false prophet;

While it wasn’t unusual for Gwen Prescott to fly completely off the handle at any given inconvenience, this was something a little bit different. Her episodes always came in waves, like a gushing of blood in her ears, drowning out all sound reason and rationality around her, drowning out all voices in the back of her mind that told her to stop, to re-think what she was going to say next. It drowned everything out from the warmth in her fingertips to any good feeling that remained in her chest, it all just drained out of her like sand spilling through fingers, grasping at granules. The hard part was knowing that it was coming. For days, weeks even, there were tells. Restless nights of broken sleep, no particular grand appetite, but these were just small things that could go amiss if you weren’t paying close attention and she hadn’t been. Now though, it was impossible to ignore. Her whole body felt like it was vibrating and rupturing, like building cracking in the foundation, causing it all to take a slow and inevitable crumble. She was losing it. Her chest was heaving and her breath was coming in rasps, eyes welling and glassy as she watched Damian’s back leave her in the hallway with nothing but her own yelling in her ears.

There he went again, she thought. God, what was it about her that made people want to always walk away from her?

Twisting around, Gwen sped in the opposite direction with no clue of where she was going, just that she needed to get out of there and she needed to breathe, or else she’d suffocate. Her palms hit a heavy wooden door and she blasted into her escape room with heaving sobs. Get a grip, she whispered to herself but her voice came out foreign and gaspy. Her spine craned forward and suddenly Gwen’s hands were on a surface, nails biting for stability as her lungs threatened to cave in on themselves. “I can’t.” She said to herself in response to her own advice. She couldn’t get a grip, she felt like her head was spinning and she was about to fall off the edge of a God damn void chasm. What she didn’t know, as she momentarily sunk into the heavy panic attack, was that this school was too small to not have an audience at every turn.

Sebastian was mostly spaced out, daydreaming as he stood at the urinal, thinking about what would be for dinner that evening while he relieved himself and certainly not expecting any sort of sudden disruption from Gwen Prescott, or any girl for that matter. “Jesus- fuck- what the-” he spat out incoherently as she tumbled into the boy’s bathroom with all the subtly of a tornado.  Without much time to deal with his situation in any particularly graceful manner, he quickly wrapped things up as best he could and zipped up his school slacks. As much as he relished in the rumors around school about him having a hog in his pants, he wasn’t all that keen to wave it around in front of Gwen unsolicited and risk being crucified in front of the chapel for harassment. 

“Okay I get that it’s 2020 and shit but a little warning would be-” he started abrasively before realizing that Gwen Prescott didn’t really look like Gwen Prescott at all. Sure, the giant tits were there, the bouncy hair, the beautiful blue eyes that gave him butterflies every time he noticed how bright they were, whenever she wore something blue. Or whatever. Still, despite the presence of her identifying features, her usual bravado was missing and it was almost more alarming than if she’d been missing a limb or a nose. It looked foreign. “Are you okay?” obviously not, stupid question but he was trying, wasn’t that something. It was then that the door swung open and another student, minding their business attempted to cut into their impromptu heart to hear. 

“Occupado, hombre,” Sebastian snapped viciously at the intrusion, “Fuck off,” he added, just in case the message wasn’t quite clear. Once the other student scurried away, all but shitting his pants in the process. Sebastian then moved past Gwen, dragging a hefty trash bin in front of the door, blocking its passage so that she could have a little privacy while she did...whatever it was that she was doing. Sebastian then turned his attention back to the brunette at the basin. 

Astrid swallowed the lump forming in her throat, Sebastian Sergeant was low on her list of people she wanted to run into today, or any day for that matter. He intimated her more than most, and that was saying something. She managed to avoid him and most of his friends for the last three years relatively unscathed and she had certainly never been in a room alone with him, his broad shoulders blocking the only exit. 

“A minute?” She squeaked, color rushing to her cheeks as she tried to remember if she had made any mistakes, if her fingers had slipped in any noticeable way. “Wouldn’t you be spooked if you thought you were and alone?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, several octaves down from her startled shout. 

