Work Text:
Lance Crown walked across Easton High’s campus, headed to his next class. The air outside was crisp, and he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He glanced up at the sky, seeing clouds beginning to roll in. Looked like some rain soon. Perfect weather for staying indoors and reading a book.
If he ignored his roommate talking his ear off, it would’ve been a great start to Lance’s day.
“And she didn’t even show up!” Dot Barrett finished angrily. “How cruel can you get?”
“I’d be more surprised if she did show up.” Lance deadpanned.
“Oi!” Dot growled, grabbing a fistful of Lance’s hoodie sleeve. “I’ll murder you a hundred times!”
Lance payed no attention and continued walking.
This was how every day was with his idiot of a roomate. They bickered every day, sometimes over literally nothing. Maybe if Dot didn’t have such a bad case of Main Character Syndrome and permanently shut up, they could learn to coexist without wanting to kill each other.
Lance set his bag on the large shared desk of his Language Arts classroom. Dot took the seat beside Lance, still cursing the other boy out.
“Settle down,” a sharp voice interrupted. The professor of the class, Orter Madl, adjusted his circular glasses and glared directly at Lance and Dot, who went quiet immediately.
“I’m assigning a partner project,” Orter announced. He looked bored, like he didn’t want to be teaching. “This is different from what I usually assign, but there’s only one prompt.”
He grabbed a black marker, scribbling two words on the whiteboard.
“Define love.”
…
Seriously?
What kind of sappy prompt is this? the class wondered in unison.
Lance narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He heard the surprised eh?’s and saw other students exchanging glances. Valentine’s Day was months away. Still, Professor Orter would never assign things like this.
“Although the assignment may sound simple, I will be grading based off how much thought and effort is put into it.”
Definitely seemed easy enough to Lance. He rested his eyes for a moment, still wondering how feelings of love could be related to Language Arts. Maybe someone was impersonating Orter and giving the students an easy assignment.
“A typed essay is required, with a minimum of three pages. This will be due in 10 days.”
There it is; Orter’s signature overload of work. He ignored the chorus of groans and complaints from the students.
Lance glanced over at Dot, who looked slightly defeated. Probably because he just got stood up on his last date.
As long as I’m not with this hopeless romantic, I should be fine, Lance thought.
“Your partner will be the classmate sitting next to you.”
Just his luck. He clicked his tongue, feeling a pair of red eyes glaring menacingly at him.
“I would like both partners to write the essay together, rather than splitting up the work,” the teacher continued. “I will be able to tell if one partner is—“
“Ah, excuse me.” Mash Burnedead raised his hand. “Why are we even partnering up? Anyone can write an essay on their own.”
Orter’s eye twitched as he looked disapprovingly at the student. “Having a partner will help you to better understand the prompt and collaborate with each other.” And because I said so, Orter looked like he wanted to say.
Finn Ames, who was seated next to Mash, looked worried that the professor had already given them a failing mark before the assignment even started. Everyone knew Orter heavily disliked Mash.
The professor let the students know to email him if there were any questions before beginning a different lecture.
The rest of the day went on normally for Lance. He didn’t waste any energy on unnecessary things, like thinking about girls or whatever Dot did in his free time. Lance had a specific routine that he followed. He studied hard every day, so that one day he’ll achieve his goal of becoming a doctor and cure his little sister’s illness.
Being his grade’s top student was just a bonus.
After all classes were finished for the day, Lance headed back to his dorm room, placing his bag on his desk. He changed out of his uniform into a T-shirt and shorts before sitting on his bed and opening a book.
He was about half a page in before his stupid roomate burst through the door.
“Oi, siscon.” Dot dropped his school bag on the ground. “Let’s start the project early. It can’t be that hard.”
Lance shut his book in annoyance. “Fine,” he said, making his way over to Dot’s side of the room.
“Orter barely gave us any instruction besides the prompt,” Dot muttered, opening a new document on his laptop.
“All we have to do is define love in three pages of writing,” Lance replied. Then he glared at Dot. “Your definition of love better not be something stupid.”
“I would never!” Dot yelled. He suddenly grinned. “To me, love is that feeling I get whenever I see cute girls! It’s the warmth and happiness I feel whenever Lemon is around—“
“Shut up,” Lance interrupted.
