Stuart Twombly x reader

17

 It's hard to look Stuart in the face the next morning when he joins you all at the table, still pasty from the night before. You keep your eyes trained on the book you borrowed, still trying to understand the unusual word, head bent so you face your lap. Unfortunately, you chose today to tie your hair up, so the scowl on your face is clear.

 "Are you all right, y/n?" Lyle asks from across the table, and you look up, Stuart's eyes meeting yours incidentally. You can't stop the cold look aimed at him and turn to Lyle, turning a page irritably.

 "I'm fine," you reply harshly. You barely got any sleep this morning, still tossing around in bed in aggravation over the strippers, and found yourself pummeling your pillow most of the time, imagining it to be their stupid faces.

 "Are you sure, because you look kind of...sad," Lyle presses, and you refrain from throwing the book at him. Instead, you give him a tight smile, lips hurting, and avoid looking back at Stuart.

 "I'm fine," you reply, your voice betraying you from the strain. Lyle looks back down and doesn't respond, clearly terrified you might start going crazy. Neha pats your knee under the table and you sigh slightly, frowning over the book once again.

 Soon everyone gets up to leave, all of them glancing at their phones and claiming to have to hurry up with their designing, and stride away, leaving you to keep reading for the final ten minutes of your break, blinking hard to wake yourself up and concentrate. You started that book and you were determined to finish it and at least understand something from it.

 "What's your problem today?"

 Your body jerks in surprise and you look up to see Stuart still sitting opposite you, phone on the table, and his mouth a firm line, though there is something softer in his eyes. You glance around to see where the others have gone but they all are completely out of sight, leaving him behind with you. Surely he couldn't have sent a text out to all of them to get rid of them or something...?

 Just as you're pondering the likeliness of this, Stuart raps the table to get your attention off staring at his phone. "Y/n. What's wrong?"

 "Nothing," you reply sharply, clenching your fingers so hard on the book on your lap that the sharp edges bite into your skin and leave red dents. "I'm surprised you care, since you seemed to have forgotten I exist." The last part is muttered under your breath, but he hears and sits up slightly, frowning.

 "What?" he questions, as if he didn't ignore you for the past week. You laugh bitterly and look back down at your book, ignoring him, but he doesn't stop. "Y/n, what the hell are you talking about?" He sounds more annoyed than concerned, and your own temper can't be squashed. Instead, you find yourself saying the words that have been desperate to break free.

 "You! You're the problem today, okay? And not just today, it's everyday! First of all, you spend most of your time insulting me just because I don't like -" you glance down at the book to find a word, and realise it's a page full of diagrams. " - stuff you like. And then you finally want to talk to me like a normal person and then you just drop me again and stop talking! And now you want to know if I'm okay or not! Why don't you make your mind up if you like me or not?"

 You're not done ranting yet, and Stuart's expression is shocked - for once, you have left him speechless. "And then there's those stupid strippers all over you and you just acting like they're so amazing just because they've got boobs and this - stupid - book - is - so - ab - normal!"

 You punctuate your last few shouts with a whack to the table with the book, breathing heavily and dropping it on the table, exhaling heavily and staring at the title with hatred. Stuart stares at you for a minute, then says, "Wait, why do you care about some strippers?"

 That definitely did not mean to come out.

 You struggle to patch up your accidental confession of jealousy and say in as smooth a voice you can muster, "I mean...like....you notice them more than me and they're...just...strippers. Yeah." What you meant was he would rather look at everybody but you, but it still comes out jealous.

 Stuart eyes you for a moment, looking desperate to smirk but holding back, and looks down at the book, picking it up and glancing at the cover.

 "'Computer Science: Simplified'," he reads, and looks at you enquringly. "Why are you reading this?"

 "Um...favourite author?" you try, and Stuart doesn't buy it. You pray in your mind he doesn't latch on, and feel relieved when he gives the book back, shaking his head and muttering, "Weirdo."

 "Are you going to tell me why you're jealous of some strippers now?" Stuart asks suddenly, and you look at him in horror, face deepening to red. So he did catch that.

 "Are you going to tell me why you're so bipolar with me?" you fire back, hugging the worst book you've read to your stomach. Stuart looks away and shakes his head, refusing to reply.

 "No," he says shortly, and it's then that you realise all of the tables around you are empty, everybody back to work. Meaning you are late for your shift. You get up, legs cramping, and stand for a moment, watching Stuart putting his bag over his shoulder. He looks at you and opens his mouth, about to say something, then shakes his head, sighing, turning away and walking back to the interns.

 Just as you turn to leave, teeth freeing your lip once he is out of your sight, you notice something glimmering in the sunlight, and step forward to see he has left his phone on the table. You wonder about rushing back to give it to him but feel to lazy to, not to mention curious as to how long it takes him until he freaks out and has a meltdown. You pick it up timidly and can't help but smile, realising what this means.

 You, of all people, have made him unwittingly forget about his phone.