PLEASE VOTE: I know many people forget, but the votes are what boosts the story so more people can find it. 🖤🙏
Every chapter I will shout out someone, as a thank you for reading! If you want to be the next shout out, you just have to VOTE and leave a COMMENT (anything you want to).
This week's shout out: BBG_NOTNOW4! Thanks so much for reading and commenting!
Edited by: Starry-Night-Wish
Dean could feel his heartbeat resonate in his throat, but not much more.
His limbs felt numb and tingly, the air entering his lungs seemed inefficient, and he couldn't hear the professor talking or his colleague's whispers.
It had been a good morning back to classes. Blake had picked him up from his car with an open smile, Dean's fear that things would be weird between them instantly dissipating under the gaze of his friend's lively eyes. In a crumpled napkin, Blake had brought him a piece of chocolate cake that his mother had packed for them, and although Dean had already eaten breakfast, the idea of declining the offer didn't even cross his mind.
With the incentive of chocolate, they had made their way to the Economics' department, the rain having had the grace of stopping until they were sheltered. Classes had changed that semester, but the majority of the classrooms were the same, so Dean knew his way around and his safe routes and places, which made it far easier to sneak to his preferred place before the room could fill.
It had been a good start for a new semester. Up until a few seconds ago.
The words "group project" and "oral presentation" slammed at his chest with the force of a sledgehammer, burying him farther into the depths of panic.
What am I going to do?
The class sped forward, but Dean was still trapped in that moment. Looking around the room through the heavy fog that settled on his mind, he observed his colleagues. Some listened and took notes, some talked between them, and some were distracted with their phones.
He recognized practically every face in there, and even knew some names from them being said out loud, but he hadn't even really met any of them. How would he do a group project? Was he supposed to go up to someone and talk to them?
The thought alone turned his stomach, and his hand moved to his pocket.
And the oral presentation. If he almost threw up at the thought of communicating with someone in his class, there was no way he could present in front of them. When the teacher had asked him to respond to a simple question, he had almost fallen to the side, even if hardly anyone turned around to see him in the room.
Suddenly, he felt dizzy.
His head felt heavy and dizzy; he wished to put it down on his desk.
Nothing that the professor said through the entire class registered in his mind; he was too focused on not letting the chill of anxiety show and making a fool of himself.
There were still fifty minutes until class would end. Dean felt he was about to implode.
He wanted to grab his phone and call Blake. There was nothing his friend could do, but the keychain alone wasn't cutting it.
He planned to escape to the closest bathroom once the class was over, but a sudden surge of memories of the day of the play quickly beat that idea out of him. Although he didn't like doing it, he discreetly took his phone out of his bag, hiding it under the desk. His trembling fingers complicated things, but eventually he was able to type a short, simple message.
Could you come see me after class? Please.
- Where are you going?
Blake didn't look at Mark, continuing to pack his things.
- Dean.
His whispered reply was the only explanation he gave before getting up from his seat, backpack hanging from his shoulder. Some people looked at him as he left, including the professor who raised his eyebrows at him to which he gave an apologetic nod.
He exited the room, quickening his pace.
As soon as he had laid eyes on the text, he could tell something had to be wrong with Dean. There had been no "I'm sorry for texting you during class" or "if it's not too much trouble", and that wasn't a good sign.
By the time he reached the Economics' department, there were ten minutes left to Dean's class. Blake walked to the classroom, trying to peek inside without being spotted by other students or the professor, but Dean sat too far back for him to see.
Still, the fact that no one seemed alarmed was a good sign.
He forced himself to swallow his worries and lean against the wall by the door, although that only lasted a few seconds before he had to move, not knowing what to do with his body. If he did as he wished, he would burst into that classroom and run to Dean to see how he was doing.
He grabbed his phone, informing Dean he was outside and would enter as soon as class ended. That message didn't have any practical meaning other than the hope it would be of some consolation to the certainly anxious man.
Blake huffed out a brusque sigh, leaning his head back against the wall, feeling the pressure building in his chest.
