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62. âItâs only one night, weâll just share the bed.â I'm so weak when it comes to bed sharingđ
omg anon im weak for it 2. its justâŚalways so pure and good. thank you for the prompt!!! i hope youre okay with the ship i chose!!
runntag fluff under the cut
âLawrence. I need to stretch,â Joel gestures wildly at the other man as they stand at the foot of the bed. âI donât think you thoroughly understand my sleeping positions. I need one leg across the bed at all times.â
Joel wants the bed. No, Joel needs the bed. Theyâre on their way out of the country, going to London, but their flights have been unexpectedly delayed and rescheduled in a way that forces them into a hotel on the east coast for the night. Joel and Lawrence got slapped with the room that has one bed and one pull-out couch, and neither of them want the ugly, lumpy thing.
âJoel, my back hurts,â Lawrence returns, sounding equally as whiny. Joel wants to hit him on the arm, but theyâre above that. Wait, noâŚNo, theyâre not. Joel slaps Lawrence playfully on the arm and rolls his eyes. âWhy canât we both have it? Itâs only one night, weâll just share the bed.â
It means that Joel canât have all the leg room he wants, but it also means that neither of them will be cranky in the morning. Probably. Sometimes Lawrence finds a way no matter the situation. But Lawrence smiles when Joel agrees and Joel thinks that alone is worth the minor discomfort and the way his heart will surely beat just that much faster all through the night.
Yeah, heâs got a crush - what of it? Lawrence is handsome and single and oh- so is Joel! But they work together. And theyâre friends, good friends. And Joel isnât Lawrenceâs type. The odds are stacked against him, really. Itâs getting harder for Joel to date casually as he gets older. He just wants to settle down with a nice human being, dammit!
After showers are taken care of and electronics are plugged in for the night, Lawrence takes his shirt off and rushes to get under the covers as quickly as possible before Joel turns around from where heâs texting with his phone charging at the desk.Â
Yeah, Lawrence feels self-conscious around Joel - so what? It doesnât mean he has a crush or anything. That would be absurd. No, he justâŚfeels nervousâŚbecause of what Joel mightâŚthink of his body. As if Joelâs opinion matters. Oh, but it does. Good god, it does. Heâs been shirtless in front of Joel before, but never alone like this, and he feels vulnerable because if Joel sees him thereâs nothing else for Joel to focus on, no one else there to tell a joke. God, why is he like this?
Lawrence has the scratchy blankets pulled up to his chin when Joel goes to get into bed. Glasses still on, just staring at the ceiling like itâll give him some sort of answer to a question that he hasnât yet formulated.
âWeâre going shirts off?â Joel smiles, reaching for the hem of his own t-shirt. Lawrence shrugs and god itâs pathetic, the way he watches Joel take off his shirt. But when Joel lifts up his side of the blankets to clamber under them, Lawrenceâs lifts up a little, too, and Joel catches a flash of tummy and chest and sides before Lawrence quickly pulls the covers back down onto himself. âYouâre jumpy.â Lawrence doesnât reply.
âYouâre really gonna sleep facing me?â Lawrence asks once they get situated and ready to actually sleep. Joelâs about to turn out his bedside light, but Lawrence needs to give him some lip first. Joel doesnât know why he expected any different.
âWell, yeah. I gotta wake up to that handsome face,â Joel smirks before turning off the light, leaving them in complete darkness. The silence makes Joelâs stomach uneasy. âSorry, didnât mean to make you uncomfortable.â
âNo, just- donât say things you donât mean,â Lawrence whispers and Joel feels him turn over to face the wall, also feels his own heart ache. âGoodnight, Joel.â And Lawrence doesnât sound defeated. Thatâs what gets Joel. Itâs like Lawrence is used to saying that, used to people lying to him. And the fact that Lawrence didnât just laugh it off or make a mushy comment right back at himâŚit gets him thinking.