“You shut up!” Dot cried. “What is love to you then, huh?”
The blue haired boy’s annoyed expression turned into a peaceful smile. There was only one thing that came to Lance’s mind when he thought of love.
“Love is… my little sister.”
“That makes no sense!” Dot yelled.
“I could write an entire book series on how much I love Anna,” Lance continued. “This is genuine love, unlike your stupid fantasies.”
The redhead growled. “Are you shitting me? Your meaning of love is worse than mine.” He ran his hands through his hair and groaned. “Why’d I have to get stuck with such a shitty partner?”
“Do you wanna work on this or not?” Lance snapped, rubbing his temple.
“Yeah, but your definition of love is stupid!”
“Yours is even worse!”
“Die 100 times!” Dot shouted. “I changed my mind! I don’t wanna do this shit right now!” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Lance glared at the door. “Why even bother asking me in the first place.” He sighed. Whatever. He was too tired to deal with Dot’s explosive behavior anyways.
10 days until the deadline.
-
Lance didn’t get the chance to bring up the essay again after that day. Or more like, he didn’t care and didn’t want to talk to Dot.
He didn’t really see Dot much after that day, either. Of course, it didn’t affect Lance at all. In fact, he was grateful for some peace and quiet.
Like clockwork, he continued with his daily routines and studies. Three days passed until he thought of Orter’s essay again.
What is love? Lance wondered as he sat in the library. He closed his chemistry textbook, putting his finished homework in his bag. Whenever he thought of love, he thought of Anna. His little sister was undoubtedly his sole reason to live.
He didn’t want to write about his sister for a school essay, though. Professor Orter wasn’t worthy of knowing how great Anna was.
Lance adjusted his earbuds and glanced down at his phone. He scrolled through his playlist of classical music and clicked on a random song. Classical music always helped him focus while doing schoolwork.
The song playing sounded familiar. It almost lulled him to sleep. Maybe Dot played this one on the violin before, he thought idly. Dot’s violin playing always—
Why was Lance even thinking about that stupid bastard anyway?
He walked up the stairs to the on-campus dorm buildings, exhaling heavily. Lance could see his own breath in the air. The temperature dropped significantly at night. He shivered and unlocked the door, putting his belongings on his desk. Same thing every day.
It was close to 11 pm, and Dot still wasn’t back. Maybe he was out with a girl or something. Lance rolled his eyes at the thought.
A small brown bag sitting on the desk caught his eye. Slightly curious, he opened it to reveal a tea bag and a note.
“You look like shit. Stop drinking caffeine.”
Lance let out a small noise that could almost be a laugh. What the hell? How did Dot even know Lance was running on caffeine?
He pulled out the tea bag and went to his small kitchen to boil some water.
This is nice. The tea really helpsd Lance relax, and he felt about ready to go into hibernation. He began his nightly routine, changing into sleepwear and brushing his teeth. He fell asleep quicker than usual, dreaming of tea and a certain red haired boy.
7 days until the deadline.
-
Wake up. Get ready. Eat. Go to class. Do homework. Call Anna. Study. Eat dinner (optional). Study again. Sleep (also optional).
That was Lance’s schedule for the next few days, as it had been for a while. He walked back from the library, yawning. It was a stupid game; he’d fight off the sleep during the day with caffeine, but when it came time to sleep, he was wide awake.
The insomnia was a part of him now, following him everywhere he went. He almost wished he had another chamomile tea packet. Maybe he could ask Dot for another one. Or maybe Dot would leave it on Lance’s desk. Or maybe—
Damnit. Anything Lance did, Dot always managed to infiltrate his thoughts. It was getting quite annoying.
But somehow, Lance found that he was beginning to miss the redhead’s company.
Huh?
When did Lance start feeling—
“Ah. It’s Lance.” A familiar monotone voice approached him. It was Mash, with Finn following close behind.
“What are you guys doing here so late?” Lance asked.
“We could ask you the same,” Finn replied with a smile. “We finally finished Orter’s essay.”
“How’s yours going?” Mash questioned.
Lance grunted, feeling irritation rise up. “Take a guess.”
“Yikes...” Mash pulled a cream puff out of his pocket, offering his condolences to Lance. The blue haired boy politely declined, allowing Mash to eat it instead.
