Chapter Text
It was the little things that got under his skin. Not the big dramatic moments people liked to talk about in movies, not the explosions or screaming matches or betrayals you could point to and say, there, that’s when it all went wrong. No, Dee’s list of irritations was a hundred small, harmless-looking habits that, if you paid attention, told you everything you needed to know about a person.
One of the worst was the way some people gave themselves away in pieces. Not literally, but close enough. They gave away their time to people who didn’t deserve it, their energy to tasks no one else wanted, their possessions to anyone who asked nicely enough. They always looked so… pleasant while doing it, as if the universe had personally appointed them to make everyone else’s lives easier.
Dee hated it.
It wasn’t even because he thought generosity was bad. He just knew most people weren’t actually that nice, not deep down. No one liked being taken advantage of. It was fake to pretend otherwise. And when you pretended, you made it easier for people to keep using you. You practically sent them a written invitation: walk all over me, I won’t mind.
This kind of behavior was everywhere in school. Group projects where one kid did all the work and the others smiled and signed their name at the end. Lending out pencils you never saw again. Covering for someone who skipped a shift at their part-time job because they were hungover. Dee noticed it more than most because he paid attention. He watched people. It was easier than talking to them.
If there was a poster child for the human doormat, she would have been on it, smiling like it was an honor. She wasn’t loud or flashy, but somehow everyone knew her name. Dee suspected it was because she had personally done at least one favor for half the school. She had that polite nod, that practiced little half-smile, the kind of soft-spoken voice that made people feel comfortable asking her for things. And she never said no.
Right now, she was across the classroom in her neat cardigan and skirt, hair tied back without a strand out of place, standing by someone’s desk. Dee watched as she pulled a homework folder from her bag, hesitated for half a second, then handed it over to the two girls who had been whispering to her.
They flipped it open, started copying straight from it, not even bothering to tilt the folder away from view. Jelena stood there, smiling as if it was no trouble at all. Dee could see it though—the quick glance at the clock, the way her fingers tapped against the strap of her bag, the slight tightening of her mouth before she pulled the smile back into place. She knew she was going to be up late redoing that assignment.
And yet she didn’t say anything. She just let them take it, let them thank her in half-distracted voices, let them turn back to their conversation without another glance.
It made his teeth itch.
Dee leaned back in his seat, eyes still on her, and wondered what it was like to go through life that way. Did she ever get tired? Did she ever just… refuse? Or was this all there was to her? Endless smiling compliance, like some kind of wind-up toy programmed for helpfulness.
That was the thing. People like her made the world worse without even knowing it. They trained everyone around them to expect things for free. They kept the leeches well-fed. And they thought they were being good people for it.
He turned his gaze to the front of the room, willing the teacher to enter the room and start the lesson so he wouldn’t have to keep watching it happen. He didn’t know why it irritated him so much. Maybe because it reminded him of everything he tried not to be.
The thought sat heavy for a moment, then he shook it off. He didn’t have time to psychoanalyze himself over some girl with a cardigan and a martyr complex.
“Seats!”
At the demand, everyone was quick to their chairs not wasting anymore time as conversations hushed into rapid movements of scrambling teens pulling out books and moving chairs. Dee was sitting at his usual desk by the window not even bothering to change his action of waiting patiently with his book opened on his desk. Any question asked he could answer with precision, there was no need for him to be stressed.
“Please pass forward your homework.”
And Dee scoffed quietly as the two girls smiled while they turned in their assignments.
The classroom hummed with the quiet scratch of pens on paper and the low murmur of whispered conversations as the teacher droned on. Jelena sat near the door, her notebook open and her pen moving steadily across the page. Her notes were neat, almost painfully so – each word carefully copied, underlined, highlighted , like she was building a fortress of order around herself.
The lesson wore on, slow and methodical, until the teacher’s voice dipped into a new tone – deliberate, almost ceremonious. He slowed down, cleared his throat, and pulled a sheet of paper from the stack on his desk.
“All right, class. Project time.” His voice was met with the usual chorus of groans, which he ignored with practiced patience. “This time, you’ll be working in pairs.” He held up the paper, a rubric, and taped it beside the door with a slow, measured motion.
“You’ll have four weeks. The topic is the economic impact of renewable energy. The paper should be between five and seven pages. On your way out, look for your partner’s name on the list posted here. If you have any questions, you can come see me after class.”
Jelena blinked slowly as her eyes landed on the paper. Group project. Two names. She didn’t move immediately but read the rubric once more, committing the details to memory like she always did.
