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Chapter Text

Wrathion leaned back in his chair, putting his black boots on the table and pursing his lips as he scrolled aimlessly through his twitter feed. 

A young woman poked her head around the corner. "Wrathion?"

"Yeah?" He responded, not bothering to look up from his phone. 

"Your foster father is here." She opened the door.

Wrathion sighed. He turned his phone off and put it in his hoodie pocket, letting the chair legs slam back down to the floor before he stood. "Hey," he said, extending his hand to the man before him. "Name's Wrathion."

The man shook his hand. "Velen." His accent was thick.

"Interesting name," Wrathion remarked, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Thank you, I picked it myself." Velen smiled.

Wrathion couldn't keep himself from doing the same. "Hey, same here."

The young woman smiled. "You've got all your paperwork, sir?"

"Yes, I do," Velen replied. He turned back to Wrathion. "Are you ready?"

Wrathion shrugged. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"This looks homey," Wrathion remarked as he entered what was to be his bedroom. "Are those glow in the dark stars on the ceiling?"

"Ah, yes. Sorry about those. You can take them down if you want," Velen said, almost sheepish. "I mostly foster younger children. The last one was only ten. I was going to take them down for you, but I pulled a muscle in my back."

"No, it's okay." He tossed his duffel bag onto the floor by the bed. "They're kinda cool."

"I'm glad you think so." He started to leave. "You'll be here for a few days before you can start school, so feel free to make yourself at home. The wifi password is just my name if you need it. The network's name is Exodus."

"Thanks."

The door was closed behind him. Wrathion took a moment to inspect the room. The bed had a few pillows and a plain red comforter, but there was a chest at the foot of the bed with more blankets inside of varying colours, materials, and thickness. There were books on the shelves, fantasy classics among them, along with a few by Ray Bradbury, and bins of picture books and simple novels on the lower shelves where kids could easily reach them. The dresser drawers were empty, save for some socks, a small pile of nearly-folded t-shirts that were about his size, but probably looked like tunics and dresses on the kids who'd worn them. And he could tell that they had, too, since every one had at least one brightly-coloured stain. Velen had already told him he would buy him some new clothes, though, so he wasn't worried. There was some costume jewellery in a box under the bed, all obviously plastic and hopelessly tacky, but a big, golden hoop earring caught his eye, so he pulled it out and put it on the dresser to ask Velen about later. There was a closet, too, filled mostly with board games and toys, along with a couple of DVDs and— wait, were those really VHS tapes? Who even owns VHS tapes? Wrathion shook his head with a smile and looked through the desk. The drawers were filled with art supplies; paper, pencils, pens, markers, paints, brushes, and an old folder of drawings from kids Velen had fostered in the past. Most of them were pretty bad, having been drawn by little kids and all, but some of them actually looked like him, which was more than he could manage. There were a couple of chargers for various phones in a basket, which Wrathion was thankful for, since his was falling apart. He plugged in his phone to charge and entered the password, sitting down at the desk to go back to scrolling through his twitter feed.

my new place is p cool so far.. i'll keep u losers posted 

Chapter Text

Anduin fumbled for a moment, grabbing blindly for the case of his glasses on his bedside table and putting them on his face. He flopped over to one side and retrieved his crutches from where they were leaning against the wall. Squinting, he used the ends to pull one of his binders out of his open dresser drawer, then brought it over to himself and slipped into it, taking a deep breath once it was on.

"Morning, Andy," Tiffin said as he entered the kitchen. 

"Mornin'," he mumbled in reply. Varian ruffled his hair as he passed and Anduin grumbled, leaning into the counter and shoving his glasses out of the way to rub his eyes. They slid down haphazardly, but he could see, and that was what mattered. He grabbed the box of pop tarts from where they were kept in the cabinet, put one in the toaster, and nibbled idly at the edges of the other.

"I heard Velen's foster son was going to start school today," Tiffin said offhandedly. 

"Oh yeah?" Varian got the milk from the fridge and poured some into his cereal.

"And this one is older than any of the others he's had. Around Anduin's age, I think he said."

Anduin looked up blearily when he heard his name. "Yeah?"

Tiffin smiled. "Velen's foster son is your age, hon."

"Oh. Cool." He went back to eating his pop tart.

"Did you sleep well?" Varian sat at the table.

Anduin nodded. He yelped in alarm when his food jumped out of the toaster, but quickly recovered and shoved the rest of the cold pop tart into his mouth so he could get started on the hot one. He sat at the table across from his father.

"Anduin, you need to have more than that," Tiffin said. "Get yourself a glass of milk."

"Can I put the milk in my coffee?"

She sighed. "Alright."

"Can you get it for me?"

She laughed. "Anduin, you're sixteen."

"And eating," he countered. "Please?"

"You're lucky I love you so much." She pulled another mug from the cabinet and put it under the coffee maker.

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"If you butter her up anymore, she may as well be bread," Varian commented. Tiffin laughed. Anduin stuck out his tongue.

Anduin tried to pay attention as Mr. Greymane prattled on about the reconstructive era, he really did, but it just got harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He took to doodling in his notebook in an attempt to stay awake. Just shitty scribbles, mostly, but eventually began to sketch more seriously and tuned out whatever it was that Greymane was saying until he heard the door open and someone walk in.

"This is room 212, right?"

"It is," Greymane replied. "What are you doing here so late?"

Anduin looked up. The boy who'd entered shrugged. "That's just how it is sometimes," he said casually.

Greymane huffed. "Class, this is Na-"

"No, nope, no," Wrathion interrupted, "uh, no. I don't use that name. It's Wrathion."

