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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"I see... well, come for dinner then." Jon says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. "I hardly see why you should shoulder the burden her emotional needs when she clearly needs to work something out with this man."

He considers a moment more before continuing, "You can use this as an excuse, if you need it. Make it sound more dramatic than it was."

"I'm not going to lie to my mum," Martin says with a huff, as if he hadn't just sort of suggested that he might sneak out to head over before. "But- I mean, if your Gram really was hoping for help with dinner... I could bring some home for her. That'd be a fair trade, wouldn't it?"

"Now who sounds ridiculous? You're a teenager, Martin, a white lie to go eat dinner with a little old lady rather than staying home is exceptionally tame." Jon rolls his eyes, but yeah, that was Martin as far as he's seen. "And she is, so there you go, your integrity is in tact. Thank god, if not you'd truly be walking down the path of sin with this deception."

Martin rolls his eyes at that, finishing off his piece of fruit before he stands up and chucks the peel into a trash can. He glances toward the door, offering Jon a hand to help him to his feet. "Come on, then. I can't imagine they're still there."

Jon pauses for a brief moment before taking the offered hand, using the leverage to pull himself up. "No, I would hope not. If they're that dedicated it would be frightening."

He shifts his bag, regarding the bloody handkerchief before looking back to Martin. "I'll get this clean and return it, unless you'd prefer it back now." And then, after a longer pause he speaks again. "... thank you. For the handkerchief." And caring on some level at all, but that was far too awkward to say.

"It's just a handkerchief, Jon, don't worry about it," Martin says with a half-smile, completely and utterly missing any of the nuance in the gratitude. "Why don't you just keep it? They come in like three packs, I'm honestly fine."

He scrubs his fingers through his hair, cracking the door open to peer outside, and then-

"All clear. We should be safe to escape."

"I'm hoping I won't need it again for anything like this." Jon settles for. He feels like his intended thank you may have been missed but clearly there was nothing he could do about it.

He sighs and follows to the door, glancing around himself before heading out. The silence was comforting, the halls tended to echo when they were this empty so it was fairly unlikely anyone was even remotely nearby. "Good, what a load of nonsense that was. I lost my math notebook too, wonderful." He'd have to, shock and dread, ask another human for notes. Horror. He hikes his backpack up higher, ignoring this most tremendous of tasks for the moment. "I suppose we'll be parting ways then, unless you plan on coming right over."

"Sorry about that," he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck and casting a sheepish sideways look to Jon. "You could borrow mine if you'd like. I'm probably not exactly on your level of note-taking, but I imagine it'd be better than nothing."

He clear his throat, humming thoughtfully then. "I mean... it'd be irresponsible of me to let you walk home by yourself, wouldn't it?" He seems to be hoping that Jon will back him up here.

Frankly Jon was kind of expecting Martin to want to escape the second he had the chance, given Jon had dragged him into some ridiculous nonsense out of the blue. He blinks but finds yeah, he certainly didn't mind having company on the walk home.

He does huff though. "I don't need an escort, I'm not that helpless." He mutters then straightens. "But it would make sense, strength in numbers and all that."

Just say yes you butt.

It helped that the nonsense that Jon dragged him to had everything to do with actively protecting him, so, well - Martin finds it hard to mind. Really, he doesn't mind spending time around Jon at all. He's a pretty decent fellow, all things considered.

"Jon," he says, tone amused, "you really are something else, you know? Come on. I hate keeping your Gram waiting."

"What does that mean exactly?" Jon asks, which he's pretty sure Martin doesn't mean it in a bad way so he mostly sounds like he's grumbling. He follows though, refusing to admit it was a lot less stressful to travel after all that with someone there.

As they walk Jon contemplates this, glancing to Martin. "Also you're one to talk. I didn't expect you to be so ready for a row."

Martin actually flushes at this, the tips of his ears turning pink. "I wasn't ready for a row, but- I couldn't just let them gang up on you. Especially not if you were only fighting with them because of me in the first place."

He reaches up, gently - playfully - shoving at Jon's upper arm.

"You had no idea you were involved at first." Jon points out, half matter-of-fact but half vaguely teasing in a way only a socially inept kid like him could. "Very gallant, Martin. What was it you said? Something about how we could take them at one point."

Of course Jon couldn't be completely normal about the shove, staring a moment as he registered what it was. He wasn't used it, sue him, but when realization does hit he clears his throat as if that would cover up the awkward moment. "Anyway... I am surprised they'd say anything about you. You're hardly the unpopular sort." In Jon's mind. To be fair having one (1) friend made him better off than Jon, and he usually saw Martin around Tim. Who was very popular, in his way.

"Yeah, well- people will mostly talk about anyone, from what I figure. It's okay." Martin manages to skate by nebulously neither really popular nor unpopular. Tim is his only close friend, sure, but he's got casual friends. Acquaintances. Few people actively dislike him, at least. "I was just being realistic, anyway. Most people won't fight two by themselves. Just bad numbers."

