RPM high school AU
Apr. 8th, 2011 11:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drownedinlight Dillon caught sight of the lanky, short male on one of the first days of senior year. He was leaning against the lockers with some of his friends when a freshman girl was tripped by some vapid fourteen eager to get into the popular circle. The girl, who had misty blue eyes, and the longest blonde hair Dillon had ever seen, only brushed off her white camisole and skirt, and began to pick up her belongings, when he stopped, and knelt down, collecting books and papers and binders right along with her. The clearest thing Dillon heard him say was,
“Hi, I’m Ziggy,” before he dropped his voice to a whisper. A ghost of a smile appeared on the girl’s face as he talked, and they stood, still holding her things and walked off into the school. Except, when they almost turned down another hallway, Ziggy turned back, like he knew he was being watched, and looked right at Dillon with piercing green eyes.
After that, Dillon looked for the lanky boy with green eyes. Often, if Dillon saw him, he was rescuing the misfits of the school, people of the underground whose names were lost to even him, King of the Largest Outcast Army in the whole school …or so he had thought. Ziggy took in everyone; the lost little freshman like the blonde girl, the science nerds, like two, blonde chemistry brothers, and the girl who was too smart for high school, always wearing a black bowl cut and a lab coat, along with her twin followers. Dillon even saw his friend Murphy’s brother hanging around with Ziggy’s group at one point or another, most of whom Dillon knew from one humiliating point or another in the high school’s history.
Except when he saw these people now, they always smiled, they laughed, they were dressed really strangely, but they were never alone.
“Do you know anything about a kid called Ziggy?” Dillon asked his sister one night when it finally got to him. Tenaya raised an eyebrow at him, and frowned slightly. At school they did not much associate with one another as Tenaya ran the “bitch army,” as he liked to call it, and they were highly opposed to Dillon and his group’s “misogynistic” ways.
“Know of him,” she replied after a moment of staring him down. “I punched him once. The next day my locker was filled with wild flowers. Anyway, Morgana once said that she and Gwen, one of his close friends, used to be really close, but they don’t get much of a chance to hang out anymore. I know he’s in drama.”
Anakin, Merrick and Kevin were playing Assassin’s Creed while Murphy strummed at his guitar, Markus hacked away at something on his computer, and Itachi attempted to do homework, when he asked them.
“Why do you want to know about Ziggy Grover?” Markus asked without looking up from his computer.
“You know him?” Dillon asked.
“Know of him,” Markus replied, “but you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’ve just seen him around,” Dillon said, “I’m curious.” There were looks shared between them, and Anakin paused the game, and Murphy set his guitar down as they all tuned in. “It’s not that fucking big of a deal!”
“May I remind you that the last time you were interested in someone, she turned out to be blonde,” Markus said. “Anyway, I know he’s in a band. I know the drummer, Percy; we hang out and do films together on the occasion. I think his Dad might also work for the government. I remember Dad saying something about Colonel Grover in passing. I can’t say much for Ziggy as a person though.”
“I think Era might have mentioned him once or twice,” Murphy remarked with a shrug. “I wasn’t really paying much attention though.”
His lab partner spent the better part of the period glaring at him.
“I get that you have bad boy syndrome and everything, but if you could focus, that would be wonderful,” Cameron snarked at him. Dillon glanced at him, and noted the green shirt Cameron was wearing. Come to think of it, Ziggy had been wearing green every time Dillon had seen him.
“Hey Cam, do you know Ziggy Grover?” Dillon asked, taking the wiring out of the Asian’s hands to work on it a little bit. Cam frowned.
“Sure, I work the booth for him sometimes during plays and stuff. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“It’s fine. What’s he like?”
“Boisterous. He never stops talking, well, almost,” Cam said. “If you ask him nicely, or look at him the right way, he does. I’ve only met him a few times, but he seems okay.”
Apparently his thoughtful mood continued into auto shop, because he found Flynn snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Are ye in there, mate?”
“Yeah thanks,” Dillon said, lowering Flynn’s hand away from his face.
“Anythin’ I can help ye with?” Flynn asked.
“Know anything about Ziggy Grover?” Dillon asked. Flynn looked off to his right, before he turned and called out,
“Hey Deus, com’mere for a minute, would ye lad?” A tall, not quite as gangly as Ziggy, boy with brown hair, left his partner at their car and joined them under the hood of Flynn’s SUV. “Ye’re friends with Ziggy Grover, aren’t ye?”
“Best friends, why?” Deus asked. “What’s going on?” Looking down at the other young man, Dillon could not quite articulate why exactly he wanted to know about Ziggy and instead chose to say,
“Nothing,” right as the bell rang. Like a coward, he fled the garage as quickly as he could.
