LANCASTER AND MAXWELL ( ✔ )

chapter fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

AFTER he admits that he skipped school to see him, Abasi assures Sullivan that this will be the last time that he hears about him skipping school. He tells him that he won't have people on his payroll that aren't willing to put education before anything. It's a very ironic rule, considering that Abasi is the leader of an elaborate drug ring, but he'll point that out for another time. So for the next week and a half, he goes to and from class without incident or the urge to skip out because he's actually got something to look forward to in the day. In fact, he only has one class left for the day before he can go to the warehouse and finally have a blast. To him, class will be as boring and uneventful as it usually is.

Or, so he thinks.

He's walking to eighth period, rounding the corner before he feels a hand reach out and grab a fistful of his jacket from behind. "What the hel—" He doesn't even have a chance to spew out profanities before a hand is thrown over his mouth and the stranger is leading them away from his classroom. He struggles uselessly, curses falling from his lips left and right as he's shoved into a dark room. Automatically, he recognizes the smell of lemon Pine Sol and cleaning supplies.  Briefly after that, the light flickers on and the first thing that he sees are angry blue eyes. Even when he's angry with Arthur, the sight of his handsome face and messy blonde hair has him swooning; his heart skips several beats and continues erratically. Still, he remembers the reason why he is mad at the young man to begin with, and his annoyance comes back in waves. 

The first thing Arthur asks is, "Did you get arrested after prom?"

"Shouldn't you be Tom Bradyin' it up on the football field, or sucking face with your little fucking girlfriend?" Sully is aware that he sounds terribly bitter, but he is terribly bitter, so he doesn't care how the hell he sounds.

Arthur doesn't pay attention to anything that Sullivan asks and instead keeps interrogating him with his own questions. "Seriously, Sully. Assault? Underage drinking? What the hell has gotten into you? You can go to fucking prison for that shit." 

"Wow, you think so," he deadpans with a humorless snort, punctuating his sentence with a famous eye-roll. "Never woulda guessed. Thank you for that outstanding observation." 

"Sully." Arthur's voice has the same annoyance to it that Sullivan holds, but he doesn't care. As far as he's concerned, the blonde hardly has the right to be as furious with him. "You've been avoiding me for almost a fucking week now ..." 

"Watch your language—"

"Now is not the time to be a smart-ass." Sullivan is taken aback at how sharp and intense his tone is with him. Artie has always kept his voice with his best friend soft, cushioned in comparison to other people, and at worst held an annoyed tone to it. The young man has always been on the other side of Arthur's malicious barks, never on the receiving end. Still, he isn't going to waver underneath, even if his blue eyes made him want to kiss him until they both needing to come up for air and his voice makes him want to cower.

Sullivan throws his hands up, obviously containing no answer for Arthur. "Even if I've been avoidin' you, this was your master plan in gettin' me to talk? Shoving me into a fucking supply closet like I'm a broomstick?" 

"I acted on impulse," Arthur confesses. "Because I knew the moment you saw me, you'd jet off. You know, the kind of shit that you've been pulling all week long."

"I have not been avoiding you all week long ..." 

Artie quips sharply, "Yeah you fucking have. It's been eleven days since you looked me in the eye with the worst look you've ever given me."