Melee Academy of Higher Learning for Boys
Year Three
-Twelve-
The hallways of Melee Academy were uncharacteristically quiet, especially for it almost being eight in the morning. The halls were practically deserted, which was also unusual, and the few who walked up and down them questioned whether or not school was in session that day. No one caught wind of Tabuu calling off school – and really, what reason was there to? – so they just dismissed it as people coming in late. Or maybe they had even found another floor to hang out on.
"So prom's coming up," Link said as he and Roy slid down the wall of lockers and onto the floor. Link fiddled idly with his tie and Roy rested his eyes.
"And?" Roy sounded disinterested. He knew Link was going to try and get him to go, but it wouldn't work. Link's plans having to do with school functions usually backfired.
"You should go," Link said, nudging Roy in his side. "Ike and I are going."
Roy glanced at Link from the corner of his eye and sighed. "Have fun."
Link's face fell. "Oh, it'll be fun, Roy. You can, uh, find a date or something!" He paused to think of all the possible people Roy could go with. "You could go with Pit."
Roy glowered at him. "Definitely not. Marth would cut Pit's wings off and mount them over the fireplace in his study."
Link thought harder. "Get Marth to chaperone?"
"He has other things to do."
Link gave Roy a look. "Like what?"
Roy was silent. This just made Link even more curious.
"Roy?"
Roy found his shoes very interesting. He even idly inspected them.
"Spill it, Pherae." It was odd for Link to use Roy's last name, even in anger. He put his hands on his hips after shifting so he could do so. Link tended to have a flair for the dramatic.
"I… I saw—very briefly, mind you—what Marth's been doing these past few weeks. All the research and pages and pages of notes."
Link had the urge to get his memo pad out and take notes – he wasn't called 'Mr. Gossip' for nothing, after all, and he had a newspaper column to write for, too – but he resisted and instead listened intently.
"What'd they say?" He didn't even question how Roy could read them. Roy was learning Altean – perhaps now he was knowledgeable enough to read it. Link didn't question much, really. Unless your name was Ganondorf Dragmire, in which case, Link made it his personal mission to find out every last detail.
"Link…" Why was his heart pounding so hard against his ribs? It felt like it would burrow a hole through his chest and spill out into his lap. "Link, I think Marth's planning on—"
Zelda came out of her classroom at that moment, interrupting Roy as if she had some sort of cue. Whatever she left for, she didn't look too pleased about it.
"Roy, I need a gay man's opinion," she said as her heels went click click click on the linoleum the school seemed so fond of. (Master Hand insisted on marble tile, but Crazy Hand, who designed the school in the first place, just pushed his brother out the door, assured him linoleum was best, and slammed the door in his face.)
Roy pointed to Link.
"Ask him – he watches Queer Eye and idolizes Carson more than you'll ever know."
Link crossed his arms. "I'll have you know that just because I think he gives great fashion advice, doesn't mean I'm stereotypically gay. I'm happily bisexual, thank you."
Zelda cleared her throat and the two boys stopped their pointless chatter. "It doesn't matter – I just need an opinion of sorts."
Before either of them could ask what for, she shoved a magazine in their faces. Link received it and glanced at the picture.
"This is a wedding dress," Link said. "Oh, Zelda, this is totally not my colour."
Roy resisted the urge to hit him upside the head. "Link, just because it isn't green, doesn't mean it'll look hideous on you."
"It's not for you, anyway," Zelda pointed out. "Unless you and Ike are planning on getting married, but then you can get your own dress. This is for me. What do you think about it?"
Link stared at it in contemplative silence, occasionally turning the magazine this way and that, hoping that some glaring error would make itself known. The dress itself was floor-length with a rather long train; the bodice looked like it was actually more of a corset style, with silk ribbons lacing it up in the back. The bodice itself was actually a powder blue, and the skirt reminded Link of Cinderella. It came with opera style gloves, also powder blue in colour, with a tiara and a veil long enough to match the train of her dress.
This is kinda plain, Link thought, even though he had to admit it was quite impressive. It's very…white.
Zelda tapped her foot impatiently. "Well?"
"It's nice," Link lied. Definitely not something I'd let you wear if it was us getting married.
Zelda beamed. "What about you, Roy? What do you think?"
Roy shrugged. He could care less about any sort of feminine clothing. "If you're happy with it, then I'm happy with it."
Zelda's smile got bigger and she even squealed a bit, as if Roy's opinion meant the world to her. Link handed her the magazine back just as Peach came by to use the bathroom – the women's bathroom on the fourth floor was rarely not out of order, which annoyed Peach to no end. Zelda intercepted her and the two blonde princesses chattered about the wedding.
"You didn't really like it, did you," Roy stated when the two females ventured into the bathroom together; they babbled about what Zelda should have for the bridesmaids dresses now.
Link shook his head. "Nope. Not one bit."
They sat there for a bit before Link remembered what they were discussing previously.
"So what were you saying before?"
Roy didn't remember. "Something unimportant, probably."
"You were saying Marth was planning on something," Link prompted. He wanted details, and he wanted them now.
That seemed to spark something in Roy, for he said, "Oh yeah. That." He chuckled.
"Details, Roy."
Roy waved at Link, as if dismissing Link's need for information. "Well, it's ridiculous in the first place, but…"
"But?"
Roy did some sort of motion with his shoulders, and Link interpreted it to mean "I can't discuss this sort of thing here, wait later".
Link put on some music, and Roy could hear what was playing clear as day.
"Are you listening to Hilary Duff?" It was a little sad that Roy even knew that fact.