The teacher continued speaking for a few more minutes, but Jelena’s gaze drifted to her watch. The minute hand hovered at just the right spot. Quietly, without drawing attention, she began packing her things – sliding notebooks into her bag, stacking pens, folding papers.
The bell rang sharply, slicing through the murmur of the room. Jelena was one of the first to rise. She moved toward the door, eyes scanning the list pinned beside it.
Her partner’s name was already burned into her mind. She read it again once more before turning on her heel and walking away without a word.
If there was one thing Dee was thankful for, it was Lif who made life at school at least manageable. Perhaps his attempts at a different kind of relationship didn’t work, but at least he had someone to make life a little bit less dreary.
“Think we’ll be partners?” Lif was at his desk the second the bell rang, but Dee didn’t question it. She was more than ready to leave their Economics class just like most of the classes at the school.
“Probably not.” Dee replied as he carefully placed his current novel into his bag and then shouldered it with a sigh. “He’s meticulous in his choice of partners, he pays attention who speaks with who and has a history of encouraging his students to interact with others.”
“Aweeee.” Lif whined as she dramatically hunched forward and walked to the beat of a funeral drum. “I really don’t want to do this.”
Dee snorted, but chose not to reply on the fact that his friend essentially hinted at her lack of doing work when they partnered together. If it was a project that involved art or outwardly aesthetic needs, Lif was more than happy to complete that portion, something that Dee would never admit out loud he struggled with. But academics, such as a paper, Dee tended to excel in.
He didn’t mind doing all of the work when it came to Lif. But the knowledge that he’d have to shoulder some other brain dead nuisance made him want to dive feet first into a wood chipper.
There were some things in life you could fight against, but Dee knew when to fight a battle and when to wait. War wasn’t always clear cut on its spoils. So, together the duo stepped into the hallway, the noise of the crowded school washing over them. Dee’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the pairing sheet.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Kovalenko.”
Lif snickered, nudging him. “You really hate that kid, huh?”
“Yeah, well, what do you expect when you get stuck with the school’s biggest idiot?” Dee rolled his eyes, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Great. Just great .”
Lif glanced down the list and her eyes lit up. “Hey, look at that. Jelena Borisova my partner.”
Dee sneered like he’d tasted something bitter. “Aren’t we that lucky , huh? The spoiled rotten apple herself and her dumb as a rock owner.”
Lif shrugged with a grin. “I’ve heard she’s really smart! Maybe this won’t be so bad.” Then her grin turned a little sheepish. “At least… for me.”
“Yeah, sure,” Dee said dryly, “if you like being dragged through every damn group project while she hands out the answers like candy.”
“Why yes, I do enjoy that.” Lif said cheekily and Dee only scoffed.
Lif just laughed, the sound bright and unbothered. “Well, I’m optimistic.”
Dee shook his head, already plotting how to survive the next few weeks without losing his mind.
Sometimes Dee was pretty sure he was perpetually surrounded by idiots.
“ The greatest event of recent times – that ‘God is dead,’ that the belief in the Christian God has become unbelievable – is already beginning to cast its first shadows over Europe.”
Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra wasn’t exactly light reading, but the sentiment hit close to home. Except instead of God being dead, what Dee was feeling was the death of hope – hope that his partner for this project might actually be capable of understanding basic concepts.
Mark Kovalenko was exactly that kind of person. One of those people who made you want to bash your own brain in just to stop the pain. Dee could have blamed it on a few concussions, but the kid was on the golf team, not football. So how he’d managed to survive to grade eleven with his remarkably low intellect was a mystery Dee wasn’t planning to solve anytime soon
“So, do you know what, uh, economic impact is or am I just an idiot?” Mark had asked sheepishly looking at the rubric looking like he had already been defeated by the battle that was an economics essay.
You’re just an idiot and should stop while you’re ahead.
Yet Dee sat down in front of him, notebook open but already knowing this was going to be a shitshow. “ Right , so economic impact,” Dee started, tone dry and thick with reluctant patience, “is basically the effect that something - like renewable energy - has on the economy. That means jobs, costs, benefits, resources… stuff like how investing in solar panels can create industries, reduce pollution expenses, and maybe even push governments to change policies.”
Mark blinked, then nodded enthusiastically like Dee had just performed a magic trick.
Dee pinched the bridge of his nose. Yeah, nothing was getting through that thick skull.