“Typically yes,” She said, getting back from the piano bench and moving to a near by corner of the room, as far away from Sebastian as she could get. “But it’s not ready yet. I mean, I’m not ready yet, obviously the music is ready. It’s been ready for the 200 years, thats a lot of pressure.” She was rambling and she was certain that in a few short moments she had said more to Sebastian Sergeant than she had in the whole three years she had been at Broadripple. 

“Something like that,” he responded casually, making it abundantly clear that he hadn’t bothered to keep a track of the time he’d spent there nor waste any additional time thinking about it.  He couldn’t help but find himself entertained by the slow rising flush coloring her cheeks as she made eye contact with him. “Why would I?” he asked rhetorically. He liked to play the role of the tough guy, unshakable and unafraid of anything and his stature allowed him to do it without much trouble at all. Truthfully, however, the things that spooked him were far deeper than a bump in the night or an unfamiliar figure in the shadows. He was spooked by the thought of people seeing through his grand facade but not by people sneaking up on him.

He watched her with his gaze glued, following her as she shifted across the room. Was she trying to make an escape now? “I didn’t mean to interrupt your session,” and that was somewhat true. He’d been passing by when she’d momentarily captured his curiosity. He didn’t intend on staying long until he’d noticed what an adverse reaction she had to his presence and decided he could fuck around with it for a little longer before he got bored.

“Is it hard to read music?” he asked, moving into the room but staying between her and the door as he picked up a sheet of music she’d left behind on the rack. “I wanted to play the drums when I was a kid but I was too loud and I never learned how to read music anyway, I just kinda kept doing it,” he explained. He’d had a couple of lessons but he hadn’t taken to them particularly well and soon enough his parents realized that if he wanted to beat the shit out of something, he was better off sacking people on the hockey field than irritating them with a drumkit. “I think it’s weird that you’re so quiet in school but you choose a hobby that’s only purpose is to just make noise- I bet there’s something philosophical about that,” that wasn’t quite the right word, “Or psychological, I mean,” better. 

Astrid sat at the grand piano in the music room when everyone else was finishing their dinner. She liked to eat fast and leave early so that she could wander around the school without any risk of bumping into someone. Tonight she headed straight to the music room, to practice for an upcoming recital. She had a piano solo that she was struggling with and she hated having to practice in front of her peers. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all watching her, wondering how a girl like her had landed a solo. It made her feel like a fraud. 

So she practiced alone, carving out time during the day when she knew no one else would be around. It was her speciality, knowing where one could hide in the school even though it could feel like all the students were packed in like sardines. She smiled, feeling like a spy as she snuck out of the dining hall and down the halls to the music room. Sometimes she felt as if she could blend into the walls, that was how good she was at sneaking. 

So believing that she was alone she happily practiced her solo, letting the sound of Beethoven fill the otherwise quiet room. It wasn’t until she got to the end of her solo that she realized she had company when she heard clapping coming from the doorway behind her. 

“Jesus Christ!” She shouted, practically jumping out of her skin. “How long have you been standing there?”

Sebastian wasn’t particularly adept at hiding. It wasn’t easy for a six foot four goon of a guy built like a tank and with all the subtly of a firing squad. He did, however, make a habit out of skulking around and stalking other students, particularly female students when he was bored with whatever his buddies were doing to mindlessly entertain themselves at the time. Astrid Sinclair most certainly hadn’t been his target but when he’d heard the skillful melody cascading from inside one of the rehearsal rooms, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Instead of making his presence known to the blonde, he watched in silence with a shoulder pressed to the doorway and his arms folded across his chest until the song came to a climactic conclusion and he started to clap.

