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nataliesfirefly · 11 months ago

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chapter 6 - the wolf in sheep’s clothing

a/n: hey loves! i got a bit carried away with this chapter so it’s a pretty long one, but i hope you love it! warning, lots of angst but no cliffhangers this time 🫶 enjoyyy!

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 5.4k

series masterlist

You don’t think you’ve ever hated your life more than you do right now. You’re drowning in make-up work after you missed two days of school, and you’re also drowning in your feelings for Farleigh. You’re experiencing a plethora of emotions; You love him, you hate him, you want to kiss him, you want to choke him. And not in a good way.

Is he really that much of an idiot that he would fall for Clara? Not only is she dumb, she just tries way too hard. She tries too hard with her appearance, with school work, with making friends. At the end of the day, she doesn’t even have many friends. Now you can see why.

You can’t believe you agreed to help her with school. You always seem to fall for people’s sob stories, unfortunately. You hope she fails all her classes and doesn’t get to study abroad in the states. She doesn’t deserve that opportunity.

But really, are you being too harsh? Maybe she didn’t know that you liked Farleigh. Of course she didn’t know. But she could’ve at least taken the hint, knowing you two were seeming to grow closer lately. Or were you? Was it all in your head?

You run a hand through your hair and sigh with exasperation, leaning down and resting your head upon your desk. You begin to plot your revenge for Clara in your head. Maybe you’d push her down the stairs, or shove her into a street full of moving cars. Actually, that might be a little too harsh, you think.

You look back up and decide to finally start on your calculus assignment. Only Mr. Bailey would give you a six page packet of hellish calculus problems to complete. You’re tempted to just search up an answer key, but you push the thought aside and pick up your pencil.

That Monday, you trudge through the hall, heading to English class. You probably look like hell, based off the glances you earn from some of your fellow students in the corridor. When you looked in the mirror this morning, you saw your almost ghostly reflection, with prominent bags under your eyes and a loss of color in your face. You tried your best to put yourself together, but with how you were feeling, both physically and mentally, your best wasn’t that great. You’re still not completely recovered from your illness, however this weekend gave you the opportunity to rest some more.

You walk into Mrs. Chasteen’s classroom, slightly late, rushing to your regular place, not realizing that Farleigh isn’t sitting there until you’re in your seat. You glance around to see him sitting next to some random guy whose name you forgot. Henry, maybe?

Your eyes meet for a split second before he quickly looks away, avoiding your gaze. You turn back to face the front, shifting in your chair. You clench your fists underneath the table in frustration. Now you’re going to look like an idiot, sitting alone, when everyone knows you and Farleigh always sit together.

“Hey, everything okay?” You glance upwards to see Magdalena carrying her things over to sit with you. “Oh. Erm, yeah.” You nod unconvincingly as she sits down next to you. She raises her eyebrows, clearly not convinced, as you expected.

“Why’s Farleigh sitting with Mason?” Oh. Not Henry.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. Lena nudges you. “I can tell when you’re lying. Come on.” She scoots her chair closer to you and puts her elbows on the table.

“Well, um…” You swallow nervously. You don’t really want to tell Lena what happened, but you feel like she deserves to know. She’s always been there for you. “On Friday we…” You trail off, hoping that she takes the hint.

Her eyes widen and you pray she keeps her voice down. “You what?!” She whisper-screams. “We almost kissed. Almost.” You specify the ‘almost’ part. Because it’s true, you didn’t ever actually kiss him (although you wished you did).

“Wait, how did that even bloody happen?!” She claps a hand over her mouth loudly which earns you two a few side eyes.

“He offered to bring me stuff while I was sick. I don’t know why. But he was sort of… taking care of me? I guess?” You shrug helplessly. You would very much like to jump out of a window right now.

“Oh my… He was taking care of you while you were sick?!” Lena’s jaw drops. You didn’t think it was that big of a deal. “In a friendly way.” You add.

“Friendly way? Pfft. You’ve got to be joking right now.” She facepalms. “What about that is friendly or casual?!” Her voice gets a little too loud and you cringe a bit.

“It’s friendly. He even said it himself, it’s what friends do!” You throw your hands up. “No, no no. You’ve got it all wrong, my friend.” She pats your shoulder.

She leans in closer. “Boys only do that when they like someone. When they care about someone a lot. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” She mutters.

“I predicted this, didn’t I?” Lena smiles with satisfaction, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “I always know these things.” She taps her index finger to her head. “Wait, so why was it an almost kiss?” She lowers her voice once again.

“Right when we were about to kiss, he got a call.” Lena sits up abruptly at your words. “From who?” She asks, her green eyes wide with curiosity. “Clara.” You whisper so quietly, it’s almost inaudible.

“Oh… that bitch.” Her eyes narrow, while yours widen at her language. “I never liked her. I’m going to beat her-”

“Me neither, but there’s nothing we can do. He’s already made his choice.” You slump in your seat. “So he took the call?” Lena asks. You nod. She practically seethes. “What a loser.”

You turn once again to glare at Farleigh. Lena’s right. Clara’s not the only one in the wrong here. What kind of idiot would take that phone call instead of just declining it?

After biology class, you’re walking down the hall when you suddenly see Clara standing by the window, right next to the stairs. How convenient, you think. You cringe before you have to walk past her, hoping she doesn’t say anything to you. However, it is very tempting to reach out and push her down the stairs. You’ve barely made it to the second step when you hear her annoying voice calling your name.

“Long time no see,” She grins with her perfect teeth and you have to refrain from rolling your eyes. “Hi, Clara.” You mutter reluctantly.

“I heard you were sick. I hope you’re doing better now,” She frowns.

“Oh. I am. Thanks.” You reply nonchalantly, looking up at her from the stairs.

