Earn’s eyes are fixed intently on a distant spot on the soccer field that’s a level down from their classroom, and Pete watches with knitted eyebrows as he heaves a barely audible sigh and plants his elbow on the windowsill. It’s become familiar to Pete over the past few months, this motion, and he waits for Earn’s next sigh – isn’t surprised when he barely blinks, as focused on the view outside as he is.
When Earn lets his chin fall onto his palm, it seems like he’s not in this classroom any longer, seems like their math teacher’s droning about logarithms is no longer reaching him, like the only things that Earn is seeing and hearing are the flurry of movement on the soccer field and the distant, familiar sounds of yelping and cheering as the boys from the class next door burn their recess period with impromptu matches of soccer.
Pete knows it’s not the matches that are drawing Earn’s attention away though. He’s known for a while – one and a half years, if he’s being precise. If he were any less of a friend to Earn, he wouldn’t have suspected anything. If he’d followed the longing movements of Earn’s eyes and the restless twitching of his fingertips any less, he wouldn’t have had the slightest clue that Earn was pining away for Noh like it was the hottest summer trend. But Pete’s a goner for Earn, and he’s really in no place to judge Earn for a crime that he’s equally guilty of.
Pete watches him out of the corner of his eye, promising himself that he’ll jostle Earn in just a minute to snap him out of what he’s now convinced is one of his Noh-induced trances. They’ve been occurring with increasing frequency as of late and the nagging little ache in Pete’s chest grows with every day that Earn smiles that dreamy little smile and fixes his eyes on Noh like he’s the only thing keeping him anchored.
The gentle morning sunlight shades Earn’s hair a glossy brown so dark that it looks almost black – it flops against his forehead messily and when Earn tilts his head down onto his palm, strands of fine hair tickle his nose. A smile tugs at the corners of Pete’s lips when Earn’s nose scrunches up in that unfairly adorable manner as he bats the offending strands of hair away. Pete wants to run his hands through the mess of brown-black; wants to test the length of it, and feel the silky coolness of Earn’s hair sifting between his fingers.
He’s done it twice before, on the pretext of checking if Earn’s hair had dried completely after they’d been caught in the rain on their way back to Pete’s house, and another time when he’d angled for a congratulatory pat on the head after the release of their exam results last year, but ended up running his hand through Earn’s hair instead. Pete has no excuse now, so he clenches his fingers into a loose fist and rests it back on his desk.
When their crabby old teacher begins taking his usual steps down the aisles between the desks to check if the students are doing their practices properly, Pete sighs and nudges Earn’s arm gently with an elbow.
When Earn doesn’t respond, eyes still fixed on Noh’s distant figure on the field and glittering peculiarly, Pete huffs out an irritated breath and elbows him in the sensitive notch between his ribs. It works. Earn’s elbow slips from its place on the window sill and his head wobbles in a panicky little movement before crashing down onto the desk.
The loud clatter catches the attention of their classmates and their teacher, and Earn shoots him a betrayed little glance amidst the hum of amused snorts and laughter.
“You weren’t listening.” Pete tells him. You haven’t been for months now, he thinks, not a little bitterly. “It’s no wonder you’re always lost during our study sessions.”
Earn’s gaze turns a little apologetic and he turns back to the practice worksheet laid out on his desk, blank and pristine, but not before he shoots one last longing glance towards the window. Pete bites his lip and shifts in his chair; turns away from Earn, trying to nurse the painful ache nagging somewhere deep inside his chest.
-
The thing is, Pete isn’t just attracted to Earn. It would have been way easier for him if that'd been the case, but it's so much more than that.
He has eyes of course, and he knows that Earn doesn’t have a cultish fan following in the convent and amongst the Angels in Friday College solely because of his affable personality – Pete has watched Earn grow up over the years, from a scrawny little freshman with a terrible bowl-cut and a head that was comically big on his small frame to an unfairly attractive third year with broad shoulders and biceps that strain against the sleeves of his uniform whenever he stretches.
