Waylons head hung heavy as he finally made way for the office. Mr. Secretary put his slip through and told him the classrooms for his electives. The man was oblivious as always, cheery composure. Seemingly unaware of the misery plastered on the students face.
Art, he had art next. He hoped in this type of school the class would be small and quiet, that maybe he'd be able to zone out for an hour. Most students were in class already as Waylon walked the halls, few faculty were passing through to see the post lunch commotion.
The art room was at the back of the school, a notably small department in the corner. He peered in the door window and couldn't make out any particular figures, pushing the door open. The room was brick walled, paintings and drawings and sculptures were all displayed upon them. A large centre desk was placed the room and around the remaining space were easels. The front had a whiteboard but no teacher desk, where an older women stood. She had a long colourful high waist skirt, a black long sleeve jumper and her curly hair was pulled back into a bun.
Her eyes lit up when seeing him, "Ah, it's nice for you to join us!" She gestured to the room with her ruler, "Waylon, I've been told?" He nodded and followed her motion with his eyes. Low and behold his gaze landed on a figure he had previously not noticed, he was hidden from his sight from a large isle. Peaking from behind the structure was a buzzed, blonde head.
You've got to be joking. Waylon groaned seeing Harlow glare at him before returning to his task, the teacher took notice of the tension but ignored it.
"Grab whichever easel you'd like! We're doing some simple still life's today." Waylon looked at the objects strewn about the middle desk, the teacher was sat at the front adjusting the light to aluminate their forms. There were a variety of cans and branches, an empty wine bottle with different glasses. The still life was set up like a sort of picnic, and Waylon was staring at it unsure where to start. The teacher joined him to give some advice and a starting point. Eventually, he managed and continued the class with his headphones in, ignoring the enemy presence among him.
Waylon managed to listen to an album before the lights were turned all the way on again, "Alright boys, we'll continue tomorrow. Be on time next class," she threw an eyebrow at Waylon who nodded apologetically, "I'm giving you an assignment brief and we'll need your input and ideas." With that she waved them off and hummed while grabbing their work.
Harlow walked out behind Waylon and the boy felt tense. It seemed some stroke of terrible luck meant they were walking in the same direction. It was silent and quite at this end of the school, no one was around.
"Hey." He heard that raspy voice echo in the hall, the two continued walking as Waylon lowered his head in response, "You're going to pay me back for those cigarettes."
"I don't have any money." He gritted through clenched teeth, biting back an insult.
"We'll figure something out." The words made Waylon shiver, a cold chill running the base of his neck to the balls on his heels. Harlow sped up, patting his back and diverging from their path. He disappeared around a corner and suddenly the other was alone.
Normally he'd be relived at this, but he was still shaken up from his last encounter with the devil and quickened his pace to get to his next class. The class went by fine, he noticed Sasha and Jay were in it. The latter waved him over to sit near them, it was literature. They were given a book assignment and chapters to analyse, the book was remarkably boring from the get go. Detailing something about two blue collar men from the past, one of them being notably slow. Sasha seemed incredibly engaged, ignoring Jay who would beg him to explain the different metaphors and similes.
The class was mostly noise, majority of students ignoring the task and instead walking around to talk to each other. The teacher payed no mind, writing at his desk or typing on his computer. Waylon noticed Jay was on his phone and had joined a group of guys to chat shit. He tried to get Waylon involved but the other shook his head, instead scooting closer to Sasha. The boy was still writing away, highlighting phrases and lines and annotating. Sasha was smart, he could tell, the way he broke down line after line and drew his own conclusions with ease. It appeared he almost never took a break to think, the message jumping out at him with ease. Waylon could never be like that, sure he was okay at English, but he could almost never explain his points or find the same meaning others did. He was always surface level, looking at the overt message without being able to comprehend why the author wrote it the way they did. Waylon wrote his own notes, which appeared lack lustre in comparison to Sasha's. Luckily though, Jay blessed him with his blank page, which in turn made Waylon look like a scholar by contrast. What a hero.
The three walked in the halls, they had the same sport period—which Jay had mentioned Markus was in as well. Waylon didn't want to admit it but he was panicked thinking about the potential of being in a gym class by himself. He also didn't have any sport uniform, which he discovered was an extra you had to pay for from Jay. He was still in jeans and a sweater.
When they went outside Markus immediately spear tackled Jay to the ground, the two fought until they were yelled at and forced to do laps. The teacher noticing Waylon's attire and was told to sit out. So he sat on the wet grass away from the group, watching the class of boys run and play rounds of footy against one another. He got lost in thought when all of a sudden someone planted next to him.
He looked over to see Sasha staring at him intently. There was something about his brown eyes, it's like when he looked at you he could see exactly the kind of person you are. Maybe it was the rarity of it, most of the time the boys gaze was cast anywhere but at people. Like he knew something you didn't know. It made Waylon squirm under his gaze, and sigh when the boy turned to break it.
