"Now, can anyone tell me what the answer to number three is? This is important; it'll be on your test this Friday, and I would hate to see anyone pass up free points because they couldn't round to the correct decimal...oh, Mr. Chen? What is the answer?" The man, compact and jittery, adjusted his tie after choosing from the sparse selection of raised hands amongst the sea disinterested students, something that didn't surprise him very much. Upon his picking, the hand was placed back on the desk, odd teal eyes regarding the work in his book whilst his lips pulled into a confident smirk, reciting his answer verbatim.

"The answer, taking it to the thousandths place or three decimal places, would be 0.357." Out of the corner of his eye, Dash watched Kwan give an explanation, each word, as he saw it, carefully chosen and spoken with such assurance that he could not help the twinge that settled in his chest, something he pushed down. Several around him could be heard remarking words of scorn, calling him all manner of "know-it-all" or "nerd", but he, Kwan, didn't seem bothered at all, and Dash couldn't help but wish he could be half that confident about himself.

'No, no, I am confident. I'm just as good as him, I just don't feel like doing it, that's all.'

Gripping his sleeve, his laid down upon the desk, considering the students that hadn't seemed nearly that interested in him, not after his arrival in the class, and the ruckus that he had made, chuckling at the incredulous look that Mr. Falluca had given him when he burst through the door, tossing his slip onto his teacher's desk and taking off to his seat, though a strange discomfort plagued him as not smiles, but disdain flickered over his friends' faces, but his mind didn't process it.

It couldn't have been about him, right?

No, definitely not.

They were happy to see him, just as they should be, like friends should be.

And they...they were his friends.

Of course, in spite of that, there was a tiny tingle of pride at having made the entrance that he wanted (or at least attempted to, if literally thirty people weren't staring at him as soon as he walked into the classroom and made him wildly uncomfortable, but he didn't care about that so much at the moment), though it didn't really compare to a few others chatting happily with the former, Kwan and several others exchanging words that seemed more akin to another, foreign language when, in reality, it was something much worse; math.

'Too bad you're too stupid to get anything like that, so you shouldn't even bother.'

'You'd pretty much embarrass yourself.'

'Why are you so slow?'

The discomfort, and dare he say, annoyance, at the fact that he couldn't understand them, much less contribute anything to it was...pressing, to say the least. If anything, he felt...no.

Why would he be jealous?

That shit was for...for eggheads, or whatever.

But...he didn't like this feeling, whatever it was. It was something he remembered, bitterly, that is, when he was younger. A lot younger, and a lot more naive, long before he realized just how dumb he was. Long before he realized that he just didn't have "the stuff", just like his teachers and parents would often say.

He...just wasn't smart enough.

That he was much more useful lying on his back, taking it like a dog, his father wouldn't say when he would...

Never mind.

It wsan't like he cared, or anything.

No, no he didn't even as he felt a spark and burn that made him bury his head into his arms with a feeling he couldn't place, and at an anger, he felt, wasn't justified.

Kwan was good at something, really freaking good, actually, so why should he feel personally irritated at the fact, right? He'd always been so great, and cool and smart (probably the smartest person he knew), so it was only natural that he should feel happy for him that he was happy.

That's what anyone would (or, at the very least, should) say in this situation, Dash figured through his readjusting of his body in his chair, that same dull ache leaving his backside throbbing, though his attention never left the former. He was supposed to like seeing him (Kwan, in this sense) smile triumphantly through the praise of his teachers and even fellow students (hell, even some of the nerds liked him).

Not that he particularly cared about being liked or anything.

Nope, he was just fine with the way that he was.

It was just something about it, something about the way that everything just seemed to...come to him...that made him grind his teeth in anger.

Rage.

Jealousy.

'Whatever,' The teen passed dismissively, turning passively to face the front board through his attempts to snuff this emotion, whatever he would call it, remarking to himself, '...it's not like this is my sort of thing anyway. I'm good at other things...like...,' A few moments of concerted thought with nothing to show for it didn't serve to rid him of his bitter tongue, squeezing a section of his forearm as the irritation bit back harder.

