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Going from a strict military schedule to the lackadaisical march of college was a little bit of a whiplash, in Stanley’s opinion. He still got up early, did his routines the same way as always but instead of reporting to a superior, or pouring over the schedule given to him, he simply got ready for…really nothing. Going back to schooling wasn’t something he ever thought he would do, but after his term was up in the military he simply had no idea what to do next. He wanted to re-up his term, but his supervisor not so subtly hinted that he needed to find something else to do with his life.
“You are still young, Snyder. Go find someone to marry, travel, use that skill of yours for creation. You are wasting your talents here.”
Stanley shook the memory from his head as he opened the lecture hall door, the fluorescent lights making his head slightly hurt. It was quite obvious that he was older than the rest of his classmates, going back to college had its perks and its downsides. One downside is that Stanley was stuck in freshman level classes and painfully aware he was a generation older than his peers. He marched his way to the end of the hall, sliding into a tiny desk in the back and pulling out his laptop. The professor hadn’t seemed to have appeared yet, the others in the class idly talking amongst themselves. He idly checked his emails, then his assignments, then back to his email, watching the clock in the corner of his screen hit 3:15pm.
The door slammed open as soon as the clock turned, prompting Stanley to look up.
Tactful as always, Stanley mused, tapping his finger on the desk.
The professor, clothed in a button up and black pants, let the door fall shut behind him, the old wood creaking as it clicked shut. When Stanley first attended this class, he had noted the professor was closer in age to himself, not older in age like the other professors Stanley had encountered. Despite the premature white hair that was neatly slicked back, he had a youthful face, dark undereye circles and a mouth set in a permanent line. The frown almost always on his face contradicted his enthusiasm for teaching, the gleam in his eye teaching something as boring as Physics I did offput Stanley at first.
Now, six weeks into the semester, Stanley chocked it up to the professor's own quirks, reminding him of an old soldier that had an over enthusiasm for engines and nothing else. He tried not to sleep his way through the lecture, slowly typing and sketching out formulas on his notepad, more intently watching the time than anything else. He clicked his laptop shut as the lecture wrapped up, sighing as he zipped up his backpack.
He let the rest of his classmates filter out after him, standing up from his desk as the final teenager swept through the doorway. Oddly, the professor had lingered behind, idly straightening his lecture notes and flipping through the paper assignments they had turned in at the beginning of the lecture. Weaving around the desks, Stanley was halfway out the door before he heard his name.
“Stanley,” the professor said, turning to look at him. Stanley noticed he had two bridle collars holding the neck collar of his shirt together.
“Yes? Am I missing an assignment?” Stanley leaned back on his heels, gripping at the strap of his bag.
“No, not at all,” the professor replied, sliding the assignments into his leather crossbody. “I am wondering how you are fairing.”
“Fairing? I am not sure what you mean Professor Wingfield.”
“Well, no offense Stanley, you are older than the rest of the class,” Wingfield shrugged, clearly not caring if it actually offended the blonde or not. Stanley sighed, bag sliding off his shoulder to the floor with a heavy thump.
“I am doing fine, but thanks for your concern,” Stanley politely responded, opting not to note that the professor seemed a little too young for his teaching peers.
“Why such a late start to academia, if I can pry,” Wingfield asked, closing his bag. “You are quite smart and learn very quickly so it can’t be an intelligence problem.”
“I was in the military, Marines to be specific,” Stanley decided not to tell him anymore, hoping that the white haired professor wouldn’t inquire much further. He had a lecture to attend in twenty minutes.
The professor hummed, long nails tapping the brown leather of his bag. A silence fell over the pair, Stanley reaching down to grab his bag that had fallen to the floor.
“I thought so, given you are my age,” the professor remarked as Stanley heaved his heavy bag back on his shoulder. Stanley cocked an eyebrow at the remark, giving the man a quick once over.
So he is young. Well, relatively young compared to other professors.
“Well, thank you for letting me pick your brain, Stanley. Enjoy the rest of your day,” the professor dismissed, giving a wave as he grabbed his crossbody.
Stanley nodded, pushing open the lecture hall door and stepping into the musty hallway. He felt the professor’s black eyes follow him out the door.
=
Old habits die hard and with that sentiment, Stanley sat at a dive bar nursing a cheap liquor that tastes like rubbing alcohol. It was one of the only bars in the city that allowed indoor smoking, and the classiness of that lack of a rule shown through.
The countertop was permanently sticky, the yellow lights of the fifty year old hanging lights flickered often. The wood floor was worn and slick, random rag rugs covering particularly nasty segments of the flooring. The joint itself was small, squeezed between two lively restaurant/bar businesses, leaving it to take in the students that couldn’t get into the classier joints on either side. Stanley didn’t mind, the bar usually was mostly empty, the occasional younger student would wander in then quickly leave when seeing the state of the joint. Stanley himself sat at the countertop, elbow resting on the sticky lacquered bar top, lazily looking at the outdated decor that hung on the nicotine stained walls.
“Do you want another?” the young bartender asked, black and white hair glowing under the yellow lamp of the bar.
“Not at the moment,” Stanley replied, pulling the cigarette from his lips. “Are you bored? Usually you don’t hang around me this much, Gen.”
“What? I can’t chat with you?” the bartender, Gen, laughed. His painted nails rhythmically tapped the bartop, his offhand pulling out a deck of cards. “Why don’t we play a game?”
“No way, you cheated your way through it last time. I didn’t have cash to buy cigarettes that night,” Stanley refused, flicking his cigarette at him.
“Ah! I’m flammable you know,” Gen yelped, dramatically patting his clothing of the nonexistent embers. “It’s slow and I’m bored. None of the other regulars are as pretty as you.”
Stanley gave him a flat look at the compliment, making Gen just laugh. A slender hand reached out, grabbing Stanley’s half full ashtray, dumping it in the bucket underneath the bar.
“Maybe I should have you sit outside to attract more customers in,” Gen idly said, placing the ashtray back. “Though it might give off the wrong impression on the type of establishment I run.”
“It’s not like you have a great reputation anyways,” Stanley remarked, blowing smoke to the ceiling. “Maybe the reason you don’t have customers is that you cheat them out of their money in poker.”
“They should know how to play poker then,” Gen grinned, watching Stanley set his glass on the bartop. “And what does that say about you, still coming back?”
“You are one of the only bars that allows indoor smoking,” Stanley flatly replied, stubbing his cigarette out. “If you banned it you would never see me again.”
Gen faked a wounded look, placing the back of his hand on his forehead and stumbling back against the shelves of liquor. Stanley just rolled his eyes, pulling another cigarette from the pack in his back pocket.
“Light me, Gen,” Stanley requested over the sound of the door creaking open, the string of bells on the door handle announcing a customer.
