Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Okay everyone, from the top!” Hailey shouts.

The track for ‘Starlight’ starts playing from Sean’s laptop in full blast.

Milly nods in coordination with Sean and strums her guitar, leading to a practiced harmony that fills the music clubroom.

Every member of Maxxed out has their own reaction.

Titular main vocalist, Max, leans forward from his previously lax sitting posture, lifting his hanging arm from behind his chair to pin their weight on his knees and clasp his hands to his face in focus.

Damien raises his brows, impressed. He feels a nudge on his arm and it’s Jaime.

She has the most excited— as excited as it can possibly be anyway —grin on her face that Damien’s ever seen, and she mouths, “They’re not half bad, eh?”

Damien just shrugs. Jamie elbows him three more times after, silently giggling.

The music quiets down to a stop.

Jake is the first to perk up. “So what do you think?”

Jaime and Damien look to their unmoving vocalist. A hard shove to his shoulder takes Max out of his super-focused state with a yelp and a betrayed “Ow?”.

“Pretty damn cool alright. It’s no wonder you guys won” The perpetrator, Jaime, starts, pointedly ignoring Max’s glare.

Damien nods and very helpfully adds, “What she said.” A creak from Max’s plastic chair and a few particularly loud coughs successfully garners everyone’s attention.

“You guys are awesome.” He exclaims with flailing arms.

Milly looks to Sean for approval, beaming. Sean, of course, returns the smile. She swings her arm in a silent Yes!.

Zander and Luke are quick to get in each other’s personal space and exchange soft glances (it was Luke who went to Zander).

As Zander’s occupied, Hailey pats Jake’s back, whispering, “That was almost as good as we did on stage.” It earns her an eye roll.

Those flailing arms of Max then land on Jake’s shoulders in a tight grip.

“Jake, how did you train everyone to be so in sync? None of you missed a beat,” Max muses.

Jake’s pained smirk transforms into a proud one.

As he’s trying to pry off Max’s grip, he answers, “Actually…”

Jake jerks his head towards Hailey.

He doesn't elaborate. Before Max can ask him to keep going, Hailey continues.

“I’m the club leader. I’m in charge of pretty much everything, including what you said, training.”

Max finally lets go of Jake, taking Hailey’s hands in his instead. Zander shoots him a glare that gets promptly ignored.

“Sorry, Hailey was it?” He lifts her hands higher. “Teach me your ways.”

Hailey buffers.

Damien pulls Max away by the collar of his jacket, enough to make Max lose hold of Hailey’s hands. “Sorry about him,” Jaime says, leaning next to a flailing Max.

It snaps Hailey back to reality, and she quickly shoots Jaime’s apology down with, “Oh, no, it’s fine.”

Damien raises a brow. “It’s not fine. You don't have to cover for him, he can't keep getting away with harassing everyone.”

“I was not!” Max denies, still flailing. Like a cat that got picked up against its will.

Hailey snorts at the image of that.

“No, seriously, I’d love to,” She admits. “…If you guys are coming again anytime soon?”

Thanks to Hailey, Max regains autonomy over his body. He dusts off his jacket in an attempt to readjust the crooked parts, fails, but wastes no time to put on his signature smirk. It’s oddly familiar.

“Of course,” He confidently assures. Jaime and Damien exchange an agreeing smile behind him.

No one but Max sees Jake’s relieved smile, because within a blink it's gone and replaced with a blank expression.

The guy is suddenly in a panic, patting his clothes and glancing around.

Before Max can ask, Sean beats him to it, going, “Jake, what’s wrong?”

“My phone,” Jake answers. “Where’s my phone?”

He’s panting and gasping as he moves to every corner of the clubroom, checking every nook and cranny as best as one can manage in a hurry.

Milly pipes up, “Dude, chill, we all gave our phones to Hailey, remember?”

Jake’s head snaps towards Hailey. She flinches, taken aback by the look in his eyes.

