Dreamswap Oneshots

Math (fmaa2)

I have no idea if any of you were like, wondering what the Creepypasta Squad was up to in fmaa2 au, but I am not going to wait for answer before uploading this and give you the answer. If you are wondering why I am writing fluff now, it is for an apology to anyone who might have suffered due to me torturing Hacker so much these past days.

I will not stop.

But have a break still.

***

Warnings: M a t h, strong language

Ships: None

Synopsis: Well, if he could not help Bobby himself then he still had that one ace card up his sleeve.

Or rather, a bi card.

He was the opposite of asexual after all.

"HACKER!"

***

The sound of frantic scribbling echoed inside of Bobby's otherwise silent room. It was quite late, the clock on the wall ticking in intervals of seconds. According to it, it was already 8 P.M.

While his pen was indeed moving frantically, it did not write answers but incoherent gribbles instead, hoping that this bundle of disconnected and bent lines would somehow give him the answer to the math problem nagging him on his notebook.

And perhaps he hoped to fool the teacher into thinking he did his homework by mistaking these unintelligent scribblings for answers.

He could be staring holes into it as much as he wanted, the questions did not magically change to a simpler one because why would they? He hated math because he never understood what the questions were even about.

At the third line he completed tainting a faded grey with his pencil, he let out a loud growl as he threw his pen at the wall. "FUCKING HOMEWORK!" God, he wanted to go play Minecraft so bad, but Randy said he was not allowed to before he had finished doing everything.

He had been stuck on the same problem for hours now!

And there were more on that page!

An angry frustrated groan left him as he wiped his hand across the desk, knocking his pencil and notebook off. The items crashed onto the floor unceremoniously as Bobby buried his head in his hands, cursing out everyone who thought making school the way it is was a clever idea.

Randy soon came knocking at the door after hearing all the commotion. "Son? Is everything okay in there?" came his muddled voice from the door.

"No!" He replied, frustrated. "I hate school! And I hate homework! They suck Randy!"

The latter took that as a positive response to enter if the way his door swung open to reveal a worried Randy was any indication of that. Or he simply did not care. But it was Randy, he always cared so he doubted that was the case. That was why he liked him after all.

The latter came into the room and bent over to pick up the scattered books on the floor to put them back onto the desk. He opened them back where Bobby left them, and he groaned at seeing the same problems appear in his sight. The interrogation marks tempting him to run the tip of his pen through them so he would not have to see them anymore.

"What is the problem, son? Are the problems taking too long for you to figure out?" he asked as he patted the angry teenager on the head, ruffling his hair in the process. Normally, he would have thrown a tantrum about that, saying things about how it would mess up his hair but right now? He was too distracted by his pure flames of hatred aimed toward the educational system to care about his haircut all that much.