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You can’t keep your leg from bouncing as Miss Alphys calls each name, one by one.
“J-Jockington… Snowy… Monster kid…”
They all rise, one by one, accepting their marked tests with an odd enthusiasm. Some faces drop to frowns, some rise to grins.
You might piss yourself. No joke.
“S-Susie.”
You wince from the shrieking groan of the metal chair in the back of the classroom as Susie prances to the front, swinging her arms like she owns the place. She snatches the paper from Miss Alphys’ trembling hands with a confident smirk.
With one quick glance to a certain human in the classroom, she doesn’t even look at her test before crumpling it into a paper ball and shooting it perfectly into the garbage can. She lights up.
“Haha! Fifty bucks! Pay up!”
She laughs, weaving between desks to slam her fists onto the one behind you. You glide your hands over your face, trying to tune out the bickering.
“S-Susie, ah, please d-don’t damage school p-property.”
You hear roaring laughter following a joke you couldn’t make out. Is it because your heart's beating out of your chest? Maybe you should go see a doctor.
“B-Berdly.”
The bird rises quickly, ready to give his I-just-did-better-than-you-plebeians-on-this-test speech. Miss Alphys, surprisingly, shuts him up this time. Politely, of course. Wish she could’ve done that the last ten times.
He plucks the test by the stapled corner, holding it delicately as if it were an ancient artifact. It would mean something if he didn’t get the clear 100% every time. You’d hate him if he wasn’t your self-proclaimed study-buddy.
He proclaims it. Not you. Let that be clear.
Whatever mark you get on this test is partially on him.
Noelle is called right after, humbly holding the paper to her torso as if the red marker didn’t glow through the pages; a faint 98% visible. You can’t help but be a little jealous despite not knowing what you got yet. Not a 98, that’s for sure.
Your teacher barely glances in your direction before your piercing gaze sends her into a sweat-inducing panic.
She squeaks out your name, though very drowned out from your desk screeching and nearly tipping over from your speed.
Maybe you sprint. Maybe it’s a bit embarrassing. But it doesn’t matter now; the pages planted in your hand.
…
72%.
Time seems to freeze in place.
Damn it.
Your life force is being drained studying with that feathery nerd and you don’t even have a good grade to show for it.
You stand like a statue, flipping through the pages one after another. The small, polite X’s (how are X’s polite?), circles, and underlines are scattered everywhere. You got so many partial marks that were definitely undeserved; you don’t even think the 72% is accurate.
You don’t even realize Miss Alphys called another name until you feel a looming presence behind you.
Embarrassed, you crumple the paper to your chest and glance over your shoulder.
Kris.
Your mood somehow sours even more.
They don’t say anything. They just sorta… stare. At you.
You barely attempt to hide your disdain as you shuffle to the side, letting them pass. You probably look like an idiot, standing barely a foot away from the two as Miss Alphys hands them their test. You just want to see the–
94%. Yeah. Exactly what you expected.
You scurry away, back to your seat, ignoring Berdly’s pestering and grubby feathers trying to paw at your test. You hand it to him to get him to shut up.
You watch Kris stride back to their seat, but you conveniently find your desk very interesting when they meet your eye.
A paper swish is heard from behind you, right before a gasp.
“What?! A 94?! What are you, a nerd?”
You can somehow hear the shrug.
“You studied just as much as me!”
“...Nothing?”
A laugh. “Nada.”
“Maybe you got perfect,” they gesture to the garbage can. “Only one way to find out.”
A pencil case is lodged across the room, bashing the side of the can and tipping all the papers onto the floor. “Eh, guess we’ll never know. Hey, think if I erase your name on this one, Alphys’ll give me the mark?”
“Number seven!”
Right. That’s you. According to Berdly.
He’s waving your test in your face, mark blatantly out in the wild for everyone to see.
You cringe. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that placement after that test.”
“Ah, but to achieve top status such as myself is unrealistic for a simple normalton like you! Tsk…”
He starts going off about how he’s admirable and he pities average folk such as yourself. Or something. You’re not really listening anymore.
Your distaste for smart people grows exponentially everyday.
Berdly’s the smartest in the class, by far. At least he acts like he is. That’d mean something if it weren’t him. Despite that, you can’t help but not hate him as much as you probably should.
He helps you with everything. Your homework, studying, assignments. Well, if ‘helps’ means ‘reprimand you for everything you do wrong and give unwarranted and unwanted sympathy’. You’ll strangle him. Someday.
Despite being what you’d consider runner up (maybe even tied for first), Noelle’s not nearly as annoying as her brainiac buddy. You’d like to consider her a friend, actually. When Berdly overlaps homework ‘dates’ by ‘accident’ (they’re not dates. And definitely not by accident) and you three end up in the library, you actually enjoy her company. She’s quiet, but kind.
And then there’s Kris.
…
Kris.
God, do they make your blood boil.
There’s a difference between Berdly/Noelle and Kris. That being, Kris doesn’t try. And they do amazing.
How? You try, and you do awful. In comparison. Of course, you should never compare yourself to others, but it’s hard not to when all your efforts are being put to waste.
You don’t actually hate them. There’s just a mild, growing dislike for them that’s made ten times more obvious when they’re in slight proximity to you. But it’s not just because they’re naturally smart, talented, maybe a tad funny–
But, there’s the little things too.
Like the way they look at you. Especially when you’re with Berdly.
It’ll be minutes before class; they’ll arrive fashionably late or on the dot, not that you’re paying attention, and their gaze just lingers on you for a second longer than anyone else. You’ll be ‘listening’ to blue boy spew what you’d consider nonsense, but you’d look up out of instinct from the door being opened. And do you know what kind of look they give?
The one that says damn, looks rough.
They’re so lucky they don’t have a study partner (folding the worksheets into a tower with Susie doesn’t count). And the audacity to look down on you because you need one? The ego that human has is beyond this world!
And that’s not all.
During work periods, when they’re not destroying the classroom with Susie, they’re napping. As if saying yeah, I get an extra two hours of sleep while you tried to pull an all nighter but passed out three hours in.
Sometimes you can feel their feet nudging your chair. Or hear their small, faint snores. Or the scratch of their black, chipped fingernails on their desk. Or–
And that’s not all!
They have the nerve to ask Noelle for pencils when Noelle is your designated pencil lender. It’s like they want to steal all her pencils so there’s nothing left for you–
…
Are you being petty?
Of course not! These are reasonable, realistic accusations to make about someone, especially with the ample amounts of evidence you have.
They wish the worst for you, so you wish the worst for them.
Totally.
~*•*~
It’s another day of group work. Miss Alphys had overexplained how she’d watched a show where teamwork created unity and had immediately zipped her mouth shut.