"You have art with Harlow." He spoke, his voice as soft as ever however his accent was more clear with how he spoke. Sasha pulled his knees to his chest, leaning his head on them.
Waylon tilted his own, picking at the grass with his fingers, "How do you know that?"
"I saw you too walking together." Waylon hummed at that, unsure what Sasha's point was and not caring to entertain it.
Sasha let the silence hang before speaking again, "You have to pay him back fast."
Waylon turned to look at him now, brows drawing down, "Why?"
"It's not good to be in debt to him." Sasha had a weird way of delivering things, his bluntness was jarring as he always delivered it so casually. It was as if nothing phased the boy.
Waylon shrugged, "I have no money," he began placing the grass in his hand, "How would I pay him back?"
Sasha smiled, "Suck him if you have to." Waylon threw the ball of grass at the other, who batted it away laughing.
The taller boys face scrunched up with disgust at the thought, "Fuck you, why are you sitting with me anyway?"
The smaller lay on his back now, folding his jacket as a pillow under his head. He then forced a fake cough, "Cant you see I'm ill? I can't run around like this." He chided, coughing some more.
"Whatever." The two continued to talk. Despite his nature, Sasha put Waylon at ease. Perhaps his bluntness was reassuring, if he spent time talking with him, it was genuine. There were no ulterior motives with the boy, maybe it's why he was so close with Jay. The two were almost always with each other, despite him rooming with Markus. And every time Jay scored a goal he glanced in their direction, gaging his companions reaction. Sasha left ten minutes before class ended, he always seemed to do that.
Waylon jogged up to his friends, "You guys were good."
Jay laughed, "Yeah, I'll ask the critique later. I'm gunna go find where he disappeared too." Patting Waylon on the shoulder he ran off. Markus and him walked together, the sun had begun to set.
For the most part Markus spoke, he ranted about his day and about his anticipation to see Nelly later.
"What, you'll drink coffee at dinner then?" Waylon raised a brow at him, the other smiled wide.
"For Nelly? Definitely." This response caused Waylon to role his eyes. His friend was desperate, he wondered if he actually liked Nelly or just fawned over her as the only female presence in their age range. Waylon could appreciate the girls beauty, she was pretty, and a little intimidating. The girl had to be resilient to work in this sort of environment as well. Waylon had a couple of women friends in his last school, one who he dated for all of a week. In general he got along well with girls, if they didn't find him weird that is.
The two split ways to go shower, although he was pretty sure Markus had gone the opposite way of his room, toward the cafe.
The whole afternoon, past dinner and all, Waylon hadn't seen Harlow. Not even in passing, and it made him uneasy. Not only because he was afraid of the guy, but Sasha's comment had stuck with him. Sure he meant it as a joke but...how could he be so sure? What if Harlow asked him to do something like that, or something worse? He saw how Markus dedicated so much of his time to the solo girl in the building, so he wondered how someone far more unstable coped with the lack of opportunities to get laid.
For a moment, Kian's face flashed in Waylon's mind as he walked back to his room. He couldn't wait for the semester to be over so he could go back home. Fuck it was only his second day...
Waylon opened his door and the room was empty, no sign of psycho anywhere. He got changed and laid in bed on his phone. The sun had far since set by now, and the vague sound of voices drifted among the halls. He wondered what a guy like Harlow got up to in his free time. Waylon's feet found the floor and he was standing in front of Harlow's bed.
The guy was messy, his sheets unmade and clothes strewn about. He had posters on his wall of different artists. Hmm, The Smiths? Waylon didn't consider the types of music that'd appeal to Harlow, but The Smiths certainly wasn't on the board. There was Kendrick Lamar poster as well next to a Billie Holiday one. They actually shared quite similar taste. Hmm. There were photos on the wall as well. One at some sort of bar, him and group of other guys around a pool table. Harlow was looking at the camera while smoking, he was lining up a shot with his left hand. There was other things as well, he had a couple boxing medals on his dresser, a small radio and the two storage units peaking out under his bed. So that's where the bastard keeps them.
"Enjoying the gallery?" Waylon hadn't heard him come in and jumped in spot.
Harlow pushed past him to plug his phone in, "You always go through peoples shit or am I special?" He sighed, "First my cigarettes now the rest of the room. I don't blame you, I find it hard to look away from Kendrick's face too." He teased, Waylon felt awkward. He could tell this niceness was a warning, a warning that Harlow was in control and that pushing him wasn't wise. Harlow could joke in this kind of situation because he knew he'd win.
"Sorry. Goodnight." Waylon walked back to his side and pulled the cover over his head.
"Goodnight Waylon."
An hour later last light was called and the room went dark.
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A/N: hey guys I hope you're enjoying the story so far, any feedback or votes is appreciated greatly 💪 -Hawk