#phyripo

Since when did he get detention? Well, there was that time he turned up to school hungover, forgetting he had a two-hour chemistry lesson about alcohols of all things, and promptly throwing up all over his notes. That had been the grimmest day of his life so far, in all honesty.

But aside from that- !- he’d never gotten a detention in his life- and the previous event had actually resulted in a week’s suspension and a concerned phonecall to his brother anyway, so technically his slate was still spotless.

So why the hell had his form tutor only today informed him of a month’s worth of detentions- starting with this one right here. How? What could he have possibly done to warrant a whole month of his life spent writing lines after school as punishment?

Seriously, what had he done?

It was the art teacher he’d cheesed off, apparently, given that he was now surrounded by drying racks and A1 sized card paintings, mostly depicting detailed and often surreal portraits, and then his own vase of flowers, inspired by the likes of Jan Brueghel the elder and Ambrosius Bosschaert, and others from the Dutch Golden Age. It was with great amusement that he’d linked his brother’s own love of gardening to the Dutch Flowers movement and thus his inspiration for GCSE art- though actually painting in such detail was a challenge he’d not quite grasped until it came to practicing his own paintings. But boy had it been a struggle to finish every little detail in two days.

All in all, Luca was proud of the work he’d put into his final piece, finished only today at the end of a grueling, two-day exam, so why the hell was he here? He didn’t like getting in trouble, not in the slightest, and hadn’t done anything to offend Mr Kirkland. Well, not deliberately.

“The hell did you do?”

The teacher had yet to arrive, and so far there were only three- now four- students waiting for him: Luca, two strange-looking pipsqueaks from a few years below him, and now his mate Tolli. To be honest, they only really talked in the art and history lessons they shared, but the boy seemed nice enough.

And apparently had been discovered to be the one who changed every desktop screen in the graphics design computer room to a picture of Robbie Rotten. Oh well. He’d tried to get away with it.

“I don’t know,” he hissed back as the guy sat next to him, “seriously, what could I have done to tick the fellow off?”

“I don’t know,” Tolli gave a little shrug, “I can’t remember anything ya did… Are you crying?”

“…No.”

“Were ya crying?”

“Maybe,” Luca almost sobbed.

Tolli’s eyebrows knotted together. “You cried… over a detention?”

“That a problem?” Yes, yes he’d cried over his first ever detention, okay? Not only was it a new experience for him, but he’d somehow done something so bad-

How did a person even get a month’s worth of detention? What did they have to fuck up to get that result? Luca was almost impressed at himself.

“What about those two?” Tolli nodded over at the pair of what were clearly future art students- one had tied his hair in multicoloured ribbons and the other somehow had paint on his face. Not that Luca had particularly cared to people watch at that moment in time. They seemed a little couply though, practically on each other’s laps as they cuddled.

“Don’t know.”

“What’re ye in for?” he called to the pair.

“Painting nudes for homework,” paint-face called back.

Okay. Luca was officially done with trying to understand young people. Yes, he was only sixteen but anyone younger was beyond reasoning now. Then again, the inner mechanisms of Mr Kirkland’s mind could be a complete mystery too.

“Oh! I got it!” Tolli snapped his fingers for emphasis, “Luca Rotaru!”

“Morgens. I’m Luca Morgens, remember?” Christ, had Tolli been paying that little attention to his life?

Tolli just raised an eyebrow at that. “No, Luca Rotaru in year nine!”

“Who?” There was another Luca in the school? Now that he thought of it, it was hardly some miraculous coincidence. Luca wasn’t the rarest of names.

“Really?” For some reason, Tolli looked absolutely astounded at his friend’s ignorance. “I barely care and even I know about Rotaru.”

“Why? Is he famous or something?” He either had celebrities for parents or had set fire to his previous school. Luca was hoping for the latter, to an extent.

“Famous for being weird as shit,” Tolli was saying, “he’s that kid who brought in a real live hamster and set it loose in the greenhouse, remember?”

“Oh, that guy.” Nice to place a name to an incident.

Tolli just looked like he was happy to be getting somewhere. “Yes, that guy. The one who drew a pentagram in the gym. That guy. Doesn’t own a pair of underwear guy. Claims his brother knows how to summon Satan guy.”

“He sounds… disturbed.” Maybe he had burnt down his previous school after all, and a hospital, an Aldi and a couple nursing homes. Also what the actual fuck was wrong with this kid?

“He probably is. I don’t think he has parents.”

