Not Even Friends
I did the thing why did i do the thing. I wrote a short nank fic??? its more of a beginning to a fic that i dont know i’ll keep writing??? (((although i probably will bc im a loser))) urgh (◡﹏◡✿)
unrequited love ((to an extent dnt worry i wont make u sad i think)) and idek what else to say about it i just needed to get this off my chest byE Nat belongs to Acid and Plank to Asphy
“Hey, it’s me. Can you come pick me up?” Nathaniel Goldberg lays his head back on the lumpy cushions of his dorm room’s tiny futon, craning his neck so that he can count, for the hundredth millionth time, the bumps on the concrete ceiling above him.
“Is this a booty call?” he responds with mocking suspicion into the receiver of his cheap cell phone, mentally cataloging only the brown spots this time, ‘24…25…26…’
“I got in a little trouble,” a gruff voice says back to him, crackling with static.
“Trouble?” Nat’s alert now, his back straightening so that he’s sitting up, the ceiling forgotten.
“Got mugged.”
“Shit,” he says, standing up to cross the room and pull on his jacket, “what’d they take?”
“Not much,” the man on the other line says calmly before his voice falters, “although, well, they did pull a knife on me.”
“What?!” Nat yells into the phone, startling himself and almost dropping it.
“It’s not bad, just on my shoulder. Just a flesh wound, really. I’m fine, but I do need a ride to the hospital,” the voice sighs.
“Jesus fucking- call the fucking police!” Nat nearly shouts with exasperation. Part of him just wants to call 911 and be done with it, but the rest of him, his conscious, most likely, already has him sprinting out of the brick building he’s been calling home for the past two years and through the parking lot to his car.
“Where are you?”
“Couple blocks from my work.”
“Damn it Plank, you need to quit that place. This is the third time something like this has happened! That neighborhood is too-“
“Just get down here,” Plank says curtly, cutting Nat off. Then the line goes dead.
“Shit,” is all the green haired boy can say as he throws the phone into the passenger’s seat and starts up the engine.
It takes him approximately fifteen minutes to maneuver his way down familiar side streets to the ‘bad’ side of town where his roommate works. The further he goes, the higher the number of thugs he sees standing out on the corners, eyeing him as he zips by. He’s use to this by now, but the first time he’d come across this place he’d thought he’d landed on a whole new planet. It just goes to show how really sheltered he grew up, what with his nice, rich (however detached they might’ve been) parents and hired bodyguards and all. Its not like gang territory was unheard of to him, this place was just exceptionally terrible. And exceptionally dangerous, as Plank had so graciously proved only a few minutes before.
He pulls up in front of a small tattoo parlor and parks his car swiftly before hurrying in through the front door. His arrival is signaled by the jingle of a bell which makes a tall, Russian boy with asymmetrically cut blonde hair look up from a chair behind the counter. An older man is leaning over him, tending to a large gash on his upper right arm.
“Jesus…” is all Nat says when he sees the wound, his eyes darting between it and its owner, who looks down at it too with a slightly interested face.
“It’s fine, Max has been taking care of it,” he nods at the man, “just needs a few stitches now.”
“Why didn’t you go straight to the hospital?” Nat asks, his voice pleading. Plank just looks at him, expressionless and unblinking. “Fine,” he says after a few moments, “get in the car, I’ll take you.” The blonde bows his head slightly in thanks and then silently walks out after him.
On the car ride to the hospital, Nat can’t keep his eyes to himself. They keep returning to the cut, and he can feel anger and frustration at the whole situation building until he has to speak.
“Why do you insist on working there?” He gets no response, although that is to be expected. “I mean, Jesus. I know you like Max, but its dangerous. You’re good enough to get a job somewhere closer, so why don’t you? This is the third time I’ve had to come and get you for something like this. The third time.” He looks over expectantly, but Plank only shrugs. “C’mon man, you can’t keep doing this,” he says, his voice pitched higher then he’d meant it to be, betraying just how frantic he feels. It’s out of character for Nat to be this high strung, he knows that, and maybe if this were anyone else he’d be more composed but, well, it’s complicated.
They pull into the hospital too soon for him to get any answers and Plank is whisked away from Nat quickly and quietly. He sits in the waiting room, listlessly flipping through outdated magazines for a few hours despite the nurse’s dismissing attitude, using the fact that he’s Plank’s ride as an excuse to stick around. It’s only a few stitches, so Nat knows it’s not like they’re keeping the guy over night, and he really is the only way his roommate would be able to get home, which makes it seem like a valid enough point on its own. Truth be told though, he’s mostly just there to sooth his own frayed nerves. He needs to see Plank walk out in one piece before he can get any sleep, so he stays and bides his time, watching the windows darken. Eventually, and after much paperwork, both boys are sent home from the hospital. The car ride back is tense, to say to the least. Not even Nat, who’s famous for his ability to crack awful jokes at awful times, can say a thing. Plank doesn’t try to initiate a conversation either, which is partially just who he is and partially probably due to the fact that he doesn’t want to deal with his roommate’s nagging at the moment. This last thought makes Nat fiddle in his seat, self-conscious and afraid of being annoying. That last thing he wants is to annoy Plank. When they finally do get back to their dorm building, the Russian says a quick goodnight and climbs into bed without a backwards glance. Crestfallen, Nat mirrors the gesture, but spends a good chunk of time laying awake and looking over across the gap in the room to the broad expanse of back turned to him and wishing slightly that he could see Plank’s face.