Link was dancing in his place and mouthing the words to 'Reach Out'.
"And what if I am?"
Roy shook his head. "Nothing."
I should be used to Link's weird taste in music.
Link didn't like the word 'weird' used for his taste in music. He preferred the word 'eclectic'. Everyone else just used the word 'bad' when it came to describing Link's taste in music.
-x-
"You know," Link began at the height of his yawn, "I'd like Chemistry if Marth didn't make it so damn boring."
Roy shrugged as he held his science text under his arm. "Chemistry isn't supposed to be exciting, Link."
"I don't know why I signed up for the class in the first place – I'm not going to college. I'll probably be going back to Hyrule after all of this."
Roy rounded the corner with Link in tow to his Pre-Calc class.
"They're having a DDR tourney during lunch today," Link said as he read a flyer for it from its place on the beige-painted wall. "And a karaoke competition as well."
Roy rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, we'll get to see rhythmically uncoordinated people get raped in DDR and people who can't sing worth crap do just that. I think I'll go out to eat."
He slid the door of his class open and placed his things on his desk before returning to the hallway.
"But you have Chorus, Roy! You can't just keep cutting the class."
"Sure I can," Roy answered. "Zelda's never said anything to me about it, anyway, and I haven't received any cut slips from Wesker, so…"
Nicholas zoomed into the classroom and nearly burned the rubber off his Oxfords, hoping with every fibre of his being that he wasn't late. There was no one else in the class, so he took his seat and caught his breath.
"Why did I bother with this class," he muttered as he opened up to last night's homework and fanned himself with it. "It's not like I need this class to graduate or anything – I have enough credits. Stupid counselor…"
Too bad no one cared about Nicholas's miniature monologue.
"Do you and Marth have like, a rendezvous or something during fourth? Does he bend you over his desk and go, 'Your score on the test was less than satisfactory, Mr. Pherae… You need to be punished like the bad boy you are…' and then pull your pants down, and then you go, 'Oh, Mr. Lowell, please, not here! I'll do better, I promise…'" Link then began to pretend he was having sex on top of a desk. Roy, meanwhile, turned a shade slightly lighter than his hair and ignored everyone's stares.
"Not…quite," Roy whispered, wishing for lightning to smite him where he stood.
Link smirked. "Then what does he do?"
Roy muttered it in Link's ear, and his eyes went wide at the details.
"…Okay, you know what? That sounds like one of those pornos," Link remarked, staring at Roy with an unsurprised look on his face. It was like he was expecting Roy and Marth to be starring in a pornographic movie or something, the way he was reacting.
"No one ever uses the back counter anyway," said Roy as he messed with the flyer by the door. "And we do a good job at cleaning up."
More students trudged past the two swordsmen, books in their hands and solemn expressions on their faces. They looked like they were off to their execution instead of entering their Pre-Calculus class. Then again, maths wasn't very exciting to begin with.
"…Shouldn't you be off to your next class?"
Link looked at his watch. "It's only Hylian. I have straight A pluses, anyway, so what am I missing?" He peered into Roy's class. "Besides, this class looks okay."
"Link, this is a math class."
"Oh. Never mind, then, I retract my previous statement."
Roy never saw Link nearly kill himself trying to get down the stairs before.
Pre-Calc isn't that bad.
It wasn't anything to nearly kill one's self over, anyway. Unless you were Nicholas, who was freaking out because he missed the last two problems.
-x-
"Can you wait five seconds for me to—" Marth was silenced by Roy's mouth covering his, the room suddenly becoming so unbearably hot as Roy slipped his tongue into Marth's mouth that he was sure he would faint.
"No, I can't wait five seconds for you to get up from your stupid computer chair," Roy said, pulling away just an inch or so.
Roy scowled when Marth used a manila folder to block him just in time.
Always the strategically sneaky one.
"So we could do it in the faculty lounge bathroom, and I could throw you up against the chalkboard back when you stole Mewtwo's job…"
"Don't forget what we did last year in the bathroom all the time," Marth added, putting the folder back on his desk as he resumed typing up the final exam review.
Roy crossed his arms. "And yet we can't do anything here? I mean, a classroom is a classroom."
Marth stopped typing and looked at Roy over the top of his glasses. "Mewtwo's classroom was more isolated, since it was in that corner, and the door was further in the wall than any of the other rooms. And we were in the corner of the room, which meant that no one would be able to see anything." He typed a few more words before continuing. "And that's the important part—not being able to see anything."
Roy sat on top of the small filing cabinet Marth had to his immediate right. "There was another reason for why I was called here, wasn't there?"
Marth tapped impatiently on the keyboard's wrist rest. The internet service the school used really needed to be updated – who the hell used dial-up anymore for a business?
"Just give me one moment."
Roy sighed and shook his head. "Can you not multi-task or something, dear?"
"No."
"Well that was apparent," said Roy sarcastically.
The internet decided to commit suicide just as Marth's upload hit ninety-nine point nine percent.
"I hate the school's computers," Marth muttered as he searched for a specific folder on his desk.
"So does the rest of the school, Marthy."
Marth almost forgot about the 'affectionate' nickname Link had given him, though Roy often claimed ownership for having coined it. He found it less annoying when Roy used it, of course.
"First 'dear' and now 'Marthy'?" Where is that stupid folder? He continued his quest to Find the Missing Folder.
Roy shrugged. "You're so hard to pick affectionate nicknames for, so I'm experimenting with different ones."
