runtowardsomething | (no subject)

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viktor hargreeves

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Since starting to work for Bill last winter, Beverly has found herself spending a lot of time on campus at Barton. It feels a little weird, since she's not actually a student here, but mostly that's just in her head anyway. She blends in easily enough, surrounded by people who tend to be close to her age, and on the rare occasion anyone does ask questions, it's simple to just explain that she's a teacher's personal assistant and leave it at that. That's under normal circumstances, though. A student-faculty start of the year mixer is a different story, seeing as she's neither student nor faculty. She's just sort of Barton adjacent, and if she sometimes gets in her head about the fact that most of her friends have gone or are going to college and she isn't, not having any pressure to do so helps her set that aside. She doesn't know what the hell she would do if she did, anyway, and right now, she likes things the way they are.

She just, in all honesty, also likes free food. And for the most part, it's as easy to go unnoticed at an event like this as it would be on a typical day of classes. That's pretty much what she expects to happen, a shortsighted assumption on her part when the point of a mixer is for people to, well, mix.

Which is how she winds up at a snack table, intent on filling her plate with hors d'oeuvres, cornered by a professor from the math department asking about what she intends to major in. Fairly certain that she's not actually supposed to be here, and likewise confident that no one would mind too much but not wanting to take that chance, she draws a blank on how to respond, and winds up stuffing a crab puff into her mouth as if she'd been about to do so anyway. She winces apologetically then, idly gesturing toward her face as if to indicate that she needs a few moments before she answers, just hoping that by the time she manages to chew and swallow, she'll have figured out what to say.

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As the fall term begins, Viktor can't help but reflect on his time teaching back home. He liked tutoring kids better than being a professor to private school young adults. In general, children are more forgiving, less harsh, more flexible.

But the college head-hunted him hard, and Viktor isn't sure what to do with himself these days. He never imagined feeling fulfilled. Though having a life he wanted doesn't resemble what he might have expected, it's undeniable he's landed himself a future worth living.

It can't be all work, he thinks as he greets a person he knew from Darrow-at-large and didn't know what an English professor. It makes sense. He has a lot of punny shirts about it.

The domino effect happens: English Professor wants to introduce Viktor to Math Professor, who appears to be taking at a girl enjoying a crab cake. Viktor apologizes for interrupting. He's not sure that's what one could call it, as the girl was in no place to respond.

"Viktor." He adds quickly, "Hargreeves." Even though the name carries no real baggage in Darrow, he'd spent a lifetime omitting it for as long as possible. As a professor again, it's necessary. "I'm the new music professor."

The intro is brief. Math Professor seems to lose interest -- perhaps a logic puzzle called to him from across the room. English Professor shrugs, nod to them both, and goes off to find a new social encounter to wash out the bad taste of this previous one.

"Fuck you, too, I guess," Viktor mutters of the wayward Math Professor to the poor girl who saw it all.

It probably shouldn't be funny, but it's all Beverly can do not to choke on the oversized mouthful of crab she's currently chewing at how abruptly the encounter ends. Really, though, it's part amusement and part relief. While she knows that it wouldn't likely be a particularly big deal for her to be here despite being neither student nor faculty, it would still be an awkward conversation that she would rather avoid.

She doesn't know this music professor, Viktor, but given his response to being essentially brushed off, she gets the sense that he might be more understanding of her predicament. And if not, well, she can grab a plate of hors d'oeuvres and make her exit.

"Oh, my god, thank you," she says once she's swallowed, letting out a breathless, relieved laugh. "Total dick move on his part, but I did not know how to get out of answering his questions."

There are many reasons this girl wouldn't want the company of that man. Viktor assumes he was a creep. It occurs to him that she might not be a student, but he has no dog in that fight. They're all stuck in Darrow where the money never stops. Who cares if this girl eats their appetizers?

"It's a good thing he saved us the trouble, then," Viktor concludes with a soft smile. "Stuffing food in your mouth was a genius move. I'm gonna have to remember that for the next mixer."

"I panicked," Beverly admits, though she's far more at ease now, her voice still lilting with amusement. There's a weird of relief in it, actually — being able to freak out about something entirely inconsequential, with no stakes. The worst thing that could happen here is she gets found out and asked to leave, and that isn't even guaranteed. She is faculty-adjacent, after all, and there's plenty of food.

The professor she's talking to now seems far less likely to make a big deal of it than that math douchebag, at least. "It's pretty good, too. The crab."

Viktor looks in the direction of the food table. It's stacked. Viktor is suitably impressed.

"Not a bad spread for a campus-wide event. Where I come from they saved the real crab for the donors."

Not that Viktor ever went out of his way to eat anywhere, then. Both in fear and in awe of being percieved, Viktor never found much occasion to step into the spotlight.

"What do you do here?"

It's a better question than what's your major, one Beverly can answer without lying or feeling the need to stuff more hors d'oeuvres in her face. "Personal assistant to an English professor," she explains, pausing to take a much more normal-sized bite of food. "Which is why I couldn't answer what my major is. Kind of need to go here to have one of those."

She's thought about it, but the way she sees it, it's probably better not to commit to something when she doesn't have the first idea what she would want to do. The way things are now works well for her. She doesn't see any need to change that.