“If you need ideas, just write about cream puffs like I did.” Mash ate the dessert in one large bite. “Or your little sister, I guess.”
“Er, I had to remove the cream puff part from our essay,” Finn explained. “But really, if you guys need help, feel free to ask us!”
Lance nodded as a thanks and parted ways with the two. Why couldn’t he have been paired up with someone normal?
His train of thoughts from earlier continued. Maybe it was the chamomile tea from last night. It messed with Lance’s brain. Dot probably poisoned it to make Lance feel things he usually wouldn’t. He definitely didn’t feel this way about Dot before he drank that tea.
It wasn’t unusual for Dot to give away tea bags. Heck, the guy had a whole cabinet just for tea bags. It was Dot’s prized collection. What bothered Lance was how his roommate noticed how tired he was.
Maybe Lance really did look tired. He stepped inside his dorm room, heading straight to the bathroom. Yeah, that was it. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face was stuck in a permanent frown. Anyone could guess he had a shitty sleep schedule. Dot was just looking out for a friend, that was all.
Maybe deep down, it disappointed Lance a little bit.
But then he found another bag of tea, this time on his pillow. A note laid next to the tea bag, slightly crumpled, like it had almost been thrown away instead.
“Eye bags are not a good look on you, pretty boy.”
His face felt warm for some reason. Lance made his tea again, suddenly feeling a little guilty. Should he be doing something for Dot, too? What could Lance even do for his roommate…
The boy looked over at Dot’s side of the room. The redhead’s bag was tossed haphazardly onto the ground, papers and pens scattered everywhere.
So messy. Lance decided in the moment to clean Dot’s stuff up a little, as a thanks for the tea. He just didn’t want to owe the bastard any favors or anything like that.
He walked across the room and crouched down. He collected the pens, stowing them into the side pocket, before grabbing the papers and stacking them neatly.
Candy wrappers and eraser dust littered the inside of Dot’s bag. It was horrendous. How does Dot live like this? Lance stood up and emptied it over the trash can, making sure none of the pens fell out. Satisfied, he then put the papers in the now clean bag.
Oh? Lance picked up a crumpled piece of lined paper hiding in the very bottom corner. Must’ve missed this one. He noticed Dot’s chicken scratch handwriting all over the paper, with violent scribbles over some words. Lance uncrumpled the ball of paper, smoothing it out. At the top, it said, “Define love.”
That idiot started without me! Lance felt a prick of irritation. They were supposed to be working on it together!
His eyes scanned over the paper. There were a lot of erased or scribbled over words that he couldn’t make out. After seeing almost an entire page of crossed out words and angry writing, there was finally a legible sentence towards the bottom.
“Love is that stupid feeling I get whenever I see L—“
The door suddenly opened, and Lance flinched with surprise.
“Oi,” Dot grumbled. “Why are you going through my stuff?”
“I wasn’t,” Lance said. “I just saw your shit all over the floor, so I thought I’d clean it up. As a thanks for the tea.”
“Tch,” Dot clicked his tongue. “Well, thanks, I g—“ His eyes widened as his gaze landed on the paper Lance was holding.
“Don’t read that!” Dot lunged suddenly, tackling Lance to the ground.
Lance’s head hit the ground and he winced, screwing his eyes shut. “What the hell is your problem?” he yelled.
He opened his eyes to see Dot on top of him, hands caging either side of his head. The paper was smashed beneath one of Dot’s hands. Blue eyes stared at red, both boys stunned in silence. Was it always so hot in here?
“D-Don’t go through my stuff.” Dot finally mumbled, cheeks flushed. He then scrambled off of Lance and bolted out the door.
Lance sat up, speechless. What the hell just happened? He knew what the paper was going to say anyways.
Love is that stupid feeling I get whenever I see Lemon.
Why was Dot so upset about Lance reading a love confession about Lemon?
…Why did Lance feel hurt by it?
He pushed the thoughts out of his head, standing back up. His tea was lukewarm now, but he drank it anyways, ignoring the dull throbbing on the back of his head.
4 days until the deadline.
-
Since that incident in the dorm, Dot avoided Lance like the plague. The due date was creeping up on them, but Lance didn’t care. So what if Dot didn’t want to work on the stupid assignment together? Lance will just do it on his own. Orter probably wouldn’t care anyways.
