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Boothill was on top of the world.
Why wouldn't he be? He was coasting just above a passing grade in all his classes, excelling at practice, and above all he was popular on campus.
He can't walk anywhere on campus without bumping into someone wanting to hang out with him. He'll leave somewhere along, then arrive at his destination with a gaggle of friends in tow.
Girls want him, guys want him, and anyone who doesn't of course wants to be him.
So why, he mused to himself, aghast at the situation, is he being shut out of his dorm building right now?
“Come on! I’m a student here, motherfucker,” Boothill pleads, aggressively pounding a fist on the glass of the door. “I just left my ID in my room!”
He unsuccessfully trying to fight the frustration bubbling up inside him. He’s nearly pressed up against the glass, knowing not many other students will be coming and going from the dorm at this hour. The man standing inside the glass, watching him stoically is his only chance at getting in.
“Please, man,” Boothill breathes, placing a hand on his chest and shooting him his best hopeful smile, the same one he'd flash to make everyone give him his way.
Calculating, indigo eyes meet Boothill’s own steely ones silently. The student is wearing a stylish, light grey pullover and holds a cup of boba in one hand. He has earbuds stuck in each ear, and Boothill starts to wonder if the guy had heard a word he’s said. They both watch each other, unmoving, before suddenly the man takes a sip of his drink and turns on his heel, walking away.
“No!” Boothill slams and kicks on the glass, watching his tormentor disappear out of sight into the building. He lets out a guttural noise of despair. What was that guy’s deal? He was definitely going to be late to class now.
-----
“Oh, you mean Iso?”
“Who?”
“His name is Li Zhao Yu, but goes by ‘Iso’. Dark hair, pretty eyes— pretty face too if you ask me.” Aventurine swirls his spoon in the dining hall bowl. He sits alone at a picnic table with Boothill, far removed from the bustling dining area for a calmer atmosphere.
“That's definitely him. Add on that he's a major shitbag!” Boothill is fuming, having just been teased by the professor again at the end of class for his extreme tardiness. It hadn't been a big deal but it was humiliating to Boothill. Aventurine seems genuinely taken aback by his outburst.
“Woah, Iso is really nice. What's gotten into you?”
“‘Really nice?’” Boothill repeats back at Aven, sarcastic air quotes and all. He slams a fist on the table top. “Really nice people don't shut classmates out of buildings!”
“I’m sure he had his reasons. We're not supposed to open doors for anyone without a student ID after all,” his friend offers with a shrug.
“But I’m motherfucking Boothill! I’m me! Everyone knows me, my face should be a student ID.” Aventurine eyes his friend incredulously; his two-toned hair, unwavering confidence, and elevated style certainly won a lot of people over.
“But with an attitude like yours, who can really blame the guy?” The blond smiles cheekily. As Boothill’s oldest friend he's been around the block with him before. He'd charm everyone with his charisma then they'd suddenly keep their distance once they realized how childish and arrogant he was. He wonders when Boothill will finally be able to see how his brash comportment acted against his best interest.
Boothill grunts and stands up from the table deftly, stalking away from his friend without a word of ‘goodbye.’
Whatever. He didn't need the approval of one douchebag— even one that apparently had even a slimy guy like Aventurine by the balls.
Yeah, a douchebag. That's what Iso was. A real dickwad.
------
“Yeah, I’d be happy to help anytime. Don't worry about it,” Iso says with an easygoing smile and gentle voice.
The student he’s assisting nearly swoons in her seat, prompting Boothill to audibly scoff and roll his eyes.
Now that he's aware of Iso’s existence, he's seeing him everywhere. A TA in his evening class, in a lounge at the library, even in the gym when Boothill was working out. A bunch of excusable coincidences, except they weren't ‘coincidences’ at all. No, today Boothill was following the bane of his existence intentionally. He was going to catch him in the act of being the rude fucker he knew he really was.
“It’s my pleasure, sir,” Iso bows slightly to the elderly gentleman he helped cross the street, irritating Boothill to no end.
He dashes to tail Iso onto the commuter bus he boards, not paying any mind to the potential consequence of getting stranded wherever his target is going.
He just about screams in rage from his flimsy fold down seat on the bus when Iso gives up his own seat for a dad whose arms are full of groceries, insisting he or his kid take a seat for the ride.
The shuttle rocks suddenly, and Boothill would be lying if he said he didn't experience a twinge of pleasure watching the jerk lose his balance for a moment. As if feeling Boothill’s satisfied eyes on him, Iso suddenly shoots him a disinterested glance. The flick of his attention is brief, but it's enough to make Boothill’s blood run cold as being found out.
The shuttle doors open and a mix of passengers get on and off the bus. Iso remains so Boothill stays too, scanning the onboarders. His eyes lock on an old lady with a cane.