âI mean it,â Joel murmurs into the stillness. He reaches a tentative hand out until his fingertips meet Lawrenceâs back. He drags his nails down to Lawrenceâs lower back, then to his neck. Lawrence shivers and Joel feels the goosebumps forming. âLawrence.â
âYou donât-â
âLawrence,â Joel repeats, seemingly talking to himself. He scoots forward, inches closer to his friend and coworker in their queen bed, taking his two pillows with him. âLawrence, thereâs a reason I agreed to share the bed.â
âIâm not cuddling with you, Joel,â Lawrence sighs. Thereâs Lawrence. Finally. Joel chuckles and brings his hand back to curl into himself.
âDo you think Iâm handsome?â Joel prods. He doesnât  know exactly where the courage comes from, but he gives a quick, internal shoutout to the darkness. Lawrence turns over again, and Joel feels his exhaled breath hit his face, linger on his lips.
âCan we talk about this after the trip?â
ââCourse.â
Joelâs stomach does flips because Lawrenceâs question suggests that thereâs something there to talk about. Joel feels his skin clear up, feels himself regress five years in age. Oh my god, for once in his life thereâs hope. Itâs one in the morning in a shitty hotel in New Jersey and Joel Rubin has hope. Even if the conversation will be full of Lawrence telling Joel eight ways he can go fuck himself, itâs a conversation.
Lawrence gets to wake up to Joelâs handsome face. Yes, Joel is handsome, but that can be confessed later. As if it needs to be confessed; Lawrence thinks itâs fucking obvious and thinks Joelâs stupid for asking. And he flushes deep red when Joelâs eyes flutter open a few minutes later, as Lawrence is still staring at him, scanning every centimeter of his face and neck. Lawrence gets out of bed just as quick as he had gotten in the night before, and Joel laughs himself awake.
the finished commission done for @kovnntag!! they asked for runntag-centric ot8, where joel and larr get kidnapped and bicker a bunch and tbh it was beautiful.
if you want something commissioned, check out this post!!
Pairing: Runntag
Word Count: 2010
Joel was a patient person.
It had come with the job description, more or less. Running drugs across the country, from city to city, was not a job in which you rush through things. Rushing meant mistakes, and mistakes were going to end up with Joel either a) out thousands of dollars because a shipment got stolen, or b) somehow having that shipment tracked back up the grapevine, and have the authorities come knocking on his door with handcuffs. Patience is what made you successful in this business, in any business where illegal and morally grey actions were how you made a profit, and Joel was very successful, which meant his patience was that of a saintâs, and damn right he prided himself on it.
Things might have⌠changed, between him inheriting this underground company from his parents and when he joined up with Adam Kovic and his thrown together little group of criminals, sure. Namely, his patience might have waned a bit, because between the seven people he was now working with (coworkers had felt too formal, and these people were not formal, then or now), he couldnât afford the patience he was granted since a young age. He still wasnât sure what happened, when they all started worming their ways into his heart, and became less of those âidiots he dealt with for workâ and more of those âidiots heâd tear up the city forâ, but it happened, and Joel couldnât rightfully say he hated it, because he didnât. He, honestly, didnât. His patience suffered for it, but he would say some of his saintly patience for seven amazing people that showered him in love was a fair trade.
Joel, despite it all, was a patient person.
Joel, at the moment, couldnât have given a fucking damn about being patient.
