(no subject)

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Nobody talked to the kid with the dreads.

Nobody knew if he'd been held back with the jocks, or if he'd just hit the world's worst growth spurt, but the long, lanky highblood seemed to top everyone else in stature, even the select little clique of seadwellers, all of whom had taken to muttering about him indiscreetly. Of course, it didn't help his image that he wandered the halls with the dazed expression of the perpetually baked. He'd already been forced to stop painting his face by the faculty to keep from distracting others in his classes. As if that was really what everyone was focusing on.

He was intelligent, even brilliant according to some of the instructors, but that didn't count for anything when none of his homework was turned in, either coming up missing or simply forgotten, or occasionally doodled on. He never took notes and rarely remembered to bring his textbooks. The only class he did well in, for that matter, was his visual arts elective and even then, he rarely stayed on task, often speeding through the lessons then slinking away to one of the broken-down loveseats what were used for the occasional sit-in model for life drawing sessions.

He was a flake, and ninety percent of the time, he was alone.

Fourth block Gym was never something that he participated in. He simply stayed long enough to be counted there for role call, then slipped out easily to settle down behind the gymnasium where the security guards never went, sitting on the ground in the shade in his gym clothes and packing a bowl out of sight where the smoke would be whipped away by the breeze.

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[princeofmelodrama]

A stark contrast to the head of the school council, and president of at least three clubs, Eridan Ampora. As heavy of a pressure it was to be the head of the three extracurricular clubs, and still maintain a high enough grade to be on the honor roll, Eridan had taken it as a personal challenge. He juggled the responsibilities and the workload of classes with ease, even managing to come up with a little spare time to be on the swim team, as all the seadwellers were. It was like an obligation, with the royal blooded kids, to be a part of the swim team, although not technically on the books, the pressure was there.

So he had to find time to stay in shape on the off-season, having to work out three times a week to keep up. He usually took his off periods to do just that. And that's what he was doing now. In his jogging pants and t-shirt, he had his earbuds in as he decided to stray off of his usual course of using the track - as it was currently commandeered by a class - and did laps around the school, instead.

That's when he smelled the smoke. He recognized it, though he didn't ever admit to why. He noticed the school's resident future dropout leaned up against the wall of the gym and he veered up onto the grass to stand there in the way of what little sun still lingered in the shade.

"Could get expelled for that," he said, trying to sound impartial. It came off as judgmental.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee simply gave him a lopsided little smile and dug his fingernail into the pipe briefly to scrape it then press it again, his head tilted to one side as he eyed Eridan. Where the seadweller sounded condescending, Gamzee simply came off as amicable, as if it was a genuine pleasure to be talking to him.

"Come on motherfucker, you and I both know they don't give enough of a shit about me to go through all that motherfuckin' paperwork."

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan stood there, unable to contest that. It was as if this kid had been gliding by on a wing and a prayer this whole damn time. He'd seen him in some advanced classes they'd taken together and, really, it was a surprise he hadn't been kicked out by how rarely he'd turned in assignments.

Eridan sighed and ran his hand through his hair, still standing above the other. Well shit. "Makara, right? I should report you to the principal for this, but..." Well, really, why even bother? He was doing a good enough job fucking himself up on his own. "You just shouldn't be smokin' that on campus."

Why the fuck was he even being lenient? Eridan had the reputation for being a hardass with basically everybody else, but this guy.

He blamed it on pity.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee unfolded himself and stood up, standing at least a foot taller than Eridan even without the additional length of his horns. He was still wearing that peaceful little smile that always seemed to be there. He took a moment to take one last hit before tucking his lighter into the pocket of the shorts that barely seemed adequate to cover any more than the average pair of underwear did. His shirt drooped off one shoulder and he really did look as if he'd simply just rolled out of bed.

On the way back into the gymnasium, Gamzee patted the center of Eridan's chest amiably the disappearing inside without another word.

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan looked up at the highblood and gave him a stern look, about to say something just a split second before Gamzee turned and walked away.

