Dawson is- most people who don't know him would say- as straight as they come. And senior year away from home promises to be a big year for him: no parents in sight, a whole new set of friends, he just seems to have it all. Not to mention that all t...
sorry it took forever to get this out! but the time has finally come xx unedited per usual
dedicated to @upsidedowhn and @enoument ! thank you for all the comment spams, you guys are the best <3
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YIKES.
It's been thirty minutes since Dawson's safety has been threatened by Hamilton's rabid persona and he still hasn't recovered. He can still feel Adam's fingertips pressing on his skin hard enough to hurt. Every five minutes, Dawson glances at his wrist to make sure there are no bruises marking it.
One thing's for sure, though: Hamilton seriously needs to take a chill pill.
"What's your problem?" is what Dawson replied, with his voice shaking in disquiet, as he tried to pass it off as annoyance. Thankfully, that was enough for Hamilton to let go of his wrist, turning his back on him again.
This time, for good.
And that's when Dawson could finally breathe normally again; his cheeks turned back to their natural complexion; his palms soon weren't sweaty anymore; his heartbeat steadied itself.
Now, as he's distractedly alphabetizing books, while pretending to be unaffected by their heated conversation, he can't stop thinking about Adam's neck tattoo. And he's trying really hard not to let it slip his mind, repeating it obsessively in hopes of learning it by heart.
CAPTIVUS EX REGE FACTUM CAPTIVUS EX REGE FACTUM CAPTIVUS EX REGE FACTUM
As a matter of fact, he's so absorbed in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice Adam has already left and that the first day of detention is over.
He drags his feet back to the dorm, pouting like a kid who lost at a playground game. Luckily, he doesn't have to pretend to be in a good mood— not that he'd be expected to anyway— because Milo is already fast asleep on his bed.
Despite the early morning training, the long six hours of classes and his 90-minute shared detention, Dawson doesn't feel tired enough to hit the sack yet. And that's why he decides to write a few lines of his essay for Mr. Thornbury. He hastily grabs his laptop trying to be as quiet as possible and starts typing in the complete darkness of his room. His eyes burn from the light of the screen, or maybe he's just exhausted.
Either way, the essay isn't going to write itself and he has the feeling it might take more than a mediocre essay to top Adam fucking Hamilton in Honors English II.
He baptizes it with the name American Fallacy and feels instantly delighted by how good it sounds.
The drawback of adrenaline starts kicking in before he's through the first page. His eyelids are fluttering closed and he can feel himself losing focus. He shuts his laptop closed and heads towards his bed, already savoring the softness and comfort of the mattress.