With groups of two and three, you’re with Berdly and Noelle. No surprise there, right?
Your teacher's given you chart paper that’s way too big for your desk, as well as mostly dried-up markers. Noelle has this really weird hack where she can instantly revive them, but it’s far too complicated for you to even bother trying to understand.
Most groups actually don’t have functioning markers, so Miss Alphys seems to give up and says you can use pencil, too.
While Noelle and Berdly sift through their notes – arguing about which parts are relevant for your group’s given topic (if arguing meant Noelle suggesting something and Berdly morphing it into his own idea) – you’re the writer.
You feel confident enough to go straight with marker, but Berdly insists you write it all with pencil first and trace over it later. Like a toddler.
Okay. Sure.
A few minutes pass, and Noelle begins reading off what you need to write down. Easy enough.
You’re mindlessly listening, hand smooth and controlled to keep it neat, when you suddenly stop.
Because you’re not listening to Noelle anymore. She’s actually gone silent.
You’re listening to Kris, who’s standing right next to you.
Now you want to shield away like a toddler.
“Got a pencil?” They ask effortlessly.
Damn pencil stealer.
Noelle nods. “Oh– yeah. Just let me… find my–”
She’s twisting every which way, searching for her pencil case, but you remember clearing the tops of your desks to make room for the chart paper.
She’s not going to find it, is she?
You don’t bother keeping up with the conversation, turning Noelle’s laptop to view the notes she’s highlighted; the ones she was reading to you. Kris is still as a statue in the device's reflection, but you can feel the heat radiating from their body.
Ew. Is that creepy to think?
…
You’re a bit skittish now.
You will your hand to stop shaking as you continue writing.
Another minute goes by. It’s the longest minute of your life. Even Berdly’s telling Noelle to give up, piled under stupid gamer metaphors.
But Kris isn’t leaving.
…
Fine!
They win this time.
You stop writing mid-sentence, stretching your arm to jab the pencil towards their face.
“Just let them have this one, Noelle.”
She seems a bit confused as to why you’re talking to her, but gesturing to them. You’re not too sure either! All you know is you’d much rather talk to her than them.
They seem to give a face of slight doubt from the way Noelle reassures them. “It’s fine, Kris! We can just use the marker.”
“No, we cannot!” Berdly argues. But it’s too late.
Kris’ digits wrap around the wood, barely brushing your own. You can’t help but notice they’ve got chilly fingers–
Not important.
The marker calls to you now. Even if Berdly shrieks otherwise.
~*•*~
So you tried pulling another all nighter. Chugged half a carton of milk because you thought that since milk typically goes in coffee, there has to be some sort of energy boost associated with it. Didn’t work. Kinda stupid too, considering one google search would’ve told you it does the exact opposite. But it wasn’t warm, so you thought it’d be different. Like a reverse sleep agent. It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.
Not only is your neck sore from awkwardly passing out over your desk, but you’re also going to be late. Well, you are late.
You’ve never sped down the halls like this before. There’s only a few kids still chatting, uncaring of the warning bell, but most of them are gone.
It’ll be fine, you ration as your bag nearly falls off your shoulder. One last quick turn, and–
“HuuAH–”
You slam into someone as you cut the corner, letting out the most unattractive sound imaginable; a mix between a huh and an ah. Something falls on the floor, but you’re too distraught to look down.
You’re about to slap your palm to your mouth out of embarrassment, but you realize your back leg lost its footing. You’re falling backwards. Quickly.
Your arms flail behind you as you squeeze your eyes shut.
This is gonna hurt. Bad.
Brace brace brace–
Brace…?
…
You’ve stopped falling.
But you don’t feel the bruising impact…?
There’s two hands on your shoulders, righting you to your feet. They’re soft, but stable. You shiver when the coolness seeps through your clothes.
There’s a breath on your cheek, a warm contrast to their palms. You feel so close, you can’t help but creepily take a sniff. They smell sweet. Like apples. And pine. There’s something so familiar about it, but you can’t put your finger on it.
And you kinda just… want to keep breathing it in. Bottle it. You’d love to smell something so… pleasant every morning–
“You okay?”
Your eyes burst open. You may have gotten an aneurysm.
Of course, your knight in shining armour is none other than Kris.
Their grip on your shoulders loosens, but you’re very aware of the fact that they don’t step away. It seems like they’re almost scanning you. You nearly twitch.
Then, they…
…mutter your name as a question.
Oh.
You squint your eyes in confusion. In… disbelief?
You don’t think you’ve ever heard them say your name before.
…
And you hate how much you want to hear it again.
Their voice doesn’t sound as monotone and mumbly up close. Just soft. Very soft, from the way their tongue wraps around your name like a prayer–
Nope. Keep moving!
With such a confession now being buried into your very soul for no one to hear, you become acutely aware of how close you are.
“I–” you stutter, tripping over your own feet to make some distance. “T-thanks! I mean, sorry–”
They barely react. You wouldn’t have noticed the slight raise to the corner of their lip if you weren’t staring so intensely at their face. It’s to show no weakness, you tell yourself.
And your eyes drift upwards, to their strikingly beau– average eyes. Red? Pshh. You see that… everywhere. Like, on… uh– that one… guy…
Bail. You’re being an idiot! Go. Now!
“Okay!” You grin like a maniac, swerving around them like a car in traffic.
You swear you hear a small snort as you round to your locker, making your eyebrows furrow automatically like some sort of rudeness detector. And you can’t have them thinking you’re some joke, so you snap into an immediate U-turn. Just to be met with an empty hallway.
That damn zombie ghost hybrid.
But your eye catches something on the surprisingly pristine floors. You can’t help but approach it; the shape being all too familiar.
It’s a pencil.
Kris’ pencil.
~*•*~
You try not to think about the fact that you know this is Kris’ pencil and not Noelle’s, because that’s sorta stalker-ish, right? Noelle’s pencils are always themed (Christmas, of course), perfectly sharpened, and in peak condition. You never believe she’s ever used any of the pencils she’s lended you because they look so fresh.
This pencil? It’s atrocious.
There’s nothing horribly wrong with it, like, for example, Susie’s pencils (which are usually snapped in half, chewed to oblivion, and found on the ground). It just looks very used. Which is unbelievable, considering you’ve never seen them use it ever. Not that you’re keeping track.
It’s got no eraser; the ferrule was squeezed to push as much of the remaining eraser out as possible. That might be a bite mark? The orange paint’s been scraped off the edges. The lead end is dull and the grey colour has smudged onto the wooden tip.
