James - Encke

Chris – Keeler

Ned – Ethos (in my head he's a sweet talking little upstart)

There are a few rules at boarding school that are apart of the secret code of the student body, and one of them is do not fall for the only friend you make, because when it ends it ends badly. After a month James had failed to follow that particular rule completely. Not that he meant to, but he couldn't help himself. Chris was a hurricane that pulled you along dizzyingly fast before you knew you'd been taken, a rollercoaster ride that was both exciting and terrifying and kept you gripping the edge of your seat; not because you were afraid of falling off but because you didn't want to let go.

They walked into history class to sit in their respective chairs, and a person in front turned around in his seat to grin at Chris.

"Dude, cut your fuckin' hair, you look like a little girl."

"Ned! Hey, when'd you get back!?"

"Last night, boy I tell you, Moon's one heck of a place to vacation. Rocks, rocks and more rocks, real good if you're a geologist, sucks if you want to have fun."

Ned nodded with his chin over at James, "Who's this?"

Chris reached over to brush James's shoulder of invisible dirt, blinking prettily.

"This is James, he's a filthy colonial and we're not supposed to talk to him."

"I dunno Chris, he's a rather fine specimen, I don't think I'd mind the filth he has on offer." Ned cocked his head to the side, like a scrutinising puppy. "Does everyone in the colonies look like you?"

James stared at him wide eyed before realising he was being addressed.

"Um... no?"

"Shame. So, do either of you understand what the fuck that english paper is about?"

"I think it has something to do with societies rejection of something or rather. You know, in my last essay I wrote a page in the middle on the inefficiency of coconut bras, and I got 90%? The bastard didn't even read it."

"Or maybe he did read it, and the subject matter was why you got the mark?"

"Touche, my friend, touche."

Chris didn't really have many friends at the school, which was fine with James as he'd never been good with conversation. Most of the time he just let Chris chatter away about things that made no sense, well, probably made perfect sense but James was too busy watching his hand movements when he got excited about something, watch the way he sprawled all his sheets of homework across three desks and did them all at once instead of one at a time, redefining the meaning of the words efficient and chaos at the same time.

Not that efficient meant correct. Half the time he got the answers wrong, but just laughed it off and somehow managed to pull through each test with top marks while James struggled over each sheet, meticulously checking and double checking his answers, studying late into the night. Make your parents proud make them proud make them proud, proud, proud. Show them all you're not just some colony lowlife.

In the front, the History teacher – what was her name again? - had already set up class and was speaking about something or rather, at which James decided it was time to pay attention to what was being taught.

"...the Colterons attacked colony 8 in 2066-"

When he spoke out it was a knee jerk reaction, automatic response to a wrong answer.

"It was '67"

"Excuse me?"

James blinked, not realising he'd spoken aloud. Chris nudged his shoulder, forcing another response out.

"Um, they um, they attacked in 2067"

"Right. And you think you know better than the textbook?"

"Yeah. I was there when it happened."

The teacher opened and shut her mouth while everyone in the class turned to stare at James, making him feel even more alienated than before. He looked down at his notes, feeling eyes boring into the back of his skull, everyone staring at him like some sort of freak.

Then Chris spoke up, thankfully averting the attention away from James and to himself.

"I think what James meant to say was that you're a twat and he's not."

Something like relief flitted across the teachers face before she rearranged her features into outrage, "EXCUSE ME?"

Chris calmly waved a hand at the teacher, "You're a twat," and followed the swooping movement, like a small low flying bird – really had to get the sparrow analogy for Chris's hands out of his head before he said something stupid - to gesture at James "and he, is not."

Chris walked out with a months worth of detention.

"You didn't have to do that"

"You know, most people here say thanks and just get over it." Ned piped up, before waving and heading off in another direction.

They came to a pause in the hallway, having to separate for their different classes when Chris looked at James with something other than a joke on his face for once. Concern?

"Were you actually there? For the attacks?"

James nodded, and Chris's eyebrows slid down his face in a weird little v before he stepped forward and enveloped James in a hug, muttering something about 'those bastards' but James was so surprised all he could focus on was how warm Chris was and how tight he held on for someone so tiny.

"GET A ROOM!"

"Faggot!"

Chris let go to call back at the comments and James had to stop himself from reaching forward to pull him back. Instead he stuck his hands down his pockets and looked at the floor.

"Um, thanks. And get over it."

Chris's smile was blinding.