Sanders Sides One Shots

Can't Study (Analogical)(Fluff)

C.W. N/A

The title is BAD, sorry about that. Feel free to suggest a new one (that's not a joke, if you have any ideas actually tell me).

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Can't Study

Virgil, being the overworked, exhausted secondary student he was, spent a lot of time in the library. He had exams coming up and with his current predicted grades, he needed all of the study time he could get. For some reason or another, Virgil couldn't study at home even if he tried so he had to study in the library.

On this particular day, everything seemed to be going wrong. His maths teacher had called on him to answer a question three times and he didn't know the answer for any of them. A random teacher stopped him in the hall when he was on his way to his free period, refused to believe he didn't have a class and forced him to go to the class he didn't have (he wasted half of the valuable study time hiding in the toilets). And to top it all off, he got results back for two tests, both of which he failed.

On his way up to the library, his steps were heavier than usual. He had to study as much as he could but with the day he had just had? He wasn't exactly feeling motivated.

He waved at the librarian as he walked by, as he always did. She was the kindest person Virgil knew and was like a mother figure to him, despite the fact that they hardly ever talked. She seemed to notice Virgil's disgruntled mood, though.

"Virgil, are you okay?" her tone was hushed, as it should be in a library. Even so, that seemed to be how she naturally talked, not that Virgil had ever talked to her outside of school.

"Yeah, bad day is all. I'm fine, though." Virgil just wanted to get his head down and work, so he hurried off to one of the back corners of the library.

He was ready. His laptop was open in front of him with a new document for him to write notes in, all of his textbooks were out for every subject he had, he even had his study playlist playing softly through his headphones. But he couldn't do anything.

He begrudgingly slid his history textbook out from the pile and flicked to the section on World War 2. He started reading the introductory paragraph but he already knew the information. Before he could get frustrated, he got his failed exam paper practice out from earlier in the day. The teacher's notes were mostly about structuring the questions and accuracy of the information.

With his bottom lip in between his teeth and his head heavily laying in his palm, he used his free hand to flick through the textbook. He watched the number flying by, some dates, some statistics. He barely took any of them in.

Eventually, he gave up and buried his head in his arms on the table. The only thing on his mind was the failed percentages from the tests, the disapproving look on his maths teacher's face and the piano music serving as a reminder for what he was supposed to be doing.

Logan was having a good day. His biology teacher had held him back after class to praise him and ask if he would tutor some of the students who weren't doing as well (he declined, though, to focus on his own studies). His english teacher had him read a chapter of the book they were studying to the class, something he secretly loved doing. He'd also found out he had been elected for head boy next year.

As he walked into the library, he waved at the librarian and offered her a small smile. He planned on studying for a science test he had in a few days but, at the table where he usually sat, was a boy who seemed to be in a state of distress. He had his head buried in his arms and was surrounded by textbooks. He vaguely recognised the boy from his own year as he got closer to the table, eventually standing opposite him.