He set his jaw and scowled. What the fuck just happened? He just walked away like it was nothing. It seemed to Eridan that Makara just floated through life. He tucked his tongue against the side of his teeth and then turned back around to start running again.

He didn't see the other until the last period of the day. By then, he'd completely turned the situation over in his mind, and had come to a conclusion. Before class started, Eridan walked up to Gamzee and put his hand on the other's desk.

"You're probably failin' this class, too, aren't you." It wasn't a question; he'd seen Makara's name at the bottom of the test results that were posted pretty consistently. "You need a tutor or somethin'? I got a list a tutors you could talk to." He happened to be on that list, but he reserved that information because he still hadn't figured out exactly where he stood with this guy. He didn't much care for the laziness, definitely didn't care for the casualness, and it was obvious - at least from Eridan's perspective - that this guy simply didn't care.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee looked down at the hand on his desk, then up the length of the arm to raise an eyebrow at the owner of it, leaning back in his seat and giving him a shrug. "Guess I am. Ain't nobody taken an interest in all that before. You got an angle here broham?" He tilted his head and gave Eridan a crooked little grin, clucking his tongue against the back of his overlong teeth. He tucked his pen behind his ear, leaving the paper he'd been idly scribbling on the desk. It was supposed to have been their study guide for the weekend from the previous class, but instead it was mostly scribbled in, various portraits in the cleaner corners, surrounded by disconcerting, vague imagery.

At the offer of a tutor, Gamzee shook his head and grabbed for his binder under his chair. It was dilapidated, looking as if he'd had it all throughout his high school career, packed with paper and a couple of folders but not much else. He tucked his pen away only to take out another one and go back to work.

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan couldn't help but look at the drawings, impressed, but upset that they were being drawn on worksheets that would eventually be thrown away and forgotten. "You shouldn't waste your talent on scrap paper," he said with a bit of a scowl, taking a seat in the nearby desk a row over from Gamzee.

"Not sayin' you need someone to help you understand it all, you wouldn't be in the advanced classes if you weren't able to comprehend the shit," he said with a wave of his hand, "But you need someone to keep you on task, keep you... y'know." He rolled his eyes as he noticed that Gamzee seemed to be paying no attention to him, so with a glare, he snapped his fingers in front of the highblood and continued, "You need someone to help you fuckin' focus."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee blinked and returned his attention to Eridan instead. "So what, you volunteerin' for that shit?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It wasn't condescending, simply a casual motion coupled with leaning back in his seat with his knee up against the underside of his desk. His head tilted as he examined Eridan. Handsome face, jewelry befitting any seadweller, radiating pomposity and decorum; typical royalty, in other words.

[princeofmelodrama]

At first, he was still glaring at Gamzee for having tuned him out, but at the question, he sat up, eyes widening slightly as his back straightened defensively. "I might," he said defensively, his eyes still affixed on the highblood's face. "There's others, if you'd be more comfortable havin' someone more like yourself to help you." He wasn't sure who he was giving that out to, himself or Makara.

The more he was able to think about it, he was trying really hard not to get close to this guy. He knew the guy's reputation for just being a scrub, a land-dwelling waste of time and space. He knew the guy had just been labeled weird, and off. Some people even said he was crazy. Eridan could see the weirdness, but didn't really recognize anything remotely resembling insanity. Just laziness.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Shaking his head, Gamzee simply laced his figners together around his pen, tapping his fingertips against it as he seemed to think this over.

"You know what? You're the first one to give half a shit what I do here. Probably all motherfuckin' self-servin' and shit but you know what? I like you, bro." He grinned and put his pen down, leaning against his elbow and poking the center of Eridan's chest lightly. "You think I need help huh? Talk at me after class so people aren't all up and motherfuckin' waitin' for you to sit down."

[princeofmelodrama]

Usually, acts of pity and charity were self-serving. That was what caught Eridan off-balance. What would he get out of this? Surely, the tutor program gave him some credits to go towards college, but that could have come from anybody, someone less likely to be a handful than this guy. Eridan stood from the seat he'd taken, and went to sit down in his assigned seat, rubbing his chest where Makara had poked it, and took out his books to start work at taking notes as the teacher came in to start the lesson.

