Miss Matched // Thomas Sangster Fanfiction

Chapter Eight - Dinner

Thomas feels himself starting to nod off at the dining table. His spaghetti and meatballs still sit on the plate in front of him, barely touched. The food here is supposed to be all homemade. It looks homemade, which is really nice, frankly. Although he's done much harder work before in his acting career, today still felt like the most draining, exhausting day.

Would he ever be able to live it down if he fell asleep in his spaghetti?

Probably not.

He picks up his silver fork and pushes his food around the white, glass plate, thinking about his day. After English, he went to World War History, French, and Trig. This succession of classes was broken up by a short lunch of mac n' cheese and potato chips (this wasn't a very healthy option, but if Thomas was going to live in America now, he might as well eat like an American), where he'd attempted to get a head start on homework. He didn't know how regular kids did it. He was ready to set the place to flames after his first day.

And he hadn't even really started on all the brain-dead, filler homework he's been assigned already. Basically just assignments that are supposed to help the teacher know how much their students understand about their school subjects. "A necessary evil" is what his Trig teacher called it. By the time he finished dinner, though, he'll only have three hours to accomplish his homework, have a little downtime and shower before bed.

Dylan slides into the seat across from Thomas, his plate piled high with spaghetti and garlic bread and a glass full of apple juice to go with it. Without saying anything, Dylan starts digging into his food ravenously. It takes Dylan a few moments to notice Thomas staring at him.

Quickly chewing and swallowing his food, with a bright red face, Dylan asks, "I'm cool to sit here with you, right?"

Thomas has a difficult time hearing Dylan over the din in the rest of the dining hall. There's a ton of noisy teenagers in here, absolutely bouncing around in their seats after their first day of school. Thomas cannot relate.

Surely he didn't have so much energy when he was fourteen, right?

"Huh? Yeah, of course."

"Oh, good. Sorry, it's just...you were giving me a weird look."

Thomas raises his eyebrows, teasing him moderately, "I've just never seen someone eat like it's their first meal ever."

Dylan shrugs, offering a small grin, "I'm starving, dude."

"I don't know how you have the energy for food. All I want to do is sleep."

"You get used to the schedule eventually." Dylan shoves another fork-full of noodles in his mouth again, "How was your first day, anyway?"

Thomas sighs, running his hands through his hair and tugging a little, before he answers, "I don't think I can read all the books the teachers want us to read this year."

Dylan barks out a short laugh, "It won't be so bad. Trust me."

"Yeah, that's what you said about this school too."

"Which books are you dreading in particular?"

"The Diary of Anne Frank for one," Thomas cringes, trying not to think about how bleak World War II was.

Dylan hums, raising an eyebrow, "Not The Book Thief? That one is supposed to be super depressing."

"It was World War II. Everything was depressing." Thomas grumbles.

"Everyone loves romanticizing war, though." Dylan says, taking another bite of his food.

Thomas gives Dylan a tired but playful look, "I don't have the energy for a deep conversation right now."