Chapter Text
Tom glanced at the clock. Class let out in another ten minutes. He had no one to blame but himself, he thought, as he hunched over his paper, trying in vain to solve the math problem before they were released. Earlier in the semester, he’d become so absorbed in his drama club that he hadn’t realize how far he’d slipped in his Statistics class. Before he knew it, his grade was below average and he needed to take summer school to even out his GPA. Even worse, taking this class meant he would not be able to attend the Shakespeare Summer Parks Festival, where he’d hoped to intern with one of the drama instructors. His disappointment could still make frustrated tears sting his eyes in moments of solitude.
His teacher, Mr. Shaw, was a guy in his mid-thirties who had dirty blond hair cropped near his ears and always made it a rule that the last person to turn in their sheets would stay after class and wipe the black board. So far Tom had to stay twice, the second time as uncomfortable as the first. From the beginning, Tom had the unnerving feeling that Mr. Shaw liked for him to stay after class, sliding up to his desk after the other students had gone, sometimes reaching over to touch Tom on the shoulder, making it a point for Tom to call him by his first name, Ken.
And then there was that other thing.
Shaking his head to rid himself of the memory, he hoped he wouldn’t have to stay again today. He bent low over his work and tried to concentrate. After erasing a wrong number for the fifth time, he bit his lip in frustration, swiping away at the rubber shavings. He peeked up at the other students in the class and tried to gauge how far along they were in their assignments. Rory, somewhat of a recluse, sat low in his seat in the far corner, fiddling with his pencil, his worksheet placed in the corner. Tom had the impression that he was already done. How did he solve the problem so fast? Sitting in the middle of the class was Ava, a shy-looking girl who scribbled for a bit on her paper, held it up to check it over and then sat back, completed. He couldn’t tell anything by looking at the other two students. Tom saw that there were about three minutes left and he bent over his work again, but not before sneaking a look at Chris Hemsworth, who sat two seats in front of him. Chris was quite stunning, when Tom thought about it. And he thought about Chris a lot. Ever since Chris had moved to their district a year ago, Tom had often gazed at Chris from a distance. Chris was on the basketball team and from what Tom understood, his grades had suffered with his attention split between academics and sports. As an athlete, Chris had friends in circles Tom was not a part of. Chris, with his easy smile and laid-back charm, could be friends with anyone, a trait Tom envied, Tom who was painfully shy and preferred the startling freedom of the stage to face to face encounters with people who would actually know him as a person. Tom watched Chris as he reclined in his chair, his golden hair flipped casually.
“Alright, pass up your assignments.”
Tom snapped his head up, horrified that class was over and he still hadn’t finished the problem. He quickly scribbled an answer near the bottom and hoped Mr. Shaw wouldn’t notice that his equation was incomplete. He passed his paper up to Chris, who stretched back and took it from him, an open smile on his face. Tom blushed and quickly began gathering his things, sticking them in his black backpack. Two of the five students had left already, leaving Tom, Chris and Ava. Chris was already at the door, Ava close behind. Mr. Shaw was at his desk, flicking through the papers in his hand. Tom zipped his bag and stalked to the door, nearly there, almost—
“Tom?”
He froze, acutely aware that his classmates were gone. He turned around and faced Mr. Shaw.
“Your assignment, Tom. It’s unfinished. And the answer is nowhere near correct.” He stood from his desk and gestured to the seat in the front of the class. “Come sit and we can talk it over.”
The last thing Tom wanted to do was sit. He pointed to the white board. “I should clean the board first, right?” He set his backpack down by the door and walked to the front of the class, grabbing the spray and towel. He flinched when he felt Mr. Shaw follow him, coming to stand directly by his side.
“That’s not important.” Shaw’s grey eyes flitted over Tom’s face, lingering on Tom’s blond curls. He smiled quickly, reaching up a hand to lay on the curve of Tom’s shoulder, squeezing and kneading at the muscle there. Tom’s mind was in a frenzy, begging not to be touched, not again, please not like last time. “What’s important is that you understand what you’re working on.” He paused. “I also wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I really--.”
They both tensed when they heard whistling just outside in the hall. Mr. Shaw quickly dropped his hand and stepped back a bit. Tom felt the warm imprint of Mr. Shaw’s hand on the material of his T-shirt and swallowed down his disgust.
“Sorry, I forgot my practice bag.”
Tom couldn’t see who had entered, but he knew that voice. He turned his head and saw that Chris had come back in, heading to his desk where his gym bag lay unnoticed. He grabbed it and looked up at Tom, who couldn’t turn his gaze away, his eyes locked onto Chris, pleading inside to please don’t go.
Something in Tom’s face must have alarmed Chris, because he hesitated a moment as he hitched his bag onto his shoulder. He flicked his blue eyes to Mr. Shaw, who had walked back to his desk, sight locked onto the sheet in front of him, and then back to Tom, who quickly stared down at the floor, face blooming with color. Chris smiled and started walking back to the door.
