Chapter Text
“Vansell!”
The moment he heard the voice calling him from somewhere in the hall, Vansell rolled off his bed, scrambling to get to his door before it was too late. He tripped on the blankets, stumbled over his feet on the rug, and threw his hand on the lock as quickly as he could. But, despite his efforts, it was too late. The moment he started to turn the lock, fingers attempted to push the door open from the other side.
“Vansell? Is that you?” He slid back, hoping Mortimus wouldn’t be able to see him as he pushed against the pulling, desperate to get the door shut. “Stop it, Vansell! Just let me in, all right? I need to speak with you!”
Though Mortimus sounded genuine in his words, Vansell did not crack and open the door until he’d given the idea another long moment of thought. He truly had no desire to speak with his friend but he did have a way to get him out of there if he didn’t leave on his own fast enough, so he supposed giving the bloke a chance couldn’t be that bad of an idea.
Reluctantly, Vansell allowed his friend to come in, and Mortimus stumbled over his own feet when the door finally gave way. He brushed himself off quickly, shoving his hair back as he pulled the door shut and leaned casually against it. Vansell was certain he looked rather suave in his own head, and certain that he looked just like an idiot in reality.
“Sorry, I think, uh— I think your door was jammed.” He said it like Vansell hadn’t obviously tried to keep him out. Ridiculous. “Anyway, I need your help. Do you happen to have a minute to speak? Or perhaps a little longer to—”
“You have one minute to explain,” said Vansell, crossing his arms and raising a brow. He had exams to study for, work to do; the idea of giving up more time for Mortimus was outlandish. “I don’t have time to be dealing with you all the time anymore, Mortimus.”
“What? As if you ever— never mind. That’s not the point. Just listen to me, all right? I need you. See, there’s this guy that I really, really like, but—”
“No. Nope. No, no, no, absolutely not. We have had this discussion before, Mortimus. I am willing to help you if you’re struggling with your homework and you want to get serious, but I will not be a part of your rubbish romantic endeavors.”
“But see, that’s exactly why I need you!” Mortimus stepped farther into the room, sitting down on Rallon’s bed as if he had no intention of leaving as quickly as he’d somewhat promised. “This guy I really like, he’s got this whole mysterious vibe to him and I think it’s something you’re far better at than I am. See, I have off-putting vibes, but those generally come off as creepy which hasn’t quite worked well in the past in terms of actually finding a partner.”
“Are you saying they have worked for you in other ways?”
“I’m not going to say they haven’t. Now, are you going to help me or not?”
Vansell hesitated as he glanced back to the piles of work still scattered around his half of the room. He truly did not like Mortimus that much, but the idea of spending another several hours studying didn’t feel great either. If nothing else, at least he could find some amusement in Mortimus’s eventual and inevitable fail.
Most afternoons in the study hall were not remarkably quiet. There were generally a million students all hustling around, getting in each other’s space and chatting when they weren’t meant to. But that afternoon was different. That day, Theta was all alone at the Deca’s shared usual table, studying with his headphones on and his hands scribbling independently. The work might have been boring but it was, admittedly, a rather relaxing time.
“Hey, Theta, check this out.” At least, until Drax walked over, swung his leg over the bench beside Theta entirely uninvited, and yanked one of his earbuds out. Theta blinked twice, more confused than alarmed or irritated. “You know how they have all those things in the papers and whatnot where you can submit things? I’ve just had the greatest idea.”
“Entertain us for an hour kind of great idea,” started Theta, raising a brow, “or entertain us for two days kind of great idea?”
“Well, depending on how it goes, I believe we could get anywhere from an hour to week of entertainment from this one. See, rather than submitting to these publications as ourselves, I suggest we submit to them as an entirely fictional person. I’ve already got some details, right? I just need some help coming up with a name and some personality shit.”
“All right. How about we call them… uh… Rekaf?”
“Rekaf? What the hell kind of a name is Rekaf?”
“It’s ‘faker’ but I spelled it backward so people won’t realize until they do and then they’ll feel exceptionally stupid.”
“Oh, I see. Salt in the wound. Genius.” Drax nodded his approval, shifting his other leg over the bench so he could show Theta his phone more easily. He typed in the name on his already started document, then handed it over for Theta to see the other details. “So, basically, I’ve got all these ideas, I just haven’t quite figured how to string them together into a cohesive person yet. Nor do I know where to start.”
“What’s your endgame?” asked Theta, scrolling through the document but not finding the information that he needed.
“Theoretically, I’d like to get Rekaf known enough that several students are texting them and all believe them to be a real person because they all known them through messages. Basically, just a whole string of mass confusion. It’s not really anything deep yet. Like I said, it’s two weeks of entertainment tops, and that’s assuming it doesn’t backfire right off the bat.”
“It can’t possibly fail that quickly. We always manage to get away with our dumbassery for at least a little while before it all blows up in our faces. And anyway, it all depends on our targets. That is what we have to be considering right now. Who do we use to start the chain? We need someone who both has connections and won’t sell us out immediately.”
Drax blinked as he took his phone back, acknowledging Theta’s nod of approval. Neither of them quite knew the answer to the question, likely because neither of them really had friends outside of the Deca. As such, they were left to choose from the few names they did know, which weren’t the best for reaching a wide audience.
“All right,” said Drax, after a long several minutes of thought, “if we’re going purely by who has the most connections, I think we’re going to have to go after Epsilon. And before you say everyone hates him, think about it. Theoretically, if his roommate—that Ummins guy—is real, then he’s very popular, right?”
“Ummins is not real.” Theta glared at him, suddenly wondering whether he was wasting his time. “Have you ever heard of an Ummins? It’s not even a name.”
“I know, I know, we’ve been over this; it sounds like someone just went ‘um’ and then added a few letters to fool us, but what if it isn’t? What if it truly is a real person that we have somehow managed to avoid meeting since our first days in the Academy? Who has countless connections? And even if not, Epsilon knows a few Scendeles and they’ll be the quickest to fall for the scheme, so. Might as well give it a go.”
The idea of trying to get “Ummins” to fall for their scheme sounded utterly idiotic to Theta, but he was more on board with Epsilon. He was a dumbass, yes, but he did have a fair share of connections with some of the lower chapters, and if they wanted to hit a high number of easy targets, that was the best choice. He nodded his approval. It was probably going to turn out horribly, but it didn’t matter. Theta was pleased to have the entertainment regardless.
