While everyone else was going to parties and living it up for their spring break, Dionysius Hawthorne was at home working on a school project he couldn’t understand.
“Who even cares about the war of 2950?” He groaned, slumping onto the couch as he gave up. “It’s just some turf war, and as usual, 5555 wins. What’s the big deal?”
Sophomore year so far had already been a disaster for Dionysius. His grades were getting worse and worse, and nothing seemed to be working. And when his teacher gave the class a project to be finished by the end of the break, everyone had finished it early except for him. Now he was stuck in his apartment, working on a stupid essay on a stupid war for a stupid project.
“Harley,” He groaned. “How the hell did you manage to do this?”
His best friend smiled that mischievous grin that Dionysius had memorized at that point. They had met 2 years ago, when Dionysius was 13 and Harley was 15. Ever since that day, they’ve done everything together. He knew everything about Harley, like how he stopped cutting his hair since last summer, giving him messy brown hair that hung to the top of his neck, and how he was completely covered in freckles. Like how he had a tic in his eye that would make him wink every now and then, and how he had never seen him without a chain necklace on.
Harley spoke. “Like hell I remember. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t get a good grade when I got it back.”
“So helpful,” Dionysius muttered. “Glad to have you as my tutor.”
“Believe me, Dio, the feeling is mutual.”
They looked at each other in silence before bursting into laughter. Dionysius couldn’t help but notice how he had always snorted when he laughed. It was something he was often self-conscious about. But Harley never judged him for it, so he let himself laugh.
-
A few hours later, Dionysius felt tired enough to fall asleep right then and there. He leaned his head on Harley’s shoulder, seconds away from passing out. Harley smiled lightly, and for a moment, there was a beautiful silence in the apartment.
Then there was a pounding on the door.
Dionysius bolted awake, yelping in surprise. “Who’s there?“ He called.
“It’s Millie!” The voice responded. “Open up! It’s urgent!”
Not even a moment later, Harley was already opening the door to reveal Millie, Harley’s fiancée. She had medium length black hair and pale blue eyes, and she was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. She took both of their hands and ran out of the apartment and toward the town square.
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