Lance was at the library yet again, just finishing his studies for math class. He packed up and walked out the double glass doors, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
He looked at his phone. 9:57 pm. It wasn’t that late, especially for a Friday night. Maybe he could catch Dot at their dorm…
“Hey, have you done Orter’s essay yet?” A voice sounded from an empty hallway next to the library. Lance recognized that voice; it belonged to another guy in his class.
“Yeah, but me and my partner completely bullshitted it,” another voice said — Classmate B. “What a stupid project.”
A third person laughed. “I can’t believe he even assigned something like that,” Classmate C said. “So unlike him.”
Lance grew uninterested. These guys were known for starting fights and causing trouble, so he’d rather stay out of it. The conversation didn’t even involve him.
He was about to walk away until he heard Classmate A say, “I bet that Dot Barrett is having a real good time with the essay.”
“Oh man,” Classmate B cackled. “Did you hear? Last week, he embarrassed himself so badly in front of a group of girls.”
“He’s so desperate it’s funny,” Classmate C added. “I feel sorry for Lance. I’m sure Dot just fantasizes about girls all day that he’ll never get in real life.”
Walk away. Lance turned in the opposite direction.
“What a pathetic bastard,” Classmate A said.
Walk away.
“He doesn’t deserve to have Lance Crown as his partner.”
Walk. Away.
“Take it back.” Lance’s brain didn’t catch up with his mouth. When did he even approach those guys?
“Excuse me?” Classmate A sneered, spinning around. “Oh, it’s just you, Crown. Why do you even care what we say about Barrett?”
“Yeah, you’re better than him anyways.” Classmate C shrugged.
“I don’t care,” Lance snapped. “Take. It. Back.” His own voice was so full of venom he almost didn’t recognize himself.
“Take what back, that he’s a pathetic little bitch?” Classmate B grinned. “It’s true, though.”
“Just walk away, Crown.” Classmate A took a dangerous step forward. “I know your little pretty ass doesn’t have time for—“
Lance dropped his bag on the ground, raised his fist, and punched the guy square in the face. The blue haired boy didn’t even think about how disappointed his little sister would be for starting a fight. All he could feel was pure anger.
“You wanna fucking go?” Classmate B swung his arm. Lance swiftly dodged, landing a hit on the bastard in the stomach.
He knew. Lance knew he wouldn’t walk away from this fight unharmed. His anger gave him adrenaline, but he was outnumbered. Lance felt two of the guys grabbing his wrists and pinning them behind his back, while the third guy hit him in the stomach over and over.
Why am I doing this? Lance wondered as he kicked one of the guys in the shin, receiving a hard hit on his head.
He only ever got into fights for his sister, when people made fun of her illness. Lance never fought for anyone else.
Because there was no one else in his life besides Anna.
Maybe his little sister wasn’t his only reason to live.
Despite everything, despite all of Dot’s annoying antics, Lance truly didn’t hate him. In fact, there was no one else Lance could call his best friend.
The guys threw Lance on the ground. He could barely breathe, barely feel anything except for pain. He staggered forward, reaching for his bag, but failed and landed on his side. I can’t fucking move. He willed for his arms and legs to work.
“Lance?” Who was that? It sounded so far away. Distant footsteps broke out into a panicked sprint.
“Lance!” The unknown person ran over to the injured boy, quickly crouching down. Black and yellow bangs with freckles came into Lance’s blurry view.
“Finn..?” Lance mumbled.
Finn’s hands hovered over Lance, like he wanted to help but was unsure what to do.
“W-What happened to you?”
Lance groaned. “These guys were… talking badly about… Dot.” Finn’s eyes widened. “So I… punched them.”
“Okay, just hang in there!” Finn whipped his head around frantically. Lance didn’t know what he was looking for, but then Finn cursed and scrambled to pull his phone out of his bag.
“Shit shit shit, the nurse’s office is closed.” Finn’s words came tumbling out, and tears threatened to spill over his eyes. “Okay. I’m going to call Mash and he’ll… No no no don’t close your eyes…”
Lance couldn’t hear anything else. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision, and the last thing he remembered was seeing watery yellow eyes before blacking out.
2 days until the deadline.
-
12 hours until the deadline.
Lance woke up surrounded by Anna plushies, changed into fresh clothes, and covered in bandaids and gauze. He grimaced in pain as he sat up, looking around in a dazed state.