Caring about his friends' well-being wasn't something new, but ever since the previous week, Blake could no longer label how he felt about Dean in terms of friendship. The revelation had been a shock at the time, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
He didn't know when the feelings of strong friendship had morphed into something else, but that hardly mattered. Technically speaking, knowing he liked Dean didn't change anything. The feelings were the same, only the name had changed.
The door opening interrupted his musings.
Usually he waited for everyone to leave before entering, but this time he immediately sped forwards, swerving through the students that abandoned the room. He had barely passed through the door when he finally saw Dean, looking at the entrance wide-eyed, clearly waiting to see him, face so red it appeared to burn, and hand in pocket.
- What happened? Are you okay?
- There will be a group project with oral presentation, Blake. - Dean's eyes looked up at him, shiny and frantic. - It's worth twenty percent of our grade.
Blake didn't need any further explanation. He glanced back at the remainder of students leaving as well as the professor still sitting at his desk, sorting out something on his laptop. Looking back at Dean, he gestured to the front of the class.
- We need to speak to your teacher.
Dean's eyes widened even more.
- I- I can't.
- It's the only way. Maybe he can give you a different project, something to compensate. - Blake avoided his urge to extend his hand to Dean. - C'mon, before he leaves.
The heir looked a few times to the man at the front desk, before glancing down to his stationary and getting up. Blake wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab the other's hand in his as they walked to the front.
Because Dean appeared to be dragging ankle weights, Blake was the first to reach the professor.
- Excuse me.
The man with the balding head lifted his eyes from the laptop to Blake, a glint of confusion crossing his eyes upon seeing an unknown face. The psychology student smiled, sliding to the side and motioning to Dean who had just crawled his way to them.
Dean glimpsed at Blake, just so the latter could give him an encouraging nod.
- Hm, I'm sorry for bothering you, professor. - his tone was much more stable than expected. - My name is Dean, I was hoping I could speak to you abo---
- Dean. - one greying eyebrow rose - Dean Metharom, correct?
- Hm, yes sir.
The professor didn't reply, so eventually Dean continued, Blake's eyes glued to him and his hand in his pocket.
- It's regarding the project due this semester... I was hoping to know if there is another way ---
- I won't give you special treatment, Mister Dean.
Blake's eyes shot to the professor like daggers.
- I didn't mean to insinuate that.
If it wasn't for the strain in Dean's arm muscles, one would be fooled by his calm demeanour. Blake wasn't as prone to hiding his temper however, and was sure that it showed in his expression.
Mr I Have My Doctorate Degree Stuck Up My Ass examined Dean from head to toe, a permanent crease between his eyebrows.
- I'm aware of your situation, Mister Dean, but I can't just give you a chance the other students won't get, regardless of your grandfather's contribution to the department. - he closed the laptop. - I was personally against receiving a student from a family connected with the administration, but my colleagues didn't agree.
Indignation forced Blake's mouth open, but Dean spoke before he could.
- I understand your reservations, professor, but I didn't mean to request a short-curt to the project...
- It's good that you didn't, because there won't be one.
Blake ground his teeth with such intensity his past-lives could feel it, but he held back from speaking his mind. He could see the hairs on the back of Dean's neck getting damp with sweat, yet his features perfectly concealed his nervousness under the layer of a gentleman.
The professor got up, grabbing the laptop and packing it in its bag, not sparing his student more than a glance.
- All the students have the chance of making the project individually. Although if you choose to do so you will have to do the presentation alone.
He felt his blood boil in his veins, propelling him to follow the teacher that walked to the door. Before he could finish the first step, Dean extended his arm in front of him, stopping him. With a deep frown, Blake looked at his friend who simply shook his head in return.
With a deep frown, Blake looked at his friend who simply shook his head in return.
Thankfully Dean didn't insist on a polite goodbye to his professor, who had already walked past the door, because if he did Blake wasn't sure he would have resisted slapping his own forehead.
