Jim didn't go back to the barn after that. Spock stayed out until sundown, and Jim pretended to be asleep when he came back inside. He didn't know if Spock minded or not because he just couldn't fucking feel it.

But whatever. If Spock wanted to go back to his planet and pretend Jim never existed, fine. It's not like that isn't what everyone else did half the time anyway. Even Frank only noticed him when he fucked something up (did he want Frank to notice him in the first place?).

Somehow Jim must have fallen asleep, although he couldn't remember when or how much sleep he had gotten before his bedside alarm woke both Spock and Jim up. 8am. Up at at 'em. School was in an hour, and he was going to be there for the first time this week.

Not because of anything Frank said. He could eat shit, it's just. He does have to live in this town after Spock goes home. He's going to have to have a future on Earth, which is supposedly a lot easier with a high school diploma. Or so he's heard.

So; minimum attendance here he comes.

Jim raises an eyebrow at a disoriented Spock next to him, but doesn't look him in the eye. "I thought you'd be awake by now."

"Unfortunately I did not get to sleep as soon as I had wished."

"Oh?" Jim said, consciously neutral. He got out of bed and grabbed the first shirt he could from the set of drawers, and picked up a pair of shorts from off the ground. He'd only worn those once recently, they should be fine. He and Spock had mainly been in pyjamas anyway.

"I thought Vulkhansu didn't wish for anything," he continued when Spock was silent.

"... They do not."

At that, Jim - finally - looked back at the alien sitting on his bed. Despite not being able to like, read his mind or whatever anymore, Jim could tell Spock looked uncomfortable. He sighed.

"Look, I need to get to school if they're gonna let me pass the year…"

Spock nodded sagely. "Your education is important."

"Riiight, so uh." Jim gestured to the door. "I'm gonna go get changed, and then I'll try and make the bus. You can raid the kitchen if you get hungry, but make sure you stay out of sight. You're probably safest in the attic, no one ever goes up there. I don't know when Frank's gonna be home so just… be careful."

There was a beat, and then Jim nodded - mainly to himself - and turned towards the door. Just as he was about to close it behind him he heard-

"Jim?"

He turned around embarrassingly quickly.

"I am grateful… for your continued assistance," Spock practically whispered, like it was a secret.

Jim gave a breath of laughter. "I'm not helping you today Spock - I'm not even gonna see you until late this afternoon."

"Even so."

And there was something about the way Spock said it that made Jim he was doing more than just thanking him. A spike of panic went through him, lightning right down his chest and to his toes.

"I better not come back to find you've shot up into orbit," Jim tried to laugh off, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Before he could hear Spock's response - if there was a response - he shut the door.

Riverside South High School was, at the best of times, a trainwreck. The teachers never bothered with any of the kids that fell outside of "mediocre" because that would be too much effort, wouldn't it? Jim still holds a grudge against his eighth grade teacher, Mrs. Crane, for never fucking believing that he'd done the reading, or solved the equation by himself. She'd make him sit there and read at a snail's pace during lunchtime just so that she would be satisfied in her petty smugness. Bitch.

There was literally only one good thing about this place - Bones, his old babysitter and friend who would tell him all the weird shit he was doing in med school, and then betrayed that friendship by becoming a teacher at Jim's high school. A shitty, substitute teacher. He still let Jim eat lunch in his shoebox office while he got started on his evening hangover though.

The first bell would go off any second now, but Jim made a beeline for Bones' office anyway. It was in a pretty quiet part of the school - Jim knows it used to be a janitor's closet but Bones adamantly says it used to be a spy hideout or some shit. But it was definitely a janitor's closet. It's even got the door to prove it - ugly dark green sort of colour, faded in the bottom corners, no blurry window with a name on it like the other staff's offices. It's also cramped as fuck, but it's been drilled into Jim's head many times that "all you goddamn need in an office in a desk! Ya ain't supposed to live there! Fuckin' Mr. Black and his coffee machine." Bones secretly thinks they've just forgotten about him, but as long as he keeps getting paid he doesn't care.