“Does that really excuse vandalism?”

Tolli just shrugged.

Maybe he had something more to say, but Mr Kirkland’s arrival prevented him from speaking another word, like why the hell were they talking about a wannabe Satanist and how did they get onto the subject?

“Separate tables,” Mr Kirkland growled in greeting, indicating to the pair of now rather dejected duos. Well detention sure sounded fun. Luca wanted to crawl under a pile of paintings and cry.

“Morgens, what are you doing here?”

Being miserable and a little ashamed of himself. “I don’t actually know, sir.” Might as well be honest- and at least this way he could get some answers. Unless Mr Kirkland decided the best course of action was to fly off the rails for no reason, like teachers tended to do.

But Mr Kirkland just ran a hand through his hair with a groan. “That may be because you’re not meant to be here at all.”

“I’m not?” What was this? A song in his heart? A cloud beneath him? A light spring breeze in his hair?

“No, it seems your name must’ve been mixed with another’s at some point.” Mr Kirkland seemed unwilling to name names, but Luca could guess who the real hooligan was.

“So I can take my leave now?” he asked, causing yet another eye roll from Tolli.

“Yes you may; sorry for keeping you, lad.”

…

Well, that was the other Luca, supposedly.

Luca M. hadn’t been too sure what he was expecting, but a scruffy borderline feral fourteen year old wandering about a crowded school corridor seemed about right. Very little of what Luca R. was wearing seemed to be the correct school uniform, but given his track record, that probably wasn’t the school’s biggest concern for once.

Everything about him screamed tryhard, needless eccentricities though, from the necklace made of old Halloween fangs, to the fur coat whose original owner might have had the mange, to the somewhat disturbing lack of shoes. Did he… not come to school with shoes? Did he even own a pair? He, apparently, went out of the way to buy his own miniature hat, so why not even a cheap pair?

Was this even something he could find out? Luca M. couldn’t exactly ask such a thing in polite conversation.

Besides, he had a job to do and should honestly stop staring at the kid from afar because it probably looked creepy.

“Hey,” he called, keeping his voice as soft yet audible as possible, “Luca Rotaru, right?”

Luca R. jumped at that, spinning round slightly and glancing up with a pair of massive doe eyes, like he’d been caught taking ecstasy, or was a cat begging for food. It probably would’ve been cuter if he was a manga character, as opposed to a real life teenage boy.

“Um, yes? Oh gosh, what have I done now?”

“Erm, nothing,” Luca M. replied in surprise. Well, nothing he actually knew of that recently happened. Even the hamster incident had been a month or so ago.

“Oh, hello,” he held out a hand awkwardly, “I’m Luca Morgens.”

The adorable edgelord smiled at that. “Hello fellow Luca!” The way he said that made Luca M. wonder if the kid was about to ask him to join a secret cult of people named Luca.

Could they drink at cult meetings? Because he might consider it (exam season had more or less broken him at this point).

“Well, erm,” he licked his lips trying to find the right words, “your presence is required at… erm, well, detention with Mr Kirkland. For the next month.”

“Oh.” Luca R. seemed to deflate at that, giving a half-hearted shrug that ruffled the remaining fur on his coat. “I suppose I had it coming.”

“What did you even do?” The words were out of Luca M’s mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, if you don’t mind my ask-“

“I tried to make a new mother in art,” Luca R. explained, “and one of the kids in my class called me a dickhead so I punched him.”

“Ah.” Almost cute. If cute was tragic mixed with unnerving.

“Why did sit ask you to deliver the message though?” asked Luca R. as the other Luca turned to leave. Oh.

“There was a mixup,” he explained, “probably something to do with us being the only ‘Luca’s in the school.” Or to his knowledge, at least.

“Oh you didn’t have to sit my detention, did you?” Luca R. looked horrified at the thought, a hand shooting up to cover his mouth.

“Not at all; it was all sorted out fine,” Luca M. tried his best to look reassuring, but wasn’t sure discount Luca actually believed him.

“Oh I’m so sorry.” Now they were holding hands… why? Luca R. sure had a sweet side to him, hidden somewhere under the weird. “Let me make it up to you!”

“Really, it’s-“

“No, I feel really bad about it.” His little bottom lip started wobbling, and Luca M. simply sighed.

“We can hang out sometime, if that’s okay with you.” A rather simple but ingenious plan was beginning to form in his head: if he befriended Luca R, he could buy him a pair of shoes for his birthday.