“Say, have you gotten the essay for history done yet?” She asks, leaning gingerly up against the wall and twirling her stupid hair. Why is she asking you about an essay? That essay is worth a lot of points though, so it’s pretty important. And it’s due in a week.

“Oh. Yeah, I just have one more paragraph to get done.” You reply. You don’t even bother with a fake smile. Her presence is simply too exhausting.

“You’re so hard working. I wish I could be like you.” Clara sighs longingly, although you know she’s just trying to butter you up.

You clear your throat after a moment of silence. “Do you need something?” You ask with raised eyebrows. She looks extremely offended as she presses a hand to her chest.

“No, of course I don’t. Can’t a friend just ask about an essay?” She asks. You narrow your eyes at her innocent expression.

“It’s just… I think Mr. Larson is a bit too harsh sometimes. He’s so picky with his grading, and I never do well enough for him.” She sighs once again before turning to look out the window in an attempt to look mysterious.

You almost scoff, but you stop yourself. Mr. Larson is one of the easiest graders you know. She must be really stupid.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Clara.” You start to turn to make your way down the stairs, but she continues talking.

“What do you think about him?” She asks suddenly. “I think he’s a great teacher. And really, his grading isn’t even that bad.” You shrug.

“Of course you think that.” She snaps before quickly covering her mouth, her brain registering what just came out of her mouth. “What was that?” You question. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Nothing. I don’t know why I thought you would understand.” She lets out a long sigh for the third time and crosses her arms.

“Clara, what’s the goal here? Are you trying to gain sympathy from me? Are you trying to make me feel bad for being smart?” You’ve had enough of her shit. You walk back up the stairs so that you don’t have to keep looking up at her.

“No.” Some sick part of you feels satisfaction at her widened eyes and fearful expression, although you know you would never resort to physical violence, no matter how tempting.

“Or do you just want help? If you do, just say that.” You offer a fake smile.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want your help. In fact, you’re no help whatsoever anyways. You’re just a bitch,” Her voice raises slightly.

You breathe out of your nose and clench your fists in an attempt to calm yourself.

“Clara, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have the time to help you. We all have our own lives and problems to worry about. I wish you the best of luck with your grades, but I can’t help you anymore.” You turn around to head down the stairs as your voice echoes throughout the stairwell.

“Just be thankful that you’re smart enough for all of this. Not all of us can be like you,” She calls out, and it almost sounds like there’s tears in her eyes. Part of you almost feels bad for her, but it’s not your fault that she’s not smart enough. That’s her parent’s fault for putting her in a school that is known for being competitive and rigorous.

You head out of the building and walk faster than usual, your anger spurring you on. She’s such a manipulator.

Three days later, you finally arrive back in your room after a long day. “Ugh.” You sigh as you close the door behind you, running a hand through your hair. You sit on the edge of your bed and pull your phone out from the pocket of your coat.

You look down at the screen as you scroll through you and Farleigh’s messages. It’s been a long six days without talking to him, and it’s starting to get to you. You hate that you’ve gotten so attached to a man. It’s stupid, really. You never thought this of all things would happen to you. You’ve always been independent, never relying on others for happiness.

But everything has changed within the past four months, and it’s like torture. You hate these feelings. Everything would have stayed normal if you had just kept Farleigh at arm’s length, and maybe your stupid crush would have gone away. You could just be friends, no matter how excruciating that unrequited love would be.

You set your phone face down on your bed and stand up. You have a French assignment to finish, so you head over to your desk to grab your laptop.

However, your laptop isn’t there. You always keep it there to charge, and when it’s not there, it’s in your backpack. But you dropped off your backpack earlier and took your laptop out to charge before you went to grab dinner.

You walk over to your backpack and unzip it, peering inside for your laptop. Still not there. You huff in frustration and glance around your room.

Maybe it’s on your bed. You shuffle over to your bed and search under your blankets and pillows, but it’s not there either.

You panic a bit, but you continue searching. You check under your bed, under your desk, in your closet, under your bedside table, in your drawers, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

“Ugh!” You groan loudly, flopping onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. “The one time I need to work…” You mutter defeatedly. You remember placing it on your desk and plugging in the charger not even two hours ago. You think you might be going insane.

You figure that it’s probably somewhere around campus and someone would find it and return it to you. Thanks to your dad, you have a small label with your phone number on it on your laptop. That way, if it ever gets lost and needs to be returned, someone can just call the number. You’re hoping to receive a call soon.

Due to your exhaustion, you decide to just get ready for bed. You’ll worry about it tomorrow.

The next day, you search around the campus for your laptop, and there’s still no sign of it. You ask some of your classmates if they’ve seen it, to which they all said no. You figure you must have just been going crazy last night and it was in your room the whole time.

So, that evening, you return to your room to look for it once again. And there it is, sitting on your desk. You rub your eyes quickly to make sure you’re not hallucinating. You blink and then widen your eyes, stepping forward to inspect further. It’s charging, like it always is, in its usual spot.

“What the fuck…” You whisper, completely astonished. There’s no way this is real, you think to yourself. Maybe life is a simulation after all.

You sit down at your desk and open your laptop curiously. You type in your password and it opens to the regular screen. Everything seems to be looking normal. You open your emails. Normal. The only new email is from a university offering tours.

“Hm.” You hum, opening your French assignment and getting to work. Everything is as you left it, so you’re confused why it just disappeared yesterday.

A few minutes later, your phone begins to ring. You pick it up from your bed and smile after seeing Lena’s name on the screen. You happily answer. “Hello?”

“Hey girl. Code red. I see Clara and Farleigh walking together outside of the library.” She whispers conspicuously. You quirk an eyebrow and sit down on the edge of your bed.

“Um… Okay?” You reply, the confusion evident in your voice.

