"Jordan?"
". . ."
"Jordan."
". . ."
Charlie cocked an eyebrow at Jordan, pushing against Jordan's sleep-like-the-dead body.
"Wake up, you twit."
"Stop that, please."
Charlie stiffened. It was the rough tone that came from Jordan, the tired mumble, and especially the "please" that set the alarms off.
"What happened?"
Jordan's eyes opened, the hazel absorbing the yellow coloring from Charlie's lamp, making them shine.
"Do you mind if I take a nap?"
"Jordan, what -"
"Charlie, I'm really not in the mood to explain this all to you."
Charlie kind of wanted to take offense to that tacked on "to you", but the pity overpowered any animosity.
"You can't stay the night," Charlie said quickly. Immediatley a blush came on Charlie's cheeks, heat wreaking havoc with the lie: if Jordan really needed somewhere to stay, this place would always be there.
"I never said I wanted to."
Charlie shrugged.
"Go to sleep."
It was as if Charlie's words were of magic, because Jordan simply slumped over onto the rug, completely out.
Charlie's eyes were wide, almost believing that Jordan just died. Charlie reached a hand out, about to rest it on Jordan's back and shake.
Then Jordan took a deep breath, and Charlie relaxed.
Jordan's backpack had its contents spewed all over the floor, and Charlie could see the little folder that was labeled assignments. There had to be five sheets in that little folder, and not a single one of them was done - they only had Jordan's name on them, no date.
Charlie grabbed the folder and grabbed a notebook. Mimicking Jordan's name onto the notebook page until the signature was so close the teacher would never be able to tell, Charlie decided that the penmanship was close enough and began to work on the assignments.
Charlie didn't have any work to do anyways. And besides, looking at Jordan, Charlie was aware - oh so aware - that Jordan needed any and all help, at least for now.
