No Academy (boyxboy)

Chapt. 1

Waylon doesn't remember the first time he felt in over his head, could've been his first day of high school. Maybe it was the first time he kissed a girl. Nevertheless it was solemn felt, he was quite adaptable naturally.

Foreboding aura oozed off the Garamond etching of 'Northside Bastion Institute' on the wall, followed by a tagline detailing their efforts to ameliorate the students behind their walls. Waylon found it almost disingenuous, and as he took pace into the doors he found his first sign of trouble.

Despite the lavish external appearance the interior held a more typical presentation of the type of institution Northside was. Bleak, chipped paint coated the walls. The bench seating and book cases lining the walls dull and rather cold. The front desk was painfully beige, with an undertone that gave a feeling of filth rather than warmth to the room. The only merit to the room were the collection of amateur art works lining the wall furthest from Waylon. Which he assumed were made by his soon to be peers.

The methodical clunk of his suitcase dragged against the worn wooden floors as him and his chaperone made way for the front desk. Behind it held a man sipping absentmindedly from a plain mug. He was standard in a button up shirt and glasses, which shifted as he turned to face the pair.

"Hi there what can I help you with?" He spoke monotonously, Waylon simply looked toward his youth counsellor and waited for her to answer for him.

"I'm Nat, I'm here with Waylon to be checked into your dormitories," she spoke with a ting of confusion to her voice, "you should've received an email about his arrival, I was assigned to make sure he got settled into the facilities all right."

The front desk worker simply tightened his lip and began typing, muttering Waylon's name repetitively. His brow knitted in confusion.

"I've got no one by that name here? Oh for f-.." he trailed off clearly frustrated. Waylon simply receded into himself, letting the confusion become a dull white noise. Nat at some point brought out his paperwork as the two conversed.

The wall Waylon found himself staring at contained an oil painting of a bear, injured and exhausted. It had curled up and was crying. Waylon wondered if bears could cry at all.
He also wondered if anything he would make would go on that wall, three hundred and sixty five days—give or take, he would spend here. Maybe he'd paint an animal as well, not in such a morbid state. Maybe he'd paint someone comforting the bear, he was sure it could use some comfort.

The internal trail of thought was pulled from him by the sound of his name. Nat was staring at him, he blinked a few times.

"Did you hear me at all?" She leaned toward him, a look of concern on her face.

Waylon rubbed his own shoulder, "I spaced out, sorry." He didn't meet her eye, instead looking off behind her.

"I'm afraid I'm leaving you now, there was a communications issue. So you won't be getting your room till the evening," she spoke sympathetically, "you can leave your stuff at the office here and in the meantime familiarise yourself with the campus."

Nat placed in hand on his shoulder, a simple nod and smile was passed between them and she was gone. The world suddenly became much larger.

"Waylon correct?"

"Yeah."

The receptionist smiled and stood from his place, "I'll keep your suitcase back here, sorry about the mix up. Unfortunately I'll be a bit tied up back here getting your room sorted or I'd give you a tour," the man grabbed hold of the suit case handles, hoisting it over the desk, "for now I'll make a call for one of the student on free period to come give you a hand, feel free to take a seat for now."

So he did, there was a clock above the bench next to him. However from the lack of movement or repetitive tick, Waylon assumed it due for a battery change. So instead he sat picking at the dead skin around his nails, and chewing on the inside of his cheek. He wondered who would be showing him around, would they be helpful or annoyed, would they talk at all or just ignore him, would they think he was weird or stupid? At least if he was outside he could benefit in feeling like he'd rarely see his peer if his first impression was embarrassing, but in here he'd have to deal with this person potentially dictating his perception among the majority.

'Yeah the new guy is odd...' 'He's really annoying don't bother with him...' 'He has a stupid look on his face, there do you see him?'

All the potential scenarios of how he'd become the easy pickings for the more aggressive or temperamental bunch of his peers played in his head. Waylon felt a heat prickle the back and sides of his neck and he became painfully aware of his body. How uncomfortable his tongue lay in his mouth, and the heat from behind his eyes, along with a growing inch on his calf. He suddenly felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable and couldn't wait to be able to hide in his room for the night. At least there he'd get to isolate and distract himself.

His head jerked at the sound of the office door creaking open. In walked a guy his age, maybe an inch or two smaller than himself. He had reddish-brown hair and his face was weather-beaten with an upturned nose. He wore a sage green and beige half zip sweater and track pants. Although a bit shorter than himself, the guy was broader. He was on all accounts normal, clearly athletic.

The brunette locked his eyes on Waylon and made a stride toward him. Luckily the guys demeanour was almost apathetic, most likely accustomed to the environment.
"I'm Markus, one of the other students here," he held out his hand and Waylon shook it awkwardly, "I'll show you around since I'm off from class today."

A silence fell on the two, Waylon waiting for Markus to make a move so he could follow. He didn't.
"So..." Waylon started and then looked around unsure of what to do or say.

"So..." Markus raised a brow, "do I get your name too or is it like a secret?"

Immediately Waylon's eyes widened and he felt an urge to smack himself, "Oh- Oh yeah my bad!" He gestured to himself, "I'm Waylon, sorry about that."

"Waylon...cool." Markus just repeated with a smile playing at his lips, he then began walking.