Oakleaf Academy For Boys (BxB)

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thirty nine

Lucky watched the teacher as a dull buzz of her words circled his head. He tapped his pen over the page distractedly, watching as small droplets of ink bubbled onto the paper.

He lowered his concrete eyes onto the page in front of him and scratched the nib of his pen onto the white sheet.

‘My eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that was all.’

He jotted it down, lazily flicking through the book for any other quotes. Jake’s gaze was fixed on Lucky as he noticed the boy zoning out. “Here.” He murmured, sliding his own page of notes over the table.

Lucky didn’t even look up. “Thanks.” He grunted, quickly copying down everything Jake had written.

‘Beauty lay not in the thing, but in what the thing symbolised.’

“You alright, mate?”

“Yeah.” He replied.

“You sure?” Jake pressed.

“Fuck off, Wesley.”

Jake rose his brows but stayed silent, leaning back in his chair as he waited for Lucky to finish with his work.

‘This hobble of being alive is rather serious, don’t you think?’

“You sure you’re—?”

“I’m fine.” Lucky snapped.

“Not a fan of Hardy, huh?”

“Bit of a twat really.” Lucky breathed. “Why does he give her such a shitty life?”

“It’s fate.”

Lucky laughed humourlessly. “′Tess of The D’Urbervilles’ is definitely not about fate.”

“Course it is.” Jake scoffed. “Nothing is coincidental. She was fucked from day one.”

“You’re an idiot.” Lucky rolled his eyes. “She’s a product of convention. Of society. Hardy doesn’t believe in fate; he’s mocking it.”

Jake chuckled to himself. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Lucky just gave him a glare and shoved Jake’s notes back over the table towards him.

“So, how’s the roommate?”

“Why are you talking to me?”

“We’re still drinking together later, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You seem pissed.”

“So?”

“Didn’t think you’d want to talk to me—”

“I don’t and I won’t. We can drink in silence.”

“What’d I do?” Jake frowned.

“Beat me half to death in the showers.”

“Oh, c’mon, that was ages ago. You’re not still mad about that, are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

"I don’t know.” Lucky snapped through gritted teeth.

“Fucking hell, Lucky, just—”

“Just what? Relax?”

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know. Why do you care all of a sudden?”

“I see people fall apart every fucking day.” Jake responded simply. “I see fresh scars on different wrists everyday. It doesn’t mean I care, it just means I’m not an idiot.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yet.” Jake added.

"I don’t do that. Fuck you.”

Jake sighed and stuffed his work into his folder as the bell echoed through the classroom. He flung his backpack over his shoulder as eyed the other boy. “You coming?”

“Where?”

“Lunch.”

“Not with you.”

Jake grinned to himself in amusement. “Fine. See you later.”

Lucky didn’t say goodbye as he gathered his own things and trudged out of the room with heavy feet. Benji was already seated in the canteen at their usual table, staring down at his food, rearranging his peas with his fork. “Hey.” He smiled softly as the blue haired boy dropped his tray onto the table and collapsed onto the bench.

“Hi.” Lucky greeted heavily. “What’s up?”

Benji shrugged faintly, “Not much. Just had history. We were learning about the murder of the tsar and his family. Pretty grim stuff.”

“Yeah? What’d they do?”

Benji just shuddered. “Irrelevant.” He brushed it off. “How was English?”

“You know when someone won’t give up trying to be your friend and it gets slowly more and more infuriating?”

Benji giggled. “No.”

“Well, Wesley won’t give up trying to bond with me or some shit. Just because he was Seb’s friend, that doesn’t mean he has to move onto me by default. As if I’m next in line or something.”

“Just give him a chance—”

“I don’t need any more friends. I have you. It’s enough.”

“You can never have too many.”

“But he’s a twat.”

“A persevering twat.” Benji corrected.

Lucky just bit into his slice of toast and watched the Pup curiously. Benji’s elbows were propped up on the table, his sleeve falling carelessly past his wrist. “Since when has this been a thing?” Lucky asked bitterly, dropping his slice of bread in what appeared to be disgust.

“What?”

Lucky grabbed Benji’s hand and pulled his arm towards him, brushing his sleeve aside to examine a thin slit of crimson staining the Pup’s snowy skin. “What, you cut now? You just woke up one morning and decided that would be a fun thing to do?”

Benji’s eyes grew wide in mortification as he yanked his arm back and pulled his sleeve down. “H-Hey, that’s not what—”

“I can’t stop you, Benji, I’m not gonna try.”

Benji’s sharp blue eyes glossed over as he recoiled into himself, “L-Lucky—”

“Just don’t kill yourself, okay?”

“Why are you being such a wanker?” Benji asked shakily. “Stop being so cold and pretending not to give a shit, alright?”

Lucky sighed deeply and pulled his legs onto the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. “What d’you want me to say? That I’m surprised? Because I’m not. You’re depressed and unstable and ever since that thing with your Dad, you’ve been in another world that only Diesel is allowed to see.”

“That’s not true—”

“You want me to tell you that I’m scared? That I don’t want you to hurt yourself because every time you do, you hurt me too? You want me to say that if you ever do this again, I’ll probably fall apart because I don’t know how to help and I hate it?”

Benji watched helplessly as his best friend grew fragmented and riddled with inexpressible sadness. “I’m sorry.” Benji whispered.

“I know.”

When Lucky finally returned to his dorm after a day of tedious lessons, he found Peter sobbing by the window, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand at every fresh tear that dared escape his eye. He whipped around as the door creaked open and hastily tried to dry his damp cheeks. “Oh, h-hey, Lucky.”

“It’s okay.” He said plainly. “Not a great week?”

“I don’t belong here.” He sniffed, his voice small and broken.

“Yeah, you do.” Lucky shot back softly. “You don’t know it yet, but you do. You fucked up, so here you are.”

“That’s bullshit. I never hurt anyone, I don’t deserve this—”

“Suck it up, mate.” Lucky interjected. “The best way to get through this is by tricking yourself into believing you belong here. You’re a bad person.”

Peter didn’t dare open his mouth again. He paled and silently watched as Lucky grabbed his coat and headed out the room again.

When Jake opened the door with a cigarette hanging from between his lips and his tie loose around his neck, he grinned. “Lucky.”

He just sighed and shoved his way into the room, greeting in a flat voice, “Jake.”

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