Also, what kind of maniac brings nothing but a beaten up pencil to class, courtesy of their pant pocket? You’d think with a mother like Toriel, they’d be swimming in school supplies. Y’know, like a pencil case?
You spin it between your fingers.
Why’re you still holding it? Why didn’t you just leave it on the ground?
Why’re you even debating what to do with it? Throw it out.
You brush your thumb along the chipped paint. You’re touching something that belongs to Kris. You’re touching a place that Kris’ fingers have definitely touched. And that shouldn’t make your heart race the way it just did.
You pause.
You hold the pencil to your nose and sniff. Of course it doesn’t smell like apples, you creepy idiot.
~*•*~
Susie’s been in the bathroom for thirty minutes.
Kris watches Alphys scurry back and forth in the front of the classroom, nervously debating what to do next. “I d-don’t understand what she might be… doing i-in there that would take this long. I-is she okay?”
“Maybe she FELL IN! HAHA!”
No one graces Snowy with anything. Not even a cough.
“W-well… I can’t– shouldn’t leave a student u-unattended for this long. It’d be nice if a-anyone would volunteer to s-search for her–”
Berdly leaps onto your desk dramatically. “Worry not, Miss Alphys! I shall find the wretched beast, only tamable by a valiant knight such as myself!”
Your notes, which Berdly currently plants himself on, fly to the floor like leaves when he bolts into the hallway. They witness you groan, clutching your face in your hands.
“...He knows he’s not a-allowed in the girl’s bathroom… right?”
Noelle almost instinctively rises. “I’ll, um, watch over him, Miss Alphys. And find– S-susie.”
Noelle’s smile turns dopey as she dashes after him, closing the door much more smoothly than Burghley. They ignore how the rest of the class resumes chatting, resting their head on their desk. It’s weirdly loud, especially with the two most noisy people absent.
Susie barely looked conscious before asking to go. They think she was half asleep, likely intending to leave the walls of the classroom and not return. Wherever she is, she’s not coming back.
Their eyes close, almost perfectly comfortable, when they feel something brush against their leg.
They lift their head, immediately met with your very stiff back. You’re really still. Probably not breathing.
They lean back to glance at their feet. One of your pages rests perfectly on their shoe. Without thinking, they pinch it between their fingers and scan it on their lap.
It’s just some random worksheet Alphys assigned to them a few days ago, marked courtesy of Berdly. They can tell by the obnoxiously long pointers and tiny checkmarks, as if embarrassed to say you did something right.
They always wondered why you bothered with him. Why not go to Noelle? She’d be a much better tutor; much more uplifting, helpful, useful. Anyone would be a better option.
Hell, even Kris would be a better option.
They mindlessly poke you with the corner of your worksheet, half-assedly trying to get your attention. You tilt your head back just enough to make slight eye contact.
“You dropped this,” they offer.
And there’s just something about your eyes. The way you looked at them in the hallway when you bashed into them. The way you’re looking at them right now.
They’ve never talked to you before. Not once, not until yesterday. And they barely said anything.
Yet, you’re looking at them like you’re looking at nothing but them.
There’s something that swells deep within their chest. Makes them feel weird. Warm. A bit uncomfortable.
You never used to look at them like this before. You always seemed in a constant state of pissed off. Not that they really cared; it was none of their business.
It wasn’t until the test scores came in, and you followed a similar pattern. You’d very unsubtly glance at their percent and scoff like they’d just insulted your entire family. That’s when they realized your mood was specific to them.
Again, they didn’t really care. You can feel whatever you want. They won’t stop you.
But now, they talk to you once – randomly, in a scene straight out of some sappy romance movie – and your entire persona’s been flipped.
You somehow seem even more uncomfortable. But not a bad uncomfortable; like a flustered uncomfortable. They’re not sure if it’s better or worse.
Did they make you feel weird when they caught you? Should they have just let you fall? Probably.
They’re still holding the sheet, arm getting a bit tired from supporting itself. They have to rustle the sheet, just slightly, for you to snap out of whatever daze you’ve put yourself in and take the paper with a squeaky thank you.
You twist awkwardly, facing the front once again. Eventually, you seem to refocus, sorting your papers in some intricate, over-the-top way Berdly probably taught you.
They realize they’re still staring at the back of your head when you itch it thoughtfully. You’re talking to yourself; planning out your thought process for the next problem, mumbling small quips to the comments Berdly wrote in your feedback (stuff they doubt you’d ever say to his face).
They have to stop themself from straight up laughing at one of them. Only so their classmates don’t think they’re crazier than they’ve already presented themself to be.
It feels almost magical the way they’re able to tune out everything around them and listen to your commentary.
They hardly register their eyes drifting shut. They’re too busy focused on the smile etched into your voice.
~*•*~
It’s been a few long days of unbearable work periods, pretending to do the worksheets you’ve all been assigned by Miss Alphys (you’re three pages behind). You were going to catch up at home, but that’s been a disaster, too. There are so many ample distractions that have kept you from even starting. Like the texture of the carpet. Or Kris’ pencil– not Kris’ pencil.
Okay. Maybe you’ve been peeking at it every once in a while from where it sits in your pencil holder. Maybe you’ve used it once or twice, despite the lead being actual ass cheeks.
What is wrong with you? Nothing even happened!
Did feeling their stupid hands on your shoulders and being close to their face really do that much? You don’t even like Kris! You’d be happier in the kindergarten class!
…
You’re jealous of their natural academic talent. You know that; you’re not that much of an egomaniac to think otherwise. But… maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it always has been.
Maybe deep down, you actually… admire… Kris. For being so stupidly effortlessly smart. Eugh.
And maybe you just needed a small excuse to indulge in your admiration. Like getting a good look at their face.
Not that it matters, anyways!
A small admiration for a fellow classmate. You admire Noelle, too! No different! You admire many people. Maybe even Berdly!– okay not Berdly.
It’s. No. Different.
You’ll return the pencil tomorrow.
You’re not even sure why you’re giving it back. You just don’t want to stare at it anymore. It’s just a reminder of the lack of effort they put into everything. Which is totally rubbing off on you, considering the absolute flunk you’ve found yourself in.
So the next day comes. And your hands are way too sweaty.
You’re a punctual ten minutes early, for some reason. Definitely not a good idea, as now you’ve got ample time to just think about how to do this.
“Hey, you left your pencil on the ground a week ago and I kept it and wanted to give it back–”
No. Too much info.
Should you lead with something?
“Hi Kris. How was your weekend? Oh? That was days ago? Oh? I’m being weird? No! This is how I always act–”
…
Why’re you trying to explain yourself?
How about…
“Here. You dropped this.”
Solid, straight to the point, easy. Done. Okay. Okay.
