#i shouldnt make it worse and set something lower but i kind of want to..................

[talkorsomething]

...well, i now officially know i've lost weight.

Like... a lot? a lot more than i had thought?

Which is. Odd because honestly pretty much everything still feels like it fits about the same...

I guess it explains why i've been more cold?!

+ also i dont know Why it's so much... if i start eating like a normal human being again i don't... really *want* to go over where i started? :/ i guess i'd maybe be fine w/ being about the same because i know it won't be That big of a difference. Or i don't think it will anyways? Hm...

[lgbtyrus]

TJ’s Playlist Chapter 6

Story Summary: When Cyrus finds a playlist on TJ’s desktop full of old love songs, he realizes that TJ has never been a scary basketball guy but rather a huge sap. TJ just wished Cyrus could realize that all of those songs remind him of a certain boy who likes chocolate chocolate chip muffins without telling him directly.

With insecurities and fears almost set in stone, it’s hard for TJ to admit that he has a heart aching crush on Cyrus who is trying to avoid just that. Of course, it doesn’t seem like both of them are trying to get over each other when they’re always together.

Ao3 Link | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Words: 4252

Warning: angst, they cuss now

Cyrus found himself still lying awake in his dark room. His blanket had been thrown to the side, and he was sweating. He made his way to his restroom, and when he was washing his hands, he looked up at his mirror. He looked exhausted. He had told TJ goodnight and his intentions were to fall asleep right away like he had for the last few years. It was a gift Andi and Buffy always told him that they envied.

Only he couldn’t.

He kept thinking about his conversation with Buffy and wondered if there was anything that they had done that made her ask that question. What had put the idea in her head?

The only thing that drove him crazier was that he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. When had put the polaroid of him and TJ in his journal, he doodled a heart on the side without thinking. He quickly turned it into a shaded in circle and shut his journal.

He didn’t want to like TJ. He couldn’t like TJ. He didn’t want to be feeling all those butterflies and how his cheeks managed to feel hotter around him even though it was already 90 degrees outside. TJ was the human version of the sun to him, and it was getting harder to look at him. Cyrus couldn’t help but notice the few freckles that dotted his nose. Green was becoming a prettier color to him, and he didn’t want to know if it was because that was the color of TJ’s eyes. Their height difference was becoming a lot more noticeable to him, too. Thinking about their height difference killed him. It was when he wondered if he’d have to stand on his tippy toes to kiss him.

He would do absolutely anything to stop thinking about TJ.

Only it was getting harder.

It was kind of starting to hurt, too. It was the same longing he felt in his chest when he saw Jonah. His obstacle from being with Jonah was Andi and the probable fact that Jonah didn’t like boys. His obstacle with being TJ was simply that he didn’t like boys- making it easier to lose their friendship. If Jonah had found out, he was probably going to say “oh sorry” and then proceed to still be friends with him because of the Good Hair Crew.

If TJ found out, Cyrus had already built 22 different scenarios of it going horribly wrong. Only one of them included a “Sorry, Cyrus. I don’t like guys. But let’s still be friends.” Only, they didn’t ever speak again after that. Cyrus felt like he was driving himself mad thinking of it.

Cyrus made his way back into his room and threw himself at his bed. He hadn’t checked the time in a while, so he unplugged his phone from the charger on his bedside table. He let out a sigh as he realized it was 2:02AM. He felt curse. He had never stayed up for no reason, not even when he liked Iris or Jonah. If anything, he wanted to go to sleep to avoid the fact that he didn’t like kissing Iris as cool as she was. He wanted to fall asleep so that he could dream of another world where Jonah liked him.

But now all he could do is stay away and live in the world where TJ Kippen didn’t like him.

Cyrus shut his eyes once more, his phone gripped in his hand. He tried to fall asleep, and he knew it wasn't working. He slightly picked his head up and slammed it back down repeatedly on his pillow, hoping it'd be enough to take him out. It didn't work.

He began thinking about TJ again as he gave up and lay there. He thought about how he was actually putting in a lot more effort into his math. It made him smile.

Then he remembered.

Cyrus: Hey TJ r u awake?

In less than a minute, there was a response on his phone.