'You aren't good at anything.'

'I don't think you have any actual skills, now that I think about it...'

'What are you good for apart from being fuck-'

As the former went quiet, with him and the teacher apparently having a conversation that he hadn't heard a thing of, having long since zoned out to the droning nonsense around him (talking about math was a fast way to get him to fall asleep, though he found that less funny now in the moment and more a reminder of his own ineptitude), the taller of the boys whispered over to him after moments of allowing him to settle back down, distracting him from the pervasive, uncomfortable feelings he was experiencing.

More than anything, it gave him something to focus on apart from the constant, never-ending, exceptionally loud talking of the shit-stains between his ears.

Kwan distinctly jumped, widening eyes just happening to relax as memory appeared to rekindle that air of familiarity between them, though he didn't smile at him, not that Dash minded so much, being so absorbed in getting his attention, he hardly noticed it.

Though it didn't escape his eye, subconsciously noticing it, but giving it little attention.

But he'd noticed it, and that was enough.

Somewhere in him, something screamed, the distant call of caution implanting the seeds of fear into him about the state of his makeup, the expression on his face, whether he'd annoyed him or not; he could acutely remember the hassle it was to angle his body just enough to avoid the steely glare of the secretary in the main office. He wasn't sure, but he was about ninety percent sure that the lady had been an eagle in her past life, bifocal lenses almost appearing to zero in on each and every flaw that he had.

If not that, then maybe just his face in general? Maybe he smiled too hard, didn't smile enough; something had to be wrong for Kwan not to look happy to see him.

'It's probably nothing.' He tried to assure himself, hand now rubbing nervously at the sleeve of his jacket, feeling that nervous itch that traveled the length of his arm, begging to be scratched.

Not yet. Not yet.

But he had to admit that Roxie had done a real number on him, removing a good deal of the makeup he had put on, revealing acne-riddled, sallow, bruised skin that he just couldn't hide.

But more than that, oddly enough, he couldn't help but mull over the effect of puppies eating makeup.

Did they get sick from that sort of thing?

How much of it did they need to eat to die?

Was Roxie going to die?

Where was the nearest vet?

Could he even afford the vet?

Despite not being able to answer those other questions, he could answer the last one, the answer being a resounding 'No', though, he couldn't help the dizzying fatigue that filled his head only moments later. Internally, he breathed, and breathed again, trying to slow the quickening beat of his heart; she was fine, he was fine, and him panicking in the middle of class was a much more pressing issue as he felt the beginnings of a wheeze collapse his chest, much to the concern of Kwan who'd also learned to hear what he had been saying.

Wait, what was he doing again?

...and he'd been talking out loud this entire time?!

Casting a quick glance around him, several students had turned toward him, whispering amongst themselves as they pointed to him, laughing beneath their breath before turning back toward the board. Even Falluca, ever attentive, wasn't immune, chiming in once he'd seen Dash looking around.

"Mr. Baxter, everything alright back there? For a moment there, it seemed as though you were, ahem, volunteering to answer. You weren't, were you?" Slowly, all eyes seemed to be on him, and his voice seemed to escape him.

"W-what? Oh, uh, no, Falluca, can't say, I, uh, do. No, thanks; I don't get a lick of whatever that is, heh." Jerking a finger to the board, he let loose a nervous laugh, hoping others would chime in, but they didn't, the awkward air thicker than gel as his voice tried to cut through it.

Falluca clicked his teeth, turning back to the work at his side, but not before speaking again.

"Figured you wouldn't, but I suppose I had to try, didn't I? Anyway, back to the problem...", Students snickered then, whispering again about him, he knew, and he placed his head back into his arms, squeezing himself closer inward in hopes of looking smaller.