Lets make one thing clear: Plank and Nat aren’t, per say, friends. They never have been either, despite the fact that they’ve been bunking since the beginning of freshman year. Nope, they hang out with different people and are interested in different things, so without the shared room these two most definitely never would’ve talked at all. But, as it so happens, Nat is grateful that they ended up roommates. He’s glad to have met Plank. The guy’s scary at first, sure, what with his tall, muscular silhouette, stoic demeanor, and many piercing, but Nat knows there’s more to him than just that. He’s sweet on the inside, and it shows in the way he takes care of his old employer Max, or the way he feeds the stray cats in the alley when he thinks no ones looking. Every once in a while he’ll even smile, the sides of his soft mouth flicking up ever so slightly and his eyes crinkling just a bit. Every time this happens, without fail, Nat feels his heart beat speed up like he’s running a marathon and his cheeks burn hot. It’s a conditioned response he wishes he could stop, but something about the blonde boy makes it hard for him to control his body. And his mind, if he’s being honest. His roommate’s somewhat unconventional handsomeness isn’t lost on Nat, and he’s no stranger to wonton dreaming. That’s as far as he’ll let it go though – rueful admiration and involuntary heated dreams are the extent of what he allows himself. Anything more would be foolish and just end up hurting.
That night after the hospital visit, Nat lays in bed and presses a hand to his chest to try to steady himself. He hates it when Plank scares him like this, but he has no right to object to the other boy’s behavior more than he already has. Saying anything else would be risking their already tentative relationship, and he can’t have that. They’re not even friends, after all. No matter how much it hurts, how confusing it’s become, he has to keep reminding himself of that fact: they’re not even friends.
The next few weeks go by in a blur – first semester ends, Christmas comes and goes, and Nat gets laid off from his part time job. Great. The only good thing, if that’s what you would call it, that happens is Nat and Plank are placed in one of the same classes for second semester. The first day he’d been too unguarded and had ended up sitting far away from the other boy, but today he makes sure to sit only one row behind and a few seats to the left, leaving enough room for it to seem unintentional. He feels like a stalker-y high school girl, but whatever, if it means getting a whole hundred minutes to look at Plank cutely scribbling in his notebook he can deal with the private humiliation.
“Hey dude,” a voice to his right says loudly as a boy with red hair and a red cap turned backwards plops down into the seat besides him, breaking his concentration on his roommate. It’s his long time best friend Kevin, whom he’d met in high school. Somewhat unexpectedly, they’d ended up at the same college, although to be specific, Kevin had fought his way to admission while Nat had more or less breezed in. Either way though, Nat was definitely glad that it had worked out since it’s always nice having your best friend in close proximity.
“Seat change?” Kevin asks, the extent of his uncaring evident in the way he looks down at his phone without waiting for an answer.
“Wanted to be closer to the front, the teacher’s hot~” Nat jokes.
“Uh huh,” Kevin responds, but doesn’t look up. Nat watches him smile at a text message and thinks about maybe unloading all his troubles on his best friend, whom he knows wouldn’t judge him and would probably actually have some great jock-ish advice, but doesn’t. Kev’s got a whole bunch of his own problems, all of which can be attributed to the person texting him at the moment, i.e. a skinny, sock headed dork named Edd who went to high school with them but knew Kevin for much longer and is now halfway across the country at Stanford. The distance has been rough on the redhead, especially since he’d only managed to snag the kid a few weeks before his departure.
“How’s double dork?” Nat asks with a smirk.
“Good,” Kevin replies, beaming, “he’s gonna come visit soon I think. His break was longer than ours so he’s still got some time off.”
“That’s awesome man. We should get him drunk, I always meant to do that back in Peachcreek but never got around to it,” Nat says slyly. He really is happy for his friend, Kevin and Edd’s sappy love story was a long time coming.
“Yeah maybe,” Kevin responds absentmindedly as he begins tapping at his phone again. “What about you?” he says suddenly, looking up with his finger still hovering above the screen.
“What about me what?” Nat says, confused.
“Seen anyone interesting?”
It takes a few seconds for the teal haired boy to gather his thoughts before responding, “only you, sugartits,” in what he hopes seems a nonchalant way.
