Fluent Freshman - Part 23
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There were a few reasons that Andrew and Neil could not get past reception to go see FF or get updates on his current condition.
The first reason was that visiting hours were long over by the time they had arrived a little after midnight.
The second reason was that hospitals, in general, don’t just give out information on their patients to any random person that walks in and asks for an update on their condition. They are ESPECIALLY hesitant to give out updates on patients when the people who are asking can’t give you anything other than a first name, general description, and the reason that the patient is in the hospital.
Somehow “Completely average looking guy with the last name Smith who was stabbed in the stomach” is not enough for the receptionist to go off of.
“There are multiple people here that fit that description. I would need at least a first and last name before I could even begin to start seeing if you were someone who we even could give updates to. No, I will not continue to play your fun little game of guess the first name.” She says when Andrew opens his mouth to start listing off names alphabetically again.
So now Andrew and Neil found themselves under the watchful eye of a security guard as they sat in the back corner of the front reception area.
“I can’t believe we still don’t know what Smith’s first name is.” Neil says his face is buried in his hands as he and Andrew sit in the uncomfortable chairs trying to figure out where to go from here.
“I think she knows exactly who we want to see.” Andrew scowls towards the receptionist who, long used to the ire of the public, pays him no mind. Andrew just refused to believe that there were that many brown haired, brown eyed, average height and weight guys who had suffered a stab wound to the stomach that would have been admitted in the last two hours.
“I just hope they actually are looking after him and that no one went and forgot about him in an hallway somewhere.” Neil says hands sliding up into his hair to grip.
“That wouldn’t happen.” Andrew dismisses despite knowing that Wymack had ABSOLUTELY forgotten FF at a stadium once during the period where FF had been low presence to keep his family from bothering him.
The U-turn he had pulled had definitely been illegal when FF called and asked where the bus was when they had been on the road for five minutes. Wymack had felt terrible about it but FF had just seemed relieved that the bus had come back for him.
Wymack.
Andrew pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. Wymack, reliable as always, picks up on the fourth ring with the sound of cursing as he got the phone up to his ear. “What.” He asks and Andrew can hear the sounds of driving and Kevin’s infamously train-like snoring in the background.
“What’s Smith first name. You know it.” Andrew demands.
“Classified.” Wymack clips back immediately.
“I need to know it so that we can get updates.” Andrew hisses.
“He isn’t interested in people knowing it and you wouldn’t be able to get updates anyways.” Wymack dismisses.
“We want to be able to head back to see him.” Neil tries.
“Visiting hours are long over Josten. You know that I’m not settling that bet that you little fuckers have floating around about this.” Wymack responds back.
Andrew grits his teeth and then forces himself to relax his jaw, “It’s not about the bet.” Andrew shuts his eyes in irritation.
That stupid bet.
The betting culture within the Palmetto State Foxes Exy team that Reynold’s had cultivated held strong even after her graduation with the remaining Foxes. The Bet had started when one of the other freshmen had mentioned that it was funny that FF went around like Cher or Madonna. The realization that none of them knew FF’s first name was one that had them placing bets on a multitude of things. Things like: “Do you wanna bet it’s a super normal boring name?”, “Do you wanna bet that it’s a weird foreign name?”, and “Is FF intentionally not giving it out to people or since he goes by his last name normally he has no idea that anything is amiss?” Had lower pools since you were betting on a spectrum. The bet with the highest pool is: “What is FF’s first name”.
Wymack had categorically refused to answer it and all other attempts to discover FF’s first name had been met with frustration. There was a solemn agreement that no one could just go and outright ask him since that would ruin all of the fun. Andrew had agreed to not ask when the team had collectively filled his freezer with ice cream cake and he was a man of his word.
The general belief (after the revelation of his major and the number of languages FF spoke) was that FF’s name was just not easy to pronounce for English speakers.
Andrew hadn’t participated but he know that the Foxes do have a running list of names they know it’s not. (Greg, Will, Smith (again), Matt, Kevin, Neil, Andrew, Aaron, Nathaniel, Jack, Beyonce (Sheena’s drunken guess), Nicholas, John, Fred, Garfield, Frank, Alfred, Augustus, Adam, etc. (Andrew had been trying to guess with the receptionist for a while))
“You’re coming here aren’t you? We can get updates when you get them.” Neil says.
“He’s in emergency surgery right now and will remain there for the next few hours most likely. There’s not going to be any updates hopefully.” Wymack says with a sigh loud enough that they can hear it over Kevin’s snoring.
“Surgery? He needs surgery?” Neil asks sounding surprised s if FF hadn’t been stabbed to the hilt into his stomach with one of Andrew’s knives. He’s about to give Neil some shit for the question before remembering that if there was any person who would think that a stab wound to the stomach wouldn’t necessitate surgery it would be Neil “I’m Fine” Josten.
“Yes Josten, he needs surgery. They have to stitch up his stomach and the surgeons are also going to be dealing with some of the ulcers that were ruptured by the knife.” Wymack explains likely coming to the same conclusion that Andrew had on Neil’s stupid question. “They were a bit worried about him bleeding out but he stabilized before the surgery.” Wymack sighs.
