Chapter Text
The constant chatter around the brunet didn't seem to clear even with the arms of the ticking clock nearing the next hour. They seemed to hold onto every second they could, trying to speak what was no less than complete nonsense to him, to even more, less than interested people.
Truthfully, he couldn't care less about their business, just the fact that they couldn't keep it down…
Matthias crossed his arms over the desk, head laying against the cushioning, trying to focus on anything but the incessant sounds of insufferable small talk. Much as he tried, though, it was difficult to really think in such a stuffy environment, no dreams far fetched could really take him away when it was this loud in the room.
As usual, he could hear the same few, very loud voices. Their voices stood distinct and recognizable even through the cacophony, it was honestly impressive even if it only served to worsen his disgruntled and irritable state.
Lily's was easy enough to pick out, the high pitch was very different from most in the class. Her legs swung underneath her as she sat over a desk—a clear violation of the rules, but it's not like she cared much for those. She was talking about the events of the sports festival, then something about a new cheerleading routine for matches, then praising a friend for a performance, then on and on and on. She never seemed to stop at one topic, really.
Then there was Miss Brynhildr, arm perched carefreely over her desk and under her chin. Her chipper voice and strong accent weigh her words heavily above the others. He could barely understand most of it. From what he can gather though, it was all about some stories of a faraway place, one she grew up in before moving here. He couldn't care less.
His head panged. A hiss escaped his lips as the pain settled, much like a rock sinking to the bottom of a lake. The constant chatter was getting to him, much more than it was before. Every word struck like a spurred bat, it's almost like it's trying to worsen his migraine. Yes, rationally it's understood that it was not like that, that not everything served to further his miserable existence, yet he couldn't help but plead for it to all just quiet down and give him at least one moment of peace!
Vaguely, over the sound of a thousand voices, the door slid open, signaling the professor walking into the still lively classroom. Most of the conversations didn't halt, only diminished into quieter, hushed voices that bothered him just as terribly. At least now he could make out the stern voice of the professor in the front, vaguely at least, through filters of unending whispers and an awful headache.
“...I trust you all will be on the best of your behaviors. I hope you remembered what I said last week.”
Last week? He rolled his eyes at those expectant words. He couldn't even remember whatever it was that professor mentioned mere days ago! Truly he should've expected less from this class, the worst of the worsts, the bottom of the barre—
The door slides open once more amidst his thoughts, footsteps, calculated and rhythmic yet no less gentle. A boy?
Right, he remembers now. A new student was coming here…
Every single one of his steps evoked a silence. The humble whispers turned to complete static. One would think a new, mysterious student would cause more questions and therefore whispers, but maybe it was that easily plastered smile that seemed so genuine, or the pure white bandages that covered one of his eyes in its entirety.
Maybe it was fear, or curiosity, or awe, or all of them?
Matthias didn't know. He couldn't explain it if he tried. The boy didn't look so special, if anything, his ingenuity would get him killed in a place like this.
Time seemed to slow, dilating around him and him alone. In the silence, one could only wonder if it was to size him up, determine his place in the ever-growing, brutal game. Perhaps admiration, even, of how his shoulders squared so properly and his stance so confident and humble. It extended far, farther than it has ever before. It was an impressive feat for a class like this.
“Good day everyone! My name is Florian. I hope we can all get along,” the voice is bright, highlighted by a British accent that all but hid his origins. It was confident, unwavering. Matthias couldn't help but look at him for at least one more second.
The teacher gave him a curt nod. “Thank you, Mr Brand. You may sit,” he paused, filing through the hectic room, “there.”
All eyes follow the ends of his fingers, Matthias notes how it suspiciously almost points towards him. It trails and trails and…
Great.
The chipper boy smiles, just as he always does and closes the distance between him and his newly assigned seat.
Matthias' expression drops, if it could even do that further, just as the blond’s bag does as well. Florian takes his seat and turns to the person to his left.
“It's nice to meet you!” it's almost blinding, irritating.
Matthias responds with a cold silence, turning away from the small talk he declares as noise. He doesn't want nor need to get to know more nuisances. He's fine with the silence. Being friends with someone like this new boy would only serve him further issues down the line.
Florian stands so opposite of him from what he could tell. A strength hanging from every action he decides, even in their simplicity and a confidence exuding from every word. An unshakable self, unafraid. It was clear he wasn't stupid either, his keen observant eyes already swarming the room, he was far from unaware.
The unspoken rejection shouldn't be too harsh, after all the blond was all but fragile. It shouldn't be too vague of a hint either, anyone else would pick up on it's disinterest.
And yet… “the room's really nice, isn't it? The desks aren't chipped and weak either. It's a wonder!” He only keeps on chatting, not taking the hint.
This is going to be a long, long year…