His arms are pulled back behind him, tied with a few zip ties, and then down against the chair with rope. Heâs got a nasty bruise blooming on his cheek, and his ribs are aching, but this wasnât that bad, it could be worse. Lawrence is tied behind him, in a similar way, but he saw him take a pretty nasty punch to the mouth, and was sure heâd be nursing a busted lip for a while. And Joel was worried about him, about both of them, he honestly was, but goddamn if he wasnât fucking pissed off. He shouldnât even be in this situation right now. âThis is all your fault, Sonntag.â
Their attackers-slash-kidnappers are standing off to the side, talking to themselves, and Joel could see them glancing back at them, irritation written on their faces. âYouâve said that six times in the past thirty minutes, Joel.â
âBecause itâs still fucking true!â Joel said, voice raising. His arms hurt, his shoulders hurt, he just wanted to go home. âIf you had just-â
âGod, Joel, I know,â Lawrence cut him off, shifting in his seat. He sounded exhausted, and frustrated, but not angry. Joel didn't know how he wasn't angry. âI fucking know, alright?â
âDo you really? Because we wouldn't even be-â
âWill you two shut up?â One of the kidnappers snapped, throwing his hands in the air. He was holding a gun in one, but even the sight of that couldnât bring Joel out of his anger. âYou've been arguing like this for a fucking hour now! You're supposed to be kidnapped, not using this as coupleâs therapy!â
Lawrence snorted. âWe're not arguing,â he countered. Joel was a little less mad at Lawrence, he decided.
âWeâre bickering, thereâs a fucking difference,â Joel followed up.
âYeah. Bickering is over petty shit. This is as petty as it gets.â Nevermind, he was still fucking pissed.
âWhat the fuck ever,â the man said. âPoint is, you two wonât shut the fuck up, and youâre supposed to be the scared hostages, not bickering-â Joel found himself strangely satisfied at that. â-like an old married couple.â
Joel felt Lawrenceâs hand on his wrist and- oh. He had wiggled himself free. Joelâs mad again, for an entirely different reason now, that Lawrence was the one who managed to pull himself free before he did, but then heâs brought back to how heâs spent the past hour, and he canât really be angry at Lawrence for that, at least. Lawrence needed a distraction, though, and distractions are what Joel did best, right after drinking all the wine in Adamâs apartment, and right before being able to make Spoole blush the most. âWeâre not an old married couple, thank you very much.â
The man groaned. âOh God-â
âJust fucking give up,â another one of the men called out. âWeâre never going to get them to talk about Kovic.â
âIâll get them to talk about Kovic!â he fired back, facing his friends. Lawrence subtly worked on Joelâs ropes and zip ties in the meantime. God, he couldnât wait to be done with this shit. âJust- Fucking watch me alright!â the man yelled, turning back to them and stomping over to Joel, and Joel felt his heart bottom as he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and pulled up out of the chair. The ropes fell off his arms, but his kidnapper didnât even notice, raising a gun and putting the barrel to his temple. Fuck, Joel was not anticipating this. âIâll give you to the count of fucking ten until you tell me where the hell Kovicâs been hiding you and your friends, before I blow your goddamn brai-â
A gunshot stalled his statement. Well, more correctly, a gunshot to the forehead stalled his sentence. Joelâs ears rang as he fell back and away from the now dead body of the kidnapper. Thereâs a few more gunshots, well placed, before Lawrenceâs hands are pulling at the zip ties still snug around his wrists. Joel laid there, before he felt the plastic fall away, and he sat up, rubbing at the reddened, sore skin, and huffing. âWarn me next time you want to blow someoneâs brains out when theyâre right in front of me.â
âYouâre welcome, you know, for saving your life,â he mumbled, standing up and offering his hand to Joel, and even though Joelâs irritation at him was slowly mounting, he took it.
âI could have saved my own life,â Joel snapped, standing on his feet and brushing off his suit pants, staring at the blood on his shirt. Heâd need to get them dry cleaned, again. Great. âIâm not a damsel in distress, Lawrence. I can handle myself.â
Lawrence rolled his eyes, and Joel glared up at him, getting a better look at the damage done; definitely a busted lip, and his cheekbone looked a little bruised. He could see a future in which Adam was showering kisses over his wounds, but that would have to be later. âSure. You would have saved yourself while tied up.â
âShut up, you know what I mean,â Joel said. âAnd youâre fucking derailing, because you know Iâm still mad at you.â
âGod, Joel can we plea-â
âNo! We would have never even gotten into this situation, if you had just remembered our anniversary!â he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Lawrence groaned, running a hand down his face and grabbing their phones off a table nearby, popping the batteries back in. âYou just had a gun to your head and youâre still hung up over that?â
âOf course I am! It was our first anniversary as a group, all eight of us, but you completely forgot, and since I came out looking for your dumb kidnapped ass, I got myself kidnapped, too!â
âAt least we were kidnapped together.â Always the fucking optimistic in the worst times. His phone jingled as it turned on, and immediately begins buzzing with texts heâs missed. Joel could only imagine how bad the others could be at the moment. He wondered how bad the city was going to suffer for it.
