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Jeff was a fucking failure.
The paper sat on his desk, taunting him, giving him concrete proof, a number in bright red pen telling him how much of a fuckup he was. He slumped over, head in his arms, staring at it.
57.
All that studying, sleepless nights pouring over the textbooks, making sure he had everything down as much as humanly possible, and this was all he had to answer for. A failed exam, and a disappointed shake of the head from Saitomo as he’d deposited the paper on his desk.
You should be better than this. The head shake told him.
What’s wrong with you?
Do you think you’re going to get into college now?
57.
He was distantly aware of the bell ringing as he looked at the number, willing it to change before his eyes, for his bleary vision to clear and realize actually, the numbers went around the other way, he was just misreading it.
No such luck.
He’d bombed. And there was nothing he could do about it.
On the verge of falling apart right there, transfixed on the grade, rushing through every possibility for how he could make this up in his head(Extra credit? Begging for a retake? Making sure he did perfect on everything else and hope that compensated?) Jeff felt something gently tap him on the shoulder.
Jeff tore his attention away from the paper, and saw that Satch was standing over his desk. “Oh uh, hey.”
“Hey,” Satch greeted, “The bell for lunch rang a bit ago, were you gonna head to the cafeteria?”
Oh.
Jeff was not going to be able to eat after this. Jeff was not going to be able to sit with his friends, pretend everything was normal and not freak out about this. The very idea put a sick, twisting knot in his stomach and the only one who’d indulge him, wouldn’t say anything, would be Ian. Everyone else would notice and prod and try to get him to talk and he’d have to let the whole club know what a failure he was.
He was too..too…
“Uh, I actually have to grab something from my room, but I’ll be there after,” Jeff shot hima smile that he hoped didn’t look too fake.
“As long as the ‘something’s’ not more homework to do at lunch,” Satch said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been working yourself pretty hard,”
Not hard enough.
“Yeah.” Jeff pretended to agree, and stood up to gather his things. “I’ll see ya, I just gotta get all of this crap together. ”
“Alright, be good,” Satch said with a wave and a lingering look before he left.
Jeff gave himself a few moments to compose himself, and take a deep breath. He had to keep himself together.
He walked, legs taking him on autopilot. Left. Right. Left. He was fine.
Down the staircase. Pay attention here, don’t want to slip.
Everything was fine. It was just one failed test. He shouldn’t be so stressed out about this. It happened.
Out the doors of Poppy Hall.
It happened to pretty much everyone. Nobody was perfect, and he knew that a bad grade once in a while didn’t make you a bad person. So what, if Jeff hadn’t gotten anything lower than a B since coming to Asagao?
Left. Right. Left.
So what if it was going to drag his average in this class into the mud?
Turn here, Bluebell was this way.
Maybe he wouldn’t get into his first choice college. Or second. Or third. It wasn’t the end of the world. Someone would take him. They’d take the rest of his grades into account.
Through the doors. Up a few flights of stairs.
It’d just be this…one class. One class he didn’t do great in.
Down the hall.
Sticking out like a sore thumb.
All they’d be thinking was “What kind of idiot couldn’t pass a History class?” History was just memorizing facts and dates. Who couldn’t do that?
Jeff didn’t even make it to his bed. He threw himself face down onto the couch, threw his bag of useless fucking textbooks and assignments at the wall and let out a huge shaking breath as tears, burning hot, spilled out of his eyes, streaking down his cheeks.
He was a fucking failure.
He fell apart, sobbing into the cushions, feeling and no doubt looking pathetic.
All of this because he just hadn’t studied hard enough for that stupid test. God he shouldn’t have gone to Ian’s that night, that was probably too much of a distraction. He should’ve…should’ve snuck into Poppy Hall or something. Studied in some quiet corner that nobody would be able to interrupt with a snarky comment about something he’d seen on Tumblr, or tempt him into complaining about the work instead of focusing on it.
Jeff curled up and hugged the cushion like it would disappear, like he wished someone would do for him.
Eventually, he was too tired to keep crying, had let so much out all he could do was feel his body shudder almost painfully, no tears coming out. He just…laid there, willing himself to just wake up and find that this had all been a bad dream.
The door creaked.
Shit. Shit.
“Jeff?”
He really didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Crying over something as stupid as a failed test. Especially not PBG. He barely cared about school, never understood why Jeff pushed himself like this, like he’d at all be sympathetic about that.
“Hey.” Jeff felt weight settle on the other end of the couch, and a hand brush his shoulder. “You okay? Satch said you looked pretty rough in class today,”
“I’m fine,” he muttered. PBG couldn’t see his face, couldn't see the red, puffy eyes so maybe he’d believe him.
“Y’know…” the hand on his shoulder tightened, not nearly enough to satisfy the part of Jeff aching for the touch. “It’s getting pretty hard to hear you and Ian always saying then when we can all tell you’re not,”
“We’re-”
“Jeff.” PBG’s voice was soft, but unyielding. “I know what you sound like when you’ve been crying. What happened?”
“...57,” was all Jeff was able to say without crumbling right back into the pieces he’d only barely pulled himself back together from. He felt unbelievably stupid. It wasn’t even that low of a grade, low enough to pull everything down for sure, but not enough he should be fucking crying like a kid over it.
“Oh.”
He waited for the inevitable, for the laughter, to be brushed off because really? and could feel himself on the verge of another sob.
To say Jeff didn’t expect to be hauled out of his fetal position on the couch, to be wrapped in arms, and feel his face pressed against warm fabric and hugged was an understatement.
Jeff shattered.
“I know it probably feels like the end of the world, but it’s not, okay?” PBG held him tight, as Jeff sobbed into him and couldn't argue through the tears that yes it was.
A hand ran through his hair. “Dude, I think you just need sleep. Everything sucks worse when you’re tired,.”
It was muffled into PBG’s chest, probably barely coherent but Jeff managed to choke out a single word, “Class,”
Because he was right. He was so tired. He’d been pulling actual all nighters, not just making do with a couple of hours, and he wasn’t as used to those like Ian was. Jeff really, really needed to actually sleep. And maybe he would. Tonight. After school was over and he got all of his homework and maybe some extra credit done, he’d actually shut his eyes for a few hours but…
“To hell with class.” Of course PBG would say that, he’d skipped class all the time earlier this year, “You can get notes from someone else, and make it up later, you really think you’re going to be able to pay attention anyway?”
Jeff didn’t have an argument for that. He didn’t like that he didn’t have an argument for that. Noises escaped his mouth, trying to form one anyway.
“Please?”
…How had Jeff come to this, his best friend begging him just to get some rest?
The worst part was, Jeff didn’t imagine himself in PBG’s shoes, watching his friend tear himself apart. Watching him...hurt himself. Because he didn’t have to. He’d been there, was still there and he just let it happen.
PBG was a much better friend than Jeff was, wasn’t he?
“Okay.” he agreed, shutting his eyes, kind of hoping PBG would just…stay there. That doing that wouldn’t be too inconvenient for him, since he’d be missing out on the rest of lunch and his own classes as well. Because this was warm and comfortable and safe and he could already feel himself drifting off.
The last thing he remembered before succumbing to sleep was a soft sigh of relief, and being held closer.