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actionreactionHere's the second installment of Pembroke Academy.
Detention
Torrance lay on one of the bleachers, legs sprawled down onto the bench below. A satisfied smirk played on his lips, eyes closed as the sun beat down on his face. Today had gone well. In his opinion anyway. Wyatt looked far less amused. Like now, as he came storming across the field, intriguingly unaccompanied by his lackeys. The blond flung his backpack onto the bench a mere few inches from Torrance's face. Rare display of uncontrolled anger. Mm. Another point for Torrance.
"What the hell was that display in the cafeteria about, Storm?" Wyatt demanded without preamble.
Torrance let his eyes drift back shut. "Display?" He barely moved his lips to speak the words, almost feeling the flash of irritation it sent through Wyatt.
"Don't play dumb. You know full well what I'm talking about."
Torrance let his smile show then, opening one eye to gaze at Wyatt. "Trivial, Eckart. And you let it bother you so much." He could see the flicker of annoyance falter and flash back. This was just far too amusing. "I apologized, didn't I?"
"Trivial? Trivial?" Wyatt nearly sputtered. "And you know damn well, your apology didn't mean a thing."
Torrance sat up, gold eyes glinting in the sun. "Aw, was I not sincere enough? Should I try again? I never was good at apologies."
"Don't fucking patronize me, Storm."
"Ooh, cursing. Tsk tsk, Eckart, such language is not tolerated here at Pembroke." Torrance moved - not so much moved as slithered - down to the bench leaning over Wyatt's bag. "Don't want to get yourself landed in detention now, do you? Oh wait.. too late, hmm?"
Ever so briefly caught in those gold orbs, Wyatt stiffened. "And that's your fucking fault. My only consolation is you have to serve it with me." Wyatt didn't quite mean to say it like that.
Torrance's eyebrow quirked. As is mine. That was rather the whole point of the display. "Well. This afternoon should be interesting then, shouldn't it, Eckart?"
Wyatt's voice was blisteringly cold. "I don't know what the fuck you have planned, Storm, but be sure to leave me out of it. We're classmates, not acquaintances, and don't you forget it." With that, Wyatt stomped off the way he'd come, leaving Torrance behind to lean back again, the smile on his face entirely too amused. Interesting indeed.
--
The first half of detention, Torrance spent writing an essay. One seat over and one back from Wyatt, just close enough to annoy the blond boy with his superior silence. He could see the tension in Wyatt's shoulders. He was angry. A detention to mar his perfect record.
Torrance didn't like perfection. Something perfect was something unreal, something that begged to be disturbed, to be broken.
Wyatt was perfect.
The second half, Torrance was finished with the essay, long legs sprawled out into the aisle, gently nudging Wyatt's chair until he let loose a barely audible hiss, lips unmoving, "What?"
"You still writing that essay?"
"No, I'm drafting a new version of the Constitution. What the hell do you think?" Wyatt dropped his voice to a whisper as the teacher suddenly looked up, with a glare that clearly said, No talking.
"You're slow."
"I'd be faster if you'd shut up."
Torrance could see Wyatt's hand tighten around his pen. A rather elegant fountain pen. As was the hand gripping it. Torrance, eyes on the teacher now, slid across the aisle, directly behind Wyatt. "Oh am I distracting you?"
"Storm. Close your mouth or I'll close it for you."
Torrance didn't reply. He just lifted his own pen and pressed the felt tip lightly to the back of Wyatt's neck.
Wyatt jerked forward then swung around, hazel eyes wide and blazing. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Do you want another detention, Mr. Eckart? If not, I suggest you turn around and complete your essay." The instructor fixed a steely blue eye on Wyatt, gaze flickering to briefly examine Torrance who was the picture of bored disinterest.
“Sorry, sir,” Wyatt gritted out between clenched teeth.
Torrance leaned back then, smiling. It was countless how many times now he’d gotten a rise out of Wyatt. The too-cool ruler of Pembroke continuously lost his temper around Torrance and it just made him want to keep doing it.