“I just thought I’d let you know. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but he looks slightly annoyed.” She reports.

“I would be annoyed too if I had to talk to her,” You giggle and you can hear Lena snickering a bit on the other line.

“No kidding. I just really don’t get what he sees in her,” She replies.

“Me neither.” Suddenly, an unwarranted and frightening image pops into your head. “Wait, they’re not like… holding hands or something, are they?” You ask nervously while biting your nails.

“No. Thankfully. I’m trying to follow them without looking obvious. She’s talking really… passionately.” Lena explains.

It goes silent for a minute and you can only hear the sounds of the wind.

“Oh my God.” She says seriously.

“What?!”

“I swear I just heard her say your name,” Lena hisses abruptly. You roll your eyes.

“She probably did. I’m sure she loves talking about me.” You sigh, playing with the corner of a blanket.

“Okay. She walked off and now he’s just sitting on a bench. Oh, wait. I think he sees me.” You can’t help but giggle at the level of intensity in her voice. “He definitely saw me.” She squeaks, and you can hear the sound of hurried footsteps in the background.

“Well, thanks for the update.” You laugh. “Of course,” She responds, breathing heavily after her escape.

“See you later!” You smile as you hang up, tossing your phone back onto your bed.

You try to ignore the feelings of jealousy building back up again, but it’s almost impossible. You groan and run your hands down your face.

You walk through one of the long hallways after French class, admiring the stonework and stained glass you’ve walked past so many times. You breathe in the air, admiring the quiet atmosphere. You’re always grateful for these rare moments when no one else is in the corridor and you can just enjoy yourself.

But sometimes, the silence creeps you out. It’s almost eerie, in a way. And then you start to think about all the rumors about how some of the buildings on campus are haunted. Is this one of them?

You glance around, almost feeling panicked, until realizing that you’re being silly. Ghosts don’t exist. Or do they? You shake your head. “Pfft.”

And then, at that moment, you hear footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. You whip around to check behind you. No one’s there. The footsteps continue. You turn back to face ahead, walking a bit faster now. Your heart rate picks up as the footsteps grow faster as well.

Suddenly, you feel someone grab you by the arm and pull you forcefully into an empty classroom. You manage to get out a quick squeak, but you’re so frightened that you can’t even scream. Is today the day you die? Are you really going to be the next ghost story of the school?

You squeeze your eyes shut, until you breathe in a familiar scent. A fancy and probably expensive cologne. You open your eyes to see that Farleigh is the one gripping your arm and standing a little too close.

“Farleigh? What the hell are you doing?!” You shout, pummeling him in the chest with your fists. You’re just angry at this point.

“Okay, okay. Calm down!” He lets go of your arm and stumbles backwards. You can see a proud smirk on his face. His goal all along was to scare you. Figures.

“You little– Don’t you ever sneak up on me like that again!” You tell him angrily, pointing a finger at him.

“Were you really that scared?” He’s doubled over with laughter, barely managing to get a sentence out. He glances up at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?” He pauses his laughter.

“No, of course I don’t. Well, maybe a little bit.” He bursts into laughter again. “Shut up!” You walk forward and gather a handful of his hair, yanking on the curls harshly. “Ow!” He exclaims, reaching up and shielding the top of his head from you.

You almost forgot everything that’s happened with Farleigh for the past few weeks. You sigh and sit down on a desk, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head. “What do you want?” You ask.

Suddenly, his expression turns serious. “Alright, you need to listen to me. Okay?” He steps closer to you, and for once you’re finally at eye level with him since you’re up on the desk.

“Okay…” You narrow your eyes suspiciously. He looks panicked and it seems that whatever he needs to tell you is urgent.

“And promise not to freak out.” He adds on. “I can’t promise that.” You shake your head. He sighs with exasperation.

“Okay. Basically…” He trails off and then huffs, turning around and pinching the space between his eyes. “Just get on with it!” You exclaim, slowly losing your patience.

“Okay, okay! Jeez. A few nights ago, Clara stole your laptop while you were away from your room, emailed your entire history essay to herself, and then put it back in your room.” Farleigh explains quickly.

Your jaw drops. You can’t even process the information, let alone think of the right words to say in response.

“The essay is due today, and she’s going to turn in your whole essay and claim it as her own.” He continues.

“I know it’s due today, you idiot!” You shout, completely losing your shit. “She probably already turned it in! It’s fucking three o’clock!” You tell him, hopping off of the desk and pacing around the room.

“Did you know about this the whole time?” You whip around to face him. “You knew about her stupid little plan and you only just now told me?!” You exclaim angrily, feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

“I knew but I didn’t think she was actually going to do it. Please, don’t take it out on me. I know you’re mad. She’s a complete idiot. She’s a fraud.” He walks up to you, grabbing you by the shoulders. You stare into his eyes and search for his sincerity.

You shrug out of his grasp and walk away from him. “No. I am going to take it out on you. You’re a backstabber, Farleigh.” You turn back around to stare him down. “You knew that she was planning this. You could have stopped it before it happened. You could have told me.” You feel the tears threatening to fall at any second.

“I know, I know. We were just in awkward place, and–”

“And whose fault is that?” You snap. He flinches a bit at your harsh words.

“I’m sorry. I really am. But we can make this right, I swear.” He tries to reassure you.

“How did I not see the email?” You mutter under your breath, but apparently Farleigh hears you. “She deleted it after she sent it.” He explains.

“Maybe she’s not so dumb after all. Can you text her and see if she already submitted it? I forgot to turn mine in earlier today, damnit.” You groan.

“Yeah. I’ll ask real quick.” He pulls out his phone and sends her a text quickly. Only a few seconds later, his phone vibrates with a notification. “Shit. She already turned it in,” He looks back up at you. All the color drains from your face.

