let them boys be

(this is my spot, dammit)

Summary: The rooftop was his sanctuary. So who's the guy sprawled across his spot today?
Themes/Tags: skipping class. classic rooftop scene. lazy afternoons. school/classmates.
Warnings: don't skip math, kids. it'll ruin you, trust me.

(this is my spot, dammit) -     

When the bell rings, he's the first one to bolt out the door. Thankfully, his seat is in the last row and near the door, because otherwise he might be trampled by all the other students nearly bored to death from the teacher's accented drawl about quadratics and real numbers. It doesn't help that he's not exactly tall or good in the physical abilities department----he's just average. 

Averagely invisible.

Lunch in hand and iPod in the other, he makes his way up the stairs and to that heavy door that's supposedly locked but not if you have a pencil and know just which way to push it. With the ease of someone who's done it countless times before, he unlocks the door and pushes it open, allowing the slight breeze and sunlight to brush his face. He lets the door click shut behind him, smiling slightly at the quietness and emptiness of the rooftop. His rooftop.

Humming softly to himself, he makes his way around the skylights, making a beeline for his special spot in the corner. He's about to plop down like he always does when he realizes something's not right. He's not the only one on the rooftop today.

"Wha---who are you?" he exclaims, scowling. He claimed this spot from the second week of school, and he's never seen anyone else up here to challenge him about it. So who the heck is this guy?

The boy currently sprawled on his spot lazily opens one eye. "Eh? Who are you?"

"I asked you first!"

The boy raises his eyebrow, his lazy expression not changing one bit. "Ah, did the lunch bell ring?" the  boy asks, noticing the lunch bag in his hands and ignoring his question.

"Yes, it----hey, I asked you a question!"

The boy sighs, sitting up and running a hand through his messy dark blond hair. "Me? Nash. Call me Nash." He grins up at him, apparently not noticing the other boy's distress at all.

"What are you doing here?" 

"What's it look like? Taking a nap." Nash squints up at him. "What's got your panties in a bunch, munchkin?"

"My name is Eli, not munchkin," he snaps. He points at the ground Nash is sitting on. "That's my spot."

Nash tilts his head. "Really? I didn't see your name on it."

He sighs, frustrated. "I've been coming here since the second week school started. I've never seen you here before."

"Ah, I just transfered last week," Nash says nonchalantly. He shrugs. "Okay, I guess. I'll let you eat in peace." He gets up, dusting off his pants. 

Eli watches him in silence, realizing how tall the boy is. He must be the one the girls have all been squealing about lately, about the new transfer being 'such a shame' because he's 'got the looks' or something but is 'too much of a bad boy'. Well, he was skipping class. Eli doesn't really care. He just cares about nobody stealing his safe haven.

"All yours," the boy says, lips half-curled up. He sweeps a hand at the spot, giving a little bow as he backs to the door. "See ya, munchkin."

Eli scowls at the shutting door. "Don't call me munchkin," he retorts belatedly. Weirdo.

-!-

The next day, the boy is there again. Eli sighs, walking over anyway.

"Oh, hey, munchkin," Nash says, smiling lazily at Eli. He doesn't get up from where he is sprawled on the rooftop. "The breeze is nice, ain't it?"