“Oh hello!” Gen greeted as he pulled a zippo lighter from his pocket, flicking it on as Stanley leaned in. “What can I get you on this fine night?”
Stanley had closed his eyes, sucking in the taste of a fresh cigarette as Gen moved away from him, lighter abandoned on the bartop.
“Do you have white rum?” a familiar voice said, just over the frankly obnoxious music Gen had playing on the old DVD-radio player sitting at the end of the bartop. The speaker was crackling as Stanley slid an eye open, taking in the figure a couple stools down from him.
Just as I thought, Stanley thought to himself, closing his eye again.
The white haired professor looks a little too properly dressed for the dive bar, pristine white collared shirt and shiny leather shoes contrasting the rest of the customers in the bar. Despite him looking out of place, Stanley himself felt underdressed, the ratty jeans and old sweatshirt emblemed with the Marine logo making him a little off kilter. It was only September, but the air had gotten cold at night, Stanley noting the long trench coat the man wore.
“We do, but I’m gonna have to see some ID, mister,” Gen smiled, Stanley only imagining him pinching his raccoon paws together like a scheming thief.
“I’ll take that as flattery,” the professor replied, the shuffling of fabric telling Stanley he had given the bartender his ID.
Keeping his eyes down, Stanley looked down into his drink, the cheap brown liquor glimmering in the low bar light. It was watered down, Stanley idly noting Gen had overloaded his glass with ice.
Raccoon-ass bartender, Stanley huffed, knocking back the rest of his drink as Gen poured the white haired man his drink.
“There you are, Mr. Xeno,” Gen cheerily said, spinning the bottle between his hands. “Not many people order white rum!”
Xeno? What kind of name is that? Stanley mused, stealing a glance to the side. He nearly bit off the tip of his cigarette when he saw Xeno staring right back at him. Ah. Can’t avoid it now.
He gave a nod, shoving his empty glass away as Gen made his way back to him.
“You want another Stan?” Gen asked, picking up the glass and shaking the ice leftover in it.
“Yeah, make sure not to overload it with ice this time,” Stanley grumbled, pulling his cigarette out between his lips.
“Don’t flick embers at me again and I won’t!” Gen barked back, leaning away from the extended cigarette.
“You did it before I even did that,” Stanley snapped back, putting it back between his lips.
Sticking out his tongue, Gen turned around to refill his glass, hiding it behind the purple jacket he wore. Deciding not to comment on the secrecy, Stanley just rested his elbow on the countertop, gazing at the old beer signs that hung on the wall, neon lights stained by age.
“You have quite the different demeanor here, I must say,” Xeno said, Stanley looking at him in the corner of his eye.
“And I must say, I didn’t expect to see you in this type of establishment,” Stanley replied, ignoring Gen’s offended look as he set his drink down.
The white haired professor just gave an unsettling smile, sipping at his drink before replying. He was cross legged on the cracked leather stool, foot swaying to an internal beat.
“Well, I feel I’m a little too young for the bars my colleagues go to,” Xeno mused, a long nail tapping the rim of his glass. Gen had moved away, idly polishing glasses at the sink. “I have no interest in fancy dinners and expensive smoke.”
“You are more interested in cheap liquor and poisonous smoke?” Stanley grinned, blowing smoke to the side.
“You could say that,” Xeno remarked, a thick eyebrow raising in question. “I can ask you why you are here instead of in a more…faster paced establishment.”
“Just like you are a little too young for your peers’ joints, I’m a little too old for mine,” Stanley shrugged, turning to place both elbows on the bartop.
“So here we are,” Xeno finished, extending his glass to him.
Stanley returned in kind, clinking the cheap glasses together. Xeno didn’t say anything else, turning back to sip his liquor. Nursing a cigarette, Stanley pulled out his phone, idly scrolling as the minutes ticked by.
The bell on the door only rang a few more times, signaling both the entering and leaving of guests. Stanley paid them no mind, Gen making small talk as the night wore on. He had cut himself off from the drink an hour ago, smoking his last cigarette.
“I’ll be closed tomorrow,” Gen said as Stanley stubbed out his final cigarette.
“How come?” Stanley asked, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.
“Taiju is coming to fix up the floorboards finally,” Gen replied, dumping the ashtray in the bucket beneath the bar. “I can finally pick up those rugs.”
Stanley hummed in reply, throwing a couple bills on the bartop before standing up. Xeno was still nursing a drink, chin resting in his hand as he watched the pair. Stanley gave a short wave goodbye to the bartender, stretching his arms over his head as he made his way toward the door, sidestepping the aforementioned rugs.
“See you in class,” a familiar voice said, causing Stanley to turn. “Have a good one, Stanley.”
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Professor Wingfield,” Stanley replied, pushing the door open, the cool September air blowing in.
He gave a wave over his shoulder, bracing against the cool air as he stepped out into the street, the door creaking shut behind him.
=
Xeno’s appearances at the dive bar became more frequent.
He wasn’t there every time, but more often than not about an hour after Stanley had arrived, the white haired professor made his entrance, always overdressed for the smoke filled bar. From what Gen had let on, he was a very good tipper and never ordered a different drink.
After a while, once the awkwardness had faded, the two of them had struck up conversation once or twice, Xeno a lot more conversational than Stanley had initially thought, sometimes talking both his and Gen’s ear off. He really did seem to fit his age the more the two of them conversed.
A twenty six year old PhD student, saddled with the requirement to teach 3 semesters. Even though he was only in the second year of his doctorate study, NASA already had their eyes set on him, paying the rest of his term and promising a job after he graduated.
“NASA huh?” Stanley said around his cigarette, leaning on the counter.
“Once I complete my PhD here, I have a job lined up there,” Xeno replied, licking the white rum off his lips. “What made you decide on a manufacturing engineering degree? Why not communications? Something to do with relations?”
“Those degrees are made up and you know it,” Stanley grinned, angling away to both the smoke out the corner of his mouth. “I want to go into manufacturing guns.”
“He is quite the sharpshooter!” Gen piped up, pointing the lighter in his hand to the raggedy dart board hanging on the wall. They didn’t have darts, steak knives sticking in the plaster beside the board, glinting in the light. “He hits the triple 20 everytime.”
“I thought you were a Marine,” Xeno hummed, staring at the dart board. “Was that just make me stop asking about your past?”
“I was a Marine,” Stanley laughed, setting his cigarette on the ashtray. “I was MARSOC.”
“And you decided to come to a state university because…?” Xeno gave a flat look, setting his empty glass down. Stanley just offered a shrug, thanking the bartender as he set a beer in front of him.
“My commander said I was wasting my talents. Told me to go get a life,” Stanley replied, taking a sip, the frosted glass stinging his purple lip. “He probably thought I would go into private security, but nah.”
