You first see Tom a few weeks into the term. He’s in the library with a hat pulled over his eyes and a snuggly uni jumper pulled over his body, hunched over notes from his hardest class. You decide against introducing yourself, instead going and buying him a coffee because he looks thoroughly exhausted.
You go over to his table tentatively, clearing your throat, and he looks up with tired eyes as you speak, “I got you this.” You shyly place it on the desk and slide it over to him, before reaching up to put some hair behind your ear.
“I’m, uh, you’re-” you stutter and he holds his breath because he knows this cute girl is about to mutter ‘Spider-Man’, just like everyone else does, but when you finish with the words, “my student mentor,” he lets out a huge sigh of relief, followed by a small chuckle.
You suddenly feel a little self-conscious because he’s laughing at you, as if you weren’t nervous enough about talking to him in the first place. Not because he’s Spider-Man, but because he’s the cute boy you’ve had a crush on since your very first day.
When he sees your frown, he’s quick to reassure you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t- nevermind, hi I’m Tom.”
You drop your head to smile shyly at your shoes before facing back up to look at him. In a soft voice, you introduce yourself and Tom can’t help but grin a little at your name, because it seems to perfectly suit you.
“Would you want to join me?” He asks, gesturing to the empty table in front of him.
“No, I don’t want to interu–”
“You wouldn’t be!” Tom says a little too quickly before letting out a nervous laugh, “I mean- I’ve got all this room…”
“Alright,” you nod, and he pulls the chair out next to him, despite the fact that there’s plenty of other chairs around the table that you could have sat at. You slide in next to him anyway and sigh, feeling a little awkward and out of your depth now.
“Thanks for the coffee by the way,” he takes a sip and smiles, and you feel immediately a little more at ease.
“I didn’t know if you wanted coffee or tea, you look like a tea kind of guy but then I thought you looked so tired, so I figured coffee, not that you look rough or anything-” Tom chuckles again because you’re rambling with your nerves and he thinks it’s cute.
“Coffee is perfect, thanks love,” he takes another sip and places it down, before smoothing out the papers in front of him, and you watch him tentatively for a second, noting the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s confused by something in his notes, but then he looks up at you and you immediately scramble for your own books out of your bag.
He gives you a soft smile. You’re like a flustered chicken, squabbling about with your belongings, trying to get them in some sort of order for you to work.
He really wants to fill the sudden silence but he also wants to learn everything about you, like why you picked a black backpack or why you were wearing two different socks, but then he realises that you came here to get work done, so he couldn’t be distracting you. He just gives you a closed lip smile when you two accidentally meet eyes and goes back to his work.
You work in silence for a little while, occasionally stealing glances at each other when you’re sure that the other isn’t looking, until you realise that you actually could do with some help. You clear your throat in hopes that he’ll look up, which he does, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
“Um could you just explain this part to me?” You point it out on your page and he slides closer to you to get a better look. You feel his arm brush yours as he does, and he looks straight at you. The sun is shining harshly through the window opposite him, and he squints a little, but it gives you the opportunity to notice the different flecks of brown in his eyes.
“Yeah, were you in class for the last lecture?” He asks but he already knows the answer. It’s easier for him to notice the people who don’t pay much attention to him when everyone else does. “Where we compared Romeo and Juliet to Taming of the Shrew?”
Of course you were there and of course you remember what he’s talking about. How could you forget when he made the smartest remark in class?
“To be honest, professor, I think Romeo and Juliet’s anti-feminist morals is the biggest juxtaposition to Taming of the Shrew, which has been argued by feminist scholars that it is feminist.”
You had practically sighed in adoration, just like every other girl in class did.
“Uh, yep. Think I made it to that one,” you say, trying to play it cool.
“Okay so that’s essentially all you need to say just here,” he points towards the essay you’ve been writing, “and then I think you’re done.”
He smiles brightly at you and you stare back at him for a second. It feels as though his gaze is burning into yours, so you drop your head back to the table, reading furiously through your work.