It was Kwan's voice, however, that made him jump this time, playing it off as he flashed the best grin he could, though he could help but feel as though it was a bit...lopsided.

Who's Roxie? Oh, and did you say something about...makeup? What are were talking about?" The other genuinely looked confused, scratching his head through the occasional affirming look to Falluca who'd yet to take notice of their conversation. Though even if he had, the boy noticed he'd stopped to consider, he was probably only keeping quiet about it because he really liked Kwan...in particular.

He and the 'Squirrely Geezer', never really got along.

But the questions from before still lingered in the air, hanging over his head like a damp umbrella that chanced to close on his hand.

'Play it cool, play it cool; just pretend like nothing even happened.' Chuckling, he flashed that infamous grin, starting with a playful jab that may have been harder than he had intended, but he figured the situation was still salvageable.

"What're you talkin' about? Anyway, someone's been hittin' the books a bit hard, huh, egghead? Lookin' to kiss up to Falluca?" Dash had startled himself for a moment there, if just for a hair of a second for, for even if that voice had been his own, there was no denying the detraction that jarred his senses and grated on his vocal cords. It was him yet, at the same time, he wasn't at all, and with this, one question arose that he just had to wonder:

Had he always been this irritating to listen to?

Had he always sounded this...annoying?

It had been an entire summer since he's sounded like this, but he could not, for the life of him, recall being this irritated with himself.

The voice was grating, tiring, and frankly, a chore to put on in it of itself.

This was Dash, his ideal self, the jock, the popular kid, the socialite, yet despite that, it didn't make that sense of disillusionment go away, and it surely didn't make him like himself anymore than he had before then.

At the jab (both literally and figuratively), Kwan smirked haughtily, even when the exhausted expression didn't leave his eyes. However, like him, the former seemed really good at hiding his annoyance with the former, not that Dash had been looking for that at all.

Dash had to admit that having your friend burst into class, throwing open the door and stomping over to his seat whilst he also, without any warning at all, jabbed you in the shoulder and made a point to talk really loudly to you in the middle of the class would be pretty embarrassing.

If he were Kwan, he'd probably look the same way.

Hell, he couldn't stand having to deal with himself, so how could he hope others would want to when he was this stupid, the boy would think with an empty laugh.

There probably wasn't a way for him to be more annoying or obnoxious than he had been in that moment alone, but another part of him argued back.

Wouldn't you be excited (and perhaps a little irritated) if the friend that said would call and keep in touch over the summer didn't even bother to do so? Not even once?

Not that he was mad or anything.

He was fine.

So yeah, he probably sounded a bit selfish, childish even. Kwan had a life of his own, friends that weren't his, a life that wasn't his, and an actual future, so for fuck's sake, yeah, he was a tad bit peeved at him.

Did he have to be loud and annoying, no, but was he going to do it anyway?

Hell fucking yes; he could feel bad about it later.

Especially since even through all of it, the yelling, the jabbing, the greeting...Kwan didn't look particularly happy to see him.

He hoped that wasn't the case.

Maybe he was just tired, or grouchy, or something, but he couldn't fathom being the reason for any of that.

He just couldn't imagine it.

Straightening the pencils that were laid neatly upon his desk (though they were already so), Dash could only guess that he was gathering his thoughts, or something like that.

What did he have to think so hard for?

Had he always been this thoughtful?

"Well, I mean...not really. Actually trying has it's perks, you know? It isn't so bad to participate, and just because I do, doesn't make me an egghead...it's pretty fun" The former couldn't deny hearing the tangible joy in his voice, though his tone had shifted at the end, as if he'd avoided looking at him; the wistful look in his eyes framed to turn his attention to the front board, opening a notebook to, what Dash assumed, jot down notes.

Looking back, Kwan wasn't really sure if he liked being Dash's friend.