“Why not? They would pay you quite handsomely,” the white haired man asked, giving him a curious look.
“There was no one I felt okay with defending. If it came down to it, I might have to take a life,” Stanley shrugged, picking his cigarette back up. He noticed the filter was blotted purple, dark in the bar light. “I wouldn’t be able to do that for someone I didn’t believe in.”
“Aw you are so softhearted,” Gen cooed, clasping his hands in front of him. Stanley gave him a withering look, grinding his teeth into his cigarette. “Here I thought you would do anything for a paycheck!”
“Oh shut up,” Stanley muttered, purposefully blowing smoke into the man’s face. “You are the one already watering down the cheap liquor.”
Gen dramatically waved the smoke out of his face as Xeno gave a small laugh, intertwining his fingers as he leaned on the bartop. Stanley watched the bicolored haired man refill the professor’s drink, fingers drumming his leg.
“Enough about my failed career in private security,” Stanley finally said, watching Gen flit away to busy himself with nothing. “How did you get into getting a job at NASA?”
Stanley soon regretted this question, the white haired man eagerly explaining to him until Gen kicked them both out, complaining it was past closing and he needed his ‘beauty sleep.’
“You are certainly not pretty enough for beauty sleep,” Stanley snapped as the man weakly pushed him out the door.
“I’m going to ignore that, for the sake of my pride,” Gen groaned, straining against Stanley’s body weight. “I’ll be open tomorrow at 4pm sharp! Out!”
The man slammed the door shut, the bells jingling as he flipped the deadbolt. Stanley just sighed, adjusting his coat before turning to the man beside him, who was wrapping a gray scarf tightly around his neck, face flush with the cold. He caught the man’s eye, noting the other bars had long since closed up, the streets vacant save a few stragglers stumbling their way home. Unlike the yellow lights of the bar, the streetlights were a cold white, gracing the pair in a glow.
“I’ll see you at class, professor,” Stanley offered up, hands toying with the pack of cigarettes in his coat, almost empty.
“I think we’ve graduated to you calling me by my first name, Stanley,” Xeno replied, giving a small smile. His white hair seemed to reflect the artificial light, Stanley squinting his eyes. It had started to snow, the tiny flakes falling gracefully on the man’s neat coat.
“Have we graduated to you telling me what’s gonna be on the exam tomorrow?” Stanley asked, blinking the flakes off his eyelashes.
“I don’t think we have gotten that far,” Xeno smiled, shaking his head. “Was you paying for my tab tonight a bribe?”
Stanley grinned in return, giving a wave as he turned on his heel. The shorter man beside him had settled down in his scarf, hands deep in his pockets.
“It was worth a shot,” Stanley called as he padded away, flurries dancing around his feet. “Have a good night Xeno.”
“Have a good night Stanley,” the professor called. “Make sure to study Boyle’s Law.”
He just lit his cigarette, watching the flakes fall down on the deserted sidewalk as he made his way back to his apartment.
=
Stanley was pretty sure he passed the exam, and he would never tell that white haired professor his tip helped. The short man looked too smug when he passed out the multi-page test, Stanley almost feeling sorry for the girl in front of him, who had started sniffling halfway through the exam.
He had learned quite quickly, even before befriending the professor, that the man was quite sadistic when it came to his exams. Everything he said in lecture was fair game on the tests, and Xeno made sure to make it as confusing as possible. So far, he had fared well on the exams, flying by the seat of his pants on the last one. He hoped he had done at least a little better, idly tapping his pencil on the tiny chair desk, watching the clock tick on the wall.
“Alright, time is up,” Xeno smiled, tapping the expensive looking watch on his wrist. He had forgone his usual white button up, wearing a dark green knit sweater layered over top a black turtleneck. “Please pass the exams forward.”
Stanley leaned forward, handing the paper to the sniffling girl in front of him, deciding not to comment on the smeared mascara around her eyes. His classmates very quickly tidied their things, shuffling out of the lecture hall, heads down. He eased out of his chair, stomping his way down the long faced steps to the professor who was tidying the papers. He tongued his bare lip, the stress of the test making him crave tobacco.
“You have a sadistic streak don’t you, professor?” Stanley grinned, twirling his pencil between his fingers.
“I would like to think it’s more of a desire to,” Xeno started, tapping his chin. “To challenge my students academically,” he finished, tucking the papers into his leather bag.
Stanley rolled his eyes in response, tucking his pencil behind his ear as he turned on his heel. Xeno was hot on his heels as they both filed out into the hallway, flicking the lights off after they exited. Stanley gave a short wave as Xeno made his way up the stairs to his office, his expensive shoes echoing in the hallway.
“See you later, professor,” Stanley called, turning to walk down the stairwell. “Don’t grade too harshly now.”
“I’ll do as I please, Stanley,” Xeno said, stopping on the steps. He leaned over the side, grinning at the blonde. “No amount of paid tabs will change that.”
Shaking his head, Stanley gave a dismissive wave, making his way down the stairs and out into the cold, winter air. It had snowed all night, the university haphazardly salting the sidewalks that morning. Carefully, Stanley stepped his way into the quad, shivering against the wind. He felt someone’s eyes on him, turning back to the old brick building, looking up. It was still overcast, though the snow reflected on the glass, blinding him for a moment. He squinted, shielding his eyes with a hand as he glanced up, catching the eye of a certain young professor, peering out the window.
He cocked an eyebrow, watching the man stare him down, thin hand gripping the side of the window. His eyes didn’t really betray anything, but Stanley’s eyesight was honed enough to see his mouth twitch, the threat of a smile gracing his lips. Stanley held the contact for a moment, trying not to shiver as the late October weather sunk into his bones. He was about to turn away when the professor started to mouth something, pulling his attention back.
“See you at the bar tonight,” Stanley saw the man mouth, his slim figure disappearing as the man retreated from the window into the depths of his office.
“See you later, Xeno,” Stanley breathed to himself, turning to walk deeper into campus, tonguing his lip for a cigarette.
=
Stanley winced, reaching over to turn the crackly radio player off, smacking Gen’s hand away when he tried to turn it back on.
“My head already hurts,” Stanley snapped, holding onto his glass when Gen tried to grab it.
“Not my problem,” Gen smiled, pulling at the glass in his hand. “Maybe don’t smoke as much.”
“My smoking habit has nothing to do with my headache,” Stanley gritted, sliding a quick glance to the other blonde man in the bar, loudly chatting with a timid, brown skinned man sitting next to him. If Stanley squinted, he would say the two looked alike.
“I can’t do much about those two so just deal with the damn radio,” Gen sighed, crossing his arms. “They do own this building, technically.”
“Excuses,” Stanley huffed, nursing his drink. “Just charm them into drinking into silence. You’re good at that.”