âWow, how romantic. Really setting the bar high.â
Joel got a half-hearted glare in return, as Lawrence dialed Adamâs cell phone. He crossed his arms, watching and listening to him to talk to a nearly frantic sounding Adam. It took nearly no time at all for Adam and Bruce to show up to get them, pulling them into hugs and showering them with worried kisses, fretting over the bruises and cuts as they ushered them into the car. Between the four of them, no one mentioned their missed anniversary, the reservations at some fancy restaurant Elyse had made that went to waste. Bruce had put his arm around him in the backseat, running his fingers through his hair and lulling him into some kind of relaxed state, while Adam and Lawrence talked quietly in the front. Joel couldnât call himself mad anymore by the time they pulled into Adamâs spacious garage, and by the time he walked into the apartment, greeted by the other four and their worried kisses and hugs, Joel was just tired, and feeling the effects of being kidnapped and tied up and angry for so long. His shoulders were sore, his wrists hurt, there was a dull ache in his chest that wanted him to still be mad, but he couldnât bring himself to.
Lawrence let him shower first, and after he flopped down on the bed, face in Adamâs too-fluffy pillows and letting himself melt into the mattress, Lawrence slipped into the bathroom. He could still hear the others talking in the living room, especially Spooleâs squeaky worried voice, and the entire apartment still smelled like the coffee Peake had brewed for everyone. He sighed, closing his eyes and shifting around in bed to get more comfortable, before the bed dipped next to him, and he groaned. âI swear to God, just let me sleep.â
âAre you still mad at me?â Lawrence asked, wrapping his arms around his middle, pulling him back against his chest carefully.
Joel made a soft sound. âNo,â he mumbled, resting his hands on top of Lawrenceâs. âIâm not mad at you anymore.â
âI didnât mean to mess up our anniversary.â
âI know.â
âI didnât forget either.â
Joel frowned, rolling over in Lawrenceâs arms and looking up at him. His hands go to his back. âWhat do you mean you didnât forget?â
Lawrence sighed. âExactly what I said. I didnât forget about our anniversary,â he told him. âWhen I left the apartment before, I was going out to get flowers, or something. Look, I didnât have an idea in mind of what to get, so I was winging it. As while I was trying to make it up on the spot, I got kidnapped.â
Joel watched his face; he wasnât lying. He looked sincere and maybe even a little upset at himself? He hummed. âWell⌠I guess thatâs a fair enough excuse,â he said, picking at a stray string on Lawrenceâs Superman shirt. âSorry for⌠getting so mad at you, then. Kidnappings arenât stress free environments.â
He got a chuckle at that. âYeah⌠Theyâre really not, huh?â he asked, looking at him. âAlso, you know how mouthy I can get when Iâm stressed. Trust me, none of what you said bothered me.â
âYeah, I guess thatâs true,â Joel said with a smile. They fell into silence, after that, nice, comfortable silence, listening to the conversation their partners were currently having float into the bedroom, as Lawrence rubbed circles into Joelâs back, soothing him into sleeping. Joel sighed, curling up closer to him, before pressing a quick, soft kiss to his lips. âI love you, Lawrence.â
Lawrence smiled and returned the kiss, moving his hand to Joelâs still-wet hair. âI love you, too Joel. Get some sleep, alright?â
Joel hummed and closed his eyes, letting himself fall asleep, with Lawrenceâs fingers working out tangles in his curls.
