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[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]

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."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

"Th'fuck do you care for in the first place? Never motherfuckin' noticed me to begin with so why now?" He still couldn't shake the idea that there was some ulterior motive for Eridan's sudden involvement in his life. He fished in his pocket for a moment for his pipe and lighter, starting to scrape it with his fingernail again, the bag with its sponge sitting in his lap, the water leaking out of it. He flicked the lighter a couple of time before it caught, taking a hard hit and holding back a cough.

"Where you live anyway, man? I'm guessin' one'a those big motherfuckin' three-story places over in that big-ass fenced in neighborhood right?"

[princeofmelodrama]

"I..." Eridan felt his stomach drop at that. He'd noticed, but he had pressures. Obligations. If he had talked to the guy before, there would be no damn way his reputation could survive it. But he didn't care about that these days. Reputation would be tarnished, it'd be bright and squeaky, it didn't matter what he did, just as long as his grades never dropped and he fulfilled his obligations. Two more years of this, and he'd be free from that stupid hierarchical bullshit. He was fucking sick of being painted with the broad brush that the rest of the seadwellers had rightly earned. He had friends - distant, out of those obligations - that didn't meet some rigid, ridiculous standard due to caste or clique, and they were good people. If he hung out with them, he got looked at funny. He was fucking sick of it.

And here he was getting judged for it by someone who probably spent his whole fucking life dealing with the bullshit that the other royalty had given him. Probably just out of the fact that he was a highblood that didn't act the way they wanted. Shit, he knew that was the case. He'd seen the others push him around and watched him passively walk on like he'd given no shits. It made Eridan's stomach churn. He was never a part of that. He strove to change that. All while under a veil of pretense, he worked to change how school society did that shit. It never seemed to work.

He tensed at the other's on-the-nose guess. "Yeah," he muttered. "Just by the beach," he amended. "You're avoidin' my questions. Fuckin' answer 'em. I'm not gonna fuckin' sit here lettin' you pull this fuckin' paranoid, skate-through bullshit with me. Why didn't you go home last night?" He repeated, glaring at the highblood.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

The mellow high that he'd tried for was quickly being beaten back down again by the insistence and finally Gamzee turned back around to face him, putting his hand against Eridan's chest and pushing him back firmly but slowly enough that he wouldn't be knocked over. He gritted his teeth, wincing a bit as he did, his hair shifting some as he stared Eridan down. There was a bruised, ugly purple knot on his jaw just in front of his ear, bigger than the average fist could make. "Maybe I'm all motherfuckin' avoidin' answerin' 'em because that really ain't any'a your motherfuckin' business. You got your life, I got mine an' it don't motherfuckin' matter whether you like it or not." He grimaced and sat back again, his back pressed into the tree, his pipe back up at his lips.

"You're gonna be late for class you don't hurry up and go," he murmured a couple of seconds before the bell rang to let them out of the class they'd missed.

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan toppled but righted himself with a glare, shaking his head. "Fuck class. An' fuck you for lumpin' me in with the rest a 'em. An' y'know what? Fuck this. I fuckin' try to be helpful," he said as he stood, dusting off his pants, "try an' extend some fuckin' courtesy to someone that I might be interested in talkin' with an' looked like he needed someone to talk to, an' this is the bullshit I get repaid with? Yeah, I'll pass."

He grabbed his bag and gave one last glare to Gamzee. "You know, I was gonna fuckin' offer you to stay at the guest house if you wanted, maybe get you somewhere safer or somethin', clearly you don't got a safe place to be at night. But you been fuckin' avoidin' it 'cause you clearly can't fuckin' trust anybody. It's no fuckin' wonder you're alone all the fuckin' time." He huffed and started away. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

There were so many things that he wanted to yell after Eridan at that point. He nearly followed him back inside too, but whether it would be to confront him or to apologize, even he didn't know. He stood and stared after him, reeling back to throw his nearly empty lighter after him but thinking better of it and wandering off, leaving his melted icepack on the ground behind him.

For the rest of the week, he never appeared in class. His absence was noted and occasionally commented on, but otherwise, the world went on as usual regardless of his presence. There had been a few sightings by one student or another when they went off-campus, just an indistinct description of a very tall highblood on a longboard, wandering the beachfront or loitering out of the way. The occasional snide remark was made in Eridan's direction, but other than that nobody said anything else on the subject.

Graffiti had been popping up here and there in unexpected places, and never what someone would expect to be called graffiti; it was tasteful, reflecting an artist rather than a vandal. It didn't seem to connect to anything or hold any such meaning, it simply existed as a curiosity on the sides of old buildings that nobody really paid attention to or the backsides of unused dumpsters on the "bad" side of town or fences that nobody really looked at except to note that there was something there that wasn't before. It was surreal, often monochrome, and never signed.

