A steady yet inevitable decent (Erik)

[Dominique Chevalier]

Dom was failing English. Also Math. Also, most things. The one teacher he had who was at all ok with his progress was his Power Trainer, and he could hardly tell the difference between her being happy with him and her being pissed off. As a general rule, he assumed the latter, given his tendency to offer Ms de la Torres unprompted compliments. But you didn't get into collaee on your Meta Power training evaluation.

Looking over his notes, Dom's brow was scrunched up in frustration. He couldn't concentrate, and it was pretty clear from the number of times he'd just drawn things in the margins of the pages. Without Carter's talent, they were pretty basic doodles but they weren't going to help him cram.

And he couldn't exactly ask Carter for his notes. The twins weren't talking, for the longest time in their living memory. It was... uncomfortable in the dorms, to put it lightly. And with Lucy being impossible to be around for reasons that were emotive rather than rational and so, not up for discussion anyway.

Pushing aside the notes from math (he was never going to use the quadratic formula, who ever needed to use that stupid thing), with a pen clutched just that bit too tightly in his hand, Dom tapped the end of it against the table. He should have brought his stress balls.

[Erik Stewart]

Now that Erik knew Dominique wasn’t all that concerned with his social status, he felt more comfortable approaching him in public. He didn’t notice his tense shoulders or his terse expression until it was too late; contrary to the blond, he was in an alright mood that day, and it made him inattentive. He supposed he should have noticed when Dom didn’t look up once he was practically in his shadow, but he’d got that far, no sense in stopping now.

“Hey,” he said.

Erik wasn’t there to do school work, obviously. He was as insufficient at academics as Dominique and neither was he ace at power training, but he was so contrary he cared more about spreading frustration than he did about his own future. The only reason he held a book over his middle was because Oriel had asked for it.

When he didn’t get a response, Erik tilted his head to the side, in order to look at his face underneath that head of yellow hair. “Dom,” he said, as if he simply hadn’t heard him.

[Dominique Chevalier]

Ignoring someone was considered by most people, including Dom, to be pretty childish and stupid. He was ok with being childish and stupid sometimes, besides, who was going to tell him off? His brother?

A page of Madam Bovary was turned a little more forcefully then was strictly necessary, though that was the only indication. He hadn’t texted Erik (it was bizarre how southern accents could change the word ‘hello), no notes passed in classrooms, so why the hell did he have to appear now?

At the sound of his name, Dominique’s shoulders twitched up and down beneath his shirt, his eyes slid shut in a moment’s exasperation. “Putain!” he spat quietly, before turning to take in the previously identified intruder.

No frown or scowl, just heavy lidded exasperation was on his face as Dom’s eyes slid to the side to meet Erik’s. “What is it,” he said, in a way that suggested it should be nothing. He wasn't in the mood for talking, or anything else.

[Erik Stewart]

Erik didn’t exactly know what ‘putain’ meant, but he could infer from his tone that Dom probably wasn’t singing any praises.

Erik straightened up – slowly - and put the book down. His expression was still neutral (a benefit of the doubt extended only towards people he knew), but that half smile had been wiped from his face, and his blue eyes looked Dom up and down, openly scrutinizing. One of his hands rested on his hips.

“Who pissed in yer Cheerios?”

[Dominique Chevalier]

Getting back to his book, Dom ignored the less than happy look Erik was now fixing on him. He didn't try to read, because that was going to be fruitless, but he was perfectly happy to pretend he didn't exist until Erik moved away. Staying in his room would have been a smarter move, if only he could have found out if Carter was going to be there or not.

Again, childish. Again, Dom didn't care.

Why the hell did everything have to be so frustrating? It hadn't been like this last year.

"Fuck off, Erik," he said quietly, eyebrows raised as he tapped his pen against the table top again. "I'm not in the mood."

[Erik Stewart]

There was no pain in his face or his eyes, no flinch, but there was a subtle tightening of his lips and his shoulders. Erik wrinkled his nose, like he smelled something. “Y’don’t have t’be such a fuckin’ asshole,” he said.

He couldn’t fathom why Dom would blow him off. Aside from a singular exception, they’d mostly kept their personal lives separate…so Erik was forced to assume it was out of sheer spite or to save face or whatever else it was, and he gripped the book in his palm, preparing to take it up again and fuck right off.

“Fine,” he said.

[Dominique Chevalier]

If Erik had argued with him, or snapped, Dom would have had no problem with repeating himself, but the acceptance didn't sit right. Abandoning his pen, Dom drew a hand over his face slowly, dragging his mouth into a pulled grimace.

He put up a hand to halt, still not looking up.

"Wait," he muttered. It was not a word he used often, but Dom wasn't going to lie to himself and say his view, if not his opinion, of Erik had had to undergo a bit of a change with recent events. And who else did he have to talk to, anyway?

"It's been decided that I haven't shown adequate progress in my studies," Dom looked up at that, enough to take in the slight stiffening in Erik's shoulders and for his brows to come together slightly in response. That was something he'd think about later. "So it looks likely that I won't be graduating. Again." It felt strange to say it out loud, and for a moment Dom's jaw went tight as he looked back down to his books and useless notes. His frustration surged like an earthquake, and the terrakenetic scowled and smacked his hand down hard on the table with a quiet "fuck!"

Nothing this year had gone how it should.

[Erik Stewart]

Erik had half a mind to keep on going. He was so rarely in a good mood and it was easily soured at that. But he didn’t; that bang on the table gave him pause, and he waited, peering down at the top of Dom’s blond head.

At first that didn’t make sense to him. He had always assumed Dom would do well in school – he supposed he was just the type, being calm and collected, and rich, too. “You mean you’re failin’?” he said. “Can’t y’just bribe somebody?”