She scrambles for the guitar case sitting beside the door and holds out a phone.

“Here, geez,” she says like it's casual, but the tremble in her voice betrays her.

Jake snatches his phone from her grasp.

He immediately starts typing away, then stops for a moment just to say, “Sorry. I really need to go.”

And it’s weird, because he doesn't even take his things with him.

Everyone in the clubroom exchanges looks of confusion.

“Hey, watch it!” A voice echoes from the halls.

Then the next minute, Jake’s back and standing with one arm resting on the doorframe, his phone off and held low in the other.

“Guys, I’m so, so, sorry, that was weird. I’m acting weird,” He rattles off.

Instinctively, Zander finds himself holding out a protective arm before Hailey, covering her.

Max can only throw a look at Jake, confused but heavily infused with concern.

Gradually, Jake breaks into a hysterical fit. “Why am I acting so weird?”

Nobody laughs with him.

Zander takes charge. “Jake, go home.” A collection of nods come from the rest in agreement.

The order makes Jake drop his shoulders, seemingly dejected.

“Okay,” is all he mutters.

The moment he leaves— not forgetting his things this time —the clubroom breaks into chatter, all of which sharing one thing in common; What the hell was that about?

~~~~

Jake doesn't call Drew again.

As much as it threw him off earlier, Drew can't help but hope that Jake would.

He looks at his lock screen, full of notifications. One of which is a photo from Henry, sent in their group chat.

The one with him, Liam, and Henry himself (there was never a fourth member, what are you talking about?).

His eyes flick up.

The other two are from Jake. A preview of his message shows; “hey can we talk?” followed by “please”.

Then sat the missed call above it all.

Drew swipes them away. Maybe he’ll forget they were ever there.

He exhales a long sigh, his car seat squeaking from his weight as he runs a hand through his hair.

He looks down at his now dim phone screen.

His reflection stares back at him. His hair’s tousled, his hoodie’s crooked, and he’s making a totally ridiculous expression.

A new message lights up his phone screen. It’s in the group chat, from Henry.

You have 4 new message(s)!

Dromies 16:26

Henry: wya?? dont forget ur our ride

Drew glazes over the text about two or three times before he taps it open and types away a reply.

He switches off his phone, remembers to actually mute it and chucks it away into his side door compartment, stifling a snort.

For a moment his chest feels lighter.

With a click and a twist the engine revs and he’s finally out of the damn mall basement.

~~~~

Zander slams his locker shut.

A gentle hand squeezes his shoulder. It’s Luke. He looks worried.

Next to him, Hailey’s hanging her head low, mindlessly flicking a finger through the pages of her songbook, clutched tight to her chest.

He sighs and starts walking.

Luke trails to his side, glancing back to an unmoving Hailey and slows to a stop.

“Hailey?” He calls. Zander notices the empty spot next to him and promptly turns around, standing still.

Hailey doesn't look up.

“Hello, Earth to Hailey?” Zander tries too. He fails.

Him and Luke exchange a concerned glance and nod. Luke goes.

Standing before her, Luke waves a hand within Hailey’s view. She blinks for a moment before flinching and tucking her songbook between one arm to softly swat away Luke’s hand with the other.

“Sorry, I zoned out, didn't I?” She apologizes.

Luke smiles, shaking his head. “It’s alright,” he dismisses, “do…you wanna talk about it?”

Hailey stares wide-eyed at him like he just brought up a taboo subject. In a way, it does feel like one.

“Not right now.” Hailey answers, darting her eyes at passing students. And Zander.

“Okay,” Luke turns to Zander, who gives him a look that says he's asking for reassurance.

Luke mouths, “Later,” and despite the way Zander’s eyes slightly widen for a split second, he doesn't pry and just nods.