"Alright. This is Wrathion Pirani. Ahm, they . . . ?"

"He."

"He'll be joining our class for the foreseeable future. Wrathion, take a seat."

Anduin smiled and waved slightly, inviting the new boy to sit at the empty desk next to him. He did, of course, because it was very close and he didn't feel like scoping out the rest of the empty desks.

"Hey," Anduin said as Wrathion dropped his backpack to the floor and pulled out a notebook. "I like your name."

"Thanks," Wrathion said with a smile. His shoulders relaxed a bit. "I picked it myself." Fuck, he did not mean to say that to a complete stranger.

Anduin just laughed. "Same here. I'm Anduin."

"After the river in Lord of the Rings? Wrathion smiled. "You sound like a big nerd."

"Oh, and you're not for knowing that off the top of your head?"

"Fair point, fair point." Wrathion dug around in his bag for a moment. "Shit. Can I borrow a pencil?"

"Yeah, sure." Anduin pulled one of his far-too-many spares from his backpack and tossed it over.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Anduin didn't have much trouble finding Wrathion at lunch, seeing as how he was alone and the only kid wearing a turban. 

"Mind if I join you?"

Wrathion looked up from his phone and nodded, scooting over slightly, despite there already being plenty of room.

"How are you liking East King High?"

Wrathion shrugged. "It's not the worst school I've been to." He paused to think about it for a moment. "It's definitely in the top three."

"Wait, what? Dude, you're a sophomore, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"How have you already been to three high schools in two years?"

"I move around a lot." It wasn't really a lie. "And this is only my fourth, for the record."

"Damn." Anduin took a bite of his apple. "Oh wait," he swallowed as quickly as he could. "You're Velen's foster son, aren't you?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"My parents are friends of his. Varian and Tiffin? They told me the kid he was matched with was my age. You're my age and brand new, so it only made sense."

"Oh."

"Yeah. He's a good guy. Kinda weird, but a sweet old dude. I usually babysit for him," he said with a smirk, "but I guess I'm out of a job now."

Wrathion laughed.

God, I'm gay.

Chapter Text

When Anduin rolled into English class a few days later in his chair, his right leg significantly shorter than his left, Wrathion was surprised, to say the least.

Although, it would be more accurate to say that he nearly had a panic attack.

"Dude, what the fuck," he hissed as Anduin kicked away the chair at the desk next to Wrathion.

"My prosthesis is in the shop," Anduin whispered back. "Don't worry, I'll probably have it back before the end of the week."

"Your what?"

Anduin kicked his leg (or rather, what was left of it) into the air. "The rest of this bad boy."

"Hey, sorry, excuse me, but if I may ask; what the fuck."

"What?"

"You never mentioned this before!"

"I assumed Velen told you!"

"Wrynn. Pirani." Ms. Wehbe had one hand on her hip. "Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

"No, ma'am," Anduin said.

"Good, because I'm not interested. Now pay attention. Both of you."

"Yes, ma'am."

The two were quiet as she continued to explain their assignment, but Wrathion couldn't concentrate. His eyes kept flitting back over to the sewed-shut pant leg ending a few inches below Anduin's knee. He grew restless as time went on, bouncing his legs, biting the insides of his cheeks, and picking at the skin around his fingernails, trying to keep his mind occupied. But it wasn't working.

Anduin slid a small piece of paper across his desk. Wrathion grabbed it as slyly as he could, not making eye contact and trying to look like he was still taking notes.

Are you ok?

Wrathion frowned. He pulled out his pencil.

ok? yes. freaked tf out? also yes

Understandable. I'll explain later.

you better, blondie! >:(

Wrathion stuck out his tongue as Anduin tried to contain his laughter.

"Fuckin' Tyrande, interrupting important conversations," Wrathion grumbled as the two of them sat together in study hall.

"Fuckin' Tyrande," Anduin agreed. He scribbled an equation in his notebook.

Wrathion drummed his hands on the table for a moment. "So, uh . . ." He gestured awkwardly to Anduin's . . . situation. "What, uh, what-what happened? To you? If I can, uh, if I can ask about that?"

"Hm?" Anduin looked up. "Oh, right. My leg. Duh." He slapped his forehead. "I was in a car accident a couple of years back."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty bad." He turned away and wiggled his pencil between two fingers. "The other guy ended up in a coma," he explained. "I'm lucky I only lost my leg. I mean, a broke a few bones, too, but I'm alive." He swallowed. "I try not to think about it too much."

"Oh." Wrathion shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. You were gonna find out eventually." He looked up at Wrathion again. "I'm kinda glad I told you. Now at least I know you know, so you're not gonna suddenly start walking on eggshells around me or something. I'm totally fine now."

Wrathion didn't really believe that, but he didn't say that.

"That's good," he said. "You must have a lot of upper body strength though, wheeling around and using crutches and shit."

Anduin laughed. "Yeah, you're right on that one. Feels good. Feels organic. Helps against dysphoria, y'know?"

Wrathion nodded. "Noted."

"Just don't go getting too beefy. It makes T injections hell. Just ask my dad." Anduin pretended to gag. 

"Coach Wrynn?"

"Who else in this town has that name?"

"No, I just . . ." Wrathion rubbed the back of his neck. "Wow."

"Wow is right. He's come a long way, even though he had to stop his hormone therapy for a while so he and my mom could have me." Anduin stuck his pencil's eraser between his teeth. "Hey, what did you get for number five?"

"X equals twenty-seven."

"What? I got x equals eleven."

"How the hell did you manage to do that?"

Anduin shrugged and made a confused noise. Wrathion couldn't help but smile.

oh no, he's cute