The bell rings. Thankfully, Berdly has occupied himself with Noelle (sorry, Noelle. Valiant sacrifice). But Kris is nowhere to be seen.
Another ten minutes pass. Nothing.
Miss Alphys is about to take attendance, waiting extra long in case more people show up, when Susie busts through the door, Kris not far behind her. They both look a bit… battered. Small scratches litter their hands, some on their faces.
“Kris! S-Susie, you’re b-both here.”
“Yeahh, we had to ward off the leftover raccoons. Just don’t know when to quit. Would’ve definitely followed us into the school.”
The class goes silent. You can subtly hear Noelle giggling to herself.
“...R-raccoons?”
“What? You’ve never seen ‘em behind the school? Near those big bins?”
Miss Alphys breaks into a sweat. “You mean… you and Kris were… d-dumpster diving?”
“Eh, more like dumpster rummaging. Diving is for the weekends.”
Susie waltzes to the back, leaving behind a very… interesting odor. Like a mix between old school lunches and paint. It’s not pleasant whatsoever.
Miss Alphys eyes their cuts. “D-do you need to see the school nurse?”
“Nahh, we’ll be fine. Right, Kris?”
Kris, who’s still standing at the doorway, nods with a quick yup and moves to take their seat.
You can’t help but eye them intensely, bracing yourself for the same odor. But it never comes.
They radiate the smell of fur. Not like wet dog, rotting grass type of fur. But like a cat, where you know they haven’t taken a bath in months but their self-cleaning makes them smell like an odd flower anyways. And, of course, apples. Sweet, sweet apples.
They stare at you as they approach. Then, they glance at Berdly. Then back at you.
Wow, they’re good at holding a stare. You’re sure you could cook an egg on your face.
You grip Kris’ pencil harder in your lap, immediately pretending your eraser is the most interesting thing in the world.
You take a deep breath as they pass you. Yeah, furry apples.
Miss Alphys announces what you already know; it’s another work period for the upcoming test. This unit is more self-taught, anyways, which is both good and bad. Good because you have more time in class to work, bad because the self-taught aspect is usually replaced with Berdly-taught.
Susie immediately gets Kris’ attention with a flying eraser (likely meant to hit them but instead it skims your cheek and hits Berdly square in the head), commenting on how badass their scars look.
Okay. Before they both somehow find another excuse to leave, you need to do it. Now.
Just turn around.
Your body stiffens up.
C’mon! Just pretend you absolutely hate their guts like you did before.
You brace yourself.
Do you turn slowly? Or quickly? What if you scare them? Oh, who're you kidding. You couldn’t scare them even if you tried.
You turn. You can feel how awkward you probably look.
You're staring right at the back of their head.
Susie’s the first one to notice you, since she’s facing you. You’ve never seen her look so confused before. You open your mouth to speak, but your voice dies in your throat when Kris acknowledges Susie’s perplexed expression and turns to the culprit.
Yeah.
Susie’s right. They do look badass with all those scars.
Shut up. You wish you could just stop thinking.
Kris never shows any emotion, ever. Which is why you’re so shocked when you watch their eyes widen, just slightly.
“Hi,” you wince at your shaky voice.
“Hi,” they echo.
You’re staring.
“You–” you clear your throat awkwardly. “You dropped this?”
Why’d you say it like it was a question?
As if there was a delay in your actions, it takes you a second to realize you need to give Kris the pencil you’ve been gripping so hard it might snap. So you stiffly offer it, acutely aware of your moist palms and probably moist pencil.
They watch it as if they don’t trust it– don’t trust you. They just got here; they’re probably wondering when the hell they dropped it. Explain yourself!
“It’s yours,” you say stupidly, as if that wasn’t already implied. “You dropped it a few days ago–”
No! That’s exactly what you weren’t supposed to say!
Your mouth clamped shut. Their expression doesn’t change one bit; they’re giving you a poker face. Y’know who’s expression does change?
Susie’s.
She gives you an incriminating, almost knowing smile. You want to crumple in your seat.
“A few days ago? You couldn’t have given it back earlier?”
And you do the worst thing you could’ve done. You launch into defense mode.
“Well, okay, but returning a pencil isn’t exactly at the top of my priority list. I have tests to study for and homework– And I was going to, but class has been busy, and I’ve been busy, and I’m sure you’ve been busy… with…”
You insinuate to the whole dumpster diving thing.
“Hey, Kris?” She gets their attention, playful mockery dripping in her tone. She gestures to the pencil now in their hand. “How long’d that take? Three seconds?”
Yeah, she has a fair point.
You’re about to debate between cowering under Kris’ intense glare or give another stupid excuse that Susie of all people could probably pick apart, when the screeching caw of a bird catches your attention.
He didn’t actually caw. Though, it did sound like it.
“Don’t busy yourself with the lower class when I’ve already maxed out my level of genius.”
You’ve never taken a Berdly beckoning so quickly before.
You give an almost manic smile to the most blank face you’ve ever seen. “Okay have fun!” Have fun? “Bye!”
Totally taking the chicken route, you scoot your chair further from the pair and way closer to the front. You can feel both their eyes stabbing you from behind.
Berdly seems unimpressed but ultimately (some form of) proud of you for accepting your beckoning like a dog. Noelle, who’s sitting next to you by proxy, would have stars in her eyes if this were a cartoon.
“You were talking to Susie?” She leans forward, just slightly. “What were you talking about? What was she saying? Did she say anything funny?”
Your eyes gravitate to the chalkboard and you start to zone out, trying to calm your heartbeat and reduce the sweat drenching your back. But a voice cuts through your rushing thoughts.
“Hey Kris. I think you have an admirer.”
Your eye twitches. You turn just in time to see Susie punching Kris’ shoulder and laughing. But Kris isn’t laughing.
Their eyes are on you. And you can make out just the faintest flush on their cheeks.
You feel all your hard work go down the drain as your heart rate spikes once again.
Damn it.
~*•*~
You’ve never felt so hyper aware in your life. It’s like everything you do now has an ulterior motive.
You used to be so on top of everything you did. Not that you were amazing at it; that’s what Berdly is for. You’d scooch your chair just enough to reach his desk (but far enough to keep your much needed distance), sitting on either side of him. Now, you sit in front of him.
Why? Because it gives you a good view of Kris. And a good view of the rest of your classmates. That’s the important part! It’s about knowing your competition.
Not that it really matters, of course. You’re here to work diligently and efficiently.
Berdly’s showing you some random function and what pieces of the graph correlate to what parts of the equation. It’s covered in a bunch of gamer lingo, but he’s ‘trying’ in his own way. You’re nodding along to him, a bit too focused on pretending to pay attention for you to actually process anything he’s saying.
