Chapter Text
Hunched over at his desk, pencil scribbling away at the paper. Nothing of importance was being written down, but Topher did not want to be sent back to the principal's office for idly staring at the white board. To compromise, he pretended to write. A mess of not-thought-out scribbles taken over the entire page.
A hand propped up to his chin to keep himself look present and to avoid falling asleep in class. Boredom started to hit him. His eyes gazing over to the clock hanging on the wall above the babbling teacher. Only ten minutes until lunch time. Practically an eternity.
An audible exhale came out from his nose. He was half tempted to fling the pencil at the teacher's head to get sent out of the classroom. Maybe he could skip his way to the principal's office and hide away in his locker instead. Principal Scudworth was too much of an airhead to know what actually goes on in a teenager's brain.
His thoughts were interrupted when a paper ball was thrown askew at his head, landing atop of his fake notes. He scrunched his nose up in irritation, his head whipping around the class of students to spot the culprit. To no avail, everyone was playing innocent. An eye twitched as he slowly looked back at the crumpled up paper in between his arms. Passing notes in class should have been left in the past, every normal person just sends a quick text. Still, curiosity got the best of him and he unraveled the paper.
Nothing.
Well, not if you count the poor fat ink blot that took up the entire space in the middle, nothing legible was written on the paper.
He did not understand it. Growing frustrated as to why someone would throw a useless paper at him. To get his attention? Surely not. To piss him off? They achieved their goal. He grit his teeth and crumpled the paper back into its original form. A useless, misshapen ball. His impulse thoughts urged him to shove the paper in his mouth and spit it right in the face of whoever threw it at him.
Right when he opened his mouth to do so, the bell rang.
Grumbling to himself, he shoved the paper ball into his pocket. He was set on keeping it until he found the culprit. Shoving his notebook and pencil in his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. He shoved past the students that were scrambling to lunch, his angry eyes scanning over each person he came across.
Van Gogh? No. He’s too much of a pussy crybaby to try and start anything with him. Ivan the terrible? Possible. That wretched scumbag could start fights with anyone for no reason. He made a small mental note to not cross that possibility off his list. Harriet Tubman? Very progressive of women wanting to start fights with their opposing gender, but it couldn’t be her. Too much of a people pleaser.
His agitated thoughts came to a halt when his face slammed first into somebody. Backing up and holding his nose at the sudden, sharp pain. That reached his breaking point. He inhaled, raising a finger up to the person that ran into him. Opening his mouth to let out every ounce of anger that built up in him this morning.
“Topher! There you are. Did you get my message?”
He closed his mouth.
It was Abe.
His thoughts came to a full stop as he looked up at him with a blank expression. Message? He always had his notifications turned on. That and he checks his phone constantly.
Wait.
Abe was distracting him from his real task.
“What message?”
He practically spat. His voice was laced with irritation.
Abe did not pick up on Topher’s irritable attitude. Oblivious to the fact that the shorter man was in a hurry.
“You know? The message! I passed you a note.”
Topher stared at him. Note? That means that Abe was the culprit. He reached into his pocket and shoved the paper ball in Abe’s face, or at least attempted to with the height difference.
“THIS WAS YOU?” he yelled out. His eyes shooting daggers at Abe.
Despite the obvious of Topher about to blow a fuse, Abe beamed at him.
“You did! So is it a yes or a no?”
Topher could swear he saw red in his vision. How much of an idiot was Abe? He could go on a list that could be endless. The death grip on the ball did not loosen, instead his fingers worked feverishly to open up the paper. He almost tore through it before he could reveal the ink splat to Abe. His finger pointing at that page and poking at it with emphasis.
“A yes or no to WHAT, Abe? An oversized blue blob? Do you think I’m an idiot? I know you did this to piss me off. You distracted me in a learning setting and now I’m probably behind! I missed the last ten minutes of class because of this! Now how am I going to explain to the teacher next time when I see him that I don’t have the notes to whatever he was instructing about? All because you needed to pester me. If this is your idea of a joke, it’s NOT funny.”
Finally, he took a breath. He needed that. His chest heaving in and out. It was as if he had finally popped that black head that was deep in his skin on his upper lip. All that pent up anger he stirred within himself this morning finally released into a rant.
Not that he cared for class all that much, but Abe needed to feel guilty for what he had done.
However, Abe was not fazed by Topher’s outburst. Instead, he looked at the paper with a puzzled expression. Reaching out to take it out of Topher’s hands.
“Aw. The drawing must’ve smeared.”
Before Topher could go off about Abe stripping the paper away from his hands, he paused in his tracks upon hearing this. He blinked.
“I’m sorry- what? What do you mean drawing?”
