Liability

Chapter 16 - Rhys

Note: As promised here is an extra chapter just for you guys. It's somewhat shorter than the usual chapter but the reason for that is that I divided the original chapter into two, I hope you don't mind it. I also hope you will enjoy the chapter.

Warning: Bad parenting! Mild gaslighting (if it can be called that), I'm sorry but Rhys' father is just useless as a parent to his son.

Armand doesn't mention Mark's continuous absence the next day or the day after that, but the way his eyes linger on the empty seat tells Rhys that he's noticed it and is less than happy about it. He is their official legal guardian, and not having any information about one of his students' whereabouts must put some shade on his imaginary perfect teacher rap.

Or maybe he's actually concerned.

It's a new concept to consider, but as much as Rhys hates to admit it, while Armand does look annoyed, it's somehow off. His expression shifts into something that almost looks troubled whenever he glances at the table where Mark should be sitting, brows wrinkling and lips thinning, yet he's not angry. And he still doesn't say a thing about it, concentrating on discussing the material at hand and letting them bark at each other about fictional characters and their motives in a story made long enough to be considered a classic.

Rhys considers staying after class to talk to Armand more than once, which surprises him even more than thinking that their teacher might care and for which he blames Thommy and his inane gushing about the man full-heartedly. It doesn't change the fact, though, that barely a week after meeting the man, he's considering giving up his resolutions of never trusting a teacher in his life again. And it's enough to stop him from seeking Armand out. Also to ignore Thommy's knowing, smug looks and dive into even more research on spying on others, getting immersed in the sea of information that proves to be useless for the very small yet important reason that he knows nothing about computer programming.

When Armand is seemingly a no show on Friday morning, Thommy gets the stupid idea to go and look for the man, because enjoying the free period is somehow not an option anymore. And Rhys somehow gets roped into the sheer idiocy, which ends a minute after it begins when Armand appears in front of them, having the time of his life with some hulking middle-aged guy like they are best friends. Rhys hates the asshole on site. And his hatred only gets worse when the bastard opens his mouth and spouts a bunch of slurs and orders Armand around like he has any right to do so.

Rhys just wants to bash his head in no matter the size difference between them.And of course it only goes downhill from there because Thommy finds the entire thing hilarious and while Armand's tactic of torturing them with that awful noise leaves Rhys once again somewhat uncertain about the man's real personality, it doesn't stop the others to swarm Thommy the moment Armand leaves the room after telling them about his now set office ours and announce that club sign ups will open up next Monday — as if anyone cared —, hungry for new gossip. Rhys thinks about sneaking out to the garden to take a nap then simply just puts his earphones in and hides his face in his arms, ignoring the world around him. It doesn't help.

By evening, he's rendered to glowering at his computer screen as he tries to comprehend the basics of one of the—supposedly—easiest computer languages. It should be easy, because he knows he has the intelligence to understand what he's supposed to do, to memorize the necessary rules and codes, and yet it is so mind-bogglingly boring that he just can't concentrate enough to etch the thing into memory. If it was only numbers, he wouldn't care. He gets numbers. Maybe not as much as Thommy, but he does. This? This is just plain stupid.

He gives another try to getting the sequence right, but by the time he finishes typing and checks for preview, he is just too tired to feel anything but simmering resignation mixed raged when it turns out he fucked up. Again. So when his phone starts buzzing next to his laptop on the coffee table with an incoming call he's almost relieved to escape the twice-damned misery that's HTML5. Then he sees the caller ID and almost decides that he would have another million round with coding then picking the phone up. Unfortunately, that's not an option.