The Wild Ones

“So. What do you want to do first?” asks Andy, glancing up at the towering bookshelves. I pause.

“To be honest, I didn’t really think this through very well.” His expression shifts. One second he was cool and collected, smiling faintly. Now his features have turned cold and indignant.

“What, Is this not important to you?” He snaps, his snarling voice all ice and solid steel. It catches me by surprise.

“...I… Um…” I falter, watching his expression break again. His lips twitch through his scowl, then he must see the expression on my face because he breaks out laughing.

“Raven, I’m just messing with you,”

“Huh? Oh…” I smile, flustered and definitely red-faced. He shakes his head a little, still smiling, and reaches behind my head pulling a massive book from the shelf. It’s clearly old, and was once glossy, but now the shine has worn off the solid white cover and though it’s closed, I can still tell that the slightly yellowed pages are dog-eared, with sloppily highlighted text.

“Do you want to start with this?” I glance at the title. The Basics of Emergency First Aid.

“Perfect.”

“Yeah, It looks exciting,” he jokes.

“You seem blissfully unaware of the headaches in your future.”

While he’s flipping through the book, I take a moment to collect myself. I’m way too nervous, and I think he can tell. I need to calm down so I can actually be of any use in teaching. I can’t let him make me flustered because he’s a leader. He’s The Prophet and if I teach him wrong, or if I miss something it could cost a life in the future. Maybe more than one life. This is serious.

We sit at a table for hours, pouring over books. I explain what I can of the medical jargon and what I can’t explain I help him figure out. There’s no way to tell how long we we’ve been studying, the lights reflecting off the rough stone walls burn on as steadily as they have done for hours.

After a while I start to be distracted by him again. Not the subtle jokes as he flips the pages, or the general mystery that is this real life Prophet, but by the uncontrollable bouncing of his knees, and his fingers tapping out rhythms on the polished wooden tabletop. He’s constantly fidgeting. Shifting his weight, pulling his shoulders away from the back of the chair, running long fingers through his hair, and casting his eyes around the room every few minutes, like he’s looking for something new to focus on. His fidgeting is making me antsy. No one else wanders into the library, no one walks past the door, the only sound apart from our conversing is his chair squeaking against the floor , his feet tapping and scraping the stone, the broken rhythm of his fingers drumming against the table. After a while I start to shift in my seat too. This stagnant, tedious learning atmosphere isn’t working. We suffer countless explanations, diagrams on how to sterilize equipment by submerging it in boiling water, and as I’m explaining to him why it’s important to keep constant pressure on arterial bleeds I look at the book to notice his fingers beginning to worry the bent corner of the page. I give up.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

“Oh thank God,” he stands up immediately almost knocking his chair over, he glances at me sheepishly, “I’m really not good at sitting still for long periods of time.”

“I noticed,” I smile, finally something he isn’t perfect at.

Notes

I'm so glad I finished this before the start of term tomorrow. I probably would have had time to finish it in creative writing class but who really wants to get caught writing fanfiction on class time? Anyhoo, the confetti has been thrown, my time management skills have been celebrated, (barring the fact that I meant to publish this days ago but I scrapped the chapter and rewrote it,) and it's time for some real talk.

I'm super duper grateful to all you lovely humans who took time out of your busy day to read my flaming garbage pail of a story, I hope it brought a smile to your face. I'm flattered and baffled that it has, as of yet, received such a positive rating and most of all it makes me so happy to read the comments under new chapters. Keep typing friends, it keeps me going.

I'm still reeling because I recently saw Green Day live, (pause for shrill screaming,) and so the question of the chapter is: If Billie Joe Armstrong were to ask really nicely, what's the most insane/illegal thing you would do? I would probably paint an abandoned building, or like, jaywalk or something because tbh authority figures kinda freak me out.

Until next chapter,
-BVBfangirlqueen <3