TJ: Yes but u shouldnt be

Cyrus: i can't sleep

TJ: why not?

Because of you!

Cyrus: honestly im not sure. i just have a lot of things running through my mind

You.

TJ: Do you want to talk about it?

Cyrus: I don't think so. I don't even know y i texted u in the first place tbh. sorry

TJ: youre good. i dont fall asleep until like 4am

Cyrus: oh man thats too late kgfdjgfdg

TJ: lmao i didnt think youd ever fall asleep past 10

Cyrus: i never do. i have a strict need for at least 7 hrs of sleep or ill die

TJ: looks like ur gonna die

Cyrus: please release a white dove at my funeral. make it two so it won't be lonely. Im being honest rn. im chugging a gallon of coffee tomorrow i swear. how do u do it everyday

TJ: I don't have a choice most of the time lmao. i just deal with it and let it slowly try to kill me

Cyrus: so u havent died bc you're a vampire?

TJ: u can say that. Hey can I call you instead? Im lazy

Cyrus: ye

“No,” Cyrus groaned. Hearing his voice was going to make everything feel worse. His phone started buzzing and he quickly answered it. He had never been happier about having soundproof walls. He didn’t want his parents asking what he was doing up so late talking to TJ.

“Hey,” TJ mumbled. Cyrus thought his sleepy voice was going to knock him out cold right then and right there.

“Hey, vampire,” Cyrus teased, making TJ chuckled in response.

“You sound awfully happy.”

“I’d be happier if I was asleep but I guess a late night conversation with my good pal TJ won’t kill me.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you really made up with Buffy,” TJ hummed. His voice was groggy yet Cyrus ate up every single one of his words. This was definitely a bad decision. “Did you?”

“I did,” Cyrus sighed. He was starting to wonder if he should tell him the real reason he couldn’t sleep. No. Then I’d have to tell him the idea of us liking each other is keeping me awake. But…. I don’t like him so it wouldn’t matter would it?

“We’re all cool right? I was wondering if she wanted to get her girl team to practice with mine.”

Cyrus grinned, “That’s actually be great. You should talk to her about it. I swear she’s not angry.”

“Why was she acting up with you then?”

“Stupid reasons. She admitted it herself. She’s scared of… something.”

“Buffy? Scared?” TJ scoffed. “Of what? Her reflection?” TJ paused and then said, “Sorry, that was mean.” Cyrus ended up laughing.

“No, it’s fine. She’s more worried you can say.”

“Of what?”

Of us falling in love, getting married, adopting kids, and living next door to her.

“Of us getting closer I guess.”

“So, she’s jealous?” TJ asked. Cyrus stopped himself for a moment. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He did make it clear he’d never pick anyone over her and Andi, though. He wouldn’t.

“Well we cleared it up, so I don’t think so.”

“Did she,” TJ hummed for a moment, “say anything else?” Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Did TJ know something else?

“Why are you asking?”

“Um…. Just curious.”

“You sure?”

“Well,” TJ added hesitantly. “I don’t know. I guess Amber and Buffy talked.”

“Buffy and Amber? Like my Buffy?”

“No, Buffy Summers. Yes, your Buffy,” TJ chuckled. “I guess that Amber showed her that photo where we both fell asleep and um,” TJ’s voice got lower, “I think that’s why she started acting up. Acting up is the right phrase to use but it’s 2AM. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cyrus barely managed to say. His heart was beating fast and he was filling up with dread. Did TJ know exactly what Buffy was thinking?

“But did she say anything weird?” TJ asked again. Cyrus realized there were only 22 ways this could go wrong, and then chances of triggering one wasn’t that high. He was also half asleep and his “fuck it” senses were quite activated.

“By weird do you mean her asking me a million times about the idea of us dating?” Cyrus quickly spit out, hoping TJ might miss the word ‘dating’. There was a moment of complete silence for almost twenty seconds. Cyrus palms were feeling sweaty, so he put his phone on speaker and lay it on the pillow next to him.

“Yeah, that,” TJ finally said. “I think it was because of Amber, to be honest.”