“Farleigh, that essay was half our grade for this term! I’m going to get expelled if they think I plagiarized it!” You turn away, not wanting to let him see you cry.

“Hold on, let’s be rational here. Every teacher here knows how dumb Clara is, okay? They won’t believe for a second that she wrote all that herself. You’re an amazing writer, and Clara could never get on your level.” You feel a hand on your lower back. You look up and over your shoulder at Farleigh, appreciating his warm and comforting gaze. You could get used to him calling Clara dumb.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “Just turn it in, and see what happens. Larson probably won’t even look at the time of the submissions.” He pats your back reassuringly.

“Okay.” You’re a bit too prideful to apologize for being so angry at him, so you decide to wait. You’ll say sorry when the time is right.

“Okay. Are you good?” He smooths out the hair on the top of your head and you try to ignore the tingly and warm sensation you get from his touch. You nod. “Mhm.”

“Call me if you need me.” Farleigh gives you one last pat on the head before walking out of the door. You watch him leave and suddenly feel guilty for how you treated him. Sure, he was wrong for not telling you Clara’s plan, but he didn’t really think she was going to go through with it. Who actually goes through with a plan like that? Apparently Clara.

Two days later, you get the email you’ve been dreading since Farleigh told you the news. In said email, Mr. Larson requested that you come to his office to discuss certain ‘accusations.’

You believe that Mr. Larson likes you as a student, he usually gives you great grades and good feedback on your work. You and him even joke around during class sometimes. So, you’re hoping that he understands the whole situation and believes you over that dumb blonde bitch.

You decide to call Farleigh and tell him about this. You bite your lip as you wait for him to answer. It’s nine AM on a Saturday, so there’s a good chance that he might still be asleep.

“Hello?” You smile at the sound of his deep and slightly raspy voice. It always brings you so much peace and comfort, though you’re not sure why. You remind yourself to stay serious, considering the topic at hand.

“Hey, Mr. Larson just emailed me. He’s asking for me to come to his office. I don’t know what to do.” You bite one of your fingernails as you await his response. You hear him take a deep breath before exhaling quickly.

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll go with you, and I can testify for you. I’ll tell him the whole truth about what Clara did.” He explains matter-of-factly. Your eyes widen in surprise. You didn’t think he would actually help you solve the problem.

“And how do you know that he’ll believe you?” You ask.

“Because I have proof,” Farleigh replies. “I have texts I can show him. He can’t argue with that.” You hear a smirk in his voice.

“Alright, alright. Meet me outside the east wing in ten minutes.” You tell him. “Roger that.” He responds. You waste no time, hurriedly shuffling over to your closet to get dressed and ready.

You stand outside the old building, leaning against the wall and patiently waiting for Farleigh to show up. You see his familiar tall and lanky figure in the distance, and he seems to spot you too. He waves and begins to jog in order to get to you faster.

“Hey. Made it,” He winks playfully and you roll your eyes affectionately. “So you did. Let’s go.” You almost have the urge to reach out and grab his hand as you walk in, but you don’t.

Sooner or later, you arrive outside of Mr. Larson’s door. You knock on it timidly, glancing up at Farleigh. He nods encouragingly.

The door swings open, and you are met with a sort of chaotic looking Mr. Larson. His hair is messy, unlike how it’s usually styled with gel, and he looks tired. He’s holding a mug that says, ‘Best Grandpa.’ Last time you checked, he doesn’t even have kids. At this point, you’re a whole lot less intimidated by him.

“Hello.” He greets with a nod of his head, before turning to look up at Farleigh. “Ah. Mr. Start.” He nods again before opening the door further, stepping back to let you both inside. “Come in, come in.” He gestures with his free hand.

You both go to sit in the two chairs situated in front of his desk. He follows close behind after shutting the door. He sits down with a heavy sigh that clearly says, ‘I don’t get paid enough for this.’

“Well then. Let’s get this started, shall we?” He chuckles before clearing his throat and getting serious. “I was grading your essays yesterday, and I noticed that two of them were exactly the same. Down to the punctuation. And I thought, this can’t be normal. There’s something… fishy going on here.” You hear Farleigh make an odd sound next to you, and you look over to see him covering his mouth in an attempt not to laugh.

“I called up Clara Greene, who was in that class period when I was grading, and asked her about it. She was shocked and appalled by this, and made a whole scene in front of the class, claiming that you plagiarized her essay.” Mr. Larson looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. “Is that true?”

“No. It’s absolutely not true. I wrote that essay, and she plagiarized it. I mean, come on, Mr. Larson, do you really think Clara Greene could write that? Be honest.” You quickly defend yourself with a strong voice. His brown eyes twinkle with amusement.

“Well… To be fair… No. I don’t think she could write that. However, I did check the times on the submissions. Her’s was at 3:14 PM and your’s was at 5:54 PM. So, it does raise some suspicions.” He takes a sip of his hot tea. “As an employee of the school, I legally have to inspect these matters very closely. We do not take things like this lightly, and although I would much rather be outside walking my dog, I have to get to the bottom of this.”

“I understand that, but sir, I promise you that I wrote that essay. I would never, ever even think about plagiarizing. Especially for a class I really enjoy.” Mr. Larson smiles at the last sentence.

“I appreciate that. Just remember, we have a no tolerance policy for plagiarism, so if this is true, you could risk getting expelled. I’m sure you don’t want that.” He glances back and forth between you and Farleigh. “Between you and I, though, I don’t think you did it. I just need proof to know for sure.”

“I have proof, sir. Right here.” Farleigh holds up his phone, the text messages open. Mr. Larson’s eyes widen and he rubs his hands together. “Let’s see it, then.” Farleigh hands over his phone and guides him through the messages, explaining each thing she sent.

