IT Imagines & Preferences

Mike

It was the first day of school, and like other kids, everyone had their schedules out trying to find their classes. Same for you. It was ridiculous, the rooms were numbered strangely, always had been. And it pissed you off. You rounded a corner on your way to second period and accidentally ran face-first into another kid. "Sorry," you muttered through an embarrassed smile, and he did the same. "I have a question," he cut in. You only shrugged. He pulled out his schedule and stepped towards you, holding it out. "Can you help me find this class?" Craning your head, you saw some familiar names on the list teaching wise. 

"Wait, lemme see your schedule. Do we have any classes together?"

"Oh! We actually have fourth and sixth together!"

"What are the classes? I don't really know my way around the school," Mike said sheepishly.

"Oh, well this is Home Economics," you pointed, "and this one is English. I can show you around if you want. I got nowhere to be." He nodded, smiling. "Yeah, that sounds cool. Thanks."

By the second month of school, you and Mike had grown unusually close to each other. The perfect dynamic duo. Teachers had even changed seating charts for you two.  So close, that you'd visit his family's farm and help out around the fields every now and then, his dad driving you around in his red pickup truck while you and Mike sat in the bed with his siblings. His parents were the nicest people you could ever meet. And your favorite member of the family beside them was and will always be Mr. Chips. You'd always feed him extra fries you got from the diner back in town even though Mrs. Hanlon hated it when you did it. Eventually, you had to get crafty with your tactics.

Not only did you have to get crafty with your feeding schemes, but you also had to get smart with your schedule as well. Before school, you and Mike would meet up in the school library and just talk idly. Then, in between classes you would try to meet up in the hallways and try to get in as much conversation as you could before parting. In English, you'd sit as close as you could without getting questioned and touch knees or elbows under the table enjoying the presence of each other while listening to the teacher talk. You'd even help him with stuff after school. Anything he was struggling with that you slightly understood, you'd try to help him with it, and it would end in nothing but smiles and giggles because he'd always marvel at how smart you were, and you'd be so proud at how smart he was when he'd excel at something he claimed not to be. 

Towards the middle of the year though, things started getting frustrating, with midterms and all, you and Mike were spending less and less time together. Winter break was coming up and teachers were assigning more essays and more homework with several parts to every question. People were getting on your nerves more and more and you kept going home instead of going with Mike to get away from it all. If anything, you forgot he existed at all. That is until Mike invited you to go to the annual Derry festival. Being on the phone with another person kind of shocked you, and suddenly you remembered that you'd only been to the festival once. Staring at the loose paper piled in front of you, you shook your head and thought, what's the worse that could happen.

That festival was definitely a break you needed. Four essays and god knows how many pages of homework, you and Mike were playing a good game of ski ball. It was pissing you off cause you kept getting right beneath the winning middle shot, but whatever, it was fun. You remembered being so bent about school, that when you and Mike were at the top of the Ferris wheel, the stress switched on like a light and you started crying. Mike didn't know what to do. He tried squeezing your hand, talking you down, stroking your hair. It wasn't until he wrapped his arms around you and gave you a tight hug that the tears subsided. Eyes red, the Ferris wheel creaked to a stop, and you hopped off, the warmth of the low ground hitting nicely. It was close to Thanksgiving and the air got colder by the day. You rubbed your arms and kept walking, telling Mike to brush it off.

"But, can you at least tell me what's wrong? Then I'll let it go," he worried. You stopped and whipped around to face him with red-rimmed eyes. "It's not you, I promise. It's just-" rubbing your hands over your face, you continued. "It's just I'm freaking out cause I feel like I'm not gonna graduate, you know, I'm missing credits, my assignments are always late and wrong at that, and no matter how hard I try, I just can't get it right, and that is so gonna mess me up." He pursed his lips, not really knowing what to say. To be honest, this wasn't really the time and place to be sad when he thought about. Who cries over their grades at a carnival? He dismissed the thought and tried to calm you down. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around your neck while quiet tears streamed down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs and linked your arms together, walking to buy you some cotton candy and warm pastries.