He shifts the weight of his pack on his shoulders, lapsing into silence as they walk, before he eventually scuffs at a rock with his shoe.

"I appreciate you and your gram a lot, you know. Honestly."

"Well, I suppose you have a point. There's no use looking for logic where there is none." Jon answers after a beat, perfectly willing to accept the dudes were just asses and Martin was a random choice. Still, he was glad that he informed Martin of all this before it got back to him. He imagined it'd be a nasty shock otherwise.

He faintly wondered what Tim would do if he found out. They weren't even remotely friends but he knew Tim well enough to know he'd be livid. It'd probably be quite the show.

He's considering this, lips almost quirking, when Martin speaks again and glances over with surprise. "Me? I understand my grandmother, she's practically adopted you." He considers a moment. "I suppose I should thank you for making her happy. She's been far less dour since she's had you to badger."

"Oh, don't be so grumpy, Jon. She's a really lovely woman." He kicks his foot again, just sort of scuffing at the dirt as he walks in lieu of thinking up an actual conversation topic. "So, I was wondering- d'you wanna go to the cinema this weekend?"

He casts a sideling glance his way, then hastily looks ahead.

"Tim's busy, but I've already got the tickets, so..."

"Lovely is a word for it." Jon answers. To be fair there was no spite there, his grandmother was pretty alright and had been more so since Martin came around. She really was less dour and generally a little sad.

Martin was winning the surprise Jon forever award today because again he's thrown for a loop there. "You want to go with me?" He can't help asking, lips thinning a moment before adding. "Is this because you feel you owe me for defending you?"

Just accept the ~~date~~ friendly offer for fuck's sake Jon.

"What? No." Maybe just a little bit. "It's because Tim can't go and I don't want to go by myself. Have you never been to the cinema before, Jon? It's - oh, imagine an enormous television screen, and then a bucket of really expensive popcorn... sometimes friends go, without ulterior motives!" He's teasing him, of course, shooting him a sideways glance and a funny little look. "I just thought it'd be fun. You don't have to."

Jon squints at him, as if he's trying to figure out if this is some sort of pity/obligation thing someone like Martin would feel was owed. After a beat he decides to give Martin the benefit of the doubt, and then he's stuck with deciding if he'd even want to go to the movies with someone.

Huh. "You're hilarious, really, tell me more about these incredible technological wonders." He answers dryly. "No, I... sure. I suppose. As long as this isn't some obligation you feel you owe me now. What's the movie? If it's something daft I take it back."

"I can't remember what it's called. It's some- suspense thing? There are ghosts, I think. It's not supposed to be scary! Just- tense, maybe?" He shifts the weight of his bag on his back again, just to have something to do with his hands. "And honestly, you'd be doing me a favor, not the other way around. I don't wanna go alone."

"Oh, a thriller you mean?" This was more to Jon's interests than a lot of shit was so that was good. "That's fine, I was worried it'd be some ridiculous, crude comedy."

Right, ok. He glances over again, realizing he wouldn't really mind. Maybe he was more fond of Martin's company than he admitted to himself. "I'm buying the overpriced popcorn."

"Jon, come on, who uses the word 'crude' in regular conversation? Maybe a movie is good! Maybe you'll lighten up." He jams his hands into his pockets, smiling now. He'd been in a bit of a mood earlier, but it's clear that it's lifted quite a bit; the usual buoyancy has returned to his voice. "But fine, you can buy the popcorn, as long as you get like- loads of extra butter. It's only good with extra butter."

"Have you considered maybe you're the one who has to examine his vocabulary?" Jon gripes, though this wasn't so bad given a short while ago he was running from people who wanted to kick his ass. He somehow ended up with weekend plans. What a rollercoaster of a day. "That type of humor is best described as crude, it's immature and ridiculous. And don't say we're kids, we can have standards."

His lips quirk slightly. "I hate to admit you're right, it tastes too much like cardboard otherwise. Fine, it's a deal. If you're on time I might even buy candy as well." As if he's assuming Martin will be late. Rude.

"Maybe I'm the one who talks like a real person, Jon," he says with a laugh, before pushing him again playfully. If asked, Martin wouldn't be able to say why he keeps doing that, or why he keeps seeking out stupid little excuses to touch Jon like that.

But he's still smiling a little as he continues along. "Are you trying to bribe me into being on time with candy? 'Cause it'll work."

This time Jon doesn't stare, if anything the fact Martin kept playfully shoving made the action seem more normal. It was just what- well, friends? Were they friends? That thought strikes him, and he can't help but blurt it out. "Martin, are we friends?"

Well. That was an awkward thing to ask. He doesn't seem to notice that as he scoffs. "If that's what it takes. I'm getting Red Vines though, I hope you can accept that as a proper bribe."

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