bemorelovely | highschool au!

highschool au!

Frankly Jon found highschool tropes exhausting, which was unfortunate because he occasionally lived them. The particular one that was the most annoying was 'bully the weird nerd who thinks he's smarter than everyone,' mostly because it ended damaged notebooks, occasional bruises and, worst of all, wasted time. So much wasted time.

Jon was smart though, and even if he didn't have the best common sense he learned how to keep under the radar most of the time. If keeping his mouth shut on occasion meant he could have a peaceful day he could manage, most of the time. Sometimes he couldn't.

Today was one of those times.

Earlier in the day he heard some comments from one of the brutes about Martin, of all people, something not necessarily strange given Martin was a bit of a chatterbox but unpleasant all the same. That may not have been enough to have him say anything- Martin was fine, he guessed, in a way that reminded Jon of eager dogs- if they hadn't brought up Martin's mother.

Maybe it was just nonsense, maybe there was some sort of rumor going around, whatever the reason the talk existed it rubbed Jon the wrong way, and he made the incredibly stupid decision of getting the group's attention and sassing them.

Yeah, that didn't go great.

In the end he managed to get away, losing his notebook to them and sporting a split lip for his trouble. He was pretty sure he lost them when he slammed right into someone down the empty, after school English hall.

"Oof- for god's sake, watch where you're going!" He shot out testily, because he apparently never learned.

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"Wh- sorry! Sorry, sorry, I wasn't paying attention, but you should be looking out where you're going, too, you know-"

At this point, Martin isn't altogether too surprised when it's Jon Sims of all people who he runs into. He takes a few clumsy steps back, righting his pack over his shoulder, before he actually seems to notice the state that the other boy is in.

"Are you- Jon, is that blood? What happened to your lip? I've got- I should have a handkerchief or something in my bag somewhere, hold on-"

Which means he's going to crouch down and begin digging through for it right now.

"Martin?" Jon stares a moment- of course it'd be Martin who ran into him. The only person who could make this situation worse if those idiots found him would be Martin, given how this all started.

Speaking of he glances behind him, ignoring Martin for the moment. He swore he heard something, and with a muffled curse he reaches down to grab Martin's wrist and try to tug him to his feet.

"Come on, we need to go, now."

"What?" Martin blinks up at Jon, but doesn't pull away when he takes his wrist and tries to drag him. "What happened? Were you- are you hiding from someone?"

And then he scowls.

"Is someone giving you a hard time?"

Jon ignores most of that at first, pulling Martin down the hall. Most of the classrooms were locked up by now but he knew not all the teachers were so diligent, and after a couple of tries he finds an unlocked door.

He pulls them in, shutting it and letting out a sigh that they were probably fine. He at least hoped those idiots weren't so dedicated to this they'd start checking classrooms one by one, that's be vaguely horrifying.

Right, Martin. He lets go of Martin's wrist when he realizes, glancing over. "It's nothing." That was the dumbest and most pointless lie ever. He rolls his eyes at himself. "They'll get bored soon enough and we can leave, until then just stay here, will you?"

"What? What do you mean- I'm not keen on just hiding from some bullies in an old classroom, especially not if they've attacked you already." He's still scowling just a little bit, even if he doesn't quite understand or recognize his own sense of protectiveness here. He knows Jon isn't a bad guy- he certainly doesn't deserve this.

"Who is it?" He asks then with a sigh, hauling his bookbag up onto a chair and frowning again as he digs out the handkerchief, and then offers it to Jon. "I can go find a teacher. Or- there are two of us, we outnumber whoever it is."

Jon's brow raises, a little surprised at all this fuss. That did explain his kneejerk reaction at someone being nasty about Martin behind his back, the more he learned about Martin the more he realized he was a genuinely good guy, if not a bit overeager on occasion. Maybe he still felt a little guilty about bringing Martin's mother up that one time ages ago.

He regards the handkerchief before rolling his eyes but taking it. "It's going to stain." He points out, not using it yet in case that changed Martin's offer. "Trust me, finding a teacher is not going to make things better in the long run- and honestly, are you suggesting we go fight them? Even if we could beat them, which I sincerely doubt unless you've been hiding some sort of self defense skill, that will definitely make things worse."

