Chapter Text
The first rehearsal was going, well, bad was putting it generously. Jimmy couldn’t remember his lines for love of God when Scott was staring him down like he was something stuck on the bottom of his shoe. He knew he shouldn’t get so worked up about it, but it irked him. Worse, they were practicing flirting scenes, and the way Scott looked at him then, the way Scott’s hand curved around his lower back, the way Scott’s hand felt against his own, it made something in his heart jitter and flap. And that was so, so much worse. It didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t like he had a crush…right? It was just a feeling, and sure it felt like a good one but, but, ok, he didn’t have a but yet, but he would find one! He was sure he would. Because playboys, especially this one, making him feel that way, couldn’t be good. The thought of the word playboy sent the term spiralling round his head, and. He spent the rest of his rehearsal sick to his stomach imagining Scott saying the exact same thing to half the boys in the school, and what made it worse, was that he almost certainly had.
Scott spent his rehearsal utterly conflicted. He didn’t want to liked Jimmy. Happy, smiling, soft and perfect little Jimmy. He wouldn’t. That wasn’t what he was like. He didn’t want these new feelings, ones that made him turn red when Jimmy smiled, or made him want to crush anyone who so much as looked in his direction. He wanted to be the only one to ever look at Jim. He was jealous. That wouldn’t do, he was supposed to the schools fuck-boy. Top heart breaker. Someone who didn’t give two shits about other people. But he gave two shots about the blonde boy opposite him now. The one he couldn’t wait to put his hands all over, in rehearsal and out of it. This boy had done something to him, so he glared evils whenever he had the chance, but in the scenes? He let go. He put his hands on the other’s waist, and looked at him the way he really wanted to, drinking up each line and curve of his face. Practically undressing Jim with his eyes. And he knew Jimmy felt it too. Heck, why didn’t he just charm the hell out of him? He was Scott, he had, quite frankly, a stupid amount of boys under his belt, and wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, so why not just add one more name to the roster? By the end of the rehearsal he had his answer. And it would prove to him and anyone else who doubted, that Jimmy meant nothing to him.
-
Jimmy was so done with all of it. The second the scene ended, he turned straight to the person next to him, who just so happened to be Tango. He started to babble on.
“I just don’t get why he has to be such a dick! Is it that hard to just be nice!?”
Tango didn’t say a word. Not one. Because he was a having a full gay heart attack. Contextually, Tango decided, that was 10x worse than a gay panic. He actually thought he might go into cardiac arrest. Maybe he would fall towards Jimmy. Would Jimmy catch him!? Would he cradle him in his arms as the ambulance was called? Would he worry about Tanngo when he would go into surgery for burst arteries? WOULD HE DONATE HIS BLOOD FOR HIM!?
Tango was trying his hardest not to faint away at that last thought. It then occurred to him that this was a very odd thing to fantasise about. None of the trains of thoughts that followed helped lessen the tomato red blush that had spread all over his face.
“It’s just so infuriating you know and-Tango? You look really red? Are you feeling ok?”
“Wha-oh mhm.”
Jimmy reached up a hand to feel Tangos forehead.
Tango was freaking out because OH LORD HIS HAND IS ON MY FACE AND HE CARES IF IM SICK HE REALLY WILL GUVE ME A BLOOD TRANSFUSION AND WHY ARE HIS HANDS SO SOFT AND WOULDNT THEY JUST FEEL SO GOOD IF THEY WERE HOLDING HIS HANDS AND-
And, Jimmy was freaking out because Tango had gone completely ridged and. Was just staring off into space. Had he done something wrong? Was he ill?
“Ok Tango, just hold on, I’ll call the nurse.”
HE REALLY DID CARE!
Tango was about to explode.
-
It was time for psychology, so Lizzie marched up to her locker, painted pink Sharpay style, but more baby pink with bows than anything else. Unsuspecting, Lizzie tapped her code into the lock.
The second the thin locker door burst open, the hallway was flooded with bright red roses, at least a few hundred or so, and the tsunami sent Lizzie tumbling over onto the ground. Roses weren’t the only thing to spring out of her locker, though.
Joel jumped out, a ring pop in hand.
“LIZZIE!”
“Joel.”
Lizzie looked…pissed for a lack of a better word. She held up what looked like a sculpture, but one that’s face had been shattered off.
“This was for my final sculpt assignment. ITS DUE TODAY AND YOUVE ONLY GONE AND BROKEN IT!”
“…but I bought you flowers?” Joel said timidly holding out the ring pop.
“OH. MY. LORD! IM NOT INTERESTED JOEL, I NEVER HAVE BEEN AND I CERTAINLY NEVER WILL BE!”
“I’m sorry I really didn’t mean to br-“
“Well you did, so just get out of my way, okay?”
“Okay.”
Iskall flew by in a flurry of glee, nabbing one of the roses off the ground. Joel was too busy staring off into space to realise.
