#íþróttaálfurinn
Dancing
/Singingand Canned Fruit (Íþró /Robbie)!The return of the useless gays! Enjoy!
“Teach me to dance.”
The words fall out of Íþróttaálfurinn’s mouth before the thought can fully form in is mind. Robbie stares at him, eyebrows up, and Íþró wonders if Robbie can see right through him.
“Why?” Robbie asks after a pause.
Íþró shrugs, trying to sound as causal as possible over his rapidly beating heart. “I do not know how. Bessie and Milford are getting married tomorrow. There will be dancing at their reception.”
Robbie blinks owlishly. “How can you, the King of Moving, not know how to dance?”
“I do not know how to dance with someone. Can you help out me or not?”
Oops I’m late! Oh well. Here’s Day #1: Plants/Gardening.
Alternate prompt: The start of something wonderful :P——————————————————–
The soon-to-be class garden was coming along well. Though not yet in the designated garden space waiting outside, the children had been caring for their little seedlings dutifully every day. They checked on them in the morning when they arrived to school and once again before heading home at the end of the day. One little boy, Íþrótta, was particularly excited about the project. He doted on his sprouts as though they were his children, and he took incredible joy in seeing their slow but sure progress every day.
“It’s like he uses magic on ‘em or somethin’,” one of the other children grumbled under his breath as he gathered up his things to go home.
The boy, Glanni, was probably the only student in the class who did not care for their gardening project. The entire thing felt like just too much work for, in his mind, a worthless payoff. Glanni had only been doing the bare minimum to try and keep his plants alive just so the teacher wouldn’t scold him. Which was why, watching the other boy tend to his seedlings day after day, Glanni just couldn’t understand why Íþrótta was so engaged in taking care of the stupid things. They were just dumb plants.
Even so, Glanni couldn’t deny the attention that Íþrótta’s sprouts seemed to generate. Their classmates marveled at his work and asked for tips, and the teacher praised the child’s green thumb. No one ever complimented anything Glanni did. Usually he just got in trouble or, worse, was left forgotten and ignored altogether. It wasn’t fair. Just because Íþrótta was a plant-obsessed weirdo didn’t mean he deserved all the attention.
He watched as his classmate finally turned away from his precious little seedlings to grab his backpack to head home. Glanni glared a hole into the back of the blond’s head as Íþrótta skipped out the door to greet whatever parental figure was probably waiting for him.
Glanni stuck his tongue out after his classmate before taking a quick glance around the room to make sure the teacher was busy helping someone else get ready to leave. He reached into his backpack, fishing around for a moment before slyly pulling out the small bottle of contraband soda. Careful to keep it out of view, Glanni crept over to the row of little boxes basking in the sunlight by the window.
“See if stupid Íþrótta has such a green thumb if his plants drink this,” he hissed quietly, tipping the bottle and letting the sugary drink sink into the soil.
The sound of his teacher’s voice out in the hallway made him pull back quickly, a few drops of soda sprinkling over the shelf before he quickly recapped the bottle and stowed it away and out of sight. With a confident smirk. Glanni slung his bag over his shoulder and scampered out of the room.
*****
The next morning, Glanni walked in to find a small cluster of his classmates huddled by the temporary garden. He smiled to himself, strolling over to reap the rewards of yesterday’s mischief. He gleefully imagined what Íþrótta’s face would look like upon seeing his sprouts…shock, awe, anger, disbelief. Any of them would have been hilarious to see. What he had not expected to find, though, was Íþrótta’s look of utter devastation.
The little blond boy stared at the shriveled, wilted plants with wet eyes, his chin quivering as he held out his hands toward the discolored seedlings as though he was trying to figure out some way to help them. A soft whimper escaped the child’s throat as he stood there, oblivious to the small crowd that had grown around him.
Glanni scratched the back of his neck, suddenly not feeling near as excited as he had moments ago. He heard the teacher approach and offer soft words of condolences, but they just seemed to make things worse. The dark-haired back cringed as Íþrótta began to sniffle, new tears sliding down the already-present tracks on his cheeks. Glanni chewed the inside of his cheek and sluggishly obeyed their teacher’s instruction for everyone to return to their seats. Íþrótta didn’t, and Glanni couldn’t help but stare as the teacher ushered him toward the classroom door and out into the hallway.
He spared the dead seedlings another glance, the tiny things no longer green and vibrant, but mere darkened husks sticking out of the dirt. He had done that. Glanni had hoped to teach Íþrótta a lesson, but for what? He had only wanted to knock down the boy’s pride down a bit, right? He hadn’t meant to…to destroy him. Just because he wanted to cause a little bit of mischief didn’t mean he had wanted to hurt anyone, even a goodie two-shoes like Íþrótta.