“I’m going the hospital since I’m Smith’s medical proxy. If anything goes wrong with the surgery I want to be there so I can make an informed decision on his care.” Wymack says and… Andrew figured there’d be surgery but to hear it and the possibility that something could go wrong, that the last thing FF had said to him had been something non-sensical about “Gracie Hart wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. I’m Cheryl at best.”as he’d started succumbing to all the blood loss. “If you could stick around long enough for me to drop Kevin off with you I would appreciate it.” Wymack says.
“What if he needs a blood transfusion?” Andrew says.
“Smith is AB-, it’s the second easiest blood type to transfuse into. Go home Andrew.” Wymack repeats.
Andrew works his jaw irritated that there didn’t seem to be a path to getting his way.
“We’ll stay here until you get here.” Andrew agrees, “But you’ll get an update before we leave.” He adds.
Wymack sighs, “Fair enough.” He says before hanging up.
It’s 45 minutes of waiting and tossing a few more name possibilities at the receptionist who seems more amused than anything at their continued attempts to guess their friend’s first name (Neil goes through the entire list of names that he’s gone by and none of them get the thumbs up).
Wymack comes through the doors with a half awake Kevin Day following his steps. “I have another favor to ask you.” Wymack says instead of any form of greeting.
“I’m not going to leave Kevin in the car overnight again. It was just that one time.” Andrew says with a roll of his eyes and honestly he’d been punished enough listening to Kevin bitch, moan, and sneeze for the following week while talking about all the supplements he was taking.
“Not that,” Wymack pauses, “I have two favors to ask you. First don’t do that. Second, would you be able to pick up Smith’s grandma from the airport tomorrow?” He asks.
Andrew blinks.
“She’s coming here?” He asks.
“I updated her on my way here. She booked a flight and will be arriving around noon tomorrow.” Wymack says and Andrew doesn’t know why he’s confused by this. FF’s grandma got him two still warm pies to cheer him up on Thanksgiving.
He’d stabbed that woman’s grandson.
“I’ll pick her up.” He agrees.
Shorter one today
NEXT
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
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The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.
As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?
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Lucerys doesn’t remember much of the outside world.
There are faint memories, flashes of silver streaks and high pitched giggles. A faceless brown haired boy with a hand always held out for him to take. Lucerys remembers feeling warm, a lightness to his otherwise empty chest as he chases the high of his dreams.
Aemond tells him it’s his overactive imagination. That the outside world wasn’t good, that their childhood was nothing but pain and despair. That’s probably why he never lets Lucerys out of the house.
Every morning Aemond leaves him with a peck on the lips and a promise of return. During that time Lucerys is left alone to his devices, cleaning the house and playing with his kitten, Jace. Never mind that Aemond absolutely hates the cat, he’s not the one stuck at home bored out of his mind. At exactly five in the afternoon, Aemond comes home and Lucerys is there to welcome him. With open arms and a hearty dinner.
It’s repetitive but it’s all Lucerys has ever known. All he’s ever remembered since the accident. Aemond doesn’t like talking about the accident. Whenever Lucerys tries to ask about it his lover’s expression becomes unreadable and he’d have to deal with a brooding Aemond for the rest of the day. Sometimes, when Lucerys pushes too much he wouldn’t see Aemond until the next morning. The idea of cheating had never crossed Lucerys’ mind, usually by then he’d been too inconsolable. His separation anxiety turning him into a sobbing mess and only Aemond’s warm arms and comforting hum could make him stop.
There was one time when Lucerys had managed to summon the courage, he’d asked Aemond where he went to every Friday. And why he came home so late. He didn’t expect much, in fact he’d expected it to get ignored. The same way all of his questions about the outside world was. Much to his surprise, Aemond had stared into Lucerys’ face with an expression that was absolutely devastated.
‘To a dear nephew.’ He confessed. That night Aemond had told him about a beloved nephew who had been in the same accident as Lucerys, except unlike him the boy never woke up. He’d explained what the doctors had said, that he may never wake up ever again. Forever caged to his hospital bed and connected to wires. After that night, after seeing the devastation and despair in his beloved’s face Lucerys never asked again. He didn’t like seeing Aemond like that.
“My Aemond is so handsome,”Lucerys teased, tying his lover’s tie with expert fingers. “It almost makes me want to tie you to our bed and keep you here forever.”
The older man chuckled, his sapphire eye glinting in the morning light. With his long arms he encircled them around Lucerys’ waist and pulled him closer. “Promises, promises.”
Lucerys eagerly accepted his kisses, basking in the affection before his beloved once again left him for the day. It almost made him want to pout and charm his way into keeping Aemond home today, it’s not like he hasn’t done it before. It usually took some effort and the man was nothing short of disciplined but with enough kisses and suggestive petting, he’d find himself back in bed and a playful Aemond on top of him.
Breaking away from the kiss, Lucerys rested his forehead on Aemond’s and sighed. “Are you sure you have to go to work today?”
The pale blond almost looked apologetic, giving him another peck on the lips. “I’m afraid this meeting is impossible to reschedule, my dragon.”
