Chapter Text
“It’s fine,” said Koschei, “nobody will even notice it.”
Those were, of course, the last words spoken shortly before someone noticed it.
Lungin, thankfully, did not point it out. He simply stopped, stared at it for a moment, and walked away. Drax let out a relieved breath a moment too soon. In hindsight, he should have realized the jig was up the moment Lungin of all people noticed that the trophy was chipped. Drax inhaled slowly and did his best to look innocent.
Borusa was only halfway through the door when he furrowed his brow, his gaze landing on the trophy. He’d won it many years ago for his… well, Drax had never actually read what was written on it, even when he chipped it. That was probably a good thing, he thought. Surely the culprit would know what was written on the object of their vandalism?
“All right,” Borusa started as he closed the door behind him, “who chipped my trophy?”
Unsurprisingly, the room remained silent. Several students glanced around, searching for guilty reactions, while others looked somehow afraid despite their innocence. Drax and Koschei stared straight ahead. Any wrong movement and Borusa would know it was them.
He paced up and down the aisles, dark hands clasped behind his back. Borusa stopped to scrutinize several students, asked a handful of questions, but found no satisfactory responses or objectively reasonable suspects. He stopped two desks away from Koschei, and for a moment, Koschei thought he was a goner. Then he turned the other way.
“Lungin,” Borusa called sharply, “may I ask why you’re sinking down in your chair like that?”
“No particular reason, sir,” said Lungin. His eyes widened and he sank even lower into his seat. It didn’t make any sense why he was so uncomfortable. Did he think he broke the trophy by being the first one to notice the chip? “I haven’t touched your trophy, I swear.”
“You look awfully guilty for someone who swears.”
“I wouldn’t touch it, honest!”
Borusa’s gaze intensified as Lungin pulled at the collar of his robes, sweat beading on his forehead. It was truly impressive how he managed to look so utterly guilty despite doing absolutely nothing wrong. Koschei shot Drax a glance while Borusa wasn’t looking and Drax returned it with only a shrug.
“You’ve been struggling in this course recently, haven’t you, Lungin?” asked Borusa without regard for who heard. Drax couldn’t say he was surprised Lungin struggled with logic anyway. He rarely used it himself. “Is it possible you saw that trophy on my desk, knew that it was precious to me, and decided to take out your frustrations on it?”
“No! No, absolutely not.” Lungin shook his head frantically, his impeccable bowl cut tickling the tops of his ears. “I would never do anything to damage your property, Professor Borusa. I promise! I do sometimes struggle with this course, but I appreciate your tutoring so very much. Why would I want to do anything to harm you?”
“That’s exactly what I would like to know. Why would you want to do anything to harm me, Lungin?”
Drax almost choked on his own spit as he held back his laugh. The petrified look on Lungin’s face was nothing short of priceless. He gripped the edge of his desk, his eyes wide as his ears and cheeks flushed bright red. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out. Borusa allowed him to fluster for several seconds before he rolled his eyes and turned around.
He walked to the front of the class, his lips curled slightly upward. The room was silent as he crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk. He scanned the rows of students but landed on no one in particular before he took a slow, deep breath and addressed them as a whole.
“All right,” he started, “which one of you was willing to let Lungin take the fall for your actions? Or should I ask which two of you?”
The direction of Borusa’s gaze was unmistakable as it flickered between Drax and Koschei. They glanced at each other, neither speaking a word. There was no way that Borusa interrogated Lungin so harshly only to attack Drax and Koschei instead.
“I’m not sure why you’re looking at me, Professor,” said Drax, “but may I offer the speculation that most any of us would be willing to let Lungin take the fall for our actions? I mean, not be rude but he is… you know… Lungin.”
“I’m right here,” Lungin mumbled.
“Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you. Actually, while I have you, can I ask if you’re secretly an undercover Scendeles?”
“I’m from House Forewind.”
Drax scoffed. “Please. I don’t know who chose your cover, but you should tell them to pick a less prestigious House next time. Nobody is going to believe that.”
“That’s quite enough of that, Draxin.” Borusa’s tone was stern enough to get Drax’s attention. “It’s very, very obvious that you and Koschei are the ones responsible for the damages so why don’t you just tell me what happened?”
“Right now?” Koschei made a face and glanced around the room. Nearly every single desk had a student seated behind it. “Don’t you think it’s better that we wait until after class? We could meet you in your office?”
“Oh, no. The whole class is invested in this now and they deserve to know what happened, don’t you think?”
“No, actually, I don’t. I really don’t think.”
“We can tell that by your exam scores,” said Drax.
“Sorry, whose side are you on?”
“Mine.”
“Enough.” Borusa clapped his hands twice. “One of you needs to explain what happened right now or you’re both off to see the Headmaster. Understood?”
“We’re innocent, sir,” Koschei insisted. “I assure you, we have not and would not ever touch your trophy.”
As Koschei spoke the last word, Theta slid in the door, a bottle of glue in his hand. He held it up for Drax and Koschei to see, then stopped in his tracks when he saw Borusa at the front of the classroom.
“Professor,” he said, “you’re early.”
“You’re late,” Borusa countered. He nodded to Theta’s hand. “Care to explain the glue?”
He did not.