Oh well. Looks like you’re skimming decade-old YouTube videos for tutorials later.
If you start listening now, you won’t understand a thing. It’s like jumping midway into a book; there’s no context for what the hell’s going on. And God forbid you use any intuition skills to piece together what he’s saying. The reason you’re sitting here with him is because you have none.
Plus, you’d rather look conveniently behind him at a certain duo.
Kris has turned their chair to face Susie, so all you see is their brown tuft of hair. From where you’re sitting, you can barely peak over their shoulder to view the array of stuff on her desk. They’ve got pencils, crayons, pencil crayons, and chalk (ironic) that’re nearly rolling off the edge.
Susie whispers something as she continues dumping more drawing material from the plastic bag she got from who knows where, Kris nodding in confirmation.
They subtly scan the class – an action you’d likely not notice if you weren’t ogling – twisting their body uncomfortably.
You seem to make eye contact much more frequently as of late.
Their eyes linger on you, just enough for you to see their eyes poking through their bangs.
You really like their eyes. Yeah, you’ll admit it now. Do all humans have red eyes? Or is Kris just apple-themed?
And they smile at you. It’s a small one, sure, but is anything Kris does anything more than small?
They quirk their head, like a cute bird. They’re probably so confused as to why you’re resting your chin against your palm, sighing like some corny schoolgirl staring at her crush.
For some reason, the shame leaves you when you ogle at them.
And it returns tenfold when they break eye contact.
Oh wow, you’re such a loser.
You follow where they’ve set their eyes – on a certain teacher who’s engrossed in the school computer, watching something she’d probably immediately alt+tab from if someone snuck up on her. May or may not (definitely may not) be school related.
They seem to get all the confirmation they need, slipping their hand against their leg, pulling something out of some mysterious pocket that you can’t make out. It isn’t until they lay it on the desk when you realize it’s a knife.
Susie seems to raise an eyebrow unamused, not nearly as shocked as she should be. She nods as they grip it confidently and start… scraping the crayons to make fine powders.
Huh.
You figure they’re doing something stupid, so you try to tune back into Berdly’s explanations. After about three seconds, you realize you don’t have the energy, so you end up zoning out for a bit.
Miss Alphys gave a new worksheet today, so you definitely need to catch up on that. The one Berdly’s going over is yesterday’s worksheet, on which you got half the questions wrong. No need to panic; you have all of tonight to figure out the logic.
There’s also the one before that. You can probably squeeze that one in tonight too. There’s also that workbook she handed out a while ago. Apparently Berdly claims some of the questions are of your ‘skillset’, so maybe you can fit those in sometime tomorrow. Work periods aren’t exactly work periods for you anymore, moreso tutoring sessions that you don’t think are useful in the moment, but actually end up helping you on the homework.
Doesn’t make them any more fun to sit through, though–
Berdly stopped talking. Oh no.
Did he notice? No, no. He’s not looking at you.
You follow his spiteful gaze to Susie, who’s planted herself right next to Noelle’s desk; hands in her pockets, leaning back casually. On instinct, you glance over to Kris. They’re already pinning you down with their eyes; the raise of their eyebrows is a clear oh crap.
“–and it’ll be cool. Trust,” you hear Susie finish.
Noelle’s definitely too busy listening to her voice to understand a word she said.
“Oh– huh?” Something clicks in the deer’s head, cheeks glistening red. “It’s not mine. But I can get mine from my locker? If… you want?”
Nevermind. She heard something. What’s not hers?
“Nah, it’s fine. Who's this, anyways?”
Curse your eavesdropping addiction. What’re they talking about?
Then Noelle says your name, gesturing to you like it’s the funniest thing in the world, still staring at Susie.
Your what? Your what?
You’re already sweating and you don’t even know what’s happening.
You blindly stare up at Susie, who’s already inspecting you like fresh meat.
Berdly squaks, flailing his arms around animatedly. “I’m afraid not, Susan! I have claimed ownership over the water, as I own the owner who ultimately has ownership over it!”
“What does that even mean? You don’t own me,” your eyebrows furrow. At least that clears up what she wants.
Despite that, Susie still decides to ask you directly.
”Hey. We’re doing– uh, a science project. And we–” Something clicks in her head and she grins villainously. You don’t like it.
“Kris needs your water for it. Mind lending a hand? Er, a bottle?”
You freeze. Berdly’s about to say something more, so you squeeze his beak shut.
One glance at Kris reveals they’ve turned back around, facing away from you. They’re scraping more aggressively than before, from the look of their quick arms.
“C’mon,” Susie offers an all-too-friendly smile. You’re unnerved. “We’ll give it back faster than you gave back Kris’ pencil–”
Okay! That’s enough of that!
“Sure!” You announce, snatching your water bottle from Noelle’s desk to shove in her face, hoping to shut her up.
Susie seems pleased you’ve agreed, but there’s something else in her eyes. A glint of mischief.
“Wait one sec.”
She smoothly spins to face Noelle once again, now mumbling something you can’t make out. Noelle seems beyond flattered for some reason, proceeding to offer Susie her entire pencil case and the few pencil crayons scattered across her desk with an ecstatic smile.
Coming back to you, she shrugs. “Actually, could you bring it over for me?” She gestures to her newly acquired materials. “Hands are full.”
You squint your eyes. “Just put the pencil crayons in the case, man.”
“Can’t get the zipper,” she’s already begun walking away. “Hands are full.”
You sigh, a bit more dramatically than you actually feel, and release Berdly. You ignore when he starts going off and follow Susie.
She’s just about sat down when Kris starts talking, and you register you’re not on your A-game when you realize you’ve been duped. Your realization comes through the squeeze in your chest at the sound of their voice.
“I was trying to tell you that wasn’t–” they notice Susie’s not holding the water bottle. You are. And their voice dies, just a bit. “–Noelle’s.”
You’re still standing. They have to tilt their head up to look at you. You feel your stomach churn at their expression.
Their expression.
You want to dissect it. There’s so much and yet so little to see.
Shock, confusion, amusement, something else. Something else. What is that?
…
You don’t think you’ve blinked for a minute.
You feel so unbelievably pinned to the spot. Is it bad you kinda like it?
Susie’s the one to clear her throat, reminding you that you’re still alive and here with a purpose.
“Right,” your voice is hoarse. You lift the bottle in your hand. “What’s this for, again?”
It’s only then when you notice the giant accumulation of rainbow powders that sit in the center of the desk, all the corpses of school supplies circling around it like some insane sacrificial campfire.