(And itâs worth mentioning that the next day, Joelâs not-so-patient patience pays off, because the eight of them go to anniversary breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and suddenly, Joel doesnât think heâs so mad at Lawrence for not-forgetting their anniversary the night before.)
university teachers au? maybe runntag. i could see joel an art history teacher or sm and lawrence teaches computer programming...whatever you'd like tho :) <3
i live for this. thank u friend.Â
runntag professors au under the cut [sfw] [ps it turned out very dialogue heavy lmao]
Joelâs not happy. He got absolutely boned with his classroom assignment for the semester. Heâs only teaching one session of art history, five days a week, and doing professional research on the side, but his classroom is impossibly far from his office and the lot in which he parks his Prius.Â
But things could be worse. He could be the professor that bikes into a tree on the first day of school. No, Joel walks. Joel knows better than to ride his bike around campus, because riding a bike means he canât drink coffee and answer emails on his way to class.
His tiny classroom doesnât have air conditioning, and the Texas summer-end heat is unbearable. So he opens the windows as much as he can and props the door open to get a nice breeze flowing as forty-five students manage to pile themselves into the room. Joel rolls up the sleeves of his button-up and takes a seat on top of the desk in front of the whiteboard.
Oh, yeah, the whiteboard. Joel doesnât have to deal with chalk anymore now that heâs in the computer science building instead of the arts building like last year. He has whiteboards covering the front wall, and a fancy projector hanging from the ceiling, but no damn air conditioning. He wonders whoâs in charge of the money for this department.
Joel checks his watch, and takes his roll sheet out of the folder in his messenger bag when itâs time for class to begin. He opens his mouth to introduce himself, but one more person comes through the door. And itâs not like thereâs a late policy or anything, but this man is in a rush.
âOh,â he states, and Joel turns his head to look at the doorway. âI take it this isnât my Software Design class. Isnât this room B203?â
ââŚYeah,â Joel replies, head tilted in amusement. âWhat, you mean to tell me that you donât want to sit through an hour of Art History 101?â This guy looks pretty old for a student, probably somewhere around Joelâs age. But Joelâs not here to judge.
âThat sounds lovely, but I have a class to teach and I donât know where the hell it is,â the man grumbles. Joelâs pretty sure thereâs a computer lab somewhere on the floor, and thatâs what this guyâs searching for, but he couldnât be fucked to know the room number.
âWell, I wish you luck,â Joel shrugs. âYou might be able to make it back in time to go over the syllabus if you canât find your lost, confused, and afraid students.â The guy just rolls his eyes, but Joel swears thereâs a smile on that face before heâs gone.
-
He comes back again that Wednesday. Joelâs class number sits at a comfy thirty-eight, due to people dropping after the first session. Whatever. Less people breathing at him. Joelâs setting up for class, pulling the screen down and straightening his tie, when the professor steps inside again.
âStill Art History 101,â Joel remarks, raising a brow at the guy. âAnd I hope to god you found your poor students.â
âIâm offended,â he deadpans. âI care deeply about the wellbeing of my students, and would never leave them to fend for themselves, no matter how hungover I am.â
âYou teach class at two in the afternoon.â They both just stare at each other, a few students smirking at the exchange. âYou sound like my kind of alcoholic.â Joel takes a few steps toward the door and holds out a hand. âDr. Rubin.â
âDamn. My students just call me Lawrence,â his colleague smiles as they shake hands. âOr Professor Sonntag.âÂ
âWell, if I were to allow my students to approach me as a buddy rather than a professor, theyâd know me as Joel. By the way, you look familiar. Youâre the guy who crashed into the tree near the gym on Monday, right?â
âI came in here to apologize for interrupting you the other day, and this is how you treat me?â Lawrence asks dramatically. âHave a nice life, Joel. Iâll be in the next room over if you want to harass me some more.â
-
Joel waits in the courtyard outside the building on the third Wednesday of school. Lawrenceâs class gets out at four, so Joelâs waiting near the bike racks, but doesnât head over until Lawrence is there, working on his bike lock.
