What's Not To Like?

He didn’t smile at Ben at first, but he breathed out and felt a lot of his anxiety melt away. “Normal,” he replied, placing his ‘lunch’ on the table and sliding Ben’s notebook over to him. “sorry about all the writing and doodles.” he rolled his eyes, smirking lightly. “Had to do something to ignore everyone.” he paused, grabbing his lunch and opening it. “What about you?” He didn’t look at him as he bit into the bar, examining it awkwardly. His notes were more organized this time. "Please don’t call me that, I might have to cut you. Unless you want me to start calling you Benny Boo, and I think we can both agree that it totally does not suit you. So let’s stick to names that are fine and at the least, borderline straight. As mentioned before, Coach Callen is a close friend of my dad. Well, family friend, whatever. My dad’s in special forces, so he’s away from home a lot. Callen has had to babysit me a lot before, and yeah, it really sucks. Don’t ever let him come over to your house, it’s a nightmare. I’d love to, and I do own one. But it might be a while, I have to convince my dad I have a friend first so he doesn’t think I’m sneaking out or something. I also have to convince him I’m stable enough…so, yeah.” The next page consisted of very intricate designs of swirls that resembled smoke and blood splatter, with the words “kill me” in small text in the middle, with a small silly looking crying face. Travis swallowed, shrugging as he mentally told himself the bar was safe enough to continue eating. It wasn’t great, it tasted a little stale, but it wasn’t horrid. He chanced looking over at Ben, but it was quick. Callen frowned and narrowed his eyes, not even bothering to look at his coworker. He sighed. “It’s all fine. I think he made a friend.” his features fell into something sorrowful, but he didn’t look over to let him see. Instead, he looked down the line, waiting.  He looked over at the ginger with a stern expression, breathing out. He tried not to be self conscious, but he looked down, grunting and shaking his head as he reached down his shirt, pulling out his stupid ID. “Whatever.” he said, not putting his hands on the tray. “Maybe we just have our minds elsewhere, David.” he sighed again, grabbing his tray and sliding it, making a lot of noise with his jerky movements. He had to place a hand on his chest to avoid frustrating himself with the sound of his few neck accessories.

"Are you having a good day? You're seeming a bit...stiff. Nerves about baby Wakely?" David looked more serious, grabbing some pizza and glancing up at Callen, knowing that he was going to judge him. "...you should try pizza some time. Its so much better than leaves." He laughed nervously, sliding the pizza onto his tray.

Beloved, by Toni Morrison Reasons: Sexually explicit, religious viewpoint, violence

"So, Corndog, I see you’ve met my son." Travis grunted again. "It’s good to see him socializing." he looked to Travis so fondly he felt like he was going to puke. "Oh, I’ll take him to his classes, don’t worry about it." he went to grab Travis again and he was having none of that this time. "Ugh, get away from me!" he ducked and ran around him, quickly getting to his locker. Callen threw his arms out. “Why don’t you love me anymore!?” he huffed loudly, turning around to Ben and laughed lightly. “You need to show more backbone in the Gym, hotdog—” Travis pushed him, albeit lightly, but gave him a glare that made him back off. He raised his hands in defense. Travis sighed. “Please.” he paused. “I don’t want to spend more time with him if I can help it.” he smiled crookedly, avoiding eye contact. When they were away from him, he grimaced. “He’s not my dad, by the way. He is a real idiot, though.” he looked up at him, adjusting his backpack and then messing with the paper in his hand. “He’s a friend of the family.” he sighed, slowing down a bit. “What class do you have next?” he bit his lip, feeling incredibly shy after all of that. — Travis didn’t have the best time in class after that. It was just as he expected it: boring as all hell and irritating above all else. He hated it. He sat there and listened to the teacher drone on, ignoring the hushed voices around him. He opened Ben’s notebook, reading over their earlier messages to calm himself down. He sighed lightly before writing down his reply, but he didn’t stop there. He wrote probably more than he intended, but he didn’t care. When he was done, he turned the page, and began to doodle absently. Someone nudged him, but he ignored it. More hushed voices, and something was thrown at him. He was almost in a hurry to leave, hearing the voices behind him call out. He let out a breath when he was out and Callen was standing outside. Only good thing about being friends with a school’s coach—he protected you. He walked up to him and made small talk as the classroom filed out, dispersing. His next class was a nightmare. And he did everything he could not to break down. The teacher—more than once, had to tell the other students to calm down, and once told him to keep his mouth shut for defending himself. At this point, the only thing keeping him from losing his temper was the small voice in his head telling him to make a good impression on Ben. He sighed as he wrote a small, garbled ‘kill me’ on the page full of doodles. He made his way to the cafeteria, ignoring everyone—including the punks who shoved him. He internally remembered their faces. They weren’t from any of his classes that he knew of. He sighed, immediately getting out of the way once he was in the large room. He found an empty table and made himself comfortable, pulling his legs up and crossing them. He put his bag to his side, pulling a few things out and putting them on the table, sighing again. He didn’t want to chance looking around, so he went to looking in his bag to see if he had brought any food with him.