Marth chuckled. "I don't think anyone's called me 'dear' before, except maybe in a letter." Still not able to find this stupid thing—since when was my desk such a mess?
"Even then, I bet it's 'Dear King Marth, our Prince of Light and Resident Dark Dragon Slayer'."
Marth opened the cabinet drawer, which was located between Roy's legs, hoping to find a trace of the folder.
"You're close. They title them 'Dearest Majesty, King Marth of Altea, our Beacon of Light and Wielder of Falchion'."
Roy had a look of disbelief on his face.
I was only kidding, Marth. I can't believe they address their letters like that.
"I wish I were kidding," Marth said in reply to Roy's expression. "I'll have to show you one of the letters sometime. Aha!" He emerged from the deepest, darkest corner of the drawer (which was only the very back in reality), folder in hand. "I knew I didn't leave it somewhere."
Roy wanted to know what the hell was in that folder – it had to be held closed by a rubber band – and why it was so important.
"Is that what you wanted to show me? An overstuffed folder?"
Marth removed the rubber band. "Ha ha, Roy. No, it isn't."
When Roy saw the contents laid out in front of him, he was confused at first.
What is this? Papers with all sorts of legalese filtered out into view, along with lists and signed parchment and a map of different places Roy didn't get a good look at.
"I don't get it."
Marth smirked. "Let's go to the park after school. I'll explain everything there." He found the paper he was looking for and placed it on his keyboard. He was hoping the internet wouldn't kill itself again just enough for Marth to Google something.
Roy looked puzzled. The park? Why there of all places?
"Why there?"
Marth took a separate folder, this one filled with students' work, and wheeled himself over to his other cabinet. It was labeled 'Periods 3 and 4', and Roy wasn't surprised at it. Marth labeled everything "for clarification purposes". He could be very anal about organization when he wanted to be.
"Because it's the beginning of April, Roy. The cherry blossoms will be in bloom, so it will be quite…scenic." Marth would have used the word 'romantic', but he thought what he said was sappy enough without it.
Roy chuckled. "Are you asking me on a date, Marth?"
Marth almost closed the drawer on his hand. Well, he closed it gently on his hand, rather than slammed the thing closed.
Roy looked very amused. "I'm taking that as a 'Yes, Roy, I am' answer."
Marth nursed his wounded hand. It was made of metal, and metal and flesh were not the best of friends. "Take it however you wish."
Roy pulled Marth over to him, taking care to yank on his good hand. Marth almost landed in his lap. Instead, Marth caught himself using his arms, and towered over Roy, their faces inches apart. He flushed when Roy wrapped his legs around his waist and pulled him closer.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're adorable when you get all flustered?" Roy made a point to play around with Marth's tie.
Marth was now the colour of a red rose. "N-Not really, no." He was avoiding Roy's eyes again.
Roy smirked. "Aren't you the one who's supposed to exude authority on me and not the other way around?" He had Marth's tie wrapped around his hand now, and he tugged on it. Now their noses were practically touching.
"Well, Mr. Lowell?" Marth hoped Roy didn't know that he got so turned on from him sounding so seductive. In fact, he found it a little harder to breathe.
Marth managed to gain control of himself and instead pulled Roy so he now sat at the edge of the cabinet top. Roy, not expecting it, nearly cried out.
Well, he did, but to Marth it sounded like a moan against his lips.
-x-
"You look flustered," Link remarked as Roy clumsily rebuttoned his shirt on the way to Mewtwo's class. Roy was thankful he always wore a wife beater under his uniform, otherwise some unsuspecting student might pass out from the hotness that was half-shirtless him.
"Not as flustered as Marth." He took his books back from Link and sighed contentedly, not caring that his shirt was misbuttoned. You wouldn't notice unless someone either pointed it out or you looked close enough.
"Is it really that hard to keep it in your pants for six hours?"
Roy shot Link a death glare. "Says the boy who demands Ike to fuck him up against the lockers."
Link was almost the same shade of red as Roy's hair. "Yeah, but we've never actually done it against the lockers."
"You did so!"
"When? Where?"
They stopped a short distance from room 221, where Roy confronted Link head-on.
"The locker rooms after midterms for gym were over."
Link tittered and scratched the back of his head. "Oh yeah…," he said quietly. "But that was the locker rooms! There wasn't a soul in sight."
Roy merely shook his head and stepped into the room, bowed, and took his seat at his assigned desk. Link shrugged and dropped all of his books on his desk.
"You and Ike'll have to walk home by yourselves today," Roy said as he got himself organized.
"Why?"
"Because I'm getting a ride from Marth."
Link snickered. "I thought you were the one who rode him?"
Roy didn't see the joke right away. "I would, but I don't have my lic—Link!"
Five seconds later, Link was nursing his left arm.
"I hope you know I use this arm to write with," Link said with grit teeth, "and that this'll probably leave a bruise."
Roy gave a curt nod. "Serves you right."
"You know," Link said as he rummaged for his frozen water bottle in his bag, "I think Marth's rubbed off on you."
Roy shook his head. "Nah. Marth threatens to punch you in the arm the next time you make a perverted joke. I actually do."
Link put the frozen beverage on his bruised limb, wincing from the discomfort the cold brought.
"You didn't even give warning!"
Roy pointed to his head. "I have red hair. That should give some warning."
"Since when did you act like a stereotypical red head?"
Roy deadpanned. "Obviously you're not good at understanding sarcasm. Although they do say red heads are good in bed…" He grinned goofily.
Link blinked. "…Are they?"
Roy shrugged, the wistful reverie over at once. "Ask Marth. I'm sure he could tell you."
