Tyrus oneshots.

Damn math.

"So, you're going to help me?" he asked, just for confirmation.

Cyrus chuckled and passed his hand through his hair, trying to settle his dark tuft. "Yes, of course. Do we meet tomorrow in the library just after school?"

TJ raised an eyebrow. "Library?"

"Yes, it is that room full of books and tables where you go to study in holy peace."

The blond laughed, slightly bumping their shoulders, but still making the moor a little unbalanced. "I know what a library is, Underdog."

The other laughed, and TJ noticed that when Cyrus smiled, his eyes were shining. "I just wanted to make sure." TJ smiled in response. "Then... library?" asked Cyrus again.

"I was thinking more about my house, actually."

The moor carried his right hand to his chest and made a surprised face. "Do I have this honor?"

TJ nodded and put his arm around his shoulders, clutching it for a moment before letting him go. "Later, Underdog," he said, before rushing to the literary class.

The next day, having the last period off, TJ waited for Cyrus out of the English class to return home with him. When he saw his best friend leave the classroom at the ring of the bell, TJ flanked him with a smile that was typical of him when Cyrus was nearby. "Hey!" he exclaimed.

Cyrus smiled, noticing him. "Hey," he replied immediately. "Ready for the extra lesson?" TJ nodded not convinced. "One question: why didn't you ask Buffy to help you? I mean, she's your tutor, isn't she?"

TJ bit his lower lip. "She's busy with... other things," he lied. Would he ever have the courage to tell Cyrus the truth? He just wanted to spend more time with him - was that so wrong? "Plus, you have a lot more patience."

Cyrus chuckled and nodded. "That's definitely true." They walked out of the school between the chatter of the students around them and reached TJ's home, who lived right nearby, in an instant. The blonde noticed Cyrus' curiosity and perplexity when, upon entering the apartment, he noticed photos of the Kippen siblings as children or photos of TJ as a child on a stage with a certificate in his hand.

Cyrus pointed to the photo taken in memory of his first concert. "How old were you here?" he asked, curiously.

"Five" TJ remembered that day as if only two had passed. He was so nervous about performing in public for the first time that he had reviewed the score at least a thousand times. When it was his turn to go on stage, his master had encouraged him by giving him light buffets on his shoulder. TJ, who was just under six feet tall, had looked down on his mentor from below: his eyes on the stage, his beard curly, his skin dark. He had calmed down at that sight, sighed, and came out into the spotlight more confident than he had ever been, waiting for the initial applause to go out. He then began to play the first notes of the song he had learned for the recital. He had missed a few notes, of course, but what was most important was that he had never stopped and that he had made his parents, his sister, and his teacher proud. In the photo, he smiled boldly, but it was only because he felt extremely happy with his progress.

"So, you play an instrument?" asked Cyrus, raising an eyebrow – TJ was envious of that ability, because he either raised both eyebrows or none - and crossing his arms, almost demanding explanations.

TJ nodded. If spending more time with Cyrus meant revealing his darker secrets, he would even reveal his real name. "The piano. I have a piano in my room if you want to know."

Cyrus was astonished by the information. "Oh," he said only. Then he smiled sincerely. "I didn't expect you to answer me for real. You wouldn't have done it a few months ago."