The Light Is Brightest In The Darkness
The classroom is a prison.
A prison built to contain a mob of unruly teenagers while their overseer is an arthritic tree of a man who dresses in expensive suits and drones on about dead people with unpronounceable last names. Meanwhile, the room's wide windows taunts its residents with the taste of sunshine and the promise of freedom.
Sighing, Ludwig rubs his forehead, his eyes watering as he struggles to focus on his paper. Around him, the rustling of papers and scritch-scratch of pen and pencils is punctuated by the muffled whisper of students whispering to each other, panicked over the silly notion that one pop quiz was going to wreck their futures forever. He snorts, blowing his blonde bangs away from his face, and furrows his brow, ice-blue eyes narrowing.
Knowing them, it probably will.
He moves onto the next question, filling in "a".
"Class," the teacher announces in a wheezing voice.
The students didn't even try to stay silent. Several "Oh shits!" rang out from the back while the steady stream of pencil scratching erupts in a hurricane as people rush to scribble down some bullshit answers. Ludwig stares at the last question, mind blank, then shakes his head, raking his pencil against the paper as he selects "e".
"Pass your quizzes up the rows."
Ludwig grimaces, reaching over his shoulder as the person behind him shoves the papers into his hand. With just a passing glance at the top quiz as he hands the pile to the person in front of him, he knows that person has failed.
"We have a new student," states the teacher.
"Huh?" is the resounding response throughout the room as several students cock their eyebrows, angling their heads in confusion. Ludwig sets his pencil on the desk and leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his neck. The students whisper to each other, shooting glances at the door as if expecting something terrible to barrel through it and massacre them all.
"Mr. Vargas," the teachers calls out with a tremulous voice. "You can come in now."
The door swings open and a collective intake of breath is heard as a lithe young man with brown hair steps into the room, wearing the formal black uniform of Tizenot Academy. "Hello," he greets with a slight bow as he steps into the room. "Nice to meet all of you." He has a pronounced, but not unpleasant, accent. In fact it was almost musical. A shy smile is on his sweet, heart-shaped face, his caramel-colored eyes wide and warm. Some of the girls start to chatter excitedly to each other, prompting a few of the guys to give the new student a death glare.
Ludwig rolls his eyes and leans forward, resisting the urge to put his head down on the desk. He is exhausted. Last night's homework load was obscene, and that was after a stressful Chemistry experiment involving Sodium and a near miss when a student overheated the test tube and nearly created a bomb. Vargas catches his eye, prompting Ludwig to raise his eyebrows at the young man. What? he mouths.
Vargas look away, his expression hidden.
"Do you want to introduce yourself?" asks the teacher. Vargas nods and clears his throat, the large curl of hair that sticks out to the side, bobbing up and down with the movement.
"Sure," he says. "I'm Feliciano Vargas, but you can call me Feli, if you want." He flashes the class a bright smile, staring at Ludwig again before looking away with a speed that makes the blonde wonder if it was just his imagination. The teacher nods, the liver-flecked flaps of skin dangling from his neck quivering.
"Does anyone here have any questions for Mr. Vargas here?"
Lucente-a buxom girl with auburn curls framing her angled face-raises her hand, a wry smile on her face. The teacher nods. with a giggle and a coquettish bat of her eyelashes, she leans forward, lacing her hands together. "Where do you come from?"
He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm from Venice," he states, "though I was born in Rome."
She nods, her smile widening. "So that explains your accent."
He chuckles. "Ve, it does."
Another girl raises her hand and the teacher nods.
"What's your marital status?"
Several groans are heard throughout the class. Ludwig lets out a soft sigh and rolls his eyes. The clock hanging above the door moves at a sluggish pace. Each second, a hundred years. Feliciano giggles, his face flushing red.
"I-uhm… Single? At least I hope I'm single, because I was last time I checked."
The girl pumps the air with a fist, looking as if she had won the lottery. Another girl raises her hand.
"Is this, by any chance," the teacher snarks, "a question pertaining to rituals of human courtship?" He adjusts his theck, horn rimmed glasses. "Because we don't have time for that."
The girl's hand sinks down to her desk, cheeks ablaze. A few snickers break out, causing the teacher to give them a rheumy-eyed glare that silences the offenders. "Any questions not pertaining to Mr. Vargas's love life?" he drawls.
A tanned girl with brown hair subdued into two, low-hanging pigtails raises her hand. The teacher sighs and nods his head.
"Yes, Chella?"
"Do you have an equally cute brother, by any chance?"
Unbelievable. Ludwig buries his face in his hands, exhaustion and exasperation combining to make his head throb. Feliciano folds his hands behind his back and hangs his head, taking an abrupt interest in the swirling patterns of the stained wood floor.
"I… no…" He looks up, his smile now a grimace. Chella raises an eyebrow, mouth forming an "o" of confusion.
"Eh?"
Feliciano sighs and slumps his shoulders, craning his neck towards the teacher. "I don't feel well, ve. Can I take a seat, ah-Mr…?"
"Riesenberg," the teacher answers. "And yes, you may." Feliciano gives him a grateful nod and makes his way over to the empty seat next to Ludwig.
"You don't have to sit there," says Lucente, flashing Ludwig an unpleasant sneer. "There's an empty seat right here." She motions at the empty chair in front of her. Feliciano shakes his head, holding his hand out with a faint smile.
"I'm good, thanks," he replies. Lucente's candy-pink lips twist downwards in a frown and she lifts her chin.
