When Hands Touch

2. helping hand

CHAPTER TWO

HELPING HAND

—

Milo was going to cry.

He stared at the giant forty-one circled in red, eyes involuntarily beginning to water. Fuck. At this rate, I'm not even going to be able to go to college. What if I don't graduate? That'll suck. Big time. This is why I should've taken regular English, not fucking AP. Shoving the paper in his bag, he let out a soft exhale, trying to reassure himself. It's okay, it's okay. One revision test doesn't mean shit.

That's what he always tried to tell himself. But he knew that it wasn't just one test, it was quite literally all his tests. Which put a damper on the whole going to college plan.

"You look like shit, what's up?"

Milo gave Jude his driest look, before shrugging. "Bombed a test. English. How does one even manage to fuck up English? And it wasn't even on any new material, it was just a recap test thing before we started the new topics." He shook his head, dark hair flopping in front of his face. "Thank fuck it was just a revision test, so it doesn't count in my grade."

Jude's teasing expression morphed into one of sympathy, and he nodded in understanding. "I'd help, but I literally suck at teaching. We know what happened the last time I tried to teach you something."

Milo definitely knew what happened the last time Jude tried to teach him something.

When they were in their Sophomore year, Jude had been trying to explain something about framing essays, and Milo had found himself getting distracted, as usual. So, to bring him back to reality, Jude reached over to poke Milo on the nose with a pencil.

He'd ended up impaling him in the eye instead.

The rest of the day had gone by with Milo involuntarily crying, bright red eye streaming tears down his face, and Jude flicking water in his eye to stop it from burning.

That was the first and last time Jude tried to teach him anything.

Milo laughed, the memories of his test already being pushed to the back of his mind. He knew that he'd get called out in English later in the day, but for now, he tried his best not to give a shit.

Soon, Evangeline joined them, a small skip in her step as she walked over. "Y'all, I discovered this sick artist last night, and they're so fucking great. Classical music slaps."

"I see that, and I raise you this— classical and rock fusion," Milo interjected, causing Evangeline to grin in response. She turned to say something to Jude, and Milo found his eyes wandering, scanning the hallways which were starting to fill up with more and more people.

All of a sudden, he met Xen's gaze, eyes piercing into Milo's fucking skull. Beside him, there were two other people whom he'd only briefly seen in some of his classes.

One of them was wearing what he understood to be a hijab— though Milo wasn't entirely sure of the terminology of all the headwear— with fucking flawless skin. I wish I had skin like that. She— Milo had heard people refer to her with those pronouns before— was talking animatedly, as Xen was listening with an easy smile on his face.

Milo quickly made a mental note to google the names of the headwear later. He didn't want to be misinformed.

The other was someone who looked slightly less familiar to Milo. He was vaguely sure he'd heard some sick rumours floating around about them, but then again, sometimes, rumours were just rumours, and nothing more.