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Chapter Text

      You knew something was up at Kings Dominion. There is always something up at Kings Dominion, whether it’s some sick prank between the Legacies and the Rats, or some personal feud manifested in the form of life-threatening booby-traps or death threats in the form of paper airplanes being thrown around the classroom, but today everything was – off. Master Lin hadn’t made a single appearance, and Saya missed an AP Black Arts lesson: an almost unheard-of occasion. The Valedictorian and leader of the Kuroki Syndicate missed a lesson, an event that could potentially prevent her from getting a perfect mark. Something was off.

     Your questions of the day are finally answered as someone you’ve never seen before walks down the halls, fresh new textbooks in hand and absolutely every other student’s eyes on him. He stops at a locker a little way down the hall to your left and begins fiddling with the code. New kid. Not good news for him, not really great news for anyone, due to the disruptions the hazing causes. Being new at Kings Dominion is Hell, and you sympathize for the guy as you watch him pull out a doll with a knife in it, and a note saying ‘Child Killer’.

     So, the new kid has a rep – and a pretty vicious one at that. He doesn’t look like a child killer, soft brown eyes and floppy dark curls and all, but hey – if you’d learned one thing at this school, it’s that looks can be deceiving. As Petra sidles up to you and begins to put her books away, you grab your Poison textbook from your bag shove it in your locker. 

     “Been a while since we’ve had a new kid.” You remark, watching from the corner of your eye as Maria saunters up to him. Petra shrugs beside you, ever the chatterbox, and walks off in silence, leaving you alone at your locker to watch what unfolds – and as Maria rakes her eyes up and down him like a predator, and Chico shoulder-checks you on his way over to them, you get that chill up your spine that you always get when things are about to go sideways.

     Before you know it, Chico’s hand is around Maria’s throat and he has her pushed up against the wall of lockers. You slam your locker closed (maybe a little too aggressively), attracting his attention as you lock eyes with Maria. The new kid is still focused entirely on Chico, his back turned to you and his posture rigid with anger. 

      Unfortunately, Chico’s attention is still on you, and you can see the murderous intent brewing in his light eyes. It would be so easy to challenge him on his abusive tendencies, but who are you trying to fool - the absolute last thing you want is to start something with Soto Vatos… Not again. Maria shakes her head at you, as if reading your mind and telling you not to get involved, just as the new kid shoves Chico away from her.

     Your eyes widen as you begin to head towards them, for what ungodly reason you do not know. By the time you get there, though, one of the other Soto Vatos members has shoved the new kid, and Chico’s delivered a nasty sucker-punch to the gut. You make your way around the boys and grab Maria’s arm, fist wrapped around the handle of your pocket knife in your blazer lining, but she places a hand on your forearm. A warning – do not get involved. 

      You watch Chico pull his knife out, holding it to the kid’s face, and your temper flares again – flashes of the memory of your first few weeks at school, the torture that you went through, but most of all the agonizing burn that ensues a knife wound.

     You pull your knife out of the lining, still keeping it out of sight for now, as you watch Chico carefully with your jaw clenched. “You like Maria, huh?” He says, dangling the knife in front of the boy’s face before moving it to his throat. “Meet my other lady.”

     Your grip tightens around your knife, but before you get the chance to take any action Chico and his friend spot the Monk patrolling the halls. “Not here, man.” The friend warns, and Chico slowly lowers the knife while still staring down the new kid. Maria grips your arm, warning you to put your knife away, and you reluctantly tuck it back in your blazer as the other Soto Vatos member glares at you, a look you gladly return with a middle finger. 

     “Tonight, me and you are going on a date. Wear something nice. We’re gonna bury you in it.” Chico warns, stepping closer to the guy, and then grabs Billy’s drink as he passes and proceeds to pour it over the new kid’s head. You so want to punch Chico, but the bell rings and the Monk is still watching. Chico grabs Maria’s arm and leans down towards you, menacing glare in his eye as he notices your protective stance in front of her. “How about you stay out of other people’s business, amiga.” He warns, before turning and dragging Maria away as she mouths ‘sorry’.

      You watch the kid for a moment once Chico has left, watching Billy pick up his cup and offer a half-hearted salute before turning and heading to class, green hair disappearing about the corner. The kid stands, fuming, dark liquid dripping from his hair, before he slams his locker quite forcefully. You scrunch your face up, mentally debating the pros and cons of introducing yourself and possibly offer the comfort of a friendly face in a school so horribly hostile.

     The absolute last thing you should do is get involved with the new kid with a massive target on his back. You know that. Hell, everyone knows that. At Kings Dominion, emotions are a weakness. You show weakness, you end up dead. You associate with the wrong people, you end up dead. You’ve seen it happen. You’ve promised yourself to not get involved. So why does how one guy stands up to Chico for Maria give you the sudden urge to do both of those things?

     Damn it.

     You walk past him, notice how he’s still holding his stomach with somewhat labored breaths, and reminisce on the absolute breathlessness and burn that being punched in the gut brings about. It sucks, to be honest, and somehow knowing what he’s going through currently makes you stop just in front of him, turning to face him as he watches you warily, gaging for threat. 

      “Don’t mess with Chico.” You warn, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Chico’s full of alpha-male testosterone bullshit, but he’s dangerous.” 

     “He put his hands on her.” The new kid practically growls, and you give a half shrug.

     “I never said he wasn’t an abusive asshole. Just…” You sigh, thinking back to all the times you’d seen Chico mistreat Maria, or hurt other students who tried to be her friend or even look at her. “Watch out for him.” 

      He remains silent, still clutching his stomach as he stares down the hallway with anger in his eyes. He’s cute, you realize, and you notice the scar on his eyebrow just as the monk appears at the end of the hallway, and you take his silence as your cue to leave before you’re late for class and risk a detention.

     You adjust the strap of your bag, and wheel around, missing the look of confusion and intrigue he gives you as he watches you leave with furrowed brows. What the hell was that? You question yourself as you head down the hall, running a hand through your hair and sighing. Something about his reputation doesn’t match with him – sticking up for Maria, that little smile on his face, his soft brown eyes. 

      “Damn it.” You mutter.

Chapter Text

     Over the course of the rest of the day, you learn three things about the new kid from listening to other people gossip; his name is Marcus Lopez Arguello, he was homeless before coming to Kings Dominion, and he burnt down an orphanage, killing everyone inside. The last one is the only that surprises you – he has the mannerisms of someone used to looking out for himself, but an orphanage? He doesn’t seem the type.

     You see him for the first time since the hallway incident in Poison Lab. You hear a clatter and look over to see him talking to Viktor, his textbook on the floor, as Petra leans back and Billy drops something into Viktor’s drink. ‘Already involved in hijinks with the Rats’, you think, impressed at how quickly Marcus has gotten himself involved.

     When Marcus picks up his book and turns to face Billy – who is gleefully trying to stifle his laughter – his gaze moves over to where you sit, and the two of you make eye contact, enough to make your cheeks warm up slightly before you break it off and stare at the Professor as he begins speaking.

     “Name one common industrial poison, ideal for making a statement.” Mr. Denke asks the class, and you roll your eyes as Viktor’s hand shoots up.

     Almost grudgingly, Professor Denke calls on him, and Viktor smiles. “Sodium cyanide. Victim is dead is seconds.” His accent puts a heavy drawl on the words and you can’t help but shake your head as you look down at your book, unaware of Marcus watching you. 

     “You wanna make a statement. Strychnine leaves your victim contorted and convulsing for hours.” Petra drones, and you mouth the right answer at the same time as her, catching her eye and giving her a wink. You barely catch the tiny lift of the corners of her lips before she stifles the smile, but it still feels like a victory. 

     “Good, Petra.” Denke praises. “And why do we want it known that this wasn’t an accident.”

     “Poison delivers a clear message. No one is safe from you.” All the Rats’ eyes are on Viktor as he drinks from his soda can. “Anywhere.” 

     Billy might burst with how hard he’s trying not to laugh, and you press your lips together tightly as you wait for the inevitable horrors that follow.

     As Viktor attempts to flirt with Petra – something that has your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline at the same time as your hand goes for your pocket knife – you watch the poison take effect, grimacing as Viktor’s face blanches and he begins to sweat, standing up quickly.

     You try not to watch as Professor Denke forces him to sit and wait for the poison to take effect, a grimace on your face as his stomach gurgles uncomfortably, and the second the bell rings you’ve swung your bag over your shoulder and high-tailed it out of the classroom, Petra right next to you. 

     You decide to skip the canteen entirely and make your way up to the Graveyard with a bag of potato chips, settling on your usual outer wall spot as Petra pushes a tape into the player and music begins to fill the air. Lex arrives soon after, mocking some Prep for their “wanker Farah Fawcett hair”, and you throw your (almost) empty bag of chips at him.

     You laugh so hard you can’t breathe when he turns to face you, tiny potato chip crumbs scattered amidst the dark roots of his spiked hair, and you even earn a tiny snort from Petra. Somehow this divulges into a scheming session of how he was going to get you back for that, which leads into you tuning out as Petra and Lex argue about which types of explosive would work best.

     You’re perched on the graffitied wall surrounding the Graveyard, semi-listening to Petra explaining her master plan to kill baby boomers, semi-listening to the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ song, when the door swings open and out walks Billy and Marcus. 

     Billy jumps on the skylight, gesturing towards Marcus as he crouches down. “Petra, Lex, Y/N, meet Marcus, the new Rat.” You offer a small salute from where you sit when Billy says your name, meeting Marcus’ gaze for a moment before glancing away.

     “The Orphanage Killer? He’s gotta fight Chico.” Lex quips, breathing out smoke. “Looks like a proper asshole.”

     “Lex is head of the civility club.” Billy interjects, and you stifle a laugh.

     “Civility is just lying to people about your true feelings. Wanker.” You roll your eyes.

     “Not an affliction you suffer from.” Marcus retorts, and your eyebrows shoot up. Petra smiles, a small laugh escaping her mouth, increasing your growing fondness for Marcus incredibly.

      “Woah, extra credit for making Siouxie Sioux smile!” Billy congratulates. You hop off the wall, making your way over to the group as Lex opens his mouth again.

     “Smile? Hard to tell through all that makeup. How long does it take to paint that ghoulish sad clown face, Petra love?” You elbow him in the ribs, ignoring the glare he shoots you as you pluck the cigarette from his fingers instead and hold it out of his reach.

     “Fuck off, Lex.” You say, taking a drag, but your words are full of humor and hold no real malice as he shoots you a glare. 

     You tune out as Billy disputes the music currently playing, switching the cassette out for something more punk and less goth, and the Rats reminisce on the last new kid who came to Kings Dominion. You shudder as the memory of the body bag being carried past you in the halls resurfaces, unaware of Marcus’ gaze focused on you, intrigued by the far off look in your eyes.

     “Does that scare you, asshole?” You tune back in as Lex taunts him even more, always impressed by the consistency of his foul-mouthed retorts. 

     “Patchouli? Absolutely.” Marcus responds, and you laugh, impressed yet again by the ease at which Marcus finds a witty retort. 

     “Don’t listen to Lex, alright, you’ll be fine. Just gonna hang up here with us and the most awesome years of your life will fly by.” As Petra offers monotonous support, you hold out the cigarette towards Marcus, and he offers you a small smile as he plucks it from your fingers. 

     “You can even use this place to do some good!” Billy pipes up. “Change the world with a bullet as Lin loves to say.” You have to roll your eyes, having heard that particular saying all too many times since you’d joined the school.

     “I plan on changing a proper big bit of it.” Lex says, standing up and pulling out another cigarette. 

     “Here we go.” You mutter under your breath, earning a glance from Marcus as Lex begins his hit list, shooting his finger gun after every name.

     “Heads of state – blam. Bankers – blam. Oil executives–” 

     “Bono.” Billy cuts him off, and your lips twist into a small smile as Lex turns around with his ‘I’ll kill you’ face. “Don’t forget Bono.” Billy continues, unaffected.

     “What about it, new friend? What barbaric ambition inspires you?” Petra asks, voice monotonous as always but holding an additional level of interest, intrigued by the air of mystery that still surrounds the new kid.

   “I’m gonna kill the guy who ruined my life. I’m gonna assassinate Ronald Reagan.” His voice is full of conviction, deadly serious, and there’s a moment of stunned silence while his words sink in.

     Then, everyone laughs – except you. Marcus looks down at the floor, and you can tell just how serious he is. It’s not a joke to him, and you find your friends’ laughs abrasive and rude.

     “He said, he’s gonna kill the bloody giffer!” Lex mocks, and you scoff, leaning against the half-wall beside Petra.

     “Don’t be a dick, Lex.” You reprimand, but he just scrunches his face at you before Petra starts talking.

     “Better do it before your hot date with Chico, huh?” Petra comments, smile tugging at her black lips. 

     Marcus practically scoffs, grabbing your attention, waving his hand and standing up. “That guy’s all talk.”

     The atmosphere goes solemn pretty quickly, and as Petra glances over at you, suddenly become uncomfortable. You turn to Billy and hold out your hand, ignoring the roll of his eyes as he pulls out a cigarette and offers it to you.

     “The last bloke who looked at Maria was Chico’s cousin. Chico jammed a barbeque fork into his back. Left him a bloody paraplegic.” Lex warns, and you make your way past him to sit back on the wall surrounding the Graveyard, digging out your lighter as you will your hands not to shake.

     “Yeah but, the rules they… Prevent you from…” Marcus says, and you almost roll your eyes at the naivety as you light the cigarette. You can still remember when you’d joined and believed that everyone would follow the rules, that no harm could come to you if you just kept your head down and did the same. Little did you know. 

     “Chico doesn’t give a shit about rules man. He’s a butcher.” Petra adds, eyes subconsciously darting over to where you’ve retreated to, with your eyes firmly focused on the San Francisco skyline. Marcus follows her gaze with furrowed brows, which leads Lex to look at you too, unfortunately.

     “No joke.” Billy adds, oblivious to your discomfort, and Lex raises an eyebrow as he takes a drag from his cigarette and focuses his gaze on you.

     “His cousin wasn’t the first nor the last at the receiving end of Chico’s fury.”

     You can already tell where this is going, and you clench your jaw and focus on the graffiti covering the walls. “Drop it, Lex.” You warn, agitated, but the British kid never could keep his mouth shut.

     “I’m just saying that he should know who he’s going up against–”

     “I said drop it, Lex!” You shout. Your voice is like ice, and as you clench your fist to stop your hand shaking, you notice the silence that ensues your outburst.

     You can tell that he knows he’s gone too far when he doesn’t offer a clever retort, just clenches his jaw and refocuses on Marcus, who’s still staring over at you. 

     “Whatever.” He mutters, taking a long drag of his cigarette, and when you look back up you lock eyes with Petra, her eyebrow raised. There’s a hint of concern in her eyes, mixed with pity, and it’s unbearable.

     “Ready or not, after school today – one of you’s gonna die.” As Lex spooks Marcus, you reach down and grab your bag, swinging it over your shoulder and heading towards the door of the Graveyard.

     “Y/N–” Petra calls after you, but the door slams shut behind you before she can say anything else. 

      Back on the rooftop, the rest of the Rats glance at each other uneasily, and Lex holds his hands up in surrender as Petra jabs him with her elbow, dark lips pressed together as she gives him a look. At least he has the decency to look a little sheepish as Billy clears his throat, eyes darting between Marcus and the door.

     As the Rats begin to gather their things and head back to class, Marcus can’t help but dwell over the haunted look that hides in your eyes when death is mentioned – or when Chico is involved. He quirks an eyebrow, gaze resting on the closed door for a moment more before the thought of Chico kicks in again, and panic seizes him.

     You hear about the fight between Marcus and Chico in the bathroom, while you hide in the stall as two Soto Vatos girls swap gossip. Apparently, it was halted by Master Lin before it got too nasty (for Marcus, that is – Chico apparently got away relatively unscathed, the lucky ass) and Marcus was seen hightailing it out of the school, ‘hobo clothes and all’.

     The sense of relief you feel for him at hearing that Marcus got away from the school is undercut by a perplexing and honestly disconcerting feeling of sadness and loss. You’ve only just met the boy, and somehow the thought of never seeing him again hurts.

     At the Graveyard party, later that night, Petra can tell you’re affected by the loss of the Rat. While you’d normally be helping serve the moonshine, or messing with Lex and Billy, tonight you lean against a wall, slowly but steadily making your way through your second cup of what is essentially rubbing alcohol with only a slight grimace after each sip.

     The clashing punk music mixed with the din of students chatting makes for a steady background noise, as you watch Maria reappear through the gray door your eyes are so intently focused on, as if you could make him come back out of your pure selfish will.

    Sometimes, just sometimes, the universe is kind.

     Your eyes are about to wander away from the door when it cracks open, revealing a dark figure in school uniform. As Marcus approaches, you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as he makes eye contact with you, approaching steadily. He stops to say hi to Billy, who pinches Marcus’ ass like the child he is, before Marcus finally stops in front of you.

     “You came back.” It’s a statement, with an underlying question that neither of you know, but both of you have hidden hopes for its answer.

     “I came back.” His reply is short, but the smile he offers melts you at the spot and for just a second, you allow yourself to take a moment and look at his face, really look at it, mapping his scar and his smile and his soft dark eyes in the dim lighting of the party. The new cut on his nose, presumably from his fight with Chico, stands out against his tanned skin.

     You clear your throat after a second, reaching over and grabbing a red solo cup from a nearby table and holding it out to him. His fingers graze yours for a fraction of a second as he accepts the offering of moonshine, taking a deep swig and grimacing at the burn, and a laugh bubbles out from your chest.

     As the alcohol warms your chest, the heat slowly rising to your cheeks, you hold out your cup, and cock your head ever-so-slightly to the side. He lightly taps the rim of his plastic cup against yours; a cheers, a new friendship, a hint of something more to come.

     It isn’t long before the rest of the Rats come over and steal him away, with Lex even offering him a nod of solidarity. As Maria saunters over to him, a hand on his shoulder as they both laugh and chat with each other, the next time you look over you can’t even find it in you to feel jealous.

      Marcus isn’t looking at her, he’s looking at you.

Chapter Text

     The Graveyard is quiet at this time in the morning, with the rest of Kings Dominion fast asleep as the sun begins to crest over the buildings. You take a drag from your cigarette, looking over the edge of the rooftop to watch cars passing by and people begin their day. As the tranquility of early morning begins to fade into the bustle of a work day, you notice that you’re no longer alone as someone moves in your peripheral.

      You’re standing in the blink of an eye, hand pulling the pocket knife out from your blazer and holding it in front of you before you register the person’s face. “Jesus, Marcus.” You sigh, as you tuck the knife away and sit back down, picking up the cigarette again. 

      His eyes always seem calculating, and today is no different as he raises his eyebrows and gestures loosely to your blazer. “Are you always armed?” He asks, and you roll your eyes.

     “Have you met our classmates?” 

      He chuckles but stops as you get weirdly serious, the half-smile falling from your face. “You should really consider carrying one.” Your words are sharp but your tone is fond as you pass him the cigarette, leaning against the graffitied pillar as you let your eyes sweep over the skyline once again. 

      He remains silent, and when you turn back to look at him, your eyes fall on his scar, the dim lighting making it appear darker and more sinister over the curve of his cheekbone as the cigarette smoke passes over it in a wave. There are dark circles forming under his eyes, and he has a haunted look hiding behind every expression.

     You wonder whether it’s from his first few days at school, or something else keeping him awake at night. After a few moments, you look up to find his eyes on you, an eyebrow quirked. 

     “What.” You deadpan, ignoring the heat that begins to rise in your cheeks as he smiles slightly, passing you your cigarette back.

     “Like what you see?” He teases, and you push down the odd flutter in your stomach at the smirk that tugs the corners of his lips, and the playful look in his eyes.

    “Shut up.” You retort, grabbing the cigarette and rolling your eyes as he laughs.

    After the party last night, you’d wandered down to your room around the same time as everyone else scattered, ignoring the questioning looks Petra kept giving you as the two of you got ready in her room.

    “He’s nice.” Petra had said. “An overemotional self-sacrificial dumbass, but… He’s nice.” You guessed this was her form of a blessing as she removed the heavy black shadow from her lids and slipped into bed.

    You couldn’t sleep much, your brain in too many places at once as you kept jolting awake, the sight of your ceiling becoming unbearable after a while. As quietly as possibly, you’d slipped on your uniform, grabbing your schoolbag and a pack of cigarettes before heading up to the roof for some alone time.

    Now, as you look over at him and he looks back at you, you begin to think that maybe you never wanted to be alone at all.

    “So, what brings you here so early in the morning?” You ask, deciding to find out what is bothering him, and he shrugs, looking down at his hands.

    “Couldn’t sleep.” He mutters, and you furrow your brow, about to ask, before he clears his throat and continues. “Plus, I’m pretty sure we’re not allowed to smoke in school, and I don’t feel like being disemboweled for wanting to relax.”

    There it is, the usual snark, designed to hide emotions and any sign of weakness, and you offer a tight smile in return, gesturing to his white tee-shirt and baggy sweatpants to offer a change of conversation. “You should probably put some real clothes on before the morning really begins.”

    He glances down. “Ah.” When he looks back at you, he quirks an eyebrow. “You seem to have already thought of that. How long have you been up here?”

    You shrug, for some reason unwilling to disclose that it had been hours. “Only a bit.” He gets this look, like he just knows somehow that you’re lying, and you clear your throat and turn to face him. “But seriously – classes start pretty soon, so you should get changed.”

    Marcus nods, standing and stepping on the cigarette, before turning and heading back to the door wordlessly. You watch with pursed lips as he leaves, the door slamming behind him, before taking one final drag and flicking your cigarette over the ledge and following suit.

    The first lesson of the day passes by with little to no action, and before you know it, it’s breaktime and Petra is ranting about overplayed music as Billy listens intently and Lex relieves himself on someone’s grave, like a true gentleman.

    “Every year, there’s an album that’s so overplayed you can’t get away from it. And you know, even if you liked it, after the proliferation it becomes ear poison forever.” She rants, trying to get her lighter to flick on. After a few goes, Billy steps in, and you raise an eyebrow. Has he still not told her? You think.

    “What’s really shocking is that you like INXS at all. You usually have such great taste. Just doesn’t seem like your thing.” Billy says, and Petra scoffs.

    “Michael Hutchence is every girl’s thing.” She says, raising an eyebrow at you, and you shrug in return as Billy looks at you expectantly.

    “I mean, kinda.” You reply, before noticing Marcus approaching the group.

    “Hey, uh, whatcha smokin’?” He asks, and when Petra holds out her cigarette he looks to the side dejectedly. “Right, uh, got any weed?”

    You open your mouth to let him down easily before Lex pipes up from the side, zipping himself up. “We all enjoy a wee nip of pollen,” He says, throwing a bottle to the side as the shattering sound fills the tranquil environment – pretty much a metaphor for whenever Lex says anything, come to think of it. “But first thing in the morning? Tres gauche.”

    He does his belt up and shoots you a wink, coming to join the group, and Billy shrugs. “Marcus just likes drugs, Lex. I like ‘em too. Drugs are very cool. No one ever tells you that.”

    You smile at Billy’s almost childlike output of thoughts. “What about the Hessians?” Marcus tries, and Petra rolls her eyes.

    “School’s dry, Desperate Dan.”

     “You look like boiled asshole.” Billy comments, and Marcus meets your gaze for half a second before glancing away quickly as you pointedly focus on the wall behind him, blowing out smoke and ignoring Petra’s questioning look.

     “Yeah, well, I didn’t sleep very well.” Marcus is intercepted by the bell, and you offer him a small side smile as the Rats begin to grab their things and head to class.

    As Lex throws his cigarette to the ground, he turns to Marcus with an incredibly mischievous smile. “Oh well, you’ll have to face the day dry, son. Easy does it, let go and let God, one day at a time.” He spouts random motivational quotes, gesturing wildly, before grabbing Marcus by the cheeks and planting a kiss on his lips.

    You raise your eyebrows as Lex pulls away, giving Marcus a slap for good measure, before turning to grab his things as Marcus figures out what just happened.

    “Now don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, love.” Lex slaps your ass as he passes, offering you a salute before disappearing around the stone wall. You roll your eyes, turning to wait for Marcus, when you notice him staring at empty space.

    “Marcus? You coming?” You ask, and he turns to look at you, a haunted expression in his eyes that he shakes away rapidly and schools into neutrality.

     “What do we have first?” He asks, and you smirk as the two of you begin to walk

     “Poison Lab.” At this, he groans. “Oh, come on, Denke’s probably the only cool teacher we have. The rest are… Pretty terrifying, to be honest.”

      “Fine. But I’m not poisoning any rabbits.” He says stubbornly, and you smile as the two of you enter the halls.

    “How about people?” You joke, and he shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips.

      “That, I’m okay with.”

    You’ve always admired the pure excitement on Professor Denke’s face as he talks about various poisons, relaying their gruesome effects and honestly horrifying uses with childlike glee. Today’s class was no different, even as the lesson begins to wind down to a close.

    “ICI expected VX pesticide would increase agricultural capacity. Instead, they discovered one of the deadliest poisons on the planet. Guess what the government did with this… miracle innovation.” Denke shares with an excited expression, one that Billy is always all too happy to mirror.

    “Gee, Mr. Denke – they didn’t use it on anyone, did they?” Billy exaggerates his expressions, and you smile at the interaction as Mr. Denke smiles in return.

    “Boy howdy, did they. But what’s really exciting is what they have planned. Uncle Sam is stockpiling the stuff. So are the Soviets. Why?” Professor Denke turns the question to the class.

    “To finish off whoever’s left after the nukes.” Petra answers, always one step ahead of the class.

    “Hey, you can slip some into Reagan’s jellybeans, Marcus.” One of the Hessians, Jaden, you think you remember, taunts, and you roll your eyes. “You know? For when you kill the President?” He mocks even further, and you glance over at Marcus who just clenches his jaw and stares straight ahead.

    You offer the greasy-looking teen a middle finger, a sarcastic smile plastered to your face when he sees it, just before the bell rings and everyone moves to grab their things.

    “Homework is to make a list of other synthetic poisons our overlords hoard!” Denke calls out over the din of students rushing off to the next class. “Have a good weekend, future disruptors of America.”

    You offer Denke a salute on your way out of class, chasing after Marcus who walks with an irritated scowl plastered to his face. “Ignore them. They’re all dicks.”

    Marcus scoffs, and you sigh. “Come on. The wondrous joys of Study Hall lie in wait.”

    “Study Hall?” He questions, and you laugh at the look on his face as the two of you approach the library.

    “Don’t stress – the librarian’s always asleep, just do whatever you want. But, you know, silently.” You smirk, placing your finger on your lips as you make your way into the dimly lit room, and he rolls his eyes but follows anyway.

      The two of you plunk yourselves down at the same table, Marcus on the left and you on the right, and as the bell signifies the start of the lesson you pull out your Poison textbook and get started on the homework.

    The sound of scribbling attracts your attention shortly after, and you glance over at Marcus with a raised eyebrow as he draws in the notepad he always carries around. He catches your eye and closes the cover before you can get a good look at what he’s drawing, and you hold your hands up in surrender and go back to your book.