He thought bitterly of another quote, this time from Machiavelli: “ The lion cannot protect himself from traps, and the fox cannot defend himself from wolves. One must therefore be a fox to recognize traps, and a lion to frighten wolves.”
Trying to swallow his disgust, Dee took a breath and forced a smirk.
“What if,” he said, tapping a pen on his notebook with exaggerated patience, “ I write the paper, and you buy me this book tomorrow?”
Dee scribbled the title on a scrap of paper and slid it across the desk: The Prince.
“Will it help yo- us with the project?”
“Yes,” the blonde responded drier than a desert in the summer.
Mark’s face lit up like Dee had handed him a winning lottery ticket. “Deal! And hey, you’re pretty smart yourself, you know?”
Dee rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck. “Save it, brown-noser,” he said with dead eyes, waving the compliment away like a fly buzzing around his head.
Mark grinned, completely unfazed, and Dee silently wondered if he should just give up and enjoy the ride – because this project was already shaping up to be one hell of a disaster.
Lif was having the time of her life. Or well, she was as she grinned wide and happily waved to Jelena across the courtyard. Jelena smiled back, a soft, polite wave, then glanced at her watch and slipped away in the opposite direction without hesitation.
Dee finally burst out of the school doors, his face twisted with frustration and a twitch in his eye that practically screamed I can’t deal with this. Mark followed close behind, jabbering excitedly about cars and some car show he was planning to hit that weekend.
Lif stayed back a moment, watching with amusement as Dee and Mark made their slow descent down the stairs.
“Hey!” Mark called out over his shoulder, voice bright and hopeful. “Do you wanna come to the car show this weekend with me and my bros? It’ll be fun!”
Dee’s denial was swift and brutal – a backhanded no that was practically dripping with disdain.
“ No ,” Dee said flatly, then slid in a cutting remark that sailed right over Mark’s head like a confused missile. “I would rather slit my own wrists and suffocate in the blood.”
Mark just smiled, unfazed. “Maybe next time, then.” He waved goodbye, turning sharply to head off in the opposite direction from Lif and Dee’s path.
Dee sneered in response, shaking his head. Lif giggled beside him, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“So,” Lif said, elbowing him lightly, “how’d it go?”
Dee folded his arms and smirked, voice laced with all the cynicism he could muster. “If stupidity were a sport, Mark would be a goddamn world champion. Honestly, I’m impressed he manages to tie his shoes every morning.”
As they started walking away from the school, Dee glanced over at Lif with a raised brow. “I assume yours went just as bad?”
Inside, Dee was already bracing himself. Of course it went bad. It was with the school’s ‘peeps’ - the kind of people who probably treated Lif like some annoying mosquito buzzing around their perfect little bubble. He clenched his jaw, waiting for Lif to unload the disaster.
But instead, Lif beamed like she’d just won a fucking lottery. “It was so much fun.”
Dee stumbled a step, caught off guard. “Wait, what ?”
Lif giggled, unfazed by his shock. “No, really. She’s so nice! Jelena actually explained everything really well. Answered all my questions and even listened when I started talking about the graveyard!”
Dee blinked, mouth opening but no words coming out right away.
Grinning, Lif nudged him. “See? Not every project partner is a pain in the ass.”
Dee shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it.”
They turned down the cracked sidewalk, passing the row of sagging chain-link fences. “Bet she’s just buttering you up,” Dee said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Next meeting, she’ll probably make you do all the boring crap.”
“Nope,” Lif replied cheerfully. “She already split the work evenly. Maybe even more work on her than me. Said she wanted us both to do parts we’d enjoy.”
Dee snorted. “Uh-huh. And let me guess—she said she’s really excited to work with you, too?”
“She did, actually,” Lif said, eyes lighting up. “And she meant it. You can tell when people mean it, Dee.”
They crossed the street, Lif hopping over a pothole while Dee just stepped through it, splashing his shoe. “Or maybe,” Dee grumbled, “she’s just really good at pretending.”
“Or maybe,” Lif countered, “she’s just really good at being nice .”
Dee’s jaw flexed. He was running out of cynical comebacks, and that annoyed him more than anything.
By the time they reached Dee’s front gate, Lif was still humming about how Jelena had even offered to bring snacks for their first group meeting.
“Great,” Dee muttered, unlatching the gate. “Can’t wait to hear about how perfect she is next time.”
“You will,” Lif said brightly, waving. “See you tomorrow!”
The gate clanged shut between them, and Dee stood there watching her walk away, his chest tight with something hot and sour. He didn’t even know why it pissed him off so much—but it did.