These Stories Are Reasonable

Intention (OneShot)

Gray and Stephen sat shoulder to shoulder at their desks. Second, last, year of middle school, Spanish One. February 14th.

Their assignment was simple, to address a Valentine's day card to someone they loved, writing sentences in four different sentences. 

I like...

You have... 

You are... 

You have...

The paper was a pastel yellow with the bold outline of a heart spreading across nearly all of it. Once you'd finished your sentences, and made the necessary corrections, you'd cut it out to give to a person of your choice, the one to whom you addressed it. If you'd made it up, just for the sake of the grade, then you could tape it to the wall outside.

Honestly, it was one of the easiest things they'd been assigned in days. "What are you planning to write?" Stephen asked with a smirk, training his eyes on Gray's blank paper, "Surely something exceptionally romantic?" He mocked the stoic boy who took no notice of his jokes.

"She says we can only use the words from this list-" He pointed to a relatively short list, "-So I'm trying to formulate the most complex sentences I can." Clever boy, Stephen hummed, watching the gears turn in Gray's head like a finely oiled machine. "Though I fear there are not many,"

"Not many at all," Stephen looked back to his own paper, equally blank. There's be no extra points for complexity, no prize money, nothing worth while at all. In that case, he'd naturally do as he always did. The absolute bare minimum. 

Gray hummed something, once or twice he'd lectured his friend about making himself out to be less than he was. Stephen was incredible in Gray's eyes, and he knew that. Despite the cruel natured jokes and glares, Gray still did care for him. At least... a little. Probably. He sighed, putting his pencil to paper. 

 (I like your eyes)

 (You have pretty hair)

 (You are inteligent)

Stephen paused a moment, running low on easy options.

 (You have my love)

He smiled, finished was all he had to be. Gray however, was still analyzing his paper, watching the words become answers and the answers become more perfect versions of themselves. If Stephen so wished, he and Gray could be nearly the same. Though, if he remained himself, some would claim they were polar opposites. "You're trying really hard." He noted aloud to Gray, who was obviously aware.

"You could try harder," He sighed, etching out a few sentences.

 (I like being with you)

 (You have life every day/you are full of life everyday)

 (You are very funny)

 (You have my heart)

Gray's work was perfectly centered, each letter was the proper height like a font, "Looks like you ran out of complicated ones," Stephen joked, resting his head on his desk. At this point, he didn't care to get his work checked by their teacher, nor did he care to cut it out. School was a pain, today was no different.

"There's only so much I can do," He sighed, thinking also about sleep. For most of his life, sleep rarely graced him. At least, nice sleep, sleep worthwhile. Of course, forcing yourself to stay awake and aware was no easy task, and his grade wouldn't benefit from such actions. Gray slept anyway, and he woke in tears, he woke in screams, he hyperventilated and sobbed uncontrollably. Maybe today Stephen would stay the night and Gray would finally be able to get some sleep. Stephen's presence was a beacon unto a dim shadow-ridden room.

The small boy took both him and his friend's paper to the teacher, who didn't remark about Stephen not coming up here himself. She, and just about everyone else, were well aware of the boy's bad habits. Both received full marks, and that was all, no extra praise, no extra critization. Gray didn't care since, he didn't work for applause.

Stephen Ahn slept in his classes often, and by this stage in their friendship, Gray didn't question nor lecture him about it. As he returned to his seat, his eyes watched the boy, head down and arms crossed, prompting a smile. Though, he wouldn't bother his tired from.

Instead, Gray cut carefully on bolded lines. Each cut was precise with a satisfying, crunch, of paper between sharp scissor blades. Snip. Snip. His small hands moved slowly, making each line as even as it could be. Stephen relished in the sound of the boy next to him, the sounds that meant he was alive and well. Cutting paper and cracking horrible jokes.

Really. Gray's jokes were horrifically unfunny. When they'd first started hanging out, Stephen laughed at each and every one of them. Even when Gray explained, in great depth, why they were funny and how it was a joke in the first place. However, by this point in their best friendship, Stephen just glared at him and told him he was exceptionally unfunny.

Oddly enough, it made Gray smile more than when Stephen laughed.

The smaller boy finished cutting after only a moment, he was precise and efficient. Smart and wonderful. "Do you want me to turn yours in?" He asked, gently tapping his fingers against the top of Stephen's back, just below his neck. It was an odd question to Stephen, since Gray knew well that he didn't care in the slightest. Though, he'd always been a considerate, sensitive, friend, so perhaps it was just a confirmation.

Stephen shifted with a hum to glance at Gray from just barely above his crossed arms, "Sure," He answered, watching his friend. The auburn often times found himself doing this, watching the gears turn as he worked, or his smile as he joked. Contrary to popular opinion, Gray was incredibly expressive. You just had to look for it.

Gray nodded and marked Stephen's name on the back in neat letters.

"Actually," He stopped, "Keep it,"

The other blinked a couple times, then smiled, "Thank you Stephen," He handed his own pastel yellow heart back in response, "You can have my complex sentences."

Stephen opened his mouth to say something else, though found his words cut off by the ringing of the bell. Gray and him didn't have the next class together, and Gray's was at the other side of the building.

"Bye Stephen," He smiled again, hurrying as to not be tardy.

"Bye Gray," It was a simple ritual, the same goodbye everyday. Though this time, as Stephen collected himself to move one door down the hall, he collected a yellow heart with centered sentences and pretty compliments. Beneath the font-like letters of the assignment, were a couple more words, Happy Valentine's Day Stephen Ahn, in perfect, elegant, cursive. 

When had he wrote this? Stephen wondered, as he hadn't seen Gray pick up a pen after he'd already finished his work, aside from marking Stephen's name on his own paper. Which Stephen had been watching the curve of his pen and ink as he wrote. Unless, he'd written it before that point? But Gray planned to turn his in right, along with Stephen's until he'd told him otherwise?

Stephen paused, then smiled again. 

This was always Gray's intention.

Such a clever boy.

.......................................................................................................................................

Happy Valentine's!

I hope you had a great one, and hey! You got a gift!

Consider this my valentine to you, so you've got at least one!

Love you lot's friends, I hope you have a great week! Until we meet again!