Earn is good-looking, gorgeous even, Pete isn’t in denial about that, hasn’t been in denial since the week after Earn had come back from his summer camp, tanned and happy and breathtaking.
But Pete isn’t in love with Earn (it’d taken him a while to become comfortable with the word, love) because of his looks. He’d been drawn to Earn’s big heart first and foremost, the way he never kept quiet like Pete and all their friends often did, when he felt like someone was being wronged. Even when they’d been unattractive fourteen-year-olds, Pete’s heart had leaped in his chest whenever Earn had stepped in between a cowering boy from the Angel’s gang and the notorious bullies who’d habitually made easy prey of them.
He’d never cared that the bullies had been twice his size, nor that they would be able to send him to the hospital for a month or two (luckily, the worst he’d gotten away with was a black eye): the only thing that had mattered to Earn, that matters to Earn even now, is that no one in Friday is made a victim of bigotry. Pete had always been secretly awed at Earn’s conviction. He hadn’t understood why Earn felt so strongly about accepting people of different sexual orientations or genders – but he’s beginning to realize why now.
It’s personal for Earn, in a way. The only thing that’s as important to Earn as his belief in defending the odd ones out in his school is his devotion to a boy called Noh. Pete remembers when exactly they’d made friends with Noh – they’d all invariably heard about him before they'd met him in the flesh. Even back then, when he hadn’t been elected president of the Music Club yet, Noh’s repuation had preceded him and his name had been thrown around campus, in the midst of idle conversations, at least ten times a day.
Pete had thought the guy was pretty normal-looking, hadn’t really understood why he was so popular or well-liked.
But then Earn had been pulled into a soccer match with Noh and his notoriously mischievous gang of friends, spurred on by Ohm, and Pete had begun to realize what it was that was so special about Noh. His personality was magnetic, and that was lightly putting it. The way he spoke to people made it seem like they’d been friends for ages, even if they’d only met on that very day.
Pete had watched the veritable stars form in Earn’s eyes that afternoon, as the sun had beat down mercilessly on their sweating heads, and felt his throat go dry as Noh had offered Earn a clap on the back and a pull from his cup of Fanta Grape.
He hadn’t realized it then, but that would be the beginning of several long years of pining and adulation from afar, at least on Earn’s side. Then again, Pete hadn’t realized at that moment either, that watching Earn pine away for a boy who’d never be his would hurt him so much.
Earn’s in a bad place now, Pete knows without him having to tell him. He’s oddly quiet during Cheer meetings and none of the usual easy smiles that’d endeared him so much to Pete and half of the school population, come easily or frequently. Pete is pretty sure that the reason for him being this downtrodden is rejection from Noh.
He doesn’t like to think about it too much, because thinking about Earn being rejected would mean that he’d have to reflect on Earn confessing his love to Noh, and he has to bite his lip to ignore the prickling, sore sensation inside of him as images of a shiny-eyed Earn attempting to articulate two years worth of love to Noh, of Earn leaning in and brushing his lips agains-
Pete shakes his head violently, not caring that his hair is probably a mess now. And determinedly continues making his way across the corridor, blocking out thoughts of Earn’s eyes, concocted images of Noh and Earn locked in an intimate embrace.
It hasn’t been a good day for him, or a good week even. Having to act as a bridge between a reticent Earn and the rest of their friends has taken a toll on him, and having to collaborate with Fee to organize their upcoming holiday camp for the freshmen has been physically draining. All this apart from his own more personal matters: like how he couldn’t make eye-contact with Earn without wanting to touch his soft hair and tell him that it’d be okay, that they were just teenagers and there were other fish in the sea, that Pete had his back.
Lost in his thoughts as he is, he doesn’t notice where he’s heading and it’s too late for him to swerve out of the way when a solid form comes barreling into him headfirst, as he turns the bend round the corridor. His head bumps against someone’s jutting and very hard chin and his arms pinwheel for a second or two as he feels himself swaying first, and then falling backwards almost in slow-motion.