BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

11 - charlie watts

No one really requested this, but I've been in dire need of some Charlie content on this site so I decided to create it myself!
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The writing on the chalkboard swam before your eyes. Drooping with sleep, you propped your chin up with a hand. You had tried to pay attention to the lesson at first, but Mrs. Walker had a way of lecturing that really got to you. Especially when you were tired.

Your eyelids threatened to shut for good when she lapsed into another droll explanation of math that had always been far to complicated for you to properly understand. The numbers Mrs. Walker had written on the board made no sense and you gave up trying to make sense of them.

There was only one reason why you looked forward to your math class, and that was Charlie.

Ever since you had first seen him at the beginning of the year, you hadn't been able to shake the magnetic pull that kept your searching glimpses at the back of Charlie's head. Never to his face. You were far too shy for that.

Overall, Charlie was rather quiet in class other than the occasional sarcastic reply to one of Mrs. Walker's questions. He was completely unbothered with the world around him, what other people thought. Charlie had given Mrs. Walker a tight-lipped smile and a loll of his head – brave in his insolence.

She had barely given Charlie a slap on the wrist, seemingly at a crossroads about what punishment would truly affect him the most.

You admired Charlie's will. His nonconformity. It was refreshing.

Maybe one day you would speak to him, but it wouldn't be anytime soon. You couldn't find your words when you were near him. You'd lost track of the times you had chickened out at the last second, let Charlie walk out of the room without so much as a hi.

"Y/N? Trigonometry isn't for sleeping," Mrs. Walker snapped, smacking her ruler on your desk.

You gasped, startled out of your daze. A few kids around you chuckled, though not loud enough to incur Mrs. Walker's wrath. Her eyes bore down at you with a burning wickedness – waiting gleefully for you to say the wrong thing.

Instead of addressing her, you sat up in your seat and straightened your books and pencils out. You wouldn't let her have the pleasure of shaking you up.

"I see. Now that you're so alert, would you mind telling the class what the answer to question twenty-seven is?" Mrs. Walker asked, her voice dripping with a false sweetness.

You froze, frantically scanning the board again and again for any clue. The problem there was left unfinished and Walker's writing was mere chicken scratch to you.

The thud of your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You ducked your head to scan the sheets of paper on your desk, but they were all blank save for the occasional doodle. You gulped, gathering yourself. You wouldn't act like a fool, not in front of Mrs. Walker, not in front of Charlie.

"Uh," you said. "It's –"

"Three hundred and forty six, right, Y/N?"

You whipped around along with everyone else in the classroom at the sound of Charlie's voice. He was grinning, obviously biting back laughter. His eyes met your own from across the room, dancing with mirth.