[princeofmelodrama]

And it was a stab in his heart for running the guy off. Whether or not that was the highblood's intention, it was how Eridan felt.

When he went home on Friday, after classes were out and his club had finished, Eridan vented his frustrations to his guardian, who had the same amount of patience for bullshit as he did, and agreed, that it was a tricky situation, and to approach the young highblood with caution - he knew the boy's guardian, and 'capricious' was an understatement worthy of being called lighthearted parody, and likely how unfortunate the situation was at home - though Dualscar had a way of saying things without saying them. He skirted the issue with vagueness that Eridan followed and the way he did it made him fret. It didn't hearten Eridan at all. Nor did the fact that it was unlikely he'd see Makara outside in the places he would normally be.

He was still completely mindfucking the situation when school started the following Monday. He wanted to apologize for how he'd exploded on the other, and extend a hand again, to try and reach out. His mind wouldn't let go of that drowsy, sad-eyed look on Gamzee's face, looking like the world had died and he was just waiting for everyone to catch up that he'd given Eridan, behind the painted grin of white on a handsome, almost gaunt face.

He sighed as he set his bag down, looking over at the so-far empty seat from his own as he settled into the first class of the day, hoping that Gamzee would show up.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

When Gamzee showed it was twenty minutes late for class, in clean clothes and looking as if he'd at least eaten some time over the weekend, the usual peaceful look on his face that said that even though he was here, his mind clearly wasn't. He was carrying his binder under his arm, his hands hidden up in the sleeves of the overshirt he wore unbuttoned over a faded but serviceable wifebeater. He'd pulled his dreads up behind his head in a loose ponytail and for all anyone else could tell, it was like last week never happened.

After the interruption the class resumed easily and Gamzee slouched down in his seat beside his lab partner, who was giving him a strange sideways stare but otherwise saying nothing. The bruising on his face was covered up by the layer of white paint and for once, nobody was saying anything about that either.

[princeofmelodrama]

Gamzee's appearance did nothing to calm Eridan's nerves. He had hoped it would, but it didn't. He fussed with his rings as he took notes and helped his lab partner get the more complex details that went over his head, but he was clearly off in his own mental tangents. He knew he had to wait until at least lunch to talk to Gamzee at any length. Though at the end of class, he paused and waited until Gamzee had left his seat to make meaningful eye contact, just to get a brief understanding of where the highblood's emotional state was.

He sought him out at lunch. It was a rather rare thing to see the class president on campus shortly after the lunch bell rang, but he was on a mission to find the other. When he did find him, he was, as he knew he would be, alone, outside. It was raining, and there were few places on school grounds that were isolated and still out of the rain, and one of those was under a large awning on the back of the school, near the back of the library. He looked over at Gamzee from a distance, and squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath and sighing it out.

"I'm sorry for last week. It was insensitive a me to say what I did an', for the record, I wasn't actin' out a some stupid necessity to be magnanimous. What I mean to say..." He paused as he leaned against the wall. "What I'm sayin' is that I was hopin' to be friends with you. It's just... real hard tryin' to get to know someone who seems worried that I got some motives when I'm not like that."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee was sucking idly on a fountain drink purchased from a gas station up the road from the school, never coming up from it while Eridan talked, though he was paying attention, that much was made clear by the fact that he was actively watching the seadweller, his free hand shoved into his pocket. He waited until Eridan had finished speaking before holding out the drink, which turned out to be a mixture of sprite and some chemical juice slush drink they had on tap.

"Sorry I got you all motherfuckin' worried about me in the first place. Last thing I want's someone losin' focus over whatever dumb-ass motherfuckin' thing I'm doin' with myself."

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan looked at the drink then at Gamzee, taking it with a smile and sipping from it, almost sheepish at the offer. It was clear from how he hesitated that he rarely had anyone offer him anything, and didn't know exactly how to respond. He handed it back with a brief smile of thanks before shaking his head. "It'd be completely callous if I didn't worry about you. I saw the bruise, an'..." He shook his head. "Listen, you don't gotta think that way about what I do. If I think it's a waste a my time, I'm not goin' to do it. If I thought talkin' to you would be a waste a my time, I wouldn't a bothered. Makara, you aren't a waste a my time. An' I'm hopin' you don't think the same a me. An'... You're right, you were absolutely right in not havin' to tell me what was wrong. It was insensitive a me to be askin' that."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Someone taking the time to talk to him was a novelty in and of itself. Especially when it wasn't a teacher or some member of the faculty concerned about his grades or his habits. The fact that nothing bad had so far happened to him directly related to Eridan was also encouraging when he ignored the slight throbbing in his jaw. That was something he didn't intend to explain to anyone, least of all the apparent only friendly seadweller in the school.

"Gamzee," he said quietly, finally giving Eridan a soft, sincere smile.