Jim kicks the janitor's door down. "Heya, Bones," he says cheerfully, "I'm back!"

Bones, who was sleeping and had now fallen off his chair, sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Whoopee."

The first bell rang as Bones righted his chair. They stared at each other until the ringing stopped, listening to the running of a thousand feet as a hundreds of pre-pubescent losers made an attempt not to get a tardy note. Bones raised an eyebrow.

"Shouldn't you be gettin' to class?"

"Shouldn't you be working?" Jim shot back.

Bones huffs out a laugh and waved about the newspaper on his desk. It was covered in red circles.

"Jocelyn's due date is coming up soon and we're nowhere near our savings goal, so I'm tryin' ta find another job."

Jim gets up on the desk and kicks his feet. "Teaching one class a term ain't cutting it for ya, Mr. McCoy?"

There's a half hearted attempt to shove him off the furniture, and Bones grumbled: "if I'd'a just finished med school I wouldn't need to see your dumb ass once a term."

"Probably," Jim agreed. Med school was a sore spot for Bones so he didn't say anything else, just propped his back up against the wall and listened to the scratching of Bones' marker.

"Alright kid," Bones said once he was done with the newspaper, "out with it."

"Out with what?"

"Whatever's got you fuckin' mopey and quiet. Do I need to go over and bash up Frank Donnovan again?"

"Again?" Jim snorted, "you couldn't even do it the first time."

"Hey." Bones nudged him with an elbow, "you said it was fine last time, and I trusted you. Do I need to get Winona?"

"Uuugh, no. It's just…" Jim paused, stuck. If he told Bones the truth he'd never believe him, but if he played it off there'd be the Riverside County Police at his doorstep before he could say aliens.

"What do you do if someone, like, stops talking to you?" The words came out in a rush and Jim looked up at the ceiling to avoid the reality of this conversation happening, but also hoping that Bones had all the answers. It's not like Spock had completely stopped talking to him, but since the first failed attempt to get the message out, it's like he had… shut down a little bit.

"This a friend?"

Jim paused. Spock was his friend, right? Jim's friendships tended to be short-term and average at best. His crushes, on the other hand, could last for years. Once this cute exchange student held his hand during a rainy day and he thought about it for the next two years.

"Yep. A friend."

Bones smirked and nodded like that explained everything. Jim instantly regretted opening his mouth to anyone, ever.

"Well, this friend you got," Bones started slowly, "she cute?"

"That wasn't the question," Jim huffed. Yes. He's also an alien.

"Okay, okay - if she's stopped talking to you, that either means you've fucked up in an argument, or she's playing hard to get. Women are like another species sometimes, Jimbo, it's up to you to figure out which one."

Another species is a fucking understatement. "Well, what do I do?"

Bones lifted a finger and leaned in close like he was about to give away the secrets of the universe. "That's the thing - you either gotta stay quiet or make some big romantic gesture, but you've gotta figure it out for yourself."

"Your advice sucks, Bones."

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it - I'm still married, four years later."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, to a bitch."

This time, he was actually shoved off the desk. "Get to class, ya lovesick moron."

"Not lovesick, certified genius, check and mate," Jim said, backing out the door and slamming it shut to make sure he had the last word.

He didn't actually know what class he had - didn't even know what classes he was taking - so he swung by the front office to check the year group timetables posted in the hallway. Math. Fucking superb, did he really need a high school diploma for that future he was thinking about?

Heading back down the hallway, he tried to think of smartass things to say back to Mr. Black when he got told off, and was failing miserably. Bones' advice was stupid, and he definitely did it on purpose, but it did make him think. Hopefully Spock was safe in the attic, but it was way more likely for him to be out in the barn, just waiting to get caught.

Math class seemed less and less vital with every step. But he really would get an earful from Spock if he went home now, and he really, really, needed to have a plan for when Spock leaves the planet, permanently.

So he went to class.