    “Dude,” Marcus says, and you look over to see he’s talking to Yukio. Oh no. “That the new ‘Love and Rockets’? So crazy great. I love the Hernandez Brothers.”

    “Suck a dick, wannabe.” Yukio retorts, and you wince as Marcus shrinks back, turning his attention to you.

    “What are you reading?” He half-whispers, not even bothering to fully lower his voice anymore. When you lift the hardback cover to show him the textbook name, he groans, leaning back in his chair.

    “Anything good in here?” He asks, sliding the book towards him as he flicks through the pages. You reach over, as if to pull the book back, and he tuts, holding it out of your reach.

    “Marcus.” You scold, making another move for it, but he leans back even further in his chair. “I’m trying to do my homework!”

    “Oh, come on. You already know everything. I’ve seen you in Poison Lab, you’re like – basically as smart as Petra.”

    Although the comment makes your heart flutter, you act insulted, narrowing your eyes. “Basically?” You repeat, watching with amusement as he opens his mouth to backtrack.

    Before he gets the chance, there’s a loud smacking sound that fills the library, and you turn to find Billy standing with a smug smile in front of the rudely awoken librarian.

    “I wanted to check this out. But I’m having a hard time understanding,” Billy pauses as he flips open the book and turns it towards the old librarian. “This chapter.”

    Her expression goes stormy as she looks at the page. “If you diseased abnormalities vandalize one more book, with…” She looks down. “Swollen genitals. You will be banned.”

    “Of course it’s dicks.” You mutter, glancing at the blue pen still clutched in Billy’s hand. Marcus glances at you with an amused smile and you roll your eyes. “I’m just saying, he could stand to be a little more creative.”

    “Dicks, dicks, dicks, dicks, dicks dicks dicks!” She exclaims, and you purse your lips in an attempt not to laugh as she continues her tirade. “That’s all you savages think about. You have got dicks on the brain!” She yells, turning to scold the whole class, and a laugh bursts out at the doodled penis on the side of her face.

    She threatens the class a few more times before finally settling back in her seat, and you offer Billy a not-so-subtle high five as he comes to sit back down. Marcus slides your textbook back to you, once the room has settled, and you smile as you think back to his earlier comment.

    He’s right – you could probably list five other synthetic poisons off the top of your head, but you open the textbook anyway and continue the paragraph as Marcus begins to scribble again beside you.

    You have a free next, in place of AP Black Arts, so you off Marcus a quick salute as he leaves the library.

    You join Lex, Billy, and Petra in the Graveyard for your free – Marcus is the abnormality in the Rats when it comes to classes. Somehow, he was put into AP Black Arts, unlike the rest of you, something you’re fine with. From what you’ve heard of the class assignments you’d rather spend an hour on the rooftop anyway.

    Lex rants about how Martial Arts are mundane in the 80s as you paint his nails black a bottle of nail polish that you’d swiped off Petra’s dresser earlier in the week. She offers you a glare, but holds out her hand anyway once you’ve finished Lex’s nails so that you can do hers.

    Before you know it, it’s lunch, and the four of you make your way down to the cafeteria, which seems much emptier than usual. The large room is bustling, but you notice the absence of the main figures of the school – basically the entirety of AP Black Arts. Just as you begin to grow concerned, the doors burst open.

    The class stumbles in, covered in their own blood. Before you can begin to get concerned, Viktor dumps the garbage can over Shabnam (consistently on a tirade to get class president) and you wince as the plastic container basically swallows him whole.

    Marcus, ever the knight-in-shining-armor, helps Shabnam up, and you watch with a furrowed brow as there’s a small exchange and Shabnam hands him a cassette. When Marcus finally makes his way over to your table, you widen your eyes as you take in the trails of blood staining his face and his clothes.

    “What the fuck happened to you?” Lex asks, polite as ever, and Marcus shrugs.

    “Poison gas and a standoff with the monks.” He answers, deadpan, before digging in to whatever the slop is that they gave us at lunch today.

    “You okay?” You ask, and he waves you off.

    “We got the antidote. Well, we had to get the antidote, but I’m all good.” As he’s talking to you, Lex swipes the cassette off the table and groans as he reads the playlist out loud.

    “U2. Whitesnake. Banana-bloody-rama and Def Leppard. Sweet Lord Jesus.” He exclaims, disgust etched in his features as he flings the tape across the table and you snort into your food.

    “Hey, what happened to the kids who didn’t make it through? Are they-” Marcus asks, suddenly concerned.

    “Dead.” Petra states grimly, and just as Marcus glances up in shock Billy cuts in.

    “Nah. The gothic Oompa Loompa monks revived the losers and whisked them back from whence they came.” As Billy speaks, you notice Shabnam waving, and groan as Marcus waves back.

    “New pal?” Lex taunts.

    “Yeah I’m not really into the hierarchy, don’t normally shit on the physically unattractive, but… That dude and his crew are highly annoying.”

    “Not to mention he’s been thirsting after our dear Y/N ever since she said his campaign poster ‘looked nice’.” Lex laughs, and you flip him off as you remember the fatal mistake.

   “One fucking time.” You groan.

    “Wait a second – his crew?” Marcus questions.

    “The Goob patrol. Banker kids, mafia accountants, NASA…” Billy lists, and Marcus looks shocked.

    “NASA?” He echoes, and Lex shakes his head.

    “Oh, there’s a lot they’re not telling you.”

    “Well, whatever, I’m not gonna watch some kid get bullied.” Marcus retorts, and Lex makes a face as Petra leans in and glances over at you.

    “These animals see kindness as weakness. Safer to be a dick.” She nudges you, as if to remind you or to get you to agree with her, and you shrug when you catch Marcus’ eye.

    “Everyone loves a dick.” Billy pipes up, back to his antics, and Lex eagerly jumps in at the opportunity to be vulgar.

    “Oi oi, some more than others.” He makes an obscene gesture as Billy laughs.

    “Boys.” You mutter to Petra, and she smiles, just as a figure moves in the corner of your eye and you turn to find Shabnam sitting at your table.

    “Any of you guys seen the new Spuds McKenzie commercial?” Shabnam asks, and the table goes quiet as Petra glares at Marcus.

    “You’ve brought a plague on our house.”

    “You know, I hear they don’t really give that dog beer,” Shabnam continues, and you rest your face in your hands trying to hide from the awkwardness. “PETA or some left-wing baby would complain.”

    “You know what goes great with people who love beer commercials?” Lex starts. “A bullet, in the box.” He glares at Shabnam, as if willing him to leave, but Shabnam brushes it off and turns to Marcus.

   “Anyway, Marcus, my parental units are gonna be out of town, so me and my crew were thinking of firing up the Commodore 64, a little Castle Wolfenstein, a charcuterie plate…” As he goes on Lex mimes stabbing himself with the fork. “My dad prob left some amaretto too, if you want to get a little crazy.” You can literally think of nothing duller, and you shake your head as Marcus’ eye catches yours.

    You can see the look in Marcus’ eye as he turns to face Shabnam, and your eyes widen a split second before he says,

    “We’re in.”

    Billy chokes on his drink. “Come again?”

    “Marcus.” You warn, eyes wide, but he turns to you all with a smug smile.

    “School’s dry, so you know, something’s better than nothing.” He explains, and Billy tilts his head, considering the idea.

    “My dad was clear, just a few friends.” Shabnam tries, but Billy scoots off his seat and stands behind Shabnam, hands on his shoulders.

    “Can’t win an election with just a few friends.” Billy explains, looking up to you guys for support.

    “You need to connect with the proletariat.” Lex says, gesturing to himself.

    “It will be a small gathering, we promise.” Marcus smiles, and you roll your eyes.

    Looks like you’re all going to Shabnam’s house for a party full of hormonal teenage assassins. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

     By the time you and Petra arrive, Shabnam’s house is overflowing with a throng of angsty teenagers drinking and being rowdy. The outside of the house is surrounded by your peers, and you narrowly avoid getting slammed into by some dude with his top off as you climb the stairs.

     Petra’s dark eyebrows shoot up as the door swings open and the both of you are greeted by way too many people and loud obnoxious music. You self-consciously adjust your Ramones tee, glancing at all the Legacies that surround you.

     “It’s even worse than I thought.” Petra groans, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd and towards the bar. 

     You allow yourself to be pulled along, even when you notice that Viktor is tending the bar and Petra sits down in front of him. He smiles and leans on the counter, basically just staring at her, and you roll your eyes and grab the nearest bottle of alcohol you can reach. Jack Daniels. It’ll do.

     You sit in silence for a little, drinking from your solo cup – you’re not a heathen, like the rest of your class, and you refuse to drink straight from someone else parent’s bottle – as you scan the party for any familiar faces while Petra actively ignores Viktor, who is still staring at her.

     “Alright. I’m gonna go find someone with decent music.” You state, standing up and offering a hand to Petra. She eyes it, then shakes her head, and although your eyebrows shoot up, you nod and down your drink (probably not a great decision if the burn is any indication) before turning to leave.

     Just when you think you’ve found a quiet place to chill, two FWOs shove past you into the closet and begin shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. You wrinkle your nose in disgust and turn the corner quickly, hoping to escape the situation, when you smack into someone and nearly lose balance.

     “Woah there.” A familiar voice says, warm hands settling on your hips to steady you. Your gaze meets Marcus’ and your slightly tipsy brain helpfully informs you that he looks good tonight. Something about seeing him out of uniform. 

     “You okay?” He asks, and you realize you’ve been silent.

     “Oh, yeah.” Suddenly too close for comfort, you step back, crossing your arms and smiling. “Yes. Just, you know. This isn’t exactly… My scene.”

     He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and raises his beer can. “That’s what this stuff is for.” You nod, looking around, and when you glance back he’s holding up a second can. 

     “Okay, I didn’t know you did magic.” You joke, taking it from him and pretending you didn’t see the table of beers next to him, and he shrugs.

     “What can I say. I have many tricks up my sleeve.” You roll your eyes and pop the cap, taking a sip, when all of a sudden Petra appears next to you and grabs your arm.

     “Hi Marcus. Bye Marcus.” She says, tugging you out of the room, and you offer a quick glance at a confused Marcus before the two of you round the corner into the living room.

      “What the hell?” You say, and she gives you an apologetic smile as she pulls you onto the couch to sit next to her.

     “I heard there was pizza and I didn’t want you to miss any.” She offers, pushing up her fishnet sleeve as she reaches over the coffee table and grabs a slice from the open box. You roll your eyes but follow suit, alternating bites of pizza with sips of something strong from a red solo cup as Petra starts talking to some goth Prep girl, and you begin to think that maybe parties aren’t so bad.

     Billy appears in the doorway, and you smile at him as he approaches the two of you. “Pizza.” He says, dumbly, pointing at the box, and you raise your eyebrows as Petra gives him a blank stare. “Italy.” He finishes, and you wince. 

     You offer him another smile just as Lex walks over from the side of the room. “Would it kill you to smile, Petra? Poor, sad poet.” He mocks, coming over and plopping down in the very limited space next to you, practically on top of you.

     “Hi to you too.” You mutter into your pizza as he continues to talk literally over you.

     “Thigh-cutting, clove-smoking, mardy fucking Bauhaus listener. Go to the park. Feed the sodding squirrels.” Petra stands and leaves the room, raising her middle finger as she goes. “Life’s not so bad.” Lex calls after her.

     Billy leaves after she does, dejected, and you sigh as Lex becomes bored and shoves his way off of you when Brandy Lynn enters the room. You’ve seen Lex like this before – when he drinks he goes on the offense, targeting people before they can target him.  

     As he begins his tirade against the Southern girl, you reach over from the couch and pluck the almost empty bottle from his hand, finishing the contents yourself with a grimace. Of course, he’s drinking pure fucking vodka.

     Brandy Lynn leaves, and you wince as he throws himself at the next person. You stand, having had enough of this, and stand next to Lex as the older man makes a decent comeback.

     “Hey, Lex–” You try, but he basically pushes you away and you roll your eyes at his stubbornness. You reach over and grab his arm, tugging him back a step, but he just narrows his eyes and turns around and clambers onto the coffee table.

     “For fuck’s sake.” 

     “Hey! Everyone!” He shouts, gesturing frantically as you put your hands on your hips and look up at him. “A happy ending! The git from ‘The Hills Have Eyes’ is living his best life!” He continues to mock the man, laughing, before collapsing on the couch. 

     “Come on, dude. That was such a dick move, even for you.” You berate, but he just rolls his eyes, obviously not paying attention.

      “You’ve got ‘em all pegged, Lex.” Marcus’ voice comes from behind you as he enters the room, and you glance nervously between the two smart-asses, unsure of what the interaction will hold.

     “Looking down your nose? Talking loud? You’re no different than a Jock, or a Prep. Just another elitist dick with bad hair and a shitty bicycle chain necklace.” Marcus is hitting where it hurts, and you can tell that Lex doesn’t like that as he leans forwards.

     “Careful, mate. Murder school and all that.” He says, and Marcus throws his beer can across the room as Lex laughs. 

     “Really, dude?” You ask, exasperated when he ignores you yet again, before turning to follow Marcus as he stalks angrily out of the room.

     “He’s drunk.” You try to explain as you catch up, and Marcus scoffs, not even sparing you a side glance.

     “He’s a bully. He knew Billy was trying to talk to Petra and he dicked it all up.” Marcus’ voice is full of anger.

     Before you get a chance to reply, a mass of blonde curls appears next to you out of nowhere, and a surprisingly strong hand grips your shoulder, nails digging into the flesh, and you find yourself getting shoved into the bathroom to the side.

     “Seven minutes in heaven, weirdos.” Brandy Lynn says smugly, her southern drawl irritating as ever, and she slams the door closed in your face just as launch yourself at her angrily.

     You rattle the handle as she laughs in the hallway beyond, causing you to rest your forehead against the wooden paneling and sigh as you realize she’s locked it behind her. Just for the hell of it, you rattle the handle a few more times, pounding on the door once for good measure. 

     “Stop.” Marcus says suddenly, reminding you that he got trapped in here too, and you sigh and turn around to face him.

     “I’m going to kill her.” You state plainly, and he quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, just leans back onto the bathroom countertop and crosses his arms. Your brain begins to take a U-turn back to your previous thought about how casual clothes look really good on him, especially that shirt – when you force yourself to cut off that train of thought instantly. 

     You blink as you come back to the present, and Marcus raises his eyebrows. “Ooh, you are drunk.” He states, laughter in his voice, and you lean over and shove him lightly.

     “Am not. Just… I don’t drink a lot.” You admit, and he gets that stupid smirk of his as he pushes off the sink and approaches you.

     He comes to stand close to you, leaning in close enough that your faces are barely a few inches apart, and you find yourself holding your breath at the proximity. He leans in just a little more, enough that you can see the amber in his dark eyes, when he smiles.

     “You’re drunk.” He states again, proud of himself, and you roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. 

     After a beat, he doesn’t move away, and neither do you. Frozen in time, you let your eyes trace his facial features. 

     Another few beats, and you find the both of you moving towards each other ever so slowly. His hand comes up to your waist, and your breath hitches as your eyes drown down to his lips. Your brain reminds you that this is a bad idea, but then again, when have you ever listened to common sense? 

     Somehow, the kiss happens as a mutually initiated thing, the both of you leaning forwards at just the right moment to seal your lips together. The gentle nature of the kiss surprises you, soft and slow and everything a kiss between two drunk teenagers in someone else’s bathroom shouldn’t be, but at some moment in time your hand comes up to rest on his neck and his other hand comes up to the back of your head, tangling in your hair.

     You allow yourself to get lost in the moment, time both frozen and sped up at once in a dizzying paradox, and somehow the two of you end up across the bathroom with your back against the towel rack as your arms come up and wrap themselves around Marcus’ neck.

     “This dirtbag was comin’ at me, yo–” The moment is shattered as Willie’s voice carries into the bathroom. Marcus physically breaks away from you, not even sparing you a glance as he storms out of the tiny room (when did they unlock the door?) and leaves you alone with your thoughts.

     You take a deep breath, running a hand through your hair and turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, as if your reflection will be able to tell you what the hell just happened. Your reflection just stares at you blankly, pupils blown and lips slightly swollen.

     You stay in the bathroom for a little while, splashing some water on your face and readjusting yourself so that it doesn’t look like you just made out with someone in Shabnam’s bathroom. When you finally reenter the party, you head directly for the kitchen in search of some water to help sober you up and come to terms with yourself. 

     A green mohawk is the first thing you see, and so you confidently stroll into the room until you finally see the person Billy is talking to. Marcus has his back turned to you, as does Billy, as he digs around in the cupboards, and you turn to leave before they see you.

     “Y/N!” Billy shouts, and you grimace slightly before turning to face the two boys again. “Come help me look for Quaker Oats.” Billy says, and your eyes meet Marcus’ for a half a second before he looks away.

     “This again?” You ask, but head over to the cabinet to help him search nonetheless just as Marcus counters Billy’s theory that the Quaker Oats guy is God.

     You find nothing in the cupboard, and turn to inform Billy when you spot Petra approaching. “Oh thank God.” You mutter to yourself, abandoning your search and heading over to her.

     “Okay, real talk, you can’t tell anyone, but I really have to talk to you–” You start to unload your emotions onto Petra as she takes a slice of pizza, listening intently, but are cut off by Billy approaching nervously.

     You stop talking, not wanting him to overhear. “Hey, I know- Look- I’m sorry… If it’s lame. But um, I think you’re really smart, and funny, and really pretty, and um… I think I love you Petra.”

     Both you and Petra just stare for a moment, eyes wide after that confession, and Petra’s eyes dart between you and Billy for a moment. “Um… I- I don’t- I don’t really know what to say, Billy. I think you’re a great guy…” She starts, obviously nervous, and Billy waves her off.

     “You’ve got a mouth full of pizza. I’m such a clod. Let me get you something to drink, okay?” He says, grabbing a cup and heading to the sink as Petra gives you a panicked look and sets down her pizza.

     Her eye catches something behind you, and before you know it she’s brushing past you and grabbing a shirtless Viktor. Your eyes widen, bewildered, and she offers you a panicked shrug before the two of them disappear around the corner. 

     At that moment, you see Billy move past you, noticing the empty space and heading into the throng of people to look for her. You don’t want to see him discovering what she’s really done, so you just watch him walk away, leaving you and…

     Shit. You didn’t think this through.

     You turn to face Marcus, and he finally meets your gaze. A moment of excruciating awkwardness passes while you think back to only a little while ago when the two of you were-

     “Look…” You begin, at the same time Marcus starts with, 

     “So…”

     The two of you both stop, waiting for the other to continue, and Marcus holds out his beer bottle to gesture for you to keep talking.

     “We’re both drunk.” You state, as he begins to nod along. “It doesn’t have to have meant anything.”

     “Exactly.” He affirms, and you nod decisively. Marcus doesn’t say anything else, just takes another swig, and you sigh and grab a solo cup and pour the remnants of some amber liquid from a glass bottle into it before turning and heading into the other rooms.

     You spot Billy’s green hair on the couch, staring into the fish tank, and you sigh and move to sit on his left. “Hey, bud.” You try, but he stays silent and you give up, turning to sip from your cup.

     “Oh, fuck.” The curse leaves your mouth as you spot Lex coming to sit on the other side of Billy. You shake your head at him, but he deliberately doesn’t look at you.

     “Saw what happened. Must be rough. Must be hard.” You can see his childish thought process. “Although… Not as hard as Viktor right now. Guy his size. What’s he doing to her?”

      Billy stands and leaves, exasperated, despite Lex calling after him, leaving you to glare at Lex as he shrugs and feigns innocence.

     The almost tranquil atmosphere is shattered when Viktor shows up in the doorway, nude. You blink, eyes going straight for the ceiling as you try to get rid of that image that is in your brain forever now. “Let’s go balls out. Everyone get nuts!” Viktor screams, and you keep your gaze glued to the ceiling in fear of seeing any more.

     “Saw you disappear for a little bit there.” Lex comments, and you roll your eyes as he leans closer. “Then, I saw you coming out of the bathroom – which is, scientifically, the number one teenage wanking spot, I believe.”

     You turn to face him with a fake pleasant smile, staring him dead in the eyes. “I get what you’re doing, and I’m not in the mood, okay?”

     He scoffs, leaning even closer, and you can smell the rancid alcohol on his breath. “So, which lucky bloke got to- 

     “Enough!” You shout, standing up quickly before he can continue that vulgar train of thought. “I’ve had enough. Sober up and stop being a dick or you’re gonna lose the only friends you have, idiot.”

     He narrows his eyes but – thank God – doesn’t follow with an insult or a retort, just sinks into the sofa. You finish your drink, passing from the living room into the dining room, just in time to catch the contents of Marcus’ drink hit Brandy Lynn in the face. “You bigoted piece of shit!” Marcus shouts.

     “Oh, shit.”

     You manage to throw yourself in between a fuming Brandy and her target in the nick of time, momentarily distracting her as you turn and shove Marcus’ chest backwards. “He’s drunk!” You hear Saya defending him as you shove him into the kitchen as she continues to fling insults at him.

      She gives up in the hall, and when you’ve finally shoved Marcus into the almost empty room you wheel on him. You’re not sure what comes over you – maybe it’s the confusion of the kiss, or the alcohol, or the pent-up frustration from time spent with the students of Kings Dominion, but you find yourself letting loose on him.

     “You have to stop throwing yourself at everyone in hopes of a fight!” You shout, frustration mounting with each word. “You have to stop playing the hero and seeking out every chance to right other people’s wrongs.”

     “Yeah? And why is that?” He retorts, stupid smirk on his face despite the cold hard fury brewing in his dark eyes, spurred on by the alcohol and the adrenaline, and you turn around to stare at the wall and calm yourself. “No one else does anything to help those in need. Not even you, miss high-and-mighty.” 

     “Excuse me?” You wheel around, eyes narrowed and he laughs – the audacity – and takes a swig from the bottle.

     “I’ve seen you, acting all protective and…” He gestures wildly towards you, then pauses and shakes his head. “But you never live up to any of it! All you do is act like you’re gonna help – and then guess what? You don’t, you get scared off, and people get bullied and tortured and their lives become living hells.”

     You stand with your mouth open, unable to answer with the anger that clutches at your throat, and before you can even begin to say something he comes out with the final insult, designed to wound deeply.  

      “And I think that you just can’t stand the fact that I’ve come along and I… I actually stand up for people. That you can’t actually help anyone. 

     Marcus is smart, and cunning, and an incredible smart-ass. Recently, you’ve found incredible entertainment in his retorts towards the insults and harsh names slung at him, but now that you’re on the receiving end of his sharp (drunk) mouth, it’s not funny anymore.

     You felt that one. The room is too loud, too bright, and you feel physically uncomfortable as you notice the party still raging around you and the insult burrowing deeper into you, spreading slowly like some kind of poison until all you feel is hurt. You shake your head, biting your lip, and shove past Marcus into the kitchen.

     “Lover’s quarrel?” Brandy Lynn quips, the alcohol on her face still drying, and you manage a quick middle finger before you’ve thrown open the back door and made your way out into the cool night air. You take huge, deep breaths, willing the cold night air to make its way through your body and swallow you whole.

     The creak of hinges alerts you of the door opening again, and you wheel around with a scathing insult ready to hurl at whoever’s come out here to taunt you, but you meet Lex’s concerned gaze instead.

     “I caught the end of that nasty row.” He comments, coming to stand next to you, and you huff. 

     “I told you, I’m not in the mood for–” You start to argue, but he shushes you by pressing a clammy finger to your lips.

     “Relax, darling.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow and look down at his finger, which he promptly removes. “I’m not going to start anything. Just… You shouldn’t feel bad. Marcus is sloshed. Pissed. On the lash.”

     When Lex is met only by your confused expression, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “The man’s drunk, and he’s been wailing on the rest of the school all night. He doesn’t mean it.” 

     You roll your eyes, and Lex pats you once on the back before turning and heading inside to find something more interesting to do. You follow after a little, avoiding the living room where you’d spotted Marcus retreating to, and opting instead to hang around in the main hall. 

     You blink when Lex drops down from the staircase in a pink bra and panties over his clothes and – knowing this can only go south – push yourself off the wall and try to follow him as he waves around a giant pink dildo.

      “En garde!” He harasses Brandy Lynn, stabbing her with the offending object a couple times before moving on to dunk it in Willie’s drink, making him get up and walk out.

     “Lex, stop!” Shabnam calls, but Lex ignores him, and moves onto his next victim. “Lex, STOP!” Shabnam repeats, shoving Lex into the wall. 

     “Scoot off, you tit!” Lex shoves Shabnam back, turning to continue his assault, when Shabnam doubles down. 

     “I’ve read your file. Your dad’s not some tough gangster, you’re just this lowly fucking Rat who came from a dock worker!” Shabnam screams, and the room goes silent as Lex wheels around. 

     Oh no. You know how sensitive the subject of Lex’s dad is, and that this can’t go well. 

     “What did you say?” He almost whispers. “Don’t. You. Ever. Talk about my dad again, you yuppie piece of shit!” Lex punctuates his words with smacks of the dildo, hitting Shabnam over and over. “Take you mother’s dong! Eat your mother’s-“

     Before he can land another blow, Saya has chopped the disturbing object in two and effectively ended the fight. Lex storms off, fuming, as Viktor (still nude) stands in the doorway and claps. “There is old KGB wisdom. Sometimes you are dildo, and sometimes you are face. 

     Before any of you can fully dig into that truly philosophical insight, someone runs past screaming, “COPS!”, and all hell breaks loose.

     People run past, shoving you out of the way as they clamber for an escape route, and you finally gather your senses enough to follow them, sprinting out the front door and pushing through the crowd.

     In the chaos, a singular point of stillness on the lawn catches your eye as you notice Marcus standing still, clutching his head. “Shit.” You mutter to yourself, making your way over to him as the crowds thin and the likelihood of getting caught increases.

     “Marcus?” You start quietly, leaning close to him as he shakes his head. “Marcus, come on, we have to go.” 

     He still doesn’t move. You’re about to physically tug him when Willie appears behind you, grabbing Marcus’ shoulder. “That cop just recognized you.” He states, matter-of-factly, and you wonder just when Marcus got close to the FWO leader.

     You put that thought at the back of your mind as the cop points towards the three of you. “Shit. Take him, I got this.” You say to Willie, ignoring Marcus’ confused look, and Willie nods and takes off running, dragging Marcus along.

     The cop begins to follow them, obviously intent on following the wanted teenager, when you drop down and swing your leg, tripping him up. He makes a move to stand and goes for his gun when you grab the trash lid, slamming it on his head, and throwing it at the other police officer.

      “Hey!” He screams, dodging, and you take off the in the opposite direction of Marcus, smiling when you hear his footsteps following you. After a block or so, you duck into an alley, scaling the chain link fence and clambering onto the rooftop.

     When you peek down, you notice the officer glancing around for you, obviously bewildered, and you allow yourself to breathe.

     No more parties. You tell yourself, making your way over the rooftops of San Francisco and heading back to Kings.

Chapter Text

      The morning sunlight that filters into your dorm room might as well be lasers pointed directly into your eyes, and as you slowly come to consciousness you groan and turn over, burrowing your face further into your pillow to try and block out the offending sunlight.