Sure, it was fun being the smartest person in the room, but he definitely didn't care to be seen with the lot that he usually did. Dale, with his rude remarks and general idiocy; Star, a glorified flesh light; Paulina, the pretty airhead of the group, and Dash, the brute he'd somehow gotten himself entangled with. How did it get so bad, he would ask himself in the quiet moments of his day, pondering the state of his social life, the words of his parents ringing over and over between the thoughts of school and the million or so things he had take care of.

"Can't you see that he's a terrible influence on you? All he does is get into trouble, not that the rest of them are any good." He would often hear his mother say this to him after he told them of his day, somehow fitting that in between the his recent grades and games after-school. He couldn't deny the truth in her words, simply nodding along as it went on.

"You would much better off talking to new people that are on your level, wouldn't you? What are you really gaining from being around them?" He didn't know, really.

Kwan wasn't sure if it was from the fear of rejection (he'd been a dick to a lot of the students of the school when he was around Dash), or some repressed need for validation (the others practically drooled over him).

He wasn't sure, but there was one thing that he was certain of.

Seeing that blonde idiot waltz into the room as if the entire school belonged to him infuriated to an unreasonable degree, and just having him to hit arm, the former sending a light jab that had worked to fray his nerves, made his skin crawl.

He always smelled, the plastering of makeup on his face was too obvious (not that he'd say anything), and he was as dumb as a doorknob.

But could he do better?

Maybe he'd try a new club out for a change; anything to get away from this.

Putting a smile on his face, he turned to Dash.

Kwan hadn't responded for over a minute, seeming to be enthralled in the lesson, ignoring Dash as his pencil ripped across the paper.

Irritably, Dash, shook his leg, watching him, but his thoughts were racing.

Why did he care so fucking much about this shit anyway, he would wonder, asking himself what is was that could he possibly be writing that down that he didn't already know?

He's done that the entire summer; can't he just look at him for five minutes? Five FUCKING minutes?

'Aww, is someone a little upset? What, you got a hard on for him or somethin''

'No, just...I just want him to pay attention; just for a minute. Is that so bad-,' Shifting in his chair and pushing back, the old legs scraping against the tiled floor with a loud cry, the teen was pleasantly surprised to see all of the heads cock to him, effectively taking away the attention from the lesson. The teen grumbled in his thoughts, turning back to Kwan, his expression was strange, taut with strain as he waved apologetically to the other students who'd, at this point, lost interest in the two of them, returning to their work.

The former didn't even look at him, scoffing before doing the same.

Wait.

Scoffing?

That's not...that's not what he was supposed to do.

He was supposed to laugh with him, not look like that.

'Wow, could you be more annoying? I mean, really.'

'Desperate much?'

'You act like you want to suck his dick or somethin'.'

'What a loser.'

'Stop being so weird.'

'Maybe you are gay.'

No, no he wasn't thinking about this at all.

Shut-up.

Was it bad to want to just talk?

No, he had gotten their attention, his attention, and that's all he needed.

"Hey? I don't know why I'm surprised. You were always into this junk, but don't ya, like, wanna talk to me? We haven't seen each other the entire summer, dude." Was that a stupid question? Did he sound too needy?

Probably.

Dash sighed a bit at his own tone; he was supposed to be curious, not desperate.

But he just wanted him to talk to him.

He really needed him to talk to him.

Watching Kwan pull his seat in the slightest bit, straightening his posture this time (what was with him and straightening things?), hands fumbling with the various items upon the surface, it made the former nervous.

Why was he thinking so hard?

Just say something!

"Junk? You know, just because you don't understand its value and actually like doing it doesn't mean that it isn't a respectable interest."

What did he just say?

Dash felt a retort bundle from his throat, but before he could spout it, Falluca's voice chimed in, loud enough for the entire class.

"Hello, Chen...Baxter. I see that the two of you are having an enthralling conversation. Care to share it with the class?" Looking to his right, it appeared as though Kwan was going to answer, but just as he'd opened his mouth to speak, Dash rushed in, overtaking his words.