The walk home is quiet.

~~~~

Drew paces outside his front door.

Apparently he’s been snitched on. By Liam. To his mom. How could you ditch your friends? I raised my son better than this.

Oh Liam’s absolutely getting the silent treatment tomorrow. No wait, scratch that, make it the entire rest of the week.

That’s right, including Thursday. He asked for it.

Henry on the other hand is under probation, but he’s on some real thin ice.

See, the thing is, Drew never brings the house key with him. Force of habit since there’s always someone home. And Can't risk your jealous peers potentially getting their grubby hands on it; they were a bunch of six year olds, Dad.

A rustle of leaves catches his attention and he shoots a glare at the poor innocent maid who’s just doing her job.

He doesn't break eye contact in hopes of intimidating her enough that she cracks under pressure and hands him a spare key.

What happens instead is she stashes the dead leaves into a giant trash bag and hurriedly scurries away— hands full with a rake in one and the leaf bag in the other —to the backyard. Mission failed. Wonderful.

A rattle of the doorknob for the tenth time bears no fruit except for a recording that plays from the bell ring speaker.

He groans before he even hears it.

It’s a pre-recorded audio of his mom’s voice, and she’s nagging him to, “Go back there and apologize to your friends!” and “Maybe use this chance to help out the maids for once,” which is totally stupid, because isn't that literally what maids are hired for in the first place?

He fights the urge to pull his hair out. His foot narrowly avoids the leaf mound in the middle of his front lawn when he realises mid-kick that he does not want to sweep up all of that.

Not that he would ever willingly do so, but his mom always finds a way. Always.

For a minute he stands before the leaf mound and genuinely considers doing his mom’s bidding. Mostly because yeah, it sounds easier, on the surface.

His knuckles whiten as his nails dig into his flesh. He could really use a stress ball.

A taxi passes by.

In a neighbourhood full of people that have their own personal drivers? That’s unusual.

Something tells him it’s Liam and Henry deciding they want to squeeze his wallet dry for revenge like they've ever successfully pulled that off.

Then again, the taxi would’ve just pulled up right outside his house if that somehow actually happens to be the case.

Another part of his mind wanders off to an hour ago, when he had wasted a ten dollar bill on that good for nothing waste of space of a product.

Then there's the fact that he got a call from him right after. Whatever sense he tries to make of it eludes him.

Drew stills.

Something. No, someone is peeking out the corner of his house gate.

The shadow formed by the pillar they're hiding behind obscures any important features that would stand out. Give them away.

Drew’s hand steadily reaches for his pocket.

But he stops when the figure steps into the sunlight, revealing themselves.

Himself.

He has that irresistible look in his eyes, the one he does when he's silently asking Drew to spoon during a sleepover and Drew gives in without a second thought, rolling his eyes as if it’s not a dream come true and he doesn't think about it every damn night.

The one and only Jake Sterling. Standing right outside his house and staring straight into Drew’s soul.

“What the hell?” Drew mutters under his breath.

Jake smiles in the distance like he knows something Drew doesn't. It makes Drew’s stomach whirl.

“Hey!” That sweet, honey-like voice pierces the air.

Shudder. Drew's almost glad there's no maid around to see how pathetic he probably looks right now.

Why on earth does Jake sound so eager to see him?

Jake’s hand rattles the gate as he’s waving his free arm up at Drew with a huge grin plastered on his face.

But Drew must be scowling because Jake slows down on the waving and his grin falters into a wry, sheepish smile as his head tilts to the side.

What’s he confused about? That Drew isn't running into his arms in relief at the sight of him? Right.

Drew storms forward with clenched fists.

He then grabs at the gate and it violently rattles, but Jake doesn't even flinch or let go of his hold.

“Hi,” Jake inhales, “how’ve you been?” He asks like he's not sure what he's saying himself. It earns a humorless laugh from Drew.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Drew growls, low.