“You ready, Tom?”
When Tom hesitated, whispering a weak, “Um,” Chris sighed loudly and turned back to him. “Did you forget? You called me last night asking for a ride because your mom had a dental appointment? You’re lucky I forgot my bag or I would have left without you. Now, let’s go. I have to meet some of the guys at the park.” Tom quickly dismissed his confusion, dismissed that he always walked home and his mother would never need him to get a ride from school. All he knew was that Chris was offering him a way out and he took it. Chris stood waiting as Tom returned the spray and towel to their place on the metal tray lining the bottom of the board. Mr. Shaw was silent during this entire exchange, seemingly absorbed in the students’ assignments. He looked up when Tom started heading in Chris’s direction.
“Tom, we’ll talk about your assignment on Monday. I expect better effort in your homework.”
Tom nodded mutely and snatched up his backpack, slipping out the door ahead of Chris. He heard Chris say he wished Mr. Shaw a great weekend and then his footsteps caught up to him.
“Hey.”
Tom ducked his head and kept walking, the halls silent and eerie without the usual chaos of student crowds.
“Hey, wait.” He felt Chris’s fingers at his elbow and stopped walking.
“Thank you,” he whispered, blurting it out as he turned to Chris without looking at him. “But you didn’t have to do that.” He was furious at the tears he felt gathering in his eyes. He stared glumly down at Chris’s sneakers, worn but clean.
Chris dropped his hand and sighed quietly. “Yes, I did. Your eyes were wider than saucers. You were terrified.”
Tom shook his head stubbornly, looking down the hall and saying, “I was not terrified.”
Chris didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Are you okay now?”
Tom nodded and fiddled with the strap of his bag.
“Look at me.”
Tom breathed out slowly and then raised his eyes, expected to see pity in Chris’s face, preparing himself to deny it. But there was anger in Chris’s brow, his lips pressed together, as if he was stopping himself from saying something he shouldn’t.
“What has he done?” They were whispering just in front of the doors that lead out into the front of the school, aware perhaps, that the person they were talking about was just down the hall.
Surprised at the question, Tom pushed through the double doors and out into the glaring sun. He didn’t want to talk about this. It was embarrassing enough as it was, without Chris being aware of it. He usually brushed it off and forgot about it as soon as it happened. He would dread class later on.
He was a couple of steps down when Chris took hold of his elbow, gently, just enough to spin Tom around to face him.
“Answer me. Has he done anything to you?”
Tom blinked and shrank away slightly. He was a step below Chris and the difference in their heights was startling. Chris was already very tall for a senior, maybe three or four inches over six feet. Tom was thinner, but probably only about two inches shorter than Chris. He wasn’t necessarily weaker. He had his own lean muscles from working on the stage and behind the scenes, hauling props and adjusting light fixtures, moving himself and his co-actors around physical scenes. Either way, he felt the stark dissimilarities between himself and Chris almost immediately, his body warm from being so close to him, holding back a gasp at the feel of Chris’s hand on his arm. Chris was looking down at him with those blue eyes, narrowed at the moment, homed in to Tom’s face, waiting for his answer.
Tom shook his head, slightly defeated, giving in to Chris. He didn’t mind Chris crowding him, didn’t mind that Chris practically loomed over him. Having Chris this close felt exciting and made Tom feel safe. Not like when Mr. Shaw was close to him, just those few times, enough to make Tom never want to be that close to him again.
“No, he hasn’t done anything,” he whispered, the lie feeling like a dead weight on his tongue. He squinted up at Chris, the sun bright in his eyes.
Chris frowned, not buying it. “But?”
Tom fidgeted, his elbow still firmly in Chris’s hand. “But he does things that make me uncomfortable, okay?” He tugged his arm free and continued down the stairs, Chris close behind.
“Like what?”
Tom shrugged, not wanting to reveal the worst of it. “I don’t know. Like when I have to stay after class, he stands really close and touches me on my shoulder and arm.” He took a deep breath, surprised at the relief he felt at having finally said it, at least part of it. “He stares at me funny.”
“What are you going to do?”
Chris’s words stopped him and he spun back.
“Do? I’m not going to do anything. I have to pass this wretched class to get my average back up.” He hiked up his backpack and started down the front lawn, heading toward his house. It was about a fifteen minute walk, but he didn’t mind. “Besides, it’s my fault for being a prat and not paying attention to my grade before,” he called back to Chris.
“You’re walking? Let me give you a lift!” Tom stopped and cast a confused look at Chris over his shoulder.
“A lift? Don’t you have to meet your teammates?”
Chris grinned. “Does your mom have a dental appointment?”
For the first time that day, Tom felt his lips loosen into a smile. “Guess not.”
Chris stood there, smiling at him. Tom blinked, suddenly self-conscious. Then Chris motioned over with his arm.
“Come on. My car’s this way.”