“I mean everything makes sense, now,” Cyrus replied. “I was getting worried about some dumb stuff. I think that’s why I couldn’t sleep.” He felt a lot more relieved. So he and TJ hasn’t done something that made it seem like they had “more than friends” intentions. It was just a conversation between Buffy and Amber that sparked something in Buffy.

“So you do know why you can’t sleep,” TJ told him, discarding the dating topic.

“Well, kind of. I mean Buffy and I actually fought over this. We never fight.”

“Just because her and Amber conspired that we liked each other?” TJ scoffed. “They do know that will never happen right?” Those words seemed to chew right through Cyrus’ heart strings.

“Yeah… yeah,” Cyrus cleared his throat. “I mean we fixed it. She realized she was being dumb. She admitted it, too.”

“Did she apologize?”

“No. I don’t expect her to. It’s Buffy.”

“It’s Buffy isn’t a good excuse, Underdog. If I drain the blood out of a kindergartner, nobody is going to say, ‘Well, it’s just TJ.’ Are they?”

“One, they’re totally different. Two, one of them is completely unrealistic.” He wished TJ wasn’t so blunt sometimes. It made him come face to face with the feelings and thoughts he always shoved in the back of his head.

“Buffy apologizing every once in a while shouldn’t be unrealistic.”

“Well,” Cyrus sighed. “I don’t feel like she owes me an apology, okay?”

“If you’re comfortable with lying to yourself, sure.”

“I’m so comfortable with lying to myself, I’d convince myself that I love myself.”

“Self-deprecating humor, huh. Nice”

“Thanks. It’s a specialty. My brain is full of it.”

“That’s nice. My brain is full of useless facts.”

“Like what?”

“Like a cat named Stubbs was the mayor of Alaska from 1997 until his death.

“TJ, I know I don’t cuss, but literally. What the fuck,” Cyrus softly chuckled, causing TJ to erupt with laughter. Cyrus rarely heard TJ laugh like this, but it was music to his ears. He really did hate the way TJ made him feel like he was floating on the clouds. He was starting to get sleepy now.

“I can’t remember how to do long division, but I honestly can remember the dumbest things,” TJ said, starting to mumble again. “Hey, Underdog. Have you started reading The Giver yet?”

“No,” Cyrus yawned. “We don’t need to be up to chapter five until Friday.”

“Want me to read it to you until you fall asleep? You sound like you’re going to pass out any minute now.”

“But then I won’t remember where I was before I fell asleep,” Cyrus moaned.

“Don’t argue. I’m already getting my book,” TJ told him. Cyrus could hear TJ shuffling around the bedroom. “Alright. Chapter one…” TJ read to him for what felt twenty minutes before he couldn’t remember anything but the lightness of dream.

-

And now the purple dusk of twilight time

Steals across the meadows of my heart

TJ was in the middle of chapter two when he heard light snoring. He smiled and whispered, “Goodnight, Underdog.” He hung up the phone and set the book back inside of his backpack before shutting off the lights. He went back under his covers and checked his phone for the time. It was 3AM, and he could hear the distant yet familiar arguing from downstairs. He had blocked it out for almost an hour thanks to Cyrus and Lois Lowry. TJ put the sides of the pillows to cover his ears and closed his eyes.

He knew time had passed when his eyes blasted open at the sound of a door slamming shut. The front door downstairs. He then registered the soft crying. Amber’s crying. He sat straight up and saw that Amber was at the end of his bed, her back against the wall.

“Amber?” TJ rubbed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Dad left,” she whispered. TJ stopped moving. Was he hearing wrong?

High up in the sky the little stars climb

Always reminding me that we're apart

You wander down the lane and far away

Leaving me a song that will not die

“What?”

“Dad left. I heard them fighting in the bedroom like twenty minutes ago and he was packing his stuff,” she covered her face as she started to bawl. TJ lowered his hand and crawled over and put his arm around her. Amber shared a wall with their parents. TJ at least had the guest room in between which spared him a lot. Amber had always had it the worst.

