Chapter Text
One month has passed since Mt. Abraham High School started and Billy was finally getting comfortable in classes. Maths was fine, he just thought it was embarrassing that he got put into an extra help class, same with his english class. He was in his final class for language and history credits. He did sports so he never worried about P.E. credits. However, there was one class Billy hated more than most. Science.
Billy was never good at science. He struggles to pay attention to lectures, can't follow directions, and labs always end in a mess. Science is just so boring and it was Billy's first class at 8:00 am. That's just a recipe for disaster waiting to be followed.
The Chemistry teacher, Mr.Denton, had explained in the beginning of the year that 40% of their grade would rely on labs and that they would get semester-long partners by the end of September, which is now. Of course Billy wasn't listening to him when stating that so when he walked into class one random day and saw all the desks set into pairs of two, he was very confused.
“What’s up with the desk Mr. Denton?“ Billy ran his hand through his short brown hair with a dumb look on his face while the rest of the class started to fill in.
“Hitchcock, If you’d pay attention every now and then you’d know why.” A sigh escaped from Mr. Dentons mouth as he rubbed his temples, clearly annoyed at Billy's ignorance. Mr. Denton tries to be easy with Billy but sometimes, most of the time, he just wishes he didn’t have to teach his ignorant ass. “The desks are in twos because I’d prefer to have everyone sit with their semester lab partners.”
“Oh… who’s my partner?” A sheepish grin tugged and flickered on Billy's lips. Billy was a fairly awkward fellow when he talked with people one on one but was loud and energetic with bigger groups. He just hoped he'd be paired with someone he has a good connection with. Alex or George wouldn't be too bad, but ,if they got to pick their partners, they'd pick each other. Billy thought to himself as he skimmed the room for a potential colleague. Man I guess anyone would be okay, except Carter. I swear that man hates my guts for no reason.
“The groups were random.” Denton pats Billy's back and starts heading to his desk. “Just keep standing there. I’ll read out the groups after the bell rings.” And just as Mr. Denton requested, Billy stood still, by himself. For the next few minutes, Billy twiddled his hands and kicked the table behind him.
As the bell rings, Mr. Denton heads to the front of the classroom, messes with his seating chart, definitely for dramatic effect, and clears his throat before speaking. "Good morning class! Hopefully you remember at the beginning of the year how I told everyone that you'd be split into groups of two?” He throws a quick glare to Billy, “Well today's the day you get your partner for the rest of the semester!” In an instant, the room explodes into chatter. “Quiet down, quite down. I’ll start reading the groups now. Once your name is called, head over to the lab. ”
“Simmons and Campbell”
“Johnson and Corman”
“Browning and Waggner”
Crap! Please God, if you’re out there, give me a good partner please! I’ll stop smoking if you do! Billy prayed hard and hard after he heard his two friends getting paired together. He just hoped he doesn't get grouped up with Carter.
“Hitchcock and Horton-” He gets cut off by a loud snort before he could finish his words.
“You’re kidding!” Carter blurted too loud. People all around laughed, why wouldn't they? The most liked guy in the room just got paired up with the loser everyone makes fun of. Billy's face reddened at Carter's jab and hurt more than he'd like to admit. He pushed an awkward smile on his face trying to hide his embarrassment. It didn't work a single bit.
Billy decided to take the lab table furthest from everyone who already picked their own, making Carter have to grumpily walk across the room as if it was the worst punishment he'd ever face. Carter shoved the chair back and threw himself in it. He didn't look at Billy, not directly. He just sat down in the chair across from Billy with a loud sigh and crossed his arms, becoming a human barricade.
“You know,” he said, voice light, “statistically, lab partners who are rude to each other in the first five minutes of working together have like a higher chance of causing minor explosions.”
Carter stared at him. Expression blank. Jaw tense. He obviously wasn’t amused.
C'mon say something, anything. Billy shifted in his seat. “That was a. . . That was a joke. Kinda. . . tough crowd” Billy grins, chuckling at his own comment
“Do you see me laughing,” Carter asked in the most monotone voice.
“N-no, bu–”
“Then stop talking.”
Billy bit the inside of his cheek. “Okay. Got it.” At least he said something.
Mr. Denton started writing instructions on the board in thick, squeaky marker strokes. Something about bonds and reaction types and yatta yatta yatta. Billy couldn’t read any of it over the sound of his own heartbeat. His mind unfocused from his “talk” with Carter
Carter was already organizing the materials in front of them, without a word, without eye contact. As if Billy wasn’t even there.
It was really starting to make Billy mad. Is this dick really going to make me just sit and watch?
“So…” Billy offered, flipping open the lab manual. “Do you want to write, or—”
“Don’t screw this up Hitchcock,” Carter cut in. Still not looking at him. “Just stay out of the way and maybe we’ll pass.”
Billy blinked. He wanted to argue. He wanted to say “I’m not an idiot” or “you’re not the only person who knows how to follow instructions”, but, not only was that just not true, he couldn't bring himself to say it.
Instead, he nodded and smiled. Small and tight.
“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Whatever you want Horton.”
“Call me that again and I’ll beat your ass.”
Billy only nodded. Why, just why, did it have to be him. Billy could feel a lump in his throat start to form. No Billy! Don’t do it. Real men don’t cry. Billy took deep breaths as quietly as possible till the lump left. You're fine Billy. Just deal with it. The words ‘Don’t screw up’ were already replaying in his head over and over.
By the end of the period, Carter had completed the entire lab sheet on his own. Billy had tried, once, to hand him a graduated cylinder, and Carter had just stared at it until Billy put it back down. Man, that dude is real intimidating. Billy thought to himself in the moment.
When the bell rang, Carter stood up so fast his stool nearly tipped over.
“You better not mess this up,” he said again. It wasn't exactly a threat but it definitely felt like one.
Then he walked out.
Billy sat at the table for a few seconds longer, listening to the buzz of the lights and the scrape of chairs being pushed back, like it might drown out the buzzing in his chest.
He didn’t have to check the syllabus to know it was a semester-long partnership.
Four months.
Four months with Carter Horton.
He stared down at the lab notebook. Carter’s handwriting was perfect—sharp, clean, efficient. Like he carved the answers into the paper with a knife. Then there was the small portion Billy wrote at the start without telling Carter, which is why he wasn't allowed to write. It was sloppy, hardly readable. Compared to Carter's writing, it looked like hieroglyphics.
Billy added a tiny doodle of a beaker with a frown face in the corner. It didn’t make him feel better.
But it helped.
A little.