The Deep End

It was grueling; a task so difficult Alan thought his brain was going to start sweating.

Algebra.

What was up with X? He was seiously considering reporting his Maths teacher to the police because this was child cruelty in the purest form.

He groaned and attempted to get out of his chair, artfully dodging the gaze of the mirror, he dreaded to think what he looked like, he already had a stack of problems, worrying about his appearance was one he would rather avoid. Emotional stress was probably the worst look on a person.

One look at the clock and holy fuck how was it 11:51 pm already?

He couldn't bear another pained glance at the question, so he sat cursing whoever made Algebra part of the curriculum, what sadist would force this crap upon a child?

Next thing he knows there is a random dudes face just outside his window and the whole situation is terrifyingly akin to that in a horror film. He inhales rather loudly, praying that it was a nice serial kil-

Austin Carlile. It was Austin fucking Carlile.

Shoving the window open, he shouts into the open night:
"What the fuck was that?! I thought some serial killer had come to rip me to pieces and make me into a fucking jigsaw puzzle."

Austin snorted, hauling himself into Alan's bedroom and forcing Alan's window shut. (He made sure Alan's head was safely inside first, otherwise he would be a murderer.)

Alan is internally cursing because fucking. not. this. again.

"Quite the drama queen, aren't you?" Only amusement was displayed on his features. Austin continued, "I'm pretty sure you woke up Mrs. Turner who lives opposite, she is probably spying on us now with those binoculars of hers." He joked, not knowing how agitated Alan got from the thought of people knowing he let Austin into his room at ungodly hours of the night, they were probably thinking they were doing ungodly things too.

The whole 'joking' thing backfired rather rapidly because Alan was close to hyperventilating in three seconds.

Austin had hold of Alan's arms and was telling him to calm down, he started to rub circles on his arms in a soothing way, and Alan just kind of melted and used Austin as a support.

"Why are you up so late? I thought you had school tomorrow?" He asked, peering at Alan's face that was practically embedded in Austin's shoulder.

"Can't do fucking algebra." Alan sighed, remembering his frustration for such a topic. Austin guided him to sit on his bed, before grabbing his books from the desk and shuffling next to Alan on the bed. Alan gazed at him with a flustered expression painting his features, before mumbling. "Umm, what are you doing?"

"Helping you with your maths homework." He beamed.

Well, Austin might as well be his fucking night in shining armour right now.

"Okay, then." Alan muttered, trying to ignore how their arms were touching, and so were their hips, and now he thought about it, so were their le-

"Alan?" Austin was flailing his arm in front of his eyes, trying to gain Alan's attention. "Huh? Oh, sorry." Alan blushed, holy fuck he must look so fucking whipped right now. He wondered if there were classes where they taught you to act less gay. He could tell that he definitely needed it.

Austin began explaining the whole method of factorising quadratic equations like he had won a fucking nobel prize on the subject, and for once in his life, Alan actually understood it.

It had only taken twenty minutes and Alan was now completing the question on his own.

Now it was done, and Alan and Austin were still well into each other's personal space on Alan's fucking bed. Alan prayed that he didn't start heaving.

"Well, looks like I got to go now, see you later." Austin whispered.
"Oh, yeah, I guess." Alan probably looked more disappointed then he should have been. "Bye then."

Austin was climbing out of his window after quickly pecking Alan on the forehead, and giving him a smile before disappearing from his sight.

Just like that, Alan was snoring lightly; curled up into Austin's hoddie that lay forgotten.