Glanni looked up when the other boy came back into the room. Íþrótta’s eyes were red and puffy, and the usual pep in his step—usually his most defining trait—was completely gone. Glanni watched him slide into his seat and stare at his desk as their teacher began her lessons for the day, but he didn’t hear a word. He was pretty sure Íþrótta wasn’t listening either.
Although Glanni rarely paid much attention in class, today was different. He had really screwed up and needed to fix it. With another glance over at the seedlings by the window, he started to come up with a plan to do just that. It wasn’t a very good one, but he felt so rotten after seeing how much he had hurt the other boy, Glanni knew that he had to try.
Recess somehow managed to take even longer than usual to arrive that day, which was definitely saying something as far as Glanni was concerned. He normally stayed behind, never one to be too keen on running around the playground to get messy and made fun of for being bad at sports, so when Glanni hung back while all the other children made a mad dash for the door, his teacher thought nothing of it.
He grabbed Íþrótta’s box of sad, wilted plants, tucked it under his arm, and hurried toward the back of the room, swiping a second box from the sill along the way. He set up shop out of sight in the corner, determined to make this work whether or not his teacher decided to come back inside before recess was finished or not. Glanni dug out the seedlings he had destroyed, tossing them and much of the contaminated soil in the nearby garbage can. He then, carefully, selected and transplanted the best-looking plants from the second box into the first. In direct competition of how he had always treated his project plants before today, Glanni picked up each of the little sprouts with the utmost care, determined not to damage a single root or leaf at any time during the process.
He worked quickly, and the scruffy-haired child finished just in time. No sooner had he set the boxes back in their places and tucked a slip of paper next to Íþrótta’s partially restored crop than the first of the children began to file back into the room. He hurried to his chair and sprawled across his desk in an attempt to look like he may have been taking a nap in lieu of going out to play with everyone else. Íþrótta soon followed the rest of their classmates, looking as dejected as he had that morning. Glanni held his breath as he watched the other boy’s movements, biting his lip when Íþrótta came to a stand-still upon seeing the line of plants by the window. Glanni buried his face into his arms to hide his smile as he watched an amazed, toothy grin spread over the other little boy’s face. He looked away, forcing himself to ignore Íþrótta from that point on. He didn’t dare give himself away.
The rest of the day was a bore, and Glanni spent most of the time doodling in his notebook instead of paying attention to their lessons. The end of the day eventually came and, like clockwork, Íþrótta went over to tend to his plants. His new plants. Glanni tried to ignore the boy as best he could, though he did end up sneaking a few quick glances out of the corner of his eye as he gathered up his things.
“Glanni?”
The child jumped, yelping at the sound of a suddenly too-close Íþrótta who had walked up behind him. He spun around with wide eyes.
“What?” he demanded a bit sharply, if only from momentary panic.
Íþrótta took a step back to give his classmate some space. He swallowed, wringing something in his hands a moment before speaking up again. “I…wanted to say thank you.”
The mischief-maker frowned. “F-for what?”
The blond boy offered a soft smile and held out the small note to his peer. Glanni didn’t need to look at it to know what it said, written in messy, angular handwriting. Sorry I killed your plants.
“For giving me some of your plants.”
Glanni’s heart dropped into his stomach, and his face paled to reflect it. Íþrótta just stood there with that same, warm expression.
“I didn’t—I mean! Uh…” The child’s mind scrambled to try and come up with a believable deflection. “What are you talking about?”
Íþrótta gave a brief look back toward all of the little boxes at the window. “Yours is the only box that’s missing anything.”
Glanni let out a small squeak, eyes immediately widening at his obvious oversight.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Íþrótta continued. “I…don’t know why you did it in the first place, but…thanks for sharing your plants with me.”
The trouble-maker shrugged and looked away, unsure how to react to his classmate’s attitude. This was supposed to be where Glanni got yelled out, ratted out, maybe even hit. Instead, Íþrótta just seemed…happy.
“You…wanna be friends?”
Frowning again, Glanni looked back to Íþrótta, completely puzzled. “What?”
“Do you want to be friends?” Íþrótta repeated. “I know you get in trouble a lot, but…that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends together. Right?”
Glanni stared at the strange, blond boy. Friends? Glanni had never had a friend before. A friend might be…nice. Though he knew he shouldn’t, the little boy found himself nodding. The smile that spread across Íþrótta’s face made a strange warmth bloom in his chest and, despite himself, Glanni couldn’t help but find himself also smiling at the prospect.
“…Okay.”
Íþrótta laughed, jumping and happily spinning at the news, his usual energy back to normal. “Great! Friends, then!”
Íþrótta held out his hand and Glanni found himself taking it, getting up from his desk.
“S-sorry my plants are kind of stinky…I didn’t take very good care of them.”
“That’s okay!” his new friend assured him. “We can take care of them together so they can grow and they’ll get better in no time!”
Glanni smiled. Yeah…better in no time. Maybe gardening was worth something after all.