"Coach." David, the stupid band/music teacher, nodded to Callen, sliding his tray up to his. He looked around, raising his eyebrows at the taller man. "How's everything been? You know, with that burden of yours?" He tapped his finger on his own tray, showing impatience as the lunch line grinded to a standstill. "Man, teachers have to learn to have their ID's ready. I mean, really, we've been paying this way for like two whole years." David rolled his eyes, catching Callen's eye as he grabbed the Staff/Faculty Id around his neck. He clicked his tongue, smiling and slightly sliding his tray into Callen's signalling him to move. "I'm prepared."

It’s getting colder and it’s only a matter of time before it snows here and ruins fall so have some happy cold gays in the snow.

He looked at the notebook and almost jumped when the bell rang. He grabbed the notebook and smiled, closing it almost immediately. He put his legs down, making a mental note to do it sooner in his next class. He sighed lightly, turning to Ben. He put the notebook under his arm as he stood up and held a hand out to shake Ben’s hand. "Great to meet you too, Ben. I’m not sure what class I have next," he shrugged lightly, shifting in place. "so I’ll just hold onto this until later." he patted the item lightly. He trailed behind the rest of the class and looked around curiously. It was kind of hard to miss the toll blonde who had his arms crossed across the way. He waved meekly. "Hey, Callen." The guy smirked and walked up to Travis, placing a hand on his head and ruffling his hair, messing it up more than it already was. It took every ounce of self control he had to not fix it. “Hey, prick!” Travis frowned lightly, but the older man just smiled. “We’re working stuff out to see who’s gonna bring you home,” he paused, shifting his weight. “because you’re too incompetent to get home on your own.” Travis muttered a ‘thanks’ before brightening up—if that’s what you could call it—and asked him what his next class was. He was kind enough to have made him a list, complete with a sort of map and times. Travis smiled, sometimes this guy could be nice. He wasn’t, usually. Probably had to do with the incident, but right now, he really didn’t care.

“D-do you need me to help find where your classes are?” Ben stuttered, looking up at Travis and trying to ignore Coach. “I don’t mind…! I know where most the rooms are.” He smiled awkwardly, his fingertips nervously tapping his thigh—a tick he never realized he had.

Being a conductor is like being a wizard but way cooler. Some David love because I felt like it.

He tried not to notice the notepad at first, but paranoia and curiosity got the best of him, He was still upset, but he moved in his seat and adjusted the book in front of him as he read it over carefully. And just like that, he closed it, but kept him place with his hand. He bit his lip and looked away from Ben as much as he could, feeling his heartbeat quicken again. God, he felt like girls must do on their periods, except less pain. At least, that’s how his mom explained it. Ugh, and again making himself upset. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down, telling himself again that having any kind of panic attack on the first day was something he really didn’t need to do. If not for himself, for his dad because he would surely beat him if something happened. He breathed out and swore to himself, but not out loud. He definitely shuddered. Jesus, he was already embarrassing himself. He really hated himself right now, so he sighed, giving up and sitting back, wiping his face and bringing the notebook to himself. he opened it back up and started writing a reply. When he was done he handed it to Ben, avoiding eye contact and immediately trying to bring his legs up to cross them in his seat. "It’s fine. And yeah, you can call me Travs. All you’re doing is taking the i out, and it’s not cheesy. I like it. Well, I think you are cool. Honest people are pretty great in my books. Teachers are still people, they count. I should know, I’ve spent my whole life with one. (upset face) I don’t hate you. I don’t want to sound like a pansy, but I’m still really emotional. I don’t like being let down either. I’d love to be your friend, Ben.” When he successfully—painfully, got himself seated the way he wanted, he dared to look at Ben. But this time he didn’t just glance at him, he stared. He controlled himself and—jesus—yelled at himself for being such an idiot. All the recent events fucked him up. He huffed, but he didn’t look away.

“Uh, it was…nice to me—meet you?”

The only thing Shakespeare was a bad writer for was not making coherent sentences, and even then it was just ‘poetic’. Tragically poetic. He glanced back at Ben right when he looked at him, and felt a strong urge to look away. This was dumb, he thought to himself as he looked down at the desk. He huffed lightly, taking the notebook and reading it over. He let himself smile lightly but it was gone quickly. He took his pen back out and started writing. He was slow and bit his lip out of habit, but he handed it back to him when he was done. "You handled it, Sherlock. Shakespeare isn’t that great, but I couldn’t resist. My name’s Travis Wakely. If that doesn’t ring any bells, I’ll be surprised. I hope you understand why I feel reluctance to telling others my name. You seem like a pretty cool guy, despite how much you’re trying to insult me. Do you always introduce yourself differently based on first impressions?” His message was a bit all over the place, at least to him. He didn’t look back at Ben. He found a corner of the room was the best place to look right now. He slouched, and rested a hand on his cheek. He didn’t expect a reply, in all honesty. He wanted Ben to know, and now he did. Probably. He expected to be bullied or ridiculed…something, anything, like his father did constantly. All he could do was brace himself.

