Slacker [BXB] ✓

t h r e e

"Barnes," Max hisses, attempting to stand up but failing horribly and being forced to stabilize himself on the edge of the seat.

Sadly, Barnes has to grab his forearm and pull him back up. Then, to make things worse, keep holding his forearm so that Max can grab his crutches without falling down again.

Wow. Embarrassing.

See, Max wouldn't mind literally anyone having to follow him around - except Barnes. Barnes is the exception. Barnes should just leave.

Max's reasoning for despising Barnes is completely logical, too. They used to beat the shit out of each other. He can't remember who started it or when or any of the details as to why they would beat the shit out of each other. He just knows that they did. They would practically do it all throughout elementary school. They were enemies all throughout elementary school.

And according to Max, they still are.

Eventually Max got put in special classes and Barnes went on to be smart and successful as fuck. Definitely future valedictorian. Class president. Never done anything illegal, and overall way too good to kick anyone's ass. (Because really, Max was usually the one that looked way worse.)

So, while Barnes moved on to become a golden child, Max was left with disabilities and drugs and skateboards and straight D's - which he is completely okay with, he gave up on being smart a while ago.

So they lost contact. Barnes is viewed as nice and successful while Max is deemed 'different' and 'no good' and 'definitely not someone you want your child around'.

To put it simply, Barnes cheated at life and Max hates him for it.

"Aw come on, Tucker. You can't still hate me?"

Max rips his arm away from Barnes' and attempts to storm out of the room. (Storming is pretty hard to do when you're on crutches and the bruising in your shoulder hasn't gotten much better).

Why does he even need a fucking escort? He's never gotten this sort of special treatment before! Then again, he's never really gotten this injured before. He's sprained a lot, broken a few ribs... and maybe his arm too? He can't remember, maybe he has gotten an escort before. His memory sucks. Too many injuries to count.

Eventually he makes it to Miss Reeves' class, Barnes behind him. As he steps in, he realizes the class is mostly full. And they are all staring at him.

"Max!" Miss Reeves jogs her way over to him, pulling him into a hug. He gives her a small smile when she pulls away, she's practically his third mother. "I have you set up right in the back."

Max nods, before hobbling his way towards the back. He hears Miss Reeves happily greeting Barnes behind him.

Stupid Barnes. He doesn't deserve her love.

Max feels very conflicted over his first period. After all, it's art. What does art consist of? Colors. What is Max? Colorblind. (He did kind of take this class purposefully though, in a random fit of anger at his bullshit eyesight, and he strongly regrets it now. The only thing good about this class is Miss Reeves.)

Sixteen years of living and he still doesn't have a full grasp on colors. They really all kinda run together in his mind.

This is actually a class he has with people that aren't in Special Ed. He isn't sure how the system works, all he knows is that in this class he feels a little bit normal.

His 'set up' is a rectangular table with two chairs at it. One on the long side, and the other right next to it on the shorter. In other words, it has him and Barnes sitting way too close for his liking.