тo υѕ | dυncan

ғoυr

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11 - 11

"We are now twelve hours in, with all 22 campers still wide awake."

The brunette boy almost rolled his eyes at the host's narration. Everyone was yawning and had serious eye bags, even to Oliver's standards.

Owen was shuffling backwards and flaying his arms around in an effort to stay awake, which would most likely make him more tired. "Woo hoo! Stay awake for twelve hours? I can do that in my sleep! Woo hoo!" He froze before falling down like a tree, fast asleep.

Oliver snickered behind his hand while Duncan didn't even try to hide his own laughter. A few tired glares were sent their way but were ignored by the two boys.

The two had stuck together for this part of the challenge. Oliver would share his phone and music with Duncan, and he would in turn slap Oliver if he got tired. And the brunette would threaten to leave with his music whenever Duncan would call him 'short stuff.' Pretty good deal if you asked Oliver.

The two had hummed along to the few songs they shared interest in before ending up quietly singing along to the Broadway songs. Duncan liked theatre, sue him.

The brunette's phone had died just three hours into the awake-a-thon, meaning that Duncan and Oliver had to entertain themselves some other way.

Oliver knew he probably wouldn't end up passing out while there was daylight, but Duncan looked like he was on the verge of unconsciousness. In a desperate attempt to keep the other awake, Oliver realised he'd have to actually talk to the delinquent. Great.

"You're not looking too good."

Duncan lifted his head from his arms that were wrapped around his legs. "No shit, Sherlock."

The brunette drummed his fingers on his knees, "Wanna talk?"

Chris wasn't exactly lying when he called Oliver a social outcast.

How do you talk to people?

How do you start conversations?

What do you mean people ask how you are but don't actually want to know the answer and are uncomfortable when you answer them honestly with how you feel?

Oliver was oblivious to social cues and norms, always sticking to himself. It's not like anyone actively approached him anyway.

Duncan just stared at Oliver for what felt like hours, making the brunette uncomfortable and embarrassed, soon breaking off eye contact.

"You're short."

Oliver looked back at the delinquent with an annoyed but lighthearted glare. "Fuck you."

Duncan laughed softly before winking with a smirk, "If you wish, short stuff."

The brunette turned away, caught off guard and suddenly uncomfortable. Or was he embarrassed? Why were his cheeks warm?

"I will leave." He weakly threatened.

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