Whilst Roy and Link were talking about their sex lives once more, Nicholas and Stephenie were outside the classroom, practically feeling each other up. Passers-by almost collided with the wall from gawking.
"Get a room!" one student yelled.
"Redfield, we have a Code 2-4-6 near room 221," said a cardboard box nearby into a walkie-talkie. No one questioned his sight one bit.
"Which one?" a feminine voice replied over the static.
"Either of you," a gruff voice replied back. "Whoever's closest to room 221."
Gary Stu Wesker strolled into the classroom with a rather angry look on his features. Maybe it was the way he wore his hair today, but he looked like a mini-clone of his father. Then again, no one was sure he wasn't a clone of his father, but that wasn't the point. If Albert Wesker was an eighteen year old schoolboy, he would've looked like Gary Stu Wesker. Except Gary had blue eyes and he didn't possess superhuman powers, but Wesker was that way at some point, too.
Stupid Kennedy stealing equally stupid Redfield, he thought as he plopped down onto his seat. If it weren't for the fact that her father could—and would—kick my ass, I'd teach her a lesson or five on why you shouldn't steal people. It's not nice.
"How could this happen me?!" Gary shouted to the heavens above. "I made my mistakes! Why must I suffer?!" He then sobbed into his arms.
Unfortunately for Mewtwo, he took that moment to walk into the room.
Why did I take this job back?
He then promptly walked right back out. He was going to hand in those stupid resignation papers first thing after school, or do something stupid to get him fired.
"I'll be right back," Stephenie said after she and Nicholas walked into the room. She handed him her bag and smiled.
"Where're you going?" he asked, following her out the door with his eyes.
"Bathroom." She then hightailed it out of there like Dr. Salvador was chasing after her with a chainsaw. If that were the case, she could just call her father up and he would blow him to pieces with his shotgun. And then kick him while he was down.
Nicholas put her things on her chair and then sat down on his.
Stephi's been doing that a lot lately, he thought as he looked around the room. I'm a little concerned.
And then it dawned on him.
Oh man, I bet she's got her-- He then shivered in disgust. That means a whole week without anything. He groaned and placed his head in his hands. Gary was still sobbing over his pathetic life on his other side, and he didn't notice.
Kweenetra waddled into the room, her boyfriend not far behind her and her boyfriend's brother behind him. She was wearing a uniform that was clearly not her size, and everyone stared at the reason for it.
"Don't. Say. Anything," she warned as Robert pulled her seat out for her. She sort of fell onto it and squirmed a bit to get comfortable.
"You're all looking like you've never seen a pregnant girl before," Mewtwo said as he floated into the room. I'm teaching a trainwreck, he thought the entire time.
Stephenie made it back just before the bell rang, and she nearly cried at the sight of Kweenetra.
"I appreciate the support," the sophomore said sarcastically.
Oh gods, that's what I'm gonna look like someday? Stephenie thought as she made her way over to Nicholas. She then stared at her own stomach, as if she were expecting it to suddenly morph into something else.
"Everything okay, babe?" Nicholas wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her gently.
She nodded emphatically. "Of course."
"Hey, you two! Stop practically having sex in the hallway and get to class!"
Nicholas and Stephenie both immediately recognized that voice as everyone else looked towards the open door.
"What're you gonna do, cut it off?"
There was the sound of a gun cocking.
"No, I'll blow it off instead."
There was a shriek then, and no one was sure if it was the boy or the girl.
"Now zip up and get to class."
Nicholas gulped and crossed his legs and Mewtwo got his roll book all organised. "Your dad's scary."
"Y-Yeah," she replied with a nervous laugh. "But he's a real softie underneath all of that."
"Did the bell ring?" Dean asked as he doodled two ninjas fighting each other on his notebook cover.
Mewtwo looked at the clock. "I didn't hear anything."
"So do you think Marth's gonna propose or something?" Link asked as Dean and Mewtwo got into a discussion about the bell.
Roy flushed a little. "Aren't you rushing things a little?"
Link waved at him dismissively. "Nonsense. You and Marth have been going out for like, a year and a half now, and you've been going steady for how long?"
"A little more than four months now."
Link opened up his textbook for the first time in three years. "So you know, maybe it's time for him to step up to the plate and swing." He wasn't sure if that was the right metaphor, but he didn't really care. "Maybe he wants to make an honest man outta you."
Roy blinked. "You make it sound like he got me knocked up or something."
Link poked Roy's abdomen with the eraser side of his pencil. "That'd be something." He then rubbed it like there actually was a baby in there.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"You have nice abs. Oh, and your shirt is buttoned wrong."
Roy pushed Link's hand away then. "Anyway."
"I mean Roy, listen to me. Going to the park at this time of year, when the cherry blossoms are in bloom, is probably the most romantic thing aside from going to Hawaii."
Roy looked puzzled. "Hawaii…?"
"It's some place Zelda keeps talking about. 'S supposed to be really nice."
"Oh."
"Anyway." Link wanted the topic back to Marth and Roy. "I swear he's gonna ask you to be his…uh… Well. His partner person dude guy."
"Mewtwo-sensei, are we doing anything today?" Dean asked.
Mewtwo was busy reading the newspaper. "Not unless you want to teach the class."
Dean sighed, disappointed. "Man, I wanted to immerse myself in Japanese culture, just like those videos you make us watch."
"Well tough shit."
Dean looked slightly affronted. "Mewtwo-sensei, you act like my German teacher, Meister Schuldig."
