Quiet (with you)

~

"I like it here, beside you dear,

You're even more than you appear,

And in the clouds, my head is clear,

Every time you say hello."

—Quiet by Lights

~

Even after making friends, Marc still likes to write under the stairs. Maybe it was just an ingrained habit at this point.

Marc didn't do well with crowds, or loud places. It was all too chaotic. Ironic, considering he loved loud music; but dealing with people in real life was different than listening to his favorite albums.

Either way, Marc started his habit of siting and writing under the stairs since the start of the school year, too anxious to deal with both the cafeteria and his crippling loneliness of not having any friends to sit with. He has friends to sit with now, but his anxiety was a fickle thing. Sometimes he just didn't want to seem like a bother.

The stairs were a place he enjoyed, though. They were quiet. Out of the way. And no one looked under the stairs, so it provided a nice little hidey hole. He could be isolated, while not being wholly alone.

After all, if he stayed under the stairs in the courtyard, he could hear and see when lunch let out and he had to go back to class. He couldn't do that if he wrote in, say, the Library. The Library was too quiet, too out of the way. Marc would forget altogether about needing to leave, entranced in his writing, making him accidentally skip classes like some sort of delinquent.

And he wasn't a delinquent! He just got lost in his head when he wrote...

Marc fiddles with his pen. Someone takes that moment to step close to him on his left.

"Hey," a familiar voice says in a yawn. Marc snaps up his attention to Nathaniel, who hovers over him for a few seconds, before unceremoniously dropping to the ground to sit next to him. Or, well. It looks more like he collapsed to the ground.

"Are you okay?!" Marc yelps, nearly chucking his pen and notebook aside in his haste.

Nathaniel just blinks back at him blearily, posture horribly slouched. He has dark circles under his uncovered eye, as if stamped on the pale skin there. His vibrant red hair is mussed, like he'd just been sleeping.

"M'fine," the redhead sighs out, giving another jaw-cracking yawn right after. "Just tired."

Marc frowns over at the other boy in concern. "Nathaniel..."

"Mmm?" he hums listlessly in reply.

"Did...did you get any sleep at all, last night?" Marc hedges, staring at the exhausted-looking artist.

"...Maybe."

"How many hours?" he presses carefully, concern welling up even stronger as he watches Nathaniel duck his head and slump down even further.

"...A few."

"How many exactly?"

"Like...Four? Maybe?" is the weak response.

"Nathaniel!" Marc gasps, scandalized and concerned.

Nathaniel just groans, burying his face in his hand. "M'fiiiine."

"You're sleep deprived! That's not fine!" he retorts, setting aside his notebook and pen to turn in place and put his full attention to his friend-slash-crush.