Chapter Text
High school is as exciting as it is stressful. Anders’ classes are all seperate now, and it takes him the first week to memorize where all the classrooms are, plus the names of his teachers. Thankfully, Anders shares most of his classes with Hawke and others with Isabela and Varric so he’s not completely alone. He also has algebra with Aveline but frankly, she still kind of scares him.
Anders jogs to his locker when the bell rings, having only three minutes to fetch his biology book and to get to his class, all the way at the end of the second floor corridor. He scrambles for his locker combination when an arm snakes itself around his waist.
“Hey, Anders.”
“Hey, Isabela.” Anders doesn’t even need to turn around. He sighs and then says, “Yes, you can borrow my Algebra textbook.”
“Thanks, sweetie, I knew I can count on you.” Isabela presses herself tighter to Anders’ back.
“Ugh, when are you going to get your own book?” Anders elbows her in an attempt to free himself thought that only makes her cling tighter, like an octopus.
Instead of answering, Isabela blows into his ears.
Anders is about to tell Isabela off when someone else says, “Hey, Anders.”
Anders turns around so fast that he accidentally slams Isabela into his locker.
“Hey!” Isabela squawks indignantly.
Karl is wearing a plain purple shirt today, with his backpack slung over one shoulder. There is a girl next to Karl, looking curiously at Anders and Isabela. She has an armful of books and gorgeous black curls that spill down her shoulder. Another senior, Anders assumes. Karl raises one eyebrow at him and Anders laughs nervously
“Hi, Karl,” Anders says, suddenly aware of how his voice breaks when he says Karl’s name.
“Everything okay?” Karl asks.
“Yeah, you know…” Anders makes a vague hand gesture, unable to think of a clever response. His blood runs warm when Karl smiles indulgently.
“Sure,” Karl says, “I’ll see you after school today?”
“Yes!” Anders answers a bit too fast. He clears his throat. “I mean, sure.” Isabela sniggers not so quietly. The senior girl rolls her eyes and Anders winces.
But Karl gives him another smile and a pat on his shoulder. He waves at Anders before walking off with the girl. Karl bends his head to say something to her, he looks good in those jeans-
“Ow!” Anders shouts when Isabela elbows him sharply in his side.
“That was for before,” she says, reaching behind him to pluck his textbook out of his locker, “And who was that? He was cute.”
“Karl,” Anders replies, rubbing his side, “he’s a friend.”
“Uh huh,” Isabela raises her eyebrows and Anders wishes that people would stop doing that. “Just a friend?”
“Yes!” Anders says, fighting the blush that’s creeping into his face.
Just then the bell rings, loud and clear.
“Shit!” Anders swears, slamming his locker shut, “I’ll see you at lunch!” He shouts as he runs towards his biology class. Isabela shouts something at him but he doesn’t hear it.
A few hours later, Anders is frowning at his soggy fries when Isabela leans over the lunch table conspiratorially. “So, our Andy boy here as a crush.” She says in a sing-songy voice.
“What?” Anders drops the fry he was bringing to his mouth, “I do not!”
“Yes you do.” Hawke replies, stealing a fry off of Anders’ tray.
“As if you’re not mooning over that new kid!” Anders points at the white-haired elf sitting alone in the corner of the cafeteria.
“Hey!” Hawke yells. Anders ignores him and swings his finger around to Isabela.
“And you’ve just lost your book borrowing privileges.”
Isabela shrugs. “Worth it,” she says to Varric.
“But seriously, Rivani, everyone already knows.” Varric tells her, head still bent over his notebook where he’s been scribbling something for the entire lunch period.
“What?”
“How come I’m the last one to find out?” Isabela and Anders says at the same time.
Varric finally looks up and rolls his eyes at the both of them. “You gotta be blind to not see the way Anders look at Karl.”
Anders’ face is completely red by now, he knows even without looking at a mirror. He groans and drops his face into his hands.
“Told ya,” Hawke adds, unhelpfully.
“Why don’t you just go, Garrett.” Anders mumbles from under his hands.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Hawke says cheerfully before popping the last of Anders’ fries into his mouth. He walks off to talk to the new kid, like he’s done for the last two weeks. Isabela pats Anders sympathetically on the back.
“Don’t worry, hon, Izzy’s got your back.”
Anders hates his friends sometimes.
The next week or so is maybe the most embarrassing days of Anders’ life, save for perhaps the time Hawke accidentally pulled down Anders’ pants in front of the entire second grade class, years ago. At least the Great Pants Incident of Second Grade has been blurred with the passage of time- Anders thinks that he might remember Isabela’s Crush Intervention until the end of his life.
Isabela’s intervention isn’t anything special, Anders thinks, maybe she’s read a little too much Cosmos. Most of it is a random collection of fashion advices that Anders takes only half seriously (though admittedly, teal is a good match for his complexion), and ideas on how to confess his undying love to Karl, which Anders ignores completely. Those, by themselves, aren’t so bad, if Isabela doesn’t also try to “make Karl jealous” by doing a very successful imitation of a voluptuous, giggly leech whenever Karl is near.
“Isabela, you need to really stop.” Anders tells her firmly for the fifth time. She pouts and detaches herself from Anders’ arm, craning her neck around the corner to watch Karl walk away.
“He really knows how to pick his jeans.” Isabela whistles.
“I know.” Anders groans before he can stop himself. The grin that Isabela gives him can only be described as lecherous.
“So, when are you going to tell him?” She asks, poking him on the arm.
“I’m not going to tell him.” Anders answers, swatting her finger away.
“And why not?”
“Because he’s a senior, if you haven’t noticed,” Anders shoves his books into his locker a little harder than necessary. “And I’m just a freshman whose voice still cracks.”
