Half of My Heart ✔️

10 | killing me softly

because I posted twice in two days, you guys have to say ONE NICE THING about the other guy here. if you're #teamlevi, say something nice about Jack. and vice versa for #teamjack :)

♔

"I thought we had an deal," Levi says as I sit down. "I teach you to skate and, in exchange, you never sit next to me ever again."

"So you're telling me you haven't enjoyed the past few weeks of me sitting next to you and stealing your pens?" I say, getting out my notebook. I make a show of looking for a pen in my backpack, to no avail. "And here I thought we were becoming friends."

"In the same way that a parasite is friends with its human host," he says, handing me the pen he was holding. I take it without a word, hiding a smile. There's probably a stack of his 'loaned' pens lost somewhere in my backpack.

"So I'm the parasite in this friendship?" I ask, writing down the announcements written upfront on the whiteboard. "And you're just the poor human host that has to put up with me?"

"I'm glad you're able to come to your own conclusions, Crimson," he says, patting me teasingly on the top of my head. "It's a beautiful thing to watch a child's critical thinking skills begin to develop."

I laugh. "Thank you, I'm trying really hard. I learned to count up to thirty last week. I also finally nailed my ABCs."

He opens his mouth in mock-astonishment. "That's great. Let me test you. Finish the sentence: F is for . . ."

"Fuck you."

"Wow. You really are making fast progress." He pulls another black pen out of his backpack, identical to the one he just gave to me, and starts twirling it habitually.

I smile brightly at him. "I know."

Class starts and Professor Pavil confirms that we've all turned in our individual projects that were due today. After checking in on our progress for our individual research assignments, he goes into an in-depth description of an extra-credit pair project that will be due after Thanksgiving Break. Since my grade is already pretty solid in this class and I don't need extra-credit, I start doodling in my notebook, zoning out.

"You in?" Levi asks after the professor stops speaking, giving us time to discuss the projects with one another. "Also, what the hell did you draw on your paper? Did you have a stroke while taking notes?"

I look down at my drawing, offended. "It's a toilet."

"A toilet."

I laugh at his reaction. "Yes, a toilet. It's not meant to be a Picasso. I'd appreciate it if you removed the judgement from your tone. I think it's pretty good."

"I think," he says slowly, "that you'd better stick to dancing. And your ABCs."

"I appreciate your input, but I will politely disregard it," I say. "So what were you saying before you attacked my artwork?"

"Oh, yeah. Are you down to do the extra credit with me? I think it'd be an easy grade."

I shake my head and begin to draw a turd in the toilet bowl. "Nah. I don't need the grade, and I don't really think I have the time. Besides, I wasn't really listening when he was giving instructions."

"Crimson," he whines dramatically. "It's just a 5-minute short film. Nothing insane, just something about something that you're passionate about."

I snort, drawing flies around the turd. "Passion? What shared passion would we even do it on? I don't think we could make a film about our passion for annoying each other. Or me stealing your pens."