Given the fact that he’d never encountered any of his friends in any of his law-specific classes before, Rallon had good reason to believe that he did not have to see any of them in the lecture he was attending that afternoon. Right up until he saw his friend’s eternally pissed-off face, he thought for sure he’d just get in, learn a few things, and get out with no problems. But no. No, because Magnus just had to be there for no obvious reason.
“You switch majors?” asked Rallon casually, sliding into the seat beside him. Because the only thing worse than sitting beside Magnus was sitting in front of or behind him where it was harder to predict his moves.
“No?” Magnus made a face, almost as if he were disgusted at the idea of sharing a major with Rallon. Or, less personally, moving into a field focusing on personal relationships and obeying the law. “One of my minors is in time and space travel and apparently you’re required to take political classes for that.”
“Well, I suppose that does make sense. If you’re going to be traveling through time and space, it’s best that you know how to—”
“Yeah, but I’m not even going to be traveling through time and space. I’m majoring in fucking construction. Building the things people travel around time and space in doesn’t mean I have any intention of doing it myself.”
“Don’t you, though?”
“Are you trying to piss me off?” The moment Magnus asked the question, however joking his tone sounded, Rallon flinched. It did not go unnoticed. “What, you hate me or something?”
“It’s not that I don’t like you,” Rallon assured him quickly, “it’s just that I’m a little cautious since you’re… hm… I think most people describe you as… well…”
“An asshole?” Magnus nodded, barely even shrugging in response. He had absolutely no regard for anyone’s opinion of him, apparently. Not that it was a big surprise. “Well, allow me to let you in on a little fact, Rallon. I’m not an asshole. I just can’t be bothered to be friendly with people I don’t like.”
“You’re never friendly with anyone.”
“Are we not being friendly right now?”
“I mean, not particularly, but I suppose you have toned down a tad from your regular… shield. Isn’t that what Mortimus calls it?”
“What he calls my personality which he dramatically reads into in a desperate attempt to justify the fact that we just don’t get along?” Sounded like a whole lot of denial to Rallon, but he said nothing as Magnus blinked and went on. He wasn’t stupid enough to get on his friend’s bad side. “Yeah, he says it’s a shield. Or a wall. Depends on the day and what mood I’m in.”
“And how much he thinks he’s cracked it.” The voice did not belong to either Rallon or Magnus, and they both whipped around suddenly. Bizarrely enough, Koschei was seated behind them, watching with wide eyes. Rallon’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out when the hell he’d come in. “Why are you glaring at me, Magnus? We all know you love him. You act like a dick but he’s like… uh… oh! He’s like that little brother that you always want to shove in a well but then someone else tries to shove him in a well and it makes you so mad that you shove them in a well instead.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. I think I accidentally took Mortimus’s illegal stimulants instead of my anti-depressants. Everything is spinning. I’m not even sure I’m in the right class.”
Rallon opened his mouth to clarify which classroom they were in but did not get a chance to even begin before Koschei raised a hand, made a face, and slid out of his chair—completely unconscious on the impeccably cleaned floor.
It would be a lie to say that Vansell was not dreading meeting up with Mortimus that evening. Though he was relieved to be away from his homework for a while, he was not at all interested in helping Mortimus with his romantic endeavors—at least, not until it got amusing, and that would probably not happen as quickly as he wanted. They had to get through the mess of planning before he could see the execution fail.
“Hey.” Vansell knocked on the door to Magnus and Mortimus’s room and frowned when it did not immediately slide open. Mortimus was usually bizarrely fast to respond, especially when he had plans with a friend. Not that the two of them made plans often. Vansell tried the door, knowing it was always unlocked, but that didn’t work either. “Mort, are you going to let me in or what?”
“No. I’ve changed my mind. We’re not doing it.” And there it was. One of Mortimus’s increasingly frequent and unpredictably bizarre mood swings. The Deca had once come together—without him—to try and pinpoint what caused them, but no one had been able to catch him in a transition point yet. Only on the extreme ends of the spectrum of happy to sad to… something no one could quite name. “Thank you for agreeing but I don’t think it’s a good idea anymore.”
For a split second, Vansell considered turning to leave, but stopped himself. He tried the locked handle once last time before leaning against the door frame and pulling out his phone, quickly sending Magnus a message subtly pleading for help. “What happened?” he asked bluntly, hoping Mortimus would just answer.
“Nothing. I just tried that critical thinking thing that Borusa is always going on about. The potential outcomes are weighed entirely toward disaster because every date I’ve ever been on is terrible. There’s no point. Go back to studying.”
MAGNUS: Angry or depressive?
“Not every date has been terrible,” argued Vansell, deciding to answer the question with the latter. “You had a boyfriend for quite a while, didn’t you? And it’s not your fault he decided to… cheat on you? Was that him?”
“Oh, god, I’ve had so many failed dates you can’t even remember who they are. Hell, I can’t remember who they are! What the fuck has my life come to?!” Mortimus scoffed and something in the room clattered. Dropped a pen on his desk, maybe? “Useless. Fucking pathetic.”
MAGNUS: Quiet or talking?
“You’re not pathetic, Mortimus.” Okay, so he was pathetic in a few ways, at least in Vansell’s opinion, but it was no time to admit it. He glanced down, hoping for another response. Apparently, Magnus was too busy with something else to respond immediately, having left him on read. “You’ve got more balls than most of us here. How many of us have you seen tell someone we like them? Even Rallon and Millennia barely managed it and they were already best friends.”
“And Jelpax. He’s been in love for like, as long as I can remember, and he’s never done anything about it. Probably won’t now. I fucked that up too.”
“What? Jelpax—? With whom?”
“If you don’t know that, I can’t help you.”
MAGNUS: Depressive + talking = internal factors
MAGNUS: Needs a hug and sugar. Don’t bother with reassurance, he won’t listen
MAGNUS: DO NOT LET HIM BINGE
“Hey.” The sigh of relief Vansell let out when Ushas walked out of her room toward him was indescribable. Neither of them were particularly great at dealing with emotions, but it was far easier with two than one. Ushas barely nodded at Vansell before knocking on the door. “Mortimus, open up. I have candy.”
“What kind?” asked Mortimus, his voice a little quieter than before. He was coming around, however slowly. “Is it like, five percent sugar, or—”
“You cannot have the sugar cubes again. But it is your favorite chocolate.” She leaned in close to Vansell, lowering her voice. “Magnus gave them to me for when Mortimus won’t let him in.”
“Doesn’t he have a key?”
“Yeah, and Mortimus has a chair.”