That despicable man finally disappeared behind the closing door, leaving the two students alone.
- What an ass. - Blake raged, fuming at the innocent door with a glare before turning to Dean, eyes round in exasperation. - How were you so nice to that waste of college funds? He didn't even let you explain!
The heir's hand left the pocket with the keychain still squeezed in it, the pressure so severe his knuckles had turned white. Blake wanted to scold both Dean and himself. Dean for not screaming in that jerk's face and himself for wanting to scold Dean.
- My intention wasn't to be nice, I was polite.
His voice sounded as if he was ripping each word from his throat, causing Blake's expression to soften as he watched his friend turn and walk slowly back to his desk. Blake followed behind him, a heavy weight on his chest.
- But he was so mean without reason. If you hadn't stopped me, he would have heard it.
- People like that are not worth lowering my self-standards. Besides, arguing with a teacher is not advisable.
- He's not my teacher, and unless I insulted him to his face - which I wish I could - he couldn't do anything to me.
Dean reached his desk, closing the notebook without looking back at him.
- But he could make my life harder. - he huffed out with a powerful sigh, letting go of the pen he had picked up to sweep his hands across his face. - What am I going to do?
Blake stood back, just wishing he could take the other's place for once. It was only the first day of that semester, yet the world couldn't seem to give Dean a break.
Silence had just begun to set when an idea suddenly occurred to him.
- I know some people from your class. - he said, moving to Dean's side. - Like Dan, the one that gave me the notes when you hurt your feet. I could talk to him to see if you could be part of his group.
Dean's eyes seemed uncertain, but at least he was looking at him.
- Thank you, Blake... but I really can't get myself to be alone with a bunch of people I don't know.
- You could work with them through group chat.
With that sentence alone, the heir's eyes rounded.
- Do you really think they won't mind?
- Dan's cool, I bet he won't if I explain it to him.
- Would you do it, please? - he questioned with unnecessary urgency. - You could tell them I can be in charge of the hardest part, or even multiple parts to make up for my lack of involvement.
Blake gave a close-mouthed smile.
- I will text him later, ok? I'm sure the group's going to agree.
Of course, that didn't solve everything. There was still the presentation, but Blake could only do so much. Looking at the pressure drawn in Dean's furrowed forehead, he reached out, softly grabbing the other's long fingers in his.
Dean reattributed the grasp with the smallest tug of his lip. The thin skin under his eyes was darkened, telling of his sleepless nights. Blake wondered if it was the anticipation of a new semester that kept him awake.
The grip on his hand became stronger and, as if that alone didn't make his heart skip a beat, pulled him forward. He wasn't sure what Dean's intentions were but he followed nonetheless, stopping with a hand's distance between them, waiting for the other's next move.
Slowly, Dean lowered his head until his forehead laid on Blake's shoulder, opening the gates for a flood of butterflies to take over his stomach. It was impossible to avoid the memories of the last time they had been so close, but he tried to keep those thoughts aside. This wasn't about him.
His free hand gradually moved to Dean's head, gently grazing his hair. Dean tensed for a moment, causing him to retreat, but when the hold on his hand tightened, Blake repeated the motion. After a few seconds, the stiffness lessened, giving him the incentive to continue the patting.
- You're really sad.
- I am...
- And you really try a lot.
There was a small pause. Even with Dean's head nestled in his shoulder, Blake knew there was a weak smile on his face just then.
- I do.
They stayed silent in that position for a while, longer than any previous time.
Blake savoured every second, smiling at the warmth of Dean's hand on his and the softness of his hair. Even though he wanted that moment to continue forever, he still noticed when the tension began to return to the other's body. Time was up.
Knowing Dean would extend the discomfort so he wouldn't insult him, Blake was the one to let go, gently pushing Dean by the shoulders just to look at his face.
- So, your family knew this university before? That's why you came here?
He nodded, massaging the faint red mark on his forehead.
- I'm the third generation enrolling here.
- And what was the contribution that jerk talked about?
