perf*ct (boy × boy) ✔

six: the basics of frostford high

solar clarke's pov

When I watched them walking across the school yard, all the while forgetting to listen to what Kieran was twaddling about, I couldn't believe I used to think they were the same person. They looked the same, but otherwise they couldn't have been more different.

Nicholas kept his chin up, flashing poised grins at everyone who greeted them while passing by. Nathan was looking down, his left hand gripping the strap of his bag. When Nicholas' friends, Alex Crespo and the one with the white sneaker obsession, joined them, Nicholas was all smiles. Everything in his body language indicated ease and assertiveness.

All in contrast to Nathan, who had seemed to shrink as soon as the others joined them. He glanced at his phone, mumbled something to the others and fled from the scene. 

I contemplated whether I should run after him to apologize, now that I finally had a chance, but I thought it better not to let Nicholas witness the occurrence. I had a feeling he wouldn't have appreciated me running after his brother, no matter how good my intentions were.

The way Nicholas had glared at me this morning in the practice was enough to tell me he wouldn't hesitate to end my life painfully if I made even a tiny mistake. He had made sure I couldn't pitch with Johnny like I normally did, and even paired me with the only team member I could never make the drill flow with.

It seemed like I had managed to make myself a rather powerful enemy. I think I should consider that as an accomplishment of some sort: I was the only enemy of the false god Nicholas. Everyone loved the guy and he loved everyone — except me. 

Then Nicholas and his friends were gone too, and as Johnny had joined me and Kieran I had no other option than to follow after them to the first class of the day. Ms. Delaney's classes were my favorites, mainly because she made us read all the best literature classics and, well, also just because English happened to be my favorite subject. 

At that time we were reading Crime and Punishment from Fyodor Dostoevsky, but instead of spending the class reading, we were tasked to write a short essay from one of the seven subjects Ms. Delaney wrote on the white board.

I was pondering between two options and reeling a pen in my hand absent-mindedly, when I got a feeling someone was staring at me.

I had known I was in the same English class with Nicholas and that he sat two desks on my left. Except, of course, it wasn't really him. Ms. Delaney had only said Dawson when she had filled the list of participants, and "Nicholas" had always lifted his hand dutifully. Even if he had been oddly quiet, I had simply shrugged it off. After all, his group of less known false gods hadn't been there to chat with him.

The Dawson twin who was sitting two desks on my left had a bluish-purple bruise on the bridge of his nose. That and the way he swiftly looked away once I caught him from staring was more than enough to tell me which one he was. 

Being in the same class with Nathan was excellent news, because it meant I would have more opportunities to approach him. Even better was that Nicholas wasn't there to monitor my every move.

I still hadn't chosen my topic even though almost half an hour of precious time to write the essay had passed, because my focus was entirely on the guy sitting two desks on my left. I found it fascinating how identical twins, despite the resemblance of their looks and the genes they shared, could be so different.

Even more than that, I had a feeling I could actually like Nathan. I was certain that in any other circumstances we could be good friends, somehow I just knew that even though I didn't know him.

Nathan was biting his lower lip while he scribbled words on the paper and his caramel brown hair curtained his eyes when he leaned down to take a closer look. Now that I paid attention to him, I could tell his hair was messier than Nicholas', like he couldn't bother to style it every other hour like Nicholas did. That was another thing I liked about Nathan more than his brother: he wasn't trying too much.