Chapter Text
Prompt: Yield
Oliver felt like he was being interrogated. He was supposed to be practicing for his upcoming national swimming championship today, diving in the cool water where he felt like he could do anything without gravity stopping him. Oliver loved being in the pool. The way he could navigate his way through the water with astonishing speed, the way the little droplets of water hit his body, the way he can only hear his own thoughts underwater, he loved anything about the pool, really. Oh how he wishes he could just ditch whatever he put himself into, and just make a run for the cool water on this sunny day.
Right now though, he was stuck in a classroom of a rich private school probably filled with pompous pricks that only get major bragging rights because of “daddy’s money” or something on a regular school day. But today, seeing that he had no academic extracurriculars, his mom forced him to do Model United Nations just for this summer. And it’s just Oliver’s nature that he didn’t spend any time preparing for this MUN shit at all; he thought he could just wing the entire conference and excel. Being terribly wrong about his assumptions, that’s how he landed himself into a situation where he ‘felt like he was being interrogated.’
He just finished a speech, speaking in complete shambles as he had no idea what the topic is, what he’s supposed to say, and everything else. Everything was a disaster so far, him saying “here” in roll call, him being called on by the Chair’s discretion, and his speech just now. It just seems that this weekend, he’d just have to absolutely humiliate himself because of the poor judgement he made a few weeks prior.
And forgetting what all the ‘How to Speak MUN’ phrases were, he only managed to stutter out a, “I yield my time to questions.” He’d soon regret this though, but for now, he just sees a curly red haired boy whose hand shoots up in a speed where Oliver swears was faster than a bullet train.
“Delegate of the UAE, you have been recognised,” the chair acknowledges the boy.
Giving the chair a small nod, the Red Head Boy (or that’s what Oliver decided to call him in his mind) stood up and replied with a solid, “Thank you, Chair.”
The Red Head Boy then started to ramble out words which Oliver assumed were supposed to be for a question, but he just zoned out soon after the boy opened his mouth to speak. He was only able to catch a few insignificant words like “the delegate” or “unrealistic” because oh god, Red Head Boy sure was pretty as hell. Red Head Boy had freckles that were sprinkled across his pale peach skin, his lips were a perfect pink colour that matched with the rosy hue of his cheeks, and his black round-framed glasses completed the absolutely cute looks that the boy had. His mind wandered to a show that his sister forced him to watch ages ago, where someone called a MUN kid an “Unfuckable Nerd” because of the word UN. He thought it was stupid, but it did manage to stick in his head and allow him to compose only 1 complete thought:
Who the hell said that MUN kids were “Unfuckable Nerds”?
By the time Oliver managed to get out of his thoughts, Red Head Boy was done rambling about who-knows-what, and was just staring at him waiting for an answer. Bloody hell, he’s even prettier when he’s just staring at me. Oliver, obviously unable to answer whatever question he was thrown, just quietly told Red Head Boy that he didn’t know the answer, and would get back to him later. He didn’t even know if ‘getting back to him later’ was an option, but hell, he definitely would, and might even add in his personal phone number along with the answer.
The chair told him that his time was up, and allowed Oliver to awkwardly shuffle back to his seat, hitting his foot on a few of the desks on his way. From his seat, he could see the right profile of Red Head Boy’s face from behind. He thought his face was cute, but somehow his neck was even cuter, and made him want to bite into the soft skin at the nape of his neck. Oliver quickly shook his thoughts from his head though, he was in an academic setting despite how much he hated to be there.
Oliver shifted his gaze from the boy to his desk, noticing a small stack of sticky notes. He recalled the chair saying that they were allowed to pass notes to other delegates using the sticky notes placed on their desks. This must be the one the chair was talking about. Oliver took a pen, and scribbled onto the note with his scrawny handwriting,
Hi UAE,
About the question earlier, I’ll get back to you tomorrow after I’ve done my research. But if you want to reach out before tomorrow’s session, here’s my number XXX-XXXX-XXXX ;)
Australia (or just call me Oliver, I don’t mind xx)
After writing this note, he was feeling unnaturally bold. I guess this is what seeing a pretty boy like him makes you do. Oliver just knew, that Read Head Boy and him, would definitely end up together. He shrugged to himself and reached out to the boy tapping on his shoulder, making the boy peer over his shoulder towards him. Oliver just smiled at him and handed him the note, earning him a small nod from the boy. The boy immediately opened the note and read through it. He immediately furrowed his eyebrows and held an expression of disapproval, probably from the last flirty bit that Oliver (shouldn't have) wrote. Oliver started to become slightly worried, about whether he just destroyed the possibilities of ending up with Red Head Boy, but soon discarded the thought. He saw the boy's ears turn a bright shade of pink, just like the pretty colour of his cheeks, spreading down towards his neck. He's blushing. Oliver took that as a sign of victory, smiling like an idiot to himself, forgetting the fact that he made a huge fool out of himself with his speech just 15 minutes ago. Maybe, just maybe, he could get Red Head Boy to be interested in him.
And all of a sudden, he didn’t think being stuck here was too bad.