-
Joel’s clay model was possibly one of the best things Grian had ever seen. It was a sculpture of Lizzie as a mermaid, her tail curled around a rock, her hair cascading over her shoulder, and, somehow, Joel had managed to carve sea spray, bashing against the bottom of the boulder. It was gorgeous, yet the longing expression on his friend’s face wasn’t.
“How many?” Jimmy piped up.
“What?” Grian asked.
“Roses. How many roses were there? That was insane they exploded out of the locker.”
“512.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“Yeah, I know. Symbolism and stuff.”
“Oh that sounds cute. Wait, how did you afford that many roses?”
“Mowed. Lawns.”
“How much did you get payed for mowing lawns?” Grian asked, incredulous.
“Not much, but if you keep it up for a few months you’ll save up.”
The conversation went silent again.
A few desks back Iskall was leaning onto a wedge of cardboard like his life depended on it.
“What are you doing?” Mumbo asked, knowing it might be end of him.
“It’s a rose! From Joelllllllll!”
“He gave you one!?”
“Oh, no, they were Lizzie, but one definitely fell my way. It’s a sign!”
Mumbo sighed.
“Anyways I’m pressing it so I can keep it in my locket.”
“Of course.”
Mumbo couldn’t help but notice how dedicated Iskall was to this whole spiel. It was such a waste to have all this affection given to someone who was far too busy wooing someone else. On the other hand, Mumbo was glad Joel didn’t return Iskalls burning love because-
Oh fuck.
Absolutely not. Mumbo decidedly, absolutely did not have a crush on his best friend. HE DIDN’T. HIS BRAIN WAS LYING TO HIM.
But once he had that thought in his head he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t not notice every time their hands bumped together while Iskall was pressing his flower, or every brush of the shoulder when Iskall would jump up to grab another piece of cardboard to add to his stack, claiming it would flatten the flower faster.
Mumbo was, in short, fucked.
Further back in the class, another pair of eyes were trained on Iskall, built for a very different reason.
“Joel would never love someone as dorky as him,” Etho scoffed.
“Sure,” answered Gem non-committingly.
“It’s true! He loves me, I know it Gem! He’s just too flustered to have anything to do with me.”
“Whatever you say.”
-
“Pearl, I’m asking for one thing, it’s really not that hard. All i need. You to do is distract him until finals so i can com e out with the top score and get the scholarship.”
“I am, realxxxxx.”
“Right, because from here it looks like he’s still getting top grades.”
“Mumbo, I’m working on it, but this takes time. Just trust me, i have it all figured out.”
“Well what exactly is this that you all figured out then?”
“Scar.”
“Scar?”
“Alright, I’ll dumb this down, have you ever seen, i dunno, a romcom or something?”
“No.”
“That’s depressing. Ok so I’ll let you in on the scoop, in this particular sort of high school romance, we have our sad little loser, cue Grian, and our playboy jock, that’s Scar, although honestly Scott would have been a better fit for this he’s…preoccupied right now. Anyways, a whole plot line happens and they always fall in love, or at least have a mildly entertaining spat. That’s distracting enough, isn’t it?”
“So your great plan is to play matchmaker?”
“God no, don’t be ridiculous that would never work! No, I’ve betted Scar that he wont be able to make Grian fall in love with him.”
Mumbo gave her a confused look.
“Jeez you weren’t listening to a word i said, were you? Once Grian’s in love, I’ll give Scar his money and tell him to do some sort of dramatic break up, and Grian will be all too heart broken to even think of working towards his exams.”
“I mean…”
“Brilliant right?”
“It could work.”
“Thanks, I’ll take it, so just be patient, yeah?”
“Whatever.”
Mumbo sighed. Of course Pearl had come up with the most ridiculous far fetched idea. That sort of thing only ever worked in films or books or some sort of writing posted on a specific fan fiction web forum, so yeah, in his case, it was never going to work.
-
“What about ionic bonding makes you think of molecular structure? Completely different topics here, Scar.”
“What they’re both hard.”
“That;s why i;m here, so just, explain what you dont understand to me.”
“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EXPLAIN SOMETHING I DONT UNDERSTAND GRIAN?!”
“THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT!”
A very aggressive ‘shhh’ from the librarian stopped the shouting, but the arguing continued.
“It’s all too confusing!” Scar hissed under his breath.
“Maybe because you’re not trying.” Grian replied in a huff.
“I am!” Scar protested.
“Well, not hard enough,” Grian snapped.
“It’s not like you’re actually even trying to help me!” Scar cried.
“No, I’m not. I’m basically being forced to do this, remember?”
Did this guy have to be so obnoxious and rude? Fine, maybe Scar wasn’t the best at academics but he didn’t need to rub it in. God, was this best even worth it…nah, all bets are worth it. He liked to have fun, and games like this, guaranteed to be messy, which was basically Scar’s version of fun.
“See, are you even listening to me right now?” Grian cut in.
“Uhhhhh yeah?”
Way for him to ruin the moment.
“Uh-huh, so what did I just say?”
“Ummmm….”
“WHY DO I EVEN TRY!?”