He laughed openly at her fright, as entertained by that as he had been by the performance that preceded it. “A minute,” he guessed, he hadn’t really been counting but assumed it couldn’t be any longer than that. He hadn’t heard the start of the song and unless it was some sort of marathon piece, he reasoned that she couldn’t have been playing for more than a few minutes in total. “You’re pretty jumpy Sinclair, something got you spooked?” Sebastian asked, aware that he himself could be and was a source of intimidation for many students. “I thought a performance was supposed to have an audience,” he reasoned.

how did nele not know about this tree before? perfectly curved trunk to accommodate a persons back, and located in a quiet enough place to get away with a nap. but there’d be no time for slumber today, for the sound of a fellow students voice bellows from the grass beside her. nele only manages to catch the end of their sentence, “sorry, i’m up in the clouds right now. what did you say?”

open starter @broadripplestarters​

“There’s a bird in that tree that goes apeshit if you get too close to it when it has a nest in there,” he pointed up toward the top half of the tree. “Last year I had to get three stitches in the back of my head because that asshole bird thought I was going to fuck with it,” and he was, he was trying to get a frisbee out of the tree and the bird had seen him, quite reasonably, as a threat. “I had to shave my head and everything, buzzcut for weeks. I know some guys dig the bald chick look but I don’t know if itswhat you’re going for,” 

“Is that what that was…” Her voice lowered to something dismissive and breathy, eyes squinting at him a bit like how a sister might mock a brother in a moment of utter repulsion. While Gwen had sparred with many during her high school career, none were as easy to be nasty to than Sebastian. Even Damian hadn’t copped the particular brand of venom she saved in the back of her throat, but then history told her that Sebastian could handle it, unfortunately. Like a cockroach, not much could eradicate him. So by now, her comments were simply off the cuff and barely crafted to dismantle him completely. If they had been, she’d had to have spent a lot more time caring about him and that just simply didn’t fit into her personal schedule.

“Pass. Sounds like babysitting.” There was no way sitting down and studying with Sebastian would ever be just that, and Gwen was always quick to make it known that she wasn’t a fool. Whether he’d find a way to brush an elbow past her bust as he reached for his notes, or what, she didn’t even want to know what could ever come out of willingly spending time with him. It wouldn’t be anything good, or that she didn’t need therapy for, probably.

Despite her lack of amusement, her face still cracked into a smile, one of minor disappointment. “Your lack of originality is truly remarkable. You’d think after all these years, you boys might have come up with some new content.” Ya basic, would have just been a quicker, modern form of bravado, but alas. “Disappointing, but not a surprise, I guess. Even so-called alphas have a bit of sheep in them.”

No matter how low Sebastian’s expectations remained, Gwen always managed to disappoint him without fail. If it didn’t suck so badly for the teenager, it might have been considered impressive. “Right- cos who could possibly keep up with your level of academic brilliance?” he mused facetiously. Sure, Gwen was smart but it wasn’t like she was some kind of genius. She studied hard, so did Sebastian, anybody could do that.

He ran his tongue along the surface of his teeth, loathing the idea that he was considered a sheep among the boys of Broadripple Academy. Mostly because it was true. Sebastian was a brute but he wasn’t anybody’s leader, that was Max’s job. What Max lacked in Sebastian’s stature and effortless intimidation, he made up for in underhanded tactics and general malice. It made Sebastian’s muscles tighten just a little to think that Gwen probably liked that about Max, “I’m just fucking around Gwen, I don’t mean it,” he insisted, backing off a little as he held a hand up, palm open in surrender, “You don’t have to always act like I’m about to throw you into oncoming traffic- or like you’re about to throw me into oncoming traffic,” he wasn’t sure which of the two was more accurate.

“What if I just walk you back to the girl’s dorms?” he suggested as a counter offer before realizing that he might have just added fuel to the already crackling fire that was Gwen Prescott’s hot temperament “- walk with you,” he corrected himself, making it known that he didn’t truly believe he was doing her any sort of a favor, God forbid he imply that Gwen Prescott didn’t an executive escort from another student, let alone a BBC boy.

“Wow,” Micah said after considering Sebastian’s words for a moment longer than was comfortable. “That was…disturbingly vivid.” 