The comment was a vestige of his resentment. It came out in sort of a snap before he could stop it, and though he didn’t quite regret it, he still realized he’d been less than constructive. Erik relaxed his shoulders - lowered his hackles, so to speak. He shifted his weight so one of his hipbones rested against the side of his desk. Breathing out, he tried again.

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” he said, in a more library-appropriate tone. “I mean, I can’t do shit. I’m gonna be here forever.”

[Dominique Chevalier]

The rude tone in Erik's voice was, oddly, comforting. It was easier then trying to be polite, and his eyebrows rose. "Pity the staff aren't all guys," Dom replied coldly, "you could try to suck them off for a passing grade."

Like he'd buy a pass at this hell hole. He could just imagine Sean's face if his father offered to fund a new library and snorted to himself.

Frowning up at Erik, Dom shrugged. He disagreed on every statement, but he wasn't going to start arguing about what Erik could and thought he couldn't do. "It's kind of a big deal," Dom said, his voice rather quiet now, "for me. I don't," again, his hand raised to rub the back of his neck, "want to spend another fucking year with these idiots."

That was loud enough to earn a sharp look from the librarian, which was pointedly ignored as Dom heaved a sigh and shook his head, as if to shake it all off. "It's been a stupid fucking year," he added. "And I'm fed up with it."

[Erik Stewart]

Erik leaned in. “Y’don’t think I tried that already?”

He was joking, of course, but he kept a straight face. Erik pulled up a chair and plopped down next to him, drew it up and clasped his hands on his lap. He smelled faintly of lavender scented soap and, as always, cigarette smoke. A glint of a silver chain showed from underneath his shirt collar; he was usually wearing the thing, even though it was in the shape of a cross.

“Here’s what y’do. Y’take this whole fuckin’ year, and all these stupid fuckin’ idiots, an’ then y’grind ‘em all up an’ just –“ he gestured. “ - shit ‘em back out.”

Erik wasn’t exactly a self-help book. “That’s what I do.”

[Dominique Chevalier]

Dom's expression didn't so much as flicker as Erik sat down and listed off his advice. He didn't even blink until it was over, and then lent over and pressed one finger to Erik's mouth. "That," he said, "is not helpful to me right now, and it doesn't seem to be doing wonders for you."

Dropping his hand, Dom shook his head but, after a moment's reflection on just exactly what had been said, he couldn't help but smirk in amusement. "You're so vulgar," he said, a little laughter evident in his voice. It wasn't useful advice, not even slightly practical, and their , but it was enough to make him crookedly smile despite himself.

There was something just, hilariously absurd about Erik of all people honestly trying to comfort him. Given how much Dom had, and Erik didn't, it made so little sense.

Wiping a hand over his mouth, Dom managed to get his face back under control and braced his palms on the table. "So I take it you're not here to cram?" he asked, gesturing to the book. "Doesn't really suit the 'grind them up' idea."

[Erik Stewart]

Erik stopped when he put his finger on his lips, of course.

“Y’don’t believe me,” he said, when he dropped his hand. Cocking his head, he mirrored Dom’s smile, though his seemed wider and showed more teeth. Erik only shrugged his shoulders at the ‘vulgar’ comment; it was true, he wasn’t even going to bother refuting it, and he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, either.

“No. This’s just for a friend,” he said, glancing at the book. “I ain’t study r’ nothin’. I don’t think I got a grade above a C since…” he thought. “Hell, fourth grade. That must make y’feel a little bit better, don’t it?”

Erik couldn’t remember a time schoolwork didn’t feel like a load on his shoulders. It was full of classmates he didn’t care about and teachers he resented, to say nothing of the material.

[Dominique Chevalier]

"Maybe that's because you don't study or nothin'" Dom suggested, mimicking the southern drawl on the last syllable with mixed success. Despite what else he got up to, Dom had been decent enough at at least handing in his school work until a few months past. That had happened to be just too late to be able to pull off the credit points he needed.

Reaching out, Dom attempted to snag the book from Erik lazily, not really caring if he was stopped or not. "Who're you running errands for then?" he asked curiously. No point in saying that academic mediocrity wasn't exactly making him feel much better about his own sorry study state.

[Erik Stewart]

He cocked his head to the side. “Well what’s yer excuse? Yer all smart n’ shit. You probably don’t even need t’study.”

He’d heard of people who could do that, though they might as well have been mythical creatures to him. He didn’t know of any and he certainly wasn’t one of them. That was alright, though; Erik never seemed too concerned with his academic life in the first place…in fact, there were some days he even took pleasure in sowing frustration among the Hammel faculty.

Erik let the book go. It was a yellow paperback – looked more like a workbook than a novel or a resource. “Oh,” he said. “That’s for Oriel. He’s been missin’ from class a few days an’ th’ teacher said I should give it t’him.” Erik shrugged. “I was headin’ that way sometime soon anyways.”

He was blissfully unaware of their history; the name rolled off his tongue.

[Dominique Chevalier]

Dom scowled; he really didn't need a reminder that he should have been doing better. He'd get enough of that from his family. "Attendance," he said flatly, "and deadlines." Deadlines he had ignored and attendance that he didn't have because it just hadn't seemed to matter. It hardly seemed to matter now; it just was so fucking stupid.

Glancing at the book absently and seeing nothing interesting, Dom handed it back. "He can read?" he joked. Oriel was someone of no consequence, other than the fact he'd raised a fist to his brother. He'd heard about the commotion when he'd been hospitalised but had cared so little it had hardly registered.

He hadn't died. That was about the extent of his knowledge.

Glancing up at Erik, Dom was struck with what they were actually doing. Erik had come over to talk, and he hadn't suggested retiring to a room or broom closet or bathroom. "Are we hanging out?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is that what's happening right now?"