     “Morning, sunshine.” A voice calls out, and when you risk a peek out from the darkness, you find Petra leaning over you with a smirk on her face.

     You mumble something along the lines of ‘No thank you’, going to pull the covers further over yourself, when she sighs and yanks the sheets off the bed, exposing you to both the light and the cold.

     You yelp, reaching out for the covers again, but Petra dangles them safely out of your reach. “Nope. Come on, it’s almost midday. You’re wasting the weekend.”

     You make another sound of protest, watching her roll her eyes in your peripheral vision before she drops the covers to the floor and cold hands grab your ankles. 

     “One… Two…” She starts, and you shake your head insistently. She sighs and yanks, tugging you away from the pillow and basically off the bed, leaving you to scramble so that your face doesn’t connect with the hard flooring. You end up sprawled on the floor, limbs in odd positions, and when you finally look back up at her she’s grinning.

     “Ow, what the Hell?” You rub at your eyes as they slowly adjust, and Petra crosses her arms and looks down at you with a self-satisfied smirk.

     “Saturday. Diner. Come on.” She states, and you roll your eyes but begin to gather yourself and stand nonetheless, the temptation of cherry pie and coffee fueling you. 

     Being a student at Kings Dominion is a time-consuming, all-encompassing lifestyle, and you’ve learned to grab whatever small moments of normal life you can. And so, a little while ago, you and Petra had started going to the diner every free Saturday you had. She gets a chocolate milkshake, you get the cherry pie, and you don’t discuss school or anything related to killing – for a little while, once a week, you feel normal.

     Once the two of you are dressed and ready, you exit your dorm room debating the quality of the new Sisters of Mercy album.

     “I’m just saying – ‘Floodland’ is good, but they’re never going to top ‘First And Last And Always’, and that’s just a fact.” Petra points out, dark makeup accentuating her facial expressions, and you sigh. You can’t argue about this with her and you know it.

     The voice of your headmaster reaches you as the two of you continue down the hall, and you have to sidestep to avoid Master Lin as he steps out of the temporary room. Marcus’ room.

     “Morning.” He offers, and your eyes narrow slightly as you take in his formal looking coat and hat, before the door to the room opens and Marcus looks back at you in shock from his doorway, dressed in a suit.

     “Uh, good morning.” You offer back, glancing between Master Lin and Marcus as Petra grabs your arm and gently tugs you past.

      You risk a glance back and make eye contact with Marcus, who shrugs his shoulders at your confused expression as if to say ‘I don’t know’. You hear a fake cough from beside you, and you look over to Petra who is now smiling smugly.

      “So… You and New Kid, huh?” She asks, and you will your cheeks to stop reddening as you shake your head.

     “It’s nothing.” You manage, and she offers you a knowing look as the two of you exit the Chinese restaurant and make your way onto the streets of San Francisco. 

     “I’m willing to bet it’s not nothing. Was it him you were trying to talk to me about at the party?” Petra’s smart, too smart, and you really can’t lie to her.

     “Yes.” You mutter, trying and failing not to blush.

      “No. No! You didn’t.” 

      “It was just a kiss! Plus, you can’t say anything, Mrs. KGB. What the hell is up with you and Viktor?” You shift the conversation as she holds the door to the diner open. 

      You offer the judgmental old lady who mutters something about ‘the disrespect of teens these days’ a firm middle finger, relishing in the shock and indignation on her face.

     “Nothing’s ‘up’. He was a curiosity. Plus he’s… Nice.” At this, your eyebrows shoot up. “Okay, maybe not nice, but he doesn’t – he doesn’t treat me like I’m just a Rat, you know? It was a one-time thing, anyway.” It’s Petra’s turn to begin to blush under her pasty foundation as the two of you slide into a red vinyl booth.

     “Huh.” You state. So maybe you’d misjudged Viktor. He’s a dumb jock, he hangs around the white supremacists, and he has genuinely atrocious taste in just about everything, but you’ve never really seen Petra speak about someone this way. Sure, she had a semi-crush on some punk Hessian, but that was only until he grabbed her ass in the hallway and she stabbed him in the thigh.

     Seeing her smile is… Nice. By the time your food has arrived, she’s back to pestering you about Marcus, and with a sheepish smile you gush about the kiss. She smacks you on the arm, surprise in her features, before she schools her face back into a cool and impassive mask. 

     “Well, shit.” Is all she offers, and you smile into your pie as you take a bite.

      “He hurts you, I’ll kill him.” She states, matter-of-factly, and that’s as good as a blessing as you’re going to get.

     The rest of the weekend is spent finishing homework, and before you know it, it’s Monday and classes have started again. You find yourself in Blow Dart Workshop, standing at the front of one of four lines, waiting to be tested. 

      “Blowguns were used by the jungle people of Nicaragua for thousands of years till the Soviets gave them janky Kalashnikovs.” Mrs. De Luca strolls to the front of the classroom, like a jungle cat as she surveys her prey: your class. “To use one, you must be centered with total focus. Well, let's see what you've got.” 

     You tug at the sleeves on your too-long hoodie, pushing them up so that they don’t get in the way as you hold the blowgun up to your lips. You stand, aim, and try to focus in on the dummy’s head. One sharp exhale later, your dart has landed in the mannequin’s chest, but still on the target – which is more than Marcus can say.

     You watch with amusement as his dart hits the floor, barely leaving the end of the blowgun, and he turns to you with a sheepish smile. You roll your eyes as the two of you make your way to the back of the line for the next turn, and he looks over at you.

     “How, exactly, do you use one of these?” He asks, and you laugh.

     “Ask Saya.” You gesture to the Kuroki leader as it lands perfectly in the center of the target’s forehead, and Marcus utters a low whistle. “She’s good at everything.” 

     Your attention is grabbed as Petra stomps over to the line beside you, Viktor following closely behind. 

     “Are you ashamed for others to know of our beautiful night?” Viktor asks, and it takes quite a bit of effort for you not to make a gagging sound at his wording.

     “Look, Drago, you were a curiosity. Forget about it, okay?”

     “Mm… You hide your softness in that cold because you fear feelings.” His evaluation of Petra is surprisingly accurate, and as you move forward in the line with them you try not to show that you’re listening in. 

     “It’s not fear you’re picking up, it’s disinterest.” Petra dismisses him, again. 

     “Go to Legacy dance with me.” Your eyes widen as you try to keep staring at the floor and not whip around. That’s a new one.

     “Jesus, you do speak English, right?”

     Their words become muffled as you get pushed towards the front before them, but when you finally manage to tune back in it’s in time to see Petra put him down again. 

     “No. Nei. Nyet!” She storms off, but when you turn to follow her you make direct eye contact with Ms. De Luca, who offers you a warning look.

     The class passes relatively quickly and before you know it, you and Petra are finishing off your Mellow Yellow in Poison Lab as Denke lists the symptoms caused by the deadly poison.

     The teacher offers the two of you a smile as he views your poison before moving on, just as Brandy Lynn plunks her elbows down on the table facing the two of you. You offer her a blank glare as she turns her attention to Petra.

     “Never would have put you and Vik in the same picnic basket.” The smile plastered on her lips is almost as fake as her fluorescent pink nails. “How did you convince that hunk to get you in?”

     “Did you just say ‘hunk’?” Petra finally replies, disgust lacing her words.

     “Go on and act stuck up but I know you screwed him.” Brandy continues, and you scoff, causing her to turn sharply and look at you. “Oh, don’t act all high and mighty! When I came to unlock that bathroom door you wouldn’t believe the sounds I heard from you and Marcus.”

     You smile back, twice as fake, and she sighs and turns back to Petra. “He’s sweet on you too. Pushing to get you bumped to Legacy.”

     “I’m sorry, are we friends? Why the sudden interest in what I do?” Petra finally snaps, leaning onto her forearms, and Brandy Lynn smirks as she fakes a shrug.

     “No interest. I just wanted to tell you that you’re making the right choice. You don’t belong with us. You come to that dance, you’ll regret it.” You roll your eyes at her threat, waving her a goodbye as she pushes off the table and returns to her seat.

     You turn to Petra to begin to make fun of the country girl when a clattering sounds out from the back of the classroom, and when you turn around, of course it came from Marcus’ desk. His partner is standing, blinking rapidly, and you quickly notice the Mellow Yellow spread across his workspace. Poor dude.

     He starts screaming about a fire as Billy laughs, and Marcus starts to chuckle as he makes eye contact with you. You raise an eyebrow at him and he shrugs, obviously not sorry about it. As the rest of the class joins in the laughter, Denke dismisses the class, and you hastily gather your things and make your way to Marcus’ desk. 

     “You know, if you seek retribution for every hazing prank on us this week, it’s going to be a very long week for you.” You scold as he makes a move to stand, but Denke’s hand appears and pushes him back down. 

     “Stay put. Miss Y/L/N, you’re free to go.” You offer Marcus a glance as he clenches his jaw, but he motions with his head for you to go.

     “See you at lunch.” You offer finally, turning and heading towards the cafeteria. 

     When Marcus finally enters the cafeteria, he grabs his food first and joins you at the table as the other Rats make their way up to the line. 

     You bite into an apple, staring at the nasty-looking food on Marcus’ plate as he digs in. “So, tell me, why do you never eat the cafeteria food?” He asks suddenly, and you laugh.

     “Besides the obvious aesthetic appeal?” You make a face and he laughs. “I made some, uh, comments about the food once to the ‘chef’, and now if I go up I get handed an empty place.” You shrug. “But I really don’t care. I buy snacks when I go out and I eat more in my dorm than in here.”

     He makes a face. “What, they just don’t feed you?” 

     “Well, if I went to Lin he’d probably insist on me getting fed, but the cooks really hold a grudge. I’d probably get served trash. I’m happier like this. Trust me.” You add the last bit as he glances almost menacingly at the cafeteria staff, as if about to pick a fight. 

     The rest of the Rats begin to join the group, and as Petra joins she speaks over to you and Marcus. “You gonna give me a lecture on punk cred?” She asks, and in response you lean over and kiss her cheek, causing her to shove you away with mock disgust.

     “Oh, not at all – Hell, I’d give Viktor a firm handjob to get out of this jive-ass hazing.” Marcus says, making the motion, and you laugh.

     “Dude, you’re giving out handjobs?” Billy asks, incredulous, and Marcus offers a shrug.

     “You might be quieter about it, Marcus, but you’re judging her too. Very intuitive.” Lex speaks up, and you roll your eyes.

     “Says the guy who thinks ‘Jaws’ is a comedy.” Petra retorts.

     “Come on! Nantucket chaps getting chomped? That shark’s a bloody hero.” Lex defends his point of view, and as you lean back and take another bite, you suddenly notice the stillness and silence surrounding the five of you. Everyone is looking at you.

     Chico approaches the table, and you fight your physical response to scoot away as he comes and stands immediately beside where you’re sitting. 

     “How’s lunch?” He asks, shit-eating grin on his face. “Special recipe today.”

     You watch with disgust as Billy pulls a tail out of his food. “Rat. The other white meat.” Chico announces as the cafeteria bursts into laughter and your friends begin spitting their food out.

     You watch with disgust and furrowed brows as they all stand up, hurrying off to go empty their stomachs as you and Marcus – who is remaining surprisingly dignified – gather your things to follow your friends. 

     You move to stand when a hand settles on your shoulder, keeping you down, and you violently jerk away from Chico’s grip. “Don’t worry, chica, we didn’t forget about you.” 

     You ignore the cryptic threat and stand suddenly, moving the opposite direction of the Soto Vatos leader as Marcus follows suit.

      You try to calm your breathing as you enter the hall, heart pounding against your ribs, before Marcus speaks up next to you. “You okay?” He asks, and you manage a nod.

     “Yeah. Just… Not his biggest fan.” You offer ambiguously, turning sharply at the corner towards the girl’s toilets. “I’ll go get Petra.”

     When you get there, though, she isn’t in there, and you breathe a sigh of relief. She didn’t eat much anyway, and you really need a moment to yourself. You grip the white counter top, doubling over as you try to calm your erratic heartrate and steady your shaking hands.

     The door opens and you stand quickly, your face settling into a practiced mask of impassivity. You spot the mass of blonde curls first, and you turn to face the head Nazi in her cheerleader outfit as she stomps towards you, followed by two others. 

     “Brandy Lynn, always a pleasure.” You deadpan, biting back a grimace as she shoves you backwards as a greeting.

     “What’s the deal with you and the Orphan Killer, huh?” You raise an eyebrow at the nickname but decide not to start anything as you count two more of the Dixie Mob file into the bathrooms. You’re outnumbered, and you both know it.

      “I’m talkin’ to you.” She snaps, waving a hand in front of your face, and you run your tongue over your teeth and fold your arms.

     “He’s a Rat. We’re friends. He hangs out in the Graveyard with the rest of us. What the fuck else is there to talk about.” 

     “Friends who make out in bathrooms, is that it?” She cocks her head to the side and you groan.

    “You’re the one who locked us in there.” She rolls her eyes at the reminder, quickly switching back to her main goal.

     “He needs to watch himself, you hear me?” Her tone is sharp and deadly.

      You narrow your eyes. “And you’re saying this to me, why, exactly?” 

     “You two have been spending an awful lot of time together, Y/N. You’re not worth our time right now, but that could change. We wouldn’t want the target on his back to spread onto yours as well.” 

     “I’m touched that you care so much about me. Truly.” You glance between the girls behind her, trying to figure out a motive. 

     “I’m warning you.” Her southern accent turns her threat into a drawl, and you fight the impending urge to roll your eyes. “You Rats better watch yourselves, especially tonight, you hear me?” 

     With a final shove of your chest, the white supremacist cheerleaders turn and leave the bathroom, leaving you with one thought at the forefront of your brain. Fuck the Legacies.

Chapter Text

     As you make your way back towards your dorm to check in on Petra, you narrowly avoid getting run over by Lex on his skateboard as he hurtles down the corridor. Your back smacks into Billy as you shove yourself sideways and he comes to a skidding stop, offering you a wink and pulling you around the corner with him.

     Billy follows, and when you open your mouth to ask what the hell is going on you begin to hear a series of exclamations from all the Legacy group heads.

     You sneak a glance around the corner and catch sight of a furious Brandy Lynn, Viktor, and Willie, covered in blue ink. You stifle a snort and duck back around, offering Lex a high five before high-tailing it out of the corridor to avoid getting caught. 

     The three of you hurry off to your next lesson, and when you realize the class and remember your timetable you groan as Billy leads you into the classroom.

     Fundamentals of Psychopathy. The absolute worst mandatory class in your entire schedule, which is really saying something when it comes to the subjects you take. When you enter the room your heart sinks at the realization that the only open seats are in the aisle, and you begrudging sit down near the back of the room.

     Marcus comes in a few minutes later, sitting in the seat in front of you, and turns to talk to the Hessian next to him. “Where’s the teacher?”

     “Find a thousand dicks and suck ‘em.” Jaden (you finally remember his name, they all look alike) retorts without missing a beat, and Marcus makes a face. 

     “So many?” You almost laugh, but the classroom goes deadly silent as the doors open and your teacher is rolled in by a monk.

     “Welcome to the Fundamentals of Psychopathy.” He states in monotone, before rolling forwards among his students. He stops next to Marcus’ desk.

     “Now why would Lin enroll such a lowlife into his esteemed atelier of the deadly arts?” You watch as his words have an effect on Marcus, who calmly tilts his head as he once again assumes his practiced role of a nonchalant murderous teen.

     “You don’t know my reputation?” Marcus asks coolly, staring dead into the eyes of your teacher. 

     “Well, reputations can be deceiving. Do you know mine?” His voice makes you literally shudder as you fix your eyes on your desk. The rest of the class may find this amusing but no one frightens you as much as this teacher.

     “Um! You’re keen on astrology. Forty-one victims. No body was found.” Shabnam pipes up from across the classroom and you spare him a glare.

     “Cannibalism.” Billy mock-coughs into his cast, causing your teacher to wheel on him.

     “I would never resort to such desperate theatrics.” Your teacher states, defensively, and you internally roll your eyes – as if gaining the title of Zodiac Killer wasn’t theatrical. “Today we will be studying the murderer’s muse; resentments. No better fuel for the feast,” He looks up at Billy. “List what you despise, please.”

     “Skaters who turn into rock stars. Like Gator. He’s great, but the dude thinks he’s Prince.” Billy answers, causing half the class to roll their eyes and your teacher to actuallyspit on him before moving forwards to Viktor’s desk.

     You can tell where this is going, and your seat in the aisle makes you increasingly nervous. “Capitalism.” Viktor answers earnestly.

     “Yeah that’s hard to argue.” 

     He turns to Lex, on your row, who answers plainly, “Thatcher.” 

     “Snore.” You take a deep breath as the squeak of his wheels halts next to your desk, and your teacher turns to you with an ugly smile. You’re aware of Marcus turning half-way around in his seat, and you focus your eyes on your desk.

     “Ooh, pretty girlie doesn’t feel like answering.” Your teacher sneers, leaning in. “Come on, you must hate something.”

     You know the monk is in the classroom, you know he can’t do anything to you while chained up, so you stay silent, eyes down. He smirks and leans back. “El Alma del Diablo?” He offers, and you glance over, alarmed.

     “There it is.” He smirks, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

     “That’s not true.” You say, glancing over at the Soto Vatos kids in the corner of the class who are staring at you intently, and one of them mimics slicing their throat.

     “But of course, if the same thing that happened to you had happened to me, I’d despise that Mexican just as much, you know. Ordering such an unnecessary murder… What a waste.”

     Your nails bite into the flesh of your palm as you ball your fists tighter and stare at your desk. He must become bored of you not reacting to his taunts, and when you hear the squeak of his wheels again you allow yourself to breathe again. 

     “What about you, boy? What do you hate?” He asks, stopping next to Marcus.

      “Bullies.” He states.

     “Go on.” The teacher goads. Marcus glances back towards you as you slowly unclench your fists, revealing the self-inflicted crescent-shaped wounds, before turning to face your teacher with unparalleled conviction.

     “Tiny-dick egotists who hurt people for no reason. Make people lock their doors at night. People who make general existence worse. People like you. Fuckin’ hate people like you.” You raise your eyebrows and glance up as the teacher begins to turn towards Marcus, obviously affected by the teenager’s words.

     A monk approaches and slams his rod down on the table before the teacher can do anything, and the man sighs and turns away from your fellow Rat. “Today’s lesson was on resentments. And it looks like I got a new one. I’m just trying to picture you without feet.” 

     His threat is chilling, and as he rolls back towards the front of the room you find yourself staring at Marcus’ completely rigid back. The class continues with your teacher stating the ‘basics’ of how resentments effect psychopaths, and only when the bell rings and the monk wheels the teacher out do you allow yourself to relax fully.

     You stand and grab your bag, moving to get out of this god-forsaken-classroom, when Marcus gently grabs your forearm as you pass him. You glance down, noticing his furrowed brows and the questioning look in his eyes before anything else.

     “You okay?” He asks, finally, and you nod sharply, pulling your arm away gently.

     “He just gives me the creeps.” You give as an excuse, and Marcus tilts his head ever so slightly, letting you pass. You shake off the skin-crawling feeling induced by the classroom, and head to the library for your free period.

     It passes relatively quickly, and soon it’s the end of the day and you can’t wait to be back in the haven of your dorm, away from the Legacies all buzzing about the dance and shooting you dirty looks as you walk past.

     When you get there, Petra is already standing in the middle of the room, wearing her casual clothes and applying dark lipstick. “You’re still doing this?” You ask, and she nods resolutely. 

     “Brandy Lynn told me not to. There is no better reason than spite.”

     You can’t argue with her answer as you throw your bag down on your bed, flopping down after it. “Fair enough.”

     She gets a final look at herself, adjusting her sleeves, when a knock sounds out and you sit up and glare at the door. “I bet it’s loverboy.” You mutter, and you offers you a middle finger before opening the door. Viktor is there, in a suit, and he smiles upon seeing Petra’s face.

     His eyes move past her and fall on your stone cold glare. “Anything happens to her and I’m going to castrate you, got it?” You say, and he scoffs before offering his arm out to Petra.

     The two of them move to leave and you call after them, “I’m not kidding!”, as the door slams shut behind them.

     You try to focus on your work, you do, but something feels off to you. Like an annoying itch in an unreachable place, you can’t let go the feeling that tonight is a bad idea. You sigh, changing into your own clothes so none of the monks get alerted by a uniform, and creep down towards the dance.

     Just as you’re trying to figure out a way in without alerting the monks or the Legacies, you see Petra and Viktor enter the girl’s bathroom at the end of the hall. You narrow your eyes as only Viktor leaves, quickly heading down towards the door and trying the handle. 

     Locked, damn it Petra.

     You knock hesitantly on the bathroom door. “Hey, Petra?” You ask, glancing around the corridor as you try to avoid being seen by the monks. “Come on, I just want to talk–”

     The door is yanked open roughly, and a bony hand grabs your forearm and tugs you inside. You know instantly that this isn’t Petra, as your eyes fall on the pastel fabric of your assailant’s dress, and in a flash, you have your pocketknife in front of you.

     Brandy Lynn folds her arms, as do the other Dixie Mob girl who stands beside her. “Do you ever get sick of ambushing me in the ladies’ room? I mean, people might begin to talk.” You taunt and smirk as the other girl (Lou Anne? You can’t remember their names) tries to push past Brandy, but she holds up a hand. 

     “You know, it’s funny – I thought Rats weren’t allowed at the Legacy dance, and yet two of you showed up tonight.” She smiles smugly beneath her garish makeup.

     You narrow your eyes. “Where’s Petra?” It takes you a moment, but you spot the only closed toilet stall behind Brandy Lynn and you grit your teeth. “I swear, if you’ve done anything –”

     “Oh, relax, we’re just… Helping her with her new look.” You furrow your eyebrows with confusion just as the stall door swings open, and two other Dixie Mob members exit, gripping Petra’s arms.

      Oh, Petra. Her normally dark makeup has been messily wiped off and replaced with smudgy blue shadow, a blonde wig stuffed over her hair, and a girly yellow dress. She has duct tape over her mouth which Brandy Lynn rips off harshly.

     “Doesn’t she look good?” The southern girl smirks, and that’s it – you lunge forwards, knife out, but before you can even get close to her, the other minion has descended on you. A heel connects with your leg, her fist grabbing your wrist and turning the knife in towards you just as you manage to get a solid fistful of her hair and you yank.

     “Bitch.” She hisses, grabbing your head and slamming it face-first against the bathroom wall. Your cheekbone throbs and white tinges your vision for a moment, and you hear Petra calling your name distantly. Before you can push yourself up and retaliate, someone grabs your hair and slams your skull against the wall again. 

     Everything goes dark.

     When you come to, the bathroom is empty and your head hurts like Hell. The past few moments flood back and you force yourself to stand, ignoring the screaming of your muscles as you head towards the door.

     You push your way out of the bathroom, stumbling into the Legacy dance just to watch as Petra manages to shove her way off stage, surrounded by mocking laughter. She spots you and grabs your hand, pulling you away from the room and through the hall.

     “That was dumb.” She says, in the hallway, “You were outnumbered.” You can tell she’s trying to put on a cool exterior, and you gently put a hand on her shoulder to stop her walking.

     “Hey, talk to me.” You stop, and when she finally faces you, her face glistens with silent tears. “Oh, Petra…”

     She wipes angrily at her face, taking a deep breath and schooling her expression into impassivity. “I’m fine.” She states, pushing past you towards the Graveyard, and you sigh and jog to catch up to her.

     When the two of you exit onto the roof, the rest of the Rats turn to face you and go silent, taking in Petra’s appearance and the bruise rapidly forming on your cheekbone. Marcus’ expression goes dark when you make eye contact, and Lex narrows his eyes.

     “Jesus, what happened?” Marcus asks, coming to look more closely at your face as Petra flings her wig onto the ground. You shake your head, offering a small smile as an ‘I’m fine’.

     “It’s my own fault for being a charlatan, right?” She asks angrily, picking up a cigarette and taking a deep inhale.

     “Oh, so I’m the asshole somehow?” Billy defends, then pauses. “We were just messing with you before. It’s normal to want to be a part of the normal world, but it’s easier if accept that you don’t belong in it.”

     “Stop! I’m not gonna let them rent space in my head. Lesson learned.” Petra walks over to the wall, and Lex glances over at you before following her.

      “You just needed a reminder of why we don’t take part in that mess. You don’t need them! They are awful.” Lex says, coming to lean on the wall next to her. “You are one of ours, love.”

     “Always will be.” Billy pipes up as you stand in between Petra and Marcus, draping an arm over her shoulders and resting your head on her.

     “But you’re right to be angry.” Marcus says, glancing over at the two of you.

     “Nothing to be done about it.” Petra stares out at San Francisco, and you glance between her and Marcus. He catches your gaze, eyes flickering over the bruise on your cheek, and clenches his jaw.

     “Not by yourself.” His voice is determined, and Lex glances over in surprise. 

     “I thought you were sitting on the sidelines.” 

     “Yeah I was picking my battles. But there’s no point having friends if you’re not going to stick up to them.” He glances between the Rats. “Let’s burn ‘em down.” 

     “Like a roman fucking candle.” Billy says, and a smile tugs your lips as you have an idea.

     “I might have an idea.” The Rats turn to look at you, and you shrug. “Laundry duty has its perks.” You say, digging into your pocket and holding up the keys to the laundry room

     Before you know it, the five of you are wearing the monk robes and sneaking into the dance, blow darts tucked up your sleeves. You always found Petra’s collection of poisons made in class slightly concerning, but you’re glad to have the Mellow Yellow now.

     You spread out across the floor, silently surveying and picking out targets, before you hear Viktor screaming and realize it’s started. “Ladies and gentlemen… Mellow Yellow!” Lex announces over the loudspeakers.

     You find your target, and aim carefully at the Dixie Mob girl who fought you in the bathroom, smirking victoriously as once your dart hits her she begins to writhe around and scream about imaginary snakes. 

     “-what the fuck, man?” The familiar voice makes your blood run cold, and you glance over just in time to make eye contact with Chico, crouching over his friend barely a few feet from you.

      “Puta.” He seethes, standing and making his way towards you. You turn with your blowgun, but he knocks it out of your hand before you can even aim. You throw your hood down, helping your visibility, just as he shoves your chest and sends you to the floor.

      “Did I not get you good enough last time?” Chico asks menacingly, adjusting his cuffs, before movement catches your eye and another hooded figure comes into view.

     “Hey, que paso muchacho?” Chico turns his attention to Marcus, shoving him into the catering table, and soon the boys are busy fighting, the druglord’s son winning visibly. Chico throws Marcus to the ground, and suddenly Willie appears and shoves Chico away from landing another blow. 

     “Step off.” The FWO leader orders, standing above Marcus, and you push yourself up and stand behind Willie. You offer Marcus a hand and he takes it, standing quickly. 

     “Want a taste, bitch?” Chico threatens, leaning in to Willie, and Willie turns to look at the two of you. 

     “Bounce.” He orders, and you shake your head as Marcus steps closer.

