Chapter Text
George really hated this class. It had no redeeming qualities. English was a boring subject. Everyone spoke it and no one needed to know what anaphora was. Pointless. His professor was unsavory, looking girls up and down and settling his eyes where they really shouldn’t have been. There were some sly strokes of hands on his hairy arms from the freshman girls willing to do anything to get a good grade and thus more time to do drugs or lose their virginities to guys who’d forget their names not two minutes later. His classmates were bland. They didn’t raise their hands (the professor didn’t care much), they milled about directionless when given short stretching breaks. Some seemed to actually care about the course– in the beginning, at least. The stuffy room and stale air had the unsurprising effect of bringing everyone’s mood down and shoving only one thought in their mind: ugh.
Today, they were being put in groups. “Oh, joy,” he muttered under his breath. A few around him snickered, but most were just rubbing their tired eyes, checking the time on their phones. The professor projected a document on his computer. It seemed like he was trying more– he’d recently been reported for misconduct.
The groups were dubbed ‘teams’ and each team had a name and was assigned a room. He was in the ‘Dream Team’. He scoffed, quickly glancing at the other names. ‘Muffin’. ‘Craft’. ‘Trident’. And then ‘Henry’, consisting of three boys all named Henry.
“All right,” the professor clapped. “Uh, go on. Into your groups.” The poor man was sweating. If George hadn’t heard about the time he took three girls on his desk in this exact room, he might’ve felt bad. But he had heard, so he didn’t. He also heard that one of the girls had gotten pregnant, but at this point, he couldn’t care less.
The school was great– it was amazing– but they’d needed an extra class or something (George didn’t know the details), so they threw in ‘Become Lit -erate!’ and let the students deal with the consequences. You just need an easy A and one more English credit. It’ll be over before you know it. It’s only a semester. He trudged to Study Room 202C, plopped down into a chair, and made a noise of frustration.
“Why are you moaning?” His head snapped up. Staring back at him was a guy with messed hair and–
“Your bandana’s stupid.” The guy laughed, unimpressed.
“Nobody asked you.”
“Nobody asked anythin’.”
“Yeah, somebody did. I asked why you were groaning.”
“Yes. Groaning, not moaning.”
“S’basically the same thing,” a new voice piped.
“No one asked you.” George huffed. This class would be the death of him.
“Okay, well I’m Clay.” He stuck his hand out.
“I hate your sweatshirt. It hurts my eyes.” Clay chuckled. The guy in the bandana rolled his eyes and redirected his attention to George.
“Well, the glasses on your shirt are stupid.”
“Your bandana’s still stupid.”
“Fuck you.”
“Language.” Three heads turned to him. George, with his stupid clout goggles tucked in his shirt collar; the guy with the bandana, staring stupidly forward; and Clay, arms crossed over his brightly-colored hoodie-clad chest. Their stares burned into the newcomer’s eyes.
“Um, hi. I’m Darryl. And I, uh, don’t like cursing that much.” He licked his lips. His gaze flitted between them. His voice cracked as he made an attempt to speak. He tried again. “Should we get started on the assignment?” George blinked. Once. Twice. And then he made eye contact with the guy wearing a bandana. They both nodded.
George’s “no” hit the air right as Bandana’s “fuck no” did. They shared twin smirks at Darryl’s gasping.
Bandana turned to George. He kicked his foot against the ground and propelled his rolling chair forward. “I’m Nick, by the way.”
“George.” He cast Nick an appreciative glance. “I’m assuming you don’t know what the assignment is either?”
“Nope.”
“I think we’re going to get along great.”
“Me too.” A toothy grin, cheeky and wide.
They turned back to the table. More people had made their way over. Most were already attempting to catch up on sleep. Some had their heads tilted back, others simply held head in arms on desk; one had the audacity to push two chairs together to create a makeshift lounge. Darryl was unwrapping a muffin, grumbling about how he wanted to be on a different team. Something about a ‘Zak’. Only Clay was really working.