Gen just shook his head, turning to welcome in the guest who had jingled the door open.
“Oh hey Xeno! I’ll get your drink ready,” Gen cheerily called, turning to grab the familiar bottle of Havana off the shelf behind him. Stanley noted the masking tape sloppily marked ‘Xeno’ stuck to the side of it.
“Thank you,” Xeno replied, sliding into the stool next to Stanley. He had lost the green sweater, leaving only the black turtleneck to peek over the tightly buttoned coat. His usual gray scarf was absent, Stanley eyeing his flushed, windblown face.
“Finish grading papers?” Stanley asked, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket.
“Mostly yes,” Xeno replied, thanking Gen as he slid the clear drink in front of him. “It is quite disappointing how bad the class did.”
Stanley just rolled his eyes, patting his pocket for a lighter. Gen had moseyed away, trying to entertain the two other people at the bar. The timid man had perked up at Gen’s attention, fingers fumbling over cash as he tried to tip the man. Poor guy has no idea, Stanley mused, eyeing the bartender giving a sickly sweet smile. He paused when he heard the zip of a lighter, a blue flame appearing in front of his face.
“Oh thanks,” Stanley said, leaning in to light his cigarette. “I didn’t know you carried a lighter.”
“Usually I don’t,” was all the man offered up, flicking the lighter closed and unbuttoning his coat.
Stanley decided not to comment on that.
“You passed, by the way,” Xeno said after a bout of silence, lighter clattering onto the sticky counter. “Barely, but you passed.”
“Aw, I get to know before you post it on CANVAS?” Stanley grinned, smoking trickling from his mouth. “I thought you weren’t moved by bribes.”
“Don’t push it or I’ll give you a zero,” Xeno huffed, sipping at his drink.
“For what?” Stanley remarked, playfully hitting his shoulder. “You are the one taking the bribes, not me.”
“Doesn’t matter, I’ll work it out on paper,” Xeno nodded, smiling into his glass.
“You really put the evil in evil scientist, ya know,” Stanley said, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. Gen had migrated away from the two men at the bar, idly cleaning off the ugly couch that sat by the dart board.
“I strive to,” Xeno grinned, licking his lips.
“Oh whatever,” Stanley rolled his eyes, sipping at his drink, the excessive ice numbing his lip. He tried not to lick his lips, aware that his lipstick was already rubbing off on the glass.
They idly chatted for a while, Xeno sliding a glare to the two men on the other end of the bar every time they got too loud. Stanley did his best to ignore the racket, letting Gen offer apologies in double pours charged as singles.
“They seem young, I wonder why they aren’t someplace more suited for their volume,” Xeno muttered after a lull in their conversation.
“Gen said they own the building,” Stanley said, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. “They give Gen quite the deal.”
“I can probably guess why,” the white haired man said, black eyes trained on the bartender showing the tan skinned man a simple card trick.
Stanley hummed, sighing as he rested an elbow on the bartop. Both of them had drank more than usual, maybe the prospect of Friday night made them let loose a little. Xeno had taken off his coat, throwing it on the stool next to him, his usual proper posture slumping as he leaned on the lacquered counter. He looked at the old clock on the wall, the skimpily clad woman decal stained yellow. The white haired man had slid his eyes shut, dark circles exaggerated in the bar’s bad lighting. Stanley resisted pushing away the stray locks that had fallen out of place.
“Tired already?”
“Grading those papers made me exhausted,” the man sighed, eyes still shut as he rested his chin on his hand. “Stupidity does really drain me.”
“Oh you poor thing,” Stanley sarcastically remarked, searching his coat pocket for his pack. He was wearing his old denim bomber jacket, the iron on marine patch curling at the edges. “Fuck.”
Xeno cracked an eye open, watching as Stanley patted his coat pockets, then his pants pocket, then his coat again.
“What’s wrong?” Xeno asked, taking back the rest of his drink.
“I must’ve not packed my cigarettes. I only had the two spare ones in this coat,” Stanley groaned, sliding his eyes shut. “The lighter shoulda been a sign.”
Xeno watched him gulp down the rest of his drink, not caring if his lipstick smudged. Cigarettes were more important.
“Maybe it's a sign to quit that horrid habit.”
“Says the man who offered his lighter earlier,” Stanley cocked an eyebrow as he pushed the glass back. “Wanna run with me to the smoke shop?”
The pair had never spent time with each other outside the lecture hall and the bar, Stanley offering the company as good manners, not expecting the man to accept.
“Sure, I need to walk off this liquor anyways,” Xeno sighed, grabbing his coat off the stool beside him.
Surprising.
“Gen! Our tab,” Stanley barked, calling the man’s attention. He waved the cash pinned between his fingers.
“Oh don’t worry about it tonight,” Gen smiled, gesturing to the two men. “They said it’s covered.”
Xeno cocked an eyebrow, buttoning up his coat as Stanley slipped his money back into his pants pocket. Stanley nodded a thanks, Xeno offering nothing to the men, simply following Stanley to the door. Stanley kicked at the sticky hinges, the bells jingling as the two exited, Stanley letting the door fall shut after the pale haired man had stepped through.
“Hopefully Gen won’t be bedding down with those two tonight,” Stanley huffed, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. It was bitterly cold, his cheeks quickly becoming numb.
“I think he will weasel his way out of it,” Xeno remarked, following the blonde down the street.
Most of the bars were still open, the streets crowded with college students, in varying states of inebriation. Stanley weaved his way around a group of girls, the professor jogging to walk side by side. His hair was disheveled, falling around his face as they continued down the street, the neon lights of the bars casting a rainbow of lights on the man’s pale face.
“There’s a smoke shop at the end of the road, by that tattoo parlor,” Stanley nodded in front of them, stopping to let a guy exit a packed bar.
Xeno nodded, licking his lips as he puffed air into the cold night. They turned the corner, Stanley expecting nothing but the flashing light of the shop, a lighthouse in the godforsaken tobacco-less sea. Unfortunately, they were met with anything but that.
“I’m assuming the cop isn’t normal for this shop?”
“No, it’s not,” Stanley groaned, watching the officer write out what he presumed to be a ticket to the cashier, who stood in the threshold, arms crossed against the cold. “He never carded anyone. I guess this has something to do with that. Let’s get out of here before we get roped into this.”
They both turned on their heels, crossing the street to get out of sight of the already miffed officer.
“What now?” Xeno asked, teeth chattering in the cold.
“My apartment ain’t far. I’ll make a trip back there and grab a pack of smokes. You can head back to the bar if you want,” Stanley sighed, pointing up the dark street. He lived on one of the outer streets of downtown, an upper level apartment over a frankly overpriced hair salon. “Sorry for dragging out into the cold.”