“He’ll come back,” TJ whispered, his eyes starting to burn with tears. “He’ll come back.” Amber kept crying, her sobs eventually turning into wails. All TJ could do was sit there and hug her. He hadn’t even checked what time it was. He didn’t know if Amber had fallen asleep. It was getting hazy and everything felt a million times heavier. Amber’s sobs would die down and then increase suddenly, and he failed at trying not to cry. The only thing he heard was crying and the cars that would pass by in the streets. There was a ghostly silence emitting from the entire house. “He has to come back.”

Amber fell asleep after a long while, but TJ stayed wide awake. He gently laid her down before positioning himself next to his window. He was sitting with his back flat on his poster-covered wall, his eyes switching between watching Amber sleep and staring at the photos on his ceiling. He couldn’t really see them. It was still dark outside, and he didn’t know what he was waiting for. As soon as the sun beams started burst through the window and hit his bedsheets, he knew. He reached out a hand and let the light beam of sunshine hit his hand. There were striped shadows from the blinds wrapping around his skin. He let out a half-smile before closing his eyes. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to be he told himself. His GG always said that the rising sun meant a new era. He knew he wasn’t lying because the day he died, the sunrise turned the skies orange. It was his GG’s favorite color.

The music of the years gone by.

Sometimes I wonder, how I spend

The lonely nights

Dreaming of a song

The melody

Haunts my reverie

And I am once again with you

TJ laid down next to Amber and closed his eyes, almost immediately falling asleep. It didn’t feel like he had slept for more than a few minutes, but it was 6:30AM when he woke up to Amber turning off his alarm clock. He hadn’t even covered himself with the blankets, and he was cold. Amber stood up with her hands wrapped around herself as she shivered.

“Get ready, okay?” she told him, her teeth chattering. She looked horrible, and TJ knew he did, too. He simply nodded his head, and she made her way out of his room. He didn’t want to get up. He was exhausted and drained. It was a different type of tired where everything felt heavy and his throat felt dry. His eyes hurt every time he blinked. He had no idea how he was going to make it through the entire day. He still had work that afternoon, and he definitely could not skip right now.

He stood up anyways and got dressed. He went out into the hall and heard the sink running in the restroom. Amber was going to be a while. He went back into his room and got his hair gel from his bag and started doing his hair in there to get that over with. When he was done, he heard his phone vibrate. He reached over and smiled when he saw who it was from.

Cyrus: Good morning. I’m dead.

TJ: God I wish I were you right now

Cyrus: What time did u fall asleep??? I don’t even remember falling asleep.

TJ: u knocked out like at 3.

Cyrus: how much sleep did you get

TJ: idk like 2

Cyrus: 2 what? Hours

TJ: minutes

Cyrus: tj omg. Minutes?!!!!!

TJ: okay maybe like an hour or 2 I don’t really know.

TJ hesitated before sending the next text.

TJ: everything just sucks right now

Cyrus: hey I’m here if you need anything okay? We can talk about it over baby tators after tutoring if you’d like. My treat this time.

TJ: can’t. I have work.

Cyrus: I’ll walk you to work then. Sound good?

TJ: sounds perfect :^)

Cyrus: :o)

TJ heard the restroom door open, and he walked out to finish getting ready. Amber saw the smile on his face and raised an eyebrow, “Cyrus.” TJ shrugged, the smile not faltering. “Goofy boys,” Amber shook her head with a grin and walked back into her room.

When TJ finished getting ready, he walked down stairs to find Amber making them breakfast. He had heard their mom shuffling around in the master bedroom, so he knew she wasn’t downstairs.

“Eat up,” Amber told him as he sat down. “It’s almost seven, and I’m pretty sure we’re walking.” TJ didn’t say anything and gratefully ate the breakfast. They both ate in silence. TJ realized Amber didn’t have any makeup on and her hair was in a ponytail. He had seen himself in the mirror minutes ago, and he knew he didn’t exactly look like Prince Charming either.

They both turned to the kitchen doorway when their mom walked inside. She was still in her work uniform, and her hair was in a bun that was fall apart. Her eyes and nose were extremely red.

“I made breakfast,” Amber told her, not looking at her for longer than a second. TJ just saw her nod her head before walking to the coffee machine.

“You kids don’t have to go to school today,” she told them, her voice quiet yet rough. “I’ll call in.”

“I have to turn in an essay,” Amber quickly responded.