He'd lost count of his points for today. Didn't matter. He was content.
Detention
Torrance lay on one of the bleachers, legs sprawled down onto the bench below. A satisfied smirk played on his lips, eyes closed as the sun beat down on his face. Today had gone well. In his opinion anyway. Wyatt looked far less amused. Like now, as he came storming across the field, intriguingly unaccompanied by his lackeys. The blond flung his backpack onto the bench a mere few inches from Torrance's face. Rare display of uncontrolled anger. Mm. Another point for Torrance.
"What the hell was that display in the cafeteria about, Storm?" Wyatt demanded without preamble.
Torrance let his eyes drift back shut. "Display?" He barely moved his lips to speak the words, almost feeling the flash of irritation it sent through Wyatt.
"Don't play dumb. You know full well what I'm talking about."
Torrance let his smile show then, opening one eye to gaze at Wyatt. "Trivial, Eckart. And you let it bother you so much." He could see the flicker of annoyance falter and flash back. This was just far too amusing. "I apologized, didn't I?"
"Trivial? Trivial?" Wyatt nearly sputtered. "And you know damn well, your apology didn't mean a thing."
Torrance sat up, gold eyes glinting in the sun. "Aw, was I not sincere enough? Should I try again? I never was good at apologies."
"Don't fucking patronize me, Storm."
"Ooh, cursing. Tsk tsk, Eckart, such language is not tolerated here at Pembroke." Torrance moved - not so much moved as slithered - down to the bench leaning over Wyatt's bag. "Don't want to get yourself landed in detention now, do you? Oh wait.. too late, hmm?"
Ever so briefly caught in those gold orbs, Wyatt stiffened. "And that's your fucking fault. My only consolation is you have to serve it with me." Wyatt didn't quite mean to say it like that.
Torrance's eyebrow quirked. As is mine. That was rather the whole point of the display. "Well. This afternoon should be interesting then, shouldn't it, Eckart?"
Wyatt's voice was blisteringly cold. "I don't know what the fuck you have planned, Storm, but be sure to leave me out of it. We're classmates, not acquaintances, and don't you forget it." With that, Wyatt stomped off the way he'd come, leaving Torrance behind to lean back again, the smile on his face entirely too amused. Interesting indeed.
--
The first half of detention, Torrance spent writing an essay. One seat over and one back from Wyatt, just close enough to annoy the blond boy with his superior silence. He could see the tension in Wyatt's shoulders. He was angry. A detention to mar his perfect record.
Torrance didn't like perfection. Something perfect was something unreal, something that begged to be disturbed, to be broken.
Wyatt was perfect.
The second half, Torrance was finished with the essay, long legs sprawled out into the aisle, gently nudging Wyatt's chair until he let loose a barely audible hiss, lips unmoving, "What?"
"You still writing that essay?"
"No, I'm drafting a new version of the Constitution. What the hell do you think?" Wyatt dropped his voice to a whisper as the teacher suddenly looked up, with a glare that clearly said, No talking.
"You're slow."
"I'd be faster if you'd shut up."
Torrance could see Wyatt's hand tighten around his pen. A rather elegant fountain pen. As was the hand gripping it. Torrance, eyes on the teacher now, slid across the aisle, directly behind Wyatt. "Oh am I distracting you?"
"Storm. Close your mouth or I'll close it for you."
Torrance didn't reply. He just lifted his own pen and pressed the felt tip lightly to the back of Wyatt's neck.
Wyatt jerked forward then swung around, hazel eyes wide and blazing. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Do you want another detention, Mr. Eckart? If not, I suggest you turn around and complete your essay." The instructor fixed a steely blue eye on Wyatt, gaze flickering to briefly examine Torrance who was the picture of bored disinterest.
“Sorry, sir,” Wyatt gritted out between clenched teeth.
Torrance leaned back then, smiling. It was countless how many times now he’d gotten a rise out of Wyatt. The too-cool ruler of Pembroke continuously lost his temper around Torrance and it just made him want to keep doing it.
He'd lost count of his points for today. Didn't matter. He was content.