Swooped | ✓

Chapter 1: Lovely Weather for Ducks

"Dude, I'm bored," I groaned, flopping face first onto my plush couch. Turning my head to look at my phone screen, I saw that Milo was shaking his head, busily typing on his computer. "You're ignoring me. Rude."

Milo just snorted at my words, not bothering to look at his phone, which I suspected he had propped up against a stack of books while he worked. 

"Well, unlike someone, I actually have assignments due," Milo replied, brow furrowing as he flicked through some papers on his desk. Like always, he had an angry-looking frown etched into his features, which most people would think of as handsome if he didn't look like he wanted to murder them all the time. Dark almond-shaped eyes, dark hair cut short and shaved at the sides, angular nose, strong jaw. If it wasn't for his thick eyebrows pointing downwards in a permanent glare or the forever-present disinterested scowl on his lips, people would describe him as 'handsome' rather than 'terrifying'.

"Okay, Mr. Double-Degree," I huffed, leaning my head on my forearm as Milo worked. "And who are we kidding. You're a weird genius wonder-kid, you don't even need to be studying to be top of your class. Basically a younger, less good-looking Tony Stark." Milo finally tore his eyes from the mass of papers on his desk to give me an exasperated look, which I responded to with a lazy grin.

"The content and the tests aren't the problem. It's these stupid assignments, Culver. Even if I know everything in my head, I need to have the references. I can recite our whole textbook, but apparently I still need to find 15 different, credible sources to include in the paper. Oh, and they can't be written more than five years ago. Five years, man. The guy that wrote all our textbooks died more than five years ago." 

Milo ended his monotonous monologue with a click of his tongue, before loosing a tight breath, rolling his eyes. His native German accent sometimes filtered through when he got particularly worked up, and I grinned at the way his tongue spoke his R's. He had been living here since primary school, so most of the accent had ebbed away, but sometimes it would slip in. He often got embarrassed when it did, but I thought it was endearing. 

I let my best-friend gather himself for a moment, very used to his slightly grumpy nature and tendency to rant in a strangely flat and emotionless yet forceful tone. 

When we met in year 7, almost 8 years ago, Milo had been very much the same; glaring at everyone, snapping whenever someone said something to him, and giving people who were less intelligent than him (meaning everyone) a condescending click of his tongue and eye roll every time they spoke. Everyone was scared of the guy and decided it was best to just avoid him. Well, everyone with a sense of self preservation, at least.

In other words, everyone but me.

No one who knew me was actually surprised when they found me chatting to that new kid with the death-stare at school; Culver Fleet, class A birdbrain, winner of the world title of laziness, professional procrastinator, king of non-commitment, advocate for the death of perseverance and casual parkour enthusiast. That was me, and my friends at the time had definitely warned that I would get punched if I pestered the new kid.

I preferred the term 'befriend' rather than 'pester', though.

I didn't end up getting punched by Milo though. Adamantly ignored? Yes. Glared at when I sat with him at lunch? Yes. Cursed at when I forced him to partner with me in science class? Most definitely.

But eventually, Milo had stopped giving me the stink eye when I approached him. He had stopped cursing at me when I sequestered him at lunch, instead saving me a seat next to him at the lunch table every day. When we needed partners in class we didn't have to say anything, knowing that we would be partnering up.