Chapter Text
15 year old Daron Malakian had been attending The Rose and Alex Pilibos Armenian School since he was a little snotty nosed kindergartener with untied shoelaces and mismatched socks.
He knew how to tie his shoes now,
but the socks went nowhere.
However, now they poked out from underneath dress pants rather than decorating the shins the tot uniform shorts didn’t cover.
He was late.
Again.
It was his own fault really, staying up late just to sneak up onto the apartment complex roof, finally able to play his old acoustic uninterrupted.
But now it costed him, making running to the bus stop.
Daron didn’t usually bring a backpack, he had no real use for it. So instead his papers were just folded up and stuffed into his pocket—which actually happened to make the run down the sidewalk quite a lot easier rather than having a heavy bag weighing you down.
Some things just work out I guess.
But then again, some don’t.
Because he was quick enough to catch the bus, or at least catch sight of it as it rounded the corner of the next block and disappeared.
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“Daron, this is the fifth time you’ve been inexcusably late this term.”
The usually gentle yet now undeniably annoyed voice of principal Mariam spoke, causing Daron’s eyes to settle down on his hands in his lap.
“You need to stop doing this.”
She said, sitting across the big maple wood desk between them, closing her book of students attendance records only after she ticked off the fifth strike in the column by Daron’s name.
“I know.”
Daron said quietly, his voice obviously holding some remorse.
Mariam seemed to notice this, and her face softened.
“Listen, I know you’re a good kid.”
She started, removing her glasses from where they were perched on the bridge of her nose and laying them aside.
“You’ve been with us for ten years, I know how you are, and this isn’t it.”
Daron glanced up momentarily from his hands but couldn’t stand the look of pity he suddenly got from the woman in front of him.
He looked back down.
“I know.”
He said again, focusing his eyes on his folded hands, resting atop his thighs.
Mariam sighed.
“I’m going to have to call your parents.”
She said, and the sorry tone in her voice was pretty evident.
Daron’s parents were lovely people, but they did hold those old Armenian parenting methods, and wouldn’t put up with him missing any school.
Daron’s lips drew into a firm line, dimples appearing in the corners of his mouth. He sighed.
“Yeah.”
Silence fell over the room for a moment before Mariam stood up from her chair.
She stepped around the desk, walking towards the door as she placed her glasses back upon her face.
“You’re excused.”
Daron stood up from the wooden chair opposite to the larger and now empty one, running a hand through his dark curls with a defeated expression.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome, Daron.”
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The clock seemed a thousand times slower than usual as Daron sat in his English class, the neglected question sheet lying on the desk in front of him.
He couldn’t imagine what his parents were going to think.
He got five strikes for being considerably late, and there was no way he wasn’t getting grounded.
However, as Daron was getting too caught up in his own thoughts, a hand nudged his shoulder.
“You good, man?”
Shavo asked.
Shavo was Daron’s best friend.
They’d met in 2nd grade over playing on the same dodgeball team in gym class, and had become inseparable since.
So of course, Shavo could tell when Daron wasn’t in his own head.
Or in this case, if he was too far in it.
“Oh, yeah.”
Daron said, sighing and shaking his head.
“I was late again.”
He admitted, looking over at his friend who raised an eyebrow.
“Was that your fifth strike?”
The blond asked.
“Yup.”
Daron answered exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.
“I’m fucked.”
“Yeah… yeah you’re fucked.”
Shavo said. Daron always appreciated how he didn’t sugarcoat anything—even if it stung a bit.
“But wait! Oh my god, I forgot to tell you,”
Shavo suddenly piped up, to which the darker haired boy looked over, confused.
“Karin is throwing a party tonight at eleven! Like that popular chick in Mr. Levon’s class? And everyone’s invited.”
Daron’s expression didn’t change, if anything it soured.
“Did you not just get the fact that I’m totally fucking grounded?”
Shavo rolled his eyes.
“Oh, come on, man. I know your—“
“Boys.”
Their teacher shushed.
They shut up for a second, staring at the teacher with owlish eyes, who eventually went back to what she was doing.
“Like I was saying, I know your bedroom window is right next to emergency fire ladder, you could totally sneak out.”
Shavo whispered enthusiastically, earning a not so enthused look from Daron.
“I’m not doing that shit.”
“Dude, live a little!”
Shavo insisted, whisper yelling to not get the attention of their teacher.
“You sneak out that way all the time to play guitar, you can do this too.” Shavo grinned.
“Plus, you’re way too fucking caught up in your grades, you need to loosen up a bit or that collar’ll suffocate you.”
Daron rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny the small bit of enticement Shavo’s plan tickled his head with.
He didn’t say anything, and the other boy just stared at him with that knowing smile.
“Fine.”
“Yes!”
Shavo celebrated a little too loud, getting a warning glare from the teacher in return.
“But no promises.”
Daron said, not being able to help the small grin that pulled at the corners of his lips.
“Whatever. I know you’re gonna come.”
“Fuck off.”