Okay. No long note from me this time, because it is way too fucking late for me to be up doing this and honestly my brain is toasted at the moment. Also I have basically run out of things that I remember that are worth insulting of the top of my head, except for this:

Apparently the directors are considering consideration of a spin off series in a few years if the ratings stay good, and who else thinks that that should totally be a buddy movie about Caroline and Damon's adventures a hundred years or so in the future? (Because they are the only characters who would have a chance of surviving for more than five minutes if the show were happening for real, and so would still be around then, and also I love me some skintight sci-fi outfits. Caroline would accessorize the fuck out of that.) I want to take a moment to appreciate the two of them, as a couple or not, because I think they have a great relationship. Sure, it had its issues (see the classic reference guide The Vampire Diaries: Morality? Eh. ) but now that Caroline is all VampireStrong (wouldn't those make great recruitment posters? I'm pretty sure Damon will try that one sometime soon, because Stefan can't really complain if they volunteer), she's still got enough personality flaws to be interesting-while being strong enough to kick Damon's prettyboy ass. And he obviously knows that, and she knows he managed to control her before but also knows (because he controlled her before and kept her as a sex slave and made her wear bad flowery scarf thingies to cover up the signs of that good old vampire lovin) his flaws, which means that what relationship they have now is pretty much entirely equal. I feel like they respect each other, and that's something that could get a lot more airtime these days. Isn't that a lot nicer than the idea of your partner being a crazy strong vampire, who could cherish and protect you, but could also treat you like shit?

Anyway.

So not such a short note, really.

this chapter contains Matt and a cat and DIALOGUE. Yes, "finally."

I forgot about it, okay?

...

Tyler wasn't certain why Geometry had been created, but he was fairly sure the invention had taken place in hell.

It was too hot, and beside him Matt had little fingertip in his mouth and his jaw about six inches off or the desktop, because it was supported on a forearm the elbow of which was supported rather uncomfortably on Tyler's left hand. He had been trying to take notes for a while, but with his wrist quite effectively pinned it was rather more difficult to manipulate the paper, and he had fallen back to simply staring at the pages in case latent powers might cause the right numbers to appear there. Matt made little mumbling noises ever now and then, chewing absentmindedly on his little finger, which was something he only did when he was sincerely unaware that he was half-asleep, and Tyler knew better than to either try to mutter something to wake him—bringing down the wrath of Mrs. Dodd upon them—or to shift him off. That would result in Matt simply reaching out and pulling Tyler's arm back again, and before Tyler knew it he would be facedown on the tabletop with a still barely unconscious Matt using his shoulder as a pillow. There were some things that the inmates of fifth period really didn't need to see.

So he kept staring at his notebook, blinking hard to push back infectious slumber himself each time Matt made another sleep sound under his breath. It wasn't as though anyone else was paying attention; even the scrawny straight-A girls from the field hockey team at the next table up were whispering genteelly among themselves, getting a kick out of the aberrational breaking of rules. Everyone was talking quietly, making a low-level layer of chatter beneath the teacher's drone that seemed underwhelming for the first half hour and was now starting to feel gradually louder and louder. He strained to find a single moment without some sound, a second of silence, and voices scratched against his ears.

It was too hot, and too noisy, and the windows in the right wall didn't open.

Matt twitched, lifting his head. "What'd she say?" he demanded, fortunately quietly, once he had managed to successfully locate Tyler.

Tyler shrugged. "The cosine of x," he muttered, eyes fixed but unfocused on the blackboard.

"Oh." Matt shook his head, blinking, then paused. "What about it?"

"Fucked if I know."

"Oh."

"Yup." Matt considered this blearily for another moment, then shook his head again and propped it on his hand, whatever had awoken him from his fog apparently enough to discourage him from returning. Tyler watched him for a moment, then closed his own eyes briefly, flexing the sore muscles in his wrist.

He might as well start taking notes again, he thought when the discomfort eased. Half an hour left, and right now thirty minutes of faking notes would seem shorter than thirty minutes in which his mind was free to travel. No knowing where it might end up.

Opening his eyes, he focused on the clean notebook paper before him. It seemed to shift closer and farther away from him as his eyes readjusted to the bright light around the windows even after such a short time covered. Or…

He sighed and reached for his pencil, where it no longer sat before his textbooks. Sighing again in irritation, Tyler considered. He must have knocked it off the edge, but he couldn't exactly stand to get it without attracting attention that he simply didn't have energy to deal with right now.

Giving up on that plan, he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest and unconsciously squeezing just a little too hard. Just as well—he did not need to start doing anything…odd…right now.

A few minutes later Matt's elbow bumped him, and then again, on purpose this time. Tyler made a noise to indicate he was listening.

"How much longer?"

Tyler checked. Still very close to half an hour. Either he had underestimated earlier, or time really was passing remarkably slowly. "Thirty minutes."

"Oh." Matt was busy with something he was scratching into his own book. Tyler couldn't see behind his moving hand, although there was a distinctly damp spot distorting the paper of the visible upper right corner. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

Tyler considered. "No," he said finally.

"Why not?"

That was out of place. Because there was nothing happening tonight except the usual low level parties he would attend only if he was bored enough to need to, and those where under such general assumption that they didn't need a mention? "Because," he said. "You know man. There's stuff. But there's nothing big you haven't told me about, or anything, is there?"

