Rises the Moon (solangelo)

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The whole day was a blur, save for the dreaded test. He could barely keep his head up, much less make sense of any words on the page. 

"¿Necesitas ayuda?" asked the wizened old Spanish teacher. He was a big believer in the immersion method. 

Will tried to get the gears in his head to turn the right way, and forced his clumsy tongue to speak. "Estoy bien, Señor Valdez." He mumbled, filling in another bubble that he wasn't sure was the right one to fill. 

Hazel turned hers in first, followed by Leo. Will didn't pay attention to them. They were friends, sure, but he was getting so tired by now that it was hard to care about... Anything, really. There could be a fire and he wouldn't do anything but numbly carry out the instructions blared down to him, blank-eyed and slack-jawed. 

Will finished last, and probably belly-flopped it. But he didn't care, his dad wouldn't be as harsh with him on stuff like Spanish or history. As long as he did well in his stem courses, that was what really mattered. 

Right after the test was lunch. His dad had packed him leftover rotisserie chicken from last night's dinner, peanut butter sandwich crackers, and a can of V8. He barely picked at his food, mostly just drank the V8 while studying, doing the homework he'd been assigned from the morning classes and going over his notes, but he knew he would get in trouble if his dad knew he didn't finish his lunch. He didn't want to waste it, so he went looking for someone to give it to. At least the chicken, he could slide the crackers in his pocket. 

He got up from his usual spot and eventually found a boy who didn't have any real food in front of him, just an oatmeal creme pie that he was pinching off into tiny portions, and a thermos that, if smell was anything to go by, was full of hot black coffee. He was pale and gaunt and short, with messy, wavy black hair that almost went down to his shoulders. His eyes were black as the void of space, or-... No. Warmer than that. Brown, like rich, dark soil. Like bittersweet chocolate. His nose was straight and elegant and roman, his lips thin and pink, was he wearing lip gloss or was that just how they normally are? He was definitely wearing eyeliner, and chipped black nail polish. There was a ring around his finger, a silver skull with amethyst eyes. A brown suede leather jacket around his shoulders, lined with fleece and adorned with flowery patches. It seemed to contradict the rest of him, ripped black skinny jeans and an oversized MCR shirt, a studded black belt and black leather doc martens, though oddly enough, the laces were yellow. Maybe it's code for something. 

He cleared his throat, trying to remind himself what he was there to do. "Hey, um... I'm Will." 

He didn't answer for a few seconds, but once he saw him, he tugged out earbuds that Will didn't even realize he'd been wearing. "Hmm? What do you want?" 

Will bit his lip. "... I-I like your shoelaces." He started nervously. 

The boy snorted. "Thanks, I stole them from the president." Will cocked his head to the side, confused, and the boy laughed nervously. "Sorry, that was cringy." 

"No, no, it's fine. I'm Will, by the way." He pulled out the tupperware container of chicken. "My dad packed me something I don't want, and um... I was wondering if maybe you'd want it?" He asked. 

He looked a little bit panicked when he said that, like he was afraid he was trying to poison him. "Oh, um..." He seemed to psyche himself up for it. "... Sure. Thanks." 

Will put the tupperware on the table. "So, um... Can I sit next to you?" He asked. 

"No, buzz off." He positioned his arm around his food the way Will did with his doodles in class whenever the teacher walked by. 

He respected the boy's wishes and walked away, but he watched from his regular table. As he drank the last dribbles of his V8, he didn't stop staring as the mysterious boy began to tear the chicken apart into little shreds, and eat them one by one, just like he'd been doing with his oatmeal cream pie. He wanted to go back over there and ask him what that was about, but he knew that'd be rude, and besides, the bell rang before he got the opportunity. 

He groaned and gathered everything up, walking to his last class of the day; Algebra.