Leuthold Preparatory | ✓

Chapter Eight

[ A/N: warning for implied and discussed homophobia, possible triggers regarding verbal abuse ahead]

Defenses

By the time he had stopped walking, Noah knew little about where he was or how far he had gone. There were trees that were bare, their leaves had fallen around him; shades of orange to green, bright reds to vibrant purple and blue flowers clouded the ground. He realized was in some kind of small forest, or perhaps even the beginning of a true forest as the trees only kept going.

From the grassy yard and gardens, he thought he had walked to the edges of Leuthold Preparatory. The Alps lay in one direction, snow-capped and mightily they stared down at him like prison gates.

"Hey, Cooper!" A voice rang out so clearly amongst the trees it was as if they had spoken themselves.

Noah spun in his loafers, realized how labored his breath was and how thirsty he was when he saw Sinclair a few paces behind him in the trees, yet seemingly unaware of Noah. For a moment, Noah considered hiding. He thought that if he could duck into the denser forestry; if he could run behind a tree, but the leaves would give him away when he moved. He knew this game, he knew that he was trapped. Autumn colors be damned, he thought, they had trapped him in the open; he was alone, far from the sights and ears of anyone that might even attempt to help.

"Oh, for the love of—you scared me, Cooper!" Sinclair said and Noah flinched as he realized he was spotted. It was too late to run, too late to hide. Sinclair had all those athletic things in his room and he walked toward Noah without problem, it seemed he used them. Noah thought that he must have run to catch up with him, yet he didn't show any sign of it in his breath or posture as he approached him, which only made Noah aware of his own unhealthy habits.

"Can I just ask you to go away?" Noah managed to ask, unable to look at anything more than Sinclair's feet. He could just make out his red loafers amongst the leaves that had settled beneath his weight.

"I brought you this," Sinclair said.

Noah looked more out of instinct than his own rational mind; he wanted to hit himself for doing so. Sinclair might hurt him, he considered before his eyes fell upon the extended water bottle.

"Nearly run all this way, figured you might need a drink. You didn't touch your juice in the cafe either," Sinclair explained before he shook the bottle.

Noah cautiously took the water bottle, it was closed and he was thirsty. He carefully unscrewed it and heard all the tell-tale signs that it hadn't been tampered with before he took a small sip. He waited for Sinclair's laughter, some kind of taunt to occur, but nothing happened even after he took a few long drinks from the bottle.

"Do you prefer 'Noah' or 'Cooper'?" Sinclair asked as he walked into forestry, sitting down on a metal bench Noah hadn't noticed before. It didn't seem Sinclair minded the leaves, he sat right on them and didn't brush off the one that fell on his shoulder, Noah noted.

"What?" Noah replied, still unable to meet his eyes. He stared either beyond Sinclair and the ground, he couldn't decide which was worse. It only forced him to look between those two points, unable to stare at anything else. 

"Most of us call each other by our family names," Sinclair explained nonchalantly, "But both Mi Na and Spears said that you prefer 'Noah'."

After a moment, Noah nodded before he cautiously replied: "I...do."

"'Noah' it is then!" Sinclair said as if he were announcing something grand. "You can call me 'Hannil' then, or 'Hann' as my mum calls me—actually, do not call me that."