Mewtwo laughed evilly. "That's because Schuldig and I often swap tips on how to torture the students. It's easier for him, though, because he can easily screw with people's heads by listening to their thoughts and…'suggest' things. I have to think about it and think of better ways."
Dean didn't know what to say. "Whaddya mean he can listen to people's thoughts?"
Mewtwo put the paper down and gave Dean a look. "He's a telepath."
Dean stood from his seat, knocking his chair over and almost up-ending the desk. "What?!"
Suddenly, Mewtwo blurted out, "Have you ever watched Live Pastel Collection, Dean?"
Dean nearly fell to the floor. He wasn't expecting such a question. Neither were the rest of his classmates, for they looked at Mewtwo with a look that said, collectively, "What the frig?"
"Uhm, a little," Dean admitted when he fell onto his seat. "Why?"
"Which one?" Mewtwo pressed.
"2005, I think."
Mewtwo hummed slightly. His suspicions were correct.
"What the heck does this have to do with anything?" Kweenetra asked, not understanding what was going on.
"All of my students who do that whole routine you just did have all watched that particular segment. Usually they're boys, and the girls swoon over it and say incomprehensible things."
No one spoke for a moment.
"Apparently it's only interesting when hot people do it."
-x-
"Do you have an idea about what Mewtwo's whole thing was about?" Link asked as he and Roy walked to the third floor.
Roy shook his head.
"Well, you remember what Marth did during exams freshman year, right?"
Roy thought back to two years ago, during midterms for Mewtwo's class.
"Mr. Lowell, stop cheating or I will rip up your exam," Mewtwo warned the prince. He had eyes like a hawk, but the sad part was Marth wasn't even cheating.
Marth, affronted, stood abruptly from his seat, knocked his chair over and almost got hung up on his desk.
"What?!" he screamed, ignoring the chaos he was causing.
"Oh yeah," Roy said. "The whole desk thing."
"Well apparently, it's in some show called 'Live Pastel Collection 2005'," Link went on.
"Marth's not into all that Japanese voice actor event stuff, though," Roy said, "so I doubt he'd watched it beforehand."
Link tapped his pencil against his chin in thought. "It's too big of a coincidence."
They walked up the stairs to get to their sixth period classes – AP English for Link, History for Roy. Both needed to go up two flights of stairs in order to get to the third floor, which meant that no matter what staircase they went up, it would be extremely busy and slow-moving. After shoving through the crowds, they both went past the front desk – each of them grabbing the school magazine aptly titled 'Melee Academy's NINTENDIAN POWERZ' – and continued on their merry way.
On their journey, they spotted Dedede and Ganondorf in a fight with each other. It was quite a sight to behold – Dedede staring up at Ganondorf, fists clenched and teeth bared. Ganondorf looked unfazed by everything and simply crossed his arms.
"What is your point, Dedede?"
Dedede gulped, though most didn't notice. "You must practice the blackest magics! That makes you a warlock! …Or at least a very bad man."
Ganondorf laughed from deep within his throat. "How long did it take you to figure that one out? Enlighten me."
There was a ring of students inching closer and closer each second. Everyone was interested in what was going on, save for Link and Roy, who just kept on walking. They didn't care about the accusations Dedede was throwing at Ganondorf.
"Maybe Dedede should live with us for a while," Link said as they came to his class. "Then he could see that Ganondorf really is that evil."
Roy simply shook his head as they said their goodbyes; Roy continued his trek around the hall and was surprised to see Terry and his group of fanpoodles trailing behind him.
"Well if it isn't Pherae," Terry said with a sneer that would make even Draco Malfoy look down on him. One of the so-called 'sluttiest' male cheerleaders was practically making out with Terry's neck, complete with the schmoopy sounds no one really wanted to hear. Roy pretended he neither heard nor saw Terry and tried to go on his way. Terry didn't like that, however. Breaking the one fanpoodle's grasp on him, he lunged straight for the general, grabbed his arm, and flung him into the lockers. Roy hissed from the pain and was greeted by Terry's chocolate brown eyes.
"What the hell?" said Roy through grit teeth as he tried to wish away the pain creeping up his spine. "Do you mind?"
Terry smirked and got right in Roy's face. "When I say hello to you, you answer me."
Roy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Since when was there a law saying I had to?"
"Since I decided you high and mighty sons-of-bitches needed to get off your goddamned horses and look at us."
"I did nothing to you," Roy argued. "All I did was get together with Marth. Is that a capital offence punishable by bullying or something? Because if it is, grow the hell up and act like an adult. I have no time to waste with five year olds in the sandbox arguing over something utterly stupid."
There was an audible crack and Roy yelped. Terry hoped he broke Roy's wrist.
"See? This is what I'm talking about. Well guess what? I don't give a fuck about you and Marth dating!" He punctuated every word with a twist of Roy's probably-broken wrist, and Roy was trying to figure out just where to kick him so he'd back off.
"Then why do you harass me so much, Terry? Is it because you like me and you're just too dumb to come out and say it?"
Terry let go of Roy's wrist and instead pinned his shoulders to the lockers.
"I mean, really, that's so second grade," Roy continued. "And I don't date second graders, either. That would make me a borderline paedophile."
Terry grabbed Roy's head and aimed for the kill. Roy had never felt so violated in his entire life.
"Ohmigod, Terry-chan~! Are you daijoubu?" one of his fanpoodles said in typical Weeaboo Japanese.
Terry was too busy clutching his mouth to respond. It was hard to talk anyway with a half-bitten-off-tongue in your hand, anyway. And he was too blinded by pain to run after the red head, so he instead settled for cursing at him in his head.