- My grandfather sponsored the department's remodelling.
Blake hummed in agreement, moving his eyes to a few light hair strands that had gone array. With calculated caution he reached for them, making sure Dean knew what his intentions were before fixing it.
- Do you change rooms this morning? I have your schedule on my phone, but I already forgot.
- No, just in the afternoon.
- Okay, then. I'll have to go, my class should be starting. I'll be back for lunch, okay?
Dean nodded with a half-smile, which was innocent enough, but then he distractedly nibbled his lower lip, sending a shiver speeding through Blake's body. Trying to pause the sensory memory, he forced his eyes back up to find his friend looking away.
- I'm so sorry for making you come here.
- I'm not. - he smiled, beginning to walk backwards towards the door. - I'm going now. Have a good class.
After a wave and making sure Dean smiled back, he left the classroom. He had just walked into the drizzling atmosphere outside when he stopped and turned to face the building. He analysed the entrance until his eyes came across the simple golden plaque by it.
The same plaque that he had previously ignored, now grabbed his attention.
In honour of James Metharom.
The professor ended class a few minutes before one o'clock, to the famished students' delight.
Blake packed his things while Mark waited for him, not having bothered to take out his notebook and single blue pen. He had just closed the backpack when the ocean seemed to fall from the sky, the sound causing most people in the room to look through the wide windows.
Mark leaned on the table, giving a low whistle of surprise.
- I don't think we can have lunch at the exterior tables.
- Yeah. - he analysed the rain for a moment, putting on his bag. - Guess Dean and I will go back to eating in the classroom.
- Do you think he would want to try the canteen? It's cramped but you could sit near the wall or whatever.
- He won't. Last time he was around so many people didn't go so well, remember?
Mark wrinkled his straight nose at the memory.
- Yeah, you're right. I'll tell the others when I get there.
For the second time that day, the campus was a spectator to Blake's running skills, this time soaking under heavy rain as his brain had yet to register the importance of carrying an umbrella. When he reached the classroom, his shirt was on the brink of see-through. Why had he decided to use one of Finn's button-up that day of all days? Right. He had forgotten to do laundry.
Dean's eyes widening as he looked up from his seat.
- I think it's raining. - Blake said, pushing back the hair glued to his forehead.
- You are drenched.
- If everything's wet, is anything really wet?
- If everything is on fire, is anything really on fire?
- Point taken. - he pinched the shirt, ungluing the fabric from his skin. - God, I feel like a little mermaid wannabe.
- You are going to freeze over. You should go change.
- I'm only going to get more soaked if I go out there, and I'm not about to leave you here alone for so long.
Dean didn't insist, nibbling at his lip in guilt. Had he always nibbled at his lip that much? Blake wasn't sure, but it was deeply disconcerting. Ignoring his racing pulse, he looked down at himself, beginning to undo the first few buttons of his shirt.
- I think we'll be having lunch in here like old times, huh?
- I guess so...
His voice transpired some sadness, which Blake completely understood. He usually didn't have many other chances to be with the other apart from the lunch break, and it was very likely that it would just keep raining for many days.
Blake took off the dripping shirt, leaving him only dressed in his white interior-shirt that was equally wet and cold. He walked towards the windows, opening one to wring the shirt under the rain, which proved to be counterproductive. After closing it, he propped the shirt on the windowsill to dry, or at least drip to the floor.
When he returned to the table, Dean had their food laid out, the vision of definitely homemade mini-pizzas and side of salad instantly improving his day.
- I'm sorry, it isn't my best. I spent most of the weekend in the court.
One eyebrow raise and Dean got the message, grimacing with a stifled smile. Like before, Blake grabbed a chair off a nearby desk and sat facing the other. As soon as he sat down, a gush of air caused a chill to run up his spine, and he wrapped his arms around himself in search of warmth.
Dean's eyes flashed to him, and he turned, taking the thick jacket on the back of his chair and extending it over the table. Blake accepted it without any decorum, enjoying the feel of the warm, expensive material against his goose bump-covered arms.
