Chapter 4: Study Buddies… or Study Bullies?

CHAPTER FOUR: Study Buddies… or Study Bullies?

In which Elvis tries to pass his midterms, and his boyfriends try not to become his fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth stress symptoms.

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Monday, 3:35 PM — Library Study Room B

Elvis sat at the round table, face-down on an open textbook. His turquoise eyes were glassy, his white hair poofing in every direction, and a half-doodled dinosaur waved sadly from the margins of his notebook.

“I’m going to fail math,” he muttered into the paper.

“No, you won’t,” Lucas said firmly, placing a thick, laminated study schedule in front of him like a knight slamming down a sword. “Because I’ve made a plan.”

Thompson raised an eyebrow from the beanbag chair in the corner. “You made him a battle plan for algebra?”

Lucas smirked. “With bullet points, color-coded tabs, and rewards.”

Jake gasped. “There are rewards?”

“I only get them if I answer questions correctly,” Elvis whimpered.

“Which is why,” Lucas added, adjusting his glasses, “we’re starting with—”

A loud crash echoed through the room.

August, ever silent, had knocked over a stack of books while setting up Elvis’s “focus station”—a corner with a lavender-scented candle, ergonomic desk chair, a tower of flashcards, and a calming playlist titled “For My Sweet Angel”.

Jake appeared next to Elvis with a juice box.

“Want a snack? Want a hug? Want ten?”

“I want,” Elvis mumbled into the desk, “to delete school.”

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TUESDAY: TUTORING MADNESS

8:15 PM — Lucas’ Study Session

Lucas spoke like a motivational coach on espresso.

“Alright, sunshine—what’s the formula for calculating the hypotenuse?”

Elvis blinked. “Um. A² + B² \= C²?”

Lucas beamed. “Yes! Ten-minute break reward!”

Elvis reached for a gummy bear. Lucas slapped his hand.

“AFTER the diagram’s labeled.”

Thompson, watching from the couch, muttered, “Nerd love.”

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9:42 PM — Thompson’s “Shortcut” Method

“No offense, baby,” Thompson said, “but these biology terms? Trash. Just call them what they look like. See this? Mitochondria? That’s the power bean. Easy.”

“Power bean…” Elvis wrote it down.

“Exactly! Photosynthesis? That’s leaf magic. You’re welcome.”

Lucas walked in, saw the notes, and had a visible aneurysm.

“Power bean!?”

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WEDNESDAY: JAKE’S EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ACADEMY

Jake rolled across the floor in a blanket burrito.

“Look! Study time is fun!” he sang. “Here, snugglebug, write one sentence and I’ll do a happy dance!”

Elvis giggled. “Okay…”

He wrote “The cell is the basic unit of life.”

Jake exploded into a full victory dance that knocked over a lamp.

Thompson cackled. “He’s trying to teach through interpretive dance.”

“Shut up! My Elvy’s learning happiness!”

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THURSDAY: AUGUST’S SILENT TACTICS

August sat across from Elvis, sipping tea, holding up flashcards like a poker dealer.

He said nothing.

Elvis squinted. “...Organelles?”

August nodded.

“Lysosome?”

Nod.

Elvis smiled. “You’re like a hot human quiz app.”

Thompson and Jake made gagging noises in the background.

August gave them the finger without looking away from Elvis.

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FRIDAY: MELTDOWN

Elvis was curled under a blanket fort made of textbooks.

Jake offered cookies.

Lucas offered more worksheets.

Thompson offered to set the school on fire.

August offered to kidnap Elvis and take him to a cabin with no exams.

“I love you all,” Elvis said through tears, “but you’re driving me insane!”

Silence.

Then four simultaneous “I’m sorry”s.

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FRIDAY NIGHT: THE ELVIS STUDY PLAN

After a round of reluctant apologies and one very dramatic group hug (Jake cried), they sat down and made a new plan.

Lucas would provide short, digestible guides. No pressure.

Thompson could do the “fun renaming system”—but only during breaks.

Jake was on snack and motivation duty.

August would quiz Elvis calmly, with optional cuddle intervals.

And Elvis?

He actually started remembering things.

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SUNDAY: TEST DAY EVE

Elvis finished the last chapter of his math prep.

He stretched, flopped backward into Jake’s lap, and sighed. “I did it…”

Lucas grinned proudly and ruffled his hair. “Told you.”

Thompson leaned in. “So… does this mean you’re giving me a reward?”

“I got the highest quiz score!” Jake said. “I get kisses first!”

“You only got the highest because it was a snack quiz,” August muttered.

The chaos started again.

But this time, Elvis was smiling.

“I’m going to survive midterms,” he thought, watching them bicker around him, “and it’s all thanks to my ridiculous, perfect, insane boyfriends.”

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