He shakes his head. "Look, I'm sorry you got dragged into it, just trust my judgment here, alright? Ten minutes at most and we'll be clear to go about our business."

Martin fixes him with a funny little look at the remark, even as he sighs and settles onto a seat against the wall. "Yes, Jon, I have actually bled myself too, you know. It's fine, it's just an old handkerchief."

He pulls his bookbag into his lap, wrapping his arms around it and motioning for Jon to sit next to him. He's still watching him sort of critically, though. "So what happened, anyway?"

"It's a waste." Jon huffs, but apparently Martin wins this round because he presses the handkerchief to his lip. This has the added benefit of shutting him up for a few moments, time he uses to glance around before ultimately taking Martin's offer and the seat beside him.

He pulls the handkerchief away, regarding the blood on it with distaste. "I ran my mouth when I shouldn't have, the usual." He sniffs, yeah not telling him why just yet. That would be weird, probably. "In my defense they were being more intolerable than usual, spreading nasty nonsense, also typical. Why are you here anyway? I thought you'd be helping Gram this afternoon."

"Oh." Martin looks extremely torn here. On one hand, he doesn't want to ask because isn't that just further spreading the nasty gossip that Jon was complaining about? On the other hand- "Since when do you care if people are spreading rumors? That's just what teenagers do, Jon. I had a girl tell me very sincerely yesterday that she heard Mr. Tillerson is probably some sort of werewolf."

The question gives Martin pause, before he shakes his head. "Nah, mum wants me home tonight. Why?" He doesn't want to admit that there's a reason why he's been loitering around a bit at school.

"I-" Shit, Martin had him there. Typically he didn't care, regardless of who it was getting trashed. Rumors were pointless and getting upset over them just gave them more power than they already had. Frankly if it had been something stupid about Martin he might have been annoyed but still ultimately let it go, but his was... well, different. Somehow.

"There are stupid rumors and there are nasty ones that will cause harm to the person involved." Jon finally settles on. "I know for a fact this would bother the recipient and it seemed a better idea to just distract the idiots rather than let them get started. It was just a logical diversion, I could have thrown something shiny into their little ring and had the same result."

Good enough, he hoped. Sadly Martin mentioning his mom tests his poker face immensely and he hurriedly pushes the handkerchief back up to his very sluggishly bleeding lip. "Hm." Nailed it. When he pulls his hand away he tries again. "I don't know, you're just usually over anyway. Gram keeps talking about making some recipe or another she'll need help with and I'm not invited because I'm too 'picky.' That's code for I actually follow the recipe for god's sake."

"Jon, you sound like you're thirty," which, when you're a teenage boy? Thirty is ancient. "Who even talks like that? I knew for a fact that it would bother the recipient," he mimics good-naturedly, but the sideways look he's throwing his way is definitely proud. "But that's- that's really sweet of you, you know. I honestly didn't think you'd have it in you. You've never really seemed to care much about gossip? The people gossiping or getting gossiped about, I mean."

The remarks about dinner give him visible pause, though, and he's obviously struggling for a moment.

"Well- let her know I'll see what I can do, okay? I do love her cooking."

"I hardly see how speaking with some degree of thought makes me 'sound like I'm thirty.'" Jon immediately huffs, sounding like an ancient thirty year old all the more. This was actually a step up for him though because before he would have assumed the worst and snapped back. Small steps. The bit about it being sweet makes him turn and stare, baffled. The embarrassed as he looks away.

"It's not- it was just too much, that's all. I'm not a complete ass, you know." He mutters, then glances over again. Good, his ploy to give Martin an excuse to come over if he wanted worked. Why did Jon care? He wasn't sure, honestly. "I'll let her know. Don't bring this up with her, will you?"

"What, you think she's just not gonna notice the split lip you've got there?" Martin lifts his eyebrows, leaning forward slightly and gesturing to Jon's face. "She's not completely oblivious, you know."

"I'm well aware of that, Martin, but there are plenty of perfectly mundane reasons for a split lip." As though he could successfully pull off lying to her. "Which is hardly worth wasting time on to begin with. So will you or not?"

"I mean, I won't bring it up on my own, but if she asks me - I don't know why you're embarrassed to say you got it standing up for someone."