George and Nick let him be.
“So why are you taking the course anyway? It’s boring as fuck.”
“I need another English credit. Heard this was easy, but not that it’d be so boring.”
“I know right? It’s like Johnson has no will to live– until he sees Anna, of course.”
“Who and… who?”
“Johnson’s the prof? And Anna’s the, uh.” Nick cleared his throat. “She’s got the best grades in the class.”
“Ah.”
“Aside from Clay, of course.”
George hummed. “Is that why you took the class? Clay?” Nicked huffed out an easy laugh, nodding. “What is he? Your boyfriend? ” George dragged out the word, feeling like a giddy elementary schooler.
“God, what are you? In first grade?” Nick shoved his shoulder, laughing and shaking his head. He laughed a lot, which was nice. “Nah, he’s been my best friend since before my balls dropped. And I’m straight.” He paused. “You?” A sheepish grin replaced his normally confident smirk and George laughed at his expense; his cheeks still bloomed red.
“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve actually never really thought about it. Straight. I guess? I dunno.” Nick nodded.
“That’s cool, to not think too much about, like, labels and stuff. Not to pry, but just… on the topic.”
“Yeah, I was about to ask if you were hitting on me.”
“Oh, in your dreams.”
“I can’t wait until I fall asleep tonight.”
“Sorry you can only feel my love when you’re sleeping. My tender embrace.” Nick made out with the air, making disturbing noises that left George in hysterics.
“Oh shut up.” His friend cackled.
“I thought we had a thing going.”
“We did. Until you ruined it.”
The boys looked at each other then chuckled. Class had ended a few minutes prior, and Nick walked with George out the door. It was immediately apparent that Nick and Clay were friends– now confirmed friends for a long time– so George was a little shocked when Nick didn’t bother waiting for Clay. “He can’t even hear me. Loves creative writing. Just leave him be, he’ll catch up.” George’s mouth had dropped out slightly. “Don’t worry, he’ll know where to find us.” It had fallen into a small smile.
It was nice walking with Nick. He wondered about how he’d never noticed him in the class before.
“Probably because you’re always so wrapped up in being upset. You’re like, permanently scowling.”
“Well that’s ‘cause the class is awful.” Nick laughed again, loud and clear.
“Yeah, yeah… you’re right. God, I wonder why Clay loves it so much.” His expression turned softer, and his eyes shone with an almost prideful gleam. “You know, he’s actually writing a novel.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Won’t let anyone read it, ‘course that never stopped me. I liked it. Part of the reason I let him stay in class– I wanna know what happens next.” George’s chest felt light. He felt free. He was typically dead on his feet for hours after his most dreaded class, but today he felt incredible.
“That’s really cool.” And then they reached the exit doors and stepped outside. “Hey, uh, did we have homework?”
“Oh.” Nick bounced on his heels. “Yeah, probably.” And then he was turning away, yelling a loud “Bye Georgie!”
Just copy off clay it’s what I always do
1:02 am
“Nick, why were you up at one a.m.?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Why weren’t you up at one a.m.?
“Because I value my sleep.”
“Aw, little baby Georgie needs his beauty sleep. Well, good news is, I ended up completing the homework.”
A resounding smack echoed through the room. Nick only raised an eyebrow.
“I forgot to do it.” Nick only laughed. “Fuck off.” The man sat across only laughed harder, feigning wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
“Don’t worry, I got this.” He glanced up at the clock and George followed his gaze. “Clay should be here any minute now. Here, lemme uh–” He got up, switched chairs, and then drummed his fingers on his thighs.
“What– what did that do?” There was an awkward space between him and Nick now.
“You’re welcome. Hey! Clay! Over here! Sit next to my boy Georgie!” A not so subtle wink and thumbs up. A very audible groan. A confused glance and reluctant sitting.
“Hi again, Georgie.” A soft, teasing smile. “Clay, but you already knew that.”