[princeofmelodrama]

"Gamzee, then," murmured Eridan, who tucked his hands into his jacket pocket and burrowed into the scarf he had around his neck to keep the chill of the breeze from cutting too terribly at his sensitive skin and earfins.

"So can I... can I still help you get your grades up? It'd be good for you at least to try an' pretend like you gave a shit." His eyes darted back towards Gamzee with a hopeful look. It'd mean spending time he could explain to others with the highblood, while getting to know him better. Pretense was a dance for him, something he'd learned early on he'd have to get used to if he wanted to spend time with anyone outside of royalty. It'd keep most eyes off him. And although his guardian wasn't terribly thrilled with who he'd decided to tutor, and warned him away, he still wasn't the type to give up on someone, even as rocky as their friendship had started out being.

He knew that if he was caught in it being merely for friendly reasons and not merely academic, he'd have hell to pay. He knew from experience that nothing which didn't further him in some way to becoming a man of status and power would be looked down on and berated, and possibly taken out of his hide. He wasn't going to risk that. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and murmured, "If you don't mind that, I mean."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee started to fuss a little, putting his drink down on the cement then rearranging the scarf around Eridan's neck, lifting it a bit at his earfins to cover what he could. His hands dipped back into his pockets after that and he looked down at his feet, clad in secondhand-looking boots large enough to accommodate his feet.

"Still don't get why you care that motherfuckin' much about my grades," he muttered and picked his liquid lunch back up, sipping some on it as he leaned back against the wall. He slipped the slightly scrunched pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one out, lighting it with a new lighter and blowing the smoke out to where it would blow away on the wind away from Eridan. "I'm already pretty much fucked for this semester anyway."

[princeofmelodrama]

Flustered by the fussing, Eridan stood straight, watching with slightly wide eyes as Gamzee helped him with his scarf. His cheeks went violet and he murmured his thanks. "No reason, except it's really the only way I can get to spend time with anyone outside a clubs an' swimmin'," he said earnestly. "So unless you suddenly gain a profound interest in drama, history, or biology, I'm pretty much screwed outta havin' any time to spend with you." He shrugged a little at that. "That an' you're really too bright to be throwin' yourself down the drain like you're doin'. Like I said before." He looked down at his own shoes, in comparison to Gamzee's. His were nearly brand new running shoes - which he wore on the days he planned to train in prep for swimming - moderately raised at the heel to accommodate for his slightly digitigrade feet that only grew more and more so as he grew.

"I got a free period after lunch," he mentioned, "If you want to get somethin' other than that to eat," he smiled a little. "I know I can't think straight without food."

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

"What if I don't think it's throwin' anything down the drain? Ain't nowhere I wanna motherfuckin' go that I can't go without some asinine lil' motherfuckin' piece of paper tellin' me I made it through this motherfuckin' drone factory," he gestured back to the school, then looked back to his drink, starting to chew the end of the straw. He didn't have any free periods, but as he might as well have given the next one was P.E. and according to the attendance record, he hardly ever missed one. If he really had to have an excuse, Eridan could potentially write a note for him, given that he was officially on the record as his tutor.

"So what, you got some idea what you wanna eat or somethin'? I know I ain't all that motherfuckin' picky," Gamzee finally said and flicked the ash off his cigarette, glancing around them more out of paranoid habit than anything.

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan smiled wryly at that, shaking his head. "So pretend like you give a shit." He pushed himself away from the wall and nodded. "They have superb sashimi at a place by the pier." He had a delicate stomach, and due to the swill they served at the cafeteria, he couldn't possibly eat there, even with the choices given specifically for seadwellers who happened to need seafood. "I'm sure they'll have somethin' you'll like, too. I've seen 'em cook up all sorts of weird shit for land dwellers there."

It wasn't a far ride down to the pier, and once there at the restaurant, he was greeted cheerfully by the hostess who knew him by name, and knew better than to ask about the odd look of his companion. They were seated far away from the entrance and in a corner booth, overlooking the docks and sea. It wasn't a fancy place - no place he liked really was - but rather, actually somewhat old and in need of a hefty remodeling. It was likely the same decor they had tens of sweeps ago. He brought out a book that he had in his bag as he waited for Gamzee to choose what he wanted off the menu, and started to read quietly to himself. It was nothing on the required reading list, just an old ancient history book that detailed some old forgotten wars that could have well simply been myth by this point.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee stayed quiet as he sat down opposite Eridan, glancing over the menu and biting on the inside of his lip. He didn't know what some of it was that he was seeing, but he would try anything at least once and he could often eat more than even he expected. He ended up putting the menu aside when the waitress came by and listing off the things that he knew he wanted, which coincidentally came in large portions, and a few things he'd never heard of but that he decided he would try anyway. At the very least he knew he'd like the grilled eel. He had his wallet and, in spite of his look and how he conducted himself, he could afford the expense.