When the final bell went off, Eridan had taken thorough notes, which were tucked neatly away into a folder specifically for the class, and tucked away in his book bag, alongside the rest of the books and folders. He kept one eye on Gamzee as he packed up, shouldering his bag before walking up to him. He nodded to the door. "We can get you signed up for the tutor program at the front office, an' if you're actually wantin' to do this, it's at least an hour a day after school, minus days I got to spend overlookin' clubs, twice a month." He didn't go into how at the start of swimming season, he'd be less available, but he wasn't even sure this guy could hack it for a week, much less the months before swimming started.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee looked back at him as he stood to follow with his binder tucked up under his arm.

The expressions of the people in the office ranged from surprised to skeptical when they handed over the papers, glancing between Eridan and Gamzee as if they fully expected it to fall apart before the end of the week. Gamzee was just looking around the very familiar room with his hands tucked into the pockets of his loose-hanging jeans. His shoes fit just as badly as his pants and soon he wouldn't be able to wear them at all the larger he grew and he seemed to realize this as he fidgeted a little in place, pulling his heels out of his tennis shoes and flattening the backs down more comfortably.

After his name had been put down on the paper he started back out into the hall to lean against the wall outside the door. There were a few looks shot his way, muttering about what he might have done to warrant being brought to the office again, the vast majority of it flying right over his head. He was simply wearing his soft smile, thumb flicking idly across his lighter and throwing tiny sparks.

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan was no stranger to the office, himself, but for far different reasons. He returned momentarily after finishing up the paperwork for the tutoring program, and stepped out, looking up at the other. "I'm goin' to need to know what classes you're doin' poorly in. If you're as bright as the assessment tests have the teachers believe, it shouldn't be much more than just workin' to get the assignments done. I'll be there to make sure you're organized, and got your shit together. Hate seein' a good brain go to waste. C'mon, we'll find a room to work in." He already had one in mind - it was out of the way of most everyone, and with the exception of winter pageants and spring plays, it was practically abandoned. He started down towards the theater, and not towards the classrooms.

He led the way down through the dark aisle of the theater, and walked through to the back of the stage, and then opened the door to the green room. It was silent, and strangely musty, with the scent of old smoke and long-forgotten makeup lingering in the air, but had its own stereo, was well lit, and had comfortable sofas and other seats. Most of the student body didn't even know that the room existed, and Eridan rather liked being one of the few who kept it in mind as a retreat. "An' I'll also need to know you're actually plannin' on doin' what's needed. If you don't actually fuckin' work at this, we're both gettin' in trouble for this."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

After flopping down onto one of the sofas and kicking off his shoes, Gamzee dug into the binder that was apparently his catch-all and held out his last progress report, detailing the classes that he was failing, the ones he was barely passing, and the two he seemed to be doing well in simply because he showed up, or in the case of his art class, passed with a reasonable score by doing basically the minimal work. It was supposed to have been taken home to his guardian for a signature, but judging by the wrinkles in the paper, it hadn't seen sunlight since it had been shut in the binder in the first place. With the other hand he popped a slightly bent cigarette between his lips then lit it and took a drag, taking care to blow the smoke away from them both.

"Look man, I'm here, I'm listenin'. Just...I dunno, what is it you do? What gives you all this motherfuckin' motivation to be runnin' around at nine hundred motherfuckin' miles an hour doin' every motherfuckin' thing you think you gotta be all up and doin' every day?"

[princeofmelodrama]

That was a fair question. He looked the report over with an increasingly furrowed brow. "I have ambitions, a plan for a future," Eridan explained, as he set the paper aside. "I want to change things in this world, influence an' bend it to becomin' somethin' better than it is, an' if I want to do that, I couldn't very well just by slackin' off now." He pulled out the textbooks for the classes they shared and set them down, knowing what assignments were due for them, handing over the notes he'd already taken for them. "High school's just the foundation in a larger structure. It may not be entirely useful for the things you learn in class, but it's instillin' how to keep yourself scheduled an' organized. Somethin' you clearly haven't taken to," he said with a nod to the ratty binder.