“Alright then. It’s settled. Can’t argue with cold hard proof.” He sighs and stands up from his desk. “Thank you, young man. What a very noble act to defend your… friend here.” He gestures to you with a strange look on his face. “And Clara will be facing punishments soon enough.” He confirms.

“Will she get expelled?” You can’t help but ask. It would make your entire year if she did.

“Perhaps. The consequences will certainly be worse because she lied even further about it. But don’t worry about her. Go enjoy the rest of your weekend.” He gestures to the door and you both nod, heading out.

“Thank you so much. Without those texts, I would’ve been toast.” You tell Farleigh as you both walk down the hall towards the exit. “Yeah. Anytime. It’s the least I could do to make it up to you,” He replies.

You stop in your tracks and he stops beside you. “About that. I’m sorry that I got so upset with you. It wasn’t your fault. I was just… really mad at her.” You explain sheepishly, looking down at the ground with your hands behind your back.

“It’s okay. I promise.” Farleigh smiles softly as you look up at him. A question pops into your head and now you just have to ask.

“Do you still like her?” You ask. He looks taken aback. “What?” He responds.

“I thought you liked her. Romantically.” You clarify, blushing at your stupid use of the word.

“Oh. Absolutely not. I never liked her. I think that,” He pauses and glances up at the ceiling as he finds the right words. “I liked the attention she gave me. No one’s ever shown a real interest in me before like she did. She wanted me. I felt wanted, so I felt like I had to reciprocate. But I didn’t even see her that way.” He explains in a softer voice.

Oh. It makes so much more sense now. You almost feel frustrated. You want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him how much you want him. He is wanted. He is loved. By you. How can he not see that? He’s so smart with practical things, but when it comes to romance, he’s the biggest idiot. You wonder if you should tell him that, but then you decide it’s not the right time. If he would just open his eyes, he would see what’s right in front of him.

“I think there’s a lot of people who think you’re amazing.” You reply quietly. He shrugs. “Maybe. I’d like to think so.” You smile at each other before continuing down the hall.

#saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh saltburn

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nataliesfirefly · 11 months ago

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chapter 5 - in sickness and in health

a/n: yay new chapter!! i was looking forward to writing this chapter so much, since i’m such a sucker for sick fics! it’s definitely a bit of a filler chapter but still important to the story if you get what i mean… i just wanted to give y’all some fluff as a gift for how kind y’all have been, so enjoy!! 🤍

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 4.6k

series masterlist

Spring term is when the real hell starts. It’s when things become more competitive, and when you really have to focus on your grades. Especially for yourself, since you want to apply to Oxford, and you will be applying this fall. Everytime you remember that applications are due in October, which is less than 9 months away, you feel your heart drop. And that means admission tests are also 9 months away. You inhale shakily at the thought, realizing you’ll have to spend a lot of time studying and preparing for that this summer.

But your classes have been going well, and you haven’t made below a 95 on a single assignment or test. Christmas holiday gave you a very nice, well-needed break, but it also reminded you that you needed to get back on the grind.

And as for your… dilemma, Farleigh, well– you can’t seem to get him off your mind. It is truly the most annoying feeling, you think. You’ve never been one to obsess or fantasize over boys, since your academics have usually taken precedence over everything in your life, including your thoughts in your freetime.

But during the break, you didn’t have assignments or homework to fill your mind. Instead, you laid awake at night, staring at the ceiling, picturing Farleigh’s face, trying to recreate his voice in your mind. You became so desperate one night that you almost picked up your phone and called him, just to hear his voice. Having his number is very tempting sometimes, you’ve realized.

Since you were only around your parents during the break (and some of your hometown friends), you didn’t have anyone to bicker with or pointlessly argue with. Farleigh wasn’t there to make you smile sarcastically or roll your eyes with barely hidden affection after one of his witty remarks.

When you walked into English class on the first day back, you realized your heart was racing way faster than what is considered normal. You looked around for Farleigh before realizing he hadn’t arrived yet. You felt a tap on your shoulder once you had settled into your seat, and you spun around, although it wasn’t who you expected.

“Lena!! Hey!” You stand up excitedly, embracing your friend Magdalena who you’ve grown quite close to this year. She’s always been in your classes, you just never introduced yourself properly or talked much.

“Hi! How was holiday?” She asked and sat down next to you. “Good. It was really nice to relax,” You smiled at her before turning back around to watch the door, only seeing your familiar classmates walk through the threshold.

“You? Relaxing? I find that hard to believe.” Lena teased you before clearing her throat. “Well, I’m going to go sit with Olivia. It seems like you’re waiting for someone,” You turned back to face her to see a mischievous smile on her face. “Lena,” You groaned, despite the fact that you were actually hoping she would leave the seat next to you open for… a certain someone.

And then Farleigh finally walked in. A grin immediately broke out across your face, and your heart leaped out of your chest. You knew it was cringy and corny and stupid, but you still allowed the feeling to chip at the walls built around your heart. When you think back on that moment, you wonder how you managed to fall so hard for the boy you used to hate and curse under your breath. But did you ever hate him? Or were you just blinded by your own pride and narcissism?

You sat up straighter and fixed your posture, keeping your eyes trained on him as he greeted Mrs. Chasteen on his way in. You waited and waited for him to look up and catch your gaze. And finally, he did. And God, the way his dark eyes twinkled when he met your eyes; You swear that you could see the stars within them.

Your heart rate picked up once again as he made his way over to your table and sat down next to you. For once, you were struggling to come up with what to say or how to make your greeting less awkward.

Once he was settled in his seat, you cleared your throat nervously. “Hi,” You’re positive that the smile on your face was absolutely dumb.

“Hi.” Farleigh replied, sending a smile of his own back to you. His smile, dear Lord. It’s going to be the death of you one day.