“That’s right, I do. I do have a chair.” Mortimus was nodding when he finally opened the door, still wearing half his uniform and blinking his bloodshot eyes repeatedly. His tone was oddly devoid of humor, better matching the tear streaks on his face than the words he spoke. “And I give a hell of a lap dance. There are at least seven people who will attest to that, even if they do all think I’m a fucking creep.”
Ushas said nothing and Vansell followed her cue. She unwrapped a candy bar, stuffed it into Mortimus’s mouth, and awkwardly pulled him into a hug. Vansell was only glad that it wasn’t him. He couldn’t remember the last one he’d hugged anyone. Ever. He wasn’t convinced it had actually happened before. He took a step back, pulling his phone from his pocket and sending one final message.
VANSELL: Out of curiosity, what would you advise for external causation?
MAGNUS: ?????? Fucking punch whoever hurt him. Dumbfuck
“What the hell is this?”
Drax flinched when Millennia slammed the paper on the desk in front of him, but it was nothing compared to Theta physically falling out of his seat. He let out a groan as he sat up, rubbing the side of his head as Drax leaned forward to see what exactly they’d done wrong. After all, it was quite a long list of things that Millennia might have been coming at them for.
“I have absolutely no idea,” said Drax, tugging at his sleeve and pulling it just over one hand. His poker face was convincing, but Millennia wasn’t stupid. She raised a brow, extending it to Theta when he climbed back into his own chair. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? And why did you put this on my desk? I don’t even know who this Rekaf bloke is.”
“And yet he just happens to misspell all the same words as Theta. You don’t find that to be the least bit odd?”
“Dammit! I knew I shouldn’t have asked a dyslexic to write it for me!”
“Hey!” Theta whacked his shoulder and Drax winced, inhaling sharply as he reached up to grab where he’d been struck. Not a sliver of remorse came from his attacker. “We wrote it collaboratively so half of those typos are probably yours. Not like you’re any better at spelling than I am. Especially when you’re staring at Jelpax instead of checking your work.”
“Staring?” Drax gaped, whipping around to look at Jelpax. Unfortunately, his friend did not give him any support, only shrugging as he shifted on his bed and flipped to the next page in his novel. “We were having a conversation. It’s rude not to make eye contact.”
“And it’s stupid to write ‘profect gourdes’ when you’re supposed to be making your fake student look like a genius!”
“Well excuse me, but our conversation was important.”
“You spent forty-five minutes debating which side of your nose you should get pierced,” said Jelpax bluntly, adjusting his glasses but keeping his gaze focused on his book. “Don’t think I even said more than three sentences. I like your hair, Mil.”
Millennia dragged a hand through her newly dark pink hair and smiled. At least someone noticed. She hadn’t even seen Rallon to show him yet. “Thanks. And if you’re going to be making up ridiculous characters to carry out your schemes for you, can you not do it through the publication that I work really hard on? And my friends? You’re going to make people question the integrity of our news.”
“Whatever.” Theta waved a hand dismissively, narrowing his eyes at the faces Jelpax and Drax were making at each other across the room. They were weirdly good at having a conversation without using a single word, their small gestures somehow saying it all. “Can you just let us know if anyone responds asking for a date with our imaginary person? We have to vet applicants for someone popular. We tried reaching out to Ummins, but he has no public contact info and Epsilon left us on read.”
“Because he doesn’t exist,” added Jelpax. He rolled his eyes when Drax held up a middle finger. “Listen, all I’m saying is that Millennia has asked you kindly not to continue this. Can’t you be nice enough to back off now?”
“We would but no one is hitting up our dating sites. Probably because we’ve only gotten in thanks to Drax’s hacking. Did you know that every single social media website aside from the Academy’s is actually banned?”
“I believe that was covered in orientation, yes.”
“You attended orientation?” asked Drax, his words accented by an amused chuckle.
“Yes?” Jelpax made a face, resting his book on his knee and leaning back against the pillows. Drax slid his chair back a little, moving away from Jelpax’s desk and toward an angry Millennia. “You were there too.”
“No, I wasn’t. I think I would remember if I attended orientation.”
“Well, that’s because you spent the entire time sleeping on my shoulder, darling, but they wrote your name down and enrolled you so legally, it counted.”
“But—”
“Wait, wait, wait, shut up!” Theta reached back to get Drax’s attention, but rather than poking his shoulder, ended up just awkwardly slapping his chest thanks to the fact that his gaze was still pointed the opposite way. He stared at his phone, then grabbed the newspaper off the table and chucked it over his head. “We got a taker. Someone else must have illegally downloaded this app because they want a date with Rekaf. They have a date!”
The looks on Millennia and Jelpax’s faces were notably less excited than those that Theta and Drax wore as they bumped fists excitedly; leaning together to read whatever message that unwitting fool had left for them.
“My head is killing me.” To demonstrate his point, Koschei rubbed the side of it, wincing as the pain increased. He’d thought it was all internal, but it seemed he might have hit his head after all. “What the hell happened?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” It made sense that Magnus was there, given that the two of them were decently close, but he made a face upon noticing Rallon. Especially since they were the only two there and Rallon had never seemed interested in spending time with Magnus. Or Koschei, for that matter. “We were going to take you to the infirmary but we realized that if you did take something of Mortimus’s, it’s probably illegal, and we’d probably get in trouble.”
“Wait, so you care more about you idiots not getting in trouble than making sure I’m not fucking dead?”
“I mean, you were still breathing. And you’re here now, aren’t you?” The lack of concern in Magnus’s tone was striking. “And since you’re not dead, there wasn’t really anything to be concerned about in the first place. I mean, honestly, I suggested we bring you here instead of sticking you in with Mortimus’s shit, but even moving you seemed a little unnecessary.”
“So, you were just going to leave me on the floor in the middle of the classroom?!”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Koschei sighed and flopped back on the pillows, groaning as even the soft impact was a little too much. “I really need to get new friends,” he mumbled.
“Good luck.” Rallon made a face when Magnus spoke, his tone unbothered and devoid of humor. “At this point, I’d bet the Deca has been blacklisted by basically the entirety of the planet. Possibly the galaxy. You’d have to go to another universe to find someone willing to be friends.”
“Yeah? I’ll take that bet. Oh, and before I forget, did anyone grab the homework from economics? That’s where I passed out, isn’t it? I really can’t afford to have my grades slip any further. Not unless I want to turn into Theta or Drax. I fight with my professors enough, I shouldn’t have to worry about them hating me for not turning work in either.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about this one,” said Rallon. He furrowed his brow suddenly, awkwardly shaking his head. “Actually, maybe you do. Because we weren’t even in economics. We were in legal communications. Don’t you remember saying you thought you might have been in the wrong classroom?”