"You sure you want to sit by, him?" A few people chuckle and she sinks back in her chair, arms crossed, a smug smirk on her face. Feliciano tilts his head, eyes wide, and glances at Ludwig.
"Him?"
"Uh, yeah. Him." Her nostrils flare as she rolls her eyes. Ludwig deadpans and resists the urge to retort with an equally scathing remark of his own. No sense in getting blood out of a rock. He's past the point of caring by now.
"Sure, why not?" Feliciano says.
Lucente gives him a stare that was one part disgusted, one part surprise, and a hundred percent pitying. "You really want to associate with Beilschmidt? The loser of-"
"Lucente." The teacher gives her a steely glare. She jerks back, snapping her gaze forward.
"Yes?"
"Please, stop talking so we can continue on with class. Everyone's waiting on you."
Lucente dips her head, her cheeks hollowed as she bites them. "Sorry," she grumbles, staring at the surface of the desk. The teacher nods and hobbles out of his chair, holding a trembling hand out behind him towards the blackboard.
"Now, I want all of you to get out your books and open to page one-fifty and read the section, answering all the evaluation questions at the end."
"They're not very nice to you here, are they?" Feliciano whispers to Ludwig as the teacher writes down the assignment on the blackboard in yellow chalk. Ludwig presses his lips into a thin line, shooting the brunette a look. "We can be friends though, if you feel like it."
Ludwig snorts as he flips through the pages.
"What about it?" Feliciano continues with a hopeful smile on his face. A muscle in the blonde's jaw twitches.
No. Not happening.
Feliciano hums, leaning to the side so he is staring at Ludwig's book. "I don't have mine because I had no clue as what to bring. Mind if we share for today?" Ludwig takes a deep breath, counting to ten before releasing it in a slow, steady stream.
"Sure," he says, massaging the bridge of his nose. Feliciano opens his mouth, but is cut off as Ludwig gives him a severe look. "But don't get the wrong idea."
The brunette blinks. "What?"
"We're not going to be friends."
Feliciano hrrmms, tapping his chin with his finger. "Are you sure about that?"
Ludwig groans, shaking his head. "Yes, I am sure," he snaps. His fingers curl inwards, his nails cutting into the flesh of his palms.
"Your last name is Beilschmidt, right?"
Ludwig resists the urge to scootch his desk away from the brunette. "Yes, so?" He does not like the look on Feliciano's face. It gives him the chills.
"Would you happen to be Ludwig Beilschmidt?"
He contemplates the wisdom of answering the question truthfully before conceding that lying would be a moot point. Beilschmidt wasn't what one would call a common surname. "Yes, I am. What does it have to do with me?"
"Oh, nothing. Just wondering."
Yeah, right.
Fifty minutes later and Ludwig can not be more relieved to be done with History class. He is sick and tired of Feliciano prodding his shoulder, asking him for help with the questions, and sick of the looks the others slipped him when they knew he was watching. He tightens his grip on his duffel bag, weaving his way through the maze of people that crowds the corridor.
"Oi, Schmidt! Heard that the newest teacher was a former psychiatrist! Going to visit her for medications?"
Ignorant, stupid, cruel. He continues forward, not bothering to avert his gaze and give them any attention.
"Look at Herr Earwig, hah. What a loser."
"Does he ever smile?"
"Why couldn't of it been him?"
He grits his teeth.
"Why doesn't he just leave?"
Keep calm.
A stray foot makes him stumble, but he is able to maintain balance. Not bothering to look back at the person who tried to trip him, he hastens his pace, making his way down the winding staircase and through more hallways, ignoring the occasional taunt, to his destination-the Boys' Dormitories.
Down the hall, to the right, Room 213. He opens the door with a relieved sigh and throws his bag on his bed, rumpling the matchbox job he did on it, and makes his way to the cluttered space that serves as the mini-kitchen/closet/living room. If he didn't get a cup of strong, black coffee in the next two seconds, he'll-
"Hi'ya Ludwig!"
A beaming Feliciano leans against the linoleum countertop that was buried underneath a neatly stacked mountain of dry food, his fingers entwined around a heavy ceramic coffee mug. Ludwig freezes, eyes wide, at a loss for words.
Feliciano takes a sip from the mug and makes a face. "Did you get this from the convenience store or something? It tastes… cheap."
It takes a moment for Ludwig to gather himself enough to form a sentence. "You! what are you doing here?" he demands. Feliciano slides his chin upwards, holding the mug out to the side with one hand.
"I'm going to guess, I'm your roommate, ve?"
Ludwig bristles, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. There is no way this annoying, little… He takes several deep breaths. Keep calm. "Please, don't lie to me. You're not my roommate. Your stuff isn't even here."
Feliciano sighs. "Yeah… They're late." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Herakles and Sadiq promised me that they'd have my stuff here by now, ve. But, they probably might have gotten into a fight and-" His eyelids flutter. "I'll guess I'll be giving them a call later to make sure my stuff will be here by the end of the day, because-" He picks up a cup of instant ramen. "The food at the restaurants here is overpriced for how 'meh' the food is, and this-" He holds the cup out in front of Ludwig. "Can we please not?"
Yeah… Meh GerIta fic is meh. I hope this story improves with quality as I continue… But, in the meantime, I'm going to be taking down "Pleroma" so I can make all the hardcore revisions I need to make to it.
Anyways, you know the drill. No hatin', don't be afraid to state your opinion, sorry for any OOCness… Yep. Yep. Yep.