“Yeah,” TJ momentarily added, “I have tutoring after school.”

“Tutoring?” their mom turned to look at him. TJ sunk back a little in his seat. They had been told about his dyscalculia, but it was something they haven’t talked about in a while.

“Yeah,” TJ bit his lip. “I have it for math with a friend and Mrs. Pierson.” She simply nodded her head and went back to paying attention to the coffee machine. They were silent for the next few minutes as Amber and TJ kept eating, the clinking of dishes filling the air. Their mom watched them carefully as she drank her coffee. TJ checked his phone and told them, “I better get going.” He collected his and Amber’s dishes and placed them in the sink.

“I’ll wash them after I drop you kids off,” their mom putting her coffee on the counter. “Let me go get the keys.”

“We can walk if you want,” Amber told her delicately. She hadn’t taken them to school in ages. They called it an unnecessary waste of gas most of the time.

“No,” she shook her head. “I want to. At least today.” Neither TJ or Amber pressed the matter and just went to wait by the door. Amber’s eyes were already tearing up as they got to the door. TJ gave her a weak reassuring and smile which caused Amber to rub her eyes in an attempt of disguise. When the heard the keys rattling, Amber turned to their mom and said, “I have English second period. I might text you to pick me up.”

“I’ll be by my phone,” she said as they all walked out to the family car. TJ sat in the back seat and waited for the car to start moving. He felt ice cold even though fall had barely crept in, and it was making him want to sleep. He started considering skipping school. Mrs. Pierson would understand. Cyrus would, too. “Hey, um,” their mom gently said. “I just want you kids to know that I already talked to my boss. I’m getting shifts as I need them. I’m going to be responsible now, I swear. Nana and I talked. She’ll be on call if any of you two need anything, and I’m at work.” TJ knew Amber was crying again. It made him feel worse hearing her cry. Their mom started choking up, “Hey, I love you kids, okay? I’ve been a shitty mom lately, but we’ll get through this even if it’s just the three of us. I swear.”

He has to come back. He has to come back.

-

TJ was early to school; not a lot of kids had gotten dropped off. He walked into the cafeteria and got in line (it was only two kids in front of him). He was full already, but he eyed the chocolate chocolate chip muffins. He grabbed one and went back outside to sit at a picnic bench. He pulled out his phone and realized he already had a text from Cyrus.

Cyrus: hey I need to see you before class starts

TJ: im already at school sooo

Cyrus: im almost there. Where are u?

TJ: Benches by the cafeteria

TJ didn’t bother waiting for a response. He rested his head on his propped up arm and started closing his eyes. His eyelids felt so stiff, and he if tired had a taste, it was whatever parched feeling he had in his throat.

“Good morning!” Cyrus enthusiastically said, causing TJ to jump up startled.

“Hey!” TJ yelped. He quickly turned around to see if anyone had seen, but it was just kids minding their own business and Cyrus laughing. TJ smirked at Cyrus, “Proud that you scared the shit out of me?”

“Kind of, yes,” Cyrus grinned. He had two coffee shop drinks in his hands and one was half-way done. TJ assumed that’s where he got his energy. “Here,” Cyrus set the coffee in front of TJ. “I don’t know if you drink coffee, but I know you need it.”

“I’m usually an energy drink guy, but I tend to not splurge on them. Sleep is free energy,” TJ said and picked up the coffee. He studied the see-thru plastic carefully. He rarely got anything from the coffee shop. He didn’t know how to order it. Why couldn’t the sizes just be small, medium, and large?

“You’re not getting any sleep, and TJ, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You look exhausted. I’m so glad I chose today to get you this,” Cyrus gave TJ an apologetic look. TJ was half-asleep, so he just stared at Cyrus’ lips for a few seconds too long before remembering he was in a conversation.

“Uh, yeah,” TJ blinked furiously and set the coffee down, “thank you by the way. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t,” Cyrus shook his head. TJ took a sip from the straw and immediately made a sour face.

“What is this, Underdog?” TJ smacked his lips a few times. It was super sweet at first, but he liked the aftertaste. He started drinking it again.

“I call it liquid cocaine. It’s 4 shots of expresso, and 4 pumps of white chocolate syrup over ice in a cold cup.”