“No, but that does make sense.” Koschei let out a breath, his brow furrowed oddly. He narrowed his eyes as he considered the situation, hesitating before decided to share his thoughts. “So, if I’m understanding this correctly, you left class early to take me here, correct? Which means you didn’t get the homework from that class, and I didn’t get the homework from economics. Basically, none of us have the homework that’s due, nor know the day that it is due on. Lovely. Anyone care for a cuppa?”
Apparently, Koschei was the only one who found the situation to be at all humorous. Magnus did nothing but narrow his eyes and turn for the door, while Rallon’s jaw dropped—as if missing one measly assignment was truly the end of the world.
“You give the worst lessons ever.”
Vansell groaned and rubbed his temples, sliding his hands over his eyes and glaring at Mortimus through his fingers. When he agreed to help his friend, he had not thought through what it would actually entail. He hadn’t even considered all the factors, including the most important, which was the fact that he had absolutely no idea how he came across as “mysterious”, the way Mortimus claimed.
“Well, I’m not the one who suggested this,” said Vansell bitterly, dropping his hands into his lap and challenging the annoyed stare Mortimus threw him. “You are the one who came into my room begging for my help learning how to be ‘mysterious’. Now, I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I know I promised you no expertise.”
“If you had no expertise, why the hell would you agree?!” Mortimus shouted. He’d calmed down from whatever happened before, but only long enough for irritation and rage to take over from the hurt. Vansell blamed it on too much time in close proximity to Magnus. “If you came up to me and asked me to teach you something I knew nothing about, I certainly wouldn’t say yes.”
“You say yes to everything. That’s literally why people don’t like you.”
“Actually, it’s the opposite.” Shockingly, it was not Mortimus who tried to defend himself, but Ushas jumping in from across the room. The reason she hadn’t left after giving Mortimus his chocolate was unclear, but Vansell wouldn’t complain. “You see, the reason most people get with Mortimus is, I believe, because he will say no to literally nothing. So, he’s easy to use. And, unfortunately, most people who date him don’t do it because they’re actually interested.”
“Are you saying I’m a tool?”
“I’m not saying you’re not.”
“Okay, all right, can we get back to the point here?” If he was going to be stuck there helping Mortimus, he was at least going to try. Even if Mortimus was one of the worst students ever—second only to another of their friends. “Mortimus, can you tell me what exactly it is about my ‘mysteriousness’ that you are looking to mimic?”
“Uh… the part that makes you really cool and edgy without coming off like a creep the way I do,” said Mortimus, as if that were somehow a helpful and specific answer. “Although now that I think about it, it never has done much to attract people to you. But this is one person in particular that I’m interested in, so it’ll probably be okay, right? He’ll like it.”
“I still don’t know who this person is, so I’m not going to try to agree. Or deny it. You know, I’m actually having a really hard time believing that this is serious because you are so disorganized with what you want out of these lessons that I don’t even—”
“Are you blaming me for the fact that your lessons are disorganized? I don’t walk into mathematics and expect to lay out a lesson plan for my professor!”
“Okay, but I don’t agree to teach a class without any concept of what it is.” Mortimus opened his mouth, clearly to declare that it was exactly what he’d done, but Vansell glared at him and went on before he got the chance to emerge victorious. “The point is, well, if you don’t know what the point is, I cannot be bothered to stay here and help you. It’s just not worth it.”
“No, no, no, Vansell, wait!” The second Vansell rose to his feet, Mortimus dove off his own bed and latched on to his ankle, stopping him from running. Vansell continued to try and shuffle across the ground even with the weight holding him back. Mortimus wasn’t that heavy. “Come on, mate. We can talk about this! I’ll think of something, all right? I can be more specific. You just have to give me a minute to figure it all out. I know I’ll think of something, just— are you filming us?”
“Seemed like good entertainment for this week’s meeting,” said Ushas dryly, not moving her camera even an inch. “Go on, then. Keep begging. The more dramatic, the better.”
Shockingly, that turned out to be the one way to make Mortimus do the opposite.
“We really didn’t think this through, did we?”
Jelpax and Millennia laughing in the background did nothing to ease Drax’s frustration and anxiety. Him and Theta really hadn’t considered what to do once they actually secured a date, and suddenly, they found themselves in a limited time frame to figure it out—thanks to Theta setting a time for Rekaf to meet their new girlfriend without discussion. Both Theta and Drax were reasonably panicking, but Jelpax and Millennia had done nothing but giggle and whisper to each other for the last half hour.
“No, we didn’t,” answered Theta, pushing his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time. There were no brown strands left that weren’t tangled or twisted into a knot. “We were so busy thinking about how funny it would be to send someone on a date with a fake person that we didn’t stop to consider that it might not be possible. Unless we send a mannequin in there? That would be—”
“How the hell do you intend to make a mannequin talk, Theta?” asked Drax, reaching out to flick him in the forehead. Theta winced, awkwardly brushing the back of his hand against the impact point. “Hell, even if you got a ventriloquist, you wouldn’t be able to make it walk. It’s just not convincing. At all. If you’re going to try and think up plans, at least try and think up plans that might actually be useful.”
“Said the guy who has done nothing but berate me for my ‘terrible’ ideas for the last hour instead of trying to help. Before shitting on my ideas, maybe you should at least try to think up some of your own.”
“Just because I’m not sharing them aloud doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of them.”
“And yet if you’re not willing to share them, they can’t possibly be that good, can they?!”
Jelpax snorted as Millennia giggled quietly beside him. Perhaps if the situation was more serious, seeing their friends shouting at each other wouldn’t be so entertaining. But as it was, there was absolutely nothing at risk. If Drax and Theta didn’t think up something to do to whoever they’d tricked, they’d just call the date off or let the girl get stood up. Either way, it wouldn’t have long lasting impacts for anyone given that the girl and “Rekaf” had barely even engaged in a single conversation.
Still, they did seem really passionate about what they were doing regardless of how ridiculous it all was, and Jelpax didn’t mind that. He liked seeing Drax get excited about something, even when it devolved into a shouting match with his friend because neither of them could think of a way to end their little game. Or perhaps, move to the next stage of it? Drax had mentioned something about Rekaf sticking around for a week or two but given how terrible the whole thing was already going, Jelpax really didn’t see that happening.
“Do you think they’re going to come up with anything in time?” asked Millennia, her voice barely above a whisper. At that point, Jelpax was pretty sure they could have yelled and the two fools across the room wouldn’t bat an eye. “They’ve been going back and forth at each other for… what? An hour now?”