“Nonsense. I didn’t want to be alone in that bar with those three anyway,” Xeno shrugged, nose red from the cold.
“Inviting yourself back to my apartment with me? How bold,” Stanley grinned, bumping his shoulder before continuing down the street.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Xeno rolled his eyes, falling in step beside him. “I just don’t want to strike up a conversation with that blonde.”
“What? You don’t like blondes? You know I’m a natural right,” Stanley retorted, turning his nose up in false offense.
“Haha so funny,” Xeno flatly replied, the blonde laughing at the glare.
Stanley turned them into the alley leading to his apartment, the rickety stairs gleaming with ice under the weak streetlamp. Stanley led the man up the first set of stairs, boots slipping on the slick wooden platforms.
“It gets slicker the higher we go,” Stanley remarked, ushering the man in front of him. “I’ll stay behind you in case you slip.”
“How chivalrous of you,” Xeno remarked, gingerly making his way up the next set of stairs. “Like a knight catching a princess.”
“Are you the princess in this?” Stanley laughed, following behind him.
“You are too uncouth to be-” Xeno was cut off as he slipped forward, slamming into the icy step in front of him and sliding to hit Stanley’s shins. He groaned, bare fingers trying to grip at the slick stairs to catch himself.
It took Stanley a moment to compose himself, risking slipping himself as he gripped at the railing, wheezing as he laughed. He was aware of Xeno weakly kicking him, the man righting himself to sit on the icy stairwell as the blonde caught his breath.
“Not funny, that hurt,” Xeno huffed, glancing down at his red palms. “I cut my palms open on your damn stairwell.”
“Oh I’m sorry princess,” Stanley wheezed, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. “You can wash your hands in the apartment, let’s go.”
He extended a hand, hoisting the young professor to his feet. Stanley walked beside the man now, hand hovering behind Xeno’s lower back as they climbed the final set of stairs. The pale haired man was looking at his hands, blood beading up on the soft skin. His lithe hands were scraped along the finger pads, the main wound having happened on the heels of his palms.
“You must’ve cut your hands on a nail or something,” Stanley remarked as they reached the top of the stairs.
Pulling his key out his coat pocket, he clicked the weak lock, slamming the door open into the dark apartment. The man said nothing, shaking his hands to the side before stepping in behind Stanley. His apartment wasn’t much, the front door entering right into a small valley kitchen. Throwing his jacket haphazardly on top of the stove, Stanley closed the front door, not bothering to lock it.
“You can wash your hands in the sink,” Stanley motioned to the kitchen sink, clean dishes stacked neatly in the rack. “I’ll see if I have a band-aid or something.”
Stanley left the man to wash his wounds, the front door swinging shut as Stanley flicked on the weak overhead light, the hum filling the stale air. He walked through the narrow living room, laptop and paper notes scattered on the coffee table. Stanley had left the TV on, the sleep mode screensaver slowly scrolling by. He made his way past, boots tripping on the rug as he entered his bedroom. Clicking on the lamp, he searched on top of his nightstand, quickly spotting the half empty pack of cigarettes laying next to the dirty ashtray. Pocketing it, Stanley made his way out of the bedroom, not bothering to click the light off.
Xeno was missing from the kitchen, Stanley noting the bathroom light had been turned on, the bright light pouring into the living room.
“Xeno? Are you in the bathroom?” Stanley asked, walking over to the tiny bathroom.
“I am, I found some band-aids,” the man replied, who was sitting on the toilet, applying ointment to his hands.
“That’s good,” Stanley sighed, leaning against the doorway. The bathroom was tiny, the standing shower barely big enough to fit the blonde on a good day. “It look bad? I couldn’t see it very well on the stairway outside.”
Xeno didn’t reply, simply showing the palm that wasn’t covered in a bandage. Stanley sucked in a sharp breath, looking at the two inch jagged cut that ran from the center of his palm to the heel of his hand, red blood bright under the bathroom light.
“Hurts like a bitch,” Xeno muttered, leaning over to wash the bloody hand in the sink. “Not fatal though. Just irritating.”
“Maybe you tagging along with me is bad luck,” Stanley chuckled, crossing his ankles as he watched the man clumsily bandage his other hand.
“Maybe I’ll dock points on your exam for this,” Xeno sighed, throwing the packaging in the trash as he stood up.
“Let’s not be too rash here,” Stanley laughed, shifting back to let the man exit the bathroom. “I’ll make up for the cuts, promise.”
Turning back, Stanley walked the short distance to his kitchen, swinging open his fridge door to see what he had, knowing it wasn’t much.
“I have a couple drinks here if you want something,” Stanley asked, leaning over to grab a couple bottles of some cheap beer he had bought earlier that week. “It’s not much but hey it’s free.”
“It won’t fully make up for it but sure,” Xeno sighed, sitting down on the peeling, faux leather couch. He delicately picked up some of Stanley’s notes, glancing over them.
Closing the door, Stanley cracked both bottles open, throwing the caps on the counter with a clatter. He handed the white haired man the beer, plopping down beside him on the couch. It was comfier than it looked, the stuffing still soft and plush. Stanley watched the man look over his notes, taking in his disheveled appearance. His white hair was mussed, falling out of his usual pristine style, curtaining his still flushed face. Xeno had unbuttoned his coat, revealing the black sweater beneath it, it still tucked into the black slacks he wore. He had toed off his shoes as he sat on the couch, the expensive leather out of place in the dingy apartment. The man sipped at the cheap liquor, lips chapped and red. Stanley noticed despite the premature white hair, the man still had dark, black lashes, giving the implication of his actual hair color.
“Having fun judging my notes?” Stanley finally teased, setting his bottle on the coffee table. He kicked his boots off haphazardly before settling back against the plush furniture.
“You certainly have a unique note taking style,” Xeno mused, sipping his beer. His nose scrunched as he swallowed, clearly not too pleased with the taste. “But you seem to do well on your assignments and tests so it clearly works for you.”
“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Stanley grinned, leaning forward to shut his laptop with a snap.
“And I’ll let you,” Xeno replied, grinning as he took another drink.
Stanley’s retort died in his throat as he watched Xeno place the notes back on the coffee table, red drops staining the worn paper. He grabbed at one of his wrists, turning the hand palm up to look at the bandage. The pale nude color was seeping brown and red, the adhesive peeling as warm blood blooming across the surface.
“Damn Xeno you really fucked up your hands,” Stanley said, releasing his wrist as he stood up. “I think I have some rubbing alcohol to dry the scratch up.”
Xeno said nothing, resting his hands palm up on his legs as Stanley made his way back into the bathroom, swinging open the vanity cabinet. Grabbing the half empty bottle of rubbing alcohol, he threw it behind him, landing with a thump of the cushion next to the bleeding man.
