Chapter Text
Drew stepped in the front door of the house, getting a strong sense of Deja Vu.
A glance to his right told him his backpack was still untouched by the coat rack where he'd dropped it yesterday. He picked it up and pulled one strap over his rising shoulders, trying not to make too much noise.
As he walked through the rooms, making his way towards the stairs, he noticed absently that the house didn't look any different from yesterday.
But god, did it feel different.
However uncomfortable it had been here and there, it had never felt temporary.
Being kicked out had never even been something that crossed his mind, because it just wasn't something that could happen. It had never been an issue because things like that just didn't happen to people like him.
Emotions churned in his gut as he thought of Liam's house, and of Liam's family. How easily he and his mom interacted, how naturally he moved around. How despite the house being less than perfect, it was so clearly a home.
And as he climbed the echoey stairs and noticed (for what seemed like the hundredth time) the lack of photos on the walls, he reluctantly identified one of the emotions as longing.
"Drew."
The teen looked to the side from where he was standing at the top of the stairs, seeing his father standing down the hall, fixing his tie.
"Yeah, dad?" Drew asked, keeping his voice steady.
His father didn't even glance over. "Your mother and I are going to a business meeting tomorrow afternoon. We won't be back until late, so order yourself dinner from somewhere."
So, pretending it never happened it is.
"Alright," Drew shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. "Can you leave the key under the mat?"
"You have your own key, Drew."
He didn't, actually. Drew lost his key months ago, and had told him that. His father had said he'd make a new copy for him, but, well- here he is, without a key.
It was fine. He'd just leave the back door unlocked.
"K." He climbed the last few steps, heading towards his room. He ignored the feeling of eyes on his back.
When he opened the door to his room, he saw a copy of the new Zelda game laying on his desk. Presumably from his father. It was fine, he told himself as he dropped his backpack to the floor of the bedroom. Drew knew that was his way of apologizing.
Eight Hours Earlier
"You can borrow some of my clothes if you need to."
Drew looked away from the sink, toothbrush still in his mouth. He spat into the sink, wiping his face. "I'm alright. I'll just wear the clothes I wore yesterday."
Liam's mouth twisted into a frown as he pulled on a sleeveless jacket over his t-shirt. "You sure? Someone might notice."
I think someone might be more likely to notice if I show up to school wearing your clothes, he thought wryly. Out loud, he said "I doubt it. I wear a slightly different variation of a black hoodie and jeans every day, anyways."
Liam reached around him to grab a pair of socks. "Ok, yeah, fair. At least let me lend you one of my black hoodies?" Drew looked over at him, putting the spare toothbrush away. "It won't be good on my conscience if I let you walk around all day in the clothes you slept in."
Drew just raised an eyebrow. Liam smiled back. "Indulge me this once, yeah?" He reached into the closet and pulled out a plain black hoodie, holding it out to him.
Drew rolled his eyes, but he took it.
"There we go!" Liam said, only somewhat patronizingly. Drew flipped him off. "Alright, I'm gonna go get my school stuff together, yeah? I'll see you in the living room."
Drew watched Liam leave down the hallway, then turned back to the mirror. Still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he found his gaze wandering to his cheek.
At the first few glances, it looked like nothing had happened. You'd have to be determined to notice the faint scratches by his ear and by his jaw from his father's nails and wedding ring, respectively.
He was honestly surprised he still wore it, with how loveless that marriage was by now. Drew wasn't even sure his mother wore hers outside of business meetings.
He tore his eyes away from his face, looking down at Liam's hoodie. Here goes nothing.
---
"Thank you for driving us," Drew said as he stepped out of Liam's mother's car.
"Oh, nonsense." She waved him off. "I drive Liam to school on my way to work every day."
Drew rubbed the back of his neck. "Still. Thank you."
Her gaze softened. "Anytime, dear."
Liam turned to him as she drove away. "You ready? You've got Mr. Richardson's class first today."
Drew groaned. He had no clue what he was going to say as an excuse for his homework. It's not like he could say 'Sorry, it's sitting untouched in my backpack, which I also don't have, because my dad threw me out of the house last night.' That would just land him with a counselor and social services.
He ran a hand over his face.
"I'll take that as a no, then." Liam said awkwardly as they turned to head into the school.
On their way through the gates, they ran into Stacy. Or rather, Stacy ran into them. Literally.
For the second time in 24 hours, Drew found himself on the ground with the air knocked out of his lungs. It took a good amount of self restraint to not wince when he landed right on the still tender bruises from yesterday. He dragged himself into a sitting position, rubbing his back. It took a second for him to process what had just happened.
Essentially, Stacy was running for some reason, she ran into Liam, who in consequence knocked into Drew, landing all three of them on the ground.
Yeah, okay. Why not.
Stacy was back on her feet, rambling apologies. "-Was in a rush because I was already in my seat when I remembered I had to drop off my project for Mr. Deley's class, and we hardly have 15 minutes before class starts. And I have to get the poster to Elliot for GSA too-" Drew interupted her.
"Listen, if you've got to do all that, you certainly don't have time to explain all of it to us." He told her bluntly.
"Right!" She pointed a finger at him, hauling her backpack back over her shoulders. She kept moving in the direction she was going when she knocked into them. As she ran off, tying her hair up all the while, she shouted over her shoulder "Sorry, again!"
"You alright, man?" Liam moved to help him up. Drew just grumbled in response, grabbing his hand.
