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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"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."

And that makes Martin fix Jon with a funny little look, nearly stopping in his tracks before he catches himself and keeps up. "Is that- did you not think we were friends, Jon? You got bullied defending me."

"Well- I mean they were wrong, it's not quite the big deal as you're making it." Jon offers, though Martin did have a point. "I just ah- wasn't sure. I mean I do find you far more tolerable now that I understand you better, and I was genuinely irritated at their words. You hardly need to pick up that mantle out of obligation for something as simple as telling them to sod off about that nonsense."

"Oh my god, are you serious right now?" And then, like that, Martin thinks if he rolls his eyes any harder they might actually pop out of his head. "I don't feel obligated to you, you giant nerd. This may come as a surprise, but I actually enjoy spending time with you. What a total shock, I know."

"... did you really just call me a giant nerd? What are you, a cartoon character?" Jon asks, though that certainly did answer his concerns and his lips quirk despite himself. "Honestly, can you blame me for being concerned? You're you, I have no trouble imagining you feeling you owed someone something for as silly a reason as that."

"I'm nice to people, Jon, that doesn't mean I'm going to fake a friendship out of obligation. That's literally the opposite of being nice." He rolls his eyes again as he falls into step beside Jon again, smiling a little now, and he's possibly a little closer than he was before. "You've got a pretty twisted view of what being nice is."

"I suppose you have a point." Jon admits, glancing over- or up, Martin certainly hit his growth spurt and Jon was fairly sure he was never going to catch up. It would look awkward if it wasn't endearing on Martin, for whatever reason.

No, Jon was not going to dissect that thought deeply. "I'm sure it wouldn't have been fake, just an attempt you might not have made without the catalyst of today's incident- and don't even start on my vocabulary there." He answers dryly. "So if you're sure... then I'll look forward to it. It's been a while since I've gone to a movie."

Martin's height is the reason why he slouches, and he shrugs again with his hands in his pockets. "You really think that you've got me figured out, don't you? All of that- psychoanalysis there."

He shrugs very slightly there, face still forward. "Today isn't a catalyst for anything except me getting a new handkerchief, thanks."

"Of course not, it's not psychoanalysis," Jon huffs. "You're an empathetic, good sort- it's hardly something I'd need to dig into or analyze." Oh no he complimented someone. He makes a face but continues. "It's a testament to your character, don't complain."

And another face. "I told you I'll clean it." Just going to grumble that.

Martin rolls his eyes, but there's something decidedly fond about the gesture. "I can't believe you asked me if we were friends five minutes ago," he says. "C'mon. Do you race? Bet I can race you to that corner."

Literally a teenage boy.

"I wanted to be sure." Jon answers defensively. How dare, clearly it was a question that needed to be asked and not sort of obvious. "It's not a title you should just throw around." It kind of is though.

Have the most incredulous look. "You want to race?" He seems to consider this for way longer than necessary before, bafflingly, agreeing. "Fine. This is absolutely ridiculous but I hope I don't need to say as much. Racing... honestly." Yet you agreed!!

"You only think it's ridiculous because you're going to lose." Martin shoots Jon a look, something self-satisfied and amused, before he books it. He'll probably try to race him the entire way home.

"I am not, and even if I did it's because your legs are- Martin!" Jon was too busy huffing to notice the running right away. He books it immediately at well and he definitely, definitely loses and grumps about it later.

Dinner goes fine, as does the rest of the week. There are no further encounters with bullies; Martin spends as much time pestering Jon as he does helping his Gram; and by the time Saturday arrives, he's excited for the movie night.

He's still excited for the movie night when Saturday hits, too, but it comes on the tail end of an Argument with his mum and his step-dad both, one that leaves him wounded and bitter and frustrated all at the same time. He's late, but he's the one with the tickets, and so he's out of breath when he arrives, fishing them out of his pockets and shoving one at Jon when he finds him.

"Sorry," he says, but there's a tension in his jaw, an uncomfortable way that he isn't quite looking at Jon. "We've probably only missed some previews."

To say Jon was getting testy was an understatement, and as he stood infront of the theater it was pretty clear to anyone who got a good look at him. He glowered at the ground, his initial irritation at Martin cutting it close melting to something a little too much like hurt to make him comfortable. He didn't want to believe Martin had pulled some sort of bait and switch just to mock him, why would he? He never seemed the type, and in the days leading up to the movie he had been normal, maybe even more present in Jon's life than he had ever been.

It would be incredibly underhanded if this was all some joke, and despite his paranoia Jon didn't want to believe it so easily. He was late and he was definitely not getting any candy. The bribe failed.

When Martin did show up Jon was more than ready to give him a piece of his mind, an urge that withered when he saw the strange tension Martin was carrying. He took the ticket, baffled, before recovering and finding his own frustration mostly knocked out of him.

"Yes, well... good. Go get us seats and I'll forgive the tardiness, I'll get the popcorn." He didn't mind missing previews, or even the beginning. He said he'd get popcorn and by god he was getting popcorn. He did stop to give Martin a long look. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Or- no, really, I'm not fine, I just don't want to talk about it right now, okay? I'll be fine. It's stupid." He feels himself growing embarrassed when someone who passes by casts him a sidelong glance, and he swallows hard. "Thanks for the popcorn, I'm going- I'll get us seats."

And then, embarrassed, he ducks into the hallway, heading for the theater. When Jon eventually follows, he'll find it mostly empty, save for a few clusters of people who seem to be purposefully sitting as far away from each other as possible. Martin will be in the back, slumped down into his seat.

Jon watches him go, frowning slightly. Was this the sort of situation he went along with or was he supposed to push him into talking? He sighs and goes to get the popcorn, deciding he could choose after the movie. They wouldn't really have much of a chance to talk then anyway if they weren't being assholes.

He does buy candy, despite his severe warning about tardiness. Sue him.

When he reaches the theater he makes a b-line for Martin, frowning to himself at the slump. Boy, his curiosity was killing him but he had to refrain. He takes his seat, but not before pulling something from the popcorn bucket and dropping it on Martin's lap. It is a bag of M&Ms or whatever british people eat. Smarties? Who knows. Then he takes a seat, placing drinks in the holders and setting the popcorn within easy reach.

"The movie has mixed reviews." Yes, he looked this up. "Frankly I find that the most interesting type, assuming the reviews are genuine and the good ones aren't corporate pay offs."

Martin looks down at the bag of chocolate in his lap, uncomprehending. The trailers are over, the lights are dimming, he really shouldn't keep talking, but- "I thought you said you were getting Red Vines?"

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