You can hear the smile in Susie’s voice. “Told you. Science experiment.”
She dumps the rest of Noelle’s hoard in front of Kris, who immediately gets to work. They glide the blade effortlessly along the tips of the pencil crayons; thumb controlling the movement. You’re maybe staring just a bit too hard at their hands–
“Do you think this’ll explode?”
Kris shrugs. “Hopefully.”
You let out a laugh before you can stop yourself.
They’re trying to hide it, but you can make out the small squiggle of their mouth turning upwards.
It takes about a minute, but Kris has gone through about three quarters of Noelle’s stuff. Susie told them not to completely ruin the supplies, to which Kris raised an eyebrow at. Susie made up some random excuse about it being someone else’s property and Noelle will give her shit for it, but you can’t help but scoff internally. That fact never stopped her before.
You’re still stupidly standing next to Susie’s desk like you’re lost. You don’t realize you’re getting a bit tired until you start fidgeting, switching between each foot.
Susie notices. “You okay there?”
“Yeah, I’m just–” you adjust again, tilting slightly to rest your hip on the desk. “Yeah.”
She, to your surprise, picks up on context clues, and you can just see something formulating in her brain when she peers at Kris, then you.
She tips back, as if she’s about to say the most casual thing in the world.
“Just sit on Kris’ lap. They’re pretty much like that one dude– Santa Claus. Since they radiate jolliness and positivity. Y’know, especially with the knife.”
It’s a joke. You can tell from the way Susie howls right after.
But you’re not laughing. You actually might pass out just thinking about it. Did you even hear the second half of that? Probably not!
Kris’ lap? Feeling their chest against your back? What if you start sliding off, and they have to wrap their arms around your stomach–
You brush your hand against your forehead as if you were wiping something away, but you’re just trying to feel how hot you are. It’ll help you translate to how horribly you're burning up.
You don’t even notice Kris freezing, too. Their movements, still as a pond.
You’ve now decided the ceiling is very fascinating; all those indents, oh wow! Is that a stain? You’d crawl into the vents if you could!
“What?” Susie sneers, defending herself against Kris’ probably violent stare. “I’m just tryna help!”
They brush their sleeve against their face, trying to rub the emotion their cheeks.
Oh, and you’re staring again.
The sight's just so entrancing. You’ve never seen Kris truly off their guard.
It’s… really cute.
But there’s something else. They’re thinking. Hard. Smoke coming out of their ears, rusty gears turning; all of it.
They’ve decided something, and so you wait.
Kris shuffles, sitting so they’re hanging off their chair, leaving half of it vacant–
Oh.
Oh no.
“Sit,” they pat the empty half once, then return to scraping with their knife.
Susie’s got a hand over her mouth, not-so-obviously trying to hide her tear-inducing laugh.
Sitting next to Kris? And not in an oh we’re kinda close and maybe we’ll brush a bit– no. Like, flushed against each other. Spreading body heat. Not being able to look in each other’s general direction because you’ll end up nose-kissing–
Oh my sweet Angel.
You don’t want to deny them. That’s just rude, right? They offered. You’re not just accepting because you want to feel their sweater with your own hands. No.
You don’t bother saying anything, because your soul might leave through your esophagus if you open your mouth.
And so you scooch next to them, stiffly sliding until you’re just touching the chair. You might as well be squatting.
But you didn’t give your legs a break from standing just to make them squat, right?
You scooch a bit more. You’re maybe a quarter on.
When their arm adjusts to get a better grip on their next victim, you feel them brush against your own.
You swallow. It goes down very slowly. Very painfully.
Just rip the bandaid off.
You usher yourself closer maybe a bit too fast, okay a lot too fast and you end up practically slamming yourself into their side. They still.
…
They’re very warm.
Definitely not as warm as your malfunctioning body, but it’s really nice.
You try not to think about the fact that they’re still not moving. Was that too much? You’re thinking about it. You should just fling yourself to the floor and crawl under the tiles–
“You’re really warm,” they mumble, replicating your thoughts back to you like a mind reader.
You’re on autopilot now. If you weren’t, you’d likely start laughing hysterically.
“Am I? Didn’t notice. Must be my natural insulation and heating unit.”
For some reason, your default is humor. But it worked, because they’re laughing softly.
They’re laughing.
You made them laugh.
Oh, you need to hear them laugh again. Right now.
A voice interrupts your thoughts. To be honest, you forgot you were in the classroom.
“Better?” Susie asks with an incriminating smile. “That was painful to watch.”
You’re not sure why, but you feel more confident now. “Hey. I’m the one with the water, remember? Don’t insult me unless you wanna cancel the science fair.”
“Of course, of course. Sorry, boss.”
Kris shakes their head to themself as you and Susie start to bicker. You notice them switch hands after nudging your side one too many times; your curiosity starts to spiral.
Oh, they’re mixed handed!
…
That would’ve pissed you off a week ago.
It doesn’t take long for Kris to finish scraping the last bits of pencil crayon. They both begin forming the collection of powder into a giant mountain, as if this was just a part of the plan. You don’t question it. Out loud, anyways.
While Susie creates a little divot in the top, Kris turns expectantly to you. Which would’ve been fine (it wouldn’t, you would’ve cowered under their gaze anyways) if they weren’t an inch from your face.
“Then you pour it on top,” they instruct, as if this proximity was completely normal and okay.
The movement makes your eyes zone in on their lips. You didn’t mean to! It’s just– eyes naturally gravitate to change!
And they notice. Oh boy do they notice.
You thought they turned red before? This time, their ears burst into flames. They’re somehow able to stop it from spreading, but it concentrates right across their cheeks and nose.
You applaud them for their self-control; you probably look like you just ran a marathon. Maybe the rest of your body will shut down from all the blood clogging your throat.
Once you calm down just a tad, you’re left identifying every shade of red in their eyes. Your self-control has left alongside your dignity.
You’re an actual idiot. You wanna know why? It’s such a stupid thought.
Do you want to know what your first thought is?
…
I really
want to
lean in
right now.
…
“Ahem.”
You both immediately break away. You might’ve gotten whiplash from the way your head snaps in the opposite direction.
Susie nearly cries your name from how much she’s holding it in, but she keeps her composure.
“You’re up,” she clutches her mouth like she’s about to throw up.
Your hands quiver as you uncap your water bottle, splashing just a bit too much water into the divot due to your pumping adrenaline. It pours over the edge like a volcano.
Susie instantly gets to work mixing it all like some sort of messed up baking concoction. The water becomes discoloured, staining her hands in the process.
Speaking of hands, Kris is suffocating their knife in a death grip. Might kill someone, actually.
Stop staring at their hands.
