Public Knowledge (Sweet Pea x Reader)

The Routine

Tutoring Sweet Pea got much easier after the first week. Of course there were still outbursts, but the longer you spent together, the more predictable they became. You could expect a rant and/or flipped furniture every time he had to:

Transition between ideas
Write a conclusionAdd a works cited page
Deal with getting a low grade

The rant would begin with how ridiculous English class was and how he'd never need to write an in depth character analysis in real life and then transition into him analyzing whoever was pissing him off the most at the moment: Reggie Mantle, Mr. Weatherbee, Archie Andrews, even you.

But most of the time, most of the time, Sweet Pea was the ideal student. He wanted your feedback and discussed his ideas and setbacks with a surprising amount of eloquence and insight considering how little he spoke in class.

"I like this," you said, finishing the essay and turning the computer back towards him. "Or, I like the idea of it, you know, that Laertes isn't just this raw nerve of a character but instead he's a rational, guardian of honor. I just feel like you could go more into depth."

Sweet Pea nodded, looking down at what he'd written. "Like how?"

"Well," you bit your lip, reading the first body paragraph again and trying to formulate your thoughts. "Like here," you said, pointing to a sentence. "You talk about how if he was truly led by his emotions he would have killed anyone he thought was associated with Polonius' death rather than just the person responsible. But wasn't he manipulated into killing Hamlet? How can you prove that it was a conscious decision or that killing for revenge can ever be reasonable?"

Sweet Pea looked at you as if you had suggested he break down the etymology of the word murder and crossed his arms. "Why? Isn't that obvious?"

"Um no. Because if I was saying what a reasonable character would have done, I'd say that he should not go all vigilante but instead have a public trial which defames Hamlet, embarrasses the crown, punishes the murderer for the crime, and makes you sympathetic and beloved in the eyes of the people."

He scoffed, "Of course you would, Northsider."

"Right, see!" you said, excitedly. "You see him different from me, so you need to explain that argument here. Using the text."

Sweet Pea made a quick note on his paper before stopping. "You don't think I should change it, do you. To argue that he should have let the king and queen handle it?"

You furrowed your brow. "No, why would you?"

"Because it's the right answer? I don't know." He shrugged, looking back down at the paper.

"You mean the Northside answer?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. "Nah, you write better if you actually believe what you're saying."

He looked at you for a brief second, squinting slightly as if trying to make sense of you before he turned back to what he was writing.

"When you're finished with that, I think we're good for the day. Other than that and the little things I mentioned before, there's not much else that I'd change or add. We can give it a final look on Thursday."

He nodded putting his pencil down and starting to pack up his stuff. You stood. The endings of your sessions were always awkward. It was weird that the minute you two walked out the door you didn't know each other. Towards the beginning you had staggered your leaving, but recently the two of you had left around the same time only to walk in the same direction and have to pretend like you hadn't just spent the past forty-five minutes alone in a classroom together. It was weird to have him hold the door for you as you left, unless someone was too close and then he let it close in your face. You kind of wanted to go back to the staggering. You kind of didn't.

"I've been thinking," Sweet Pea said, standing from his seat as the two of you made your way towards the door. "How much do I owe you?"

"Owe me?" you asked, pausing by the doorway, just out of sight from anyone who may be passing by.

"For the help," he clarified.

"Oh," you said, starting to worry your lip, only to catch yourself and stop. "I don't need anything."

"I'm not in the business of owing favors," Sweet Pea said, surprisingly stony. You furrowed your brow at him.

"I don't want any favors. It's fine, really. It helps me work on my own paper."

"That's it?" he asked, skeptically.

"I don't know, maybe you could get me a milkshake or something at Pop's. Not like a date or anything. I mean not that you're not...attractive or datable or whatever. I just like milkshakes, and I don't really want anything else and–"

"And Pop's is basically Riverdale High's after school care, so not really an option," Sweet Pea cut in, and you nodded.

"Right," your arms prickled with embarrassment. "No one can know. Right."

Sweet Pea was silent as he stood there in front of you. "I can do like five dollars a week? That's the price of a milkshake, right?"

"It's fine. Going alone to Pop's is just...sad. I don't need anything."

"You can't just go with your friends?"

"Sarah's a vegan and very anti-Pop's."

"And your other friends?"

"That's pretty much it," you shifted your weight to your other leg. "I know it's kind of shocking because I'm so calm and socially adept, but people just aren't really lining up to go out to Pop's with me. Chat in class sure but hang out outside of school..." you shrugged. "It's fine though. I don't really have tons of time anyway, with all the studying and homework and everything I have to do. And wow that makes my life sound pathetic and boring. It's not though. In case you were wondering..." you trailed off.

Sweet Pea just stood there, looking at you. Or, if you were honest, it felt like he was looking in to you. Trying to figure out what was going on in your head probably, and hell if you knew. It felt like whenever you opened your mouth and you weren't talking about school things just spilled out and you had no control over what those things were.

"I'll figure something out," he said, nodding at you before ducking out of the classroom and leaving you to wait there until you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore and it was safe to go home.