It was not until much later than normal that he managed to leave the school. He had been hiding away in a dark corner listening to his iPod an hour after the last bell rang, if only to avoid his friends and the few others who wanted to come after him with questions. So when he went out into the overcast, twilight lit parking lot, he was not quite expecting to find someone sitting on the hood of his car. Someone, dressed in a white dress shirt, a vest, tight blue jeans and a green jacket, unruly hair spilling into his light green eyes (they were closed when Dillon approached, but he still knew they were green).
Ziggy was laying back against his windshield, buds in his ears and arms out stretched, singing something Dillon had never heard before, with the most powerful set of lungs Dillon had not quite expected of someone as thin and lithe as Ziggy. It made him stop for a moment and admire the smaller man, and think that if Ziggy were anyone else, Dillon might have dismissed them, but something about this man just made him curious, made him want to taste the knowledge of what made up Ziggy Grover.
He did not need to touch the green clothed man as he spent so long staring, Ziggy felt his eyes, and sat up, looking right at him. Both of them only looked for a minute, as Ziggy took in Dillon’s dark swathed form, licking his lips a few times as he did.
“You wanted to talk to me?” he said.
“How did you know this was my car?” Dillon asked. “Or did you just pick at random until you go it right?” Ziggy smiled, pulling his ear buds from his ears, and wrapping them around his iPod as he did.
“Your sister told me. Well, she told K, and K told me that I should track you down. And then Cameron found me, and Era told me that his brother had been asking after me, and I remembered the two of you were friend and then Deus told me what happened in your auto shop class. I figured you must really want to talk to me if you are asking all of these people about me.” Dillon’s mouth ran dry at the implications, and his inability to run away.
“You take in a lot of people,” Dillon remarked. “You help them when the popular crowd would want to trample them down.”
“So do you,” Ziggy pointed out. “I mean, you brought together your group, and you look after your own pretty well.”
“I just…it’s stupid never mind.” Ziggy shrugged and slid off of Dillon’s car.
“All right, if you’re sure,” he said and began to walk away. Dillon sees nothing and no one else in the parking lot and thus cannot resist asking,
“Where are you going?” Ziggy turned for a minute, but kept walking.
“Home. I carpooled today, and all of my friends had to go somewhere to do things, and I didn’t want to keep them.” Dillon’s mouth ran dry again, as he took note of the clouds covering the sky scape and the lightning flashing in the distance.
“Get in; I’ll give you a ride.”
“You sure?” Ziggy asked, stopping in his tracks.
“It’d be cruel if I let you walk home during the storm,” Dillon explained, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket. Ziggy tilted his head to the side.
“I should warn you, I live in the woods. If this storm starts up while you’re there, you might not get out for a while.” Dillon scoffed a little.
“I don’t think you’ve seen the Fury in action before,” he said.
“Has the Fury ever seen nature in full force before?” Ziggy asked as he walked around to the passenger side of the car, lifting the door handle and sliding in.
True to his words, though it was not far from the school, Ziggy really did live just off of a rocky, dirt road in the forest, and by the time, Dillon turned off of that road, onto Ziggy’s long gravel drive, the rain was coming down in full force, and he was having trouble seeing far in front of him. And maybe the mud was sticking his wheels a little. But he did not want to admit that to Ziggy when he put the Fury in park in front of the one story house.
“Well, we made it in one piece,” Dillon declared.
“Yeah, but do you think you’re going to get out in one piece?” Ziggy asked. “Or out at all even. The road’s a pretty thick mud slide right now, and the rain leaves a lot to be desired for visibility.” He smiled, “I really think you should come inside.” In a whirl, Ziggy opened his door, like he planned to get out, but grabbed the keys from the ignition at the last minute, before dashing into the house. Dillon swore and followed after him, drenched by the time he reached the front steps. “Wait there, I’ll get you some towels!” cam Ziggy’s voice from inside the house, as Dillon entered in.
The smaller man came and held out the towels to him, but Dillon did not take them.
“Where are my keys?”
“After the rain lets up,” Ziggy promised. “Do you want some clothes to change into? I can through yours into the dryer, but you look about my dad’s size.”
“I want my car keys,” Dillon retorted.
“And I would like not to be responsible for your death,” Ziggy said, shoving the towels at him. “Take off your shoes before you start wandering, please. Bathroom is to the right; it’s yellow, so you can’t miss it. I’ll be back with a change of clothes in a minute.” Dillon was tempted not to take off his shoes, just to spite Ziggy, but pulled off his boots and trotted to the bathroom, towels in hand, trying to dry off his body without removing any of his clothes. Ziggy soon returned with a pair of sweat pants and a tee-shirt, though, letting him strip and dry off in the privacy of the bathroom (which was indeed a mellow yellow, with sunflowers outlined in brown on the walls. Dillon felt a little strange, wearing the clothes of a father who was not his, stuck in a house with a person who fascinated him, though he could not explain why. Still, he was never the type to run away from anything, so when he was dry and dressed, he opened the bathroom door to face Ziggy Grover. Except, Ziggy was just across the hall, in a room painted green, not quite ready to face him, as he was completely naked.