“What’s with the bottle, anyways?” Susie peeps at you for a second, then back to the concoction.
You raise an eyebrow, clearing your throat. “What about it?”
“Why’s it on Noelle’s desk?”
“Oh,” you sigh, as if expecting something much worse than that. “Because there’s no space on Berdly’s.”
“‘No space’?”
“Worksheets,” you answer simply.
Susie fake gags. “Gross.”
“Yeah. We’re going over stuff from the last unit. Apparently, you need stuff from that to understand stuff from this.”
Susie already looks confused. “Don’t look at me, I don’t even bother with that stuff.”
“With school?”
You give the obvious answer, but she takes the opportunity to jab at you anyways. “With Nerdly.”
“He’s making you do more than you need to.”
For some reason, Kris’ voice surprises you.
(And not just because they’re pretty much caressing your eardrum with their voice.)
“How so?”
“Don’t do every worksheet we’ve ever done. Just do the important ones.”
You cross your arms, ignoring how it brushes theirs slightly. “And how am I supposed to know which are important if I don’t know any of it?”
“You won’t know asking Berdly. Ask Noelle.”
“Noelle?” You instinctually glance at Susie, who’s become very focused on squishing the soggy powder into a ball. “Like hell her mom would ever let me come over to study one-on-one. She barely knows me; I’ve talked to her, like, twice. And it felt like she wanted to kill me with her gaze alone.”
They snort, and you remember you’re talking to Kris and you immediately smile like a giddy loser.
God, what a pretty sound.
With a slightly drier throat, you continue. “And plus, we’re not like that.”
Susie’s attention is immediately brought back. “Oh? And you’re ‘like that’ with Berdly?”
“I wish. Maybe then he’d stop slyly calling me an idiot.”
She wheezes as she finishes packing the wet powder into a tight ball. The colours have mended together slightly; now, it’s just streaked brown with swirls of rainbow. It’s kinda cool, actually.
“What now?” You ask, for some reason, completely on board with whatever this is.
“Well, it didn’t explode. Y’know how every good science experiment ends with an explosion?”
You’re not exactly picking up what she’s referring to. Well, not until she stands, placing the ball in the center of her desk. Your eyes widen as she cracks her knuckles.
Susie clasps her hands together, not once hesitating before she slams her fists down onto the ball,
You barely have time to shield your face.
Weird, rainbow-brown, sticky substance flies across the classroom. Either this stuff was made to be a projectile, or Susie’s a lot stronger than you give her credit for.
It’s coated the tiles, the desks (not just her’s, also the ones adjacent)…
It’s also all over your arms.
You try to shake the stuff onto the floor like a dog, but you halt when you feel shuffling next to you.
Kris seems to have just accepted their fate, bits of rainbow sludge coating their cheek.
You realize they’re snickering to themselves while Susie’s screeching on the floor, unintentionally rolling in the sludge that’s made it onto the floor.
You’re about to blame the dazed look on your face from the frankly toxic-smelling fumes.
…
Yeah, you think to yourself as some of their pearly whites peek through their lips. You could do this more often.
Their head turns when Miss Alphys mouth gapes in confusion, but they forgot you’re both hip-to-hip. Face-to-face.
They quirk their head again with a smile, sludge dropping down their face.
But their smile vanishes.
Your hand’s started gravitating towards a large chunk.
You brush it off with your thumb before you realize what you’re doing.
And that thumb? The one that greedily caressed their cheekbone like some disgustingly sweet trope? It leaves behind a warm trail. Might be the colour smudge from the slime, but you swear their eyes are glistening.
Save face! Hurry!
“Sorry!–” You lean back, acutely aware of the decreasing surface area of chair you’re sitting on.
You’re falling– again!–
You try to grab onto the desk before your ultimate demise, but your hand slips right off from the water.
So, from your panicked state of mind, of course, you go for the next logical option: Kris. Digging your fingernails into their sweater, their eyes widen a fraction.
But you’re already falling, and your legs are tangling with the desk and with their own.
And you end up dragging you both to the floor.
They land on top of you with a crazy grin, and you think you might’ve passed out for a second.
~*•*~
Yeah, the knife wasn’t a good look. And the mess. Who knew Miss Alphys even considered detention as a punishment? Not you, that’s for sure.
She wasn’t even that mad; more shocked, if anything.
And since both Susie and Miss Alphys considered you an accomplice, you got roped into it too. Probably well deserved.
It takes ten minutes of sitting in silence for your teacher to combust from the pressure – making up the excuse that you’ve all probably got places to be and families to get home to – allowing you to leave.
Susie all but bolts from her seat, shoving Kris’ head and not bothering to watch if they jolt from their nap or not.
They don’t.
…
Do you wake them up?
No, no. They need their sleep.
…
You wouldn’t have hesitated with the opportunity before all this.
You forget Miss Alphys is still in the room when she awkwardly clears her throat, breaking your attention from Kris (nothing new).
You hear them twitch. You make like susie and run.
The halls are cleared empty. You’ve seen stragglers of students, but it’s never been this dead before. It’s a bit creepy how silent it is.
You find yourself in front of your locker, legs having automatically pulled you here. You must’ve forgotten to lock your locker because the opened master sits on the hook, never having clicked in place.
Your heart drops.
Inside your locker sits a lone bottle of apple shampoo.
You twitch, mouth agape.
What the hell?
You try to hide the bottle like contraband, peering down each hallway for any witnesses.
Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but it just feels… incriminating for some reason.
Susie’s down one of them, standing next to Kris. She notices you, the bottle, and snorts. She looks as guilty and culpable as possible.
Is this?–
Kris follows her eyes, landing on the bottle you’re poorly hiding. They mirror your shock to the best of their monotone ability.
They slam their locker and immediately speed walk in the opposite direction. Susie’s not even trying to hide her amusement as she follows en suite.
Susie glances back and waves at you. “See you tomorrow, apprentice!”
You wait until she turns the corner to examine the bottle more closely.
Apple…
You pop the cap. Take a whiff.
You sigh from the familiarity. It smells really good.
It smells like…
Kris.
Yeah. That’s why it feels incriminating.
…
Wait.
That means…
It can’t mean what you think it means, right?
But… what else could it…
…
Oh no.
It can only mean one thing.
One thing.
Kris knows you’ve sniffed them.
~*•*~
You’re practicing self-control.
Maybe the shampoo bottle was a bit of a wakeup call. You hope it’s that and not the approaching unit test. Actually, maybe that's more of a concerning motivation.
Test. You need to do better on this test. Above an 80 at least.
Which is difficult with this new hobby of yours.
You’ve been flunking on quizzes, not even bothering to show Berdly due to the predicted reprimand you’d get. He might as well be your mother.
