Machines (Crown the Empire, Andy x Dave)

Two

Literally the shittiest chapter ever. Sorry. The next one will be better I swear.

-Jay Way

It was an office of sorts. There was a front desk, and an entrance into the halls, but there was absolutely no one in sight. I stood awkwardly at the front desk for a moment, absent-mindedly drumming my fingers on its cold plastic-like surface. The sickly-yellow artificial light caking the room almost made we want to go back outside and stand in the rain. My eyes wandered around the room. It wasn't much. Those words came to mind again as I took in the little amount of detail there was.

The walls were beige, and every few feet or so, an ugly "abstract" painting hung. The paintings were a small collection of differently colored squares, placed in random spots on the canvas. I'm still not entirely sure why some people consider that art. Behind the front desk was an entrance to what I assumed was the school nurse's room, judging by the sign above it reading, "Nurse" in obvious, bold writing. Next to the front desk, there was a wooden, swinging-door. I slipped behind the main desk and cautiously gazed at the uniform stack of papers on top of it. There was another door which I hadn't noticed at first, half open, and leading to more desks. I looked away from the pile of paper, and knocked on the slightly ajar door. No answer. I peered inside. Nobody.

A fine job this place does. I thought, sighing and walking down the hall that led into the school. The door was heavy, and the humid air hit me like a train when I stepped outiside once more. Luckily for me, there was a roof over practically the whole school, and the dusty rain drummed against it like bullet shells. Once again, there was no one in sight.

Everyone must already be in class. I concluded. This was starting to get a little fucking creepy. I thought of maybe looking into one of the classrooms, but my horrible shyness would not allow it. I leaned against one of the cold, blue lockers and sighed. School was never my forte, looking back on my middle and elementary school days, I was often in trouble for missing school, and when that wasn't the case, it was my grades. I'll admit, I care about my future, but when it came to class I just couldn't be bothered. My mother never even asked about my grades, so I figured it wasn't important.

I was snapped from my thoughts, as I heard dull footsteps clear as the rain against the concrete floor. Around the corner stepped a sharply-dressed man, middle-aged and serious looking. I suddenly felt guilty of something, even though my tardiness was completely out of my control. He saw me.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" His voice rang out. I just looked at him. He sighed in an exasperated manner. "Answer the question." I looked at the floor, stock-still and silent. He sighed again, but his expression changed. "You must be Andy. Follow me."