“How was the–”

“How was your–”

You two began speaking at the same time, and then after realizing you had done so, you both let out a little chuckle.

“Sorry, you first.” You said as you felt that familiar heat rush up into your face.

“How was your break?” He asked. For a moment you heard genuine care in his voice, like it wasn’t just small talk he was obliged to engage in.

“It was good. Really nice. I spent a lot of time with my family, and I ate a lot. Maybe too much,” You cut yourself off before you rambled too much.

He snickered at your words, then shrugged. “That’s what holidays are for, though, aren’t they?” He tilted his head in a way that reminded you of a puppy. You wanted to reach out and cup his face before you remembered how stupid that would be.

“How was yours?” You asked to be polite, but you were also curious about how he spent his time over the three weeks. However, his joyful expression seemed to drop a bit and his eyes flickered down towards the ground.

“It was… alright, I guess.” He shrugged nonchalantly, clearly trying to push his feelings down. You raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Do you want to… talk about it?” You offered while lowering your voice. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, considering your question.

“My mom was supposed to visit me this Christmas. She lives back in America, you know. She called me like, super late the night that we got out of school and told me she wouldn’t be able to make it. So I went to stay with a friend.” He explained while you nodded away the whole time. He looked back up at you with his eyes full of complicated emotions.

“Oh. Shit, I’m sorry. That must be… rough.” You were never good at comforting people, and you felt even worse about the situation remembering that you spent your whole break fantazising and daydreaming about him while he was going through that.

“It’s fine. I’m used to her not showing up. I just wonder how I got so unlucky.” Those words shattered your heart and you suddenly felt something different for him. Not pity, but… empathy.

Then you realized that this also probably confirmed that he wasn’t thinking about you at all during winter break. No, he had bigger things to worry about. Like his own mother not wanting to see him or show up for him. You just felt stupid in that moment.

Before you got to attempt to comfort him further, Mrs. Chasteen announced that class was beginning.

If only there was some way to tell Farleigh that he is wanted and appreciated without revealing your true feelings to him. If only he knew how many hours you spend thinking about him or how many times he crosses your mind in a day.

Yesterday, you woke up in the early hours of the morning with a very sore throat and chills. You sat up, took a sip of water, and convinced yourself that you would be feeling better in just two hours and well enough to go to class. You hate missing school, especially with how far behind it puts you with all the make-up work.

You got out of bed two hours later, feeling worse, and so unbearably hot that you had to turn on your ceiling fan in January. You were practically sweating as you tried to button your shirt and step into your skirt. Your body felt like it got hit by a train, then beaten up, and thrown out into the desert to rot. Your legs, arms, and even your fingers and toes ached. Eventually, you grew so weak that you passed out, and you woke up on the floor thirty minutes later with a pounding headache.

At that point, there was no chance of you getting to class. You had no choice but to crawl back into bed, throw all the blankets off, and fall back to sleep (which didn’t prove to be difficult at all).

You tried to get up and complete some homework, but you just couldn’t focus or get anything done with how awful you felt. So the whole day, and evening, you stayed in bed and slept on and off. You were confident that you could return to school the next morning and that you would be feeling much improved. After all, your illnesses never lasted very long.

But now, as you stare at the ceiling, you realize that sentiment was very foolish. You’re shivering, with the blankets pulled up to your chin, and yet still you cannot gather any bit of warmth. You groan and turn on your side, coughing a bit from the movement. You haven’t eaten anything in the past 24 hours except some saltines, a staple your mother insisted you have in your dorm for times like these.

You can’t fathom getting out of your very comfortable bed right now. But you need to hydrate and eat something more substantial, even though you aren’t hungry.

Just then, your phone vibrates next to you. You pick it up and turn it over to see a text. From Farleigh?!

You sit up a little too quickly and then regret it shortly after as your head spins. You squint down at your screen to read the message.

“Are you coming to class today?”

You glance at the time in the top left corner of the screen. English would be starting right about now. You press your lips together as you try to form a response.

“No, I’m really sick.” You reply.

“Oh. How sick?” He responds. You chuckle weakly at his text. Of course Farleigh would want to know that.

“Very. Extremely. Can’t get out of bed sick.” You type out. You bite your lip as you send it, smiling at your humorous response. You notice it takes him a while to begin typing again.

“O shit. Have you eaten? Drank water?” He asks. You stare at his text. Is he… concerned for you? Does he genuinely care about your wellbeing right now? You’ve never been good at finding the hidden meanings behind texts, but why would he ask that unless he cared about you? Why wouldn’t he say something like, ‘Feel better!’ or, ‘That sucks’?

“Drank all the water I could find in my room yesterday. And only eaten saltine crackers.” You reply.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Your heart skips a bit at his response. He’s in the middle of class… why would he offer that? You’re almost too prideful to ask him for help, but you reluctantly type something out, accepting your defeat.

“Ummm yes. Can you get me some painkillers and some food? Idc what it is” You reply before quickly typing out a second text. “But ur in the middle of class, don’t skip because of me” You tell him.

He reads the text and you expect him to begin typing a response, but he doesn’t. Damn it. You probably knocked some sense into him and he realized he can’t leave during English or even skip his next class. You groan and slap your hand to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling onto your back.

An hour or so of twisting and turning and your stomach growling with hunger goes by until you hear a knock on your door. You abruptly sit up and try to fix your bird’s nest of hair, but it’s probably no use. You gather the blankets up around your chest to hide your lack of a bra under your T-shirt. You clear your throat before calling out weakly, “Come in!”

The door opens slowly and Farleigh stands in the doorway, two brown paper bags in his arms and the smell of food wafting into your room. You clutch at your stomach to hopefully keep it from sounding like a demon while it growls, smiling weakly up at him.