"Don't you want to change things? Make somethin' a yourself?"

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

"All I ever motherfuckin' seen highschool do to people's give 'em better reasons to avoid people for the rest'a their fuckin' lives and huge motherfuckin' inferiority complexes." Shaking his head, Gamzee sat back up and propped his elbow up against his knee, his head leaning against his hand as he glanced down at the textbook. "Man I've already read all that shit. Don't care to go through it over and over and most'a the fuckin' time they got their facts all up and motherfuckin' misconstrued. You want some real motherfuckin' learnin', go to the library. Find somethin' published outside'a this country. This shit's all patriotically weighted and all up and motherfuckin' brainwashin' shit."

[princeofmelodrama]

"I agree with you," sighed Eridan with a heavy roll of his eyes to the assessment of the assigned work, "But it's assigned, an' we got to play their game to get a grade. It's class A bullshit, an' I know it just as well as you. But it ain't what's in the book that's important, it's showin' you can do the work. Fuckin' play the game an' get ahead." He offered a fresh notebook and a pen. "Just gotta write what they told you to write, an' turn it in. It doesn't matter what outrageous bullshit it is they're tellin' you to do, once it's done, it shows you can play the game, an' they'll reward you for your stupid circus act." He closed his eyes, getting a bit irritated by the cigarette smoke.

"Fuckin' show 'em you can do this shit. Surprise the hell outta 'em, Makara."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

"Ain't nothin' good gonna come of it, just gonna draw all the motherfuckin' attention back to myself and ain't no motherfuckin' good gonna come." Shaking his head, Gamzee took the notes nonetheless and grabbed for the book so that he had a surface to work with as he answered the questions without paying much attention to anything else. It was obvious that he had in fact read all of it by the fact that he never had to flip the page or double check, simply writing the answers with a bored, sleepy expression. Before the ash from his cigarette could fall onto the paper he flicked it to one side, then licked his fingers and pinched out the cherry. He handed over the work when it was finished and went back to reclining against the arm of the couch.

[princeofmelodrama]

"You got a pretty fuckin' negative outlook on life if you think that sorta shit's gonna happen just 'cause you did a few assignments," Eridan said, checking over the work with a nod. "Listen, soon you're going to need some folders other than that ragged fuckin' binder to put these in. It'll keep you from gettin' disorganized an' forgettin' to turn your work in." He handed over another set of notes and looked up at Gamzee, holding back from looking as upset about how hopeless the guy seemed as he really was.

"You can do the work," he murmured, "so why don't you?"

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee just gave him a look and shook his head, holding out his hand for the next assignment. They may not have shared all of their classes, but for the ones they did he could at least use Eridan's books for it. That hadn't been a question he felt like answering.

Working quickly through the assigned homework, the smalltalk was more or less dropped, letting the tension take its place until Gamzee finally stood up, rubbing his hands over his face and starting toward the door. He tucked his work into one of the flaps of his binder before zipping it and holding it under one arm on his way out. He stopped with the door open, looking back at Eridan with a soft frown.

"Look man, it ain't like I don't fuckin' appreciate what you're tryin' to do, but I still don't get why. Don't none'a you get involved with me or anyone else ain't your motherfuckin' click without a reason."

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan looked up with a more pointed frown then, and then looked away. "What clique." He stood as well and grabbed his book bag, tucking the book that was still out under his arm. "I don't run with 'em, if you didn't notice." And that much was true; he had too many things to do, was spread so thin with what he'd signed up in that he didn't have a clique. He had many clubs of which he was a part, but he didn't eat at school, didn't establish himself as part of any particular clique. He was well liked, but stood away from everybody, distanced himself even from the people that considered him his friends. "An' I'm not even sure a my reasons yet. Figured I'd figure 'em out after a couple days."