“I don’t have any cotton balls but I have some pads that I use for my makeup,” Stanley sighed, grabbing a handful out of the plastic container. “It should do the trick.”
Walking back over, Stanley sat beside the man, peeling off the band-aids carefully. Xeno hissed through his teeth as Stanley wiped the ointment and blood away, cotton pad rough on the sensitive skin. He threw the pads to the floor, not concerned with keeping his apartment clean at the moment.
“Do you wanna take your coat off? That way the cuffs don’t get soaked,” Stanley said, grabbing the bottle of rubbing alcohol.
“Yeah, give me a moment,” Xeno replied, standing up to shrug the coat off, sitting back down on top of it. “It’s an expensive coat.”
“I thought so,” Stanley said, soaking a cotton pad with alcohol. “This is gonna hurt.”
Xeno nodded in reply, chewing on his lip as Stanley blotted at the scratches, the skin turning white as it dried up the wound. He pressed each hand with pads, trying not to rub against the skin as he did so, waiting for the blood to clot.
“I have to ask,” Xeno said after Stanley pulled the blood soaked pads away and replaced them with new ones. “Ow. I have to ask about the makeup.”
“Oh, why I wear it?”
“No, why you eat it,” Xeno retorted, wincing as Stanley pressed the pad against the damaged skin. “Yes, why you wear it.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Stanley grinned, pulling the pads away to stare at the scratches. The blood had stopped rising to the surface, the skin whitened along the wound. “I wasn’t permitted to wear it in the Marines, after I got out I liked the look of it. Simple as that.”
“Lipstick and mascara?” Xeno asked, looking down at his palms.
“Just lipstick,” Stanley said, standing up off the couch. “Let me grab some band-aids.”
He felt the man’s gaze on him as he went back to the bathroom, pulling a couple of bandages out of the beaten cardboard box. He kicked the vanity door closed, foot smacking the fake wooden door.
“I am flattered you think I’m wearing eye makeup though,” Stanley grinned, opening one of the band-aids as he sat down. “You can thank my mom for the thick eyelashes.”
Xeno offered his hand out as Stanley placed the bandage on his palm, delicately pressing the adhesive to the sensitive skin. He knew the man was looking at him, most likely trying to see if Stanley was lying about wearing eye makeup.
After bandaging both palms, Stanley leaned away, throwing the rubbing alcohol on the coffee table before resting back on the couch. Xeno was still looking at him, black eyes betraying nothing but general curiosity. Xeno leaned back as well, shoulders brushing, Stanley looking at the screensaver slide across the cheap TV he owned.
“Why don’t you wear makeup in class?”
“I already stick out like a sore thumb,” Stanley sighed, slinging his arm on the back of the couch. “Don’t really wanna make it worse.”
“So you only wear it to the bar?” Xeno asked. Stanley gave a sidelong glance, holding the man’s stare.
“Nah, anywhere that ain’t campus,” Stanley grinned, leaning in close. “What? You want me to say I only wear it around you?”
Xeno pushed at his face with a bandaged hand, lipstick smearing on the bandage. Stanley pushed back, encroaching on the white haired man’s personal space. The man had broken eye contact, staring off to the side as Stanley continued to pressure him.
“I’m asking because I’m curious,” Xeno retorted, pushing at his face. “Don’t get all cocky cause you get hit on all the time.”
“Why do you think I get hit on all the time?” Stanley asked, attempting to cock an eyebrow against the bandaged hand. “You think I’m pretty?”
Xeno paused, hand twitching against his face. Stanley stayed in his personal space, arm on the back of the couch sliding down so his fingertips brushed against the man’s mussed hair. Xeno was chewing on his lip, the silence filled with the sound of college students yelling on the street, clearly inebriated.
“I think you know the answer to that,” Xeno finally muttered as he slid his hand off Stanley’s face, intertwining his fingers on his lap.
“Do I get points on my exam for being pretty?” Stanley teased, fingers twirling a long lock of Xeno’s hair. “Or do I need to more than that?”
Maybe the alcohol was reaching his head, or maybe the proximity. Stanley was toeing a dangerous line and Xeno seemed to be letting him, not moving away as Stanley wrapped the white hair around his fingers. His head was swimming slightly as he leaned in even closer, trying to catch the man’s eye. He did, short black lashes disappearing as they shadowed black eyes staring him down. They didn’t betray much emotion besides muted interest, like they were waiting for Stanley to do something.
“Depends on what more means,” Xeno replied, offering a small, unsettling smile.
Giving a grin back, Stanley let the hand playing with Xeno’s hair slide to cup his jaw, tilting his face toward his own. He could feel Xeno’s breath on his face as he spoke again.
“Was this the plan? Sleeping with a student?”
“Not just any student,” Xeno breathed, not denying the statement.
Xeno let him pull him forward, bandaged hands gripping the front of the brown pullover Stanley wore. His lips were chapped against Stanley’s and he could taste the cheap beer that he was drinking earlier when he swiped his tongue along the seam of Xeno’s lips, humming. Shifting, Xeno clambered onto Stanley’s lap, straddling the man as he refused to break the kiss, lips sliding. Stanley let his hands pull up the dark sweater the man wore, gripping at lean sides as he hummed into the kiss. He tilted his head as Xeno pressed deeply against him, sliding his tongue along his teeth as the man’s legs squeezed around him. Thin hands released his pullover to grasp at his neck, damaged fingertips foreign against the sensitive skin of his neck. Stanley finally pulled away, Xeno not moving far as they caught their breath. He let his hands roam the pale skin beneath the man’s sweater as he spoke.
“How far do you wanna go with this?” Stanley breathed against the man’s mouth.
The man shifted, settling down on his lap before speaking.
“Well,” Xeno sighed, fingers digging into his neck. “Preferably I don’t want to continue on this couch.”
“What? You don’t want the full college experience of doing it on the couch?” Stanley laughed, purposefully tickling him.
“Not funny,” Xeno began, pressing a kiss to the corner of Stanley’s mouth. “Plus that restricts us quite a lot.”
Digging his fingers into soft skin, Stanley let him kiss across his face to his ear, pressing a chaste kiss to the cartilage.
“Don’t you want to be free to have fun?” Xeno breathed into his ear, rolling his hips forward.
Not letting him reply, Xeno captured his lips in a kiss again, continuing to grind against Stanley as Stanley’s hands pushed his sweater up. It seemed like the young professor was trying to lick the taste of liquor out of Stanley’s mouth as his hands danced across pale skin, flitting along symmetrical scars underneath the man’s pectorals. Pushing the sweater up further, Stanley reluctantly broke the kiss to try and remove the restricting garment.
“Eager are we?” Xeno smiled, lips smudged purple.
