Winston hurries through the hallway, forcing his way through a whole throng of people. There's a lot of elbows involved, but Winston's are very pointy and serve him well—it's the accumulation of all that practice in high school, he thinks. It was ridiculously crowded.

The crowd thins somewhat as he closes in on the dank corner where his locker is. He scurries forward, ducking under somebody reaching high for a locker, and around the last corner. There, he spots Gareth leaning against his locker and grins, smoothly spinning out of Jason Hill's way, tossing a quick "Sorry," behind him.

It's not even until he reaches Gary that he realizes; "I almost ran right into Jason Hill," he wheezes, collapsing against a locker with his forehead first, almost losing his grip on his key in the process. The books are so heavy they almost tilt right out of his arms, too, and he inhales sharply when he gets a good grip on them again.

Beside him, Gary freezes. "Seriously? Dude." His thick, red eyebrows scrunch together and he looks Winston over from top to bottom. Whistling, he says, "You would have been so dead."

"I know, right?" Winston wheezes again, standing up straight and exchanging his books with those in his locker for the later afternoon's classes. Despite the fact that the locker is so tiny it can really only hold three large—and the textbooks are large—books at the same time, he's grateful that he doesn't need to carry all his books everywhere. They're heavy and cumbersome and his shoulders ache from carrying the weight around.

It's possible he should go to the gym sometime.

Maybe.

Shrugging that thought off, Winston and Gary head out, following the throng of people through the long, slithering hallways. They're sharing the next class; a mandatory general class everybody has to take at some point, and so they celebrated wildly with a two liter bottle of sparkling soda when they both got in at the same time. What a time!

And what a horrible following morning.

Winston shudders at the memories of that horrible, horrible morning, stomach clenching on nothing. Gary's tall beside him, nothing less than perfection as the crowd starts thinning, people veering off for other classrooms. The science lab they're going to is on the second floor, but at that point there's few enough people that heading upward on stairs is not a deadly endeavor.

As they step onto the last hallway, Winston glances behind them, only for his breath to freeze in his chest. His body freezes, too, and it's not until Gary is tugging on his sleeve that Winston starts walking again. "What's wrong?" Gary asks.

"Jason Hill," hisses Winston. He doesn't look behind again; a momental visage of strength that is not to be replicated for a good decade, probably. "He's coming," he adds, because Gary doesn't appear to be taking this seriously.

Gary looks backwards, the turn of his head so obvious Winston cries inside. "Oh, there he is," comments Gary gracelessly. Then he's grinning at Winston, "What's the matter? Don't you like him?" and he wriggles his eyebrows in exaggerated motions, as one might see animated characters do on TV.

Winston slaps his shoulder, "Don't be a dick," he says, smiling to the short-haired professor as they squeeze through the narrow door and hurry up the steps to their designated seats, almost bumbling right into another student. "I almost ran into the dude like five minutes ago," Winston hisses under his breath, staring Gary around a stray bag on the floor. Then he adds, "And he has no idea who I am, so it doesn't matter much if I like him, does it?"

"Pessimist," coughs Gary, the attempt at subterfuge pathetically bad. Winston rolls his eyes, but Gary's mischievous smile is too much for him to resist and he ends up giggling under his breath. Gary's resulting beaming smile is a weapon of mass destruction, surely just as evil and deadly as an asteroid hurtling through space.

They get settled into their seats, sharing a table, and proceeds to turn their bags inside out to get all the utterly necessary equipment. One can't very well go to a class without five different markers, at least two pencil sharpeners, three erasers, and fifteen ballpoint pens and pencils. Seriously. It's basically blasphemy.

Winston's eyes drift over Jason as the professor calls the class into order. Winston loses a bit of time there. Jason Hill—jock extraordinaire—is so handsome it's ridiculous. He's got curly, blond hair and tanned skin, a smile so pretty it's stopped Winston's heart on multiple occasions, and eyes the color of a shiny summer sky. They glitter in the pictures Jason posts online, and Winston has never before seen eyes like that in real life.

Jason scratches at the back of his head, messing up the blond curls, and Winston tears his gaze away, focusing on the old professor who's croaking out something about the anatomy of a bird. Ducking his head at Gary's commiserating look, Winston picks up a pen and goes to town.

Two hours later, he's effectively murdered his notebook.

"This makes no sense," Winston says, turning the notebook around in his hands like it'll magically fix itself if he just looks at it from another angle. Gary leans forward and studies it thoroughly, a most professional examination conducted by a total expert.

"Dude, I think you might have been possessed by a demon," says Gary.

"Thanks. That's—helpful," murmurs Winston. After one more spin in the air, he's forced to put the book in his bag lest he be locked inside the classroom. Winnie and Gary hurry down the steps, running past a weary old professor who coughs pointedly at them, and huddles in the hallway's corner as a whole slew of students run past. Among them is Jason, surrounded by his pals from the basketball team.

Winston loses his breath as the man runs by him, so close if he reached out they'd touch. And—it almost seemed like Jason looked at him?

"He's so hot," says Gary over Winston's shoulder—at Winston's startled breath, Gary spins out of his reach and grins at him. "That's what you were thinking, right?"

"I—" Winston starts, pushing off the wall. The throng of people has lessened, to the point where they can walk down the hallways without getting elbows in places where elbows just should not be. Winston admits defeat by the time they reach the stairs. "Yeah, Jason's—ridiculously hot."

Gary fist pumps. "Knew it!"

"Oh, I would not be celebrating if I was you," warns Winston, lowering his voice. Gary plays along, gulping and stepping fearfully away from him. Winston puts on his most vicious grin, accentuated by dead fish eyes, and swears, "I am going to tell Liam that you love him."

Gary gasps. "You wouldn't."

"Oh... I would."

"But... he'll hate me!" Gary holds a hand over his mouth, staring at him with wide eyes. Winston manages to hold it in for approximately four point six seconds, then bursts into laughter. Gary's joyful giggling joins him instantly, Winston is forced to hold onto the handrail so he doesn't trip down the steep stairs, a few annoyed students steering clear of them even though it means they have to step on the tiny part of the stairway.

Finally, Winston and Gary manages to get themselves under control and successfully head to the library, ready to settle in for another evening of mind-numbing studying.