He felt a little offended, though, that Gamzee had thought he was angling for something beyond trying to see if he could help. "You got a real case a seein' with your eyes closed," he said as he pushed his way through to leave first. "I'll wait for you tomorrow after school. Don't go smokin' on campus again." He paused as he was walking, rubbing his forehead. "There's a stand a trees just off school grounds that doesn't get checked. Just off the track, behind the bleachers. It's safe there."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee stared after him for a moment, then nodded, muttering, "Yeah, I know." He was already started in that direction when Eridan mentioned it. He lifted a hand before leaving the building, giving Eridan a most likely unseen wave then ducking off to head out toward whatever he intended to do with his night.

The following morning when he strolled into his first period chemistry class his face was painted in spite of the rules that had been set specifically because of him. He was wearing yesterday's clothes and his binder was held close to his body. This was one of those classes he did just passably in, as it was one of the only ones that couldn't be misconstrued without heading into the area of psuedoscience and outright bullshitting. His lab partner was absent at least, meaning that he would be left alone for the time being.

As soon as class began and he sat back, he started to nod off, his forehead supported by the heel of his hand.

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan had noticed the first thing; the same clothes two days in a row, and the sleepy behavior. He walked away from his partner during a minute where he could, and went to Gamzee's table, patting the other's shoulder. "Hey," he murmured. "C'mon, not the time or place for a nap," he scolded under his breath. "Makara."

A million possibilities started rolling around in his head. Was the kid unable to go home? What was the fucking situation? The teacher by then had looked up and scolded Eridan for leaving his table, and Eridan glared up to the front of the class. "I'm just lookin' out for my classmate," he snapped back, which caught a few looks from the other kids. Some whispered to each other about what the class president had to do with the stoner, and he ignored the looks.

He leaned down to murmur, "After class I got a free block. I want to talk with you if you don't got a class."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee's eye sat half open as he looked back at Eridan wordlessly, then closed it again until he'd gone back to his seat. He sat up to pay a little bit of attention nonetheless, never taking a note but absorbing every word. He had a notebook in front of him, newer than the paper that was wedged into his binder, half full of scribbles and aimless doodles between answers to the questions that had been assigned for the day. The notepad was closed as soon as the bell rang to let them out and shoved back into his binder. Next he had a literature class that he knew the teacher had given up on him in (and that Ampora wasn't in), meaning that he could sleep.

Come time for his third period art class though, he would have to be able to concentrate. It was a research day for a project that would count heavily toward their semester grade, and he actually enjoyed at least as much of the class as he was awake for. The fact that the teacher paid some attention to him definitely helped. After class he was taken aside as soon as the rest of the students left and sat down to talk. He was ten minutes late for the next class and by the time he got there his facepaint had been washed off, and he was holding a frozen sponge inside a plastic bag against his jaw, mostly obscured by his hair. He didn't want to go inside.

In fact, he didn't go inside, just lingering in the hall for a minute then turning to go just off campus to that safe, unmonitored place and sit down in the shade.

[princeofmelodrama]

And his presence was missed by one astute classmate. He fidgeted with his pencil as he barely paid attention to the teacher, fussing with his rings instead of taking notes. Once it was time to quietly read the assigned pages, he tucked his things into his bag and stood, murmuring that he had some important business to take care of. He was taken at his word about it, and he left the class, feeling almost guilty that he did with literally no reason outside of a deeply personal one. He started down one of the back stairs and ducked out of the exit, feeling like he should turn around and go back to class. He'd never skipped out on a class - even half of one - before.

He had a pretty fair idea of where he was going, however, and made his way back behind the bleachers, on the far end of the track. He saw the lanky form of the highblood there and shook his head as he dropped down into a crouch, simply quiet.

"Why didn't you go home last night?" he asked. The clothes and sleeplessness gave it away. "Look, I can't help you if you don't fuckin' talk to me. And believe it or fuckin' not, I actually want to help."