Although unsurprising, Lucerys found himself grumbling as he begrudgingly untangled himself from the older man. He could do nothing but pout as he went back to straightening his beloved’s crumpled suit, determine to keep Aemond looking sharp and put together no matter how much he wanted to tear the suit off and not fix it. “What do geneticists even talk about in meetings? Don’t you guys just stare at microscopes and petri dishes all day?”
Aemond let out an amused huff, shaking his head at the younger boy’s adorable grumpiness. “Silly taoba, do you really want me to stay that much?”
Lucerys stayed quiet, stubbornly refusing to meet his eye. If Aemond didn’t want to stay with him today then he wasn’t going to force him. He wasn’t some dumb doll created solely to rely on Aemond and fawn for his attention. He had more pride than that, thank you very much.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Aemond grin in amusement. A gentle hand on his chin coaxed him to look up and Lucerys once again found himself staring at the breathtaking view of his love’s pale lilac eye and the blue sapphire.
“Don’t worry my love. Once I finally prove to them that human cloning is impossible then I can finally shut this research down. That means more time for you and me.” Aemond cooed, bringing the younger boy back into his arms.
“Promise?”Lucerys asked, his voice tiny but hopeful.
“I promise.” Lucerys beamed at his lover’s quick response, feeling warm all over.
“Besides,”Lucerys feels more than hears Aemond’s voice from where he’s pressed his cheek on the taller man’s chest, “Human cloning should be left as it is. Who knows what kind of crazy things sick fucks would do if it was possible.”
Lucerys hums along in agreement.
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so lately i’ve been obsessed with a 141 dancer au
gaz runs classes, has a youtube channel and quickly becomes one of the most sought after choreographers in the music video scene. soap is his dance partner for his classes, he helps run them and does demonstrations with him
ghost is also a choreographer and he’s gaz’s Arch Nemesis
he's famous for never performing his routines, never doing public appearances without his skull mask and being highly exclusive with who he allows to perform his choreo which earns him his name (since he’s a ghost creator). gaz however is a social media darling, his classes and videos regularly doing huge numbers
they both popped up around the same time and are neck and neck in terms of popularity and skill and they immediately rub each other the wrong way
gaz accuses ghost of not actually choreographing his routines himself bc no one has ever seen him dance and ghost thinks gaz is a clout chaser who's just in it for the fame instead of passion
he became a dancer as a way to channel his rage after years of being an underground fighter, the discipline and physicality helping him more than fights ever did. he hates the thought of someone just using it just to get famous when it literally saved his life
deep down they know their accusations are wrong and they have a grudging appreciation for the other's talent but they'd both rather die than admit it
price is a famous dancer turned director they both work with frequently and they always fight over him; trying to get their routines picked for his music videos. he's also the only one in the industry who's ever seen the ghost perform (before he got famous and before the Incident™)
he finally gets fed up with them constantly being at each other's throats and hires them both to work together and choreograph a joint routine. they're both famous in their own right but this video is for a huge artist so neither of them can refuse no matter how much they hate the other
gaz has a gymnastics background but also a ballet background which lends him to a more fluid style whereas ghost’s style is stronger, more masculine with sharper movements so they naturally end up butting heads
then there's soap who has a completely different style altogether, focusing on a more modern, breakdancer style which makes him see everything completely differently
but it also adds to his self-doubt bc he didn't have a formal dance education, he built his entire repertoire by himself. people see him as inferior to gaz who has that very formal, highly disciplined style. his insecurities about only ever being seen as gaz's demonstration partner and that he can only do gaz’s routines so all his skill is just an extension of him instead of being seen as a dancer in his own right forces him to adopt a rigid - destructive - perfectionism in himself and his body
soap meets ghost before the first rehearsal. he gets to the studio early to practice when sees this beautiful man dancing
he has no idea who he is but he moves so seamlessly, almost better than gaz, and he immediately falls a little in love. the man catches him watching in the mirror and he flusters, getting worse as the man just smirks at him and flawlessly completes the routine
soap tries to save face and asks him to teach him the routine he's doing
the man agrees, introducing himself as simon. the style of the routine is familiar to soap but he can't focus on it when simon's hands are on his waist, guiding him through the steps; his chest pressed up against his back. they work together beautifully, picking up each other's body language and dancing together easier and better than they've ever danced with anyone
then gaz arrives and the vibe in the studio immediately changes
simon's easy confidence becomes hostility, pulling up the skull gaiter he'd let hang around his neck as he practically pushes soap behind him to square up to gaz
soap’s shocked when gaz hits back with the same energy until he realises it's the same way he acts whenever he talks about ghost and his stomach drops
he steps out from behind ghost to side with gaz and the betrayal in simon's eyes hurts more than anything he's ever felt
from there it's romeo and juliet; camp gaz versus camp ghost as they fight over every step of the choreo and soap is the poor bastard stuck in the middle
soap tries to channel that “you’re my best friend’s rival, i have to hate you,” mindset but he can’t forget the way it felt to dance with simon
and how much he wants to do it again
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