âJesus, Joel, are you stalking me?â Lawrence asks, genuinely startled but not genuinely creeped out. âWhatâs up?â
âYouâre a computer nerd. So-â
âAnd you like looking at statues of dudes with their dicks out,â Lawrence interrupts him. âWeâve been over this.â
Lawrence is the only person Joel has ever met who can shut him up that quickly. Lawrence is funny in a way that some people might not get. But Joel gets it. And he can keep up with his humor. Most of the time. Itâs only a problem when he gets caught up in how attractive Lawrence is.
âWow. Okay. I was just going to ask, very politely, if you could help me fix something on my personal computer,â Joel explains as Lawrence finishes unlocking his bike. âIâll bring it into my office - or yours - and everything.â
âWhat is something?â
Joel hesitates.
âOne of my games isnât running properly,â he says under his breath. Lawrence cups his ear and raises his eyebrows. âOne of my games isnât running properly and I need you to fix it.â Lawrence chuckles loud and hearty at the request. He heard it the first time, but wanted to make Joel repeat the sentence.
âYou know, for a liberal arts hipster, youâre not so bad,â Lawrence sighs.Â
âIâm a yuppie, not a hipster, you dunce.â
-
They consider each other friends by the beginning of the sixth week. Joel brings lunch for Lawrence on the day he has early afternoon office hours, and Lawrence treats Joel to coffee twice a week.
Lawrenceâs smile is Joelâs favorite thing to see. Joel knows art, and Lawrenceâs smile is art. Lawrence doesnât really know art, but he knows that Joelâs entire being is a masterpiece. Godâs magnum opus. He likes looking at Joel over his coffee mug, watching Joelâs curls fly about as he tilts his head while he talks.
Joel learns that Lawrence nearly went to school for history. He makes a face at Lawrenceâs âdodged a bulletâ jab, then lectures him on how heâs doing just fine with his own degree, thank you very much. In turn, Lawrence makes fun of his Prius and his skinny jeans and his bow ties. Even though heâŚloves all of it.
âDo you realize this friendship exists solely because you fucked up? Really bad? Twice? In one day?â Joel teases him as they sit in Lawrenceâs office after the sun has gone down.
âAre you sure itâs not because youâre using me for my computer skills?â
âNo, itâs obviously because of your handsome lilâ face,â Joel smirks, kicking his feet up on Lawrenceâs desk. Lawrence grimaces at that and avoids the compliment altogether because itâs all in jest. âAnd what about my art history skills? Iâm positive youâre just using me for those.â
âWhat skills? Iâm not impressed unless you can tell me how big Napoleonâs dick was,â Lawrence jokes. Joel tilts his chin down and does his best to look offended.
âBigger than yours,â he snorts, and now itâs Lawrenceâs turn to give him a look.
âDoubt it,â he mutters, then goes to give an actual reply. âWhat a high school answer. How childish. How naive. Youâre better than that.â Joel justâŚpretends to not hear Lawrenceâs first comment, and rolls his eyes at the following ones.
âAt least I donât ride a bike and bring a backpack to my teaching job.â
âI donât have to pay for gas, and I get a good workout biking here every day. Plus, biking with a messenger bag is just impractical. Iâm sorry that youâre so insecure with your own life choices,â Lawrence quips. Joel loves his smart mouth and the lips that frame it.
-
Joel refuses to let Lawrence continue riding his bike to school once the late autumn chill really sets in. So they start carpooling in the morning, and instead of going to get coffee, they take turns brewing it and bringing it in to-go mugs. In an ironic change of events, Lawrence actually starts having to pay for gas. Well, he doesnât have to. But he wants to, because Joel is an amazing human being that he doesnât deserve to have in his life.