     “And miss the disco?” His cocky smirk makes you roll your eyes and place a warning hand on his forearm, shaking your head slightly when he turns to look at you.

     “Listen to your bitch, Arguello.” Chico taunts, before turning on Willie and trying to taunt him into a fight.

     You focus on Marcus as he curls his hands into fists, glancing between the two Legacy leaders, and you jump back as Chico slaps Willie. Before the action can really get going the monks and Master Lin descend on you, halting the fight and flinging you all into the corridor to be escorted back to your rooms. 

     You and Marcus get separated from the others when you reach your corridor, and one of the monks uses his cane to shove you towards your room before turning and following Chico. 

     You know what getting smacked with a cane feels like, and the pained area on your side feels different. You pull the monk robe open, placing a hand on the side of your torso and wincing at the sharp burn that ensues.

     “Shit.” You hiss, palm coming away from your side tinged with red. A memory of one of the Dixie Mob turning your own knife towards you flashes in your mind, and you sigh. “Guess I missed that.”

     Marcus inhales sharply, hand hovering a few inches away from your side as if he wants to help but doesn’t know how. “When did that happen?” His brow is furrowed, a crease forming between them, and you lean over and smooth your thumb over it. He glances up in surprise, and you remove your hand hastily.

      “Got ambushed by homicidal Nazi cheerleader in the bathroom. I’ll be fine.” You say, pushing your hand down on your side harder to staunch the bleeding, and he raises an eyebrow.

     “You need to get a look at it, though. It could be serious.” He says, and you shake your head. 

     “I’ll be fine.” You repeat, stepping away from him slightly, and he scoffs. 

     “You’re too stubborn, you know that?” 

     You roll your eyes, moving to go towards your dorm, and he steps in front of you. “You have to let people in, sometimes.” His tone is soft, expression full of concern, and it makes you all the more irritated. 

     “This isn’t therapy. Let me by.”

     You side step, and he matches the movement, blocking the corridor. “Only if you promise you’ll go to the nurse.”

     You shudder as you think about your last time in the infirmary – the sting of rubbing alcohol, and half-hazard piece of cloth offered for you to bite down on as the nurse stitches you up while ignoring your screams. You break eye contact with Marcus and stare at the floor.

     “Fine.” You grit through your teeth, staring at the floor, and he actually breathes out a laugh.

     “You know, for a trained assassin, you’re a shit liar.” When you look back up, he has raised eyebrows and an expectant look on his face.

     “I’m not going back to the infirmary, alright?” You grit out, and his normally cool expression wavers for a moment as you move to push past him again. He reaches out and gently grabs your wrist, causing you to wheel around, ready to yell. 

     He holds his hands up quickly in surrender. “Look – that could get infected. At least let me take a look? I’ve stitched myself up plenty of times before.”

     There’s a ton of emotional baggage and loaded history riding on that last sentence, and something about his sincere concern makes your resolve weaken. You breathe out, letting your mind drift back to the throbbing pain that has started in your side, and you know that he’s right – if this cut gets an infection, you’ll be off class for a while and probably sent to the infirmary to recover.

     You glance down at your shaky hand as you peel it back from your shirt, and the crimson that coats it is frankly alarming. “Okay.” You give in, and Marcus gives you a look that says ‘Finally’.

     He settles his hand on your lower back – which is not an unpleasant feeling – as you open the door to your room. You watch his dark eyes dart over the posters on your side of the room, stopping for a moment on your ‘The Smiths’ poster before turning back to the task at hand as he settles you on the bed.

     “You have anything I could use to clean it?” He asks, hand hovering over where yours is still pressed to your side. 

     You gesture to your side-table, and when he glances underneath he finds a white First Aid Kit and quirks an eyebrow at you. “Murder school.” You explain, and he shrugs and pops open the lid.  

     You stare at his back for a moment as he digs around, and when he turns back he has an antiseptic pad in his hand. “Okay, you’re gonna have to lift your shirt.” He crouches down by the side of your bed, looking up expectantly at you, and you push down the sudden urge to brush his dark curls out of his eyes. Must be the blood loss. 

     You tug the very edge of your shirt up just the slightest, using the hand that was pressing on the wound to hold down your shirt on your stomach. There’s a line of scarlet along the top of your hipbone, and it stretches up and just under where you’re holding your shirt down.

     “You’re gonna have to pull it up a little more. I have to clean the surrounding area, too.” Marcus says, becoming exasperated, and you bite your inner cheek as you try to lift the shirt without moving your other hand. He mutters a curse, obviously frustrated, and moves his hand forwards. 

     As Marcus reaches for the hem of your shirt you grab his wrist with surprising ferocity, causing him to meet your gaze with a confused expression. He tries to move forward again and sighs as you refuse to let go of his hand. “Y/N, if this is a modesty thing, I really don’t care how much of your naked stomach I see.”  

     You swallow hard, breathing in, before finally nodding, letting go of his wrist as your own fingers shakily find the hem of your shirt. 

     After a moment, you take a breath, and pull up to just under your bra line, hesitantly watching Marcus’ face as his eyes fall on your bare torso for the first time. 

     They widen in shock, as you’d predicted, and you look down as well. Your scar runs the whole horizontal length of your abdomen, about an inch above your belly button, and would look almost surgical if not for the jagged line and raised tissue, obviously not the work of a doctor. 

     His gaze meets your again and you glance away. “Just… clean it.” You say, trying not to look at him, and after a moment you feel the familiar sting of antiseptic as he wipes away the blood.

     “You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.” He says, after moment of quiet, and you snort into the empty room.

     “I hate it.” You say, trying to suppress your emotion and yet end up teary-eyed anyway. “I hate it.” You repeat, quieter, and Marcus moves into your vision.

     “What happened?” He asks, and you wipe at your face and look down, staring at the floor for a few moments. “…Chico.” He fills in the blanks, and you meet his gaze for a moment, but that’s all it takes for him to confirm it. 

     “Motherfucker.” He curses, standing up quickly and pacing to the other side of the room. “I’m going to kill him.” He states, tone undercut with fury, and you choke out a short laugh.

     “Here you go again.” You sigh, and he turns to face you with narrowed eyes. “The knight in shining armor routine.” You try to sound bitter, pushing away the warmth that filled your heart at the idea of his caring enough to defend you.

     “He’s a misogynistic brutish asshole who goes around abusing his girlfriend and,” Marcus gestures towards your torso. “Torturing people who won’t defend themselves!”

     “I can defend myself fine.” You retort, and he rubs a hand over his face with a sigh.

     “That’s not what I meant.”

     “Look, I get it, okay? You joined barely a month ago – it’s easy to see the things Chico does and want to kill him. But just wait until you see what happens within the gangs, Marcus. You make a move on Chico, you’re making a move on El Alma del Diablo and every other Soto Vatos.”

     You notice your voice getting louder and angrier and you take a moment, breathing in deeply. “You make a move on Chico, you’ll end up dead. And I can’t–” You stop yourself. “I don’t want to lose anyone else, okay?”

     Marcus looks at you with wide eyes, obviously taking in your words and the connotations of your final sentence. You drop your gaze down to the First Aid kit next to you, grabbing a bandage and beginning to wrap yourself up with shaky hands.

     Marcus makes a noise of dissent and crouches down next to you again, taking the roll of bandage from your hands with gentle fingers. He reaches up and wipes a tear you didn’t realize you’d shed, and you grab his hand.

     “Just – please don’t get yourself killed.” You ask, and he nods, dark curls falling in his eyes once again.

     “Okay.” He finally says, voice rough.

     His dark eyes meet yours again, and his hand reaches up and cups your jaw with gentle fingers, tilting your head to scan the dark bruise forming on your cheekbone. He runs a feather-light thumb over the darkened patch, and you place your hand on his wrist as a familiar stormy look begins to brew in his eyes. 

     He tucks in the bandage, finishes dressing the wound, and stands. He moves as if to leave your room, and you look down at your hands in shame of having overshared emotion. Emotion is weakness, you remind yourself, and you basically just showed your weakest side to a boy you’ve barely known a month.

     Just when you’re beginning to scold yourself for weakness, Marcus brushes a feather-light kiss over your forehead before leaving your dorm room, the door closing gently behind him.

Chapter Text

     “Ah, shit.” You hiss, flinching away from Petra and pressing your face into your pillow as she tries to swipe rubbing alcohol on your cut. She rolls her eyes, pressing the cloth flat against your side, and you hold yourself still and try not to wince. 

     “I can’t believe you tried to take on the Dixie Mob on your own.” She scolds, re-bandaging your side, and you scoff as you push yourself up into a seated position.  

     “It wasn’t a choice,” You groan. “And, by the way, you’re welcome.” You offer her a sickly-sweet smile, batting your eyelashes, and she shoves your shoulder but smiles slightly nonetheless. 

     “Yeah, yeah, thanks for getting yourself knocked out, Rambo.”

     She gets up, tucking away the First Aid Kit, and at that moment your dorm room door bursts open and two monks push their way in, menacingly silent. Petra protests as one of them grabs her arm, the other making their way over to you and pulling you up from the bed. Your side screams in protest but you grit your teeth as the two of you are shoved into the hallway and corralled towards the library.

     The two of you sit at a desk as the monks leave again, locking the door behind them, before eventually they bring in the others. Chico gets shoved in, eyeing you with a smirk as he adjusts his cuffs and makes his way towards the back of the room, Jaden, Viktor and Saya following shortly, just as the door opens one last time and Marcus gets thrown into the room.

     He angrily pulls his arm away from the monks, making his way towards the table in front of Viktor and sitting down. “What is this?” He asks, glancing around, and Saya smirks as she turns to face him. 

      “Prolonged confinement designed for behavioral rectification. Detention.” She whispers the last word, and you roll your eyes at the dramatics. 

     “What’d you do?” Marcus asks, looking over at the Kuroki leader, and you lean in, intrigued. She glares at him, staying silent, and Marcus raises a hand in surrender, turning to face the front of the room instead.

     Viktor turns, glancing at Petra nervously, and she smugly pushes her soda can towards him. “Sip?” She offers, while you dead-eye him from next to her, and he makes an uncomfortable face while Petra smirks.

     The door opens, and you all straighten in your seats as Master Lin walks in. Here we go, you think. 

     “Master Lin!” Chico calls from the back of the room, “All due respect, this must be an oversight, because I didn’t do-” He shuts up as Master Lin glares, and you smile to yourself. “Yeah, fine. But if I’m getting hit for fighting, shouldn’t Willie’s ass be in here, too?”

     Viktor raises his hand like a child. “All Viktor did was invite rodent girl to dance.” He states, and you glare at him, picturing how good it would feel to throw the table lamp at him right now. 

     “All I did was punch a Nazi, inbred, debutante bi-” Petra is cut off by Master Lin’s cane being held at her neck.

     “You all committed the cardinal sin. You were caught.” Lin states, disappointment lacing his words as he smacks Jaden’s legs off the table. “Agoge. Spartan instruction that molded petulant Greek boys into the greatest warriors in the world. It had three basic tenets; conformity, discipline, and commitment to Sparta over one’s own interests.”

     There’s a clattering sound as Saya’s hand clamps down on her katana when a monk reaches for it. “You wanna keep that hand?” She threatens, but Master Lin grabs the katana anyway.

     “You chose your basic instinct. Rivalry.” Lin states lowly, taking the katana away, moving towards the rest of you. A monk makes their way down the aisle, grabbing things off the tables. “You will spend your weekend locked in this room contemplating my disappointment.”

     Lin stops next to your desk on his way out of the room, holding his hand out and raising his eyebrows. You sigh, pulling out your pocketknife and handing it to him. He raises his eyebrows even more, and you roll your eyes but pull the other two from your boots, placing them in his hand as well.

     Marcus makes a low whistling sound and you flip him off, resting your head on your hand as you think about the weekend ahead.

     “So, no cherry pie today, huh?” Petra says, and you groan, plunking your head down on the desk. She sighs, popping a piece of chewing gum in her mouth as the others all find other mundane ways to pass the time. Viktor, irritatingly, begins doing push-ups on top of the desks, and his heavy breathing is enough to make you stand up and make your way to the shelves. 

     You’re flipping through ‘Anatomy for Assassins’ when a slamming sound makes you whirl around as Chico stands up, complaining about Lin, and you roll your eyes and plop down on an empty table, swinging your legs. 

     The monks bring in the box of food for the weekend, and naturally, you all devour it in a matter of minutes. Crumbs are scattered everywhere and everyone is back in their seats when Marcus pipes up.

      “I propose we conduct an experiment. Evolve past the chimpanzee stage, and open ourselves to free love, crunchy grooves, and drinking the soul’s sweet, sweet stardust.” He puts on a drawling hippie voice and you roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. “Let’s at least pretend to like each other.”

     “Torture Town, USA.” Petra groans, and you can’t help but agree.

     “Two bags of chips for two days. That’s torture.” Jaden says, and you snort.

     “There’s enough monosodium glutamate in there to kill a rhino.” Petra comments, wrinkling her nose, and Saya finally speaks up from the back. 

     “Mmm, MSG.” 

     “The monks are gonna bring more food, right?” Marcus asks suddenly, and you offer him a wince.

     “One box per detention.” You state, and he sighs. 

     “Lucky one of my superpowers is starving.” Marcus groans.

     “What is other? Sitting on man’s horkum?” Viktor laughs, and both you and Marcus make a face at the Russian.

     Petra goes quiet, staring at her hands, before a smirk spreads on her face. You know that look. “You know if it’s junk food you desire, we could break into the vaults of Valhalla.”

     “Petra.” You state, and she smirks as she stands up and walks to the center of the room. Marcus looks at you with questioning eyebrows but you just gesture back to your best friend as she dramatically stalks up the aisle.

     “There’s a chest, this big, full of diabetes-inducing treats, among other glorious contraband.” Petra has been dying to get into the confiscation room ever since you met her, and you suddenly catch on as she continues to speak. Master Lin isn’t around. The rest of the students will probably be out. This could be your one shot. 

     “This is your brain on drugs. The confiscation room is impenetrable, man.” Jaden says.

     “Like Saya’s panties.” Chico pipes up, and the Valedictorian holds up her middle finger with contempt.

     “It’s been done, once.” Petra continues. “Lin’s cornucopia was pried open by a group of industrious detention attendees. The robbers inscribed their deeds on the rooftop.”

     “’The golden door on the secret floor.’” You finish, picturing the graffiti, and Petra smiles at you as you stand up and join her in the middle of the aisle.

      “I bet that’s where my sword is.” Saya says, standing up abruptly.

     “If anyone can do it, it’s us.” You add, looking around the room. Sure, there’s some people in here you’re not a big fan of (one person who you’d delight in murdering) but you’re all pretty talented. 

      Saya makes her way to the library doors, trying to kick them in with intermittent power-cries. Marcus looks at you, raises his eyebrows, and stands up to head towards the door. You follow him, intrigued, as he fishes around in his pocket before kneeling before the door lock.

     “You’re such a spaz.” Saya states as Marcus begins picking the lock. 

     “God, it’s so obvious.” He smirks as you lean against a bookshelf and watch him work. “You wanna get married and have babies and… Hump on the washing machine all day.” As he continues, you get a little uncomfortable, tugging at your sleeves.

     “Or you’re my pledge,” Saya cuts off his train of thought. “And I’m obligated to keep you alive, which means anything you do comes back on me. It’s like being tethered to a large, dumb thing, that is sinking, in quicksand. Hence our current situation.” She gestures broadly to the room, and Marcus stays silent, focusing back on the lock. 

     In a few seconds, he turns to face the two of you with a self-satisfied smirk, pulling the previously-impenetrable door open. 

     “I’m impressed.” You state, as people begin to file out of the door, and he smirks.

     “Magic tricks, remember?” The callback to the party makes you blush, and you push ahead to the front of the group with Petra as the boys begin to debate the logistics of Robocop.

     Somehow, the seven of you manage to sneak past the monks, and end up standing and waiting as Marcus works on picking the confiscation room lock. After a tense few minutes, the rest of you stare in awe as the door swings open to reveal a room cluttered with every contraband item imaginable.

     As angsty teens in all your rebellious glory, you all rush in and begin to dick around, putting on ancient armor and raiding boxes of weapons. “There are explosives in here. Let’s blow some shit up.” Viktor says, ever-so-eloquent, and you roll your eyes, picking up a bottle of high-quality whiskey and uncorking it. You take a swig, wincing at the burn but smirking a little bit at the smoothness. Yeah, this definitely belonged to a Prep.

     You take another deep swig before putting it down, not wanting to be the only drunk one around in a room full of weaponry. 

      “It’s not here.” Saya says, staring at a table of confiscated weapons, and Marcus frowns as he approaches.

     “Where else could it be?” He asks, and she furrows her brow. You peer over the table, face falling slightly as you don’t see any of your knives.

     “Y/N!” Marcus calls, and you turn to find him holding up a hunting knife. The handle is carved silver metal and the blade looks pristine and polished, and you raise your eyebrows as he hands it to you.

      “Look, it folds too.” He says, pushing it back down into the handle, and you smile. “Figured you might want a replacement since Lin took yours. Well, the three of yours.” He corrects himself, and you roll your eyes. “Why, exactly, do you have three?”

      “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, Arguello.” You say, tucking the knife into your pocket and picking up a wicked-looking longsword from the wall. “Too much?” You ask, twirling the sword and watching the golden handle glisten in the light, and he shrugs, backing away. 

     “Suits you.”

     You smirk, twirling it again as you make eye contact with Chico who narrows his eyes. You’d be lying if you said you aren’t thinking about stabbing him right now, and he seems to be able to tell as he does that odd over-masculine neck-crack combined with an adjustment of his cuffs. “You wanna go?” 

     “I thought we were being civil.” You state, and he rolls his eyes but loosens up slightly.

     “Just this once, niñita.” He warns, and you put the sword back on the wall, running your fingers over the other elegantly-crafted weapons. In the background, you notice Marcus and Chico begin sparring with foam-tipped weapons, and a small smile tugs at your lips – you could get used to this kind of life, just being stupid teenagers. 

     You notice Petra pouring pop rocks into a bowl and scrunch your nose up, remembering the last time she’d made you try her ‘delicacy’ and you’d thrown up over the edge of the roof. You pick up a mace, testing the edges with your finger before dropping it down onto the table with a plunk.

     “You seem like you’re having fun.” A voice says from directly next to your ear and you whirl around, almost knocking over a shelf of explosives.

     “Jesus, Marcus.” You state, steadying the shelf, and he smirks.

     “Come on. You’re surrounded by all the weaponry and junk food you could ever ask for, and yet here you are staring at the most boring items in the room.” You roll your eyes, folding your arms. “You and Saya really don’t know how to loosen up, do you?” He says, and Saya appears around the corner.

     “Or we’re just more sensible than the glucose-fueled brains of the irresponsible teenagers surrounding us.” She deadpans, and Marcus rolls his eyes. 

     “Plus, if I lose my katana my life is over.” Saya swings a throwing knife as she speaks and you step back subconsciously, eyeing the blade.

     “What do you think’s gonna happen? Lin’s pawning it? It’ll turn up.” Marcus reassures.

     “How do you know?” She tilts her head. 

     “Things always work out.” He says, smile on his face, and you narrow your eyes. 

     “Vietnam, cancer kids, Sonny and Cher, and- weren’t you homeless?” Saya lists.

     Marcus blinks for a second. “Yeah, it’s just something my dad used to say. It’s not 100% I guess. It’s probably closer to ten.”

     You glance over at Chico who’s dancing with a skeleton and wearing a sombrero, and you raise your eyebrows. “Maria’s a lucky girl.” You state sarcastically under your breath, and Saya glances over at you with narrowed eyes. You panic for a moment as she adjusts her grip on the throwing knife, before she turns and throws it incredibly close to Chico. 

     He steps back in shock, glaring at the two of you. “Nice shot.” You congratulate, and she smiles despite herself but turns sharply when Marcus tries to approach her. You step to the side, once again feeling awkward in the vicinity of their off compatriotism.

     “Misery loves company.” Marcus states, glancing between the two of you. “The second lesser-known part is, company doesn’t much care for misery.” When all he gets is a blank stare from Saya and a shrug from you, he moves over to the motorbike tucked in the corner.

     “It’s a little smaller than yours, but this is guaranteed to cheer you up?” He pretends to rev the engine, and you notice a smile tugging at Saya’s mouth.

      Before you know it, the seven of you have migrated to an empty hallway and have set up a ramp complete with a bed of deadly spikes, and Saya has the American flag and a football helmet on as she revs her engine for real. 

     “$100 says she doesn’t make it.” Chico bets, and Marcus shakes his hand without hesitation to seal the deal. 

     When she actually makes the leap, you all go crazy, cheering for her and clapping. Chico looks less-than-happy about his bet, but impressed nonetheless as she skids to a stop. “Okay, that was pretty fucking cool. Can we make it bigger?” She asks, and you glance among yourselves.

     “I think we’re out of nails.” You say, glancing at the empty box they came in, and she sighs.

     “Worth a try.” Saya gets off the motorbike, shaking her hair out and shrugging off the flag. “What else did you guys bring over?”

     You show her the box of knives and assorted weapons, running your fingers over the polished handle of a particularly beautiful bowie knife with pearl inlay. “Take it.” She says, and you smirk, tucking it into your back pocket.

     Petra groans, coming to crouch next to you. “Don’t encourage her.”

     Saya side-eyes you. “Didn’t take you for a badass.” She sweeps her eyes over you and you wink, causing the both of you to laugh.

     “I have my secrets.” 

     “You have a weird knife collection, that’s what.” Petra mutters under her breath, and you shove her gently. 

     “Three knives isn’t weird.” You scoff, and she rolls her eyes as Saya begins to fold up the flag.

     “So, what, mass extinction?” Marcus says, and you turn to listen to the conversation happening among the boys. 

     “World can’t support five billion people. That’s some science shit.” Chico argues.

     “Tio!” Jaden exclaims excitedly, pulling out a cassette, and you roll your eyes.

     “All hail Satan.” Saya deadpans.

     “The amount of fossil fuel we’re guzzlin’? Humans have got fifty years. Then it’s Mad Max time.” Chico continues, messing with a bow and shooting an arrow into the wooden paneling of the wall.

     “Hey, Petra already has costume for ending of world.” Viktor pipes up, and almost in sync you and your roommate stand up. She grabs a knife from the box whereas you pull out the one Marcus gave you earlier.

     “Hey, Drago, you remember what I said I was gonna do if anything happened to Petra at the dance?” You warn, and to your satisfaction Viktor visibly blanches for a moment before Saya holds her arm out in front of both of you.

      “Stabbing him will not make him any less of an asshole.”

     “What did I say?” Viktor holds his hands up.

     Chico puts on a cassette, and when ‘In Between Days’ by The Cure fills the room you look up in shock, as do the other Rats in the room.

     “Well it appears you have one redeeming quality.” Marcus says, obviously slightly impressed, and you raise an eyebrow. 

     Petra narrows her eyes. “The rank and vile discovers ‘The Head on the Door’ and suddenly they deserve our praise?”

      “Hey, he could have put on Julio Iglesias.” Marcus argues, and you sigh.

     “Name one Cure B-side.” Petra demands, stalking up to the Soto Vatos leader, and he makes a face at her and grabs his crotch.

     “You got your B-side right here.” Both you and Petra scrunch your faces in disgust. 

     Petra clicks her tongue. “Think I’ve made my point.” She says, turning back to look through more of the boxes.

     “This is my little bro’s favorite album.” He says, looking down at the cover art, and you narrow your eyes at the humanization of the self-made villain in your head.

     “He’s got good taste.” Marcus comments.

     “Had taste.” Chico corrects, and you look up, eyebrows raised as you take in the information. The confliction of pity and hatred makes it impossible for you to say anything or find a stance on the subject as Marcus speaks again. 

     “Oh, I didn’t know.”

     “Why would you? We? We don’t even live on the same planet.” Chico says, tossing the cassette to the ground and stalking towards Marcus.

     “We’ve all lost people.” Marcus says, and Chico smiles cynically, eyes darting over to you. Don’t you dare, you think.

     “You wanna talk about dead brothers, you can ask your perra about hers, alright?” Chico’s words make the room go quiet, causing Marcus and Saya to look at you in shock as Petra glances between the two of you. You’re startled out of your shock by the sound of the motorcycle engine revving again, and you all look over to see Jaden on the bike this time.

     You thank whatever deity for the distraction as everyone’s focus is diverted to the Hessian on the bike, without a helmet, obviously about to make the dumbest decision of his life.

     “Dude, you’re gonna break your neck!” Marcus calls out over the loud sound, and you narrow your eyes as Jaden holds his hand up to start a countdown. 

     “He’s gonna fucking kill himself.” Petra says, and you can’t help but agree with her.

     “Three. Two. One!” Jaden shouts, holding up his middle finger. Something appears in the edge of the hall, and in a slow-motion moment you watch in horror and disbelief as 

        something swings towards Jaden,

                         hits his wrist, 

                                        and his severed hand hits the floor.

Chapter Text

     There’s a frozen moment in time when none of you move or breathe or even think, just stare at the hand lying on the ground as Jaden falls off the bike, screaming. And then, in a rush of panic, time resumes its course at lightspeed and you’re left focusing on the two men in Japanese masks staring you down. 

     The six of you scramble for weapons, and in a moment, you have the beautiful Bowie knife outstretched in front of you, blade facing down for combat like you’d been taught. 

      The men advance, and all hell breaks loose.

     Saya rushes forwards with a bat, swinging viciously at the man in the red mask as the others scramble for weapons and try to help Jaden. Black Mask approaches you, and Viktor surprises you by rushing forwards with a crowbar – but in an instant, he falls to his knees, and your eyes widen with horror as his white tank top begins to quickly stain a menacing red.

     Black Mask turns on you, and you clench your jaw and begin to swing. You know you’re outmatched, in size and skill, but you start swinging anyway, with focused stabs and lunges that you’d practiced over and over.

     His katana whizzes past your side, slicing your arm ever-so-lightly, and in the second you take to glance down at the wound he slams you against the wall and kicks you in the skull, hard. Your vision swims as you register him preparing to plunge his katana down (into you, you guess) just as a figure of grey and black moves into sight – Petra.

     “No…” You groan, as she swings fast and quick at Black Mask, forcing him to back away from you and focus on her. You watch with dazed panic as he sweeps her legs out from under her. 

      She turns to crawl away and a choked scream leaves your mouth as his katana moves through the air and sinks into her shoulder. She cries out, and in that moment, you find the strength to scramble up and move over to her as Black Mask hones in on Chico. 

     “Run!” Saya calls, abruptly, and you’re glad to follow that instruction. You lean down and help Petra up, ignoring the cry she lets out as her shoulder moves. Everyone rushes past you, and you move Petra’s arm over your shoulder and prepare to move together.

     Marcus appears, right next to you, and as you turn and sprint down the hallways he supports Petra on her other side. 

     “Hey! Hey! We need help!” Chico calls, skidding to a stop in front of the Monks’ room. Before you even reach the room, you can tell by his face that they are dead.

     “Go! Go!” Saya urges.

     It’s an insane rush to get to the library as you try to focus on the floorboards ahead of you instead of the Japanese assassins close behind and your best friend practically bleeding out on your shoulder.