It seemed like all of their conversations, at least as of late, ended up at a standstill. Sebastian said some backhanded-slash-outright mean things to him and Micah thought why are you the way that you are and it sort of just fizzled out naturally from there. He figured he could be less of a nuisance and leave, but all the talk of Johnnie had him rethinking the way he came off to some of these BBC guys. Maybe this was like, a good opportunity to rekindle what little amount of goodwill he had with Sebastian before the first time he opened his mouth around him. 

“So…are you…talking to anyone lately? Like, a girl or something?” 

“Yeah, I’m a poet,” he spoke dryly to Micah, making it difficult to tell whether he was being sincere or just fucking with the other boy for the sake of it.

as it was often recently, drea’s mind was elsewhere as she walked back from her run. while she wasn’t excessively passionate about cross country, or any sport at all, she liked using training as an excuse to run out in the open and think about nothing for a while. it made her seem more proactive than she was, a trick she’d learned years ago but one she was a little out of practice with. beads of sweat became cold on the back of her neck, bag hanging from her shoulder and bumping against her as she walked. she was too involved in her phone to notice the bag starting to unzip with each step, nor did she notice her empty water bottle tumbling out.

not until someone called out to her anyway. she didn’t turn at first, finishing up a text far more important. but the second thing they said caught her attention a little more firmly. pressing send before she turned, locking her phone as she looked back to see sebastian bending over and picking up her water bottle from the floor. “ shit, hey– ” she said, approaching quickly and letting her features become more friendly. she reached around to her bag, pulling into to her front so she could pull the zipper closed before swinging it back. “ thank you, ” she said holding out her hand to accept the bottle back.

it was then she observed he was still in uniform, full uniform. blazer and all. it wasn’t that strange, but usually students couldn’t change out of uniform quick enough. unless they had to go somewhere immediately after class, and then, usually you’d still lose the blazer, even in the cold. “ where’ve you been? ” she asked, brow furrowing a touch, assuming a more interesting story than detention. maybe he’d been to greenfield, still not extraordinarily interesting but she’d take it.

“Oh, I was just in a meeting with Father Doheny. He wanted to personally congratulate me and let me know that my American Student of the Year award is in the mail and on its way to Broadripple,” he announced playfully without missing a beat as he teased her facetiously. He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander a little, admiring her athletic attire and the way it clung to her body as he took half a step toward her, disguising the move as a gesture of goodwill. 

“-and you? Training for track?” or cross-country or whatever she did. He didn’t keep tabs on the extra-curricular activities of the junior girls that didn’t involve being a slut. “- or practicing running away from Lezra Spergmann when he eventually snaps and tries to kill everybody?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he placed the water bottle in her hand. “Pleasure,” he assured her and really, it was since he got to ogle her a little. “Let me walk you back to the dorms?” he suggested, “I’m a natural loser repellent, it’s my superpower,” he assured her and perhaps the fact that losers would avoid them really was one of his only qualities. 

Since learning of their existence, Scotty has actively tried to avoid the BBC. They were basically the private school equivalent of the popular jock clique in public schools. Tall and beefy and looked like they should have their own #InMyCalvins ad. It was kind of weird but Scotty’s come to learn that even hoity toity places shared things in common with their less expensive counterparts. 

Sebastian Sergeant was arguably the scariest of them all. If a hammer had a face, his would be it. He didn’t know how that made sense in his head, but it did. The dude was just… frightening. And somehow even more intimidating with his blazer’s collar popped up like that.

“Oh,” Scotty got out, unsure if he should go over and retrieve the notebook from Sebastian or just say goodbye to his American History notes forever. The latter option seemed more appealing the longer he stared at Sebastian in all his giant-esque glory. Would it be appropriate to ask Sebastian to just slide it over? Like a gun in movies? Wait no, he’d probably get all mad and ask Scotty who he thought he was asking Sebastian to do something for him. Or the notebook would be chucked at him and he could lose an eye or something.