Liam laughed. "What a start to the day, huh?"
---
"Hey, Drew." Henry whispered loudly from the seat next to him. Drew ignored him the same way he had the last seven times he'd said it. "Drew!" At his lack of response, Henry huffed. "Fine, I'll just not do the worksheet, I guess."
Drew rolled his eyes, but turned to him. "What do you need?" He whispered back.
"A pencil."
Drew narrowed his eyes at him. "Do I look like I have a spare pencil? I don't even have a backpack." He pointed the mechanical pencil he was holding to his left. "I'm borrowing this pencil from Lia. Borrow one from your table partner or something."
"Boys!" Mr. Richardson said sternly from behind his desk. "Stop gossiping and do your work. Especially you, Mr. Velasco, as you didn't do the homework. Lord knows you need to focus."
A few giggles sounded around the room, one of which from Milly, who was in the seat behind him. He grit his teeth, suddenly glad that the pencil he was holding was mechanical. Had it been a regular one, he likely would have snapped it in half.
---
He put his head down on the table at lunch, groaning into his arms. Liam patted the back of his head supportively, sitting down across from him.
"Cheer up, Drew!" Henry said unhelpfully. Drew raised his head slightly for the sake of glowering at him. "Hey, listen! You have art next class! You can get all your angst out by spattering stuff on your canvas."
"Hey, yeah!" Liam chimed in. "One time, Daisy was really frustrated for some reason, and she tore parts of the canvas to get her anger out! Then she painted some stuff to fit around it and called it interpretive art." He chuckled. "I'm fairly certain Mrs. Zemaitis still has it displayed."
Drew picked his head up off his hands. "That piece was hers?" He blinked. "Daisy, angry. Huh. That I'd like to see."
"Speaking of," Henry said, grinning and pointing to a point behind Drew. He turned around to see Jake walking towards their table with his lunch tray.
Jake sat down next to him, smiling. "Hey guys."
They all greeted him. "Hey Jake!!" "Hey, man." "Hi."
At Drew's mumble, Jake looked over at him. "You okay?"
Henry pulled his attention back. "Ignore him, he's on his period." Drew flipped him off, but it was mostly for show. He was grateful that he didn't have to answer that question.
Jake glanced back over at him, but seemed to be willing to let it rest.
He decided that yeah, he was looking forward to art class.
---
His canvas was next to Zander's today. Because of course it was.
Liam and Henry had been right though, he decided. Making mildly destructive art was pretty therapeutic. The paint on his fingertips dried in layers as he used them to smudge the paints around.
"Fingerpainting, are we?"
Drew's fingers stilled, and his eyes flickered over to the teen next to him. Based on what was on his canvas, he was going for realism. It was... a painting of Luke. Okay, gross.
He picked up the paintbrush he was using to get the splatter effect he was going for. "I'm going for abstract, actually, lovebird." Zander glared at him in response.
Drew dipped his brush in white paint, splattering more white dots and specks among the mess of reds and navy blues. It almost looked like a nebula or something, he mused. He felt Mrs. Zemaitis stop behind him, looking at his painting.
"Great work, Drew. I'm loving your approach to mixing colors." Drew glanced behind him, then at the paint on his fingers.
"Thanks." He said, turning back to his canvas. The teacher moved on.
He had a few moments of semi-peaceful painting before Zander leaned closer to his canvas. "What is it meant to be?"
Drew grit his teeth. He really had no frame of reference for whether Zander had meant that in a mean-spirited way, or if he was asking genuinely. So, he assumed the former and faced his paintbrush in his direction the next time he flicked it. Specks of white paint splattered on Zander's face, hair, and shirt. It really wasn't all that much paint, as there wasn't a lot left on the paintbrush, but it stood out starkly against Zander's dark hair and clothes.
The teen spluttered, red-faced. "I was actually asking!" He tried to wipe the paint off, but just ended up smudging it around. He glared at Drew, eyes wide.
Drew just snickered. "It's acrylic, it'll wash out."
Zander raised his hand, face red and teeth bared.
Drew raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes. "Are you actually about to tell on me like we're in elementary school?"
"No, I'm going to ask to go to the bathroom so I can wash the fucking paint out of my hair, you twat." Zander raised his hand higher.
Drew rolled his eyes, ignoring the brief conversation he had with Mrs. Zemaitis and the eyes burning a hole into the back of his head as Zander left the room.
He's so dramatic.
---
On his way out of the classroom, he stopped by one of the paintings on display. Sure enough, it had rips across the canvas, each of them looking almost methodical. The painting was done in mostly warm colors, the only exception being the swipes of green scattered throughout the canvas.
He glanced down at the description piece, finding that Daisy had titled it 'Great Expectations'. His brain was still having a hard time connecting Daisy and anger, but-
The title fit, he decided.
---
Present Time
Drew laid down like a starfish on his bed, letting the tension drip out of his shoulders.
Liam's hoodie was softer than the one he usually wore, he noticed. Likely because it was noticeably more worn down than his.
A persistent cold feeling (loneliness, a voice whispered, but was quickly brushed away) began to seep into his bones, and he crossed his arms, turning onto his side.
He pulled his phone out, opening a text conversation with Liam and Henry. He considered adding Jake, but decided against it. He didn't know yet, and Drew would hold onto that for as long as he could.
hey, are you guys busy?