“Sounds unhealthy.”

“You sleeping habits are unhealthy, TJ. You need to get more sleep.”

“Sounds fake.”

“TJ!” Cyrus whined.

“Fine, fine,” TJ rubbed his eyes. “I’ll take sleeping syrup or something.”

“Don’t abuse that stuff, though.”

“Do you want me to sleep or not?” TJ smiled, causing Cyrus to shrug.

“I guess,” Cyrus sighed. TJ felt nice for a change. Every time he realized Cyrus cared about him, it made everything feel better. Even if everything was a complete shit pile. “Hey we have time to talk if you want to tell me what’s wrong. Or we can wait until after school. If we don’t crash.” TJ looked around and bit his lip. If he didn’t make it to the end of the school day, it wasn’t going to be because of a caffeine crash. He was pretty good at hiding any emotional distress in person, but he didn’t know how long he’d be able to hold this in.

“I’ll just um…,” TJ bit his lip harder.

“We’ll talk after school,” Cyrus reached his hand across the table and squeezed TJ’s free hand. TJ felt himself turning red, but he didn’t reach out to cover his nose. He put the coffee down and set the abandoned muffin right in front of Cyrus.

“It’s for you.”

The nightingale

Tells his fairytale

Of paradise, where roses grew

Though I dream in vain

In my heart it will remain

My stardust melody

The memory of love's refrain.

Next Chapter

A/N: Thank you for reading! Here’s those who asked to be tagged :) If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know! Also if I forget you I swear it wasn’t on purpose. I skip over things in my head sometimes.

@magicalcowboycalzonemoney @the-greatt-perhaps @thedampjofangirl@evaeselgreatest @musicalsfuckmeup @stupidlambforever

[hermannsgayhands]

does hermanns cane have like...some kind of sentimental significance because i realized its just the solid wood kind without anything on the handle and those are Not comfortable for regular/longterm use. my first cane had a wooden handle and my hand got so sore even just going out a couple times a day (so probably not even as much as he would be using it in any given day bc its not like hes working from one single desk in the lab, theres a lot of standing and walking) and he rly seems like the kinda guy to care about functionality

(i know Realistically it was probably just that the costume department probably doesnt have a lot of cane users to be able to know this from personal experience But Obviously Im Going To Fixate On This and if ppl r gonna piece together explanations for massive plot inconsistencies i can let myself have this lol)

i Also know the kinda-sorta-canon-but-its-not-really-canon-canon reason for him using a cane is bc he was in the wrong place at the wrong time during a kaiju attack and it fucked up his hip but uh. my city now so I Propose:

needing a mobility aid when youre not old enough for it to be expected (so basically anywhere younger than Really Old) gets a lot of...attention...and its not usually positive, even if its not overtly negative its usually kind of just. weird and uncomfortable. people dont really know what to do with it and it gets awkward

and hermann was so much younger than everyone he would be spending most of his time around starting at such a young age, he was already set apart, he wasnt on equal social footing with his peers however much he was their equal (and then some, a lot of the time) intellectually and academically. even when people were nice and friendly and welcoming, there was always going to be that imbalance, because hes just a kid, hes just a teenager, hes just

and he tries not to Cave, because thats what he tells himself it is, rather than not wanting to be seen as even more different than he already is, because he thinks thats vanity, and he isnt vain. its something he can power through until he cant, and hes in labs staring at the clock with twenty minutes to go counting down the seconds until he can sit down and do something about his legs screaming at him to stop and taking all of his focus away from what hes trying to do, and twenty minutes turns into thirty, and forty, and eventually he starts dreading sitting down just because it means hes going to have to stand up again, but he can push through it, he keeps telling himself he can, until the room goes silent at the shattering of a beaker hitting the floor, and he realizes its coming from him

he usually works on assignments in the waiting room before physical therapy, but he cant put any pressure on his legs that time, even the thinnest binder he has too heavy to write on

and the physical therapist gives him a cane.