He's digging through his bag now, before he pulls a clementine out and begins to peel it with his fingers.

"Who were they talking about, anyway? Anyone I know?"

"Ugh, you're useless. Can't you just say you don't know?" Jon sighs, not all that surprised but here they were. "I don't care about the reasoning behind it, I just don't need to give her another reason to constantly question my social life, thank you."

Oh boy. Jon clears his throat, and in the most obvious lie ever says, "... no. Not at all."

"Well, I mean, if I say that, she's just going to ask me to find out, seems like a lot of lies layered on lies, you know?"

And speaking of lies - that last one he gives doesn't convince Martin in the least.

"--who was it, Jon? Was it you? Were they saying things about you?" He's Unhappy.

"What, really? Lord, she's so nosy." Jon sighs, leaning back against the wall. "I'll just avoid her until it heals, problem solved." Not really but he could dream.

Again Jon is surprised, brow raising. "What? No, why would I care? They're always talking nonsense about me, I got used to it in grade school." He rolls his eyes before giving up with a soft exhale. "Fine, just- it was you, they were talking about your mother. I don't think it will spread but if you hear anything I guess you'll at least be prepared."

"They were - but what were they even-"

Martin's hand fumbles slightly with the clementine, and he can feel his own face heating up in a sudden surge of embarrassment. He suddenly can't really make himself look too closely at Jon.

"That's why you made me hide?"

"Just the sort of nonsense teenage boys say, it isn't worth repeating." Jon answers tersely, because yeah you can imagine the sort of stuff teenage boys say about mothers. He wasn't sure why they decided to rag on Martin all the sudden, or if they even had the slightest idea that Martin's mother was less than ideal, but regardless it had grated on him quickly.

"Well... yes. You know running away can actually be a terrible response? Giving chase triggers aggression in people, which ultimately makes getting caught worse. They've done studies of it in animals enough though I'm sure there's enough cases of police brutality after a long chase to give good data." He pauses then clears his throat. "... anyway, the point is if they caught up and you were there you'd likely try to help or defuse the situation, they'd likely say what they were saying and- I'm sure it's obvious what a mess it would have been. They would have targeted you to some extent if they've decided to spread nasty rumors."

"Oh."

His face flushes a little darker then, and then when he glances at Jon, it's clear that he's focuses on the injury to his lip. He frowns slightly, hesitantly picking his clementine back up, even as he seems to withdraw just a little into himself here.

"Um- thank you. For- standing up for me, I guess. You didn't have to do that."

"... no, I suppose not, but I'm sure you would have done it for most people." Jon deflects, awkward and obviously not used to this sort of thing. He regards Martin for a few moments, neatly but nervously folding the handkerchief now that it wasn't needed.

"You... seem upset. Did I do something wrong here?" He finally asks, genuine in his confused concern. "I'm sure they'll drop these rumors, if you're worried about it. I think it was more passing nasty comments for whatever reason, not an attack." And now they'd probably talk about him being a crazy loser or whatever.

"What? No, no, you didn't- it's just embarrassing, that's all. I'm not- I really don't care if people talk about me, Jon. It's not like they could possibly know the circumstances or whatever, you know? And just, I guess--"

Martin shrugs his shoulders, before he peels out a piece of clementine and offers it over to Jon.

"I wasn't always so nice to you, either. Before I knew you. Said some mean things before I figured out you weren't the giant arse I thought you were, you know? So - sorry, belatedly, I think."

"Oh." Jon answers eloquently, regarding the offered clementine slice a moment before taking it. He considers it a moment, and his own response. "Well that's understandable, I know I'm considered rather unbearable. To be fair I assumed you would be like the last person my grandmother hired and, perhaps, wasn't very fair in my treatment of you from the get go."

He glances over, brow raised. "Apology accepted, I suppose. It's rather ridiculous if you truly feel bad about it anyway, you've been fair for a while now- unless you're talking behind my back, which I doubt." Nice.

"You're still talking like an old man, you know," Martin says with a little half-smile, relaxing slightly against the wall. "You're allowed to use slang and stuff." He eats a segment of the clementine, if only to stall more than anything else, before he crosses his legs and sort of digs idly through his bookbag.

"Was the last person she hired an arse or something? Doesn't seem like she'd put up with that sort of thing."

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