Why anyone still believed group projects were a good idea was beyond Shinjiro. Sure, there was the theory that it would help the students socialize and understand from their peers, the lacking students be motivated and encouraged by the more successful, and took pressure off the teachers. But it seemed to fail at taking into account what sheer, unmotivated assholes some people could be when they were guaranteed an 'A' based on someone else's determined, frantic work.
It also failed to take into account the unprecedented venom that could build up in the one being taken advantage of.
And all this is how Shinjiro ended up in the library, staring at the page of a book that might have been related to the topic at hand (something to do with... cell division? Or maybe that had been a few weeks ago. Like hell he remembered,) but there was no guarantee, between the impossibly small text, the scientific jargon, and the fucking discomfort and irritation at being forced to sit across one of the wooden tables from his research-project-partner
( ... )
Aragaki didn't even have the right book with him, Hidetoshi noticed with a scowl. Not that he expected much else from his classmate. Having to work with another student on a project like this was bad enough, that he had been assigned Aragaki of all people was even worse. The teacher already seemed to think Hidetoshi should have been making his lab partner do better work - as if he hadn't tried! - and now this. Really, if his grade wouldn't have been negatively impacted by Aragaki not at least pretending to pull his own weight he wouldn't have even bothered.
"You don't even remember what the project is about, do you."
He lifted his head enough to give Hidetoshi a flat look. At least there was no expectation there, so he could continue playing the part of the dumbass slacker without remorse or second-guessing. A shoulder rolled apathetically, and he pulled his arms back from the table to fold them, itching his arm absently.
"Guess not," He sport dryly. "Hell, I might not've even been there." No, he remembered being there: And he was sure if he cared enough about the class he would remember what they were looking up, but right now he was far more preoccupied with wondering when the mail would be coming in and what he had left in his fridge, what had likely been taken by a roommate, and what he could make with the rest. But that was probably far too much introspection to admit, and the assumption that he was worthless alleytrash wasn't one that he cared to amend anytime soon.
Hell, he kind of liked it.
"How 'bout you just tell me what to do. There'll be a lot less bitchin' when you don't like what I do, that way."
"No, you were there. Whether or not you were paying attention is another matter altogether."
Aragaki certainly hadn't looked like he was paying attention in class - nor did he seem to be paying much attention now. It was just his luck to be constantly paired with someone like him. Not that many of his fellow students ever seemed to be much better, always more concerned with school rumors and the like than with their duties. They really needed someone to show them the proper way. Putting aside his thoughts, Hidetoshi handed the other boy a short stack of books on the proper subject.
"Go through these and mark off anything that might be useful - we're giving a presentation on syphilis. There's an instruction sheet with the topics we're supposed to cover."
Knowing Aragaki he'd probably lost his, so he'd added a copy of the instructions to the stack.
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And do I gotta turn anything in tomorrow?
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It also failed to take into account the unprecedented venom that could build up in the one being taken advantage of.
And all this is how Shinjiro ended up in the library, staring at the page of a book that might have been related to the topic at hand (something to do with... cell division? Or maybe that had been a few weeks ago. Like hell he remembered,) but there was no guarantee, between the impossibly small text, the scientific jargon, and the fucking discomfort and irritation at being forced to sit across one of the wooden tables from his research-project-partner ( ... )
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"You don't even remember what the project is about, do you."
It wasn't even a question, really.
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"Guess not," He sport dryly. "Hell, I might not've even been there." No, he remembered being there: And he was sure if he cared enough about the class he would remember what they were looking up, but right now he was far more preoccupied with wondering when the mail would be coming in and what he had left in his fridge, what had likely been taken by a roommate, and what he could make with the rest. But that was probably far too much introspection to admit, and the assumption that he was worthless alleytrash wasn't one that he cared to amend anytime soon.
Hell, he kind of liked it.
"How 'bout you just tell me what to do. There'll be a lot less bitchin' when you don't like what I do, that way."
Reply
Aragaki certainly hadn't looked like he was paying attention in class - nor did he seem to be paying much attention now. It was just his luck to be constantly paired with someone like him. Not that many of his fellow students ever seemed to be much better, always more concerned with school rumors and the like than with their duties. They really needed someone to show them the proper way. Putting aside his thoughts, Hidetoshi handed the other boy a short stack of books on the proper subject.
"Go through these and mark off anything that might be useful - we're giving a presentation on syphilis. There's an instruction sheet with the topics we're supposed to cover."
Knowing Aragaki he'd probably lost his, so he'd added a copy of the instructions to the stack.
Reply
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