Roy went into the nearest bathroom, ran over to the nearest stall, and promptly threw up.
You'd throw up too if Terry – whose breath smelled like a mixture of garlic and old gym socks – shoved his tongue in your mouth. Once he was done reviewing his lunch, he weakly walked out of the stall, saw no one in there still, and decided to text Marth about what had just happened.
When Marth heard his phone vibrate, he figured it was Link being stupid with the chain texts. He reached for the phone concealed on his desk just as his students began working on their note-taking, and clicked on the '1 unread message' box that was flashing at him.
Terry fucking shoved his tongue down my throat, the message read, and upon seeing it was from Roy, Marth felt the need to hunt Terry down and shove the cellular device in a very uncomfortable area. After all, no one messed with Marth's loved ones and got away unscathed. But since Marth was a teacher and in the middle of a lesson, he settled for texting Roy back and then slamming the phone back on the desk.
When Marth got up from his desk and asked a nearby teacher to watch his class, he opened and closed the door none-too-gently and nearly ripped the stairwell door off its hinges. Just where was Marth going?
To guidance. Marth had had enough of Terry's crap and was going to report it like he should have done two years ago.
-x-
For Roy, English was none-too-eventful. His teacher was starting on The Grapes of Wrath, and the class groaned at the mere thought of reading something longer than two paragraphs.
"But this book is exciting!" Mario said as he tried to get everyone else as hyped up as him. "It's about how the government isn't very good when it comes to certain things and we might be able to relate and—"
"Who cares?" asked one student. Others murmured in agreement. Roy was staring out the window and didn't care one way or another.
"Everyone pick up your pens and pencils and copy down the notes I have on John Steinbeck."
Roy sighed as he looked at his now-useless hand. It was put in a brace similar to what kids used to protect their wrists whilst roller-blading, in case they fell.
Stupid Terry spraining my wrist. He was lucky it wasn't broken, Dr. Mario told him. But then I could have sued him for my medical bills and pain and suffering. He scoffed into his good hand and decided taking notes wasn't worth the pain.
The classroom phone rang and Mario, being quite short, couldn't really reach it. He nearly tripped over someone's bag trying to get to where it was to begin with, and now he had another obstacle to overcome. So one of the students took the receiver off the cradle and handed it to him.
"Yes, thank you," he said in his thick Italian accent as he placed the phone to his ear. "Hello, room 306." He listened intently to the person on the other end; Mario looked about the room and saw the person they were asking for, so he replied with, "Yes, he is here. …I'll be sure to send him. No problem. Bye." He then handed the receiver back to the student and they hung up the phone.
Mario strolled back to the front of the room and wrote out a hall pass.
"Roy, guidance wants you," he said as he ripped the paper off the pad's backing. Roy said nothing, just grabbed his things, took the note, and left. He didn't even ask any questions, like what the hell did he do to go there in the first place. He had a hunch, anyway.
"Ooh, I bet he did something bad!" said one student, and Mario immediately told them to be quiet and continue to take notes.
Roy walked the very short distance to the guidance suite and slid the door open before taking a look around. For once, the place was almost completely deserted, save for the secretary and the students who worked there for work credits. He slid the door closed and walked over to the secretary.
"I was called down here for something?"
The secretary, a rather large woman with a tired face, looked up at him and gestured to his counselor's door. "Your counselor wishes to talk to you about an incident that happened earlier."
Oh great, I'm in trouble for almost biting someone's tongue off in self-defence. Wonderful, Roy thought as he thanked the woman and walked to his counselor's. Just wait until Father hears about this. It'll be enough to kill him.
He knocked on the door jamb out of courtesy since the door was open, and was surprised to see Marth was in there as well.
"Ma—Mr. Lowell? What are you doing here?"
His counselor cleared his throat and closed the door for privacy.
"Mr. Lowell contacted me with some rather disturbing news," Mr. Twelve said as he gestured for Roy to sit in one of the chairs. Roy stiffly sat down next to Marth and looked at the computer desk instead.
"What news is this?"
Mr. Twelve too sat down and turned to face them both. "I'm not going to get into exactly how you managed to find out Mr. Lowell's cell phone number, but apparently he received a text message from you saying that Mr. Bocheski 'effing shoved his tongue in my mouth'." He then looked to the red head for clarification.
"He did." Roy managed to stare back into Mr. Twelve's eyes. "If I'm remembering my laws correctly, that's sexual assault."
Mr. Twelve cleared his throat and grabbed another piece of paper. "Well, Mr. Bocheski wrote a testimony stating that you egged him on through taunting and teasing. He said, 'Roy kept saying, 'Don't you love me?' and I went, 'No! No, of course not!' because I knew he was already in a relationship with'—"
Mr. Twelve then stared at the paper. Clearly this was the first time he had seen said testimony, since he gazed surprised at the words on it.
"Yes?" Marth said, clearly wanting this to be over with so Terry could get his just desserts. "Roy is in a relationship. What does this have to do with anything? There is evidence that Terry shoved his tongue into Roy's mouth. Regardless of whether or not Roy was taunting or teasing or doing anything to provoke him, Terry could have just walked away." He spoke like a lawyer on Law and Order.
"That isn't the point, Mr. Lowell. I am just telling you what Mr. Bocheski—"
"Isn't his last name Bochefski? Everyone I know says Bocheski and it bothers me because there's an 'f' in there." Roy was confused all the while due to them not pronouncing it correctly.
Marth crossed his arms. "…I believe that's what it is."