The staring-at-Kris has died down. You still peek, because your restraint is that of a rubber band, and they almost always meet your eye immediately, even when you’re glancing at the back of their head.
And they smile. No hesitation.
Not good!
You need them to… give you the finger, or something. No, that wouldn’t do anything. Susie gives you the finger all the time and you just laugh instead of scowl.
It’s like they know what they’re doing.
It’s like they want you to keep looking.
No way.
Doesn’t matter. You need to stop zoning out and start listening to the beak yapping in front of you. Wait. Maybe that’s contributing to the issue.
You shuffle your chair to sit beside Berdly instead of in front of him. He’s too busy in his own head to notice. You’re getting odd flashbacks to when you’d sit like this before; when you’d purposely face your back to Kris.
It takes about five minutes for your composure to break.
You glimpse over, twisting your back enthusiastically.
They’re still for a second, but they peek, too.
Their lip curls upward.
Your head feels fuzzy.
Damn it!
~*•*~
Test day.
Alphys scrambled the seating arrangements, mostly to separate Kris and Susie, since they have a known record for cheating.
They’re sitting next to you. You look beyond terrified.
They almost want to comfort you, but wonder if that’s too much. It’s a test; it’s not that big of a deal. But they know you’re different. You think differently.
You’ve been acting differently, as of late. You haven’t reverted back to the hateful glances you used to give them, which is nice. They’re not sure why they think it’s nice.
But you’ve stopped staring as frequently. And it’s an issue for them. Is it bad they’ve gotten used to it? Is it bad that they like it?
They thought they did something wrong (stupid, right?), so they started smiling at you more often. Nothing seemed to be wrong; you're still fidgety when they look at you. But then, you immediately revert back to your brainiac mode. Face forward, listening to Berdly.
They don’t like how the roles have reversed. Why’re they the one staring at your head?
Susie’s definitely noticed. Surprisingly, she doesn’t comment on it. Not that much, anyways.
Might be a silent apology after the shampoo. They were so ready to rip her to shreds.
…
They realize they’re studying you again. You don’t notice because you’re working through the test.
Right. Everyone’s started already.
And ten minutes have gone by, their test white as snow. They haven’t even put their name.
Eh, they’ll be fine.
~*•*~
They pretty much finished their test in under an hour.
They don’t bother looking over anything, because that’s way beyond their energy levels right now (and all the time), so they prepare to hand it in.
Berdly’s been triple-checking his answers, mumbling so loud Susie told him to shut up. Noelle’s just about finished, too. They can’t really see Susie from here, but she seems ready to hand in whatever she has and go home early.
But you? You’re stressed.
You’ve skipped half the questions, now working your way back through the ones that gave you trouble. They don’t blame you; some of the multiple choices were horribly worded. Nothing new, though.
Now you’re just blankly scanning your page, reading the words but not really reading them.
They’re fondling with the pencil in their hand. The one you gave them. It’s technically theirs, but it feels different now. Just knowing you’ve touched it makes them shiver.
…
They’re tapping the pencil on their desk before they realize they’re doing it.
It’s not exactly quiet, as the sounds of lead scraping on paper and pages being flipped kinda drowns it out. But you notice. You always notice.
They like how much you notice.
Your head hangs low as you offer them a quivering smile, almost saying 'I’m doomed'.
One glance at a semi-busy Alphys makes up their mind.
They’re holding up a finger. You seem confused.
They phantom-write the letter B on their desk.
Your eyes widen. It clicks.
Yeah, they’ve been caught cheating with Susie, but they’ve also gotten away with it more often than not. Can’t be persecuted for the crime if you’re not caught, right?
You both follow the same pattern for the next ten minutes. You erase some of your circles to replace them with Kris’ answers. They wish they could tell you to not put that much faith into them. But from the gleaming look in your eyes, they wouldn’t have the heart to tell you so.
The written application questions are harder. At that point, they just lend you their calculator (disguised as friendly borrowing) with the answer displayed on the screen. You’re not stupid, you know the steps and the process to getting the right answer. They know that.
Which is why they can’t help but break out into a toothless grin when your face lights up from getting a matching answer.
It’s probably not great to make you rely on them like this, but they can’t deny it makes them feel almost guiltily good.
They stay with you until the bell rings, half the class already gone.
They make sure to hand theirs in first – a minute or so ahead – to quell any suspicions Alphys might have.
All she does is give Kris her signature nervous grin and they leave, not sparing a single moment. The front doors funnel out the rest of the students. They let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.
They barely realize you’re sprinting after them until they’re outside near the bike racks.
You seem to still be running on adrenaline from the way you jump right into conversation.
“Oh my God, holy shit thankyousomuch. You don’t understand how unbelievably screwed I would’ve been if you didn’t– I would’ve aimed for a fifty, max. Passing would’ve been a luxury! I’ve just been really– out of it–”
They can’t help but ask. “Berdly being a pain in the ass?”
You’re over explaining, but they’d never stop you. “Surprisingly, no– well, not more than usual, hehe. I’ve just been tuning him out for some reason. I never used to do it– well, not this much. He’s just been too much for my brain to handle, y’know, ‘cause I’ve been spending so much time–”
You halt, face twitching. Their heart squeezes.
“–with. Things.”
They’re definitely looking at you like you’re the most precious thing they’ve ever seen. You can’t seem to tell.
You tilt your head curiously. They realize you’re waiting for them to say something.
Their mouth is moving before they can stop it.
“If you ever need a break from Berdly, I could…”
They trail off. Unintentionally. Accidentally. They’re too busy glancing at your lips.
But you get the jest.
You’re hopping from foot to foot. “You would?– Actually, yeah. That’d be– yeah. Great, I mean. After all that, I think I’d trust you more tenfold… I’d really like that, Kris.”
…
They’ve decided they love the sound of their name on your tongue.
~*•*~
“I was actually about to go to the diner. Grab a quick bite, probably start studying for the next test. Y’know, better safe than sorry,” you start to hesitate, fiddling with your fingers. “Would you… wanna come?”
You realize they’ve processed half the things you’ve said, with the oddest expression on their face.
“Yeah,” they sigh. “That sounds good.”
It’s almost…
Like–
They’re looking at you like they’re looking at nothing but you.
…
That’s what that is.
Is that how you look? When you look at them?
Wow, you…
You kinda look like an idiot.
In the cutest, most adorable way.
…
You’re also a liar. You weren’t supposed to go to the diner. You were supposed to meet Berdly in the library for another impromptu study session.
But he’s been torturing you inadvertently for the past few years, he can wait a few hours.
He can wait.