Hellooo!

The two stories I mention in this chapter are The Story of An Hour by Kate Chopin and The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. They're both pretty remarkable, in my opinion. I like things that are ironic and dark.

Thank you three for reviewing the last chapter - it's so much fun to write when someone enjoys reading it. I hope I can make this fic a delight to read. :)

Onward!


Chapter 2

The week completed as most do, in excruciatingly dull stretches interspersed between periods that passed too quickly to have adhered to the laws of space-time (including gaming, study halls, and sleeping.) Eddy, Ed and Double Dee saw the movie they'd been planning on all week, an offbeat drama that was half thriller and half bizarre comedy. Eddy was livid that the only flash of feminine skin in the movie was the one shown in every commercial, while Eddward was delighted by the peculiar delivery of the lines and the subtle moral at the end of the story. Ed commented gleefully on every car explosion and slung popcorn through the air as if acting out a strange and buttery interpretive dance.

May and Lee gave the three some trouble on Monday afternoon at the gas station and got the whole group of them kicked out. (The cashier had told Eddy he could come back to buy Trojans for his girlfriend once he was tall enough to ride roller coasters, and Double Dee was amazed that the police hadn't been called at the screaming fit that had ensued as Ed dragged the shortest of the trio back towards the cul-de-sac.)

Tuesday was a little tense - Eddy made mention of the sitcom everybody was watching on Wednesday offhandedly, and Eddward had mumbled a reply that implied it was unlikely that he'd come over. He could tell from the grunt and the following silence that Eddy didn't like that much.

Kevin had only crossed Double Dee's vision a handful of times in the past few days despite the fact that his house was straight across the cul-de-sac - he realized that without observing the redhead's appearances on a normal week, he had nothing to compare it to, of course, and went about his life. There was no need for apprehension, he reminded himself; Kevin had proven to be of no threat when they'd sat down to pour over material the week before. A little unenthusiastic, sure, but non-threatening.

On Wednesday, Eddward's cardiovascular system elected to simulate a minor heart attack anyway.

Arriving home as swiftly as possible, Double Dee strode quickly around, straightening vases and dusting windowsills in anticipation of his student's arrival. His masochistic side steered him to the fridge to grab a soda and he struggled to not think about the sodium and dyes as they bubbled down his throat. Being written off as an oddity was something he was quite accustomed to, but trying to sell an entire academic subject and all of its potential for enrichment to the epitome of cool, adolescent disinterest gave Edd a tiny chance of success.

That was what frightened him.

At around 3:15, there were three solid knocks at the door. Double Dee turned from where he sat, hands clasped in front of his spread of books and notecards, and let out a puff of air before hurrying to get the door.

Kevin's bike was propped between the siding and the neatly-trimmed hedges, and he gave a small, cool smile. "Sup, Dorko?"

"Oh, the ceiling, the stratosphere, et cetera. The usual."

The only response to the genius's quip was the peaking of one red eyebrow. The jock shouldered past him, plodding into the house. "So what've ya got lined up for today?"

"A variety of things, actually." Eddward followed him to the couch, seating himself momentarily before springing back up like he'd sat on a needle. "Oh - would you like something to drink?"

"Gimmie a Diet this time, actually." He threw one long arm over the back of the sofa, reclining. For some silly reason, Double Dee was surprised by his request, and he trotted into the kitchen to retrieve a can from the fridge. He wasn't aware of Kevin's vaguely displeased look until he had placed the unopened can on the coaster nearest his guest and took his seat. When he met Kevin's gaze, the redhead glanced at his pop and then at Eddward's half-empty one. "What? I'm not good enough for a bendy straw?"

"Certainly," the genius squawked after a split-second of silent disbelief. "My apologies! I imagined you'd find it undignified…"

Back on his feet, Double Dee stared at Kevin, and Kevin stared back. A flush rose from his shoulders all the way to his forehead as Eddward hurried back to retrieve a yellow-and-white striped straw from the Ziploc baggie in the cupboard. The athlete looked like he wasn't going to shift from his current position, so with a quick, unsure glance, Edd stuck it in himself.

"All right, then." Seating himself for the final time, darn-it, he clapped his small hands together. "Shall we begin?"

"Lead the way, man," came Kevin's reply.

-x-

The afternoon passed easily enough: Double Dee would read a story through, then pause and wait for Kevin to supply some sort of reaction. He would then go back through the words, pausing to observe possible double meanings and to explain how the author may have been influenced by his own life in the adding of particular details. He made sure to look up at Kevin's face as he asked what Kevin thought, and forcing the athlete to give believable responses masked the nerves that vibrated just under his skin at forcing such assertiveness. A story about a woman who died of a feeble heart was revealed to have died from realizing that her husband hadn't been killed in a train wreck. One that chronicled a woman's decline into madness was actually an argument by the author against "the rest cure," which Double Dee explained as women being forced to lie down for weeks with as little stimulation as possible to help with their anxiety. "You're serious? Actual doctors told people to do that?"

"Frequently," Double Dee responded.

"That's … pretty fucked up."

While nonplussed with the redhead's wording, the genius found himself smiling at the mild interest roused in Kevin's voice. "Some fiction is just that. Other stories such as this one were an attempt to disagree with accepted medical or political facts."

Grunting, the athlete shrugged. "I see where you're coming from." His gaze lingered on the blank television screen across the room, expression betraying little.

Not fully satisfied that he was holding his guest's attention, Double Dee cleared his throat and turned his focus back to the small print on the pages. "Have you, by chance, ever heard of Margaret Atwood?"

"Nope," said the redhead curtly. There was a shifting of fabric, though, and the jock had settled closer. Taking this as an invitation - or at least, not as outright rejection - Eddward turned to the table of contents and then back into the thick of the pages.

-x-

"So what do your buddies think of our study arrangements?"

Eddward was gathering up pop cans and straightening his notecards. He turned to look at his neighbor, leaning against the wall beside the door. "Ed and Eddy think I'm working on an essay for the Peach Creek Chronicle. They hold a contest every month."

"Why'd you lie to them?"

The petite male's heart rate increased and he felt his grip tighten on the can in either hand. He blinked.

"I…" Swallowing thickly, he forced his brain to construct an answer. "Well. You know what a short fuse Eddy has. If he found out that I was spending time with you, I would never hear the end of it."

"Yeah," Kevin replied, something impossible to interpret in his eyes. Eddward turned, tossing the cans in the recycling bin under the sink. Kevin had his shoes on when he returned and was standing on the threshold, looking out into the dark.

"Kevin?"

The redhead peered over a broad shoulder at Double Dee.

"Excuse me for being forward, but…" The jock turned around, chewing on his lip as his tutor fidgeted. "If this is an attempt to make up for my book a few weeks ago, it isn't necessary. I don't harbor any hard feelings. I apologize for yelling at you as well - it was uncalled for."

"It's not about that, man." Double Dee blinked, surprised, but the figure on his doorstep said no more. Finally, he turned and grabbed his bike handles, starting down the sidewalk. "Did you mean it?"

"Uh- what?"

Kevin leveled his stare at the genius again. "What you said to me that day. Did you mean it?"

Startled beyond any ability to mask himself with politeness, Eddward murmured, "Yes."

Kevin sniffed in amusement. "Then don't apologize." He hopped on his bike despite the fact that his house was around three hundred feet away. "Next Wednesday, dork."

Eddward shut the door and stared at his socks. His throat was dry, but swallowing didn't help. Electing to have a cup of tea (for his throat, not his nerves, of course,) he went back into the kitchen.


Only Somewhat Irrelevant To The Story: I want to bone Kevin so hard.

Review, please? :3