Bumlets dragged his weary self through the school halls. School sucked. Fridays sucked. Half days, well they were just torture. He was a senior for Christ's sake. He shouldn't even be here. He should be at home, still in his bed with the shades pulled and the door closed for at least two more hours.
But no, he was here, at school, for a measly three hours.
He finally made it to the general vicinity of his locker, and was surprised to find a tall, lanky boy there, banging his head repeatedly on Bumlets' locker.
The most prominent thing he noticed was the pair of glasses adorning the face.
"Dutchy?" He asked, confused.
The boy turned around. "Are you on crack?"
It was Swifty. Swifty wearing glasses. Bumlets had nearly forgotten that his boyfriend even wore contacts, and seeing him in glasses was beyond rare.
"I thought Dutchy tried dying his hair black again, scared me for a bit." He grinned, "Sorry." Then he just stood there, waiting for some sort of explanation.
Swifty just moved over a step and sank down in front of the locker next to Bumlets'. He sniffed as Bumlets lifted the latch on his locker and deposited a bag full of books inside.
"So, what's with the glasses?" he asked, gathering a rather large textbook and overflowing notebook into his arms.
"I know. I actually put the sunroof down this morning. Isn't it great?"
"Great for you, maybe."
"Stop being bitchy."
"I have allergies."
Bumlets vaguely remembered Swifty's sneezing fits near the end of every school year. Well, that did suck. Especially with baseball and track coming up. Swifty was going to be outside more than was probably healthy.
"Well, that sucks."
"Gee, thanks for your concern." Swifty turned to look at him, rubbing his already red eyes. "I'll see you in Calc later."
Bumlets retreated to the library, where he did his forgotten homework and pondered the problem of Swifty's allergies.
Third period was Calculus. A short fifty minutes and they would be out of class for the rest of the day. By this point Bumlet's didn't think he was capable of focusing on anything. Yet Mr. Rowland still found it critical that they complete a packet of notes before the period was through.
Bumlets made himself comfortable in the back row and diligently took the notes down.
A chorus of "Bless You's" rang out through the room.
Bumlets couldn't help but grin.
Swifty sneezed again.
A few "Bless You's" and a couple of laughs.
Bumlets bit his lower lip to keep from laughing.
Swifty sneezed twice in rapid succession, and rather loudly.
More people were laughing. A few were staring at Swifty with mild distaste. Bumlets was trying not to laugh. It wouldn't be very nice.
As Swifty was actually taking notes, or attempting to between sneezing fits, Bumlets abandoned his and merely stared down at the piece of paper in front of him, idly doodling. He snuck glances at Swifty. Swifty's nose twitched and he squeezed his eyes shut.
It was no use. He sneezed.
"Mr. Fu!" Mr. Rowland turned away from the overhead and looked at Swifty with disbelief, "Are you quite finished disrupting my class?"
"I'm sorry, allergies."
Mr. Rowland turned doubtfully back to the board.
Bumlets failed at suppressing a chuckle. Swifty shot him a look of utter hatred. "Bite me." He snapped harshly.
"Mr. Fu!" Mr. Rowland spun around once again. "Go to the office this instant. I've told you before. I will have none of that language in this class."
Swifty rolled his eyes but got up and walked to the door. His nose was twitching. As he touched the door handle he sneezed again.
"Mr. Rodriguez, you are very close to joining your friend." Mr. Rowland threatened.
"Sorry Sir." Bumlets lowered his gaze to his notes packet.
He found Swifty milling around the library when the bell rang. His bag was over his shoulder and a scowl crossed his face.
"That. Was. Not. Funny." He barked.
"Uh-huh." Bumlets agreed as a good boyfriend should. He took Swifty's hand and the two of them started off toward the parking lot.
Swifty scowled at Bumlets' pollen dust-covered car. He sniffed in distaste, and only ended up bent over sneezing. Bumlets only shook his head and opened the door for his boyfriend.
The drive to Bumlets' house was silent, save for the sneezing of course.
They went up to Bumlets' room and Swifty took a seat in the computer chair, glaring at his boyfriend. "I hate you."
"No you don't." Bumlets knew this. It was a typical argument.
Swifty sneezed again and rubbed roughly at his eyes."
"You're such and ass." Swifty objected. "It really isn't that funny."
"Yes it is."
"Stupid dirty Mexican."
Swifty could get mean. Everyone knew that. When he was in a bad mood he bitched at everyone. He was very racist, and didn't like people in general. His allergies were a sore spot because it was the only time of year he was venerable to anything.
Bumlets, fortunately, knew exactly how to handle him. He retreated to the bathroom and returned with a box of pills.
"These work for my sister. Her allergies are worse than yours. She's been rubbing at her eyes and sneezing since last week. God, it's annoying. She's worse than you."
Swifty took one out of the package and swallowed it, making a face at its bitter taste. He waited a moment and started rubbing at his eyes.
"You really are an ass."
Bumlets grabbed Swifty's wrist and dragged him over onto the bed. "Do you know you do this twitchy thing with you nose before you sneeze?" Bumlets tried to imitate him. "and you squeeze you eyes shut and twitch some more."
"It's so cute."
"Bumlets, don't do this right now, okay?"
"I need a fucking cigarette."
Bumlets took Swifty's hand in his and just looked at the two of them for a second. For such different backgrounds they certainly looked a lot alike. Swifty's skin was a few shades darker than Bumlets' was. He looked up into Swifty's eyes, big expressive brown things, temporarily tinged with red and surrounded by glasses. They were emo glasses, very much so. Bumlets remembered them suddenly from the first time he had met Swifty freshman year. Come to think of it, that had been in the spring too.
He rolled over on top of Swifty and looked him in the face.
"Did I ever tell you those glasses make you look sexy?"
Swifty looked at him for a moment, absolutely speechless. Then a retort came to him. "Now I know you're high."
"I'm not kidding. They're hot."
"You're such a dork."
"Says the valedictorian."
"It's not my fault I have allergies. You can't make fun of me for it."
"Don't whine you sound like you're five." Bumlets began trailing kisses up along Swifty's collarbone.
"I'm not kidding. It's a pain in the ass to put up with."
"Whatever you say."
"Don't you even care that I'm gonna feel shitty and not be able to wear my contacts for the next month?"
"I told you, they make you look sexy." His teeth scraped Swifty's earlobe.
Bumlets..." he whined, gripping the back of Bumlets' T-shirt to try to push him off.
"Fine. The things I do for you."
Bumlets kissed Swifty passionately and fully on the lips. That shut him up. He stopped trying to push Bumlets off of him and stopped whining. Instead he held Bumlets closer.
Bumlets really did know Swifty well. When he didn't feel well he got whiny and bitchy like a five year old. He was very sensitive about his glasses. And he didn't like to be made and idiot of. Bumlets was very keen on exploiting all of these useful tidbits. He knew the one other thing few others did.
All you had to do was kiss him to shut him up.
Bumlets figured he had about an hour to keep Swifty occupied until the drugs started working. Shouldn't be that hard.