This Boy, He is My Friend
Chapter 1:
Thor's concentration on the book in front of him is shattered as a balled up piece of paper bounces off his forehead, and looking up, he sees Fandral grinning at him like an idiot, bursting out into raucous laughter a moment later. Thor shakes his head, only able to feign annoyance a brief second before he too is laughing aloud, balling up his own work sheet and chucking it at his friend's face.
Fandral dodges and his laughter grows louder still.
"Missed!" He practically shouts, and that only encourages Thor to try again, grabbing hold another work sheet and crushing it up. This time it hits his friend square between the eyes.
"HA!" Thor barks loudly.
"Guys, you're gonna get us in trouble." Sif chuckles beside them, writing something in her notebook.
"Oh, come on Siffy, it's not like you're actually studying." Fandral accuses her, still grinning. "You can stop pretending now."
"As a matter of fact…" Sif begins, and is cut promptly off by a balled up piece of paper cuffing her ear.
Thor can't help the peel of rumbling laughter which erupts from his throat then.
They really are going to get in trouble. They're supposed to be studying, the four of them. They'd made a concerted effort even, agreeing to meet up at the university library this morning and actually dedicate at least a couple of hours to, well, work. They needed to, considering all of them were struggling grades wise lately. Well, except for Sif. She'd managed to maintain mostly B's and A's over the first semester of college, but the rest of them were already dipping into the C's and even hovering dangerously close to the D's area.
Thor knew his parents would kill him if they knew, especially Dad. He also knew sooner or later they'd find out.
It was just… he'd been having probably the best time of his life ever since starting here, with all his best friends from high school having joined him, and already making a name for himself on the football team. He'd gotten in on an athletics scholarship, not that he'd particularly needed such. His family was wealthy, and could have afforded to send him to any school. And it wasn't as if Thor hadn't had options. He'd been accepted into a slew of Ivey Leagues, Yale and Harvard and Brown. In the end though, he'd chosen UCLA, since that's where his friends had chosen to go, and he wanted to stay with them. He knew he'd made the right decision too.
He didn't think he could be any happier than he was now. Things were going well. His grades could be better, but he was making waves on the field, his name already being banded about by NFL scouts coming out to see him practice and play. Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral were getting some interest too, and of course, Sif was the top swimmer and fencer on both her teams. He had all his friends, and had begun to even make some new ones. Clint and Tony and Steve and Natasha, they were all good friends already, despite having only just met a few months prior.
Plus there was this cutey he'd spotted walking around the physic's building, named Jane Foster. He hadn't gotten the courage up yet to ask her out, but he would soon. And he liked to think she was interested back, if the way he'd caught her staring at him a few times was any indication.
Life was good, clichéd as that sounded. And, as Thor was discovering now, it was difficult to focus sometimes on dry, boring text books when you were surrounded by the best parts of that life.
"Aww, lighten up Sif!" He rumbles, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him. "We're just having some fun."
"Clearly." Sif snorts, half-heartedly shoving him off. Her surly attitude lasts only an instant though, before she too has a grin breaking out across her face, and it's only a matter of seconds then before all four of them are chucking their respective study notes across the table at one another, laughing uproariously.
Thor supposes it shouldn't surprise them as much as it does when a clear, cold voice, thickly accented, cuts across their good time.
"Excuse me." It says, and the four of them freeze, glancing aside and towards its owner.
Almost immediately, Thor feels himself stiffen, a wave of awkward and mortified nervousness washing through him.
It's a man, well… really more of a boy. He can't be older than 17 or 18. And it strikes Thor almost immediately how incredibly good looking he is, with sharply defined features, a straight, long nose, high and chiseled cheek bones, thin lips and jet black hair contrasting wildly with maybe the palest skin Thor has ever seen. Topping it all off, the kid has eyes so vividly green they seem almost to glow, and the cutting intelligence is plainly apparent within his gaze.
Only… the kid is in a wheelchair, and immensely, painfully thin. It looks like a stiff breeze might snap him in two.
He's glaring at all of them with such clear disdain that it's almost intimidating. Or, it would be, if he wasn't… like he is.
