SBI - His Curse of Binding

4

Now, Tommy didn't mean to upset Tubbo. It was the school's fault.

For his timetable to go from maths class to history, the school was just asking for him to press the fire alarm. Sure, it meant all the year groups had to stand on the AstroTurf field in the cold November weather, but it was worth it. Well, ignoring how the headteacher told everyone she'd check the cameras to see who pulled the alarm, Tubbo kept glaring at him, and how he did end up having to spend at least half an hour in his history class after all, then it was worth it.

Tubbo didn't agree.

"Why did you choose the one day I didn't bring in a coat to pull that shit?" his new friend had been complaining for the past five minutes about how cold he was, so much that Tommy had to give him his coat. He didn't willingly do this, Tubbo snatched it out of his hands—but he did loosen his grip at the last second.

"If you had to go from learning about quadratic equations to L'manberg, you'd do the same," Tommy replied as his history teacher, Miss Allingham, wrote the learning objective of the lesson on the whiteboard.

"I was in your maths class, Tommy! I would've had to as well!"

"Well, case closed."

"That doesn't even make sense—"

"Case closed."

With Tubbo huffing more objections to Tommy's astound logic, they both placed their textbooks on the desk. He may have stolen his textbook from the library, but it was justified. He'd never spend money on having to learn about his own fucking history.

So far with these lessons, Tommy managed to get away with blanking out his teacher's words. Instead, he focused on writing messages on the corner of Tubbo's notebook pages—it ranged from insults, swears and the phrase 'bee boy' written in the various languages Tommy knew. Every time Tubbo asked what it meant, Tommy always answered with a different incorrect translation. This didn't bother Tubbo though since he was concentrated on highlighting every vowel in a random passage of text.

The classroom door opening interrupted Tommy's current Romanian translation. A boy with two-toned hair, dyed black and white, walked into the classroom. Tommy guessed that the boy looked unphased about being late; he had to guess since the guy's face was hidden. He wore a face mask and sunglasses. Though, Tommy was more concerned about how the guy had to duck to get through the door in the first place.

Miss Allingham sighed as if this was a common occurrence.

"I got lost on the way back from the AstroTurf," the boy with a deep American voice said. Great, another fucking American.

"Ranboo you've been in this school for four years, how did you get lost?"

"I have memory problems."

"Yes, and that's obvious in your classwork." Tommy grimaced, as much as he hated Americans, that was uncalled for. "Sit down."

Ranboo sat down at the same table as Tommy and Tubbo, greeting Tubbo with a nod. So this was the guy Tubbo told him about yesterday, the pussy who cried over video games.

"So did you sacrifice Chloe or the town?" Tommy asked, beaming as Ranboo gaped at him—again, Tommy assumed this (the mask covered his mouth).

"I don't even know your name, but I will punt you."

"Hi, I'm Tommy and I don't cry over video games."

"I'm Ranboo and you've made me emotionally unstable at ten o'clock in the morning."

Tubbo stifled a laugh at their interaction then promptly went back to his highlighting.

Tommy, wanting to understand the enigma of this guy, asked, "Why do you wear the mask and glasses?"