But he needed those notes. He had a quiz to study for. 

With a gulp, Scotty decided to brave it and walk on over to meet Sebastian, every bit a Chihuahua that really needed to pee but was nervous to on the inside.

“Uh thanks for, um, picking it up, Seb– Sebastian.” 

They weren’t friends, who did he think he was dropping a casual ‘Seb’ like they’ve known each other since they were 5? Oh man, Scotty was about to die. He should really remember to leave Conny instructions for cases like this. How would people know who his signed X-Men poster goes to? They wouldn’t know!

“No problem, buddy,” there was something particularly disturbing about the selection of chummy nicknames Sebastian selected people that he would rather skin alive than be considered pals with. Something even more disturbing about the way he said those chummy nicknames, each syllable laced with venom. “That’ll be five dollars- plus taxes,” he assured Scotty with confidence, not missing a beat as he extended his arm, palm open and waiting to accept his payment as if it was a totally normal, expected transaction. 

“-and if you don’t have it now, well,” he sighed insincerely; Sebastian wasn’t the world’s greatest actor but Scotty also wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, “-I hate to deal in ‘ifs’ and ‘whens’ but if you don’t have it now, I know you’re a trustworthy guy so I guess I could wait until you get it but-then there’s always the thing with charging interest. I gotta charge interest, that’s the law, I know cos my Dad’s a decorated attorney” he was a dentist, actually, “- so it would take it up to fifteen dollars at least and, man, you’re a nice kid, I don’t wanna do that to you,” he rubbed the back of his hand against the underside of his chin with a pensive expression for a moment or so, “-but I guess if you don’t tell anybody, I could wait on it and you could just put it in my pigeon hole in the dorm,” he suggested, “- just don’t tell anybody, you know, I don’t want people thinking I do I.O.U.s for everybody when I’m doing ‘em favors,” he insisted, making it sound as if this was some sort of a once in a lifetime offer and perhaps it was, since Sebastian had pulled all of it out of his ass on the spot.

  Almost as soon as slender fingers engulfed the precious item being handed back it was tucked away into her tote bag. She couldn’t be certain how it had fallen out in the first place but nonetheless, she felt grateful for having it back where it belonged. She’s momentary caught off guard by his inquiry, half expecting their interaction to have ended there. 

  Crimson lips lift upward in the ghost of a smile, her gaze curious yet sharp. “Some of us take note taking more seriously than others I suppose,” Lila offered in response. Nothing in her tone suggesting any of it being genuine but still, she found herself interested to see if he’d take the bait or let it go. “Aren’t afternoon activities over with? What’s got you out and about so close to curfew anyway?” Did Delilah really care? Not in particular but still, it felt necessary to push the conversation along and away from the book of secrets pressed against the side of her ribcage.

Sebastian had half a mind to tighten his grip on the book, the moment Lila reached out for it but at the last moment, he decided there was no point. She’d struggle for a moment, huff in his general direction and be on her way without another word. Talking to her was much more entertaining than that, he decided, watching as the mysterious leather-bound book disappeared in her bag.

“That’s like saying Nike shoes make you run faster,” he noted, tucking his hands into the pockets of his blazer now, keeping them occupied once they were empty. “Just got out of the gulag,” he flicked his head in the direction of the administration building, “Forty-five glorious minutes of writing an essay about cultural sensitivity and what we can learn about our present and future from global history,” he explained, referring to the two-page paper he had written that now resided at the bottom of a waste paper basket in a neat little crumpled ball. “What about you? Just come from the woods? If you’re trying to summon the devil, my roommate is a virgin and I bet he’d make a great sacrifice- I’d even be willing to help you tie him up, though you could probably handle him on your own. He’s kind of wimpy. I’d probably have to charge a finders fee, you understand, we live in a capitalist world, that’s just how it is,”

  Broadripple truly had all the opportunity in the world to lean into its peculiarity and have fun with it. Unfortunately, however, the faculty and staff seemed to hold less than an ounce of humor between them. One would think as a catholic institution they would be used to the macabre and unusual since the bible was full of it but apparently not. Jesus could turn water into wine no questions asked yet heaven forbid Lila offer to read a sister’s palm to see how much time she has left to live. Had she done it just to freak her out? That was neither here nor there. In fact, it was besides the point entirely. What was more important here was that she’d been forced to wipe black boards for the last two hours to atone for her ‘misbehavior’. 