“I don’t even know. I stopped paying attention after Theta suggested sending in a cat to play Rekaf.” Jelpax sighed and leaned back on his pillows, his gaze drifting away from Millennia and back over to Drax and Theta. His eyes held a look of longing, but not for want of an invitation. “You know, you really don’t have to stay in here. Now that they’ve got the Internet on their side, I highly doubt they’ll even remember their newspaper submission. You can just pull it and pretend this never happened.”
“Nah. I think it’s more fun to listen to their plans and maybe intercept a bit. Not that I’m saying I would do that, of course! But… they kind of deserve it, don’t they?”
Jelpax smirked. “What did you have in mind?”
Although Millennia’s plans were solid and spoken only a few feet away, Drax and Theta were none the wiser to it. They might have heard if only they stopped screaming for a moment or two, but they wouldn’t. Instead, they kept going back and forth about the fact that neither of them had any ideas as to what they should do. They largely insulted each other instead of making even the smallest progress.
As opposed to Jelpax and Millennia, who had already devised an entire plan by the time Drax and Theta found step one of their own.
Magnus didn’t mind it when Koschei tried the door the first time. He didn’t mind it when Rallon tried the door a second time, claiming that Koschei had been pulling it the wrong way. But when they started bickering and yanking at the handle back and forth for what must have been several minutes, Magnus reached a point where it seemed like punching one or both of them might have been the best idea.
“All right, all right, it’s locked. We get it.” Magnus rubbed his temples, trying not to let his irritation get the better of him. They needed to get the assigned homework but if their professor wasn’t there, clearly, the only option was to change course. “Since the classroom is closed, why don’t we go take a peek in her office and see if she’s there? And Koschei, you need completely different homework. What are you even doing here with us?”
“Well, I figured we could just grab both together,” said Koschei, despite knowing full well that neither Rallon nor Magnus was in his economics class. “I don’t personally have anything better to do tonight anyhow, so we might as well just keep hanging out, yeah? We are friends, after all.”
Acknowledging the look on Magnus’s face, Rallon decided to cut in before their bickering took over the situation. “Okay, let’s all just take a deep breath, yeah? Magnus is right. We should just head over and see if our professors are still in their offices. It’s not that late. There is a chance they’ll still be around grading or something.”
“Right, so we’ll just wander in and demand the homework we didn’t collect because we were too busy dealing with the fact that I was in the wrong classroom and probably high on some illegal edibles? Okay.”
Koschei shrugged and immediately turned to start walking toward the corridor where the professors’ offices were. Some students had trouble finding their way over there, but not Koschei. Not after countless visits to see various teachers due to failing grades, smartass comments, or “ridiculous antics” as many called his various stunts. A normal student might have considered doubling down and correcting their behavior, but Koschei was far from average.
Regardless of their quickened pace, the offices were on the opposite side of the building from the classroom they’d been at, and it took quite a few minutes to make it to their destination. Once they did, Koschei reached a hand up to knock on the door to his professor’s office, only to stop suddenly when he peeked through the window inside. He’d thought he was being selfish, but both professors they were after were in there, along with none other than Borusa himself.
And not one of them looked happy.
“Fine. If you’re not going to help me, then I will just have to do it myself.”
Mortimus clambered over the piles of what could only be described as garbage surrounding his bed, tripping, and narrowly avoiding slamming into his closet door. He straightened his back quickly, brushing himself off as if he still—or ever—had some semblance of dignity, then ripped the doors open and peeked inside. It was no less messy than the rest of his half of the room, but he didn’t seem to notice nor care about that.
The moment he stripped his shirt off and started trying new ones, Vansell regretted ever agreeing to help him in the first place. He only wanted to get away from his homework for a bit, not see some ridiculous fashion show or whatever shit storm Mortimus managed to get himself wrapped up in next. The only redeeming factor was that there was still a possibility the guy Mortimus was interested in might be nice. Maybe. Mortimus seemed to have a habit of picking the worst partners, despite his incredible aptitude for psychology.
“I tried to help you,” grumbled Vansell, and it was technically true. He wasn’t very good at helping, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try. He answered the questions Mortimus asked to the best of his ability, even though his ability was pretty much shit. “It’s not my fault that you’re asking questions that have no realistic answers. Do you think I can just snap my fingers and suddenly you’ll be able to have the exact vibes that you’re envisioning?”
“No, but I thought you might be able to give me a pop quiz or something.” Mortimus turned around just in time to see the look of utter disbelief make its home on Vansell’s face. He only rolled his eyes in response. “What? You give me a quick crash course, I learn the ropes, and then we do a little pop quiz so I can prove my incredible skills and we both go on our way; you with your homework, and me with my new boyfriend.”
“Are you comparing your crush to my textbook?”
“You’re right, that sounds pretty bad depending on which way you spin it. He’s most certainly not dull, if that’s what you’re concerned about. And if it’s the other way around, then I sincerely hope you do not intend to fuck your maths te—”
“Stop it. Stop. Don’t even— just stop.” Vansell rubbed his temples, trying to rid himself of the images popping into his head. He didn’t know how that would work logistically, and there was no part of him that had an interest in finding out. “Let’s just take a step back, all right? Back to what we were supposed to be doing. You want to be mysterious, yeah? So, you’re going to need to wear a mysterious outfit. Ushas?”
Ushas, who was still lounging on Magnus’s bed across the room, glanced up from her phone. She raised a brow, tugging a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Are you implying that I have a sense of fashion? No, strike that, give a damn about fashion? Particularly other people’s?”
“Well, clearly you give a damn about Mortimus or you would’ve walked out of here ages ago, right?”
“Or I just find it amusing to watch you two idiots go back and forth trying to figure out how to impress someone I don’t believe either of you have ever even spoken to.”
“Hey, I spoke to him once!” snapped Mortimus, whipping around suddenly. He was holding a jacket in one hand, and a full mask in the other. It looked to be something from a costume, perhaps for one of Koschei’s failed end of semester parties. “Anyway, that’s all irrelevant. To get mysterious vibes, should I wear the spooky black jacket or the mask?”
“Both of those are pushing it way too far,” Ushas told him, despite her previously declared indifference. She rose from her seat suddenly, wandering over to push through the few articles of clothing that were actually hanging in the closet and not discarded on the floor. “What you’re looking for is something more like… this.”
As soon as Vansell saw what Ushas was holding, he found himself torn between running straight out of the room and trying to fight whatever scheme she was hatching.
“Why the hell did we even bother to show up?”