"When you said I should try and pretend I give a shit," he spoke up after a little while of waiting, "all I really gotta ask is why I'd do that? Bein' all fake and shit don't get nobody nowhere but fucked over themselves, y'know? Don't make nobody happy doin' that shit."

[princeofmelodrama]

That was a lot of food, but Eridan smiled a tight-lipped smile and simply asked for his usual of a plate of thin-cut tuna, salmon, eel and a side of seawater. He barely even looked up from his book. It wasn't until Gamzee spoke to him that he sighed and put the bookmark in at the sentence he'd read last.

"If your grades don't improve, they'll assign you to another tutor or take you outta the program. And I won't get to know you. It'll be a lost fuckin' cause an' I'll have failed to have done any good for you." His tone was flat, but serious. He didn't make eye contact as he spoke.

"You still can get in some assignments today that you missed last week if you want. They aren't even hard to do." He didn't say that he almost wanted to just let Gamzee copy off his own finished assignments just so they wouldn't have to deal with it. He wasn't about to give up on trying to help just yet.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

"You're really all up an' adamant about this 'gettin' to know me' shit," Gamzee pointed out casually, unwrapping a pair of chopsticks sitting in the holder by the window, splitting them apart then maneuvering them into one hand to tap idly on the tabletop. He looked out of the window at the water, his arms crossed, hands almost entirely obscured by his sleeves. "You ever gonna tell me shit about you then or am I gonna have to wait for that until you know enough shit about me?"

[princeofmelodrama]

Eridan blinked and furrowed his brow. "What is it you want to know?" It wasn't as if his entire damn life seemed to be public spectacle at school to begin with. "I live with my guardian an' insipid, delirious fuckin' brother, an' I want to fuckin' do anythin' but be at the beck an' call of the Condesce once I'm able to make my own fuckin' decisions." He gave another tight smile to the waitress as she brought the food out, and reached into the front pocket of his bag to grab his own chopsticks, safely nestled in a small case. He ate with impeccable manners and grace, head bowed over his plate.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

"Lot'a that coulda been figured out just motherfuckin' lookin' at ya," Gamzee chuckled, sitting up as the waitress set down his plates and squinting some at the rolled up something taking up one of the square dishes. He picked it up gingerly and bit it in half, then shrugged and ate the rest of it without checking to see what it was that he was eating. It tasted ok, so it was good to him. He waited until he'd swallowed before shaking his head and continuing, "Nah man I mean shit like what you actually like doin' when you give yourself a fuckin' minute to breathe. I saw you readin' a thing, didn't see what it was but I'm guessin' you like reading?" It was a rather dull topic for conversation, but it was all he could really think of for the time being.

[princeofmelodrama]

"History," Eridan said, sliding the book over with his right hand as he continued to pick at his plate of fish. "Particularly history a war, the battlefield tactics an' how they might be used in everyday situations." He still hadn't made eye contact since they had arrived. He'd been trying very hard not to get flustered by the almost alarmingly pointed and astute questions the laconic highblood was asking, and looking up at him wouldn't help.

"I'm also a great lover of fine art. Actin', dancin', sculpture," he mentioned, then pointed out through the window at a rather fanciful bit of monochrome graffiti, "Things like that," he said, a twitch of a sly smile coming into place. He'd recognized the style from the notes that Gamzee had been doodling on. Either Gamzee had been aping a very talented graffiti artist in the area, or he was one.

[cookinglikeamotherfucker]

Gamzee glanced down at the art and a small smile lit his own expression as he gave a quiet laugh. "Shouldn't surprise me none, given all the artsy shit you do anyway." He reached for the book after taking another couple of bites, occupying his mouth with that as he flipped a couple of pages, reading bits and pieces and shaking his head again. "Life shouldn't have to be treated like a motherfuckin' battlefield, man. It ain't always about out-maneuverin' everyone else or followin' orders or bein' anyone but who you wanna be." He gave Eridan a rather pointed look, then reached out and touched his shoulder to try and get him to look up. "Sometimes you can make just as much progress with people just sittin' an' havin' a motherfuckin' chat with 'em."

[princeofmelodrama]

"Easy for you to say, you're good at talkin' to people." Eridan said with a slight pout, though it faded and he finally looked up, his skin gone a bit clammy at the difference in temperature from the inside of the restaurant compared to the outside. Or maybe it was nerves. Whichever, it was fairly close to time to get back to school, and he was getting a little uncomfortable with how bare the highblood laid everything out. There was no pretense, no double talk. It was stark and bright and laid out before him with every word Gamzee spoke, and it unnerved him exactly how talented Gamzee was at it.

"If you want," he muttered as he finished his plate of food, "you can copy my answers, just so you don't get in trouble for missin' more assignments. You had a shitty enough week last week, don't need that on top a it. Just don't think I'll get in a habit a lettin' you do that."