  She hadn’t even known black boards still existed! White powder clung to her clothes as she made her way across campus finally done with her cruel and unusual punishment. A frown firmly etched against pouty red lips. 

  Her sole focus laid in getting back to her dorm quickly enough to wash all of this chalk off of her but the sound of a voice calling out brings her quick steps to a pause. Chocolate hues immediately clock the leather bound journal within the jock’s grasp. Lila finds herself immediately fighting the urge to snatch the item back like he stole it and instead calmly lifts an expecting hand. The last thing she needed was him realizing that he held her diary in his hands. “Thanks, Sebastian is it?” 

  She knew his name. It was impossible not to when the BBC members roam around the grounds like they owned the place but she was playing nice for now at least. “You’re a lifesaver. It’d be kind of hard to do my botany homework without my botany notes.” 

Sebastian’s tongue ran over the enamel surface of his front teeth as his jaw tightened a little. Was she seriously questioning his name? The audacity. “Yeah, Sebastian,” he assured her rather bluntly, extending his reach just a little further to meet hers and loosening his grip on the book. 

“Fancy book for school notes,” he commented astutely. He kept all of his notes in the same, generic lined notebooks every year. The only thing differentiating them was the label on the front that dictated what kind of notes were inside and even then, the label was nothing more than a scrawling in permanent marker in his own messy handwriting. “Do you keep all your notes like that?” he asked curiously, it seemed odd to him and that much was made obvious by the inquisitive inflection in his tone of voice.

If there was anything Gwen hated more than people who blocked the school hallways with their fat asses and pointless conversations, it was people assuming she needed help with just about anything. She was capable. Or she liked to appear capable, anyway, even if she was completely clueless or scraping for answers, Gwen was never the type to ask for assistance. No, she barked orders, but she rarely asked for help. She had a pride problem, but that was obvious and known to most.

So perhaps it was because, on this rare day, she had her hair down and bouncing around her shoulders rather than up in her usual blue bow ensemble that Sebastian didn’t recognize her — or perhaps he just wanted to poke the beast. Either way, the moment their fingertips clashed over a Comparative Political and Economic Systems textbook, Gwen was quick to snatch it from him despite his efforts.

“That shit,” She interjected, “Bears the beginnings of the rest of my life not having to deal with party boy lowlives.” In other words, she couldn’t wait for her stupid American History paper to be done with so that she could get an A and move onto the next thing that brought her ever closer to getting out of Broadripple.

“Don’t you have a freshman to be shoving in a confessions booth or something?” She snarked, sliding the textbook back into her navy folder, in with the rest of her notes for the day.

“Figure of speech,” he interjected lightly though it didn’t seem to have any effect on her monologue which was already full steam ahead on insulting the BBC boys, Sebastian included. 

“Was there supposed to be a thank you in there somewhere?” he asked as if it had simply been an accidental omission on Gwen’s part, though he knew better; there would be no thank you. In fact, he was lucky she’d said anything at all and hadn’t simply snatched the book from his hand and turned on her heel without so much as an eye roll to acknowledge his effort.

 “I’m still working on my Cold War paper,” he noted, “Maybe we can study together, I’m about three-fifty words off the limit and I could use a second pair of eyes to help me refine my paper and finalize my conclusion,” it wasn’t an offer he was putting too much weight into, expecting to be shot down the moment he opened his mouth. He was nobody’s fool, he knew who he was dealing with. Still, a boyish part of him couldn’t help but make attempt after attempt to connect with the girl, even if he was painfully aware of his standings with her and her friends.