"No," Matt said, in the tone that always made Tyler want to slap him because he suspected it was the sound of Matt only pretending to be oblivious, as opposed to the days when he actually was. But twelve long years hadn't given him any proof yet. Matt turned his paper a little, studying it closely. "But. You don't normally just say that."

"Say what?"

"Just no. You always say at least something."

Tyler uncrossed his arms, moving to rest his elbows on the table and leaning a bit sideways towards Matt so they could speak more easily in a casual undertone. "No I don't. I'm a man of few words."

Matt snorted, turning it into a cough. Tyler frowned at him, not certain of the purpose of this conversation and irritated by it. "Yes?"

A little shrug. "I'm just saying," Matt muttered. "You'd usually say something. I mean, if you're staying home for the night you'll still talk about your Xbox plans. Whatever you're looking forward to. I dunno."

Tyler frankly doubted that, he thought, because Matt might be an irritating bastard but he always had a point, and he knew where it was waiting even if you didn't.

That was probably why he was an irritating bastard, actually.

"Just, you're not really going to do nothing," Matt continued, making it sound just enough like a question that Tyler was sure he was going to have to answer it while at the same time possessing suspicious similarity to a statement.

"Yeah, I am," Tyler informed him. "There's nothing happening, I'm tired, and you aren't making it better."

Sometimes he wished Matt wasn't immune to snappishness, even when it was expressed politely. But Matt was Matt, and ignored the bite of the words. "No," he said, "You're not. You can't seriously be doing nothing worth looking forward to. I mean, even if you're gonna lie in bed and eat those disgusting granola bars all evening, that's got to be interesting to you, or you wouldn't be doing it." He adjusted his notebook again, and this time Tyler could see his hand wielding a quite familiar green cap eraser.

He sighed. "When did you decide my head my head needed shrinking?"

"I was just asking," Matt said conversationally. "So. I was gonna stop by the Grill with the guys or something." He made no indication whatsoever that Tyler was supposed to think it was an offer. Just the next song that came up on Matt Radio.

The guy was a piece of work. "Who?" Tyler asked, sinking his head onto his hand.

"Charlie maybe. He and Kylee are back together now. Maybe Zack."

Tyler made a humming noise.

"You'll be having fun with your granola things?"

"What do you have against my Power Bars?"

"Nothing. Just asking."

"Yes then. My Power Bars and I will be enjoying ourselves."

Matt smiled. "That's nice, then." He brushed away eraser dust, and Tyler hummed again, looking over the little drawing of the Donovan's neighbor's arthritic and beloved cat, Duster. At least he was fairly sure it was Duster; it looked like a teddy bear crossed with a toilet brush.

Fairly accurate.

Matt turned Tyler's pencil around again to add another detail to the toilet brush's face, and Tyler watched the path of the dark lead, almost hypnotized by the simple curving line.

His finger twitched, and he forced them under the table.

Trying to distract himself, he turned to look out the window instead, watching green leaves flicker in the sun.

It could be stressful, having an extremely accurate—if not necessarily perceptive—friend. Now that he had time to think about it, he wasn't sure he'd ever lied to Matt before. Been an utter dick, certainly, but that was a more a problem of too much bitter honesty than too little. He hadn't said 'nothing' because he had nothing he felt like doing. He had said it because he had very clear plans for lying on his bed most of the evening and slightly vaguer ones for finishing off the last of his borrowed apples and, possibly, one of the promised Power Bars, but mostly plans for doing nothing that would reduce the amount of time he had for thinking about Jeremy.

It was a full-fledged hobby now, and he could spend hours at it provided nothing happened to awaken his logical side, which would immediately put a stop to it every time. But most of the time it slumbered uneasily, restless but still drugged by whatever foreign creature had worked its way into his blood.

He had underestimated how long the obsession's power now seemed likely to last. He avoided thinking about that very topic, now, out of fear of what the answer might be, and fear of what answer he might discover he wanted.

He had started on a new drawing the night before, after a few hours of moping about had worn down his resistance by simply boring him silly. It was a little larger than he had tried working before, and showed Jeremy sitting on the loosely sketched bones of one of the docks around the lake, turned away but looking out over his shoulder and with his feet under the water. Tyler had worked on it slowly, as he kept thinking about what it would be like to do something like swimming with Jeremy, what it would be like if they were friends. It seemed almost impossible to imagine. But the vague idea he could summon—of laughing and shoving at each other and a feeling of genuine affection—was…bizarre, but attractive. He had no idea why, but he could imagine feeling affection for Jeremy, if someday Jeremy might be his friend, and protectiveness, and even a little bit of pride, that they had managed to learn to get along. He knew how it would be without knowing, and it made his chest constrict with happiness at the idea, but disappointment too, because after all there was a reason that becoming Jeremy's friend would seem like an enormous accomplishment.

And an odd one at that, as he still had no idea why he would want Jeremy's friendship, when all he honestly knew that he enjoyed doing with the boy was looking at him, and what kind of friendship would that make?

The bell sang to send them home for the day and with the rest of the class Tyler jumped to his feet, following the others from the room. But in his mind he was somewhere in the future, on another sunny day, and he was walking next to Jeremy.

He wasn't certain whether they were holding hands. But he would guess that Jeremy's skin must be very warm and smooth, and when he thought about it he could almost feel it under his fingertips.