Abe sighed, “I drew a picture of a lion,” his fingers tracing over the ink blot. “I was in art class and it was just a small doodle at first, but then Frida said it looked really good! So I added a lot of detail and heart into the lining and shading. Frida even gave me some pointers.”
He turned the page over with a smile, drawing out with his finger where the lion once was. “It was really cool! I wanted to wait to show you, but I was so excited! So, I asked for a bathroom pass so I could toss you the note.”
While Abe was standing there, very giddy, Topher was the exact opposite. Looking up at Abe as if he was the biggest idiot on the planet. He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.
“Then why didn’t you send me a picture of it through texts? You made a scene in the class with this paper throwing act,” his hand sliding down his face. “And you never specified the yes or no part of it? What does that have to do with a drawing?”
More importantly, why did Abe have the need to show him in the first place? Topher did not care about some silly thing he did in art class. Was Abe fishing for compliments? Because he should know better that Topher would give harsh criticisms on the drawing. Not that Topher was an artist, but he is very preachy on educating others.
“Oh! I wrote down, ‘do you like it? Yes or no.’ And then you would circle an answer and give it back to me. Dinger, I was really proud of this one. How did it make such a mess? You can’t even see it.”
His pouty face struck a nerve in Topher. Not in the ‘oh, I feel so sorry for you.’ But in the way that it was annoying to watch unfold. His eyes glanced over to Abe’s backpack, which seemed to have a dark blue spot in the corner. It was dripping.
Topher pointed a finger, “Perhaps if you were more observant of your belongings, I think you’d find the problem there.”
Abe blinked at him and lifted his arms up, spotting the forming puddle below his feet.
“Aw man! Leaky pen again?”
Implying that this is a repeating occurrence. He slung his backpack around and unzipped the front, his hand reaching inside and fishing for the pen. Topher stood there and watched the fiasco, unamused.
Finally, Abe pulled his hand out of the bag, which was now covered in ink. The pen held in his grip as it leaked down his arm.
“That explains so much! No wonder why you can’t see the drawing.”
It was hard for Topher to watch how slow Abe was. He shook his head at him, “This is why I use pencil. Graphite doesn’t leave a mess.”
He felt like he was scolding a child. Once again, Abe was not offended by his shorter friend's comment. Only nodding in acknowledgement.
“Maybe I can find a pencil on the floor in the hallway. People are always dropping them. I really gotta stop using pens. When you’re right, you’re right. Thanks, Topher.”
While most of the time Abe got on his nerves, he cannot help when the other strokes at his already massive ego. A small smile creeped up his lips.
“As always. I like to be informed and observant,” he puffed his chest out in gratitude before deflating. “But Abe, seriously, don’t throw shit at me in class, or ever. Just send me a text. You have a phone.”
Not that Topher wanted Abe blowing up his phone, but he would rather have that to get his attention than whatever this was.
“Oh, right! I always forget I have this thing. I hardly use it, I like face to face interactions, you know?”
Topher was giving a look that could kill.
Abe gulped, “Text it is then! I’ll text you next time. Good thing we got this resolved. Still living up to my clone father! I knew I wasn’t losing touch.”
“Right,” Topher rolled his eyes. He was not going to stand there and enable Abe on his delusions.
They stood there in silence for a split moment.
“So… Lunch? We should head over there quickly before the bell rings. I don’t want to sit in class with an empty stomach. I did that once and it was not good. I felt like I was dying! And my stomach kept gurgling and making loud noises and,” he leaned down to whisper, “Some of the girls thought I passed gas.”
Topher shoved him away with a look of disgust, “Okay, I get it. Too much information. Let’s go if that’ll make you stop talking.”
Abe perked up, “Oh, right, sorry Toph!” Laughing it off as he walked alongside him, almost forgetting about the paper in his hands. He balled it back up, staining the paper more with his ink covered hands.
“Here,” he handed it down to Topher, “I don’t want it. It doesn’t have my cool lion drawing on it anymore, so you can have it.”
He grumbled, “Gee, thanks,” an obvious tone of sarcasm.
But Abe smiled and kept walking along. Topher could not stand when Abe did not pick on social cues at times. Sure, it is convenient, but when he is being blatantly rude to him, Abe has a hard time catching on. Sometimes Topher has to spell it out for him. How frustrating.
With the paper ball back in his hands, he stared at it as they walked to the cafeteria. There was something stupidly endearing about the gesture of Abe letting him keep it. He hated that feeling that bubbled in his stomach.
It was a waste anyhow, the paper did not have this so-called lion drawing that Abe claimed he drew. Not to mention the paper was a wrinkled up ball, another tree dead for nothing. However, he’s never been passed a note before. It could be a keepsake.
Topher paused at the entrance of the cafeteria doors, watching Abe take the lead. He stared at the item in his palm, brows knit together.
He tossed the paper in the trash.