"I'm Beverly, by the way."

Edited 2023-09-01 01:27 (UTC)

"Nice to meet you, Beverly." He smiles as he remembers what these events used to be like for him. Stammering, feeling dumb and far away, disconnected.

Now it's all crab balls and Engish TA's. Personal assistant, Beverly said. This poor girl was trying to dodge questions because she's not a student. There are plenty of employees on campus her age that aren't students. Did she really think that would matter?

"Walking away can be an effective strategy," Viktor suggests wryly. "It semed to work out fine for him."

"I think that was gonna be my next move," Beverly admits with a laugh, relieved that he seems to get it. Logically speaking, it shouldn't be a big deal. Even if she isn't a student or a faculty member, she spends a lot of her time on campus, works for a professor. Nothing about her presence here inherently draws undue attention. She just doesn't trust everyone on the staff here to see it the same way.

"Nice to meet you, too. You said you teach music? That's awesome."

"Just a few courses," Viktor says with a gentle smile. "Mostly music theory. It's my first year teaching here. Apparently there used to be a music professor, but one day he disappeared and they never replaced him." Anywhere else it would be odd. Not in Darrow.

They've been asking for years to Viktor's repeated refusal. He's not sure what made him do it this time. Maybe he regrets it already.

"Are you a writer?"

"Me? No," Beverly says, letting out a soft laugh as she shakes her head. "No, the writing's all Bill. But he was one of my best friends when we were growing up — long story — and I didn't really know what to do after I graduated high school, so he offered me a job. And now I hang out here and, sometimes, eat the free food."

It sometimes surprises her, even now, the life she's built here, the family she would do anything for, the job she actually enjoys. She still dreams at night about a future that ends very differently.

"On the bright side, I can blend right in. On the not so bright side, sometimes there are awkward assumptions that I'm a student here."

There's something familiar about this girl, a sort of far-away sadness Viktor can't help but recall in his own life. He gets the feeling she's used to feeling like she doesn't belong or isn't worthy. If she had the marigold, Viktor might be able to sense the healing in her, too.

All at once, he finds himself wishing she was a student. He wants to help her, and a professor helping a student is easier to access than some rando deciding they have a connection based on some kind of ghost of a hunch.

"You and me both," Viktor replies with a wry, half-smile.

"Yeah, not gonna lie, I don't think I would have guessed professor if you hadn't said so first," Beverly admits, her smile easy and relaxed. She's not sure what it is, really, his demeanor or just a youthful face, but she probably would have assumed he's a grad student had she not been told otherwise. She likes to think she wouldn't have gone so far as to ask his major without confirmation, though, if only because she wouldn't have wanted anyone to do the same of her.

"That's really cool, though. How'd you wind up teaching? If you don't mind me asking."

Viktor drops his gaze and laughs. It's not the worst thing, people thinking he's younger than he is. Especially (and unfortunately) because his partner looks so young. When they're out together, people probably wonder what these two children are doing having a classy dinner in smart sweaters.

"You know what they say," Viktor intones, "those who can't do teach." This is ancient logic from another time -- especially in Viktor's case. It turns out there was a very good reason he never seemed to connect with the music, that he couldn't break fifth chair to save his sad little life.

"Things are different now." He's happy to admit it, but not quite peaceful yet. There's got to be a reason he keeps so many jobs, but he hasn't quite allowed himself to examine it yet. "It's what I know, I guess. Kinda like working for an old friend." He smiles. When peace can't be found, there's often some in connecting with others.

"As opposed to literally working for an old friend," Beverly jokes with a wry smile, gesturing absently toward herself. It's a good way of putting it, though, one that makes sense to her. She never would have expected to wind up doing what she's doing; that's sort of how she started doing it in the first place. Had it not been Bill asking, it never would have occurred to her, and she definitely wouldn't have sought it out herself.

But she's happy. Bill is Bill, of course, one of the people she trusts most in this or any world. It gives her plenty of time to spend with the family she's built. The last thing she would ever have expected is to become a homebody, and she wouldn't really say that she has, still as outdoorsy as ever, but it feels good, coming home to Hopper and El every day. It feels safe. That's still new to her.

"Still, awesome. Does that mean you play music, too?"

"We all have to start somewhere," Viktor replies. Having a friend to help is a luxury. Viktor was invisible as a musician before he knew the truth. His last name got him a book deal, not any friend or professional acquaintance. Back when Viktor was trying for empty aspirations, he would have killed to have a friend to work for.

"Yeah, violin." Though these days he doesn't like it as much. He's a few days out from realizing Orchestra brings him about as much joy as low-grade headache after a migraine. He's happier when he's playing with Elio. "Not the most exciting instrument."

"Hey, more exciting than the little plastic keyboard I used to have in my room," Beverly laughs, shaking her head. It's probably a bad habit, thinking of what everyone does as more interesting than anything she's done, or maybe it's just the fact that she's never found that drive or passion for anything. Working for Bill has been a relief in a lot of ways, giving her something she can feel invested in while not having any idea what she would do with herself otherwise.

"I've always been sort of jealous of people who actually have, like, musical talent."

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