“Gross,” Kevin says, and leaves it at that. The class is slow and monotonous, and Nat finds himself sliding his vision over towards Plank more often than he thought he would, but no one seems to notice so he deems it a safe enough gamble. The taller boy is hunched down with one elbow on the table in front of him, his hand holding his head up just enough to look semi-alert. The other hand is doodling intricate designs in his notebook, no doubt tattoo mockups. Nat lets out a long groan, slumps back in his chair, and drags his fingers through his hair, mussing it.
“Whoa, what’s up?” Kevin asks, alarmed by the usual prince of pristine hair’s careless action.
“Just, like, do you ever get confused because someone’s so hot and diligent and pretty nice although maybe not to you and mostly just hot but like you can’t do anything about it?” The other boy babbles.
“Um, no…uh, what,” Kevin responds intelligently. He swivels to get a better look at his friend, leaning his face closer to Nat’s, who responds by quickly smacking his concerned friend’s forehead with the palm of his hand. “Ow dude! What the hell!” Kevin cries out, rubbing the red spot left over.
“Fast!” Nat whispers, moving his arm around in a slithering motion, “like a snake!” he strikes it out in front of him, imitating a snake attack, and successfully knocks down all the books on his desk.
“…You’re an idiot,” Kevin laughs, forgetting about the outburst he’d been worrying about only moments before. ‘Good,’ thought Nat, he didn’t need to be worrying anyone with his make-believe issues right now.
The rest of the class time crawls by without excitement, and by the end of it nearly everyone is rushing to get to the front door.
“I’ve gotta go, I need to cram for a test in an hour. I’ll talk to you later,” Kevin says with a final wave, jogging out of the classroom with his backpack slung carelessly over his shoulder. Nat doesn’t bother to respond and just waves at his friend’s retreating form before gathering his things and shoving them into his bag. He takes one final look at his desk before meandering his way to the door with the few stragglers left behind. Next up for him is a general physics class that he’s not too worried about and doesn’t feel like he needs to hurry off to. Being a few minutes late probably won’t hurt, seeing as he pretty much knows all he’ll need to know for that course already.
“Hello Nathaniel,” a voice behind him says, surprising him into making a small ‘eek!’ sound. He turns and is confronted by the towering form of his roommate. Desperately, he hopes he didn’t hear that very unmanly cry he’d just made, but the upturn on the corners of Plank’s lips indicate that he probably did.
“H- hey! What’s up?” Nat says, trying to keep his voice even despite the predictable hammering of his heart and increasingly warming cheeks. He looks away, embarrassed, thinking to himself, ‘get a grip’.
“Did you enjoy the class?” Plank says, his eyes boring down into the shorter boy.
“Um, yeah it was okay. How’s your shoulder?” Nat responds, sounding unsure. Plank just nods absentmindedly, silently admitting in his own way that he’s healed. Nat realizes that they’re still just standing in a now nearly empty classroom and indicates that they should walk out with a jerk of his thumb, “where you going?”
“Art wing.”
“Oh that’s cool, I’m going to the science building.”
“Opposite directions,” Plank frowns, his eyebrows furrowing in thought.
“Um, yeah,” Nat says in a bewildered tone, utterly confused by this interaction. It’s the first time the blonde boy’s ever tried to reach out to him outside of their minimal dorm interactions. He shifts nervously, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket and looking at the floor. They walk down the hallway together, their shoulders brushing ever so often due to the jostling from the people around them. “Sorry,” Nat apologizes as he gets pushed into his companion’s side by a large hoard of girls marching past, nearly tripping on his own feet and topping over.
“Careful, котенок,” Plank says, his rich voice and the foreign nickname almost distracting Nat from the fact that the taller boy now has his hand on the back of Nat’s neck, trying to steady him. Almost. When he draws his hand away, the teal haired boy’s skin feels like it’s on fire where they’d touched. “I am going this way,” Plank says abruptly, stopping and pointing down the hall.
“Oh, I’m uh, I’m going that way,” Nat manages to squeak out, trying not to make eye contact with the other student. They stand there for a short moment that feels like hours before Plank promptly turns on his heels and walks off in the direction of the art department.
“Um, see you!” Nat calls out after him, realizing with a twinge of regret that he’d just lost his chance to make a good goodbye impression. He’s rewarded with a raised hand, and, upon seeing that, runs out of the building. Once outside, he gulps in large lungfuls of cold air and props himself up against the railing of the staircase. ‘Jesus Christ, that did not just happen,’ he thinks, ‘I can’t believe that just happened. I should not be this worked up about it oh my god.’ He scolds himself mentally and dares to look over his shoulder once before craning his neck to look up at the gray, clouded sky. ‘Doesn’t change a thing,’ he thinks furiously, trying to deny the happy feelings starting to flutter about inside his stomach, ‘we’re still not even friends.’ He says this, but secretly knows that their interaction did, at least, change him. It gave him hope.