Quickly then, Thor's nervousness gives way to a wave of shame.
"You're either going to have to keep it down or I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The kid goes on, his voice clipped and frustrated. There's nothing remotely friendly about his demeanor. Thor thinks maybe it's made more pronounced by just how sophisticated the kid's voice sounds.
"Uh, sorry," Fandral starts. "but isn't it, like, a rule that only the librarian can throw us out?"
"I work here." The kid tells him flatly, staring at him with unflinching intensity, before moving his gaze around to all four of them. "So as you've no doubt gleaned, I'm well within my jurisdiction to do just that. Either you keep it down and allow the students here who actually came to study to do so, or you leave. I've no issue with calling security if I have to."
"Jeeze, lighten up, will ya?" Fandral says back. "We were just having a little fun."
"And you're preventing others from accomplishing their important work by doing so." The kid shoots back in an instant. "What's it going to be?"
Volstagg snorts, rolling his eyes.
"Don't get your panties in a wad, stick boy." Fandral sneers then, losing his own sense of humor. "We'll be going."
The kid seems unbothered by the insult, his expression unreadable still as he gives a single nod.
"Good." He says, putting his hands on the wheels of his chair and beginning to turn.
"And hey, nice sweater vest!" Fandral spits out at him before he can move away. "Let me guess, you aren't winning any popularity contests lately?"
Thor reaches out and smacks his friend along the shoulder, shaking his head at him.
But the kid's already stopped, looking back over his shoulder at them, his face still without any real emotion.
"Very good." He says. "I'm sure I've never heard the like. Now, kindly do as you said and go, or I'll be calling security."
With that, the kid says nothing more, wheeling himself away, back towards the check out desks.
Only Thor finds himself unable take his eyes off of him, an uneasy guilt working up through his insides as he watches the kid reach the desks, maneuvering himself behind them, and then, with obvious and painful difficulty, he lifts himself out of his wheelchair, his thin arms shaking visibly, even from halfway across the room.
For a moment, it seems, the kid is actually standing on his own, two legs, but it becomes clear he isn't able to maintain it, as he literally falls forward, his hands shooting out to catch himself along the back of a higher up seat, pulling himself forward and dragging himself up into it. He slumps backwards then, his chest heaving as he sucks in deep breathes from the excursion of the effort, his eyes closing a moment.
Christ, Thor thinks, that was awful. To not even be able to walk…
"Man, what an uptight dickbag." Fandral's voice breaks through his thoughts, and Thor's eyes snap to him, watching as his friend begins to gather his books into his backpack, Sif, Hogun and Volstagg already doing the same.
And suddenly an inexplicable anger boils up, nearly choking Thor in it's intensity.
"Fandral, shut the fuck up." He says.
Fandral blinks at him, for a moment clearly taken aback.
"What?" He asks finally. "Oh, I'm supposed to feel sorry for the little jerk just because he's in a wheelchair?"
"You might try being a little more sympathetic." Thor snaps back. "He's just doing his job."
Fandral pulls a face like he can't believe what he's hearing.
"Since when did you become Mr. Sensitive?" He asks, incredulous. "Come on Thor. He was a total asshole."
"Yeah, well… maybe he's just sick of having to tell assholes like us to be quiet." Thor mutters, beginning to stuff his own materials into his pack.
"Look at this! I can't believe it!" Fandral replies. "Man, we better get outta here. I think the cripple's bad attitude is starting to rub off on Thor."
"Fandral, seriously," Sif starts, zipping up her backpack and swinging it over her shoulder. "shut up."
Fandral begins to sputter something else as they all begin to shuffle out of the library, but Thor hardly hears it. He looks back over his shoulder, towards the check out desk, and again sees the kid, helping someone now with their books.
There's an overwhelming urge in him then to go over and talk to the kid, to apologize and… and find out his name, maybe? Thor doesn't know. Only it doesn't feel right, just taking off after all of that.
Something about the kid…
Whatever feeling of happiness Thor had earlier felt seems to have gone completely, looking at him.
It feels now like his heart has sunk down to the very pit of him.