     Viktor reaches the library first, falling to the floor, and you practically throw Petra into the room as soon as you spot the doors open. Marcus and you both stop, turning just in time to watch Chico throw Jaden to the floor.

     The knife embeds itself in the back of Jaden’s head in slow motion.

     You only snap out of it once Saya and Marcus have both grabbed your arms and pulled you backwards into the library, slamming the doors shut. You can’t look away, can only stare at the wood paneling in front of you as the moment the knife hits him replays in your brain.

     “You… You killed Jaden.” You hear Marcus, and turn to find him advancing on Chico.

     “Fuck Jaden! Another second they would have been in here hacking us to pieces.” Chico replies, eyes narrowed, and you open your mouth but nothing comes out. 

     “The hell is wrong with you?” Marcus asks what you would have, had you had the words.

     “We got no first aid, Marcus! He was a dead man! You don’t wanna like it but I saved us!” As the words leave Chico’s mouth you clench your fist, thinking about the look in Jaden’s eyes when- you cut that thought off.

     “Y/N…” A weak whimper pulls you away from their conversation. “I can’t feel…” Petra slips off the desk, falling to the floor, and your heart stops.

     “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” You find yourself saying, rushing over to her and helping her sit up properly. You shrug off your over shirt, balling up the fabric and pressing it to her shoulder as you desperately try not to look at the wound or the crimson coating her hand. That’s not gonna hold, you think, remembering your first aid classes. 

     Saya, ever the planner, rushes over with the American flag and begins to tear a strip off. The cry that Petra releases when you press the strip down makes your eyes water, and you hold her hand tight as Saya ties the knot.

     A hand holds your shoulder, grounder and reassuring, and when you glance back you find Marcus standing there with determination on his face. You put your other hand over his, offering a weak and watery smile.

     A banging sound reverberates throughout the room, as well as Japanese shouted through the door.

     “We’re gonna die in here.” Chico mutters, and you whip around. 

     “No one’s dying.” Marcus says, and you squeeze Petra’s hand.

     “Are you blind? They’re fucking dying! The monks are slaughtered! We’re trapped! No weapons! No nothing!”

     “Shut up!” You shout, turning towards Chico. “We’re not dying in here.”

     “We can make a barricade. Okay, we’ll wait them out!” Marcus says.

     “Do you think a couch is gonna slow down those terminators?” Chico shouts, and you tear yourself away from the argument as Petra squeezes your hand.

     When you turn to her, she tugs her lips into a tight smile, her skin paler than usual, and it hits you. The first few tears burn as they streak down your cheeks, and she makes a noise of protest. “Don’t be a baby.” She groans, and you wipe at your face messily. 

     “You’re gonna be fine.” You state, and she leans on you and nods.

     “I’d better – I didn’t get my milkshake today.”

     You choke out a laugh that sounds more like a sob and nod, moving your hand over her shoulder and pressing down.

     “Ow! Shit!” Petra hisses.

     “You have to keep pressure on it.” You state, matter-of-fact as you shut down the overwhelming despair threatening to hit you.

     “Hey, maybe we can both have dope scars now.” She says, and you smile tightly as she puts her hand over yours on her shoulder. 

     A crashing sound pulls you away and you turn to find Chico pulling things off the shelves, cursing in irate Spanish.

     You glance up at Marcus as he stands next to you, and you slowly move Petra’s hand over where you were pressing down and stand to face him. His dark eyes move over your cheeks and you self-consciously wipe at them with your sleeve, hyper-aware of the blood on your hands.

     “What now?” You ask, trying not to let the panic seep into your words.

     His look is less than reassuring, and you clench your jaw and take a deep breath in as you glance around the room. “We gotta find a way out.” Marcus says, after a moment, and you nod sharply.

     “How?” A bitter laugh escapes you as you glance down at Petra who grows paler every second as she slumps down against the desk.

     Marcus grabs your shoulder, squeezing, and after a moment he pulls you into a hug, hand in your hair as your tears soak into his shirt. “You’re okay.” He says, and although you’re anything but, it’s enough to make you begin to breathe again.

     He pulls away, looking into your eyes, and when you offer him a small smile he moves away. “Wait – where’s Chico?” He asks, and you look around the room. Saya moves next to you, and the three of you inch over to the corner of the room. 

     There, in the wall panel, is a vent with the cover pulled off. Saya instantly crawls in, and Marcus moves to follow, but you step back. “Come on.” He says, and you shake your head.

     “I can’t– I can’t leave her.” You explain shakily, and he glances over at Petra before nodding and climbing in the vent as well.

     When you return to her and move to sit down, she swats at your leg weakly. “Go.” She states, and you frown. “Go get help.”

     You open your mouth to protest but she gives you a signature Petra look and, even in this situation, it makes you shut your mouth.

      What help are you gonna be here anyway, you think, and turn to look back at the vent with furrowed brows.

     “Go!” She repeats, and you turn to follow Marcus.

     “Stay awake for me, okay? Milkshakes.” You say, and she nods.

     “Milkshakes.” It’s a promise, and it’s enough to prompt you to climb in the vent after Marcus.

     When you climb out, you find yourself in a concrete hallway covered in dust. The lights above you flicker and you attempt to repress a shudder at the horror movie that has become your life.

     You open your mouth, about to call out for either Marcus or Saya, when you get a chill up your spine and footsteps sound out behind you.

     You duck around the corner, clapping a hand over your mouth and holding your breath. You hear a thump, as if someone had hit the floor, and then the grunts of a fight. The struggle ends, meaning one thing – Saya lost. One of the men in masks speaks in Japanese, and you shove your body further into the tiny corner as footsteps come close.

     They pass.

     You only let yourself breathe out after at least a minute of silence, ensuring that they have left. When you finally leave the tight hiding space, your heart stops at the sight of Marcus’ limp body on the ground.

      “No…” You mutter under your breath as you approach him, knees hitting the cold concrete suddenly as you crouch next to him. 

      “Marcus?” Your voice quivers as you reach a hand over and shake his shoulder.

      “Nnh…” He groans, turning over, and you breathe out a teary sigh of relief. “What…” 

      “Saya. They took Saya.” You say, and he opens his eyes with a start, sitting up suddenly. He groans and clutches his head as you put your hand on his back, supporting him as he moves to stand.

      “Are you okay?” He turns to you with those earnest dark eyes, and you follow his gaze to the red spreading across the side of your shirt.

      “I think they opened my cut. I’m fine.” You assure, but his brow remains furrowed as his eyes glance over the rest of you.

      “And this?” His hand hovers over the dark stains on your sleeve, and you shake your head.

      “Not mine.” 

     With a start, you think about your best friend bleeding out in the library, and the Valedictorian who just got carried away by Kuroki assassins.

      “We have to go.” You grab his arm, turning back towards the vent and crawling in. When you exit in the library, your heart pounds at the sight of Petra and Viktor lying prone on the library floor, surrounded by a pool of menacing scarlet.

      “Oh God…” Marcus breathes out, and you desperately hold back the rush of tears threatening to overtake you as you sprint over to Petra.

      Your hands shake as you hold them out in front of their noses to feel for breath, heart pounding erratically.

      “They’re breathing!” You exclaim tearily.

      “What do I do?” Marcus asks, and you shake your head, grabbing Petra’s limp hand and squeezing.

       “Go – get Saya. Get help.” You wipe at your cheeks with your sleeve, placing yourself in between the two limp bodies and sitting down.

      Marcus pauses, hesitant to leave you in your current state, but the thought of what the Kuroki have in store for Saya drags him away from his inclination to stay. He nods, decisively, shoving the couch away from the library doors, and you call out.

      “Marcus? Stay safe.” He nods again, and then disappears out the doors.

      You school your breathing down, hand pressed over Petra’s shoulder and Viktor’s stomach as you hum quietly to yourself to try and calm down.

      You hum a song to yourself, looking down at Petra’s pale face contrasted by the dark pool of red that spreads around her head, almost like a halo.

      By the time the paramedics arrive, you’ve almost made your way through a good four or five songs. The doors burst open, men in uniform wheeling in gurneys, and you numbly feel yourself being pulled back as the paramedics get to work.

      Marcus stands behind you, a hand on your shoulder as the gurneys are wheeled out, and you stand right behind Petra’s – the rest of the school has gathered in the hallway at this point, pointing and whispering, and as soon as you see Petra safely loaded into an ambulance (and have threatened the paramedic over her safety) you make your way up to the Graveyard.

      The pack of cigarettes you left up here is waiting for you, and as you go to take one out you stop and stare at the red that stains your fingers and the white paper of the cigarette as you pull it out. You focus on the glittering skyline as you move to grab your lighter only to remember it had been in the over shirt you’d taken off to staunch the blood flow.

      “Need a light?” A voice asks from behind you, and you don’t even turn as Marcus moves to come sit next to you. He pulls out a lighter, lighting your cigarette for you, and you nod at him once, still mostly numb.

      “Are you okay?” He asks after a few moments of hazy silence, and you blow out a cloud of smoke and sigh.

      “No. No one ever is, though, here.”

      Marcus glances over at you with his eyebrows furrowed, obviously wanting more but too hesitant to ask for an elaboration. You try to swallow, try to not get choked up as you place the cigarette on the wall and watch the glowing embers glimmer in the darkness.

     “His name was Lucas.”

      When you glance at Marcus again his brows are even more drawn together, and you take a shaky inhale. “My brother. His name was Lucas.”

      Marcus’ eyes widen, pity and sadness flickering over his face in rapid succession as he remembers the secret spilled earlier.

     “He was such a smartass, and so over-protective, and– Anyway,” You sigh, wiping away the tear that spilled down your cheek. “When Dad died I was 12 and he was 14. We never really knew Dad, he was always gone on work trips and when he died we just… Kept on going, or whatever. No one showed up, nothing changed after he died.” 

      “So one night, we’re in the kitchen and Lucas is making grilled cheese sandwiches… And the door bursts open and Master Lin is just standing there. Tells us that Dad was part of some secret league of assassins or something… And he brings us here to ‘continue the legacy’.” 

      “We could have been part of the Preps, but we didn’t want to, you know? Petra and Lex and Billy were already here, so we just… Joined the Rats. But apparently the Legacies didn’t like that – especially Soto Vatos. I don’t know what it was, but… I became a new target.”

      “So, one thing leads to another, and Lucas finds out about the hazing. He was furious. Found a bruise on my arm and lost it. Stormed out into the hall to find Chico and ‘finish it’. I waited in his room for… Hours.”

      “It got so late. I think… I think I already knew. I go around the whole school looking for him. When I found him… He was in the alley outside. They gutted him.”  

      “But he wasn’t alone. There was this man… He had a bandana around his head and he was holding a knife. It was… it was dripping with…” You shake your head as your throat closes before the end of the sentence.

      “Tells me that El Alma Del Diablo sends his regards. Watches as I fall, watches as I scream over Lucas, telling him to wake up, and then he just leaves.”

      Marcus is silent, his heart aching with each new detail you unveil as you stare out emptily over the San Francisco skyline, the sickly yellow glow cast from the windows covering your face. You take a shuddering breath, eyes refocusing as you move your gaze to the floor.

      “I knew who El Alma is. Everyone does. So I go to find Chico – I don’t remember much. All I could think was that if El Alma was going to take away everything that mattered to me, I’d take away his son.”

       You let out a bitter laugh. “Of course, I was 13. I didn’t know how to fight. I find Chico and his gang and I just start swinging. I’m pinned down in less than a minute. He pulls out his knife. He wanted to make give me a scar to ‘match my brother’. ‘Something to remember him by’, he said.”

      You look back up at Marcus, eyes glassy with repressed tears, and swallow hard. “He knew where to cut me. Knew exactly how Lucas had been killed. But if I make a move again I’m not gonna make it out alive again.” 

      Marcus clenches his jaw, thinking of the day he’d spent jovially sparring with the leader of the Soto Vatos, all while… He shakes himself out of his spite-fueled reverie. “I’m sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I know that’ll never be enough, but… I’m so sorry.”

      You offer him a sad smile, and in that moment he swears you still look like a child, sad and lost and innocent. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, and as he grips the brick wall underneath him so hard his knuckles go white, he gently presses a kiss to the top of your head.

     Amongst the chaos and the tragedy that swarms around the school and its pupils in droves, Marcus and you find a quiet moment of solace together as he wraps an arm around you, focused on the city lights and things other than murder and assassins.

      You smile gently. “Lucas would have loved you.” You feel Marcus smile into your hair.

Chapter Text

When Marcus comes to find you early on a Tuesday morning, you’re up on your perch in the Graveyard, feeling a semblance of normality after the insanity of detention the previous weekend.

     He comes and sits next to you, wordlessly, and you rest your head on his shoulder as he recounts what Billy had told him. The call from his little brother, and finally the grand plan to drive to Vegas and kill his dad. Billy had told you about his dad before – it had become hard to hide the third time he came back from a weekend at home with a black eye.

    Marcus isn’t surprised when you vehemently insist on coming along. “Rats stick together,” you say decisively. Billy had been there for you after Lucas’ death – you sure as hell are gonna be there for him during this.

     And so, a ragtag group that you deem the ‘Vegas Gang’ begins to assemble itself over the course of the week. Saya, Willie, and Maria all join after Marcus introduces a road trip to Las Vegas – they really don’t need much more than an excuse to go get high in Vegas.

     Willie joining surprises you, but you can see the bond forming between him and Marcus even if no one says anything about it. It’s kind of sweet, you think.

     The week crawls forwards, agonizingly slowly, before it’s finally Saturday morning and the six of you are piling into the car – whose, you have no idea – and making your way onto the highway headed for Nevada. The sky is still dark, a navy hue that surrounds you all in inky darkness.

     You lean your head on Maria’s shoulder, wedged in between her and Willie, and try to fall asleep for a good few hours. By the time you’ve given up, you’re still hours and hours away, and you focus on the horizon line and listen to the others as they talk.

     The car goes quiet after a little while, and you lean forwards from your spot in the backseat in order to rest your chin on Marcus’ seat, next to his headrest. He offers you a sideward glance, eyebrow raised, and you smile at him.

     “Don’t suppose you brought any cigarettes, did you?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes.

     “I hate to disappoint your concerning mainstream-media-fed addiction but no, I didn’t.”

     You make a face. “Who said my addiction was ‘mainstream-media-fed’?”

     “Everything is mainstream-media-fed. You can’t escape it. The food you eat, the things you watch or listen to or enjoy in your free time are all designed and created to sell you something or make you into another white-bread capitalism-feeding machine cog that grinds the gears of America and makes rich assholes even more money.”

     There’s a silence after Marcus finishes, in which you blink and stare at the road up ahead. After a beat, you narrow your eyes. “Marcus, you smoke.”

    He smirks, turning to face you. “I know. Can’t escape it, you know?” You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder, causing him to let out a short laugh and turn back to you, waggling his eyebrows.

     You become suddenly aware of how close your faces are, noses practically touching, and your eyes flicker between his dark eyes and his lips, an echo of a memory flashing in your head – bathroom tiles, the countertop digging into your side, your hand in his hair – before you blink and draw back a little too quickly for subtlety.

     “Okay, but I’m allowed to like bands and stuff even if they’re ‘mainstream’,” You make finger-quotes around the word. “Because I found them on my own, and I’ve made my own opinions about them.

     Marcus sighs. “You’d like to believe you formed your own opinions around them, but you probably accepted whatever opinion was stamped out and fed to you.”

     “Okay asshole, give me a band you like.”

     His ears go a little pink, and you smile at the sight as he purses his lips. “…The Smiths.”

     “Ha!” You burst out victoriously, then lower your voice again when Saya actually physically shushes you. “I knew it. Hate to break it to you, Mr. I-Only-Like-Obscure-Things-And-Being-Snarky, but The Smiths are popular.”

     He scowls a little at you, though you can see the amusement in his eyes from the nickname. “Hey, you like them too.” He retorts. At this, you frown slightly, and he lifts an eyebrow. “Your posters.” He fills in, and you’re reminded suddenly that he’s been in your bedroom.

     “Oh, of course. Uh, yeah, but I never made the bold claim that everything popular is basically cattle-feed for humans,” You pause, eyes skimming down over his scar and his cheekbones. “Besides, ‘Bigmouth Strikes Again’ is so good. Easily their best song.”

     Marcus raises his eyebrows, looking offended. “Uh, no, ‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’. Obviously.”

     You smack his arm. “That’s their most popular song, you hypocritical elitist!”

     He laughs, and though you reel back at the audacity, the sound creates a warm fuzzy feeling that builds in your chest and threatens to burst should he smile at you again. Which, of course, he does, turning to you with his lips curled into a smile as his eyes trace your facial features before stopping over your lips.

     Your breath hitches, the ball of warmth and joy moving up into your face and causing your cheeks to heat and your lips to curl into a smile of their own volition. When he leans in, ever-so-slightly, and you reciprocate, the background noise of the tires against the concrete road fades away as your lips touch.

     This is so much softer than your last kiss – you flush as the memory resurfaces – a simple pressing of lips and sharing of emotions as his hand reaches over and cups your cheek, yours balling in his shirt.

     “Can you guys at least wait until we get to our hotel rooms?” Saya scoffs from beside you, and you break apart quickly at the reminder of your surroundings.

       The rest of the drive passes pretty quietly, with your head leant on Marcus’ shoulder and your eyes on the horizon line in the distance as the sky lightens. It reaches midday, and you know you still have a little while to go before Las Vegas, when Saya turns the car.

     When the car begins to pull into the parking lot of ‘Creepy Daniel’s Hideaway Bar’, you glance around in confusion. “Hey, uh, what the fuck?”

     “You guys smell that body odor and self-righteousness?” Billy pipes up, and you glance over at him. “This can only mean one thing: we’ve entered into the dank domain of the hippy.”

     “Yo – I signed on for a road trip to Vegas. Maybe have some laughs, meet some fly girls. What is this shit?” Willie questions, glancing at you, and you shrug as the car pulls to a stop.

     “Please don’t tell me you’re a deadhead. Please.” Marcus leans over to Saya as she pulls the keys out and turns to address you all.

     “Hippies congregate here when they’re not following Jerry Garcia’s foul taint around.” The car remains silent as you all furrow your brows, still not understanding the pit stop as Saya gets out of the car.

     Upon seeing your confused expressions, she scoffs. “Hippies have drugs.”

     The clarification causes exclamations of “Oh” and “Ah” as you all try to exit.

      You eagerly clamber over Willie – ignoring his protests – and out of the car in order to stand and stretch your body out, eyes closed. The sunlight feels warm on your face, and Marcus offers you an amused half smile when you finally crack open your eyes.

     “Next time, we take two cars, or I at least get shotgun.” You grumble, suddenly self-conscious, and he laughs.

     “Since when do you partake?” Billy asks Saya, and she smirks wolfishly.

     “I grew up as Yakuza. I managed a champagne club before I was thirteen. Hardcore, not some rookie-hour baby bullshit you pansies get up to.”

     She goes serious suddenly, glancing between you all. “Give me your money. You can’t trust these crunchy fuckers.”

      “You don't think I can tell if someone is selling me bunk drugs?” Marcus scoffs, glancing around at you all.

       “Mm-mm.” Maria, Saya and you all make a noise of dissent at the same time, shaking your heads. Marcus raises his eyebrows.

     “Let me deal with it.” Saya says, and he shakes his head as he pushes off the car.

     “Yeah, we'll take care of our own score.” Marcus isn’t one to give in, it seems. Saya flips him off, walking backwards.  

     “Your funeral.” You say finally, and he flips you off with a smirk on his lips.

     Maria grabs your arm and pulls you along with her into the musty bar, the smile on her face much too bright for someone who just spent hours crammed in a car with five other teenagers.

     “We are going to get some coke.” Maria whispers conspiratorially, mouth coming close to your ear so that the whole bar doesn’t hear.

     “Are we now?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you glance between the two girls – ever the polar opposites of each other, evident today as Saya offers a singular nod and glances over to Maria, who is practically bouncing up and down.

     Approximately ten minutes later, you find yourself in the women’s bathroom as Maria makes neat lines of coke on a tiny mirror she pulled out of her pocket, a rolled-up dollar in hand.

      “I won the mirror at the state fair throwing balls at a toothless meth head. Perfect, right?” She says, coming up from inhaling a line, and Saya nods with a smile.

      “It really nails the shitty dive-bar coke-break ambiance.” Saya takes the dollar from Maria, leaning over for her turn. She makes a face as the drugs hit her, before letting out a childlike giggle you never thought you’d hear from the sullen Valedictorian.

      “Come on, your turn.” Maria says, gesturing to the mirror, and you hold your hands up with a tight smile. 

      “I’m, uh, I’m all good.” 

      She lets out a gasp, shocked by the very idea of someone not wanting to do drugs with her, and you roll your eyes and gesture down towards the neat lines. “But hey, more for you guys, right?” 

      At that, both girls seem to take that as a valid response and turn back to each other. Saya comes up from doing another line, glancing between you and Maria with a grin. 

      “You are so my best friends. Do you know that?” Her high-pitched tone is almost as shocking as the content of her words, and you raise your eyebrows at your involvement in that statement.

      “Oh, totally! You're so goddamn cool!” Maria exclaims without any hesitation, reaching forwards and cupping Saya’s cheeks with a grin.

      “You’re not so bad yourself.” You find yourself smiling, and both girls offer you a grin as they get back to finishing what’s left on the mirror – broken up only by high pitched squeals or Maria rubbing the remainder onto her teeth. 

      By the time they both grab your arms and leave the bathroom, they are both giggling and almost skipping their way over to the table where you spot Marcus and Willie, both looking pretty bored.

      “Ready to have the best fun ever?” Saya asks, plopping down and thus dragging you down into a seat next to her. Marcus raises his eyebrows at the girl’s excited tone, locking eyes with you, and you shrug.

      “Damn skippy.” Willy says, and you let out a short laugh. 

      “You’re so uptight all the time.” Maria exclaims suddenly, leaning over at Marcus but also glancing towards you. “Have fun. Unwind, Marcus, be yourself.” She reaches over and ruffles his hair.

      “I- Yeah, okay.” Marcus seems at loss for how to deal with high Maria, instead indulging in her over-joyful whims.

      “I want this to be fun.” She punctuates each word with a jab to his chest, before turning to look at you with narrowed eyes and smacking your arm hard. “You too, Y/N. You’re too serious.”

      As you rub your arm where a sore spot is developing – that girl is way stronger than she looks – Maria promptly turns her attention back to Marcus, resuming her finger jabs. “I want to have fun with you, guapo. Do you want to have fun?”

      “Sure. Usually fun has less aggressive chest poking, or none.” He looks over at you for support as she taps him on the face and you stifle a laugh, raising your hands and shaking your head. 

      “We found a guy with some real primo shit,” Saya says, determination resuming its normal place on her features. “Give me your money.”

      Marcus makes a sheepish face, scratching his forehead, and Willie grimaces. 
      “Marcus…” You start, but Saya seems to have taken this as a personal assault.

      “I warned you. About these crunchy hippies and their bunk drugs and you didn’t listen to me. And now you’ve thrown all your money away.” 

      Marcus, once again, looks over to you for help, and you sigh and turn to Saya. “It’s not the end of the world-” 

      “Wasn’t that a Mother Goose tale?” Maria cuts in, and you roll your eyes. The Latina is hyper enough sober. 

      Saya contemplates for a moment. “Nnn… Well, Maria and I got enough for the two of us. But you, the little piggy who built his house with bunk drugs, gets to enjoy the rest of the trip sober.” 

      You make a face. “I mean, would spending the trip sober really be the worst thing in the world?”

      “Yes.” Marcus, Maria, and Saya all say in unison, and you raise your eyebrows and lift your hands up in surrender. 

      “Okay, geez.” You sigh, placing your hands back on the table. Never underestimate teens and their desire to get high, you guess. Marcus taps you on the hand, motioning towards the bar with his head.

      “We’ll see.” He holds up his fake ID and gets up, making a beeline towards the dingy display of alcohol bottles.

      You stand up, catching Saya’s raised eyebrow. “Someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.” You justify, and she nods. 

      When you make it up to the bar – with two Pegasus statues over the top, interestingly enough – Marcus has already handed over his fake ID. 

      The bartender seems unimpressed, a look of amusement on his face as he compares the ID to its holder. “You’re serious, right?” He questions, about to laugh, and you sigh.

      “Can I get a beer?”

      He looks over at you, eyes narrowed, and you sigh and pull your shirt down ever so slightly with a smile, reaching into your jeans and pulling out a few dollars. “Please.” You add, just for show.

      When the two of you return to the table, a beer in your hand and Marcus empty handed, Saya offers you a high five and laughs at Marcus. “I’d offer to help but I know you’d prefer to score for yourself.”

      “Can I get some of that?” Marcus gestures to the bottle, and you pretend to think for a few seconds.

      “Nope.” You say with a grin, and he narrows his eyes and makes a face.

      And then, as you’d been taught by Lex in your second year at King’s, you down the bottle in less than ten seconds, half-bowing as the table whoops. 

      “Where’d you learn to do that?” Marcus asks, eyebrows raised, and you wipe the corners of your mouth and smile at him. 

      “It’s a secret.” You whisper conspiratorially, offering him a wink, and he laughs just as some hippie in overalls approaches the table. Marcus’ scoffs, smile dropping, and you glance between the two. 

      “Hey hey, I heard you kind folks are looking for some doses. I got some real good windowpane blotter for you, my little sun stars, that’ll get you centered so you can experience this harmonious trip on starship Earth.” 

      The hippie seems… Nice, you guess, and when you glance at the other girls they are both gazing up at the man in a friendly manner. The boys, on the other hand… 

      “Get out of here with your bunk drugs, jelly hippie.” Marcus says disdainfully.

      “Wow, you need to chill way out, man!” The hippie says, and Saya turns and nods mockingly at Marcus with a smirk stretching her lips.

     “This stuff is good. It’s real, uh, visual. Hey, I’ve got ten hits right here. So you try them out, and if you like them, I’ll come back, and then maybe you can buy some.” The hippie slaps a sheet of acid tabs on the table, smiling at you.

     Maria and Saya both eagerly grab at the sheet, taking a hit each, before you notice Saya shoving one in Willie’s mouth despite his protests.

     Maria’s hand shoots towards your mouth, but you catch her wrist and give her a warning look as you stare at the tab in her fingers. “Maria, I love you, but if you make me do drugs I’m never going to forgive you.”

     Your words are cool but serious, and she makes a pouty face before dropping the tab on the table.

     “No worries, guys, we’ve already been burned once today,” Marcus says, a dangerous look in his eyes as he leans forwards and glares at the hippie. “Fuck your sham drugs.”

     And with that, he puts the whole sheet of acid hits into his mouth.

     “Woah, well, good luck man.” The hippie says, incredulity in his features, before turning and walking off.

       You gasp sharply, turning to slap Marcus on the arm. “You idiot! That was seven hits.” 

     Marcus stares blankly for a moment. “It… It was probably bunk, right?”

     Maria laughs. “You better hope so.”

     You don’t laugh, watching Marcus’ face for the incoming signs of the trip he’s about to experience. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

     “You said that already.” He says, but you can tell he’s feeling a little nervous.