He surveys your appearance and you suddenly become very self conscious as his eyes trail up and down your mostly hidden body. He’s probably noticing the sheen of sweat across your face, and the strands of hair that are stuck to your forehead because of it, or the bags under your tired eyes. “Are you about to say I look like shit?” You ask hoarsely.

Farleigh shakes his head and then pauses, his eyes sweeping over your face again. “No. Actually, you look pretty good for someone who made it seem like they were on the verge of death.” He teases, and you thank God for your fever or he would’ve noticed the blush that arose onto your cheeks.

“I feel like I’m on the verge of death, though.” A cough conveniently rises from your throat. You quickly raise your arm to cover your mouth, being extra cautious since Farleigh is here. You would feel awful if you got him sick. You shift a bit once you notice him walking closer to your bed.

“I don’t want to get you sick,” You tell him as you scoot back as far as you can, your back against the headboard. “You won’t. And even if you do, I don’t mind.” He reassures you with his comforting eyes. You nod before sneezing abruptly. He snickers quietly.

He sits on the edge of your bed, keeping a comfortable distance between the two of you. He leans forward slightly to hand you one of the bags, placing the other one at the foot of the bed. “I got you bagels from the bakery near the school,” He explains as you take the bag gratefully and peer inside of it.

You raise your gaze to meet his, pure and utter adoration filling your heart at his words. “You– How did you know I like bagels?” You ask, unable to contain your happiness.

“You’ve walked into English with them all the time, and I wondered where you kept getting them from until I read the name on the bag.” He explains sheepishly. He’s right, you do have a habit of grabbing a nice breakfast bagel before class from time to time. But the fact he paid that much attention to you is unbelievable.

“Thank you. I’m starving. I must have just gotten my appetite back.” You begin to pull some things out of the bag, including a beautiful, round bagel sandwich wrapped in parchment paper. You place a napkin in your lap and unwrap it excitedly, your fingers a bit shaky. You take a bite before Farleigh can even tell you what kind of sandwich it is. However, you quickly realize it’s one of your favorites, smoked salmon and cream cheese.

Your eyes light up as you chew the delightful bite, and Farleigh smiles as he watches you enjoy the food. Then suddenly, a look of concern overtakes his face.

“Wait, you haven’t been throwing up, have you?” He asks. You shake your head. “No. Not yet, at least.” You shudder at the thought of throwing up. You hate it so much.

“You would have by now, I think. It’s a good sign you’re hungry.” He glances around your room, taking in the surroundings. “Hm. Simple decor.” He notes.

“Yeah. I couldn’t be bothered to decorate my room.” You shrug nonchalantly and he chuckles. “What?” You narrow your eyes at him as you take another bite. “Nothing, it’s just… That’s something only you would say.” He grins and shakes his head. “Well, I just said it, so…” You grin back at him, since his smiles are so contagious.

“What’s the other one?” You ask curiously, almost done with your first bagel sandwich. You would have been embarrased that you wolfed it down so quickly in front of Farleigh if it weren’t for your intense hunger.

“I think it’s a breakfast one. Like, bacon and stuff.” He replies. He gestures to the other paper bag. “I also brought you medicine. Painkillers and some basic cold and flu meds.” He explains. “And some water, cause you need to stay hydrated.” He pulls a few water bottles out from the bag and sets them on your bedside table.

“Who knew that Farleigh Start would be such a good caretaker?” You ask sarcastically. “Oh, hush.” He rolls his eyes dramatically and you smile at the sight. You begin to feel a bit weak, the burst of energy from earlier when he first arrived fading away. You set the bag aside, saving the other bagel for later. You’ll just warm it up in your microwave when you feel like it.

“Did you leave during English?” You question, positioning yourself more comfortably, laid back against the pillows.

“No. The reason I stopped texting was because I got yelled at,” His face turns a bit red. You gasp for dramatic effect. “I left right after to go get your stuff. I even skipped my next class.” He confesses.

“You? Skipping class? Wow.” You laugh, which is more of a wheeze now, and then it turns into a few coughs. “Yeah, you’re lucky I did that for you.” He says teasingly.

For some reason, the words ‘for you’ continue to echo in your mind shortly after he said that. He skipped one of his classes for you. He’s probably skipping one right now by being here with you instead.

“Thank you, Farleigh.” You say, your voice more serious this time. “Anytime. That’s what friends are for.” He replies. Friends. You feel like a shard of glass has just been stabbed into your heart. He basically just confirmed that he would never see you as more than just a friend.

“I’m feeling pretty hot,” You sigh and throw some of the blankets off of you, completely forgetting that you were supposed to be covering up. His eyes dart down to your body, clearly not used to seeing you in such informal clothing, such as the old T-shirt and pajama shorts you’re currently wearing. Usually, you only see each other in your uniforms. He drags his gaze back up to yours, and you can’t help but notice there’s a slight blush forming on his face.

Farleigh clears his throat. “Do you… um… have a fever?” You nod. “It’s been on and off for two days now. It’s so annoying,” You groan. He scoots a bit closer to you, still staying on the edge of the bed, but inching ever so closer. You go completely still as he raises the back of his hand slowly to your forehead to feel the heat of your fever. You stare up into his eyes, like warm pools of honey, sparkling like amber in the sunlight. He stares right back at you, his gaze completely melting you into a useless puddle. Your lips part slightly as you sigh softly and lean forward to feel his hand up against your skin. Just feeling his skin against yours begins to stoke a fire in your veins, and it’s electrifying and exciting and dangerous. You want so badly to lean forward and press your lips to his, to finally know how he tastes. His eyes travel down to your lips for only a beautiful moment, and you foolishly believe that your dreams would finally come true, before they make their way back up to your own gaze. You attempt to calm your ridicuously uneven breaths and your fluttering heartbeat as he pulls his hand away from you, standing up and clearing his throat again.

