All the academics are over with, now it's just creative writing and basketball left. Tyler has another class with Ryan, but no one else he knew that well, so just imagining a class with only him is mysterious. Ryan is probably a lot like Tyler all by himself, quiet and awkward. As they walk down the hallway and up the stairs side-by-side, Tyler already noticed some points of similarity. The way he looks around, the expression on his face changing slightly every few seconds as if having a conversation or having a lecture in his mind.
"Anything you expect out of this class?"
Tyler pretended not to notice these things that Ryan could likely be insecure about.
"I wanna...learn to write lyrics better, mostly."
Ryan closed his eyes and nodded. "Same here. But that's not what this class is about."
"But from what I've heard, you're already so good."
"There's always a place for improvement. I also wanna write stories. I've got one in mind, I just need the right words."
Tyler says to himself, "guess I should've taken music theory instead."
They walk into class. The room is so much more decorated than every class they've ever seen. There's string lights on the ceiling, tapestries on the walls, lamps in every corner, and couches under the projector screen reading "Mr. Ward: Creative Writing" with their own end table. The main overhead lights weren't even on.
Tyler turned towards Ryan once again and watched his whole face light up in amazement. Tyler could safely assume that this was going to be Ryan's favorite class, all year, no matter what, but the room will become less of a spectacle as they visit it for 48 minutes every day.
The desks are aligned in rows like every other classroom, and there's only five other students in the classroom. They get desks on the far left of the room, furthest from the door, closest to the teacher.
"I'll be the teacher's pet in a day." Ryan enthused.
"You haven't even seen him yet!"
"I like his style."
A boy with short, messy brown hair all dressed in plain clothes walked into class and maneuvered his way to the left side of the room. He wore a solid black t-shirt, normal blue jeans with no damage, and blue Converse, sits in the desk behind Ryan. The boy taps Ryan's shoulder, making him turn around. Tyler recognized him from this morning, he's the boy Ryan referred to so much and knew him better than Tyler did.
"Hey, Pete!" Ryan greeted.
Ryan's better friend, Pete. Tyler figured Ryan would only talk to Pete, turning around every two minutes to do so. But since they're so close to the teacher, they would more likely all sit in silence most of class instead.
The bell rings to start class, and the teacher walks in. He's not dressed as gratuitously as his room is decorated.
"Good afternoon. I'm Mr. Ward, your new favorite teacher."
The class let out a light chuckle.
"I'm serious! This class gives you more creative freedom than you'll ever need."
This will definitely be better than English, where everything related to everything somehow and you're required to write a one-page essay about it.
"Instead of starting with the syllabus like every teacher and their mother already has, I'll pass out notecards to each of you. You must write your preferred name on the top left corner, today's date, and the class period. Then on the rest you must write two facts about yourself. I made a diagram on the whiteboard to your right, and if you can't see it, feel free to move."
Mr. Ward went back to his desk, passed out the notecards, and the class got to work.
Tyler wrote the required information at the top, then just stared at it. What kind of facts? Interesting facts, like his abnormally shaped thumbs, or mundane facts, like the fact he plays basketball?
He wrote down that he plays the ukulele. That's more interesting than basketball, and less strange information than his thumbs. The other fact might have to be the one about his thumbs, though. It's not like anyone else will see this card, and all his friends know what his thumbs look like.
He finished, turned the card over and looked at Ryan's desk. He was done long before Tyler, with the overturned card right in the center of the desk. He was looking at his phone discreetly under his desk, with the brightness turned down. Tyler looked behind him, at Pete, who was still thinking about what to write.
A couple more minutes passed before Mr. Ward collected the cards, and then the inevitable syllabus/supply list. This was the last class Tyler had to sit in a desk for, then basketball, then he can go home with Josh.
Ryan tapped his shoulder, less aggressively than this morning when Tyler fell asleep in physics. "Hey Tyler, after the last bell, where do you exit from?"
Tyler took his folded schedule out of his back pocket, opened it halfway and read "Gym 2" after "COACH HARRIS" on his schedule. "The...East exit?"
"Where the gyms are?"
"Yeah."
"Dang. I'm still all the way back here."
"Today I drove Josh here and I'll take him back, and he's in the band hall, which isn't far from me."
"That's good."
Pete jumped in the conversation. "I've been across the building from this guy all day." He points at Ryan. "We can't take each other for rides now."
"You ride with Patrick now, right?"
"Uh-huh."
"So no problem. Be lucky we have this class."
"Yeah."
***
After class, Tyler has to walk all the way to the east wing where his last two classes are.
Choir, again, for the third year in a row, with Brendon, the natural leader of the varsity choir two years in a row, and Patrick, who after sharing two years of choir with still didn't know all that well.
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True Colors (joshler, multi-fandom)
Fanfiction[Completed!!] Tyler and Josh have been best friends since elementary school. Entering their junior year of high school, they remain inseparable, but have made lots of friends since the start of high school. A little ways through the first semester...
