Chapter Text
‘I’, thought Jaein Daawin Song, ‘have got to have the worst luck ever recorded.’ In primary school, she got stuck at the station while her teachers and classmates went off without her on a school trip to her favourite museum. In Year 8, her so-called best friend told her older brother about her crush on the guy next door, inadvertently getting them together and leaving her in the dust. In her GCSE Geography paper, she either was possessed or zoned out hard enough to believe she was doing an English paper, fell asleep at the 10 minute mark, and woke up with 5 minutes left. Traumatic.
This, however. This took the miserable motherfucking cake.
There are only 2 people in their further maths class of 11 that people hoped not to sit next to.
Number 1: Essek Thelyss. The prodigy known by every parent ever from his success in every academic competition ever. The one who’s studying a 5th bloody A level on the side to be ‘more well rounded’ and ‘develop necessary skills’ (Jaein scoffs just thinking about it. As if that's even possible). The top student in every way shape and form, able to run an elective course for the year 12s without a teacher present, and, unsurprisingly, the biggest heartbreaker in the year without even knowing it.
And number 2: Caleb Widogast. The sweet, charming library helper who managed to memorise every textbook for each of his subjects within the first 2 weeks of year 12. The kid who currently tutors half of the lower school while juggling his own 4 a levels, at least 2 jobs outside of school, plus being part of the student leadership team (with Essek mind you). And the only person to make it through all 13 years of schooling without a single offence (even Essek had one, from a fight back in reception. Jaein got a detention for fucking lateness every other week).
Well, there's been a change to the seating plan now that they're in year 13. All randomly generated, their teacher assured them. It's even only for the winter term!
Now guess where she’d been put. Yup, next to them. Again. Right in the middle of them this time, in the back row.
And she managed to catch them in the middle of a lovers spat or relationship pause or something.
Look, the whole school knows they're dating. It's impossible to deny, not when after every single fucking free that they share - which happen to almost always fall during Jaein’s study periods too - their friends (the nine amigos or something equally daft) ask them how their study date went, to which they respond with whatever nerd bullshittery they've managed to come up with, but not until they’ve made the most sickeningly sweet eye contact, and shared a chuckle and an eye roll. Not when all the lower school kids that attend the gay club (officially the “LGBTQ+ society”, but no one actually calls it that) go on and on about how they finish each other's thoughts and sentences, and how they get so caught up in their little world that they forget the original debate question or PowerPoint - this she's had first hand experience of.
Not when the school quite literally use them as evidence of their inclusivity and diversity, putting the gay power couple in the forefront of every single fucking webpage and leaflet - a romantic relationship between a drow and human! Wow! So rare! And at Arundel Sixth Form! The most progressive and tolerant school around for sure.
But noooo, ask them how long they've been together and they'll stumble over their words, giving each other embarrassed little glances like you've uncovered their dirtiest secret, and adamantly declare that “What, no??, We're not dating?! Do we really look like we're together??? What noooo, we're just best friends!!!! What are you talking about?!?!?”
Pshaw, let them do them she supposes.
At least there was some entertainment available. The scene at the front of the class was a familiar one: Mr Dannbarre, who was probably entitled to financial compensation for the emotional damages their class had inflicted on him, was stalking frantically back and forth, looking to be sliding toward a complete nervous breakdown.
"Aenya! I don't care if it's technically a headband or an earwarmer or a walnut , I told you to take your bloody hat off, just take it off !"
"But there isn't a rule that we can't-"
A few moments later another familiar scene: Mr Dannbarre slumped face down to the ground in suffering and melodrama. You really couldn't help but feel bad for him. Not that bad though - Jaein subtly reangled her tablet and snapped another photo of him for her collection.
Despite the admittedly distracting entertainment (after all, it was fifteen minutes into class and they were yet to actually do any maths), Jaein feels more certain of her stupid classmates' frankly overwhelming and unyielding love for each other than ever before.
You see, when she got assigned this seat between them she’d assumed many things. She'd assumed she'd have to start bringing in her iPad or (gods forbid) the textbook, as they'd end up racing a million exercises ahead. She'd assumed her other maths teachers would start frequenting their section of the room more often and she'd therefore actually have to do the homework, lest they see her blank page as they’re marking it. To hell with it! She'd even assume they’d converse over her, acting so dreadfully besotted that she'd magnanimously switch seats with Essek so that he could draw love hearts into the margins of Caleb's work as they discussed the theory of… of… well she didn't know! (She was so, so very tempted to throw her hands up and shout out in exasperation.)
What she didn’t expect was whatever was happening now. Essek would glance to his right, eyes completely skipping over Jaein, and onto Caleb as he works. Peeking at hands tapping a pencil over his work, face lighting up in understanding; before sighing a frankly dramatic sigh (practically a swoon really) and returning to his work. Not even 20 seconds later Caleb would look up and over (read: straight through) her, glancing at Essek typing into his calculator, at Essek scrunching his nose up in confusion; then make some sort of heartbroken noise, stifled in the back of his throat, before returning to his work.
Then, 3 minutes later, the ritual would start again.
‘Gods be damned,’ thought Jaein Song, ‘I’ll need all the forces in Aeor to get me through this term, won't I?’