“Hi, I’m Ziggy,” before he dropped his voice to a whisper. A ghost of a smile appeared on the girl’s face as he talked, and they stood, still holding her things and walked off into the school. Except, when they almost turned down another hallway, Ziggy turned back, like he knew he was being watched, and looked right at Dillon with piercing green eyes.
After that, Dillon looked for the lanky boy with green eyes. Often, if Dillon saw him, he was rescuing the misfits of the school, people of the underground whose names were lost to even him, King of the Largest Outcast Army in the whole school …or so he had thought. Ziggy took in everyone; the lost little freshman like the blonde girl, the science nerds, like two, blonde chemistry brothers, and the girl who was too smart for high school, always wearing a black bowl cut and a lab coat, along with her twin followers. Dillon even saw his friend Murphy’s brother hanging around with Ziggy’s group at one point or another, most of whom Dillon knew from one humiliating point or another in the high school’s history.
Except when he saw these people now, they always smiled, they laughed, they were dressed really strangely, but they were never alone.
“Do you know anything about a kid called Ziggy?” Dillon asked his sister one night when it finally got to him. Tenaya raised an eyebrow at him, and frowned slightly. At school they did not much associate with one another as Tenaya ran the “bitch army,” as he liked to call it, and they were highly opposed to Dillon and his group’s “misogynistic” ways.
“Know of him,” she replied after a moment of staring him down. “I punched him once. The next day my locker was filled with wild flowers. Anyway, Morgana once said that she and Gwen, one of his close friends, used to be really close, but they don’t get much of a chance to hang out anymore. I know he’s in drama.”
Anakin, Merrick and Kevin were playing Assassin’s Creed while Murphy strummed at his guitar, Markus hacked away at something on his computer, and Itachi attempted to do homework, when he asked them.
“Why do you want to know about Ziggy Grover?” Markus asked without looking up from his computer.
“You know him?” Dillon asked.
“Know of him,” Markus replied, “but you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’ve just seen him around,” Dillon said, “I’m curious.” There were looks shared between them, and Anakin paused the game, and Murphy set his guitar down as they all tuned in. “It’s not that fucking big of a deal!”
“May I remind you that the last time you were interested in someone, she turned out to be blonde,” Markus said. “Anyway, I know he’s in a band. I know the drummer, Percy; we hang out and do films together on the occasion. I think his Dad might also work for the government. I remember Dad saying something about Colonel Grover in passing. I can’t say much for Ziggy as a person though.”
“I think Era might have mentioned him once or twice,” Murphy remarked with a shrug. “I wasn’t really paying much attention though.”
His lab partner spent the better part of the period glaring at him.
“I get that you have bad boy syndrome and everything, but if you could focus, that would be wonderful,” Cameron snarked at him. Dillon glanced at him, and noted the green shirt Cameron was wearing. Come to think of it, Ziggy had been wearing green every time Dillon had seen him.
“Hey Cam, do you know Ziggy Grover?” Dillon asked, taking the wiring out of the Asian’s hands to work on it a little bit. Cam frowned.
“Sure, I work the booth for him sometimes during plays and stuff. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“It’s fine. What’s he like?”
“Boisterous. He never stops talking, well, almost,” Cam said. “If you ask him nicely, or look at him the right way, he does. I’ve only met him a few times, but he seems okay.”
Apparently his thoughtful mood continued into auto shop, because he found Flynn snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Are ye in there, mate?”
“Yeah thanks,” Dillon said, lowering Flynn’s hand away from his face.
“Anythin’ I can help ye with?” Flynn asked.
“Know anything about Ziggy Grover?” Dillon asked. Flynn looked off to his right, before he turned and called out,
“Hey Deus, com’mere for a minute, would ye lad?” A tall, not quite as gangly as Ziggy, boy with brown hair, left his partner at their car and joined them under the hood of Flynn’s SUV. “Ye’re friends with Ziggy Grover, aren’t ye?”
“Best friends, why?” Deus asked. “What’s going on?” Looking down at the other young man, Dillon could not quite articulate why exactly he wanted to know about Ziggy and instead chose to say,
“Nothing,” right as the bell rang. Like a coward, he fled the garage as quickly as he could.
It was not until much later than normal that he managed to leave the school. He had been hiding away in a dark corner listening to his iPod an hour after the last bell rang, if only to avoid his friends and the few others who wanted to come after him with questions. So when he went out into the overcast, twilight lit parking lot, he was not quite expecting to find someone sitting on the hood of his car. Someone, dressed in a white dress shirt, a vest, tight blue jeans and a green jacket, unruly hair spilling into his light green eyes (they were closed when Dillon approached, but he still knew they were green).
