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Of course, it would rain. This is Gotham. What the hell did you think the weather would be like? Oliver Queen didn’t mind the rain, but he would rather it didn’t rain while he had to study. He was already too prone to distracting himself without all the goths going cuckoo-bananas over the weather.
It wouldn’t be a problem if he was living in Starling City. The goths over there at least had the decency to be quiet instead of whatever noisy fuck-festival his classmates were doing outside his door.
He didn’t even want to be here! But he got “kicked out” of his fancy school back home so his parents sent him to this boarding Hogwarts-wannabe shithole of a school. This school is so old but so old that every floorboard has an assigned ghost. This school is so ugly but so ugly that the freshmen throw up every time they look at it from the outside. This school is so boring but so dull that Oliver doesn’t even have to close his eyes to catch Zs.
Of course, it wouldn’t be so bad if Tommy was here with him, but the asshole somehow didn’t get caught. They had been smoking weed, for fucks sake. It wasn’t as if they were doing cocaine or some shit. Everyone knows weed isn’t a real drug. Now he had to spend the rest of the semester in the ass of the world. It’s not even as if he was kicked out. His parents will pay the principal so he can study there again next year. This is just his parents' way of punishing him.
Oliver would come around eventually. He didn’t want to spend the entire semester studying for real. He would much rather get into some trouble. For that, he would need friends, which would mean talking to the weird Gotham goths that populated this school.
He already knew who he was going to befriend. There was the talkative puppy of a person, Harvey Dent, whom Oliver would convince to do his homework. The upperclassman, Roman Sionis, whom Oliver knew for a fact could get him some weed. And last but not least, Bruce Wayne, because he has more money than he has balls, and that’s precisely what Oliver likes in his allies. There was also Tommy Elliot, but Oliver already has a Tommy and doesn’t need another one.
Eventually, the noise outside died down, and Oliver finally got some good fucking peace. He managed to read one single page of the book he had to analyze before passing it out on his desk. Oliver woke up two hours later with a knocking on his door.
He opened the door, still half asleep, to find none other than the police standing right in front of him.
“What?” He said so eloquently that it would have made Shakespeare cry.
“We are sorry to bother you, Mister Queen. But you were unaccounted for during the evacuation.” Said the police officer, looking flabbergasted. “We were afraid something might have happened to you.”
“Don’t apologize, John.”
“My name is Gordon.”
“Don’t apologize, Gordon. Why was the school being evacuated?”
“There was a bomb found in the principal’s office.”
“A what?!”
“Yes. It was incredibly dangerous. So I must ask, why didn’t you evacuate with the others, Mister Queen?”
“Because I was asleep!”
“You slept through the entire evacuation? Including the school’s sirens?”
Oh, so that was what the noisy fuck-festival was.
“Yep, slept right through.”
Gordon sighed.
“Very well, Mister Queen. Please, next time, try to avoid sleeping through evacuations.”
“Do those happen a lot?”
Gordon looked at his partner and then back at him.
“Yes.” He said and left.
The next day, during lunch, Oliver walked up to Bruce Wayne and his click of weirdos and sat down.
“Can anybody tell me why no one thought of waking me up during the evacuation yesterday?”
“You slept through the evacuation?” Asked Harvey, also looking flabbergasted.
“We were busy running for our lives. No one has time to come back for another rich brat.” Said Roman.
“Aren’t you a rich brat, though?” Asked Tommy number two.
“Yes.” Answered Roman.
“Do you want me to pick you up if it happens again, Oliver? Our dorm rooms are right next to the other.” Said Bruce.
“Thank you, Wednesday Adams. I appreciate it.”
“See! I told you, you look like her!” Said Harvey, way too excitedly for Oliver’s taste.
“I do not.”
“You do, buddy.”
“It’s the all-black schoolboy uniform with the slicked hair. Makes you look particularly creepy.”
“You think I’m creepy, Oliver?”
“In a victorian-boy-that-died-from-influenza way, yes.”
“Did a lot of Victorians die of influenza?” Tommy asked Roman again.
“Do I look like a fucking nerd to you?”
“Kinda.”
“I am not creepy and certainly not a Victorian boy that died from influenza!”
“Why are you British, though? I thought you were a Gotham Goth or whatever.” Asked Oliver.
“Do you mean a Gothamite?” Asked Tommy.
“I am not calling either of you that.”
“He is from Gotham, but his babysitter is british.” Teased, Roman.
“Alfred is not my babysitter he is my butler.”
“Damn, your butler is british? All my butlers are from Starcity. My dad insists on it. Something about giving jobs to people, or whatever.” Oliver said and put his legs up on top of the lunch table.
“I think that’s nice of your dad,” Bruce mumbled.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. He is a selfish asshole.” Oliver added. “He could very well fix the entire economy disparity of the city and still be wealthy, but he would rather give them crumbs.”
“Can’t you do that?” Asked Harvey. “When you get the company, I mean.”
Oliver laughed.
“What’s so funny, Queen?”
“Oh, I’m not inheriting the company.”
“What do you mean?” Bruce asked.
“My dad wouldn’t trust me with a fly, let alone his baby. He doesn’t think I’m good enough for it.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, Oliver,” Bruce said, obviously trying to comfort him.
Oliver smiled at him and then looked at Roman. He put his feet down and scooted closer so he could drop himself on top of the older boy.
“I am so sad. So miserable, Roman. You have no idea how sad I am.” He pretended to cry to prove his sadness. “I will never be happy again. God took away all the happiness in my life. Only one thing could bring me some comfort right now.”
Roman rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. He tried to push the boy away from him, but Oliver was dead set on his act.
“What do you want, Queen?”
“Can you get me a blunt?”
“For fucks sake. Alright, you asshole. Now get off of me.”
Oliver did just that and grinned in triumph.
“You smoke, Oliver?”
“Do you, Wayne?”
“No.” He answered almost shyly.
“You’re not an extrovert, are you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Oh, Bruce can 100% be an extrovert if the party is right,” Tommy said with a laugh.
“Yeah, he just likes to behave in school.”
“Oh, so he plays teacher’s pet for extra points?”
“Yes!” The others said in unison while Bruce scowled.
“I am not playing anything. I am simply well-behaved.”
“Bruce, I’ve seen you doing body shots in that one club you petty-bought. Don’t even try to deny it.”
“Wait, you petty-bought a club? In which do you do body shots? Why wasn’t I friends with you before?!”
“I do not know what you are talking about. I have done no such thing.”
Roman leaned in and whispered to Oliver.
“When he lies, he sounds posh.”
“I do not!”
Oliver chuckled. “Oh, my God! You do.”
Bruce scowled some more and rolled his eyes. “I hate all of you.”
“Oh, no! You’re not going to kill us for our disrespect, are you, King Wayne?” Roman teased.
“I might.”
“Not me, though. I’m the Queen. Can’t kill the Queen.” Said Oliver.
“Oh, Oliver. Have you never heard of Henry the Eighth?” Asked Bruce, with a mischievous look in his eyes.
“Who?”