Drax’s jaw dropped as he turned to look at his friend, his eyes narrowed and his brow knit in irritation more than anything else. “You’re the one who insisted we did.”
Though he was more than willing to go along with almost anything his friends asked of him, Drax drew the line at being accused of things that he had no part in. Especially when said thing happened to be begging his friend to go through with half of a fucking plot like they could just make up some genius plan as they went along. Shockingly, that was not what happened. Rather than coming out with some incredible one liner or gotcha, Drax and Theta were huddled around a corner, staring at the girl that “Rekaf” had stood up.
“Excuse me?” It wasn’t the least bit annoying that Theta was immediately denying his involvement in the situation. Okay, so it was infuriating, but Drax didn’t have to openly admit to that. Theta crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes bitterly. “Whatever happened to get us here, you can’t blame it all on me. You’re the one who got us into this whole thing in the first place!”
“I am not!” Drax opened his mouth to continue his protests, but stopped suddenly, shaking his head. “Or was I? I can’t remember which one of us started it. God, it feels like six months ago that we began this whole adventure!”
“Try six hours,” mumbled Millennia, rolling her eyes as she turned to look at Jelpax. They were hiding around yet another corner, waiting for their own plan to fall into place. “I intercepted the advertisement they were intending to publish very soon after they submitted.”
“Well, I don’t believe anyone has ever celebrated these two based on their intelligence,” Jelpax mumbled, leaning back against the wall. He didn’t like making slights toward Drax, especially in a less joking manner, but his discomfort made the sentiment no less true. “Are you sure that this is going to work?”
“Only if I know them as well as I think. And with you speaking for Drax… Theta’s really the only potential wild card.”
“I don’t know Drax that well.”
“You literally finish his thoughts.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!” The low protest did not come from Jelpax, but rather the subject of he and Millennia’s conversation. Drax glared at Theta, clenching his fingers into tight fists. “Just because I picked the profile picture doesn’t mean that I’m more responsible for this. That’s just ridiculous. And we practically picked it together!”
“Oh, did we now?” Theta was having none of it. He took a step forward, getting right up in Drax’s face like they were having a fight over something completely legitimate. “There’s no way that one of us got big gay heart eyes over one of the pictures and decided we had to use it!”
“For the last time, I am not gay!”
“And yet you continue to behave exactly the opposite! It’s called self-love and acceptance, Drax! Why don’t you give it a try?!”
“Why don’t you?!”
As their voices steadily grew louder and their movements more aggressive, Millennia started to wonder if it was worth coming up with a plan at all. There was no way that Rekaf’s “date” couldn’t hear them, and it was only a matter of time until one of them said something that completely gave them away. Millennia nudged Jelpax, tugging him away from their little corner. They were not going to be dragged into whatever mess Drax and Theta found themselves in.
Thankfully, Jelpax seemed to have the same idea about the situation and quickly followed her completely out of sight. Drax and Theta continued to shout, attracting the attention of more than just the person “Rekaf” was meant to see. Yet, somehow, they were so busy fighting that they didn’t seem to realize that they had an entire audience watching their increasingly petty argument. Jelpax had to resist stepping in to point out how stupid the whole thing was when Theta made a dig at Drax’s fingernail polish.
“…and none of that matters,” Theta went on, “because it was you who decided to do this! It was you who thought pretending to be Rekaf was a good idea!”
“You’re pretending to be Rekaf?!”
The moment she heard the voice, Millennia whipped her head around the corner to see the confrontation go down. It was worth every bit of wasted time that day to see the looks on Drax and Theta’s faces when the girl stepped in front of them, her eyes narrowed bitterly. She was on the smaller side, but her expression alone could destroy them. It did destroy them. Millennia turned to Jelpax, smirking as she held her hand out for a quiet high-five.
“Uh, well, you see, the thing is…” Drax was waving his hands around in that same way he always did when he got anxious or uncomfortable, and again, Jelpax resisted the urge to intervene. He dug his grave and he had to lie in it. “Well… uh… Theta, run!”
Though the words were shouted in a moment of panic, Theta did not hesitate for a second before turning and hauling ass down the hall. Drax followed him quickly, ignoring the small crowd of students who had apparently arrived out of nowhere. They stopped running for the briefest second to glare at Millennia and Jelpax as they passed by, receiving only satisfied grins and a small wave from Millennia in response.
It was true that Drax couldn’t remember which one of them had come up with the catfishing idea, but it was also true that he couldn’t believe either of them were ever stupid enough to go along with it.
“Okay, which one of you is responsible for this?”
Immediately after Koschei asked the question, Rallon held his hands up in defense and Magnus turned to glare at him. If any one of them was guilty of doing something to piss off Borusa, obviously it would be him. Rallon rarely got himself into anything at all and Magnus clearly would have known if he stepped out of line. Not that he ever really did it without good reason.
“Maybe it has nothing to do with us,” whispered Rallon hopefully. Koschei was still sitting with his ear to the office door trying to listen in, while Rallon and Magnus were on either side of him, sitting on the floor. They couldn’t risk being spotted through the window. “Maybe they’re just having some kind of normal professor dispute and we happened to get in the middle of it.”
“But what if they’re not?” Koschei snapped back, his tone more fearful than irritated. As if he didn’t already get in trouble six times a week. “I can’t afford any more punishments this term. Do you have any idea how much extra credit I’ve already done? And I’m barely staying afloat! If I get in any more trouble, I’m going to have to change my major!”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to dump a minor?”
“Yeah, like I’m going to drop Gallifreyan Phenomena before I’ve found Prydie.”
“What the hell is Prydie?” asked Magnus, unable to stop himself despite knowing the answer would be completely absurd.
“Uh, it’s the monster that lives in the lake behind the Prydonian Academy?” Koschei rolled his eyes, as if the answer was obvious or something everyone learned in their electives. “There’s one for each chapter. Keep up.”
“Well, sorry if some of us are busy studying actual professions.”
“Build me a T.A.R.D.I.S. and then we’ll talk.”
“Just because it’s my major does not mean that I am going to instantly be able to just—”
“Shh!” Rallon waved a hand as he leaned close to the door beside Koschei, pressing one ear against the surface. He could barely make out the words being said inside, but it was clear that the voices were unhappy about something. Extremely, increasingly unhappy. “I don’t think they’re talking about us, I just heard Borusa say—”
“Oh, my god, they know we’re out here.” That was not even close to where Rallon was going, but he didn’t get the chance to correct that before Koschei continued his frantic rambling. “They can smell us through the door. I always knew this would happen. They have some kind of sixth sense for sniffing out Deca members just because we’ve gotten into trouble a handful of times. Two handfuls of times. We almost burned down the Academy that one time.”