âCan we hang out Friday night?â Lawrence asks as Joel drives him home one Wednesday night. Someone had to say it. Theyâd been dancing around meeting up outside of school (and their occasional coffee runs) for weeks now, and the semester is nearing its end. They always mention things that they think would be fun to do together, but never set a day to actually do them.Â
âWhat did you have in mind?â Joel questions as he fiddles with the radio knob. Theyâre at a red light, so he could look over at Lawrence, but he doesnât. Heâs irrationally nervous.
âI thought Iâd let you decide. Anything would be fun,â Lawrence shrugs, holding back on the âas long as itâs with you.â He canât be that cliche. Joel chews on the inside of his cheek, then the light turns green so he can stop feeling bad about avoiding Lawrenceâs gaze. âIt can be a date? Maybe?â Lawrence winces like heâs preparing for a brutal blow to his shins.
âYouâre so confident,â Joel deadpans. âDo you want it to be a date? I want it to be a date.â Heâs smug now, and Lawrence hates it, hates that Joel makes him feel the way he does.
âOf course I want it to be a fucking date, Joel!â he responds, feigning exasperation.Â
âWeâre going to a museum, then Iâm making you dinner at my place,â Joel decides firmly, and grins at Lawrenceâs look of contempt. âIâve been planning this for months, now, bub. Sorry. Thatâs what you get for telling me I could pick.â
âDo you already have the start and end times planned, too? A recipe? A bottle of wine pre-bought? An exact amount of times Iâm allowed to try and hold your hand?â Lawrence rambles when heâs nervous. Itâs charming.
âYes,â Joel says evenly, and it makes Lawrence bark out a laugh. âNo, but what do you mean by trying to hold my hand? Just grab my lilâ claw, dammit!â Lawrence makes a noise of disgust.
âMy hand might get sweaty and youâll think Iâm gross.â
âLawrence,â Joel says fondly. âI already think youâre gross, itâs fine.â He looks at his companion now, gives him a reassuring smile. âIâm excited. Are you excited?â
âScared out of my mind, but excited, yeah,â Lawrence tells him honestly. âGod, this is just like Romeo and Juliet, isnât it?â
âAw, computer guy knows Shakespeare.â
âI went to high school, Joel.â
-
âAlright, I know you all got the email, but I just wanted to remind you guys-â Lawrence starts as his students pack up to leave. âMy office hours tonight between five and six have been cancelled. I may or may not have a date tonight. But that stays between us.â He looks out the hall-side window and sees Joel leaning against the balcony railing, messenger bag slung across his torso and eyes glued to his cell phone. âAnd that guy.â His studentsâ eyes follow their professorâs gaze, and a few of them smile.
âFucking finally,â one in the back comments with a truly exasperated sigh.
Joel was the last person in the office, he had finally done all the descriptions for next weekâs videos and was about to go home. It wasnât till he heard the sounds of someone crying muffled by the door to the bathroom. Turning the knob and found that it was locked.Â
âHey! is everything alright?â He asked as he knocked on the door. He heard shuffling and the faucet turning out as a drowned out voice said heâll be out there, and the voice was their residential anime nerd himself Lawrence.Â
It wasnât long till the door unlocked and his suspicions was correct. Even though he had tried to hide it with his glasses, he saw the tell tale signs, with his red shot eyes and sniffling. âWhatâs wrong Larr, are you alright?â He asked as he moved a bunch of hair from his face. Lawrence went silence, fiddling with his hands and not looking at him directly in the eyes. â NotâŚNothing, I just donât wanna talk about it.â He said as his lip quivered a little bit.Â
The silence was enough for Lawrence to grab Joel and dig his face into the neck of the other man. All joel could do was wrap his arms around Lawrence and rubbed his back.âHush, itâs okay,alright Iâm here.â Joel said as he tried to comfort the bigger man. â You know, Itâs okay to cry. Just let it all out.â
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