Mr. Twelve was getting a little annoyed. "That isn't the point."
"Then what is? I reported it because Terry's been terrorizing Roy and I for two years. I thought that once I graduated it would stop. But he's instead turned his sights on Roy, and this was the last straw."
Mr. Twelve sighed. "Mr. Pherae, what is your side of the story?"
Roy kicked at the floor as he recounted what had happened before sixth period that day. Marth winced when Roy described, in really gruesome detail, the cracking his wrist made, and both he and Mr. Twelve discreetly shuddered when Roy talked of biting Terry's tongue.
"I didn't bite it almost off, though," Roy finished. "It was a little worse than when you bite it accidentally from eating something. He's blowing it all out of proportion."
Mr. Twelve wrote something down on loose-leaf once Roy was all done.
"I'm going to talk to Master Hand and have him press charges on Terry on my behalf," Roy said as he gestured to his wrist. "This affects my ability to perform in the Tournament, and as you know, that's the only reason I can go here for free, so I'm also going to sue him for pain and suffering and any medical expenses I've collected because of this."
Mr. Twelve nodded and made note of it.
"There's something else I wanted to talk about," he said as Roy and Marth got up to leave. They sat back down, Marth a little more gracefully than Roy.
"What is it?" Roy asked. After all, he had class to return to, and Marth wasn't on his prep period yet.
Mr. Twelve looked very uncomfortable, but it was only noticeable for a split second before he launched into his question.
"Are you two…involved with each other?"
There was the sound of shattered glass, and someone muttered, "Shit!" outside the door.
"It's rather complicated," Marth admitted. "Complicated and rather long."
Mr. Twelve leaned back in his chair, which made a squeaking noise in response. "I've got time, Mr. Lowell."
Marth inhaled deeply, held it for a moment, and then released it, as if mentally preparing himself.
"Well… As you know, I was a Fourth Year here last year and…Roy and I were seeing each other then."
"Then he became a teacher and I didn't know what to do—"
"—and we didn't really know who to ask, so—"
"—we just decided to keep it hush-hush," Roy finished, ending the verbal ping-pong conversation.
Mr. Twelve took more notes, like he was some sort of psychiatrist. (Truth be told, Mr. Twelve majored in Psychology and aspired to become a psychiatrist. Then Master Hand told him only wimps became psychiatrists, so he ended up as a guidance counselor. He was not really thrilled with his job.)
"How old are you, Roy?"
"Seventeen."
Mr. Twelve then looked to Marth. "And you are what, twenty?"
"Nineteen going on twenty." Marth didn't want to be any older than he already was.
Mr. Twelve sighed once more. "It's still illegal on a technicality since he's a minor."
"But the Romeo and Juliet Clause states that there can be up to four years between a couple before it isn't legal," Roy said, shifting in his seat.
Mr. Twelve leaned forward in his seat. "That is for heterosexual couples only, I'm afraid. The law states that two people involved in a homosexual relationship must be of legal age." And then, when he saw the glare from Roy, added, "I didn't make the legislation."
Marth folded his hands and rested them on his crossed knee. "What about students who are in a relationship with their teachers?"
"It's a little more complicated than that. The law dictates that, since you are in a position of authority over Roy here, you could potentially abuse that power and use him for your own gratification. Once he is eighteen that becomes less of a legal issue and more of a moral one."
"But Marth and I were involved before all of that," Roy piped in. "So what then?"
Mr. Twelve shrugged. "It is my understanding that you would have to end the relationship until you were of the proper age, or… There is one exception."
Roy leaned forward in his seat. "And that would be what?"
There was a small silence. What sounded like a cart moved past the door and the sounds of broken glass hitting metal permeated through the wood of the door. Roy felt a calloused hand graze against his own and looked to see it was Marth's. He took it and squeezed it gently, thankful for the silent reassurance that everything would work out.
"If you two were to be married… Or, rather, have a legal union as it is called for your joining… There would be no issue and we would have to honour and acknowledge your relationship."
The bell signaling the end of seventh period rang; it also signaled the end of the discussion at hand, and the beginning of Marth's plan.
-x-
Roy and Marth walked to the cafeteria for eighth period study in silence. The hallways smelled of lemon Mr. Clean and evergreen Pine-Sol, so their shoes squeaked along the newly-washed linoleum. The halls were also not as busy or as noisy as they usually were, and when they did pass by a group of students, they were whispering about the latest gossip. ("Did you hear about Terry?" whispered one boy to his friend as he eyed Roy coming down the hall.)
"I suppose everyone knows what happened between Terry and me," Roy said at last.
"Yes, but probably not the entire story," Marth replied. "He's probably spreading some heavily embellished story around to make him look like the victim."
They entered the cafeteria and saw Terry at one of the tables surrounded by his group of like-minded peers.
"So then I shoved him against the locker and basically told him he was an asshole," Terry said to his best friend Philippe. "An asshole who needed to stop being all high and mighty and at least acknowledge my existence. But no. So then I guess I snapped and I sort of broke his wrist. But that bastard deserved it."
They continued on to find an empty table and saw one in the back by the snack bar. Roy collapsed into one of the chairs, Marth next to him.
"Roy…"
"I won't be eighteen for another nine months," Roy said drearily. "…That means we shouldn't even be together until then."
Marth grasped Roy's chin and made him look at him. "Don't say that."
Roy laughed bitterly. "It's true."
Just when Marth was going to say something else, Roy interrupted him.
"Maybe we should have never gotten back together. Then we wouldn't be in this mess."