“Here. Take some of those meds, they’ll help with your fever.” Farleigh takes the other bag and hands it to you. You peek inside to see a few bottles of over-the-counter medicine and look back up at him with a nod.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” You smile gratefully. “Yeah. Call me if you need anything else.” He nods matter-of-factly before walking to your door. “Remember to drink that water,” He adds, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “Yes sir,” You salute him playfully and he grins before opening the door, stepping out, and shutting it gently behind him.

You let out a long breath, staring off into space as you begin to replay the moment you just shared with him. He had to have felt it, too. That magnetic connection, almost like you were being pulled towards him by some invisible force.

That evening, you feel a bit better, but you have this itching feeling like you need to call Farleigh. It’s not the first time this has happened, of course, but now at least you have an excuse to call him. He did say to call him if you needed anything, right? What if you just need him? Of course you wouldn’t say that, but it’s fun to imagine how he would react.

You nervously press the call button and wait patiently as the phone rings. Once. Twice. You bite your lip. Were you really so foolish to think he would answer your–

“What’s up?” You have to stop yourself from squealing at Farleigh’s voice coming from your phone, so instead you just kick your feet under the blankets.

“Um. Not much, I’m just–”

“Are you okay? Do you feel worse? Or better?” He sounds a bit panicked, based off his tone and the staccato of his voice.

You chuckle softly. “Better. I’m just a little hungry, do you think you could bring me some food?” You ask, trying to sound shy and embarrassed to persuade him, perhaps.

The truth of the matter is that you’re not even hungry at all. If he were here right now, you’d be batting your eyelashes for the full effect. You’re not sure where this newfound confidence came from.

“Yeah, of course. What do you want?” He asks, and from the noise coming from his end, you can guess he’s shuffling around and trying to gather his belongings before setting out on the quest for your meal. “Anything from the dining hall. I really like the caesar salad,” You inform him. Which is not a lie.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon, m’lady.” You grin at the new nickname he’s given you. “Thanks,” You hang up before he can, standing up to go brush your hair and throw on a hoodie to avoid earlier’s… problems.

Soon enough, there’s a knock at your door as you sit with your legs tucked underneath you on your bed. “Come in,” You call out. Farleigh walks in with a prepared caesar salad from the dining hall, just as you requested.

“That was fast,” You remark as he walks over to your bed, bowing as he hands you the salad like he’s some kind of servant. You set it to the side, though, and he quirks an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were hungry.” He says.

“Sort of.” You shrug and bite back a smile as you notice his confused expression. “Okay…” He trails off, suspicion evident in his voice. You scoot back and make room for him, and he takes the hint and sits on the edge of your bed.

“So… Uni applications are coming up.” You remark, trying to make conversation. “Coming up? Your concept of time is definitely… interesting. They’re in October,” He raises his eyebrows. “It’ll be here before you know it,” You shrug, to which he just shakes his head.

“Which one of us do you think will get in?” You ask curiously, leaning forward and tilting your head. Farleigh narrows his eyes at you. “Me. Obviously.” He says it like the answer is completely obvious and there’s no question about it. You roll your eyes. “Alright. Come off it. I think we both have a pretty good chance at getting in.”

“They won’t take two from the same school, you know that.” He replies. “Well, not unless both applicants are super, super qualified.” You smile and he eventually does too.

“Imagine if we both didn’t get in and all of this was for nothing,” He jokes with a soft chuckle. At first, you’re sad at the idea, but then you begin to giggle. “That would be so ironic, wouldn’t it?”

“It would.” He agrees. Then, both of you go quiet and there’s a strange shift in the atmosphere. You look down and begin to fidget with your hands at pick at your nails.

“Did your fever break?” He asks. “Yeah, a few hours ago. The medicine helped. Thanks again,” You look back up at him and nod gratefully. “You don’t have to keep thanking me, seriously.” He reaches forward and places a hand on your lower thigh. You look down and then back up at him, feeling your cheeks turning beet red.

“But it’s a shame, cause I liked you better without the hoodie,” He lowers his voice to that raspy, quiet tone he uses when he flirts, and it makes you weak everytime. Your eyes widen at his words and you blink a few times to make sure you’re not dreaming.

“Oh.” You say stupidly. His hand travels upwards to cup one side of your face gently, his thumb moving back and forth across the skin of your cheek. You close your eyes and melt into his touch, relishing in the feeling of his skin on yours once again. You open your eyes to see his gaze boring into yours, staring into the depths of your soul. “What are you doing?” Your voice is hoarse, weak, and breathless, and you don’t really know how you gained the courage to speak in such a precious moment.

And then, he leans forward. Ever so slightly, but he leans closer to you, and closer, until his lips brush against yours teasingly. Your noses touch for a split second and you tilt your head out of instinct. You can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears and your heart beating against your ribcage. He’s so close, yet so far, and you’re still trying to figure out whether you should make the move and kiss him first or if you should wait for him to take the next step. However, you’ve never been kissed before, so you decide to stick with the latter. It seems safer, anyway.

Suddenly, his phone rings. “Shit,” He curses. You look up to see a furious blush dusting his cheeks. He pulls away and you almost groan at the loss of proximity.

He pulls out his phone from his back pocket and glances down at the screen to see who’s calling. Unfortunately, you can see the screen from your angle, too, and your heart drops with dread at the fact that Clara is calling Farleigh.

He scrambles off the bed and declines the call.. “I need to go. I’m sorry,” He says breathlessly, rushing out of the door and closing it behind him hurriedly.

You stare at the door, feeling dumbfounded, shocked, envious, and disappointed all at once. What the fuck just happened?

#saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh saltburn

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