He smirked at her snarky comment, watching her hands as she organized her belongings, scathingly scolding his bullying habits so casually as if it took no effort whatsoever. God, she was sexy. “Why? You in need of a virgin sacrifice this week? I’d be more than happy to oblige- that’s how you keep your youthful looks, isn’t it?” 

His brows jumped as though to say fair enough, hands retreating to the pockets of his jacket as he walked alongside Sebastian. That was a strength of his, he liked to think. The less others thought about him, the less he had to think about others thinking about him. This was the basis for over sixty percent of his anxieties. Life was hard.

“A gag? What, like he thought I was your sister or something?” Micah appraised Sebastian with a look. He didn’t think they looked all that much alike, except for the fact that they were both white guys, which did kind of make them look similar by default, he guessed. Anyway. Not the point. “I mean, it’s whatever. The last thing I wanna do is start beef with a guy who smokes. He might, like…cough on me and cause me to go into epileptic shock. Or run me over with his car.”

Sebastian visibly cringed at Micah’s words, “What the fuck are you talking about?” he spat out with disdain, not humoring Micah’s suggestion for even a moment. “God, you say some weird shit,” he spoke as if it personally offended Sebastian and maybe it did. “I’m just saying- he’s fucking with you to fuck with you and fucking with me to fuck with me, get over it,” he was slightly impatient, less amicable now. 

“You know, he’d sooner pummel you into mincemeat, Chief. You’d be lucky if you got away from him a little short of breath instead of shitting into a bag and eating liquid lunch for the rest of your life,” he noted, thinking he was pretty on the money with his assessment of Johnnie. It wasn’t that Johnnie seemed particularly violent as far as Sebastian was aware, it was just that Micah was a soft target and Johnnie did have a sort of wild card vibe about him. “-and he really loves that car, he wouldn’t get your guts sprayed all over it, even if he was that pissed at you,” he added. It was a sweet car for an old thing and it was definitely better without Micah Shaw smeared all over it.

Bitchy? Micah stared at the palm of his hand like it’d provide him answers, but all it left him with was more confusion and more self-doubt. He supposed he could be okay with wimpy…it wasn’t exactly an ego-boost, but it didn’t have him doubting his outward expression of gender.

“I’m not trying to be feminine, Sebastian,” he said, exhausted. Wearing a skirt to classes was a bona fide way to scare every nun in sight and get called up to Father Doheny’s office for some “lecturing,” probably. Micah would sooner book a one-way ticket to hell than go around cross-dressing at a school like Broadripple. “It’s just that, I’m eighty percent sure someone mistook me for a chick, and I don’t know shit about what led them to that conclusion. Like what, do people think I’m androgynous? Do I look like Ellen?” 

Sebastian was surprised to hear that he hadn’t been correct in his assumptions, though he’d jumped to them swiftly and without any reasonable thought at all. “Bro, I don’t think people think about you at all,” it wasn’t as if Micah’s name came up all that often in conversation, though there was an occasion recently that had made Sebastian’s blood boil as he grit his teeth and clenched his fist, willing himself not to shove in through Johnnie Ward’s nasal cavity.

“You talkin’ about Ward?” he asked fairly obtusely, “Whatever he said, he said it to get a rise out of you, don’t take any notice of it. The guy runs his mouth cos it’s the only way anybody pays any attention to him,” he explained, under the genuine impression that he was entirely correct as he advised his roommate. “He did the same thing to me after the party- he saw us talking and whatever and thought he could make a gag out of it. It’s not like we were making macrame dream catchers for each other, we were talking.- I don’t know what his deal is but don’t sweat it. If that’s the best he’s got on you, I think you’re doing pretty fuckin’ well for yourself, enjoy it while it lasts,”

Micah didn’t consider himself to be someone self-conscious about his looks. In fact, if he had to consider it, he would say that he wasn’t very conscious of them at all. Or – okay, sometimes he saw his ribs in the mirror when he was changing and was like, should a guy be that skinny, but he didn’t contemplate it for long. He had all twenty-eight of his teeth and his eyes worked pretty well. That, to Micah, was enough.