Ziggy was laying back against his windshield, buds in his ears and arms out stretched, singing something Dillon had never heard before, with the most powerful set of lungs Dillon had not quite expected of someone as thin and lithe as Ziggy. It made him stop for a moment and admire the smaller man, and think that if Ziggy were anyone else, Dillon might have dismissed them, but something about this man just made him curious, made him want to taste the knowledge of what made up Ziggy Grover.
He did not need to touch the green clothed man as he spent so long staring, Ziggy felt his eyes, and sat up, looking right at him. Both of them only looked for a minute, as Ziggy took in Dillon’s dark swathed form, licking his lips a few times as he did.
“You wanted to talk to me?” he said.
“How did you know this was my car?” Dillon asked. “Or did you just pick at random until you go it right?” Ziggy smiled, pulling his ear buds from his ears, and wrapping them around his iPod as he did.
“Your sister told me. Well, she told K, and K told me that I should track you down. And then Cameron found me, and Era told me that his brother had been asking after me, and I remembered the two of you were friend and then Deus told me what happened in your auto shop class. I figured you must really want to talk to me if you are asking all of these people about me.” Dillon’s mouth ran dry at the implications, and his inability to run away.
“You take in a lot of people,” Dillon remarked. “You help them when the popular crowd would want to trample them down.”
“So do you,” Ziggy pointed out. “I mean, you brought together your group, and you look after your own pretty well.”
“I just…it’s stupid never mind.” Ziggy shrugged and slid off of Dillon’s car.
“All right, if you’re sure,” he said and began to walk away. Dillon sees nothing and no one else in the parking lot and thus cannot resist asking,
“Where are you going?” Ziggy turned for a minute, but kept walking.
“Home. I carpooled today, and all of my friends had to go somewhere to do things, and I didn’t want to keep them.” Dillon’s mouth ran dry again, as he took note of the clouds covering the sky scape and the lightning flashing in the distance.
“Get in; I’ll give you a ride.”
“You sure?” Ziggy asked, stopping in his tracks.
“It’d be cruel if I let you walk home during the storm,” Dillon explained, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket. Ziggy tilted his head to the side.
“I should warn you, I live in the woods. If this storm starts up while you’re there, you might not get out for a while.” Dillon scoffed a little.
“I don’t think you’ve seen the Fury in action before,” he said.
“Has the Fury ever seen nature in full force before?” Ziggy asked as he walked around to the passenger side of the car, lifting the door handle and sliding in.
True to his words, though it was not far from the school, Ziggy really did live just off of a rocky, dirt road in the forest, and by the time, Dillon turned off of that road, onto Ziggy’s long gravel drive, the rain was coming down in full force, and he was having trouble seeing far in front of him. And maybe the mud was sticking his wheels a little. But he did not want to admit that to Ziggy when he put the Fury in park in front of the one story house.
“Well, we made it in one piece,” Dillon declared.
“Yeah, but do you think you’re going to get out in one piece?” Ziggy asked. “Or out at all even. The road’s a pretty thick mud slide right now, and the rain leaves a lot to be desired for visibility.” He smiled, “I really think you should come inside.” In a whirl, Ziggy opened his door, like he planned to get out, but grabbed the keys from the ignition at the last minute, before dashing into the house. Dillon swore and followed after him, drenched by the time he reached the front steps. “Wait there, I’ll get you some towels!” cam Ziggy’s voice from inside the house, as Dillon entered in.
The smaller man came and held out the towels to him, but Dillon did not take them.
“Where are my keys?”
“After the rain lets up,” Ziggy promised. “Do you want some clothes to change into? I can through yours into the dryer, but you look about my dad’s size.”
“I want my car keys,” Dillon retorted.
“And I would like not to be responsible for your death,” Ziggy said, shoving the towels at him. “Take off your shoes before you start wandering, please. Bathroom is to the right; it’s yellow, so you can’t miss it. I’ll be back with a change of clothes in a minute.” Dillon was tempted not to take off his shoes, just to spite Ziggy, but pulled off his boots and trotted to the bathroom, towels in hand, trying to dry off his body without removing any of his clothes. Ziggy soon returned with a pair of sweat pants and a tee-shirt, though, letting him strip and dry off in the privacy of the bathroom (which was indeed a mellow yellow, with sunflowers outlined in brown on the walls. Dillon felt a little strange, wearing the clothes of a father who was not his, stuck in a house with a person who fascinated him, though he could not explain why. Still, he was never the type to run away from anything, so when he was dry and dressed, he opened the bathroom door to face Ziggy Grover. Except, Ziggy was just across the hall, in a room painted green, not quite ready to face him, as he was completely naked.
