He shuffled his papers again, lining them up neatly. They had to be neat. They had to be neat, because if they weren’t neat, he had to shuffle them up and line them up neatly again. No, not right still. Nigel spent a good ten minutes reordering his papers, until someone’s hands closed over his and made him jump slightly. The dark-haired boy looked up through the long fringe he wore across his face at the boy he usually sat next to, well, when Troy Barton bothered to show up for any classes that is. Something in Nigel’s chest squeezed really hard, he felt his cheeks colour, and he looked back down at his papers. Ah no, messy again. That wouldn’t do, but Troy’s hands were covering his, what to do, what to do?
“If you mess with those papers one more time I’m going to take ‘em and throw ‘em in the nearest recycle receptacle,” Troy drawled in an exasperated voice.
“S-sorry...” Nigel mumbled in reply.
When NIgel stole another look at Troy, the other boy was smiling at him in that way that made girls say nasty things at Nigel, for hogging the good-looking Troy all to himself. They were friends, though? At least, that’s what Troy insisted they were every time they had lunch together, or hung out together, or did homework together. Well, when Nigel did homework, Troy on the other hand always sat and watched him with a little smile on his face, but when Nigel asked him “what?” the reply would always be a “nothing”. Kinda weird, but… Not awful?
“Nothing to be sorry fer, it’s just… You need to relax, I keep telling you that right?”
It was true. Troy always told him to relax, to stop worrying, but Nigel couldn’t change the nervous energies he experienced from time to time. His mom and dad called it a phase that he should start growing out of, like the long hair, but so far there was only an increase in rituals and not the opposite. Simple things at first, that got bigger and bigger and more elaborate the closer he was to his demons, but when Troy stepped in, threw his arm across Nigel’s shoulders and jokingly told him weird stories about the cadets, Nigel forgot his rituals, forgot his demons, and forgot to reshuffle his papers dozens of times.
Troy was amazing like that. Troy with the devil-may-care attitude, Troy who made any bad situation just go away. Nigel didn’t think it was strange people wanted to get to know his best friend, but at the same time Troy’s aloof attitude towards everyone else welcomed very little communication. Nigel was shocked himself when Troy—out of the blue—asked to borrow a pen one day, even though Nigel had never seen him write any notes down in class ever. Everyone was shook by that, which was when the nasty comments started up about him, but it was also the first moment of contact between them, and Nigel couldn’t believe the boy he had a crush on spoke to him so casually. With a smile!
Thick as thieves since then, even though Nigel never, ever, EVER, brought up how Troy made him really feel. Maybe… One day… He looked through his fringe at the warm hazel eyes that looked back at him and made something inside of him turn to jelly. Troy was such a looker… And when he smiled he had dimples! And he was already bigger than most other boys in their grade, going through an early growth spurt, plus all the physical training he did, hoping to get into the FCON cadets.
No, no, nononono. It was impossible. How could he ever tell Troy that he liked him? That was stupid. He was being dumb. Troy would laugh at him, call him something unpleasant, then end their friendship right there. If that happened, Nigel didn’t know who would chase away the demons. They were everywhere these days. Except, except around Troy, there was enough light shining that the demons couldn’t live around him for very long.
Nigel stood meekly by his desk while Troy packed away his things like he was his mom, which usually meant he wanted them to be someplace else ASAP. Would Troy freak out? Would he push him away? He wasn’t that kind of person, right? Nigel pinched at his other arm, the little sharp pains snapping his dissenting thoughts into the background.
“Hey, stop that,” Troy chastised, putting his hand over the other boy’s to stop him from hurting himself. “Lunch on me today, ‘kay? The barbecue stands are out in the Grease Slums, we can pick something up on the way back.”
“Mom says that sorta stuff’s poison for your body,” Nigel protested weakly.
Troy took Nigel’s sweaty hand in his own, linking their fingers together so Nigel had no escape, not that the quieter mousy boy complained. He was ridiculously happy, and equally grateful for the fact his parents hadn’t forced him to cut his hair yet, because it did a passable job at hiding his blush, except for the crimson tips of his ears that stuck out of the soft black mop. That was another thing Troy never commented on, the fact that his hands were always cold and clammy, but despite that Troy never failed to grab him by the hand and tug him in a direction he fancied.
“Your mom’s also an anti-vaxxer,” Troy pointed out meaningfully.
Troy didn’t like his parents. That much was clear whenever Nigel said anything about them Troy would snort or say “that’s dumb”, but then again, the feeling was mutual. Nigel’s mother warned him about getting too close to “that Barton boy”. She didn’t like him, which meant Nigel liked Troy even more. An insignificantly infinitesimal rebellion, but it made him happy, even if he was the only one who knew about it.
Stumbling after his friend, Nigel looked up at the back of Troy’s head, the choppy mess of his thick brown hair, and wondered briefly what things could be like between them if he knew about his feelings. Troy looked back over his shoulder, caught him staring and smiled at him until his dimples showed, and Nigel assaulted by the radiant sunshine that was Troy’s smile, tore his gaze away and willed his heartbeat to calm itself. Just think of the barbecue, barbecue, barbecue… Nigel, really, really liked barbecue.