Despite the teasing, he released Stanley’s neck and pulled the sweater the rest of the way off, throwing it to the side. Warm hips left his own as Xeno sat up on his knees, letting Stanley press his face to his chest, chaste kisses leaving a purple trail down his pale skin. Bandaged hands tangled in his blonde hair, pulling slightly as he laved his tongue across a nipple. A low hum rumbled the white haired man’s chest as Stanley sucked a mark on his chest, tongue soothing the red skin. Before he could do the same to the other side, Xeno pulled his head away, Stanley trying to suck the saliva back into his mouth.
“Let’s move off the couch,” Xeno huffed, shifting to shuffle off the couch.
“Not so fast,” Stanley replied, gripping at Xeno’s hips to stop him. “Let’s just have fun here.”
He was aware his pack of cigarettes was being squished against the couch as he pulled the man down again, easily resisting Xeno’s pushing at his shoulders. Xeno rolled his eyes as he let Stanley drag his hips against his jeans, bare arms encircling his neck. Leaning back in a kiss, Stanley licked into his mouth as he lifted up on the man to lay him back against the peeling couch, white hair splaying out on the armrest. Xeno’s black slacks bunched up on his legs as he locked ankles around Stanley’s hips, rolling against the denim. He arched his back to meet chest to chest with him, Stanley highly aware of the layer of fabric barring the contact.
“Take,” Xeno breathed, Stanley not letting him get too many words in between kisses. “Your, shirt off.”
Obeying, Stanley leaned back as he balanced on the narrow couch, discarding his pullover with a swift motion. Xeno seemed to be enjoying the view, black eyes tracing down his chest as his scraped fingers danced down his tan skin.
“Having fun there?” Stanley teased, leaning back down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.
“Like you aren’t?” Xeno shot back, tilting his head as Stanley kissed down his neck, connecting to the trail left on his chest.
He decided not to answer that, tongue sliding up the thin skin to kiss Xeno again. He groaned as he dragged against Xeno’s hips, heat seeping through the fabric. He had wrapped his arms around Stanley’s neck again, hands playing with his short locks. Stanley reached a hand down to unbutton the ceramic button of the black slacks, Xeno moaning into his mouth as he slid a hand under the fabric, feeling him over his underwear.
Emboldened, Stan slid his hand over him more intensely, sucking in the stuttering breath out of the man’s throat. His jeans were embarrassingly tight, uncomfortable as he honed in on the sensation of damp fabric against his fingers. Xeno was hyperreactive, legs squeezing around him as he pressed his two middle fingers against his entrance, soaking the fabric of his boxers. Stanley felt drunk as he sucked the saliva out of the man’s mouth, tasting of stale liquor and salt. Bandaged hands left his hair to pull at black slacks, struggling to pull them off as Stanley continued his administrations, thumb swiping over Xeno’s dick. He reluctantly broke the kiss to help him, unhooking Xeno’s legs to yank the pants off. He unbuttoned his own jeans to relieve some of the pressure, hands dragging over pale, toned legs as he leaned forward.
“I’m not on any contraception,” Xeno breathed, gauging Stanley’s reaction. He had raised his arms over his head to dangle off the end of the couch, scars warped on his chest.
“Fine by me,” Stanley replied, hand sliding back down to toy with the band of Xeno’s boxers. “We don’t gotta do anything like that.”
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Xeno widened his legs, letting Stanley dip his fingers beneath his underwear. He was warm and wet on his calloused fingers, slick easing the slide as Stanley swiped his fingers over his dick. It was Stanley’s turn to enjoy the view, watching Xeno’s eyes scrunch shut as Stanley slid between his folds, teasing over his entrance. Thumb rubbing circles, Stanley dipped his two middle fingers in, relishing in the feel on his fingertips. He sunk his fingers, Xeno groaned through his clenched teeth as Stanley pumped his fingers at a slow rhythm. Stanley’s knees were aching on the couch as he began to regret the decision to insist on staying on the piece of furniture.
Too late now, Stanley mused, speeding up his fingers as his other hand braced beside the man’s lean torso. Plus I don’t wanna ruin the view.
Xeno kept his back arched as his arms bent forward, fingers gripping along the sides of Stanley’s neck. It felt like a promise, or maybe a threat, as he couldn’t help his hips jerking forward at the press of finger pads on the lean muscle of his neck. Flaking pieces of the faux leather dug under his fingernails as gripped at the couch beside Xeno, breath shaking as the black eyed man caught the subtle jerk of his hips at the touch.
It was too quiet in the apartment, the shift of fabric sounding extremely loud to Stanley’s ears, the unsteady breathing exiting his chest like train horns. He was focused on the feeling of scraped fingertips on his neck, pressing a sequence of notes like a piano. The white haired man stayed silent, angling his head to look at the blonde through his lashes, an unsettling smile gracing his smudged lips. He could barely concentrate on the feeling of Xeno on his fingers, the warm wetness seeping onto his palm as he continued, thumb aching from the repetitive movement on the man’s dick. Xeno’s fingers tightened as he got closer, thighs widening as Stanley was spurred on by the firm grip of thin fingers on his neck. Despite the domineering look on Xeno’s face, his hips stuttered up, his sex squeezing around Stanley’s fingers as he tried to bring the man to climax. Stanley focused on crooking his fingers up, rubbing against his warm insides as he focused on the man’s reaction, drinking in the shallow breathing and quiet moans. He squeezed his eyes shut as he climaxed, the small gurgly moan escaping his lips music to Stanley’s ears in the quiet space. His pale face was flushed, sweaty, white hair ratty and falling across his face as he panted into the space between them, lips glossy with spit.
He continued to press his fingers against him, Xeno taking a longer time to come down from his climax as he twitched beneath Stanley. He reluctantly pulled his fingers from the wet heat, making sure to drag a sticky line of cum and slick over the man’s pubic hair and across his stomach. Xeno’s thumbs had pressed under his jaw, forcing Stanley to crane his neck up to look down at the man beneath him. Xeno felt Stanley’s hips twitch at the action, legs squeezing around his hips as if to draw out another action. His wet sticky hand left pale skin to find purchase on the hem of his exposed underwear, curtained by the unbuttoned jeans.
“Don’t,” Xeno breathed, eyes locking on Stanley’s sticky hand. Hesitantly Stanley pulled his hand away, mirroring the other arm as he bracketed the thin man in.
Bandaged palms pressed against his trachea, making him lean back to relieve the pressure, sinking back on his heels. With that action, Stanley was pushed down, inelegantly knocking the back of his head on the armrest as he went pliant under the other man. Denim pushed against his dick, a delicious sensation soon intensified as Xeno climbed over top of him, bare legs straddling his hips. Soaked fabric pressed against his groin as he settled on top of Stanley, grinding his hips slowly. Stanley let himself dig his nails into the pale skin of his legs, grounding himself as Xeno pressed his weight into his hands, clearly experienced as he pressed his fingers into the side of Stanley’s neck.
