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The Department of Economics at the LSE was located in the northern part of the campus. It takes at least thirty minutes to get there from the nearest cafeteria for a quick bite during breaks between the classes. Not to mention some classes were held in completely different buildings, such as today.
After an endlessly boring microeconomics class, Neil barely managed to buy a sandwich from the vending machine on the first floor of the main building before almost having to run to the Department of Economic History for a single class. Fortunately, such scheduling quirks happened only once or twice a month. However, after half a year of constantly running around in the pouring rain, Neil started cursing every passerby he encountered as early as the morning.
"I wonder what would happen if I stabbed the person who put together this schedule in the eye," Neil muttered under his breath irritably as he climbed the stairs. Jumping over two steps at once, he didn't even notice the person in front of him.
"You'd get a sentence for intentional grievous bodily harm.”
Hearing a sudden heavy American accent, Neil instantly raised his head and stopped in the middle of the stairs, just a few centimeters away from someone else's chest. Recoiling in surprise, he glanced upwards, already fully aware of who the voice belonged to.
"We have left-hand traffic here," Neil rolled his eyes after a few seconds.
"Brits,” Andrew raised his eyebrow.
"Americans,” he mimicked, sticking out his tongue slightly. "Move over, I'm gonna be late for class."
However, Andrew didn't budge. He just leaned forward a little, forcing Neil to take an involuntary step back to avoid bumping heads. Fortunately, the railing saved him from falling down the stairs. Damn it...
"It's cancelled," Andrew shrugged nonchalantly.
"Last time you said that, we had a test," Neil pointed out intently. He'd fallen for it once, he wasn't going to do it again.
"You can check it yourself, British boy," Minyard grinned suggestively trying to imitate the local accent and leaned even little closer.
"Don't you dare say that again," Neil immediately retorted, scrunching up his face as if he'd just drunk a full glass of lemon juice. "You sound like a... "
Josten grimaced even more, unable to find the right words. After all, his entire family was insulted just now.
“Like what?” Andrew chuckled. He was enjoying this way too much.
"Like a broken fucking tractor on its last legs, left on the countryside to rot for eternity ," Neil spat out in one breath. He hadn’t found a better insult.
"Oh, how sweet," Andrew chuckled in amusement.
"Oh, fuck you," Neil snapped, not wanting to waste any more time. If the class hadn't been cancelled, the teacher would have surely rip his head off for being late.
"You need to come up with something new,” Andrew called after him, still laughing.
“Sure do,” Neil gritted through clenched teeth, stopping at the door to the infamous auditorium.
Andrew was right. The lecture had indeed been cancelled, but the teaching assistant was still in the room, carefully writing up names of all of the lucky, in a way, attendees in a separate attendance list. It was the first time in all his three semesters at this university that Neil had encountered such a system, but an extra point on the exam wouldn't have hurt him. After all, he'd originally enrolled in the Faculty of Mathematics and Business and hated history from the bottom of his heart.
But he genuinely wondered why Andrew decided to tie his life to this endless series of dates and names... And to choose Economics as an additional subject.
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In the language of flowers, a pair of chrysanthemums can be a sign of friendship, and a small bouquet of cornflowers will let its recipient know the sender's feelings of affection for them. On Valentine's Day, it was customary to give huge bouquets of bright red roses as a sign of true love.
However, Neil wasn't rotting in the university library to confess his feelings in a particularly beautiful way. No, he was looking for records of the most idiotic flower meanings from the Victorian era, spending more than two hours just digging through old shelves to find suitable materials for this type of situation.
After all, Andrew clearly wanted to hear a more sophisticated way of telling someone "fuck you” than just actually saying that. So Neil made it his mission to find the most elaborate ways to do so. Even if it meant showing up at the library at eight in the morning the day before Valentine's Day. Although, in a way, his little research was related to the holiday. Neil was still choosing a bouquet for his beloved, if you could even call it like that. Considering what kind of flower meanings he was looking for.
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“Delivery for... Andrew Minyard?” A little chuckle ran through the audience when a courier with a huge bouquet appeared in the New History lecture auditorium.
Everything would have been fine if it hadn't been for the idiotic appearance of this flower arrangement. After all, Andrew received a truly awful combination of a bouquet of buttercups, red roses, tulips, basil, and tansies. Neil had no idea how much of his luck had been spent on the poor florist finding all the varieties and putting this monstrosity together, so that it would at least look presentable by ten percent.
However, judging by the reactions of students around the auditorium, even that hadn't saved the situation.
“Who in hell hates him that much?” Neil’s close friend, Alison, whispered next to him. Her specialty involved a quick course in history, so she was stuck for these lectures every now and then.
Neil didn't answer and just swallowed a grin, concentrating on taking his notes. To be honest, he should have turned around and noticed that Andrew hadn't taken his eyes off him for the entire three hours of the lecture.
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“Just a casual reply to your little message,” suddenly he heard a voice behind him.
Of course, exchange students had nothing better to do than send apples with insults on them.
“Guessed so,” Neil hissed through his teeth, turning around.
To his surprise, he found Andrew's twin brother Aaron and Alison near the library entrance.
“I think you'll find six more,” Andrew shrugged.
A too carefully chosen number to be a mistake.
“Why exactly seven of ‘em?” Neil asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Love number,” Andrew smirked. It was his favorite way to slowly drive Neil crazy ‘till he fucking explodes.
“I’m gonna murder you, right now,” he hissed through his teeth. “Slowly and very, very painfully."
“How exactly? By talking me to death with your magnificent accent?” Andrew deadpanned out of the blue.
It took Neil a long time to fully understand the meaning of what had been said. In a few seconds, so many emotions appeared on his face that his head started spinning. Alison next to him was trying not to laugh, hiding her smile behind a bouquet of flowers that her girlfriend had given her that morning.
After about another minute of this unbearable silence, when Neil was trying to decide whether to accept this extremely strange compliment or tell the idiot to go away, Aaron finally couldn't take it anymore. Quietly muttering some incoherent insults under his breath towards everyone around, he peeked into someone else's locker. Neil paid no attention to this gesture, but a few moments later another package with a second apple appeared right in front of his nose. A neat engraving showed an inscription more fitting for the holiday. It took Neil about three more minutes to realize it was a confession.
“The fuck?” Was all he could manage to say, holding the inscription on the apple up to the light as if it were some kind of joke. Felt like it, at least.
“Not my idea,” Andrew decided to clarify. Yes, that definitely was not his style. Andrew was more of “put ‘want to’ on one apple and ‘fuck you’ on the other” type of person.
“I still think it should have been something more romantic. Like ‘Will you be my Valentine?’“ Alison immediately rolled her eyes.
“You don't get it,” Aaron clicked his tongue. “They’re flirting right in front go our eyes.”
Neil looked at each of them in turn, wanting to throw those damn apples at their heads. He avoided Andrew's gaze at every cost.
“Just kiss already, for fuck’s sake.” Alison threw her hands up. Her bouquet almost hit Neil right in the face.
“This is so exhausting to watch, you have no idea,” Aaron complained. “Your attempts to show each other who hates whom more are the stupidness thing I’ve ever had to witness.”
“Know what?” Neil hissed, pointing at them one by one.
“All ears,” Reynolds mocked him with a little delighted smile on her face.
You can't throw apples at people... Don't throw food... Remember, it’s literally a confession…
“Fuck you,” Neil didn't hesitate long over the insult. “Both of you.”
In the next moment, he gently grabbed Andrew's hand and led him out of the library. He had so many questions that he would probably really talk Andrew to death. However, the he was not exactly against it.