“Aw, Anders, don’t say that, I think your voice is adorable.”
“Yeah, well, so does Karl.” Anders says glumly. Karl had ruffled Anders’ hair after he had told Anders that. Anders had never felt more like someone’s little brother then, wondering if that was why Carver was so bratty all the time.
“Besides,” Anders sighs, “I think he likes that girl he hangs out with all the time.”
“Oh, you mean the one with the curly black hair?” Isabela says, “she’s gorgeous.”
“Gee, thanks.” Anders says sarcastically. He reaches into his locker, taking out his notebooks out one by one. He hands his algebra textbook to Isabela without a word.
“Hey.” Isabela takes his book, voice serious. She puts one hand on his arm comfortingly.
“Yeah?”
“Sometimes, her eyeliner is crooked.”
Anders slams his locker shut.
That afternoon, Anders gets a text from Karl. The little buzz of his phone almost gets lost in the sounds of the rain pelting on the windows, the distant rumble of thunder. He’s forgotten his umbrella too.
Hey, do you need a ride today? The text reads.
if u r offering :P Anders text back quickly, before his teacher, or Aveline can see.
And if I’m not?
then ill have to walk home in this thunderstorm :(
Aw poor you
ill get pneumonia and die!! is that what u want karl? Next to him, Aveline gives Anders a pointed cough. He smiles sheepishly at her though he doesn’t stop checking his phone when it buzzes again.
I can never live without your charming self in my life ;)
Anders knows that his face looks really stupid right now, or at least his grin is. Anders tells himself that Karl is only joking but he can’t help the tingling warmth that rushes to his toes when he reads the text.
Aveline elbows him, and then points to the front of the classroom where the teacher is giving Anders a stinkeye. Anders hastily pockets his phone, but not before seeing another text from Karl.
I’ll see you after school.
Karl’s car is sort of like Karl himself. It’s sleek and silver, new-looking, not because it’s fresh off the lot but because Karl takes good care of it. The inside is clean, with only a few academic texts with broken spines scattered in the backseat. A pine-scented car freshener dangles on the rearview mirror, the only decoration in the car, save for the Kinloch Uni bumper sticker that came with his early acceptance letter.
Despite its outer appearance of cleanliness, Anders knows that Karl’s car is just a carefully controlled chaotic mess. Once Anders made the mistake of opening his glove compartment, making all the receipts and napkins and who knows what else junk to come spilling out into the front seat. Anders also suspects that Karl has helped himself to all the old books the library has thrown away and stashed them in the trunk of his car. It makes his car smell perpetually like musty paper and ink, despite Karl’s feeble attempts at masking the smell with pine air fresheners.
The smell is particularly pungent on rainy days like today.
“So,” Karl says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“What’s up?” Anders asks, trying to wring water out of his ponytail. The rain is coming down hard, drumming on the roof of Karl’s car.
“That girl that you hang out with, she, uh, seems nice.”
“Ah, yeah, that’s Isabela.”
“Uhm, are you two…” Karl trails off and Anders nearly pulls off his own hair in shock.
“What?” Anders chokes, “No, no, not at all, she just likes to be clingy.” Anders is going to kill Isabela the next time he sees her.
“Ah, I thought so,” Karl says, throwing Anders a brief smile before turning his eyes to the road again. Anders feels his face become inflamed. Silence falls save for the near violent sounds of the rain and the constant rhythms of the car’s wipers squeaking away. A group of kids run in front of the car to try and beat the red light, sneakers splashing, laughter muted in the dry comfort of Karl’s car.
Karl hums half a tune, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
“Anders,” Karl says, after a beat.
“Yeah?” Anders voice breaks into a squeak. He clears his throat.
Karl sighs, his eyebrows furrowing into a slight frown. He scratches his chin where he’s growing a slight scruff there, like he’s a little bit embarrassed.
“Listen, Anders,” Karl starts again and Anders looks at him, wondering what Karl is trying to say.
“You know I’m a senior this year, right?” Karl says and Anders nods. “And I’ll be going to college soon.”
“I know, Karl.” And Anders won’t even see him after school because Karl will be at Kinloch Uni that’s hours and hours away even by car. Anders is painfully aware of this, has stayed up late at night because of the sinking pit in his stomach.
Karl turns to look at Anders when they come to the next red light. He’s still frowning, but it looks sad now, the shadows of raindrops rolling down the windshield cast onto his face.
“I know,” Karl pauses, swallows, “I know that you’re, ah, fond of me.”
Anders looks quickly away. Of course he would know, Anders thinks, Karl would have to be a damn idiot to not notice. Anders is so stupid.
“Mhm,” Anders hums, not trusting his own voice to speak.
“And,... Anders,” Karl’s voice is softer now.
“No, I get it,” Anders interrupts him. He looks out to the right, focusing on the rivulets of rain running down the glass. “I really do, Karl.”
“It’s just that I’m three years older than you, Anders.” And Anders hates how sympathetic Karl sounds, his tone soft and so kind, how very much like Karl.
“I know.” Anders says, quietly.
“I’m sorry.” Karl says though Ander can’t imagine why. It was a stupid crush anyway, nothing was going to come out of it.
“We’re here.” Karl says as he pulls into the empty driveway of Anders’ house.
Anders steps out of Karl’s car, the smell of old books replaced with the sharp smell of rain and wet mud, the constant underlying smell of salt from the harbor. Karl shoots Anders a last, sad smile before he rolls out, driving away in his small, silver car.
Anders doesn’t go inside for a bit, not caring that he is getting soaked from the rain. He doesn’t want to deal with his father, undoubtedly passed out in front of the couch again, not right now, not yet. Anders walks up to his old creaky porch and sits on the bench there, spotty with mold.
The sky is as gray and miserable as Anders feels.