OLIVE ♥ (readybrekglow) wrote in knees_up,
OLIVE ♥
readybrekglow
knees_up

Untitled Schoolboy!fic

Title: Haven’t thought of one yet, but I’m happy to take suggestions.
Pairing: Not too sure at the moment, but most likely Carl/Stan
Genre: Schoolboy! fic
Rating: Nothing too high. Swearing, exploding blenders and a slight (very, very slight) insult towards band geeks
Notes: I’m not too sure when the next part will be up, exams are coming up so it might take a while.
P.S. Thanks to albion_forever for the idea of writing a schoolboy!fic

            ‘Fuck this trunk, fuck this guitar, and fuck this stupid windy country!’ Anthony slammed the trunk he had been hauling down on the sidewalk and collapsed onto it angrily. He set his guitar next to him delicately, being careful not to jostle it unnecessarily, even though it had been packed up quite well. He sat motionless for some time, curly hair being blown down into his face by the fierce wind, the faint sounds of the outside world floating gently into his ears. He wasn’t anything like the people here; they were just so different. What had his mother been thinking? Moving to a foreign country was the last thing he’d needed at the moment. Sure, she had to work to support herself and him, but why couldn’t she do it back home?
           
            “And right when things were beginning to look up…” he muttered into the wind, which promptly wisped his words away.
           
            This was the worst fucking time for this, not that any time would have been particularly better, but now of all times was worse. Just the other day he had been jamming with his new band, one with an upcoming record deal and nice equipment. A band that made girls want to be with them, and who made boys want to be them. Well, maybe he had gone a bit overboard with the girls part, but boys definitely did want to be more like them, sometimes.
           
            But now that was all gone. All the hard work he’d done only resulted in a month of partial high school fame. Of course, he had nothing to even show for even the little pleasure he had gotten, and now he was on his way to some school that he knew would be the death of him. It just so happened that even though his mom was pressed for money, she had managed to enroll him in a private school, one that required him to wear a tie, had no girls and where he’d be living for the next five months.
           
            This was all just so wrong, so fucking backwards; ‘even the streets in this place won’t go the right way’. He’d always been a good kid, why did he have to get punished like this? He’d gotten decent grades throughout school, fuck, he’d even joined the band one year (that was one thing he was never going to live down, no matter how hard he tried). He’d never had any run ins with the law, always kept to himself when he was out in public; made sure his mouth was shut and his step was sure. Never got into drugs, well, at least not in a big way, not enough to worry about anyhow. And most of all, he’d stayed with his mother, even during the hardest of days. He’d endured the abuse of his father, took the blows that were meant for his mother. He’d taken them without a tear, never said anything to her, to anybody, because he needed to do it for her, needed to keep her from her own husband. And he’d been doing it for so long, that when his mother finally did find out, he’d wanted her to let it continue, to let him keep getting beat until he was bleeding and bruised from head to toe, because it was who he was. A court order soon ended what he thought would be perpetual, and he was alone again. A sad 17 year old train wreck, alone in England on his way to some boarding school.
 
            He lifted his spidery hand to wipe a single tear that had trickled down his right rosy cheek, cursing himself silently. “Oh, that’s it Anthony, why don’t you just give them a reason to think you’re weird.” He sighed a shaky breath before standing once again on his lanky legs. He resumed his hauling, heading in the direction of his new school. The naked trees alongside the road did nothing to break the wind and after only a few seconds of travel tears began to stream from his wind burnt eyes, staining his face; luckily no one was around to see him.
 
***
            Eyes red and puffy and body numb with cold, Anthony arrived at an extremely large castle-like building. ‘They definitely don’t have many of these in America’. He entered what he assumed was the main door and found himself in an immense foyer. The towering ceiling must have been 30 ft and he stood there in awe for a moment, staring up. The odd glance a boy threw at him was enough to make Anthony blush and continue to on through the building. He dragged himself and his belongings over to a reception desk that was tucked in an adjoining room.
           