“Do you think,” Xeno began as Stanley groaned against the pressure on his dick. “That you’ll get off just like this, no?”
The blonde couldn’t answer, nails leaving red trails on Xeno’s thighs as he felt Xeno’s cum soak into his own underwear as he continued to grind against him. The pressure of the man on him, the sweet friction of the clothing made him very aware that he was embarrassingly close to climaxing. Black eyes were looking down at him, the glint communicating to Stanley this was just as much for him as it is for the young professor. The alcohol in his system didn’t help his case, it making his vision blurry and head swim as lithe fingers slowly tightened around his throat, pressing a moan out of Stanley’s chest at the action. He couldn’t help his hips jutting up as Xeno continued to rut against him possessively, the thrill of asphyxiation making him feel out of body. Stanley was vaguely aware of his mouth hanging open, his eyebrows hurting from the permanent line they were drawn into as he was forcibly brought closer to his climax. He felt hot spit dribble out of his mouth as he watched Xeno give a grin at his state, bringing Stanley to his climax with a press of his thumbs under his jaw, pressing his tongue up against his hard palette.
He was sure he was drawing blood as he sunk his nails into soft thighs, throat obstructed from releasing any sound as he felt the front of his underwear wetten with cum. Xeno held eye contact with him through his climax, thick eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he jerked down against him, sticky and hot against him.
It felt like hours until he came down from his climax, sucking in air as Xeno released his throat, settling back on Stanley’s thighs. Xeno was haphazardly pushing his hair out of his face, bandages blotted brown as braced on Stanley’s chest, shakily climbing off. Purple smudges disappeared as Xeno pulled his sweater back on, tossing Stanley’s own pullover to him. He pulled it on as he sat up, buttoning up his pants as he stood up to face Xeno. Xeno had pulled his black slacks back on, not bothering to button them as he looked at his palms.
“They are bleeding again,” Xeno sighed, sounding more annoyed than anything. Stanley rubbed at his neck before trying to speak, mouth dry.
“I have more band-aids,” Stanley rasped, licking his lips.
“It will be fine,” Xeno shook his head, grabbing his rumpled coat that was smushed between the couch cushions. “I need to get home anyway.”
“I’ll show you down the stairs,” Stanley replied, coughing as he walked over to the door to collect his discarded coat.
Xeno was sliding on his shoes as Stanley made his way back, not bothering to lace his boots as he shoved them back on. Opening the door, Stanley let the young professor step through first, door swinging shut as they stood on the rickety, wooden platform. Xeno linked his arm through Stanley’s as they made their way down the icy stairs, the warmth of the other body snaking across Stanley’s skin like ink. Safely at the bottom, the white haired man pulled away from him, turning to face Stanley in the flickering light of the alley.
“I’ll see you Monday,” Xeno smiled, tiptoeing to give him a chaste kiss.
Stanley instinctively encircled the man, dipping down to deepen the kiss as Xeno gripped at the coarse material of his coat. They broke with a wet smack, Xeno humming as he wiped drool off his lips with a swipe. He still had purple smudges on his face but Stanley decided not to tell the man, it stroking some sense of ego in him. Stanley let go of him, waving as the man made his way out of the alley, watching until he disappeared around a corner.
He sighed about really nothing, climbing the stairs as the ache of his throat sunk in, the cold air making it worse. He didn’t bother cleaning up his apartment, collapsing in bed face first as he pulled a crumpled cigarette out of his back pocket. He straightened it out as best he could before lighting it, sitting on his elbows as the smooth tobacco curled into his chest.
Stanley tried not to think of pale skin, white hair, black eyes and a weirdly charming unsettling smile as he dozed, not caring if he was burning holes in his sheets with cigarette ash.
=
Stanley was thankful he had experience with makeup, blotting the drugstore foundation onto his neck as he tried to cover the purple and green bruises that stained his neck. He thought that by Monday they would fade, but Stanley was wrong, the marks only darkened, turning green as the weekend progressed.
Now it was Monday and he was off to attend the class of the very man who gave him the damn marks.
He made his way to the back of the lecture hall, collapsing in his chair as he watched the clock tick toward the start time. He pulled his laptop out, not even bothering to turn it on as he watched the clock. Xeno was supposed to be handing back the exams today and Stanley really didn’t believe him when the white haired man had said he passed.
Call it a hunch.
The lecture door slammed open as it hit 3:15pm, the young professor making his entrance carrying the exams in his offhand. Even from the back of the room, Stanley hissed through his teeth at the amount of red pen marking the papers. He was back into his usual button up shirt, paired with expensive looking deep blue slacks.
“I am quite disappointed in a lot of you,” he began with no preamble, throwing the stack of papers on the table in front. “This is a record low for this class. Now we are going to go through the exam…”
Stanley had zoned out at the point, watching the man animatedly write functions on the board and grind his teeth disapprovingly as he spoke. He was barely aware when the lecture ended, jostled as the girl in front of him bumped his chair. Shaking his head of its cobwebs, he threw his laptop into his backpack and zipped it up, standing up as the rest of his classmates filed out the hall.
Stomping his way down the steps, he met Xeno’s amused gaze with a raised eyebrow, snatching the exam paper from his outstretched hand.
“A 70. Really?” Stanley grumbled, flipping through the exam. “Half this shit is just petty.”
“I can always lower the score,” Xeno smiled, fingers toying with the bridle collars on his neck.
“That's the opposite of what I want,” Stanley rolled his eyes, folding the exam up to shove into the side pocket of his bag.
The young professor just hummed, Stanley not missing the way his dark gaze lingered on his makeup covered neck. Sighing, Stanley made his way to the door, opening it to let Xeno walk through. The door creaked shut as the pair made their way to the stairs. He adjusted his backpack before speaking again, other students sidestepping them as they continued on with their days.
“I’m never paying your tab again,” Stanley retorted, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Xeno just laughed, shaking his head as he began to climb the stairs to the offices. Stanley couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips either, watching the man’s face flush with laughter, eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.
“Well, we will see if that is true tonight, huh?” Xeno said after a moment, lithe hand balancing him on the staircase. He was still wearing bandages, Stanley noted.
“I guess we will,” Stanley shrugged, turning on his heel to descend down to the ground floor.
“Oh, also,” Xeno said as he began to make his way up. He leaned over the railing, catching Stanley’s eye. “I would get better makeup for your neck. Drugstore isn’t going to cut it.”
“Shut up,” Stanley snapped as he placed his hand against his neck.
Xeno just grinned, leaning back to continue ascending the stairs. If Stanley leaned over to peer at the view gracing him between the railings of the stairs, that’s for him to know and no one else.