- Thanks.
From the corridor, the sound of multiple voices entered the classroom, diverting Blake's attention to the door, smiling. He could recognize that mess of personalities anywhere, unlike Dean who watched him confused.
- Is there something wrong?
The response came in the form of Finn entering the room, holding the door open for Mark, Collin and May, the last two consumed in an animated discussion. Each one carried a white paper bag with a logo that Blake recognized as one of the most popular cafes on campus.
Returning his attention to Dean, he watched as his hazel eyes processed the new company. After a fraction of a second, the confusion cleared and a wide smile grew.
- Save me. - Mark said, laying his paper bag and Coca-Cola bottle on the table. - I can't hear one more second of which prince is the hottest.
- Naveen knows how to dance. - May put down her own bag and walked to the closest desk, pushing it until it was against Dean's.
Mark added an additional desk while Collin and Finn grabbed some chairs.
- Aladdin knows parkour. And Naveen wanted to marry a girl just because of money.
- Aladdin lied to get the princess and kept the genie even though he promised to free him.
- But he let him go in the end.
- Yeah sure, once he already had the princess.
Collin blew out a noisy breath, taking a place beside a frustrated Mark.
- Naveen mistreated his servant.
- Can someone get them to agree on something, please? - Mark implored, passing his hand through his thick hair that today was styled in a combination of 'bed-head' and heartthrob.
Finn took the seat at the head of the table, sliding an additional paper bag towards Blake without looking. The younger brother smiled, guessing the contents of the bag, which were confirmed when he peeked inside, seeing a chocolate mint macaron, his favourite from that café.
- The prince from Snow White is creepy.
Finn's unconcerned words had an immediate effect, both participants of the debate labelling the ancient prince as a creep who kissed unknown and dead-looking girls. Blake agreed, turning to Dean who still watched the group around them with bright eyes.
- A fly's gonna enter your mouth if you don't close it.
Dean snapped his mouth closed, finally addressing their friends.
- I thought you would be having lunch at the canteen.
- We were. - May said. - But then Mark told us you couldn't, so here we are.
- I'm sorry for bothering you...
- It's no big deal, don't worry. The food from the café isn't that much more expensive and it's better anyway.
Dean thanked them awkwardly, but it was impossible not to see how touched he truly was. Blake glanced to the person he assumed had been responsible for putting forward the idea. May returned the look with a non-conspicuous wink.
Some time later - the paper bags left crumbled at the centre on the table - Blake finished his macaron when Mark cut into the ongoing story about the guy in May and Collin's class who started snoring mid-lecture.
- By the way guys, my house is going to be empty this Friday. How about we get together before y'all nerds start wasting away in books?
- Oooh, I like that idea. - May was the first to agree.
It didn't take much longer for everyone else to go along. This was, everyone apart from a light-haired man who retracted in his seat in response to the multiple pair of eyes that fell on him.
- Just us, dinner, and a few hours to hang out. - Mark assured, leaning back in his chair. - The cook's making dinner but he's going home right after.
Blake stayed silent, just observing Dean's subtle responses. There was no visible tension, so he was almost sure the hesitation was nothing more than a reaction to the idea of a new environment.
Dean glanced at him and Blake smiled in reassurance.
- All right. - Dean looked back at Mark with a soft smile. - Thank you for inviting me.
With every guest now secure, the theme veered to the slew of entertainment possibilities for that Friday, Finn passing the opportunity of participating in a karaoke battle. Said conversation lasted for a considerable span of time, until Collin suddenly interrupted.
- Hey Blake, why are you wearing Dean's jacket?
What did you think of this chapter?
Any theories on what will happen?
Please vote ❗ The views are going up but people appear to forget to vote
If you want to be warned when there will be updates, I will POST IT ON MY PROFILE. So if you want to receive the warning you should consider following me (I'm sorry for the self-plug, but it's the best way for me to warn you)
Thank you for reading!