“Excuse me? ‘We’?” Magnus was not gentle with his tone, his eyes narrowing as he let out a deep breath. If he got irritated, then the professors would hear them and come outside to investigate. Not that it would necessarily be the worst thing in the world, considering they’d done nothing wrong to his knowledge. “I had nothing to do with that shitfest and you know it.”
“Oh, do I? Well, clearly, I remember happening it differently because I believe it was you who masterminded the entire thing.”
“It was Ushas.”
“How dare you accuse Ushas of such recklessness!” Koschei rose to his feet suddenly, holding one hand out toward the door. His knuckles wrapped tightly, preparing to pounce despite Magnus just thinking it was a terrible idea. “You know who knows for certain, though? Borusa. He’ll know which one of us was responsible for that bullshit. And rather than getting into a whole fight about it, why don’t we just settle it now, eh?”
“Koschei, no!”
Both Rallon and Magnus rose to their feet, trying to stop Koschei from pounding his fist against the door, but it was too late. He started knocking furiously and within seconds, they were face-to-face with none other than Professor Borusa—the expression on his face nothing less than furious.
Magnus was not in the mood to discuss anything with anyone by the time he finally made it out of Borusa’s office that evening. Though they were up to absolutely nothing nefarious, the professor insisted on questioning them just given their suspicious behavior outside the door, and it was an utter waste of time. Even if he did come out of it with the homework he needed… unlike someone in their trio.
Hoping that it was late enough for him to avoid discussion, Magnus slid into his room and closed the door quietly. The lights were out. There was no sound coming from anywhere inside, likely meaning he was safe from having to explain his own actions or discuss Mortimus’s. He wasn’t sure which would be a worse topic, and he never would have anticipated the one that came entirely out of left field.
“Do you think there are cameras hidden in here?” Confused, Magnus switched the lights on, stopping dead in his tracks when he spotted Mortimus sitting on his headboard—directly in front of the very open window. His hair was a mess, his person wearing an odd, ill-fitting green suit. “Not that I think there are. That would be ridiculous. But Vansell said something a bit strange earlier and it really got me thinking—”
“What the hell are you doing up there?”
The way Mortimus turned around was more jarring than the fact that he had one leg dangling entirely over the ledge. He moved quickly, aggressively, and Magnus almost flinched before composing himself. Clearly, Mortimus was not expecting to get such a response, as his dark eyes went wide for a moment before narrowing in a way that Magnus couldn’t exactly place, his fingers gripping around the wood beneath him.
“I was just thinking,” said Mortimus plainly, placing emphasis on the last word. He dragged a hand through his hair, his gaze beginning to drift around the room rather than landing in one place. “I had a date and Ushas wanted me to show exactly who I really am rather than putting on this whole mysterious mask I had in mind and… I’m not sure I like him.”
“Who?” Magnus asked, furrowing his brow. “Your date?”
“No. Mortimus.”
That was an answer that Magnus would never have seen coming. Regardless of his true feelings, Mortimus had always been the kind of guy to talk himself up like he was the greatest person to ever exist. Admitting he felt the opposite wasn’t just unexpected, it was unheard of. But at the same time, it was a confession that something in Magnus’s gut said was long overdue. He hesitated before walking over to Mortimus’s bed and taking a seat at the end of it, shifting stray clothing off the dark red blankets.
“Did someone do something to you?” There was a strong part of Magnus that wanted Mortimus to say ‘yes’, because that was a problem he could fix. That was a problem he could deal with by finding the perpetrator and destroying them. But Mortimus shook his head. “Then what? What is this about?”
“You know how you have that little voice in the back of your head?” Mortimus waved a hand around his ear, his gaze staring straight ahead and never so much as considering turning to his roommate. “That feeling that’s always there but you don’t really pay attention to it? Not until it nags and it nags and suddenly, it’s so strong you can’t think about anything else and you aren’t even really sure why?”
For him, it was anger. “No.”
“It used to be stupidity for me. Every so often, all the shit I’ve done crept up until I couldn’t stop replaying all of it and beating myself up over my actions. Now it’s… it’s something else. I don’t know what, exactly. Sometimes I find myself in a situation where other people don’t seem to want me around and I realize that I don’t really want me around either. Is that resentment? Can you be resentful of yourself?”
“I guess.” Having a definitive answer was not as high on the to-do list as getting Mortimus’s leg back inside the building and, preferably, closing the window altogether. “It’s past curfew, Mort. You should go to sleep. You’ve got that psych test in the morning, right?”
“Could do it with my eyes closed. Not even looking at you and I can tell you’re uncomfortable because you were raised not to express emotion and you don’t know how to respond to my ramblings. You want to help, though. That’s nice.” The look on Mortimus’s face wavered just a little, his gaze dropping from the sky to his feet. “I think I might be the first person to say that about you. But you’re probably the only person who takes me seriously too, so.”
The worst part was that Mortimus was absolutely right, just like he always was. Magnus wanted to help but he had no idea what to say because he was brought up in a house that did not understand the word empathy. And when he went to the Academy and discovered a class called “Emotional Detachment”, it seemed even more pointless to learn. He hesitated before reaching a hand out toward Mortimus, gently wrapping his fingers around his friend’s forearm.
“I’m not going to lie and say I can help you if you come in,” said Magnus, wetting his lips awkwardly, “but it would probably be a hell of a lot easier if my hearts weren’t pounding because I’m worried your stupid ass is going to fall out that window.”
Mortimus snorted, the smallest smile curling his lips. “Fine, I’ll come down. But you have to promise not to be mean to me tonight, all right? I’m not in the mood for it.”
“When am I ever mean to you?”
“When aren’t you mean to me?” Mortimus gave in easily when Magnus tugged him down, then watched silently as he reached forward to shut and lock the window. He closed the curtains in front of it too. Just for good measure. “Rhetorical question. I know that your attitude is just a cover up for the already established fact that you have no idea how to express empathy and the fact that you care and worry about me a lot more than you want me or anyone else to think.”
“That’s not true,” Magnus replied, his words acting as a reflex rather than fact. But he still hadn’t stood up from Mortimus’s bed. He sat back down the moment he closed the window, not yet prepared to walk away. “If anything, you’re just my fucking annoying little brother.”
“But most people still love that brother, right?”
Magnus didn’t hate that he had no good comeback that time.
“Why do we even still do these?”