     You really hope those were bunk, but when you find yourself crouched in front of Saya’s car not even twenty minutes later, you know your wish was too hopeful.

      “The digital mountains are coming for me!” Marcus exclaims, hands clutched desperately around his arms as he cradles himself and rocks back and forth. You sigh, exasperated, and move from a crouch into a kneeling position to ease the discomfort building in your knees.

     “The mountains aren’t coming for you, Marcus. You’re safe.” You try to reassure, but he shakes his head frantically in response and continues to stare past you with eerily blown pupils.

       This is going to be one long road trip, you think to yourself, laughing to yourself as you realize the pun behind the word ‘trip’. Your laughter dies out as you glance around the group and realize you’re the only sober person there.

      Ah, shit.

Chapter Text

      It’s only when you make a move to get into the car do you stop and think through the fact that your driver is currently high on both coke and acid. “Hey, Saya?” You pause, and she turns to you with a wide smile.

     “Maybe it’d be best if I drove, since I’m-”

     “If you get behind the wheel of my car I will dismember you.” Saya states coolly.

     You raise your eyebrows, checking for any signs of humor, but Saya’s face is stone cold and her eyes are hard and defensive. You raise your hands up, backing away from the door and she smiles at you and lets herself in.

     You’re wedged between Willie and Maria, again, and you get a front seat show as they react to the world around them on acid. They all widen their eyes dramatically as you enter Las Vegas, and while the neon lights against the night sky are beautiful, the faces of absolute wonder and amazement seem a little over the top.

     You sigh, wondering if you should have just loosened up and taken some as well, but when you glance over at Marcus who is completely gone, you find yourself vaguely reassured in the knowledge that there’s one sober person in your group.

     Well, two, if you count Billy, but he’s had a blunt and just seems generally high on life all the time, so… Also, he’s going to need your support if you’re really about to kill his dad. Shit, you think, because you’d forgotten about that.

     By the time you’ve pulled up to the casino, made your way through the lobby and tried not to lose anyone on the way, you’re exhausted and flop over on the bed of Marcus and Billy’s room.

     Marcus stares blankly at the TV as Ghostbusters plays while Billy paces back and forth, obviously nervous out of his mind.

     “Sure, an albino god on a throne of doll heads. You’re doing great buddy.” Billy says in response to one of Marcus’ acid ramblings – he’s been saying philosophical and nonsensical things the entire trip, you’d just tuned out ages ago.

     “Where’d everyone go?” Marcus finally pipes up something other than nonsense and you groan into a pillow at the question he’s asked over and over and over.

     “To the AM/PM to get smokes and snacks and stuff. And Maria went to the pool. I told you that like six times too.”

     “Are you mad at me?” Marcus asks, glancing between the two of you, and you finally force yourself to stand up.

     “We’re not mad.” You say, glancing over at Billy, who shrugs at you.

     “What? No, dude. Just… Nervous.” You can see the nerves running through him, and you clench your jaw.

     “Why?” Marcus asks, and god, though you’re pretty sure you’re in love with him you could so murder his high personality.

     “Marcus, buddy, do you remember why we’re here?” You ask as gently as possible, and he gives you a blank look before turning back to Billy. “Awesome.” You snark under your breath as he ignores you.

     “My dad’s staying in the next room. I set a device on his door, to let us know when he gets back. Keeps it from locking.” Billy recites as though from memory, and you push yourself up to standing and move over to him.

     “Hey. You’ve done good. If you don’t want to do this, I can take care of it, okay?” You say, a hand on his shoulder, and he shakes his head quickly but pats your hand.

     “…I’m having a hard time.” Marcus says from the bed, and you roll your eyes and release Billy’s shoulder with a squeeze, moving over to collapse next to Marcus.

     “Aren’t we all, bud.”

     “My dad… He’s not all bad.” Billy says, sitting gently beside you. “There are these moments where you can see the good guy inside. Like he’s trapped inside an asshole.”

     “Didn’t he put your mom in danger and send you to King’s to pay a dept?” Marcus pipes up, and you sigh and put a gentle hand on Billy’s thigh.

     “Yeah, that’s the thing. The shitty part of him is… Super shitty. He doesn’t care who he hurts. He can’t stop himself. He just keeps digging himself a deeper hole.”

     As Billy talks your brain starts to swim, memories of the rare moments you shared with your dad when he wasn’t away on ‘business’ – which you now know was just going off to kill people for money. There’s a persistent, hazy memory, of sprawling green fields and blue skies and laughter, and your dad is there, one hand in yours, one in Lucas’, and…

     You sigh, standing up off the bed abruptly and running a hand through your hair as you make your way swiftly into the bathroom. The fluorescent light above the sink casts garish shadows across your face, and as you stare into your eyes the thoughts of what you’re about to do hit you so monumentally that you abruptly smack your cheek, snapping yourself out of it.

     Billy needs you right now. That’s all that matters.

     Speaking of, the green-haired teen pokes his head into the bathroom and narrows his eyes at you. “You still good to go?” He asks, and you nod, swallowing hard and following him out into the hall.

     You gesture questioningly towards Marcus with your head, noticing that he’s still on the bed and seemingly making no move to join you.

     “He’s, uh… He’s more out of it than I thought.” Billy explains, and you nod, allowing the room door to close behind you.

     “He’s in there.” Billy whispers, staring at the door, and you reach over and squeeze his hand.

     He nods at you, once, and then kicks in the door. The hulking man in a white tank top who turns to meet you is every bit the abusive asshole that you’d painted in your mind, and yet when Billy’s eyes are turned on you surrounded by features you don’t recognize, you freeze.

     Big mistake, of course, as he narrows his eyes and kicks you solidly in the stomach, winding you and sending you stumbling backwards.

     Billy charges, leaping onto his dad’s back with fury, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and squeezing. You take the opportunity to leap up, snatching your knife from your boot, and manage to make a decent cut on his forearm. He smacks the knife out of your hand, shrugging off (almost effortlessly) his teenage son as Billy attempts to strangle him again, and in a moment, you’re pinned to the hotel room wall by your neck.

     You struggle to gasp in air, fingers tugging at the massive fingers around your neck, as the world grows dark at the edges and your head throbs. Billy, in the background of your vision, tugs at his father, who continually swats him away.

     Billy finally leaps onto his dad’s back, again, this time getting a better grip on his neck with a belt, and that’s the moment when Marcus walks in.

     His dad finally releases you, causing you to collapse to the ground and struggle to get air as your vision returns. You hear thudding, and realize that Billy is being wailed on with a belt, as Marcus watches.

     You’re vaguely aware of the fight happening around you as you crouch on the ground, and you notice him strangling Marcus. “Motherfucker.” You rasp, standing and picking up your knife from the ground. Your vision is still swimming, and when you reel back to slam it into the man, he lunges out and kicks at you.

     He roars, and it’s in the blink of an eye that Marcus grabs an ashtray and slams it into the man’s head. He stumbles back wildly, tripping over Billy who’s lying on the ground, and your eyes widen as he slams his skull into the edge of the table.

     And then… Silence.

     Billy collapses next to his dad, wailing, and your heart lodges itself in your throat as the pool of crimson stretches out on the cheap carpet. Oh god.

     You’re barely aware of your surroundings as you register the boys lifting the body, dragging it across the carpet. “Go… I’ll…” You try, but don’t actually know what you’re going to do.

     “Uh, guys?” Billy calls from the hallway, poking his head into the room. “Marcus… He let the door close. We’re… We’re locked out.”

     You let out a groan, gingerly running fingers across your still sensitive neck. “I’ll go see if anyone else is in their rooms.” You croak out, and Billy nods.

     “We’ll go see if anyone is around. Like, downstairs.”

     You manage a nod, watching the two boys trail out of the room. You wait until they’re gone before the tears start to fall. You’re not a killer, though King’s has tried to change that. You still feel overwhelming guilt.

     A few minutes pass, and you calm yourself, moving towards the door and shutting it firmly behind you.

     You spend the next while trailing through the hallway towards Saya’s room, only to find the door firmly locked. “Saya?” You call, knocking on the door, but there’s no response. “Shit.” You mutter, sliding against the wall and sitting on the floor.

     She’ll probably be back soon, you think. After an eternity of staring at the wall opposite you, you groan and go to try to find Maria. She’ll know what to do, you think.

     You turn the corner, about to head for the stairwell, when a figure steps into your vision and you have to bite back a curse. Chico stands a few feet away, around the corner, and you bite your lip and sprint down the corridor in the direction of the other stairwell as panic tries to overtake you.

     You make it up to her floor, to her room, and fling open her (unlocked) door.

     “Maria-”

    Your breath catches as the door opens. There, on top of the bed, is Maria in her underwear. On top of Maria, however, is a very shirtless Marcus. You swallow the lump in your throat, pushing aside the shock and hurt that rises to the surface and focusing on the danger at hand.

     “Maria!” You shout, and both teens whip around to look at you with a mix of guilt and surprise. “We have to go, I just saw –”

     Marcus’ eyes move from you to the space behind you and a weight settles in your stomach. “…Chico.” You finish, barely above a whisper. Something metal smacks into your temple, and you barely register Marcus calling out your name as you crumple, hazily making out the form of Chico standing above you. Holding a gun.

     A few shots go off, and you squeeze your eyes shut and try to cover your ears from the deafening noise. You sweep your leg out, kicking Chico in the shin, making him stumble backwards into the bedside table.

     “Run!” You shout at Marcus, and run he does, leaping off the bed and towards the stairwell. Chico makes a growling sound above you, kicking your stomach, and Maria yells, running at him.

     “Heartless bitch! After everything I’ve done for you!” He roars, and aims his gun down the hall at Marcus. She slices his arm with her fan, thankfully, and he shoves her inside where she collapses near you.

     “Marcus…” She breathes out, and you manage to push yourself to your knees.

     “Get the others.” You say, pushing aside the shock and jealousy that brews in the pit of your stomach. “I’ll go after him.”

     “Y/N…” She starts, but you shake your head.

     “It’s fine. Go.” You say, and she nods, shakily pulling at the discarded clothes strewn across the ground.

     You sprint out the room, tearing down the stairwell and into the street, glancing down both ways before you notice the one shop window smashed to bits, and the shocked bystanders glancing around.

     Please don’t be dead, you think to yourself, leaping over a car roof as the car horns blare at you and you deftly leap over the broken glass frame into the store. There’s a trail of blood on the linoleum, and your stomach clenches at the sight of the old man on the floor with a bullet hole in his head.

     You tug your knife out of your boot, following the trail out into the alleyway behind the shop.

    Your heart stops at the sight of Chico looking in the dumpster, but a sigh of relief escapes as Marcus crawls out, injured but still alive.

      “Enough, Chico.” You call out, as calmly as you can muster, stepping out into the alley, and you watch him turn with a smug smile.

     “Of course I still have to deal with you, puta.” Chico drawls, and you spot the gun in his hand, aimed very directly at you. Fuck.

     “You’re not gonna kill another student. You’d get kicked out of King’s.” You state, as calmly as possible, and he rolls his eyes.

     “You really still don’t get it, do you?” He asks, and you spare a glance at Marcus, prone on the floor and covered in blood, and a shudder ripples through your body as you think about the last time you’d looked at someone you cared about lying like that-

    “Get what?” You manage to ask, and he laughs.

     You feel the shot before you hear it, weirdly. There’s a dull moment of no pain, where your right shoulder moves backwards involuntarily, and then the loud crack of the gunshot fills the air. And then, there’s the pain.

     Icy and scorching, it burns into your shoulder, the bullet burrowing into your flesh as the force causes you to stumble backwards and slam against the chain link fence. You cry out, your vision going white. You slide down until you’re sitting on the cold asphalt, and you vaguely register Marcus yelling your name.

     “Relax, homes, I didn’t kill her. I want her to see you die.”

     You grit your teeth, your left hand coming up to clench over the gunshot wound, and you manage to spit out a definitive, “Fuck you.”

     He laughs again, that insufferable sound, before walking over to you and crouching down. “The thing you don’t get, bitch, is that my father didn’t kill your precious hermano. I did.”

     Chico smirks as your face drains of color. “I didn’t want to get kicked out, so I made it look like it was my dad’s kill. And I’ll do the same to both you Rats. No one will miss you, no one will even notice you’re gone.”

      He stands up, turning back towards Marcus. “But this is personal.”

      “You were about to fuck my girl, homes!” Chico yells, full blown aggression, and you try to move away from the fence but your shoulder cries out. “One of us has to die. Do you understand that?”

     He flips the gun, placing it on the ground a few feet from Marcus. “Here. A fighting chance. A ticket to your real reputation. You get that gun, you put a hole in me! Only then you can screw my girl.” He screams.

     “Chico! Chico!” Maria’s voice sounds out from the other end of the alley, and you look over to find the ‘Vegas Gang’ approaching. Her eyes drag from Marcus’ prone body to you lying against the fence, clenching your shoulder. “What did you do?”

     “Chico man, calm down.” Willie calls out.

     “Think, you can’t kill other students. Lin will expel you. I get it man, you’re super pissed. But look at them. They’ve learned their lessons. Whatever happened, it’s just a big mistake.” You watch in horror as Chico shoves his knife into Billy’s abdomen.

     “Billy!” You cry out. 

     Saya, thankfully, catches Billy, putting her hands over his wound, and Willie seems to notice your state, making his way carefully past Chico and crouching next to you. “Ah, shit.” He says.

     “Don’t-” You bite out a gasp as he goes to put a hand on it, sticky dark crimson running down your arm.

     “I don’t know what to do.” He admits, and you swallow thickly.

     “It’s okay.” You suck in a breath as you shift slightly.

     “You’re so insecure Chico you’re gonna hurt everyone who looks at you wrong? You’re gonna kill every guy who looks at me?” Maria cries out.

     You can hear them arguing, and you try to stay focused but your vision grows fuzzy around the edges and you can feel sweat building on your face as you struggle to continue to apply pressure.

     “I love you!” Chico roars, after smacking Maria to the ground, and you vision fades back in as Willie grabs the gun off the ground and points it at Chico.

     “Don’t motherfucker. Get outta here Chico. Go! Or I’m gonna kill you.”

     “You?” Chico taunts.

     “Me.” Willie’s voice is resolute.

     “I’m terrified. ‘Cause I know all that hard-hitting gang-banger shit you get up to in Watts. Except I hear there’s rumors that Willie’s a bitch. Always sends his crew to do the dirty work.”

     Your eyes dart between the men and Marcus, and you lock eyes with him right before Chico kicks him in the head. “Stop it!” You find yourself yelling.

     “Hey, you kick him one more time and I’m gonna shoot!” Willie yells, and you clench your jaw, pushing against the pain as you try to stand again.

     “You’re gonna shoot me? Do it! Pull the trigger!” Chico taunts.

     “Do it Willie shoot him!” Saya yells from the back.

     “Do it!” Chico roars, and you can see the full-blown psychosis brewing in him.  He scoffs as Willie lowers the gun, unable to do it. “Willie can’t. People that act that hard never got the fire.”

     “Yeah? Like you, asshole?” Marcus groans from the ground.

     “You know I ain’t even worried about Lin? Because he ain’t gonna find out about any of this shit. Because I’m gonna bury every one of you pendejo motherfu-”

     Maria’s fan comes out of nowhere, a silent efficient killer as it cuts through Chico’s neck and ends his macho monologue.

     He falls to the ground, choking on his blood, and your eyes widen as you watch him bleed out as the rest of you look on in horror.

     Maria promptly crouches next to Marcus, running her hands worriedly over his face, just as Willie comes to stand next to you. “Can you stand?” He asks, still staring at Chico, and you choke out a “sure” before he reaches down and gently grasps your uninjured arm.

     You cry out as he lifts you into a standing position.

     “We need to go!” Saya says, and Willie helps you over to her. You and Billy share a look, checking in with each other with what little sanity and awareness you have left, before you’re all heading out of the alley.

     “Chico’s body!” Maria cries.

     “No time.” Willie disputes.

      You fade in and out of paying attention as you find yourself in one of the back-alley clinics you get taught about at King’s. You clench your jaw so hard you think you’re going to break something as the ‘doctor’ tells you how lucky you are that the bullet went clean through as he pours alcohol over the wound and a searing pain overtakes your shoulder.

     You all manage to get stitches and enough valium to survive the car ride back to King’s, and then you find yourself in the car again. Though this time, you share the passenger’s seat with Billy, shoved in between the two seats as it allows your shoulder to not touch anything.

     You glance in the mirror at Maria fawning over Marcus, and shove the ugly green monster that claws its way to the forefront of your mix of pain and shock, managing to take a prime seat and seize your heart.

     You tear your eyes away, turning instead to focus on the road ahead, illuminated by the lilac of the lightening sky as the events of the evening settle heavily on your soul.

Chapter Text

      You swallow thickly as your eyes dart around the darkened room, cold and stale and frankly rather horror-movie-esque. Madam Gao stands a few feet in front of you, twirling a cane in her hands as she surveys your face, dark eyes critical and analyzing.

    “That bullet wound in your shoulder – how is it healing up?” She breaks the silence, and you meet her gaze with furrowed eyebrows.

    “Fine.” You say curtly, eyeing the monks behind her as you attempt to figure out what manipulative game she is playing.

    “And how exactly did you manage to sustain that injury in particular?”

    There it is. You clench your jaw and breathe in deeply. “Like I said, I failed an assignment and didn’t manage to get away from the police before-”

    You’re cut off by your own cry of pain as she jabs the sharpened end of her cane into your (still healing) wound, tears springing to your eyes as you try not to scream.

    “More lies.” She spits out, her words coated in disgust as she rakes her eyes over you before tugging her cane back, allowing you a moment of relief as you lean forward and try to breathe through the searing pain.

    She drags the pointed tip down your chest, an eyebrow cocked as she reaches the hem of your uniform shirt and pulls upwards, revealing your scar. “You must feel quite some resentment towards the one who did this to you, hm? Towards the one whose father killed your brother?”

    You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, but she continues.

   “How did it feel to finally get revenge, to watch Chico die-”

   “No!” You shout, opening your eyes and staring at her resolutely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what happened to Chico.”

   Madam Gao narrows her eyes but remains silent. After a moment, she turns towards the Monks and gestures towards you with her head. They move forward, undoing the restraints on your wrists, and you rub your hands over the sore reddened flesh.

   “The truth will come out, Miss Y/L/N. And when it does, you’ll wish you’d told me the truth.”

   As the Monks grab your arms to escort you out, one more enters holding Maria. She widens her eyes as she sees you, and you nod at her as if to somehow convey that it’s going to be okay, that she needs to be strong, that you’re all counting on her.

   When the Monks let go of you, finally, you reach up and tentatively touch your bullet wound, wincing when a jolt of pain shoots out from it and you feel warmth where the bleeding has started again.

   It’s been nearly a whole month since Las Vegas. Madam Gao hasn’t stopped her continuous interrogations, the whole ‘Vegas Gang’ is on edge all the time, and of course… Maria and Marcus are dating.

   The last part affects you the most, weirdly enough considering the other two issues could end up costing you your life. But when you’d first stumbled upon them making out in the Graveyard your heart had stopped, eyes wide as you’d quickly fumbled out an apology and sprinted back to your room.

   Everything between you and Marcus had meant nothing to him, apparently. The kisses, the banter, that connection you’d felt – apparently it was all one sided.

    That’s what you get for getting involved with someone at this God-forsaken school, you remind yourself, slamming your locker shut forcefully as the image of the two of them pressed together resurfaces.

   And yet in the midst of your heart shattering, you’d found yourself becoming closer to Saya and Maria than before, and some semblance of a friendship group involving the Rats, Saya and Maria forming, something practically unheard of in this school.

   After a brief stop at your room to put a bandage on and change your now bloodstained shirt, you grab your pack of cigarettes and head back out before your next lesson begins.

   You make your way to the Graveyard to find a quiet place to smoke, but when you walk through the stone arch your steps falter as you notice the two figures sitting on one of the stone coffins; one with a brilliant green mohawk and the other with dark curls and a smirk that appears in your dreams.

   “-worry about that powder keg you’re dating.” Billy finishes his sentence right before he notices your presence, offering you a broad smile and instantly removing your chance of slipping away undetected.

   Marcus turns and sees you as well, expression slipping from a tight-lipped smile into… Well, you’re not sure. It seems forlorn, maybe even sad. You shake that out of your head, reminding yourself of his relationship status as you return Billy’s wide smile and make your way over to the stone perch next to theirs.

   “How’s my favorite gunshot victim?” Billy greets you, and you shrug slightly, glancing down at your right shoulder.

   “Still healing.” Your eyes find Marcus who seems to be very pointedly avoiding your gaze, and your brow creases for a moment before you notice Billy holding the joint out towards you.

   “Uh, no thank you. I’m all done with drugs after… Well, that.” You attempt a normal conversation, but your words fall flat as you bring the nightmare evening back into your present company’s minds.

   Billy nods, understanding, and Marcus stares at the ground.

   You pull a cigarette out of your pocket, trying and failing not to feel hurt at the silent treatment as you light it, taking a deep drag.

   “Hey, who’s ready for Hand-To-Hand Combat?” Billy attempts to restart the conversation, and you groan outwardly at the reminder of your next class.

   “Hey, at least Miss De Luca seems to like you. And she’s hot.” Billy comments, and you raise an eyebrow as you exhale smoke.

   “Just because she didn’t dislocate my arm when she could have doesn’t exactly mean she likes me. And hey, what about you and Petra?”

   Billy glances away, and you reach over and pat his arm.

   “She just panicked, Billy. She doesn’t know how to deal with emotions.” Your words don’t seem to be much consolation as he just shrugs.

   “Yeah, whatever. I’ve got plans to show her just what she’s missing out on, anyway.”

   “Speaking of…” Marcus says, finally, and you nod and take a final deep drag before crushing the cigarette under your foot and turning to leave.

   “See you there!” You call out as you leave, your jaw clenched as you turn the corner.

    What you don’t hear is Billy jab Marcus with his elbow and berate him with a soft yet stern, “Dude. Not cool to ignore people.”, and you certainly don’t notice Marcus watch you leave with a saddened expression.

   When class starts, you find your place beside Petra who offers you a quick once-over as you sit down – she’s been acting overprotective since you’d returned from Vegas with a bullet-hole in your shoulder and hand-shaped bruises forming a ring around your neck.

   “I don’t go on a roadtrip with you one time, and you return like… Like…” When Petra had seen you struggling to change your shirt, the first night back, she’d demanded to know what happened and berated you to the ends of the earth for not telling her.

   “Like someone tried to kill me?” You retorted sarcastically, and she had glared at you, a fierce, on-brand-Petra glare, her eyes rimmed in black and her arms crossed defiantly.

   Now, she offers you a cocked eyebrow as a check-in, and you wave her off even though your shoulder is giving you hell, post-interrogation with Madame Gao. The class begins as Miss De Luca steps dramatically out of the shadows, eyes surveying the class like a meal.

    “You are soft, boiled noodles, ready for my belly.” She starts. “Which one of you is prepared to face me?”

   Her eyes find yours, and she raises a single eyebrow when you shake your head firmly, just once, and for some reason she kindly moves on, not taunting or testing you.

    A smacking sound resonates around the room as Viktor shoves Shabnam over, an asshole smirk on his face. “If you want soft-boiled, Shabnam is your man.”

   Laughter ripples throughout the students and you roll your eyes, looking over to find Petra glaring at the Russian. You nudge her with your elbow, mimicking a stabbing motion, and her lips curl into a slight smile. It feels like a victory.

    “An opportunity, perhaps,” Miss De Luca says, standing over Marcus, “For one drug-addled, dirt-bag to prove himself?”

   “No… No way.” Marcus stretches out the second ‘no’, shaking his head dramatically, causing the teacher to roll her eyes and make a move to step away.

   “Scold me Miss De Luca. Beat me. Tell me I’ve been bad.” Billy begs, staring up at her, and you narrow your eyes at the scene, noticing Petra’s exaggerated scoff from beside you.

   “Two giant pussies. They must have menstrual cycles lined up.” Viktor comments from across the room.

   “I’d like to see you show Miss De Luca a thing or two, Vik.” Shabnam retorts, and you watch your teacher crouch down in front of the boys with interest.

   “Shabnam has a dream. Viktor, will you help him realize it?” She asks, turning to Vik, and you raise your eyebrows. No matter how cocky Viktor is, he can’t possibly believe he’d win a fight against Miss De Luca.

   He stands, but your vision is drawn back towards the other side of the room as Billy dramatically pulls out a folded paper and waves it in front of his face. “I see you wondering about this.” He says, turning to face Petra, and you sigh.

    “For the love of-” You mutter under your breath but he ignores you and continues.

   “But I’m afraid this declaration of affection isn’t for you.”

   “Oh no, where will I spit my gum.” Petra deadpans, before grabbing your arm and standing quickly, forcing you to stand too. “We just got our periods.” She states loudly, turning and leading you towards the back of the room.

   “Petra, seriously-” She gives you a glare and you shut up, rolling your eyes dramatically nonetheless to get your frustration across. In doing so, though, you manage to make eye contact with Marcus.

   He holds your gaze for a few seconds before turning and staring intently towards the front of the class, and you sigh.

   “What’s up with you and Marcus?” Petra mutters under her breath, staring at the back of his head with narrowed eyes. “I thought you guys were getting real chummy.”

   “He’s dating Maria.” Your voice is barely audible as you glance around the room to make sure no one heard, but she still raises an eyebrow and offers a ‘hm’.

   There’s a smacking sound as Miss De Luca slams Viktor down on the ground, legs entwined around his neck and incapacitating him. “The lesson: when faced with impossible odds it is better to lose face and decline, than to attempt that which is beyond you.” She finishes with a rather nasty kick to Viktor’s stomach before releasing him.

   The bell rings opportunely and you glance at Marcus’ back as he stands up, chewing your lip. You touch Petra’s arm as she gets up and grabs her bag. “Hey, I’ll join you in a second, okay?”

   She glances between you and Marcus as he turns around, eyebrows furrowed as he notices both of you looking at him. Petra drags a finger across her neck as she walks past him, and you roll your eyes as the class filters out – except for Billy, holding out the piece of paper and looking at Miss De Luca expectantly.

   “Look, I know things have been weird between us- can we talk?” You ask Marcus, and he ducks his head down and rubs a hand over the back of his neck

   “Uh, I said I’d meet Maria before the next lesson.” Shit, you’d forgotten that he was in the same Combat class as Maria and Saya.

   “Never mind.” You say, embarrassed as you duck down and grab your bag.

   “Hold on-” Marcus reaches over to grab your arm and you shrug his hand off.

   “Forget I asked. I’ll see you later.” You try to shove down the disappointment as you leave the classroom, heading straight for your bedroom.

   Petra glances up from where she lies on the bed as you open the door, eyes narrowing instantly as she takes in the disappointed expression on your face. “Do you want me to kill him? Because I’ll totally do that. He’s one of us but I’ll so kill him for you.”

   “He didn’t do anything.” You defend, flopping down on your bed and staring at one of your ‘The Smiths’ posters with a frown. “He hasn’t done anything. I have no right to be mad at him.”