“Are you sure? I feel like there isn’t enough?” You run a hand through your hair nervously and he nods, “You- uh, I mean, it’s perfect.”
He lifts his drink back to his lips again and you try to ignore the fact that he very nearly called you perfect, writing everything that you remember him saying.
A little later, you finally decide you’re finished and you begin to gather your things. Tom looks up with a frown.
“Leaving so soon?” He asks and you nod, “I’m all done.”
He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and then bites down on it, as if he’s contemplating something. His next words shock you.
“Would you maybe uh, maybe want to go and get a drink with me?”
“Oh.” You don’t mean for it to be rude, you’re just surprised. Didn’t he have something better to do?
“I don’t mean t–”
“No, I’d love to go!” You smile and notice him breathe out a sigh of relief.
“There’s a pub a few blocks down,” he informs you, shutting his laptop and forcing things into his bag quickly. “You fancy going there?”
“Sure,” you shrug. Everyone knows the pub is pretty shit but the beer is cheap. “Let’s go.”
eleven at night and Courfeyrac and Bahorel are singing. Houcheloup has given up
on telling them not to by now. The Musain is empty apart from them anyway. That
tends to happen when they come in as a group.
is sprawled out on one of the leather couches with Enjolras in his arms. He is
almost used to this by now. Almost.
watching his friends perform with a happy smile diffused over his face.
smiles too and closes his eyes for a moment. He is completely comfortable, apart
from Enjolras’ hair tickling his face and he leaves that because the idea that that could be his only problem at any
given moment is as hilarious as it is ridiculous. Enjolras mumbles something he
can’t quite hear and he opens his eyes again. “Hm?” he hums.
know if Feuilly is still coming?” Enjolras repeats.
he is on his way,” Grantaire replies.
this time, is sleepily dancing and swaying to Bahorel’s guitar play. That is
quite a feat, because it is not a song that encourages gentle swaying.
complete then,” Enjolras says approvingly.
glances to a similar couch where Joly and Bossuet are sitting with a very
tired, but triumphant Marius, who just got through an infamous law exam.
Bossuet is still complimenting him.
much,” Grantaire hums.
shifts his weight and cuddles into Grantaire a little more. He grins, taking
the hint and beginning to gently stroke Enjolras’ hair. Enjolras makes what he
would describe as ‘an appreciative sound’, but that everyone else calls ‘that
purring thing Enj does’. Grantaire doesn’t call it anything, he just considers
it his favourite sound in the world right now. He makes eye contact with
Combeferre over the top of Enjolras’ head and grins. Combeferre rolls his eyes
and looks away with a smile.
“Want me to
wake you when Feuilly arrives?” Grantaire teases.
falling asleep,” Enjolras protests and he tries to turn around in Grantaire’s
arms to give him an indignant look.
tightens the arm he has around Enjolras’ waist. “No, stay,” he whines.
It was the holidays season That means getting to visit my family for a few days and getting along with each other while sharing multiple stories from my university life while my brother tells stories about him touring with his bestfriend.
“Oh and my roommate was a total bitch,” I continued but my mom scolding me, “Y/N! language.”
genre: mostly angsty, a tiny bit of fluff. im sorry eek
a/n: tbh i don’t know what this is. i don’t kno wherE THIS came from i was trying to write ILYSB part 5 and i was listening to jungkook’s cover of fools late last night and i felt super angsty and this just caME OUT i’m sorry if this lw breaks ur heart but :~) lmk what u think ahhh
word count: 3151
The first time you remember feeling pain was when you were seven and your dad had made your older brother teach you how to ride a bike, but he really really just wanted to play on his Nintendo, so he reluctantly got you on a bike at the park next to your house, and simply, pushed, focusing his attention back to his rectangular screen.
You remember being one with the wind, flying and flying, until you realized you didn’t know how to pedal and suddenly you were face first on the ground with a scratch on your forehead that had everyone calling you “Harry Potter!” for weeks.
Eventually the scar faded, the name faded, and even your anger towards your brother had faded and everything was alright again.