emeraldembers: (Default)
[personal profile] emeraldembers

> professor cracking jokes about “happy pills”

[I am raging that you and your class had to sit through such ignorance. *hugs*]

Sandy hasn’t sat next to Pitch during the lecture because he’s forgotten his glasses and needs to be close to the front as a result, but he’s seriously regretting that choice. His fists are clenched and he’s torn as to whether it’s out of a desire to punch the smug, self-righteous asshole “teaching” them or whether it’s because he needs to be holding Pitch’s hands in his own.

A fear of “happy pills” is part of the reason Pitch wears long-sleeved shirts in the middle of summer. The damage done by years of avoiding them is part of why Pitch still flinches when Sandy slides his hands under Pitch’s shirt, why he always seems a little surprised when Sandy kisses him, why they met in the same classes despite Pitch having studied at the university a year longer.

Pitch’s life was on hold before a fear of dying by his own hand overcame his fear of being labelled weak and he started taking the tablets that helped him regain control. Sandy wonders if anyone else in the class fears being weak, fears being thought of as silly, as pathetic. He wonders if they think taking drugs for mental illness is shameful, despite the fact they’ll knock back caffeine tablets to pull all-nighters or painkillers to fight off hangovers.

When the lesson is over, Sandy looks for Pitch, runs outside and finds him leaning against the wall, head bowed and collar turned up, scarf wrapped high around his neck.

He’s hiding in plain sight, and Sandy approaches him slowly, touches a hand to Pitch’s chest to check for permission before Pitch nods and lets Sandy hug him.

“Fuck him. Fuck him, he doesn’t know you.”

Pitch stays tense at first as he hugs Sandy back, but a few unsteady breaths later he relaxes, combing his fingers through Sandy’s hair. “I should have said something,” Pitch says, quiet and thoughtful, and he closes his eyes before pressing a kiss to the top of Sandy’s head.

“I’ll print something off, send it to the Equality and Diversity guys. They don’t have to know it’s us saying it, as long as it’s said.” Sandy knows it’s a compromise, but their lecturer is tight about test scores as it is without rubbing him up the wrong way.

It’s more important for now to make sure Pitch is alright than that their asshole of a lecturer gets his comeuppance.

“You’ve got two hours until your next workshop, right? I’m not in another lecture for an hour. Lets get a coffee.” He loosens his hold on Pitch, keeps his hands on Pitch’s sides, rubbing gently. “Or hot chocolate. Let me spoil you.”

Pitch only offers a half-smile, but it’s enough to see him make the effort. “I think I can allow that.”


emeraldembers: (Default)

January 2016

3 45 6789

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 22nd, 2017 02:34 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios