Dressed to Kill // DNF

1.8

TW's: DV again :(, slight SH

The weekend finally ended. Not soon enough, in Clay's opinion, seeing as he was genuinely excited to go back to school.

He'd gotten up earlier than usual that day, getting ready for the long day quicker than he usually would have. Clay threw on his backpack, smiling at his mom as he passed her on his way out the door. His dad led him to the car, and they got in, with the younger of the two drumming his fingers on his jeans in anticipation.

The drive seemed to take hours. Clay knew that it couldn't have been longer than a five minute drive, but it felt like ages.

Mind wandering as the car traveled, the blonde bounced his leg up and down. He was quite simply eager for this next week of school.

With the school now in sight, Clay sat up straighter in his seat.

"What's got you so giddy this morning?" His father asked from beside him.

Clay blinked, the fact having slipped his mind that someone was sitting right next to him. He looked over to his dad.

"Um," he said smartly. "I'm just excited to see my friends," he offered.

Which was, true, to an extent. However, he was only anticipating seeing one friend in general. All the other friends he had were kind of just assholes.

His dad hummed thoughtfully, sending his son a look from where he sat, but fell silent without further interrogation.

The car pulled into the parking lot, and had hardly any time to park before Clay was opening the door and stepping out of the vehicle. Waving goodbye to his dad, the impatient boy shut the car door and immediately headed towards the front doors.

He was pushed a little bit on his way down the hall to his first class, but other than that it was mostly just a swift walk down to the English classroom.

Pushing open the door, Clay's eyes flew straight to his regular seat.

As expected, George was sitting right there, paying no attention to anything but the little scratched drawings in the corner of his desk. Though, as if he could feel Clay's gaze on him, he looked up and locked eyes with the blonde boy making his way towards his seat.

While Clay slung his backpack around the back of his chair, George eyed him warily.

"What?" Clay asked, noticing the look on the brunette's face.

George blinked at him. "You're excessively giddy today."

The blonde threw his hands up. "What is with people and the word 'giddy?' I swear, that's like the word of the day."

"Well," George began, "maybe-"

"Okay, students. Quiet now, please," Mrs. Bell interrupted quite rudely. "I understand that we're all excited from the weekend, but I'm getting payed to teach you lousy teenagers," she said in a manner that was probably meant to be joking.

No one laughed.

She waited for a moment to see if they had just not gotten the joke. One could practically hear the crickets chirping.

The teacher sighed. "Fine. Today what we'll be..."

Clay crossed his arms. His dislike of this class had previously been clouded over by his anxiousness to talk to his friend for a moment, but it definitely wasn't anymore.

He bounced his leg, looking around the room. His ears had tuned out of the lesson, which he knew was probably not healthy for his grade, but he couldn't muster the energy to care. Tapping his fingers on the desk, Clay sighed. All he could do for right now was await the merciful sounds of the school bell, dismissing him from this particularly unbearable ring of hell.