"Yeah, we were, but I don't think I'm in the mood to let you in it. Not really your business, Teach'." To this, some of the students whispered; he couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but he could only guess that his little comment hadn't surprised any of them. For a moment, Falluca looked flustered but quickly regained his composure, almost appearing as though he wanted to smirk, but his face remained firm.

"Is that so? Well, I can't imagine you'd have an issue then, starting the pile of reports I asked you all for at the end of last year, would you? I love to see yours at the top of your row's." With that, the rest of the students followed suit, taking from their desks the stack of papers that they had been assigned, and the reports, a project aimed to sight different instances of the Fibonacci Sequence in nature. Some had even begun to exchange what they had down for their projects, though he noticed them, a few eyes that had peered at him in the midst of him sitting there, droplets of sweat beading on his forehead as his breath hitched.

He'd forgotten about that...completely.

Rummaging around in his bag (he hadn't made it to his class in the morning to be given the locker combination), he dug out his old notebook, bending off at the hinges and flimsy in his hands, the borders of the cover scratched and worn with age. Opening it, there weren't many pages left, most covered with weird scribbles and sparse words, some of his failed attempts to keep up during class when he actually tried.

It was mostly just nonsense; words that don't relate, statements left without context.

They were worthless...so that's why he tore of three of them, and placed them on-top of the pile.

Of course, people laughed, at least he had thought that they had, squeezing himself further down into his seat to make himself smaller as Falluca came down each row to take the papers, taking it pretty roughly from his hands when he had reached him, not even bothering to look in his direction.

God, he was so useless.

He shouldn't have been surprised really, biting his lip as an odd itch on his arms settled it, though he rubbed at his sleeves.

That would have to wait.

He knew from the very moment that assignment was given at the end of last year, their freshman year, that he wouldn't be able to do it, as was the case practically every year. He didn't bother looking up as he listened to secret words play on the various tongues around them, not that he would have been able to, locked in place by his trembling legs, knees firmly plastered to the bottom of the desk.

It was hard to breathe...he couldn't breathe.

He knew they were were talking about him. His thoughts, the voices, told him so.

'Look, look, they're whispering. They're saying bad things about you~'

'Listen, can't you see how much they all hate you?'

'N-no, no it...if I just don't say anything...they won't have a reason to, right? As long as I'm good, no one with-'

Eyes.

So many...looking at him, staring him.

Why were they looking at him?

He hadn't done anything wrong.

'Kwan's looking at you, laughing at you. Look at him, he can't stand being around you.'

'Who could when you're this fucking' annoying and stupid.'

He had to focus. Focus on his own thoughts. Looking to his right, Kwan's mouth was opening and closing, talking to him, but he wasn't smiling, so he wasn't laughing, right?

So why could he hear them laughing?

Who was laughing?

He couldn't tell, but he could hear them muttering, mumbling, whispering.

"Dash is so dumb."

That wasn't true.

"No homework again? But really, who's surprised?"

He tried, he really did-

"Are you even trying?"

He was, he promised he was!

"You're too stupid for anyone to even like you."

I...I don't know-

...

...

...

What did they know?

He tried hard, just as much as any of those assholes. He didn't like being this way, it wasn't his fault-

"Dash, dude, you okay?" A hand was touching him, coming from the right of him, but he sucked in a breath, releasing his lip from his lip to discover that the taste of blood had filled his mouth, the warm substance dribbling down his chin. The source of the hand was insistent, and it remained even as he squirmed in his seat at the touch.

It was squeezing too hard, too long.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm good. Just trying to stay awake; went to a party last night, you know how it goes." Cocking that smiling, that deplorable, stupid smile, he heard his teacher speak once more; the teen could practically hear how displeased his teacher was.

"Mr. Baxter, please see me after class." As if looking at a car accident, Kwan shook his head, face remaining stock still as he went about listening to the lesson.

Dash laid his head back in his arms, watching the clock lumber by.