Ben sighed and watched Travis, his eyes scanning his features. He  couldn’t help but see anything but how cute he was, so he had to stop looking, sighing and falling a little in his seat. He crossed his arms and stared at the back of the head that was in front of him. He was upset, already assuming that Travis hated him.

After speaking with the asker a bit we decided on traditional japanese school uniforms :UU sorta. ANYWAY thank you darlin I had fun woo~

And he didn’t say anything, either. Instead, he looked forward, sitting up straight, and listened to the teacher drone on. His heart beat started to calm down, and he was thankful he was able to concentrate on his words. He gave the guy a weird look when he handed him his notebook, which he took, however hesitantly. He read it slowly, making sure he understood each word. It wasn’t every day someone tried to talk to him, even in middle school. He was really expecting this guy—Ben, apparently—was going to yell at him. Not quite, he got a couple facts right right off the bat, and it scared him. If he knew then the there was a high percentage that the other classmates did too. He sighed. Travis looked over at Ben and gave him an expression he wasn’t too sure of himself. Hurt, confusion, a little bit a disapproval. He didn’t know. He narrowed his eyes slightly at Ben’s words, looking forward and reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out one his dad’s fancy pens. He wrote very fluidly, but had to stop a few times, seemingly stretching his wrist. When he was done, he looked up and watched the teacher until there was an opening, then he slid the notebook back to it’s owner. In smaller text, and in black ink, it said the following under Ben’s message: "Better three morrow too late than a minute too soon. I haft arrived on time. Thou should know thine place, and keepeth to themselves; prying into other’s business tis quite knavish.” At first, he didn’t look at Ben, but he got curious, so he glanced over at him. He had focused all his energy on not smirking at him—this was the start of a beautiful friendship, he inwardly laughed.

Ben smiled, looking down at his desk. He rested his arms on it, biting his lip lightly. This guy was beyond cute.

'The gruesome sight had since been cleaned. You would never have believed the things that happened in this house, had we not been here…every step of the way.' A frown. 'Truly tragic, and with no leads the family is left without closure. Oh! Mr. Wakely! Please, do you have a moment?’ "No." 'Please, we would like to interview you! What was it like, what do you have to say to the killer, if he is watching?' "No comment." … A sigh; it came from a boy, closely linked with the man on the television firmly speaking to the news people, so closely in fact, that it was actually his father. And he hated it. He hated all of it, all of this. As soon as he felt that hatred well up in the pits of his stomach he grabbed the remote control and shut the thing off. It was all he heard, every day since it happened. He was sick of it, already. All he wanted to do was sleep, sleep until everything could boil over. "Travis?" The boy sighed again, his father called to him from the front door. He immediately felt a ping in his heart. For everything, for his want to stay home, for his doubt and fear, for his hunger for delectable sweets. But they were all shunned when his father walked up to him, towering above him. "You’re going to school today." "Okay." he weakly replied, getting up slowly. He already missed the first day of Highschool, and probably a couple after that. He was glad, but terrified at the same time. On the up side, he didn’t have to go to the first classes with everyone and it be so awkward with all of them already knowing who he was. On the downside, he already was less educated than them and has to go through it anyway. His father didn’t give him too much time to mull it over, packing his backpack for him and firmly taking him by the arm, leading him outside. He locked the door behind them and got in the car. On the drive there, Travis was forced to read through papers the school had sent—or his father had picked up. Regardless, they were handed out on the first day and he was told to study them. He tried not to panic. By the time they got there, Travis had successfully panicked, and gotten yelled at. He was quiet, slung his backpack on and let his father lead him. He took in the sights. This was a whole new thing for him, a new area and a new building. His heart beat quickly, and he tried to regulate his breathing. Having a panic attack first thing was something he needed to not do. But as soon as he was inside the doors and saw people, he adverted his gaze to the floor, feeling his face grow hot. He didn’t used to be like this. He would use the excuse of ‘still mourning’ if he didn’t get shit thrown at him every time he did. So he kept quiet, and tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be so bad. His father talked to someone, but he didn’t look. He recognized the voice though, and the conversation was brief. He was told to look up and pay attention. He did so, and was lead to his locker. He put his bag away, and then went to his first class. He was a few minutes late, but his father stopped him anyway. "Don’t do anything stupid." Travis twisted his mouth into a grimace, and his father stood up straight. “I’m leaving now. Don’t call me until school’s out.” and with that, he left. He couldn’t help but watch him, both out of frustration and remorse. He turned around, and opened the door, refusing to look at the class. He gave the English teacher an apologetic look, sheepishly making his way into the room. He walked in fully, tensing and doing his absolute best not to be awkward. But he found he could barely look at anyone in the room, and took to glancing at the teacher. His expression held both anger and pleading.

He waited for Travis to write back to him, giving him a nod, and widening his eyes and rolling them, gesturing to the notebook. “Write back, asshole.” He hissed, sighing.

Dedicated to my girlfriend who keeps falling asleep on call and being a cute little shit. <3 I love you.