   Petra sits up and rolls her eyes, reaching over and kicking your mattress. “Yeah, except kissing you twice, and you confiding in him about your brother.” I should probably stop telling Petra literally everything, you think.

   “Yeah, and now he’s dating Maria. Nothing else to it.” You avert your gaze, staring at the ceiling, and she scoffs from beside you.

   “That doesn’t excuse him ignoring you.” A pause, and then, “Are you gonna come to the thing on the roof tonight?”

   When you glance at her it’s her turn to stare and the ceiling, and you sigh and rub a hand over your face. “Yeah, I guess. You guys are gonna be there, and Saya, and… I guess.”

       Although the concept of seeing Marcus and Maria makes you feel sad, you can’t just stop hanging out with your friends, and you know that.

     “Can Lex come?” You ask after a moment, and she raises an eyebrow at you when you glance over.

   “If you want to ask him, be my guest.”

   That’s how you find yourself outside his room, a little before the ‘party’, if you can call it that, in your casual clothes. You raise your fist to knock but the door swings open before you can.

   “…Hey.” You say, confused by his scowling expression that greets you. “How did you know to open the door?”

   “Saw your shadow.” He answers, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

   “Look, I know I haven’t seen you much these past few days-”

   “More like weeks, but carry on.”

   You sigh, looking down at your boots. “Yeah, okay, weeks, and I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know it was shitty to just ignore you, but I was…”

   “Too busy yearning after Pretty Boy President Killer?”

     You roll your eyes. “That obvious, huh.”

     He sighs, reaching over and pulling you into his room by your arm before he kicks the door closed behind you. 

    “So, only here to grovel for my forgiveness, then?” He folds his arms, raising an eyebrow at you in some odd and failed attempt at intimidation.

     You roll your eyes again, plopping down on his bed. “No. What’re you up to later?”

      Lex makes a face of feigned surprise, touching a hand to his chest as he gets that mischievous twinkle in his eye.

    “Oh, darling, if that’s how you’ve felt about me this whole time, I sadly must decline your romantic advances-” He ducks as you launch a pillow at him, making a face.

    “First of all - gross. Secondly - we’re gonna get drunk in the Graveyard tonight, if you want in.”

    “Ah, but alas, I am preoccupied.” He gestures to a previously unnoticed bag of white powder on the side table. “I have a delivery to make, and a shit load of money to earn.”

    He plops down beside you on the bed, jostling you wildly. “But any other night, darling, I would.” He smacks a kiss to your cheek and you grimace, jumping off the bed and scrubbing at the side of your face with your sleeve.

    “You disgust me.” You deadpan, but ruin it by smiling as you make your way to the door.

      “Fine. Enjoy getting high with creepy crackheads!” You call in a sing-song voice as you pause at the doorframe, and it’s your turn to duck the pillow he launches into the hall.

      You kick it back into his room, smiling as it hits him in the face and bends his hair spikes.

      He pushes it off with a frown before his face shifts into a malicious smirk. “Be safe with Markie-poo later when you finally fu-” You cut him off by slamming his door shut.

Chapter Text

     You and Petra are the first two of your group to get to the roof just as the sun begins to set. She tosses you the bag of red solo cups, instantly enveloped in choosing the right cassette for the evening, while you sit off to the side and light a cigarette, eyeing up the singular bottle of alcohol Petra had brought from your room.

    “Straight up moonshine, really?” You ask, blowing out a cloud of smoke, and she looks over her shoulder at you from where she’s crouched in front of the tape player.

    “What? It’s strong, has no taste, and potent enough to kill.”

    You scoff. “Sounds like your recent taste in men.”

    She indignantly launches a tape at you, albeit gently enough that you are able to catch it without damaging the music.

     “Watch it! I like this album.” You say, looking down at the cover art.

     “Which album?” A new voice speaks, and you smile as you look up to find Billy strolling through the metal door.

     “‘I Don’t Want To Grow Up’.” You answer, tossing the tape to him, and he nods as he catches it.

     “Descendents! Nice. Why don’t we play this?” Billy asks, glancing over at Petra who simply stares at him with black-rimmed eyes. A moment passes while Billy blanches before Petra stands up and snatches it from him.

    “Okay.” She deadpans, shoving it in and pressing play. Your eyes dart warily between the two teens who both seem to be trying to avoid looking at the other, and you roll your eyes and take a deep drag from your cigarette as you nod your head along to the beat of the first song of the album that begins to play over the deafening silence.

    Soon enough, the door is opened by the first of your ragtag group of friends; Saya enters, a bottle of strawberry wine in tow, but your eyes are instantly drawn to the sling on Saya’s arm.

    “That looks rough.” You comment, making your way over to her, and she sighs and sweeps a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

    “Master Gao.” She says as an answer, eyes focused on the skyline, and your eyes widen.

    “Yikes. Was that…” You trail off, unsure how to word it. “Was it in a class, or during the questioning?”

    “Class.” She answers, furrowing her brow as she turns to face you. “Why, what did she do to you in the questioning?”

    You glance over at Petra, satisfied to find her not paying attention to your conversation, before turning back to Saya and tugging the collar of your t-shirt down to reveal the new bandages over your bullet wound. “Her cane is wicked sharp.”

    “God. And this school was hard enough, before all…” She gestures to nothing in particular, but you get the reference to the Vegas trip nonetheless. “This.”

    You hum your agreement, taking a sip of whiskey from your solo cup – you’d run down to your room to grab this alcohol, unable to stomach Petra’s moonshine.

    Petra approaches, greeting Saya, and soon the two of them are enveloped in a conversation about something you have zero interest in and have never even heard of.

    The door creaks open once again, and you look up and lock eyes with Marcus. He looks good, his curly hair loose and dark eyes sharp. You’re suddenly thrown back to months ago, sat on the same rooftop and locking eyes with the same boy who you’d thought had run away, but that feels like a lifetime ago.

    You turn away suddenly, unable to maintain eye contact, and he clears his throat. Petra narrows her eyes at him, glancing at you as if to get permission to do god-knows-what, and you shake your head at her.

    She rolls her eyes, seemingly disappointed at not being allowed to wreak havoc.

    “Hey, Markie-mark!” Billy calls out, and you’re unable to smother a small smile at the teenager’s unadulterated joy and excitement at seeing his friend. “How’s the job at the comic book store?”

    You quirk an eyebrow. Damn that boy for having all the same interests as me, you think, your mind going back to your extensive collection of your brother’s old indie comics you used to have before… Well, before everything went to hell.

    “You guys have any alcohol?” Marcus calls out, drawing you out of your reverie, and you suck up your self-pity and force a smile.

    “You have two options – Petra’s ‘essence of bleach’ moonshine or plain ol’ Jack Daniels.”

    Petra rolls her eyes, muttering something about being the only one able to handle the one true alcohol, while Marcus offers you a small smile back. “I think I’ll take the latter.”

    “Smart choice.” You reply, your heart aching at the familiarity of the playful back-and-forth as you pour him a cup.

    He takes the solo cup from you, fingers grazing yours for just a moment but it’s enough to throw you back to the simpler time when you’d taken the contact as a sign of mutual attraction, and the memory has you gritting your teeth and pulling your hand back suddenly.

    Marcus furrows his brow, glancing over at Petra who offers him a blank (and really rather terrifying) stare, as if to say “you already know why”. She then turns and continues talking to Saya – you catch the name Voltron but it still doesn’t mean anything to you.

     You sit down on the far wall, avoiding eye contact with Marcus as he settles himself on some stairs next to the radio.

    The door opens again, and in comes Maria, looking gorgeous and dangerous and everything a guy could ever wish for. “Here you are!” She exclaims, catching sight of Marcus.  

     “Yeah, here I am.” He replies, rather quizzically as she runs over and tugs him up from his seat.

     “Dance with me.” Maria looks elated, a huge grin on her face as she begins to twirl and tug Marcus around the roof as she makes excited squealing sounds. She tumbles, falling into Saya and Petra, before turning and apologizing to the Japanese girl and planting a big kiss on her cheek.

    And then, she’s up again, twirling and making whooping sounds and laughing as the rest of the teenagers on the roof share uncomfortable glances at the erratic behavior.

    Eventually, she tumbles into the radio, toppling it off the roof and cutting off the music entirely. Great.

     “Is that just alcohol?” Billy asks, and you offer him a shrug in return, taking a big sip of your drink.

     “I wanna go dancing.” Maria states suddenly, turning to Marcus. “Don’t be such a little bitch.” She shoves his face to the side.

     “Yeah… Little bitch or big bitch, I only have two gears.” He retorts, and Maria huffs and turns to you.

     “You’ll come dance with me, right Y/N?” She grabs your arm, tugging you up, and you widen your eyes.

     “Maria, I’m not in the mood-”

     “Just because your brother died doesn’t mean you have to be such a downer all the time.” She says, and your mouth drops open in shock. The roof goes deadly silent, and she rolls her eyes as you look over at Saya who looks sheepishly down at her feet.

     “Fine! You don’t wanna dance.” Maria turns back to Marcus. “Maybe there’s something else you’d rather do.”

     And in one fell swoop, she locks her arms around him and begins making out with him passionately. You roll your eyes and avert your gaze bitterly.

    Saya stands up abruptly, grabbing Maria’s arm and wrenching her away from Marcus.

    “Que pasa Saya? I want to stay with Marcus he wants to dance with me.” Maria reaches back for him but Saya tugs her away, but not before Maria latches onto your arm. “Come on, Y/N, come with us.”

    And with that, she tugs you through the door with her and Saya. You make eye contact with Saya who simply rolls her eyes and shoves the huffing Hispanic girl into the stairwell.

     “What the hell was that?” Saya demands, and Maria rolls her eyes.

     “You’re no fun anymore. Neither of you.” You quirk an eyebrow, folding your arms, still stung by her earlier comment.

     “Maria, you’re not acting like yourself,” Saya says softly. “Something’s wrong, you need help.”

     “Oh, God. I’m so tired of people telling me there’s something wrong with me I’m fine!” Maria yells, strutting down the rest of the stairs indignantly.

     “You’re putting yourself in danger. You’re putting all of us-” Saya tries.

     “Don’t worry,” Maria holds up a hand, cutting Saya off. “I won’t embarrass you or harm your precious grades.”

     “That’s not what I’m saying-” Saya tries again, but is cut off by Maria turning sharply to you.

     “I bet you’re wondering why I’m all crazy, huh? Why I’m dangerous?”

      You sigh. “Maria, I don’t care what it is, I’m just worried-”

      “She’s bipolar.” Saya states abruptly.

      “Saya!” Maria exclaims.

     “What? That’s why you brought her too, huh? She deserves to know, since you’re off your meds we’re all danger. She got shot, Maria, and Master Gao knows something is up, and it’s a matter of time before-”

     “Before what? Before I get us all killed, huh?” Maria yells.

     “That’s not what I was going to say.” Saya defends.

     “Maria, we’re not accusing you of anything, okay? We just wanna help.” You try to amend the situation.

     “No, you just want to steal my boyfriend!” She shouts, eyes wide as she jabs a finger at you before wheeling around and storming off.

    There’s a silent moment as you and Saya stand in the wake of Maria’s anger, unsure of what to say, before she begins to descend the stairs as well.

     “She doesn’t mean it.” Saya mutters quietly, and you not and breathe in deeply.

     “I know.”

     You turn and make your way back to the roof, glancing wearily around as you notice that everyone has left, except for Marcus, who starts towards you with questions in his eyes.

    “We need to talk.” You state plainly. 

    “Look, Y/N-” Marcus sighs, running a hand through his hair, and you roll your eyes.

     “This isn’t about me, okay? It’s about Maria. She’s bipolar.”

     His eyes widen and then narrow. “She’s what?”

    “Saya told me because I noticed her behavior, okay? And you haven’t.” He opens his mouth as if to argue and you hold up a hand. “Which is fine, but now you know, and you need to get her to start taking her pills again.”

    “She’s not taking her pills?” He asks, incredulously, and then curses under his breath. “For how long? Why didn’t she tell me?”

    You shrug and he curses again. “Fuck, Marcus, I don’t know everything. I just know that… That she’s hurting, and she needs you right now.” You try to ignore the pang at how relevant those words are to your current situation as Marcus’ eyes narrow.

    “Okay. Shit. I’ll try to… Fuck, I dunno. I’ll try talking to her.”

    “Good.”

    Silence stretches out between the two of you, both of you trying not to meet the other’s gaze. You shiver slightly as a breeze picks up the night air, and the miniscule action causes Marcus to finally look back up at you.

    “Before, I wanted to- I wanted to say sorry, or whatever.” He says finally, and you glance up in surprise. “I’ve been a bit of a dick, and I know that. After- After everything went to Hell in Vegas, I didn’t get a chance to talk to you, and then… I tried not to talk to you, because I didn’t know how.”

    You swallow thickly, not daring to say anything. The wind blows a strand of your hair over your forehead, and agonizingly slowly, Marcus reaches forwards and brushes it away.

    “When you wanted to talk before, was it about Maria?” His voice is low, and you raise an eyebrow. “I mean, was it about… Her pills, or was it about…”

    He trails off and you realize that somehow, you’d both been inching incrementally closer, and as you stare into his dark eyes you think that you could just lean forwards, ever-so-slightly, and-

      You cut off that thought process, reminding yourself of his unavailability, and move a step backwards subconsciously. You look back into his eyes as he stares at you, like he’s trying to figure you out, when you notice movement in the reflection in the white of his eye. You get a shot of cold racing up your spine, that feeling that everything is about to go wrong, and without hesitation you shove Marcus to the left and duck.

      The arrow whizzes past your ear, clinking on the patch of cement it hits where Marcus was standing a second ago, and he swears, staring behind you. You whirl around and catch sight of a figure clad in black running off, and Marcus follows suit.

      “There he is. Come on!” He takes off running, and you listen to him leave with a heavy heart as your eyes remain glued to the arrow on the ground – the one with a red feather that you recognize from the quiver that sits in the corner of Maria’s room.

      You sigh, your mortality at the forefront of your mind as you run a hand through your hair and turn to gaze the way Marcus had run off.

     Marcus’ unparalleled conviction for justice flashes in your mind, and your heart drops as it occurs to you that he doesn’t know that the person he’s chasing is his girlfriend.

     “Marcus!” You call out as an afterthought, heart dropping as you whirl around to find him before – god forbid – he does something like try to kill Maria.

     You gage the distance of the rooftop you’d seen the shadowy figure on, and deciding it is attainable, throw yourself up, using window ledges and pipes to help you scale the side of the building. You figure this will take less time than trying to follow, and your thoughts are confirmed when you spot two figures in the Graveyard – your heart plummets when you spot Maria on the ground, arms up in surrender, and Marcus above her with his fist poised to strike.

     “What the fuck? What in the fuck!” He screams, and you stop in your tracks, crouching down on the roof rather than dropping down and interrupting. “You tried to kill me!”

     His tone is accusatory, raw and pained, and you clench your jaw as you gaze down at the young couple caught in each others violent storm of emotions.

     “No, I knew she wouldn’t let that arrow hit you, same as I knew she would try to steal you.” Maria retorts, the tears on her cheeks glistening in the moonlight.

     “Steal me? She was trying to help you!” Marcus yells.

    You squeeze your eyes shut and turn away, heading down from the roof. You can’t listen in on them. You just can’t. No matter whether or not you’re involved, it would be wrong to listen in on what is obviously such a private and personal moment.

      So you don’t. You climb down from the roof and head back to your dorm, ignoring the look of concern Petra gives you as you enter the room dejectedly. God, how you’d kill to be a normal teenager for a day.

Chapter Text

      Petra gives you a look as she enters your dorm room, eyebrow raised, and black-lined mouth set in a firm line. You sit up from your bed and yank off your headphones, cutting off ‘Don’t Fear The Reaper’ mid-song.

    “What?” You ask, after a moment of her just standing in the doorway looking at you.

    “Marcus gave me something to give to you.” She says after a minute, and you immediately furrow your brow, swinging your legs off the bed and standing up.

    “What is it?”

      She sighs and pulls out a piece of paper, folded into a neat square, and holds it out to you. “I didn’t open it.”

    You reach over and take it from her, starting to unfold it, when she grabs your wrist gently. “Y/N – Just… Be careful, okay? He seemed really shaken up, and he told me it’s urgent that you get this.”

    You nod, quirking an eyebrow. “And…?”

     Petra rolls her black-lined eyes, as if exasperated that you can’t read her mind.

     “And he’s still with Maria. You have to remember that.”

    You press your lips together. “We’re just friends.”

    Petra’s face is entirely unconvinced, but she lets go of your hand and goes to flop down on her bed.

    You finish unfolding the note and stare at the tiny phrase scribbled in his handwriting; ‘Meet me in Graveyard. Please. -M.’

    You reach over and grab your blazer, shrugging it on and ignoring the knowing look Petra is giving you while you slide a knife in your boot and tuck your other one in your blazer pocket.

     “I’ll be fine. I promise.” You say, offering Petra a small smile before leaving your dorm and heading for the roof.

    The night air is chilled, sweeping over you in a wave as you step out of the door into the Graveyard, your eyes scanning quickly to find him. When you spot him, he’s sat on a bench under one of the Japanese arches, cigarette between his lips and nervous expression plastered to his face.

    He sees you, dark eyes lighting up slightly as he stands quickly and straightens his jacket.

     “What’s with the cryptic note?” You start, making your way over to him, and he takes the cigarette out of his mouth and sighs.

    “I’m in some trouble,” Marcus says, face contorting slightly as if what he’s about to tell you is paining him. “We all are.”

    You immediately furrow your brow, waiting for him to continue.

    “I found out where Chico’s body is.”

    “What? Where?” You ask instantly, standing up straight as all pretense of relaxation instantly floods out of your form.

    “When we were in Vegas, I thought it was the acid trip, but he was tracking me. And now my old roommate has Chico’s body.”

    The words hit you with staggering force, pushing you into a memory of searing pain and the cold chain link fence pushed into your back as you watch Maria slit Chico’s throat. Panic claws your throat. You’re sitting in an alleyway and both you and Marcus are going to die. Wait, no, that’s not right.

    “Y/N. Y/N.” Marcus’ voice rings out.

    You blink, pulling yourself back to the present. You uncurl your fist slightly, revealing tiny crescent shaped wounds where your nails had been digging into the flesh of your palm, and tug down your jacket sleeve to hide it.

    “Right. Yeah. Shit.” You respond, as eloquent as ever.

    “March of ’86.” He says, holding out the notebook, and you furrow your brow and take a tentative step back.

    “No- Marcus. I can’t. That’s too personal.” You push the notebook back towards him, watching his face carefully as he sighs and pushes it further towards you.

    “You need to know what really happened. And, I… I trust you.” He seems to struggle with the word for a minute, but when he meets your eyes all you see is honesty and openness.

    Your fingers close over the top of the notebook. “Okay.” You give in, taking it from him and looking down at it, this thing that holds all of Marcus’ memories and personal thoughts.

    You settle down on the cold stone seat, glancing at him once more as if to seek confirmation before you crack it open, keeping your eyes glued to the top corners of the pages where the dates are written.

    There.

     March 1986.

    As you read, the cruelty of the orphanage and his roommate, what he had to endure, and the truth of his past all sink in, your brow furrows further and further and your shaking hand comes up to cover your mouth, until the entry is finally over. You close the notebook, looking up to find Marcus with his back turned to you, smoking nervously.

     You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you sit in silence for a moment and look down at the closed book in your trembling hands. When you look up, Marcus is looking at you, cigarette in hand and difficult expression on his face.

    “So now you know.” He says, simply, casually, blowing out smoke as if he hasn’t a care in the world – a sentiment betrayed only by the panic you see shining in his eyes, warily glancing between you and the book.

    “Marcus, I –” Your throat tightens as you struggle to find the words. You shake your head, pushing away your emotions as your brain decides to be rational for once. “So, this… Chester guy has Chico’s body?”

    Marcus just nods tightly, taking another long drag from his cigarette, and you pinch your lips together. “Shit.”

    Then, a thought occurs to you. “Does Maria know the truth?”

    He glances to the side, rubbing the back of his neck, and you smack him with his notebook.

    “Marcus! She deserves to know, she’s your girlfriend-”

    “She’s not my girlfriend.”

    The silence that follows is deafening.

     “What?” You ask, sure that you couldn’t have possibly heard him correctly.

    “I broke up with her last night. She needs help, and I can’t… I can’t give her that.”

    “Right. Of course.” You mutter, still reeling.

    “Besides, she tried to kill me.” His attempt at a joke falls slightly short, but you offer a tight-lipped smile nonetheless. His face goes dark. “She could have killed you.”

     He flicks his cigarette away and surges forward to presses his lips to yours, your eyes shuttering closed on instinct at the sudden contact. His hand comes up to cup your jaw and you let yours reach for his neck, pulling him closer. When he pulls away, his eyes are trained intently on yours, dark and intense.

    “What was that for?” You manage, breathless, and he offers a small crooked smile.

    “An apology. For waiting so long.”

    “While I, um…” You brush hair out of your face with a smile, still reeling from the sudden kiss. “Appreciate that… I think we have some more pressing matters to deal with.”

    “Right. Yeah.” Marcus scoffs, drawing away from you and lighting another cigarette. “Chester… He’s a serial killer now. ‘Fuckface’.”

    The name rings a bell, as it takes you a minute for recognition to set in, but when it does your body goes rigid.

    “Wait, the psycho in the newspapers? He’s the one who has Chico’s body?”

    “I have to kill him.” Marcus says, resolutely, staring at nothing as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

    “Hey…” You gently reach up and tilt his head towards you, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “We.”

Chapter Text

        “I despise this idea.” You whisper, goosebumps prickling on your skin as you and Marcus make your way further down the cold stone steps, into the Academy’s basement slash dungeon.

      “Yeah, well, we don’t have a better one.” Marcus whispers back, and you roll your eyes and rub your arms as you eye the darkened room – your gaze pauses on a rack of torture instruments and you grimace.

      “Besides, we’re running out of time.” Marcus crouches down and gets to work with his lockpicks while you glance around the dank interior, on high alert. “We need… An expert.”

      The cell door creaks open ominously, slowly revealing the Scorpio Slasher casually observing the two of you. You try to smother your immediate reaction of discomfort and fear, shuttering your expression into one of disinterest.

      “Well, if it isn’t the self-righteous boy who hates bullies and me…” The serial killer’s gaze slides over to you. “And El Alma del Diablo’s number one fan.”

      You roll your eyes at the sarcasm as he continues talking. “I am beside myself with anticipation.”

      “We need help.” Marcus sighs, and you glance over at him, an eyebrow raised, unsure of how to approach negotiations with a psychopathic serial killer.

      “So, you came to the tiny-dick egotist.” The Scorpio Slasher retorts, reciting Marcus’ words from their last encounter with bitterness.

      “There’s a serial killer we need to find.” You speak up, sick of the tense glares and fraught tension between Marcus and the teacher.

      “’Need’? Interesting. So many connotations…”

      “We were at the boys’ home together. We were roommates. He used to… hurt me.” Marcus pauses as your psychopathy teacher’s expression turns to one of interest. “And now he’s killing people. Calls himself ‘Fuckface.’”

      “Well that is quite the name.” Slasher casually leans over and picks up his mug, the sound of his chain restraints rattling reminding you all of just how dangerous he is. “You ever consider looking where idiots gather?”

      “Thought you might have some insights into your own kind.” Marcus retorts, wicked sharp and cunning as ever, and you lean ever so slightly to bump your shoulder into his. You need to convince this man to help you, not give him more of a reason to hate you.

      “My kind? Me and this gentleman are not even the same species.”

      “You’re both serial killer psychopaths. There’s gotta be at least some overlap there.” You say, crossing your arms, and he offers you a tight-lipped smile with absolutely zero warmth or humor behind the action.

      He seems to consider your words for a few moments. “I am curious. Okay. Let’s cruise, Daddy-o. What drives his insides? What was the thing that he couldn’t help but talk about in that boy’s home?”

      Marcus considers for a beat. “Dogs.”

      The Scorpio Slasher sighs, his interest visibly deflating. “Bored already.”

      “No, he’s really into dogs.”

      “Oh. Oh.” The Slasher makes a lewd gesture with his hands, insinuating what Chester did with the dogs, and you grimace in disgust. “That is horrendous. Almost pre-human.”

      You agree with him entirely on that one, you think.

      “I’ll help.” He states suddenly, and then much to both your and Marcus’ shock, stands up from his wheelchair, revealing he was never attached to it all this time. “But not from in here.” Your hand flies to you jacket pocket, whipping out your knife in record time, and you catch the Scorpio Slasher’s smirk as he spots the object.

      “You said ‘need’.” Your teacher stalks towards you and Marcus’ hand darts out in front of you, shielding you slightly. “Poor word selection, it gives away so much because I have a need too.”

      Your breaths are shallow as you keep your eyes locked on the man, assessing for danger in every movement he makes.

      “I need to sit in Pancho Villa’s Taqueria and enjoy a carnitas burrito. Oh, it’s an unsettling offer, I know, but you wouldn’t have come here if you weren’t very, very, desperate.”

       You and Marcus share a look, an unspoken conversation happening in a second. You both know you have no other option, despite how much of a terrible idea the current plan might seem.

      “Oh, and a word of advice, young man. When asking a dangerous killer for help, after insulting him by calling him a ‘tiny dick egotist’… Never, ever, show them your weakness.” His eyes fall on you pointedly, and you furrow your brow and glance between him and Marcus, whose hands are formed into tight, angry fists.

       His insinuation dawns on you as he brushes past the two of you, and you turn to Marcus with obvious questioning in your eyes. “What the fuck was that?” You ask, and his eyes dart between you and the wall behind you.

      “Nothing.” And just like that, he too pushes past you to follow your psychotic teacher.

      You stand there for another moment, bewildered by the insinuation of the serial killer and incredulous at the teenage boy’s absolute dismissal of you, before turning and continuing down the dark corridor with a serial killer in tow. When you reach the end of the rows of empty cells, you come face to face with a large sturdy-looking wood door.

      Offering Marcus a glance, knowing that this leads to the only other exit to King’s, you turn the handle and push it open.

      It swings open silently, the quiet adding to your general sense of unease. There is a stone chamber beyond the door, not the quiet courtyard at the back of the school, and your brow furrows even more as it lands on your favorite green-haired punk sleeping on his skateboard in the middle of the floor.

      Marcus joins you as you step through into the room, as well as your unhinged guest, and Billy’s eyes spring open at the sound of footsteps. He leaps up from his place on the floor - “Wait, don’t let the door shut!” - and the door swings firmly shut.

      You hear him curse under his breath. “How long have you been in here?” You ask him bemusedly, and he rolls his eyes at you.

       “Long enough. Monks threw me in here this morning.” He retorts, before a smile spreads onto his face and he pulls you in for a hug.

      “Billy, what is this?” Marcus asks, eyeing the various doors warily, and you and Billy both turn to face him.

      “It’s a puzzle room, dude!”

       “It’s a test - they choose a kid randomly and lock them in, and you have to solve a riddle in order to get out. One of these doors is the unguarded exit out of King’s, the others… The others are doors you don’t want to go into.” You explain.