He doesn't immediately get an answer. Jake lets go of the gate and smalls ever so slightly, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. Drew has to physically fight back the urge to reach out and hold him tight.

“I know this is super sudden,” Jake admits like it's not something both him and Drew are well aware of. Drew decides against nitpicking it.

“But,” Jake continues, “remember that group project we have?”

Drew’s glare sharpens.

Oh, of course, everyone has to bring that up today.

Drew desperately wants to make a scene; yell at Jake to scram and never come back. Emphasis on want.

He knows better.

“That doesn't explain why you chose to come all the way here.” Drew tries not to sound fed up.

Jake curls into himself even more and Drew can't remember the last time he's looked so pitiful. He doesn't want to remember.

“I want to apologize, for everything.” Jake starts, his eyes looking anywhere but in front of him. The tar road suddenly becomes super interesting to Drew as he’s subconsciously adjusting his wristwatch.

“And I want to make it up to you,” Jake adds, meeting Drew’s gaze, “starting here.”

Drew doesn’t get to respond before the creaking of metal redirects their attention as the gate between them begins to automatically slide open.

Jake backs up to avoid getting whacked by the moving gate while Drew snaps his gaze to his front door and sees exactly who he thought he’d see.

Mom. With the most annoying smirk plastered on her face.

Drew bites back a groan. That somehow makes his mom’s smirk grow even wider.

Behind him, Jake’s waving low and putting on a sheepish grin. Drew throws him a glare from the corner of his eye but Jake pointedly tries to ignore it and giggles with way too many awkward pauses in between.

The same maid from earlier speedwalks towards them, bows down, and takes Jake’s hand.

“Mrs. Cortez invites you to come inside,” she says with a polite smile.

God, the way Jake lights up and rapidly meets Drew’s, the maid’s, then Drew’s mom’s gaze upon hearing it.

In the distance, Mrs. Cortez simply smiles at Jake in return.

Then the maid lets go of Jake’s hand and turns to Drew, who swears her smile wobbled for a split second.

“She also says Sir Andrew can come in now.”

Drew’s eyebrows raise. His mouth gapes open for a second, closes, then he hums, pleasantly surprised.

When his eyes flick to the side, Jake’s beaming at him. Like he wasn't shaking in his boots five minutes ago.

“Come on,” Jake chirps.

There’s a tug on Drew’s wrist and he’s getting pulled away before he can react. The maid trails behind them as the gate creaks again until it slides shut.

Once they're on his porch Jake finally loosens his grip on Drew, who takes no time to pull his arm right back and massage his aching wrist.

…Jake pulled pretty hard.

Drew looks up and sees Jake take Mrs. Cortez’s hand, excitedly shake it as he spouts a thousand Thank Yous, then plant a polite kiss.

And if that isn't enough already, Mrs. Cortez goes in for a hug, squeezing him tight and patting his back before thanking him right back like he's done anything noteworthy these days.

Oh, she also congratulates him for winning the Student Band Competition.

Jake acts modest, shakes it off like it's nothing, and gives credit to the music club and no one else in particular.

Yeah sure, rub it in, Jake.

As if he notices Drew’s frankly quite obvious irritation, he quiets down and changes the subject, asking her mundane questions like “Has work been okay?” or “How’s Mr. Cortez?”

She of course happily answers regardless of the noticeable shift in the air. Classic mom.

Mid-answering she goes, “Oh!” and claps her hands.

“You sure know how to make a lady talk, I almost didn't notice I was keeping you!” She giggles. “Come in, come in,” she swings open the door and gestures inside.

Jake excitedly scuttles in Drew’s direction, passes by him, before putting both hands on Drew’s shoulders and just, stands there. Grinning. Like a dog waiting for his owner to start walking.

Drew of course swats Jake’s hands off and stomps his way into the house on his own.

He doesn't see Jake’s frown or how Jake never takes his eyes off of him the whole walk to the dining room.

Like, not even when Mrs. Cortez is talking to him.

Luckily for Jake, she stops initiating conversation halfway.