It was Drax who asked the question, an annoyed, bitter tone on his tongue, but he was not the only person in the room thinking it. After so many years and so many shenanigans, it was honestly a wonder that the Deca still found anything to discuss at the end of each week. Or rather, it was impressive that they continued to create more topics rather than realizing that maybe, just maybe, they should learn to follow the rules.
“Because Ushas has shit to blackmail all of us with and she’s not afraid to use it,” mumbled Koschei, leaning his head against his propped-up arm. His hand squished the side of his face, exaggerating the bags beneath his eyes. “She’s used it on me before. Multiple times. And considering it always gets worse, I’m not sure I want to know what her ultimate revenge is.”
“You do not,” Ushas told him, her tone more diplomatic than anything else. She smiled eerily as she crossed her arms, leaning back against Borusa’s desk. “If you think that I’ve embarrassed you before, just wait until I jeopardize your entire future at the Academy.”
Koschei opened his mouth like he was about to say something but narrowed his eyes and shook his head instead. Clearly, he realized that getting into an argument over the blackmail would only make it more likely she’d release it. Given that thread of conversation was finally falling silent, Ushas decided to move on to more pressing matters: what exactly everyone else was up to when she was unable to reach them for an entire day earlier in the week.
“So,” she started, ignoring the fact that everyone still looked as if they would rather be absolutely anywhere else, “what have you all been up to? I can’t imagine every single one of you has run out of things to share, right? Or at least, gave up on interacting with your supposed best friends.”
“Not all of you are my best friends,” Theta interjected, his gaze immediately shifting toward Vansell, who rolled his eyes in response. Their rivalry was news to no one and frankly, was beginning to get on Ushas’s nerves. “In fact, I quite despise some of you. One of you. Two of you. Nosebung, obviously, and Drax, fuck you for the other day.”
Drax raised a middle finger, not bothering to lift his gaze. “Love you too, Thete.”
“You’re just upset because your scheme turned you into the subjects of a witch hunt,” said Millennia, leaning back in her seat. Ushas’s brow went up immediately, but she didn’t get the clear explanation she was hoping for. “They tried pulling a scheme. Jel and I were having none of it.”
“Yeah and fuck you both for that.”
“I apologized like four times,” said Jelpax, causing Millennia to narrow her eyes. What the hell did he have to apologize for? They weren’t the ones in the wrong. The only reason he’d have to apologize was to completely and immediately clear the air with Drax which didn’t seem necessary. “You don’t have to keep being a little bitch about it.”
“Shut up,” said Drax playfully, reaching forward to wrap his arms around Jelpax, but not moving his feet from the top of his chair. The amount of flexibility he held was astounding, even with a little help from his long legs. “I’ll keep my feet in your face as long as I want to.”
“When don’t you have something in my face? Honestly, darling, I’m not upset about it but you’re always hanging off me somehow.”
“And yet you never kick me off.”
Smirking, Drax pulled back a little and pressed a fast, goofy kiss to the top of Jelpax’s head before sliding back into his own seat. While Jelpax froze, Mortimus’s face twisted oddly in a way that Ushas found she couldn’t quite decipher. There was something going on that she didn’t know about, but she lacked enough information to trick them into explaining it for her. If it was even information that they all shared, which wasn’t always the case.
“Moving on,” she started, not wanting the meeting to get too off course or out of her control. Ushas clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention, putting on a big, fake smile once everyone was looking her direction—reluctantly or not. “Since no one is keen to talk today and I don’t want our friendships to drift apart from lack of effort, let’s just go around the room and share something about our week, yeah?”
“Is this friendship or orientation?” asked Magnus, his tone dry and his expression unwavering. Mortimus snorted as he glanced over at his roommate, his shaking hands messing with the ends of his just too long hair.
“Assuming you all do as I say, there will not need to be an orientation because you we won’t forget each other from spending too much time apart.”
“Because I’ll have the luxury of forgetting all of you after walking away?” Koschei shook his head, attempting to lean back in his uncomfortably solid seat. He winced as his back scraped the wood in a mildly painful way. “I didn’t even have the luxury of being in the right class to know that I was on a while goose chase for homework I probably wasn’t even going to do.”
Rallon turned his head, glaring at Theta. “You didn’t have to go and tell everyone about that. I thought we’d agreed we were going to keep the whole thing quiet?”
“In my defense, I hadn’t even considered dragging your half into it until you snapped back at me just then.”
The amount of passive-aggressiveness that flickered over both their eyes was almost intolerable. Neither glared but both smiled, especially Koschei, who seemed a little too pleased that Rallon had somewhat sold himself out. Ushas almost asked them to expand on whatever they were referring to, but ultimately decided that the shebang did not sound like anything she was too interested in.
“Speaking of homework,” she started, “would anyone care to share what they’ve been working on recently? I’m considering taking up more electives next semester and if anyone has recommendations, I would be more than happy to— what are you doing?”
It was not one person who started packing their things and wandering out of the room, but half the Deca. The other half was not slow to follow, quickly rising behind their closest friends and heading out the door. Ushas made a point of glaring at every single one of them, her arms crossed and her lips pursed, hoping that the point would get across. If it did, no one bothered to make it known to her, only walking by silently or smiling in a way that was far too condescending.
“Hey.” Except Mortimus. Because Mortimus was everywhere and somehow, she couldn’t get rid of him. She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, hoping the look on her face said she was not at all interested in conversation. He did not walk away. “Sorry about that. I know these meetings mean a lot to you.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Ushas shrugged, though she was honestly saddened by the way there seemed to be a distance growing between them all. “Did you need something?”
“Just wanted to say thanks, I guess. For making me realize what a fool I was being the other day. You were right that I shouldn’t try to tone myself down. That’s what you were talking about, right? Why you made me wear that suit even though I’m the only one who likes it? I wanted to be mysterious and you wanted me to be myself.”
“I wanted you to be genuine.” Normally, she would have continued with a smartass comment, but the look on her friend’s face and the tone he spoke with changed her course. “You’re a good person, Mortimus, and an even better friend. That’s the side of you that should be going on dates. The guy who just walked up to apologize on behalf of eight other people. Not the guy who analyzes every little thing and tries to be someone he’s not.”
“Okay.” Mortimus smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a step toward the door, hesitating before he turned back to look at Ushas. “I’ll see what I can do about killing that other guy. Especially whichever part of them turns me into a tool.”
Ushas didn’t get the chance to apologize for her earlier comments nor clarify what she meant before Mortimus disappeared down the corridor, gripping the strap of his bag like it was the only thing still holding him together.