      “So? What’s your riddle?”

      “Nuh-uh. Not gonna do it. Just gonna sleep here until they come back to take me away.”

      “It can’t be that bad.” You chide, crouching down to the box and pulling the riddle note out to read aloud. “‘Behind one door, scorching fire, the other, three lions starved for months, the last holds deadly assassins. Which is the path to safety?’”

      “Hey, guys, did you know that you’re hanging out with the Scorpio Slasher?”

       “We’re getting burritos.” Marcus explains, and you give Billy a wry smile at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

      He raises an eyebrow at you, eyes comically darting between the three of you, and you huff out a sigh and move to sit next to Billy, tucking your knees up to your chest. “Long story.” You try to explain, your gaze catching Marcus’ for half a second before he turns away.

     “We need his help.” Marcus offers, and Billy’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, obviously waiting for further explanation. “My old roommate from the boys’ home has become a serial killer – he goes by ‘Fuckface’ now – and we need to find him.”

     “Shit, what does this Fuckhead guy want? Why didn’t you tell us?” Billy asks, glancing between the two of you, and you shrug and hug your knees tighter.

     “You know, there’s a lot Marcus doesn’t say.” The Scorpio Slasher says suddenly, and all three teenagers in the room turn their heads sharply to look at him. 

    “You don’t know dick.” Marcus retorts angrily from his position leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

     “Oh, I know dick. You and I are a lot more alike than that Dr. Seuss character beside you.” The Slasher continues, and Billy’s face falls.

     “It’s a mohawk.” He interjects, and you pat his arm in reassurance.

     “I have nothing in common with a piece-of-shit bully who kills teenagers making out in cars.” Marcus continues, ignoring Billy and pushing off the wall, no longer relaxed.

     “Better to burn them in a boys’ home? Ooh, the road not traveled.” The Slasher antagonizes Marcus, who goes quiet.

    “Punks have nothing in common with Dr. Seuss. It’s, like, totally different.” Billy continues defensively.

     You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up out of your seated position and going to examine the puzzle again instead of listening to the boys bicker.

     The puzzle repeats itself in your head a few times as you circle the buttons, glancing between the three separate doors. Something stands out to you, but you can’t place your finger on what.

     It’s then that your psychopathy teacher takes notice of Billy, turning his attention towards him. “Dr. Seuss is a drunk and a philanderer.”

     “Shit, really?” Billy says in surprise.

     “He was screwing another woman while his wife was dying of cancer. In a box, with a pox.”

     Something clicks in your mind, and you smile. “Lions.” You mutter under your breath, glancing back at the men, still quarrelling.

     “That’s not punk, that’s just high-level dickish.” Billy says firmly.

     “Dickish is subjective. It depends on who is doing what to whom.” The Slasher retorts, and you roll your eyes and approach the panel.

     “No! Wait!” Billy yells, leaping up from his spot on the floor in a panic as you press the button with a satisfying ‘click’. “Lions!”

      The door creaks open, and although you’re sure of your decision, you find yourself holding your breath slightly, but when you spot greenery outside you smile.

     “Billy, honey, lions starved for months are also known as dead lions.” You pat him on the shoulder as you move past him and step outside.

     Your teacher follows you, breathing in deeply as he takes in his surroundings. “I did miss the smell of dollar meats.”

      You roll your eyes and pull the leash out of your back pocket, make eye contact with Marcus who nods an affirmation at you. You come up behind your teacher, steeling yourself, and click the leash into his collar.

      He glances back in surprise, one eyebrow lifted, and Marcus smirks. “Did you think we were just gonna let you run around?” He asks smugly.

      “Well, of course not. Safety first.” The Slasher comments, a wry smile stretching his lips as he gives you a look reminiscent of a predator eyeing its prey - it takes a lot of willpower not to shudder at the idea, but before you know it he’s taken off walking in the direction of the meat smell.

      You share one last cursory glance with the two other Rats - Billy is drumming his fingers against his pant-leg, nervous energy emanating from him in waves, while Marcus’ expression holds grim determination in contrast to his anxious, poised-for-a-fight pose.

      You take a deep breath, nodding once at Marcus, before you turn and follow your psychopathic murdering teacher, who you have on a leash, towards his favorite Mexican food place. 

      So that he’ll help you track down Marcus’ abusive ex-roommate turned serial killer. 

      God, you think, why the fuck am I tangled up in this mess?

      Oh, right. Because you’re hopelessly in love with Marcus. Wonderful.

Chapter Text

     You quirk an eyebrow at your psychopathy teacher as he tears into his burrito, sliding a sideways glance over at Marcus who sits diagonally to you. He has the same slightly bemused, slightly disgusted look on his features as you, so at least you’re not alone in your sentiment.

     “This carnitas is heavenly.” The Slasher moans through another mouthful, and you raise your eyebrows as you take a sip of your coke.

     “Surprised you didn’t order a human flesh burrito.” Billy jokes, drawing a chuckle out of Marcus and an amused eye roll out of yourself, which devolves into a laugh as your teacher throws his napkin at him.

     “So, how’d a little boy come to wanna kill Reagan?” The Slasher asks. leaning forwards onto the table, and Marcus freezes, exchanging a panicked glance with you. “The teacher’s lounge is a gossip pit,” Your teacher explains. “Zane talks more than a teenager chained to a water heater.”

     You grimace at his analogy, absentmindedly winding the leash around your fist one more time, just to be sure you have him.

     “I’m not telling you shit about me,” Marcus protests, his tone making it evident that your teacher has struck a nerve, and you get that familiar uneasy feeling in your gut about the whole situation. “You got the burrito, quit stalling.”

     “Mr. Face,” You roll your eyes at the polite new name for Marcus’ psychotic roommate, “Is a product of pain. He did not decide to become what he is, it was imposed upon him.”

     “Bullshit.” You scoff, at the same time Marcus interjects with, “He made his choice.”

     “He chose to live in a boy’s home?” Your teacher offers in rebuttal, and you glance over at Billy who seems to be enjoying the back and forth happening. “Neglected boys, so many ways for disorders to bloom. One of the most fun — obsessive love. Starved of emotional security, they idealize someone, or something, to supply that love. Now, in this case, a thing that won’t talk, or have complicated emotions.”

     As he goes on about it, he crudely mimics a dog with his hand, turning it to face you, and you grimace is disgust at the entire idea and shrink away. “Okay, alright, I get it.” You say, hoping he’ll back off. “So… Where do we go?”

     “That’s up to you.” Your teacher narrows his eyes. You glance between your teacher and Marcus, who are both staring quite intently at each other. “Why Reagan?”

     Marcus glares at him, seemingly weighing up his options in his head, before glancing at you, and you offer a minuscule nod, as if to reassure him that you’re right here with him. “My parents were killed.” He offers finally, gaze falling down to the table.

     “Well not by me I hope.” The Slasher laughs, and you frown in anger, biting your cheek to avoid saying something. “That would be awkward.” He continues, and you break, seeing Marcus’ pained expression.

     “Shut up.” You mutter, your fist winding the leash even tighter.

     In a blur, he grabs a knife from the table and holds it at your neck, the tip digging into your skin as you strain backwards. Billy reaches over and grabs the leash as you let go in fear, and Marcus freezes, half-reaching across the table, not knowing what to do.

     You make panicked eye contact with him, and he reciprocates your reassuring nod from earlier, which is a nice gesture but doesn’t help that you’re one wrong move away from your throat being slit.

     “The thing about me is I get angry when you call me names.” The Slasher spits out, glaring at you, and you try to hold your hands up in a show of surrender, really wishing you had your own knife in your hand right now. He turns to Marcus. “But I also kinda like it.” He smirks, but Marcus is unamused, and quite frankly, neither are you.

     Marcus leans forwards, hands up in surrender. “They were killed by one of the people Reagan released from the mental hospitals.” He explains, and if you weren’t so focused on not getting murdered by a serial killer in a taqueria, you’d offer your condolences.

     “Okay, so A to B — I was hoping for C, but you probably don’t know C yet, do you.” Your psychopathy teacher seems irritated, and you feel a slight sting as the knife breaks your skin ever-so-slightly.

     “I did what you wanted. Let her go.” Marcus insists, eyes trained on where the point of the knife meets your neck.

     “Ice. Cream.” The Slasher states angrily, and you furrow your brow, glancing over at a panicking Billy who shrugs at you.

     “Ice cream?” The green-haired boy repeats, and suddenly, the knife is lifted from your neck and everything seems to go back to normal. You breathe out a rush of air, hand coming up to clutch at your neck, and Marcus snatches the knife from the table and puts it out of your teacher’s reach. The tension in the room dissipates just like that.

     “We’re getting ice cream.” Your teacher states, and you pull your hand away from your neck to find a tiny spot of blood. Son of a bitch, you curse internally, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at sore spot on your neck. “And then, I promise, I’ll show you.”

     Marcus tracks your movements, dark eyes murderous when he notices that you’re bleeding, but you shake your head minutely at him. You can’t afford another confrontation at this point, you just want this whole thing to be over. He seems to get what you’re implying and turns back to your teacher, giving in and nodding to him.

     “I need a minute.” You say abruptly, standing up and pushing your chair out in one sudden movement, walking towards the door of the place as your teacher cackles behind you. The sound causes blood to rush to your face, embarrassed by the helplessness of the situation.

     You nearly burst out of the door, standing off to the side and breathing in deeply, hand coming up instinctively to cover the wound. The sound of the door opening startles you, and you turn to find Marcus exiting onto the street as well.

      “Are you alright?” He asks, tense, dark eyes darting between you and the restaurant. You nod, gently tugging your coat up and cocking your head in hopes of covering the tiny cut.

     “Yeah, fine.” You smile tersely, and he frowns, approaching you.

     “You need to stop doing that.” He mutters, hand coming up to gently pull your head up and away from your shoulder, no longer hiding your neck.

     “What?” You ask, distracted by his hand lingering on your neck, fingers delicately over the surrounding area of the wound.

     “Always pretending you’re not hurt.” He huffs, and you find yourself entirely unable to come up with a response. You’ve been pretending so long you’re not sure how to stop, and it’s only since Marcus has arrived that your usual facade seems to no longer be enough.

     Your hand tentatively comes up, as if to pull his away from your neck, but he resists, so you end up just covering his hand with yours. You meet his gaze, his dark eyes scanning your face with lips pressed together.

     “So, are you alright?” He repeats, and at that you break, expression morphing into a tender smile.

     “Really. It’s a tiny cut. Should heal in no time.” You reassure, and he nods once, definitively, but you can tell it hasn’t reassured him in the slightest. “Marcus,” You insist. “I’m fine.”

     He rolls his eyes, as if to say ‘there you are, doing it again’, and looks down at his shoes, retracting his hand from your neck and shoving both into his jean pockets. You mourn the loss of contact instantly, but don’t say anything, eyes falling to the floor as well.

     “He shouldn’t have got the chance to hurt you.” He says, finally, and you glance up in surprise. “I know you’re fine, but… He could have—” He cuts himself off, seemingly unable to finish his train of thought. “I should’ve—” He tries again.

     “Hey,” You utter softly, drawing his gaze from the floor back up to meet your eyes. “It’s not your fault.” You say, as if it’s obvious, and he nods.

     “I just— I don’t know what I’d do if he—”

     The difficulty expressing himself verbally is something you relate to on a fundamental level, another instance of baffling similarities between you and Marcus. You get what he’s trying to say, instantly, and you step closer to him, filling in the space between you, you hand coming to rest on his upper arm.

     “Me too.” You offer, hoping — no, praying that he understands, and judging from the startled look that morphs into tenderness in his eyes, you think he did. He nods, sighing, and leans closer to you, the gap between yourself disappearing in an instant, his hand coming up to cup your jaw as he leans in and —

     “I’ve been promised ice cream.” Your teacher’s voice appears from behind Marcus and you startle apart, eyes widening and hand seeking out the knife in your pocket in a flash of panic.

     Billy appears a moment later, green spikes poking out from behind your teacher as he re-wraps the leash around his hand. “Sorry! I was going to give you guys a moment but he can really pull from his neck.” He apologizes sheepishly, and you clear your throat as Marcus runs a hand through his hair, recollecting himself.

     “It’s fine.” You reassure Billy, trying to avoid the knowing smirk your teacher is giving you. “Right, ice cream.” You state, and turn on your heel and start walking, hoping the others will follow you.

Chapter Text

      It had been a brief and silent walk to the nearest corner store to get your teacher an ice cream bar, tensions high and flush still present on your cheeks from the previous moment you had with Marcus. When you reach the store, you move to open the door at the same time as your teacher does, and you cringe back instantly. 

    “Actually, someone should keep watch.” You say suddenly, utter nonsense, but you can’t bring yourself to stand in close proximity with him again. Marcus and Billy exchange a wordless glance, and when Billy shrugs, Marcus moves to stand near you. 

    “Good idea,” He nods. “I’ll stay here too.” 

     You look over at him in surprise, but he nods at Billy and they head into the store. He turns to look at you after, dark eyebrow quirked as he notices your expression. “Unless you don’t want me to hang around.”

      “No, no, I just...” You narrow your eyes, small smile tugging at your lips as you study him. “I dunno. It’s hard to figure you out.” You answer honestly, and he raises his eyebrows.

      “How so?"

      “Well...” You pause, a quick pursing of your lips as you contemplate sharing your thoughts fully, before cocking your head and deciding to just say it. “First, we have a thing . Then, you’re with Maria —” You see him open his mouth and hold up a hand. “Which is fine , but then you’re not with Maria. And we have a thing again. But then you go all quiet on me, and avoid talking to me, and now... Now you want to spend extra time with me.”

      He waits for you to finish, quirk in his lips as he leans against the glass storefront, digging in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. “You’re right.” He nods, pulling out a cigarette and tucking it between his lips. “Truth is...” He looks up at you and you’re struck once again by the intensity of his brown eyes as he studies you. “Truth is I don’t know how to act around you.”

     You almost laugh, thrown by how open he’s being, and take your place leaning against the glass beside him. You pause for a moment, glancing down at the sidewalk addled with trodden pieces of gum and paper and litter scattered all over the concrete, before the pack of cigarettes hovers into your line of sight and you take one with a nod. 

     Marcus tucks the packet back into his jeans, and when you look back up at him he’s already taking a deep drag from his lit cigarette, lighter extended out to you, and you get a flash of memory of the moment you two shared on the roof after the whole ordeal with the Kuroki assassins. 

    It’s hard to believe that wasn’t decades ago, with so much having happened in this year alone — Christ, the two of you only met during this school year, yet you somehow feel like you’ve always known him, like the two of you are ingrained into the very fabric of each other’s being. 

Chapter Text

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     The dorm room is dead silent as you gape blankly at Petra. "No. Fucking. Way." You stare in horror at your roommate, mouth hung open as you attempt to process the slew of graphic information she just threw in your face. In response to your sheer outrage, she simply shrugs, black-painted lips turning up at the corners at the aghast expression on your face.

     "Ew," You gasp, eyebrows furrowing as it seeps in, your eyes darting between your roommate, the sheets on your bed, to the chair in the corner, back to your roommate. " Ew ! You and... Both of them? EW! " You stand up abruptly from your bed, eyes scanning the bedding below you in panic.

     Petra's eyes twinkle with delight at your reaction to her news of what had gone down during the lockdown, when Lex, Billy and her, had been mere moments away from partaking in a three-way in your very room. While it hadn't gone very far, the sheer idea of something like that happening between your three closest friends, in your room, makes your skin crawl.

      "In my room ?" You exclaim, still processing, and she laughs.

      "It's my room too. And we didn't do anything on your side... I don't think ." She shrugs again, ducking away from the pillow you hurl at her.

      You point a finger at her, mouth still agape at the very idea of anything like that happening on or around your personal belongings. "Petra Katja Yolga, I swear to God , if you ever have sex on my side of the room—"

      "Whatever, Mom ." She sighs, flipping you a middle finger, before her expression turns sly and a smirk tugs at her lips. "Besides, I feel like if either of us are in danger of participating in activities of the coital nature in this room, it's you ."

      Your jaw drops, cheeks blazing at the insinuation. "Shut up." You mutter, unable to form a cohesive comeback, and your heated cheeks and lack of retort just fuel Petra's fire, causing her eyes to twinkle mischievously as she plops down on the edge of your bed.

      "Oh, Marcus ..." She fakes a breathy gasp, falling back into the pillows, and before she has a chance to tease you further, you whirl around and exit the room as fast as your feet can take you, eyes wide with mortification as the sound of Petra's laughter follows you down the corridor.

       Speaking of ... You will the flush in your face to dissipate as Marcus turns the corner at the end of the corridor, dark eyes immediately seeking you out. "Hey." He smiles softly at you, and you reciprocate, heart swooping at the mere sight of his smile. Jesus, you need to get it together .

      "You okay?" He takes in your flushed expression with furrowed brows and you bite back a laugh.

      "Not one bit ," You shake your head, eyes wide. " Apparently my three best friends almost slept with each other last night... In my room."

     "What, all of them? Like, at once ?" Marcus' tone is incredulous and you nod, pleased he seems as baffled by it all as you are, but then he ruins it. "Good for them."

      You frown, smacking his shoulder lightly. "No, not good for them! My friends! In my room!"

      He huffs out a laugh at your outrage, and it's only them that you notice there's a tension in his expression, a hardened look in his dark eyes that gives you pause. "Hey, what's up?"

      Marcus makes a face, obviously not having intended on talking about it. "It's nothing, I just... I just got out of AP Black Arts and had it out with Master Lin. It's nothing serious, though, promise." At this, he slides his hand down one of your forearms, lacing his fingers with yours and tugging you closer to him.

      Your brows shoot up, cheeks heating back up at the sudden proximity as you gaze up at him through your lashes. "If the monks catch us like this..." Your words trail off as he dips his head to seal his lips to yours, the kiss causing you to forget any protest you might have once had. Before you know it. his hands are on your waist and you're gripping at the lapels of his uniform, the world beyond the two of you lost to oblivion for all you care. You can hear Petra's voice in your head, cackling, but you shove it away, relishing in the kiss.

      "If you're worried about the monks," He whispers as he pulls away, dark eyes glittering with mischief. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private ."

      You very nearly go along with it too, the air simmering between the two of you in the darkened hallway, but you remember why you were going to seek him out in the first place, and step back to give yourself some space to think — something you have proven to be unable to do at such close proximity to him.

      " You —" You brush your hands over the lapels of his uniform, straightening the creases you didn't realize you'd made. "Have a shift at the comics store, if I remember correctly." He curses immediately at the reminder, groaning, and you smirk.

      "Come with me." He proposes, hand sneaking back onto your waist, and you raise your eyebrows at how bold he's become — but then an apologetic look sneaks into his features, his brown eyes widening with a plea. "Plus, you sort of need to be there, Saya wanted to call a Vegas Crew gathering."

      You feel the romance dissipate from the air just like that, a crushing reminder of the psychopathic killer at large and the incredible danger you all live in swooping in to ruin the mood. "Right. Smart." You nod, running a hand through your hair, and Marcus sighs.

      "I was going to go change, do you want to come wait in the room?" You raise your eyebrows at his words and he laughs, hands held up in surrender. "No funny business, I swear." You roll your eyes, but nod anyway, biting your lip at the kiss he presses to your cheek as you follow him to his room.

      Before long, the two of you head to the comic store together, only waiting a little while before Saya, Billy, and Willie all show up too.

      The black and white photos Saya has sprawled on the counter make you shudder, taking in the horrors of what Fuckface has done to Shabnam's house.

      "Jesus," Marcus finally speaks up, voicing your thoughts. "Is that Shabnam's dad?" He holds out a photo and you grimace at the image before you.

      "His mom's probably in there as well." Billy says, and your frown deepens, causing him to pat you on the back with a less-than-convincing smile of reassurance. "All the more reason we have to do this now."

      "Shabnam's house is rigged with traps," Saya explains, pointing them out on the photos. "Chester has seven to eight people inside, helping him."

      You pause from gnawing on your thumbnail to look up at Saya. "Are we sure he has Chico?"

      "He's not bluffing," Saya sighs. "He knows everything . He has to be getting information from someone inside of King's."

      "Shabnam's parents." Marcus fills in, and you nod along, brows furrowed.

      "What's stopping him from just..." You swallow thickly. "Sending Chico's head to El Diablo ? If he finds out that it was Maria... That we were there ..." It's hard to repress the shudder that wracks your body at the mere thought of that.

     Marcus' hand appears on top of yours, dark eyes seeking out yours in an attempt at reassurance. "We're gonna need some serious firepower." He sighs, turning back to the group, and you nod. "Guns, explosives—"

      "Y'all must be out your damn minds." Willie's voice cuts him off, and when you look up you notice him glowering at all of you, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes meet yours, and your brows tug together, before he scoffs and turns to leave the store.

      "Wait, Willie—" You go to follow him, but Marcus puts a hand on your arm and gets up, exiting the store behind his friend. As soon as they both leave, you turn back to Saya and Billy, sighing deeply and sitting in Marcus' empty chair.

      "We have to talk to Maria." You say, knowing full well it isn't what Saya wants to hear, and she grimaces but doesn't argue with you. There's a long silence that follows, where all three of you are inevitably picturing the various awful ways that conversation will go, before you finally let out a deep breath.

      "I'll do it." You volunteer, causing both of your friends to glance up at you sharply.

      "No offence," Billy starts, glancing between you and Saya. "But I think you're probably the last person she wants to talk to right now."

      "I'm well aware," You shoot him a glare. "But she has to know what's going on. And I have to try to... To fix this." You know it's probably impossible, that this might be a death wish, but you have to try. You owe it to her to try.

      "Tell Marcus where I've gone, okay?" You look to Saya, and she nods, one dark eyebrow arched at your plan. "I'll fill in on the rest of this later, but... I have to do this."

      When you arrive back at King's, you forge a note from Juan to Maria, asking her to meet in the girl's bathroom, before slipping it under her door and running to the bathroom to lie in wait.

      You are well aware that this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done, but you have run completely out of other options. As you sit in the darkened girls bathroom, you take a moment to fully wonder where the fuck your life went so wrong that you are now in a bathroom, preparing to trap the leader of the Soto Vatos and el Alma del Diablo's pet assassin, in order to have a heart-to-heart.

      You are not given enough time to fully delve into those thoughts, thankfully, as the door begins to creak open and you spy Maria's shoes from the crack under the door.

      "Meeting in the girl's bathroom is a new low, Juan." Maria calls out in Spanish, and you grimace as you swing the door shut and plant yourself in front of it, revealing your ruse to her.

      She wheels around with her fan poised in front of her, expression morphing from one of surprise into rageful apprehension, and you throw your hands up placatingly.

      "I know how this looks, and I'm sorry, I just really need you to hear me out and I knew you would never agree to talk with me." Your words tumble into each other in their haste to leave your mouth, and you sigh deeply before oh-so-slowly pulling open your blazer to show her the lack of knives tucked into the lining.

      Coming unarmed to this might have been a suicidal move, but you know it's the only way to get her to listen to you.

      Her dark eyes narrow, scanning your body, and you nod. "None in the boots, either." You answer before she even gets the chance to ask, slowly rolling your ankle around to show off the lack of metallic glinting.

      "We need to talk ." It's a cheeky thing to say as you stand in between her and the only exit, but you need her to agree not to kill you before you launch into anything — and you would really like it if this continued as a semi-normal conversation between two teenage friends, despite it all.

      Maria doesn't lower her fan, but she doesn't run to attack you, either, so you take a deep breath and launch into it. "We've been doing reconnaissance on Fuckface, and it looks like he's holing up at Shabnam's house. We need to deal with him before he decides to send Chico's head to El Alma , and we need your help."

      Her eyes widen as you talk, obviously as displeased by this update as you were, and you swallow thickly. "We need you, Maria. We have to end this. You killed Chico to save Marcus... Now we have to kill Chester to do the same. And save the rest of us, while we're at it."

     Bringing up Marcus is a dicey move, and her eyes narrow at his name, but she finally tucks her fan away and sighs. "When?" She asks, and you sigh in relief, lowering your hands.

      "We don't know. Soon. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. We didn't come up with a full plan before I left, but... It has to be now." The word ' we ' obviously holds the implications of the Vegas Crew, and you watch her expression twinge at the mention of the group.

      "Fine. I'll help ." She says, eyes still glued to the ground. "Send a message when you make the plan." She moves to leave the bathroom, but you hold your position blocking the door, and her eyes narrow.

      "Move." She orders, dark eyes narrowed, and you shake your head slowly, summoning the courage to say the next words.

      "I'm sorry ."

      Your words hang heavy in the silence of the bathroom, and her expression morphs into one of heartbroken anger, but you push through. "I'm so sorry , Maria. It was never meant to happen like this, I didn't want —"      

     You're embarrassed by the sting of hot tears that press behind your eyelids, and you watch her drop her gaze to the ground, fists clenched tightly as she folds her arms across her chest.

      "My heart has belonged to him since that first night on the roof, Maria. You have to know that." You plead, stoic in your efforts for her to comprehend how out of control you've felt this whole time. "With everything that we've been through, you have to understand that I didn't choose this. It just... Happened ."

      Her eyes never leave the ground, folded arms pressing tighter against her chest as she scuffs the toe of her shoe against the floor. "I know." She whispers, and you take a breath, watching her expression.

      The dimly lit room is filled with tension, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. You've just ripped the curtains back and bared your soul to Maria, and now the ball remains firmly in her court. Her silence hangs in the room, stifling any hope for reconciliation.

      Seconds turn to minutes as you both stand there, locked in a moment of profound uncertainty. Maria's hair falls over her face, obscuring her eyes as she continues to avoid your gaze. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, weighing the years of shared secrets and experiences against this revelation.

      Finally, she breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "I know," Maria repeats, her voice tinged with bitterness and resentment. "I've always known. I'm not an idiot . I see it in the way you look at him, the way you two..." She sighs again, dark eyes boring holes into the linoleum tile below her. Her words are sharp, filled with a sense of betrayal.

      You nod, the weight of your confession still bearing down on you. "But I never wanted it to be like this, Maria. I never wanted to hurt you."

      Maria finally looks up, her eyes meeting yours with a cold, unyielding glare. "You should have thought about that before you let it happen," she hisses. "I can't believe you would let me... You let me get my heart broken."

      You take a step closer to her, reaching out to gently touch her arm, but she pulls away, her expression hardening. "Maria..." Your chest feels wounded, the sharpness in her eyes driving daggers into your heart. "I love you. I always will. But I can't change how I feel about him." Hot tears begin to fill your eyes as you shake your head fervently. "I wish I could ."

      Those words ring the truest for the both of you, and you both know it. Your shared love for this boy has caused boundless issues, invited danger and darkness into your lives, and yet as the bond between the two of you breaks in front of your eyes, you can share in the same hopeless adoration of the same idiotic man.

      Tears well up in Maria's eyes, and this time, she lets them flow freely. "That isn't enough..." she says, her voice trembling with anger. "I need time. I need to figure this out. "

      You nod, feeling the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you, and she spares you one last cold glance before she swipes the tears from her face and storms out of the bathroom. The future is uncertain, but it seems clear to you now that your friendship has been irreparably damaged.