…At least, it had been up until last Saturday. Micah didn’t know what to make of it when Johnnie told him Sebastian had to tell him that Micah wasn’t a chick. He wanted to believe that Johnnie had never seen him before and just assumed, for some odd reason, that Sebastian was rooming with a girl, even though that never happened at Broadripple. Because he made it pretty clear that he was, in fact, a guy.

Didn’t he?

Micah had time after his French exam to agonize over it, almost missing when Sebastian called out to him. He turned around at the last second and almost blanched when he saw him carrying his sticker-covered inhaler. “Oh. Shit.” Micah quickly swiped it back and shoved it into his pocket. “Thanks.”

When it became clear that Sebastian didn’t have anything else to say, Micah blurted out, “do I look feminine?”

Sebastian wasn’t quite sure what the fuck it was about him extended the lost inhaler to Micah that made him think that now was a good time to unload whatever it was that was plaguing his mind on his roommate but whatever. “No,” he said confidently, not hesitating for even a moment as the word was ejected from his lips. “Bitchy but not in a girly way, just in a like- a wimpy guy way,” he looked Micah up and down, to say that he was wimpy wasn’t to say that he was effeminate, Drea was a girl, so was Gwen and Maria and there was nothing wimpy about any of them if you asked Sebastian. 

“If you want to look like a girl, start with a skirt and shave your legs,” he offered, folding his arms across his chest, “Pretty sure it’s not against the rules,” he wasn’t sure at all but he also didn’t give a shit if Micah got into trouble for it, “-and that’s like a pretty big, yo, I’m feminine play,”  

Still, it had been worth it for a few comedic Snapchat stories, he decided as he strolled out of detention with his backpack over his shoulder, having almost fallen asleep at least six times in the past hour.

It was just as cold that afternoon as it had been that morning and he popped the collar of his blazer to shield his neck on his way back to the dormitory building, only to be distracted by the presence of a classmate not too far off in the distance, “Yo,” he called out to the student a few yards ahead of him in the school quadrangle, “You dropped your shit,” he expressed, bending over to pick up the item he’d watched fall out of their backpack.

Sebastian had strategically seated himself a row behind Maria De Oliveira, one seat to the left of the student body president so that he could keep an eye on her. Sure, it was a little creepy, arguably a little perverted but he was a man on a mission. He’d spotted it before Mr. Schwartz had even stood from his desk to begin the afternoon’s class. A steel water bottle with a dumb sticker on it, notably belonging to Maria.

He hadn’t been paying as much attention to the class as he had been paying attention to his target; the water bottle, not the student to whom it belonged. He was going to swipe that stupid thing if it killed him. He didn’t really care who saw him edging closer to Maria’s desk, silently scooting forward every so often, whenever Schwartz was talking loudly enough to mask the sound. His hulking figure was difficult to miss from the view of the students at the back of the classroom but fortunately, Maria with her eyes glued forward and her attention devoted entirely to her education didn’t notice his antics. Sebastian managed to lean in close enough, stretching over the confines of his desk which was uncomfortably too small for him anyway, to grab the water bottle, stowing it away in his backpack as soon as he had a firm grasp on it. With that, he was satisfied and allowed Mr. Schwartz the privilege of his attention for the remaining duration of their class, even raising his hand to answer a question on not one but two occasions.

------------------------------------------------

“Maria- hey,” Sebastian called out to the brunette in the corridor as he jogged to meet up with her, “You left this in English,” he explained, presenting her with the water bottle and a friendly smile. “Looks expensive, you probably don’t wanna lose it,” he noted in addition. “Where did you get it? I’ve got this shitty old Nike bottle I carry around. I’ve probably had it like, two years and the top is all fucked and anyway, everybody keeps saying that plastic is bad for you or whatever,” he shrugged his shoulders casually, waiting for Maria to educate him or at least advise him.