"Such an easy passcode," He muttered, swiping through the phone until he found what he was looking for. John watched uneasily, but he was used to his parents inspecting his phone. Though, Hamilton's plan or something unsettled him.
Hamilton took the phone and extended his arm, angling the camera at his face. He closed one eye and pursed his lips, holding two fingers up that indicated peace. Then he snapped the photo and that moment of silliness faded quickly. He spent a few additional seconds on John's phone before returning it. John had to blink several times to comprehend the modifications. His lock and home screen was a picture of Hamilton looking like a typical teenage girl.
"You should be thanking me. You can admire my face everywhere you go."
John shook his head. "What if the possibility of my parents discovering this becomes valid?"
"Are you a buffoon?" John asked quite harshly. "They seize my phone once a week to examine it."
Suddenly, Hamilton burst out laughing. It was the first time John had seen him so... amused. Past the injuries, past the bags underneath his restless eyes, he discovered that there was more character to Hamilton than he thought.
"My God," Hamilton chuckled, "I can't take it anymore. You speak as if Beverly Hills was turned into a language."
"Breakfast will be ready in about five minutes," he changed the subject, "And I don't care what you want."
"Are you trying to hold my hand?"
"What the hell, Hamilton?!"
Along with Hamilton offering John a drive to school, he also assumed that John was attempting to grab his hand. He was steering the wheel with his left hand, and resting the other on a platform. John's left hand happened to be resting besides his.
"I'm telling Kinloch that you're super gay for me," he smirked, "And then he'll know that he's gonna be invited to the wedding of ours 'cause we're super affiliated with each other now."
"Perhaps we could invite the entire football team because of your popularity," he continued, "Ooh, I wonder if the cheerleaders would like to be flowergirls—"
"You're speaking nonsense!" John barked, "I have no clue what you're formulating here, but it is complete rubbish!"
"Just like how you rub Kin—"
John lowered his voice, feeling tears prick his eyes. "Can we end our discussion about him? I have no intention to speak to him..."
"Curly fry, there's no need to add salt to the tears."
"Well," Hamilton yanked the combination lock out of the locker, "I'll see you later, Curly fry,"
John scoffed and strolled to his locker, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows angrily. He nearly despised Hamilton's demeanor, and he wanted to take every bit of it and crush it into dust with his own hands. However, he was not the type to take anything to those extents. He was Jacky Laurens; the perfect, authentic boy that everyone cherished.
He kicked his storage unit with a yelp when he encountered pain, but his anger was very evident. Was being immune from conflict due to infuriation just some idea wrapped up in his head? Why was he so... bothered? Hamilton was merely just a freak, a freak with a way of twisting peoples minds. He wasn't special. Everyone tossed and turned each other's mind in some fashion.
Finally gathering his books in his arms, he went to his first class; Marine and Biology. He adored the class, and he was always engulfed in sheer joy and an elevation of hope for the remainder of the day to result nicely.
Entering the classroom, he saw several students already seated. John liked being early to class, mainly because he was able to get into his zone and relax his mind. He enjoyed quiet rooms.
Five minutes later, he saw his boyfriend walk in. John felt discomfort and wanted to avoid confrontation. However, he was unable to walk away as the bell rang. Practically every student was present.
John studied Francis for merely a second and immediately noticed something... strange. He didn't look guilty whatsoever, and his lips were curved into a smirk. His expression was sinister.
Unfortunately, Francis' assigned seat was right next to John's, and John was praying silently that Francis wouldn't utter a single word to him. John was exceedingly upset and disappointed due to his actions from the previous night, and he wanted to distance himself from his boyfriend until he was mentally stable enough to hold a conversation with him. People don't always receive what they desire, though.
"Do not speak to me," John hissed, narrowing his eyes and piercing them into Francis' pair, "You should feel remorseful for what actions you committed yesterday."
"What are you talking about?" Francis blinked with a short laugh, "I was drunk and wild like everyone else. I mean, I just assumed that you went home to your mommy and daddy."
John sealed his lips and faced the opposite direction. He knew better than to begin an argument that would certainly be chattered throughout the entire school building. And, he was taught from his parents to have absolutely no counters or objections, or else he would endure the consequences later.
After the bell rung, the teacher speed-walked inside quickly and several students blurted out her tardiness. She rolled her eyes, and began to speak.
"Hello, students," she said, "I know we're somewhat far into this school year, but we have another student that will be joining us for the rest of the year." As if on cue, another... very familiar student swung the door open and didn't appear to look any different.
Hamilton made his way to the front of the room, pushing his hands into his pockets and making eye contact with students. He happened to do so with John, and it'd be a lie if anyone would say that he wasn't surprised in the slightest.
"So, everyone, this is A—"
"Hamilton," he interrupted, "and you don't need to know anything else. Don't bother searching for my name in yearbooks either."
The teacher gave an awkward smile. "So, where would you like to sit?"
"Right next to Laurens."
There was an issue. Laurens was seated third row to the end of the left side, so the only seat beside him was a seat claimed by Francis. In addition, two people were already seated in front and behind John. Hamilton was left with no choice but to choose a different seat.
The teacher turned and looked at Hamilton with an apologetic expression. "Someone's already sitting th—"
"My vision is extremely poor, and I have no money to purchase glasses," Hamilton explained, "The first and second row of desks would even make it difficult for my focus. However, the seat next to Laurens' is the best spot to balance it."
"Ah, very well then," The teacher nodded in understanding, "Francis, please move to the fifth row, second seat."
Francis widened his eyes in shock, but it faded quickly and he met Hamilton's eyes with cold-blooded anger. Hamilton wasn't bothered, and kept a neutral expression. He made his way to his new spot as Francis grabbed his backpack and stood up.
Hamilton thought the boy would zip his mouth, but he didn't. Hamilton was unable to reside in his new seat without hearing a whisper,
"You won't get away with this, Alexander."