The clock read 12:01 pm. When did I even fall asleep? He rubbed his eyes in confusion. Then he glanced at the date.
He had slept for an entire day.
The memories came flooding back to Lance. He had passed out after fighting those guys two nights ago. Right.
That’s when he saw Dot, sitting on the ground by the bed. His head rested uncomfortably at the edge of the mattress, red hair splayed in every direction. Dot’s signature headband was tossed near the door along with his school bag. His hand rested loosely on top of Lance’s.
Lance huffed, lips twitching in amusement. Dot’s fingers were warm. He looked so peaceful like this, so unlike his usual angry demeanor.
Cute.
Wait, huh? Dot was not cute at all. Why would Lance…
The realization hit him with the force of a truck.
“Hm?” Dot opened his eyes and lifted his head. He blinked at Lance and suddenly yelled, “You fucking idiot!”
“Wha—“
“What were you even thinking?” Dot exploded, standing up and towering over Lance. “Why’re you going around starting fights with the fucking thugs of this school, hah?”
“I—“
“Do you even know how worried I was when Finn came to me in tears, explaining what had happened?” The redhead continued. “When Mash came back here carrying you Friday night, I thought you were dead! And you slept through all of—”
“Shut up!” Lance hissed. “Stop yelling. It’s hurting my head.”
“Sorry,” Dot muttered. He took a breath to calm down. “Apparently, Mash had a cabinet full of first aid equipment and fixed you up in his and Finn’s dorm. Then they brought you here.”
“I see.” Lance needed to thank Mash and Finn later.
Moments of silence passed. Dot looked like he wanted to say something, but kept changing his mind. Lance could practically see the internal battle the other boy was having.
“Finn also told me why you got into the fight,” Dot finally broke the silence.
Shit. Lance had forgotten that he told Finn the cause of the fight.
“Why would you even do that? I thought you hated me.”
Lance couldn’t bring himself to say it. “It’s because…” The words were caught in his throat.
Because you’re important to me.
Fuck it all. He was never good at using his words anyway. Instead, Lance grabbed Dot by the front of his shirt, pulling the redhead down on top of him.
“What are you—!” Dot’s face burst into flames as he braced his hands on Lance’s shoulders.
Too close. Their faces were too close.
Lance left a fraction of space between them, giving Dot a chance to pull away.
But Dot closed the gap all too quickly. Feelings Lance had never felt before exploded inside him all at once.
Oh.
Oh.
Is this what love is?
Noticing little things. Giving gifts. Getting each other riled up for no reason. Fighting for one another. Hating each other until the end of time, but still sticking around.
This was Lance’s definition of love.
Lance pulled away first. He couldn’t control the small smile that formed when he saw Dot’s flustered state. Face as red as his hair, pupils blown wide. Lance could feel Dot’s pulse racing as fast as his own.
“So,” the blue haired boy whispered. “Wanna write that essay soon?”
“Way to ruin the mood, dumbass!” Dot cried.
“Shut up. It’s literally due at midnight.”
“We just kissed and that’s the first thing you say afterwards? You shut up!”
Lance grabbed Dot’s face with one hand. “Make me.”
On the ground beside Lance’s bed was an unfolded piece of lined paper.
“Love is that stupid feeling I get whenever I see Lance.”
Bonus:
“It’s not like you to give your students an essay prompt like that,” Kaldo said to Orter in the teacher’s room.
“And I’ll never do it again.” Orter skimmed through another mediocre essay. 50/100 points. “I lost a bet with Ryoh. He was curious to see how my students would respond to this assignment.”
The next online essay belonged to Dot and Lance, submitted ten minutes before the due date. A spark of interest lit in Orter’s eyes. Lance and Dot, his top pupils, almost late to submit an essay?
He read over the three pages and deemed their essay less horrible than the rest. But there was one last sentence in a small font at the bottom of the page.
“Thanks for bringing us together.”
Orter narrowed his eyes and inputted the grade.
Bonus part 2:
“You idiot!” Lance yelled, staring at their graded essay in horror the next day. 85/100 — last sentence was not in MLA format.
“I told you not to put that note at the end!” He whacked Dot on the head.
Dot grinned. “But wasn’t it worth it all in the end?”
For once in his life, Lance agreed.