Hi, everyone! Here's to the first week conquered! (For anyone still in school for the week, hang in there!) I'm posting early because I'll be out of town this weekend. That's also why it's so short. I tried to make it interesting, though, and I hope you enjoy it all the same~

Awkwardness. Pure, soul-crushing awkwardness.

I sat there nibbling on a dry piece of toast on the far end of the table. Sandy was being fawned over by Thalia's friends. The girl had made an effort to introduce me, but the others had fixed me with thin, polite smiles and the social "hello, how are you?" before turning their attention to Sandy. He didn't look very uncomfortable, either, with the exception of a few personal questions that made him wince. I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but…

"I can't imagine it! Your whole life?" one girl asked, making Sandy cringe and look away. Thalia lightly shoved her with a stern frown.

"You can't just keep bringing it up! It's not like he IS the disability."

"Jeez, sorry."

"That aside, were you really the manager for the girls' swim team in high school?" another of the girls asked him, and Sandy smiled bashfully.

"No-one like him," Thalia said. "He's super responsible and kind and just-! So cute!" Thalia was hugging Sandy like she'd done yesterday. Now Sandy was looking extremely flustered, and I was feeling more than a little unwanted. Before I could decide to get up and leave, however, one of the girls, a doe-eyed brunette, turned to speak to me.

"So, um…are you a junior?"

"Sophomore," I replied automatically. The girl gave a little sound of acknowledgement and looked away again. I sighed and sipped my coffee.

"Um…you're in the painting class, right? I saw you yesterday."

"Mr. Hildebrand? Yes. Wait, you're in there?" I put my cup down and looked at the girl quizzically. She fidgeted under my gaze, but nodded.

"Yes. I was working near the windows where it's lighter, but I saw you painting in the back, n-near the cupboards…" she took a bite out of a small muffin, and ate it politely before speaking again. "Um, I…I saw your art last year, too, when they put it up…it was nice…"

"Um, thanks," I had no other reply to the sudden compliment. The girl stared at me for a moment before going back to her muffin, and the awkwardness returned.

I ended up leaving for class before everyone else. I had time in the art studio again, and I could work on the painting that the doe-eyed girl – I had forgotten to ask her name – had praised. It wasn't much, I thought, just a watercolor of a Shetland pony grazing in a foggy meadow. About halfway through the period, I got a text from Sandy.

Can u come meet me the library?
It's important

I replied back that I could make it after the period was over, and all he replied was:

Okay

No punctuation, no cute emoticons, just a single word. I felt uneasy, as if something was incredibly off balance with what I thought I knew.

You expect he's found his true place. A place without you, right?

I cringed.

He has other friends. You saw. He wants to be with them and not you.

He's leaving you, see? Even his message was disinterested. What a fool you are, Pitch.

I shoved my phone into my pocket, beginning to feel ill. I looked back to my painting and for some reason it wasn't as simple as before. The meadow I had painted seemed so hopelessly lonely, with just the single pony eating the light green grass amidst the white fog. I felt a stormy pang of jealousy in my heart and wondered if I should have felt so hurt.

I put away my things a little before the end of the class and slipped out the moment we were dismissed. There were several students milling about, going to and from classes or passing the time between lessons. The library was near the main building, and though it wasn't enormous one certainly couldn't miss it. I went in and texted Sandy again.

Where are you?

Back of language section near the armchairs

I headed up the stairs to the reference section of the library. No-one looked up at me from their books and laptops, which I was grateful for. As he'd said, Sandy was slumping in an armchair at the back of the reference section, near the language books. I sat down in a chair close to him, fixing him with an apprehensive gaze. He looked at me in nearly the same way before pulling his notepad out of his bag and writing something down to hand to me.

I'm sorry about this morning.

"Sandy, believe me when I tell you that nothing is your fault," I said. "You have nothing to apologize for."

I wanted us to be friends. What kind of friend am I, to just disregard you like that?

"Sandy." I shook my head. "I'm telling you, I'm not upset."

Yeah, not upset, just sad and lonely and confused and desperate for your attention.

My face gave me away. Sandy frowned sadly at me before writing something else.

This is kind of frustrating.

"What is?"

How much I want to see you happy.

"Sandy…?"

I thought I'd decided a long time ago not to let anyone affect me like this. But here I am. He smiled wearily at me. This was a look so mournful and aged that I felt like I was seeing a different person in the chair next to me. Sandy looked away from me then, fidgeting with his pen hovering above the paper.

If there was one thing I was good at sensing, it was when people were afraid. There was an acute aura of fear and worry coming from Sandy, and it both alarmed and intrigued me to whatever he was hoping to say. Finally, he wrote a question in clear, deliberate script:

If you don't mind me asking, what's your orientation, Pitch?

"Orientation…y-you mean, like…!" I gulped at the realization of what Sandy was leading into. He fixed me with another smile.

"Sandy…are you saying you like me?"

Ka-boom! What do you think? Was that nice and suspenseful? I'm sorry if there are any errors, as I'm very tired and posting this early because I need to get to bed and will be out of town tomorrow. Please review if you have any new input. Thank you all~!