Biology: A Summary

You're failing Biology.

Well, that's more hyperbole than full truth. You've got a high B, but the way you see it, you may as well be failing.

At the beginning of the year, you were the best in the class: always got extra credit on your papers, called on for most answers - no one was better than you, not that those tenth and eleventh graders even stood a chance. (They're in a freshman class, for fuck sake.)

And then, miraculously, a month into the school year, this complete douchefuck of a kid walks into your sixth period, stupid thick glasses and shitty purple hair dye catching in the flourescent lighting. You're disgusted, but then you smirk, because you know you're about to fucking school this six-foot mess of pride and hormones. Nobody is better than you at biology, and he's about to learn that.

The teacher announces the kid as "Eridan Ampora, please be kind as he's just got out of the honor's class." This throws you off for all of two-point-five seconds because shit, this guy might actually be smarter than you - but then, you realize, he's out of honor's, so maybe you've got a chance.

Naturally, he's shy, and probably embarrassed, and although you can't blame him you still take full advantage of this. However, by the end of the week your teacher has asked him some of the questions you know he would have asked you, and oh fuck he actually knows the answers. You allow yourself to panic for exactly two minutes, then regain your composure. You are not about to let some probably-not-even-British snob take your spot as best in the class, no sir, that seat belongs to Captor royalty only.

And, as the universe has proven time and time again, your reign is overthrown and the throne is taken by Ampora's admittedly nice ass.

It's during the second semester that you realize you actually have no fucking clue what you're doing. Between therapy sessions every Monday, several class presentations and the mountain of other math homework you could give a fuck about, you have no time to even slightly understand the Bio homework you've got. By the end of the quarter, you've got a C, two angry dads, and spiraling mental health. Nothing could make this worse. Absolutely nothing.

Finals week approaches. You want to die.

Eridan's attitude in and outside of class doesn't help matters, either. He's constantly staring at you from across the class, he gives you a light push out the door if you're in front of him. (And maybe if you weren't so fucking touchstarved you might give yourself more of a chance to be angry about it.) You hate him, you think. You really, really, really hate him, all five-foot-eleven-inches of him. Including that shitty purple streak. God, especially that shitty purple streak. Sometimes you wanna rip the damn thing off his head just so you won't have to see it again.

It could be the finals talking, but you also wanna kiss him so hard he sees stars. You peg this down as stress-induced libido and move on with life.

Exam season ends, and your sleeping schedule falls into a healthier rhythm. Biology starts up a new unit, and even though everyone started at the same point, you still have no fucking clue what's going on.

Right now, you're supposed to be devising an experiment that shows the effect of homeostasis on the body. You're allowed up to four members in a group (the sophomores and juniors will flock to each other); you only need one.

The project is fairly easy, you understand the basics of homeostasis and how it works. It's the experiment itself that gives you the Cthulu of all migraines, as you have no fucking idea what you're going to do.

Your brainstorming session is cut short when your peripheral vision fills with a dark blue-and-grey-striped sweater. Fuck.

It's not like you actually hate the guy, it's just that you've had a long ass day and your head hurts, and the only thing his fashion sense tends to do is fuck with your eyes and after finals week you don't ever want to see another Ibuprofen pill, thank you very much.