“You!” He shoots up from his seat, brandishing a pointed finger at the lady. She blinks at him wearily. “Sit down! Here! Now!”
She slowly follows Boothill’s demands and sits, not saying anything but smiling slightly. Boothill grins victoriously. He staggers harshly when the bus starts moving, and he steps to the nearest standing brace, holding the handle to steady himself.
“Do you need something?” Boothill snaps to the left, realizing that the free handle was right next to the one Iso is using. Oh great.
“Why would I need something?” Boothill spits out, perhaps a little too loudly for the cramped bus. Iso just puts his ear bud back in in response, staring out the door windows of the bus.
He gets off at the next stop and Boothill is quick to follow him. He has to race to catch up to him, passing through the mostly empty parking garage while purely focused on the back of Iso’s head.
All at once Iso whips around.
“Seriously, what do you want with me?” He hisses, frustration clear in his voice for the first time. He stares Boothill clear in the eye, unwavering. Boothill gulps before composing himself.
“I want to know what your deal is,” Boothill challenges, stepping forwards. Iso steps back without hesitation.
“Don't deflect this on me. You've been following around since this morning, all over campus and even into the city!” Iso accuses, not concealing his anger.
Boothill lets out a bark of laughter.
“See! I knew you were no saint! You're just as trashy as everyone else, maybe worse for what you did to me at the dorm the other day!” Iso narrows his eyes at Boothill’s triumphance. He keeps ranting, “You're a two-faced faker, manipulating people into liking you! I know your game!”
It's his turn to let out a laugh of disbelief before cursing in Chinese under his breath.
“I-” he starts, stopping immediately. “Is this really happening? You can't be serious.”
Boothill doesn't move, not responding.
Iso continues.
“You’re right. I’m not a saint,” Boothill’s grin widens and Iso powers on before he can interject, “But I’m not manipulating anyone. I'm polite to people because I want to be polite. I'm not trying to gain anything from them, they just like being treated with respect.”
“Then why didn't you let me in the other day? You're just a prick in disguise!” Boothill will not let him weasel his way out of admitting he's an asshole.
Iso crosses his arms, but he doesn't answer defensively.
“A prick to loud-mouthed idiots like you, maybe. I don't like you. And I don't have to put up with you if I don't like you. I owe you nothing,” Iso lists out matter-of-factly.
Boothill’s mouth hangs open in astonishment.
“What do you mean you don't like me?” The question is genuine on Boothill’s part. He’s gotten the sense that some people just put up with him, but no one had ever told him they simply hated his guts to his face before. Not even his exes.
“Because you're a rude asshole to everyone,” Iso’s tone is scalding. “And then you act like they'll kiss up to you afterwards just because you're attractive and talented. The infuriating thing is most people actually do.”
“You think I’m attractive and talented?” Boothill repeats, processing the information.
“Did you even listen-” Iso starts with a furious voice before stopping himself, controlling his temper meticulously. He lets his arms drop to his sides. “You know what? Whatever. Don't follow me anymore. I can't stand you.”
He turns on his heel, walking straight out the scene. Boothill watches him go, still dumbfounded at the exchange.
-------
From then on every time he saw Iso on campus, Boothill was snapped back to that parking garage exchange. He was bothered by it. And it wouldn't do for the mighty Boothill to be bothered by anything.
“It's called having a conscience,” Aventurine replies when he explains the nagging feeling in his chest. “You feel bad because you're finally realizing how shitty you truly treat everyone around you.”
Boothill cranks his head around to stare at the blonde man suspiciously.
“Why do you sound like you're having a good time watching me suffer?” His questions prompts a giggle from Aventurine. He drums his finger on the picnic table happily.
“It's amusing to witness your limited brain capacity attempting to reconcile this new epiphany,” he goads, knowing the weaknesses of his friend perhaps too well.
“My what?” Boothill is puzzled, trying to decipher Aven’s words.
“Never change, Boothill. Or do, if you're really hurting that badly from one guy's opinion on you.”
“That's it,” Boothill shoots up with a glint in his eye.
“Oh no,” Aventurine states, knowing any conclusion Boothill came up with that quickly couldn't be a reasonable one.
“If I feel this way just because of what he said, I’ll just have to change his mind! I’ll prove to the fucker that I’m better than he thinks!”
“That's your takeaway?” Aventurine asks in disbelief. Boothill, enthused, shakes him by the shoulder.
“Absolutely. I’m gonna show him I'm the most polite, loved mother-” Boothill stops himself from swearing, “'fudger' around!”
Boothill swings around, planting on foot on the bench and making his declaration bombastically.
“He won't be able to resist me!”