            “What can I do for you, love?” an old lady who sat behind the desk asked him.
           
            “Well, uhh…I’m new here and I don’t really know where to go.”
 
            “Alright, what’s your name?”
 
            “Err, Anthony Rossomando.”
 
            “Mmm hmm. Rossomando, Rossomando…” she stared at her computer, wrinkled face contorted into a look of concentration. “Ah, here it is! So you will be staying in room number 324, it’s just down that hallway and up two flights of stairs. Oh, and here’s your schedule.” She handed him a white piece of paper that promptly had him frowning. English, math, and music; this semester was already turning out to be a horrible one.
           
            “Anthony, where are you from dear?” the lady asked, snapping him out of his reveries.
 
            “Oh, I’m from Connecticut.”
 
            “Must be hard being so far away from home.” She sympathized.
 
            “Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, it really is.”
 
***
 
            When he finally arrived at room 324, Anthony was greeted by the sounds of Oasis, two boys arguing and the loud buzz of some sort of electrical machine. Looking down at the bottom of the door, he was almost sure he could see smoke spilling out of the room, he was definitely sure he could smell it too.
 
            “Oh god, can you please turn that rubbish music off!” one boy yelled.
 
            “Hey, what are you calling rubbish Mr. All-I-listen-to-is-shit music? Anyhow, you shouldn’t be mad at me, I made you a milkshake!” said the other one.
 
            “Don’t want any of your fucking goopy food…” the first one mumbled before he began to shout. “Didz, Didz! Don’t open it!”
 
            A loud splattering noise exploded within the room, obnoxious laughter soon followed.
 
            “Oh my god,” the boy named Didz heaved between ragged fits of laughter. “Did you see…look how gross…it’s fucking pink!”
 
            Anthony couldn’t make any sense of what was going on, and finally decided that now was a good time to make his entrance. He knocked at the door twice and stood back, waiting for an answer. The door was opened a crack and a boy with brown hair and eyes to match stuck his head out, cigarette dangling from his lips. His open white dress shirt and slackened tie were covered in strawberry milkshake and he was grinning like a madman. Taking the cigarette down from his mouth, he stepped outside and looked at Anthony.
 
            “Yeah?”
 
            “This your room?” Anthony asked
 
            “No,” he waved dismissively, “s’not mine, it’s his.” He pointed over his shoulder.
 
            “Well, I was assigned this dorm room…”
 
            “Ah, so you’re his new roommate. Hold on a sec, yeah? Hey!” he yelled over the music. “Come here, your new roommates here.”
 
            “I’m Didz by the way.” He stuck out his hand for Anthony to shake.
 
            “Stan,” he replied, grasping his hand and shaking it firmly.
 
            “Why are we standing out here?” Didz asked suddenly. “You should bring your stuff inside.” Glancing down he noticed Anthony’s guitar. “You’re a musician, are you?”
 
            “Yeah, I am. What about you?”
 
            “I play bass, and a bit of guitar. Actually, me and Carl, wherever he’s gotten to, play gigs from time to time, ‘cept we need a new rhythm guitarist, our last one got expelled a few weeks ago. Anyhow, if you turn out to be any good, maybe you could play with us sometime. So, enough with my talking, why don’t you come in, yeah? It’s not usually this messy, I just happened to of had a bad experience with a blender.”
 
            Didz opened the door to the room and led Anthony inside. Setting his stuff down on the floor, Anthony glanced over at the other boy in the room and was slightly taken aback. The light coloured jeans he was wearing were worn and ripped along the knees and the bottom, and his slim upper body was only partial covered by a tight leather jacket that was left open, exposing his pale chest. A cigarette dangled from his red lips, and when he finally acknowledged that Anthony was even present, he flipped the brown hair that had previously been in his eyes back to show his face. He stood up and walked over to Anthony.
 
            “Hey, I’m Carl.” He said grinning.
 
            “Nice to meet you, I’m Stan.” He replied, smiling as well. Alright, so maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.
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