Chapter Text
The day had already been bad enough, being shoved around and teased by most of his taller peers.
The newest name, "Vincent Van Gay" was accompanied by the ripping of a sketch he had made in english, thankfully not yet transfered onto a canvas (you can't exactly sneakily paint, and he rather prefers not getting into trouble.)
It would have actually been kind of funny if it hadn't been accompanied by a snear and the destruction of his artwork, and, of course, fear of what else they may do. Thankfully the teacher shut that down fast, but he still made sure to get to his art class as soon as possible.
His bandage felt a little tight, but really he could only fault himself for even needing it in the first place.
Stepping into the art classroom, Van Gogh let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Whatever. He was safe here, so he may as well calm down and get to work on yet another of his paintings.
Predictable as it is, Vincent was currently painting a sunflower field at the break of dawn. Pale blues with warm yellows and just a little tad of reds made up the sky, while tall, backlit sunflowers spread as far as the eye could see. A small smile found it's way onto his face as he studied the colors and compositions of his work. Almost done. He was about to add the finishing touches when the bell rung loud and sharp. At this rate I'll be deaf by 20, Vince thought pessimistically.
Alas, his day would only get worse from here on. The teacher called him up before he could get out of the door. He felt the strong urge to just run, but it was lunch, and he usually spent any free periods in the art classroom anyways. Could at least let me go grab some food first.
He didn't voice this thought, though the annoyance on his face read clearly enough.
Taking a seat in front of his teacher, Van Gogh murmured, "...What?.."
She cleared her throat, "John F. Kennedy is failing this class, and I want you to help him improve. He's already said he'd be okay with you being his tutor, we just need you to agree."
Ohhh no. Oh no. This cannot be good
Apparently his apprehension was obvious, because she spoke up again. "Pleeeease? I'll let you take home some of my art supplies if you agree." That is a tempting offer...
"... Fiiine. You better not back out of the deal." He huffed, trying to look stern, but he looked more like an angry kitten than anything else.
"Great!!" She beamed, "Now go grab some lunch and i'll see if I can get him over here in a couple minutes!"
Sighing, Van Gogh strode out of the room to retrieve some food, probably just a pudding cup from the cafeteria.
Half way to the cafeteria, he really started kicking himself for agreeing.
Why did I say yes? I'm such an idiot...
Van Gogh took a sharp turn toward the mens' bathroom. He'd just wait the day out and go home. He could deal with this on Monday.
Once again, however, the artist's day was about to get tremendously worse. He stepped into the bathroom, and right into a sweater-clad body. Kennedy. Just say sorry and step past him- "Oh! Er, hi, Van! Did Mrs. O'Keeffe tell ya about the er, uh, art stuff?" Fuck.
His throat felt dry. Gulping, he responded, "... Um, yeah." Hoping this was enough, he tried pushing past him to sulk until the day was over. JFK clearly didn't notice this, however, "So what'd you er, say? Will you help me?"
"... Yeah." He muttered, still trying to push by JFK, but it was no use. JFK, seemingly oblivious, didn't move from the doorway and continued talking. "Great! Uh, my place, after, er, school?" Great, no time to calm down. Vincent didn't voice this thought. "Sure..."
"See ya then, shorty!" He laughed, walking away finally.
Fucking hell.