it looks like he came out of a hospital with it; at first he likes that, because its no-nonsense and simple, until everyone thinks it is from a hospital, and he has to explain no, its not, i didnt hurt myself, this isnt an injury, i know, im not actually too young for this to happen, thats not how this works—

arent you a little young for that was something he was used to hearing, but all the other times, he had been able to prove them wrong and impress. even after rattling off his conditions—he shouldnt have to, its not their business, he just wants to be able to walk, but they dont stop asking, they dont stop looking—theres nothing impressive about that, no satisfaction in proving them wrong.

he has one professor who uses a cane; shes old and withered like a tree that looks like it could break in the wind but thats been there for decades without falling, smoothly going from standing to sitting without enough of a break to it for anyone to take much notice, but hermann does, now

she gets tense, her breathing a little heavier, and she directs a wheely desk chair to where she needs it to be before smoothly sitting down without a break in her sentence. hes seen old faculty pictures of her, old enough that she wasnt yet, the same heavy wooden cane in her hand in each one even when her hair was still brown.

she knows what shes doing.

she makes eye contact with him on his way in the first day he uses the plain gray cane, just for a second, a second longer than she normally did, and she doesnt say anything that she wouldnt normally, the first person whose tone didnt change even a little when she called on him.

the staring and the questioning makes his chest twist a little less for the rest of the day.

his shoulder is killing him, though, his back below his shoulderblade a constant twinge that gets worse throughout the day the longer he stands, worse on lab days when he cant sit down much.

hes trying to reach that one spot with his fingers when the professor makes eye contact again.

she waves him over at the end with a question about a paper he had turned in a couple days before, but the question was such a simple clarification that hes sure it has to be something else—

“thats too tall for you,” she says, gesturing with her cane towards his. “stand up.”

he does.

“no, relax your shoulders, like you normally stand.”

he does.

she holds her hand flat with the side at his hip and scoots her chair forward, looking between the cane and hermann with slightly raised eyebrows, and he nods.

she clicks the little button on the side, twisting the two pieces until it lowers to the next notch.

“see how that feels,” she says, “itll wreck your back if its too high up.”

his back doesnt hurt after that, from an adjustment of just an inch and one look at him rubbing at his shoulder, not even asking why he uses it in the first place.

she knows what shes doing.

its more than that, hermann realizes, the more he watches and the more he picks up on from personal experience. she can command a room with it, walking with such purpose, even limping, her chin high and the rubber tip hitting the ground at the exact right moment for the exact right emphasis.

hes reluctant to use the word inspiring after the way hes heard it used about him, people like him, just doing what they need to do, but he holds his head higher, and eventually hes not just pretending that the twisting feeling in his chest from the feeling of eyes on the back of his head isnt there anymore, at least most of the time.

it feels like a wall thats been put up, but it feels safe, and he decides he would rather push someone away by not putting up with that sick-sweet way people started talking to him once he started using the cane than let them pretend they were being kind.

he was already plenty used to being coddled and talked down to and patronized for assumptions made based on his appearance; he knows it when he hears it, and hes hearing it loud and clear. if he couldnt prove them wrong and impress, he could at least keep that sick-sweet tone from sticking to his skin the way it used to, always leaving him feeling like he needed a shower.

it still doesnt stop all the questions.

its the end of the year when hes started looking at canes online.

he cant find any that he likes, partly because he feels like he shouldnt like it; its a piece of equipment, something to get around, and he had never put much thought into what his shoes looked like, so it doesnt feel like he should be so stuck on what his cane would look like.

his mind is made up for him when he comes in for his last lecture with the professor like an old tree, and she has a different cane.

he recognizes the brand from the google searches; its fiberglass, light and strong and expensive, matches the pale blue of her glasses, and he finds himself almost disappointed not to see the wooden one, attached to it even though it wasnt his own.

she waves him over at the end with a question about a paper.

all of his papers had already been plugged into his grades.

he doesnt know why his heart is thudding against his ribs when she pulls out something long and wrapped in newspaper from under her desk.

she had it shaved down to the right height, she tells him—its old, it wasnt made to be adjustable, and she says it like an apology, but hermanns eyes are stinging as he pulls apart the newspaper, a new rubber tip attached to the bottom, the handle still worn down in a couple places, and the cane that looks like it came from a hospital stays in the back of his closet after that.