Marth let his hand drop from Roy's face and he instead tightly grasped his lover's hand.
"Roy, don't do this. Don't say it. You know in your heart that you don't want history to repeat itself again."
Roy sniffled. "I'm sorry, Marth…"
Marth shook his head. "No. You are not going to hurt me like I hurt you. You are not going to do the exact thing I did to you. We both know how it stabbed both of us in the heart."
Roy sniffled once more. Marth took Roy's face in both hands and wiped away his tears. Roy rested his hands on top of Marth's and bit his lip.
"You can't just give up so easily, Roy. We've come so far—too far—to just…let it go. I'm not giving up on us. You're not going to give up on us, either. Otherwise that talk we had a few weeks ago was meaningless."
Roy was shocked when Marth moved his chair closer and embraced him tightly. Marth didn't care who saw him, if they condemned them both in their minds.
"Sometimes I think my life would be so much easier if we had never met," Roy muttered into Marth's shoulder.
"It would be," Marth answered, petting Roy's hair. "But then it would also be very boring."
One of the other kids in Roy's study period came over with a rather confused look on her face.
"Mr. Lowell, where's the rest of the class?" Stephenie asked.
"Cutting," Marth replied. "If you don't want to stay, you're welcome to go elsewhere."
Stephenie squealed and immediately ran over to where Nicholas was. He grinned widely, linked their arms together, and ran out of the cafeteria to God only knew where.
"You know, something just occurred to me," Roy said as he crossed one of his legs with Marth's.
"What?"
"We haven't really cuddled much recently." Roy looked understandably downcast. "I miss it."
Marth blinked in surprise. "You want us to cuddle here? Now?"
Roy shrugged. "Why not? We're in the back corner of the cafeteria. No one's looking at us. No one would even care. Terry and his brood might even find it hot."
"No, Terry would only find it hot if it was something sexual," Marth corrected.
So, for old time's sake, Marth and Roy cuddled together in the back corner of the cafeteria, and contrary to what Roy said, everyone was staring. But they were staring more because the teacher they had a crush on was taken and cuddling with someone who wasn't them.
Then Ike entered the cafeteria and diverted all of the attention, much to Marth's and Roy's relief.
-x-
"You know, Marth," Roy said as they entered the park, "you were right. This is scenic."
"What's even better is that there are few people around," Marth pointed out. "So we have the whole park to ourselves, pretty much."
They walked, hand-in-hand, staring at the cherry blossom trees that lined their path, until they reached what Roy would call a field and Marth would call a meadow. It was somewhat secluded and it was near the back of the park, so it was practically deserted. There was a small pond in the middle that reflected the trees in the water and had fish and the odd frog in there.
"Okay, forget 'scenic'," Roy said, "this is more 'romantic' than anything else."
Marth laughed. "It's a date, isn't it? Aren't they supposed to be romantic? Besides…" Marth flushed a little. "There's something I want to do here with you."
Roy chuckled. "Oh, Marth, I didn't know you were one to roll around in the grass!"
Marth turned the colour of Roy's hair. "I didn't mean that! Remember that folder I showed you?"
Roy nodded. "Yeah, that really big one."
"Well, that's why we're here. I wanted some privacy, so I took you to this meadow—"
"Field."
"It's a meadow, Roy. As I was saying, I wanted some privacy, so I brought you here."
"By 'privacy', you mean 'I didn't want us bothered by Link'."
Marth pulled Roy into the clearing and sat him down by the pond.
"So are you gonna tell me what this is all about?"
Marth took a deep breath. "Just as soon as I've figured out a way to really word it."
"I'm not asking for some eloquent speech, I'm asking for an explanation."
Marth took Roy's good hand in both his hands and used that as his focus.
"As you know, we've been going out for a year now, and we've been going steady for quite a while… It's been a long road filled with pot holes and detour signs and broken down traffic lights, but…I wouldn't wish to redo any of it."
Roy giggled. "I wouldn't, either."
Marth continued on with his speech. "You mean the world to me, Roy. When I wake up and see you there next to me, slumbering away, I can't help but think I don't deserve someone like you. Someone who actually understands me, who doesn't care about my title or my power or money or anything like that. You love me for me, for my flaws, for all the good things I do. We get into fights sometimes—"
"Over stupid things like whose socks are on the floor," Roy added.
"—but in the end, we start laughing over how trivial it was. It brings us closer together and…I've never felt this close to anyone before outside of my family, so… I have but one thing to ask you, Roy."
Without Roy having realized it, Marth had a ring half-way on his finger. He must have been mesmerized by Marth's speech creating skills to have not noticed. He looked from the ring to Marth and then back again, before it dawned on him what Marth was about to ask.
"Roy… Forgive me if this sounds too forward, but… Let me be the one who always wipes away your tears, the one you always come to for comfort. Let me be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night. Let me take you and never let you go. Allow me to give you my heart and tell you it's yours forever so long as you accept this."
Roy didn't know how to really put how he was feeling into words, so he instead pushed his hand against Marth's, effectively sliding the ring onto his finger all the way; he then wrapped his arms around Marth's neck and kissed him with renewed passion.
"You were the only one anyway," Roy whispered against Marth's lips.
From behind one of the bushes in the park, Link held out his hand, palm up, expectantly. Ike groaned and handed over fifty dollars; Zelda, Peach, and Young Link did the same thing.
"I told you," Link whispered as he counted the money he made. "But no, you guys said it was impossible. Well! I proved you all wrong."
Peach clasped her hands together and sighed wistfully; Zelda dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and tried not to cry, lest Peach follow suit.