Chapter Text
Lunchtime. A time to unwind from class and fully enjoy the use of their phones without the critical, watchful eyes of their teachers looking over their shoulders. Waylon didn’t feel like eating but he did need to speak to Miles, like, now.
Waylon took a deep breath through his nose then scanned the cafeteria for a familiar face and a head of messy, hand-combed hair. Of course, how hard was it to locate a teenager with a beat up brown jacket. He saw his friend quickly and tried to wave his attention. Miles didn’t look up from his lap. He appeared focused, eyes filled with awe and concentration. Waylon sighs very gently and with a roll of his eyes he walks over to sit beside his best friend. Miles was alone. Perfect.
God. He could feel his armpits becoming a little damp from perspiration and his hands were still clammy. As soon as he sat down he felt small hits of irrational worry. What did he just do? What if she found his note and laughed. What if she posts her reaction online for everyone at school to see? Or worse…she doesn’t see his note at all and someone asks her out?
It seemed like Miles hadn’t noticed the presence of his best friend and occasional back up camera guy. In his lap he had a shiny new digital camera, fiddling, and testing out all of its features. Waylon eyeballed it and wondered how he managed to smooth talk his mother to lend him the money after Chris Walker had totaled the last one. Miles was a photographer and editor for the yearbook but his main passion was invested in hunting for hot stories for the school newspaper.
He shook his head, and wiped his sweaty palms against his legs. Mile’s camera was at the bottom of his interests right now. He finally spoke since it was clear Miles would likely go through all of lunch period without noticing that he’d shown up. “Hey…I did it.” He sounded a little breathless to his own surprise.
“You sure did, Way…” he’d mumbled distractedly. He didn’t sound surprised that Waylon was there. He had seen him in his peripheral vision. He was just so proud of his new baby that he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. “...french fry me, Way. I don’t wanna get greasy prints on my new camera.” he leaned in and opened his mouth.
Really? Miles expected him to hand feed him? Waylon’s lip lifted up into a temporary sneer gazing at his friend trying his best to impersonate an expectant baby bird. “Don’t be weird.” He pushed his friend back to arm length distance and sighed. “Did you even hear me? I said I did it…I…I…” he dropped his voice a little softer, almost to a whisper, “you know…I did the plan?”
“…Plan?” he hadn’t know at first but then realization dawned on him and he did remember not even a moment later. “Park.” He turned to face him, half smirking and half looking at him with a disbelieving expression. “I was kidding when I told you that.” He let out a breathy laugh, “Notes in the locker? Seriously? Dude no one leaves notes in peoples’ lockers anymore. It’s outdated! Why didn’t you just talk to her like I told you.”
Waylon flinched. “Because I…well I…” It certainly wasn’t the fact that he starts to sweat and his throat closes up whenever he spoke to girls. No way. “I…” he made a faintly audible ‘psh’. “You call it outdated but I call it being classy. This way she’s not put on the spot, you know? She’ll see my note, think about it and then when we meet up again I’ll ask her…” Logically it all seemed like a well thought out notion but he didn’t know if he was convincing himself or Miles.
“Yeah, sure…suuuuuuure” Miles stabbed a bunch of fries with a plastic spork he’d used for his pudding cup and stuffed them into his mouth, “….mh..” he grinned, “Aht les’ tell me….you di’nt do somethin’ corny li’e……write’a poem on th’ note?”
Waylon made a face from his friend talking to him with his mouth full. He felt tense from the rest because…he may or may not have spent all night writing a poem asking Lisa to be his future prom date. “…uhm…n-no?” He didn’t make eye contact with Miles.
Miles swallowed the food in his mouth then used his jacket sleeve for a napkin. “…You didn’t…right?” he could tell, though in fairness Waylon wasn’t difficult at all, he’d been training himself to spot when people are lying or covering something up. “…you did” Waylon’s continued silence was enough. He let out a laugh. It was too funny imagining his nerdy friend trying something out of his comfort zone like poetry. Knowing him the poem was likely something nerdy too.
Waylon’s face was flushed with embarrassment. He began to doubt himself some more. “Nice talk..” he rose up to leave but a hand taking his wrist stopped him.
“Whoa, Way, chill! I’m sorry, okay? Don’t get mad…” he grinned and silently coaxed his friend to sit down. “How long ago was it when you left that note? If you tell me where her locker is I can sneak it back out before your next period starts” he was a wily one, at least he considered himself to be, he’d have to be if he wanted to be a serious investigative journalist. He’d also be lying if he wasn’t a little curious what Waylon had written to Lisa. Maybe…even just slightly, just the tiniest, we’re talking a smidgen, jealous.
“…You think it’s that bad?” he didn’t even know if he could get to Lisa’s locker at this point. They were already nearing closer to the end of lunch period. If he hadn’t been freaking out before, well, he was now.
Miles paused, thinking for the right words carefully before he’d say them to his now self-conscious friend. He looked like he had something to say but closed his mouth promptly when someone new arrived at their table. “…Oh. Great.” Now this douche. He’d take another round being chased by Walker then have to talk to captain shitbag.
Jeremy Blaire, the self appointed hall monitor, had arrived. “Well. You’re both right where I’d assumed you’d be.” He muttered low but loud enough for the two to hear him, “Who else would sit with you two losers.” He picked at his clean cut nails while he spoke then met Miles with a smirk. “I see you got a new toy there. You know there’s better ways to piss away what little money your family makes, Upshur? Better yet…do them a favor and drop out of high school. We both know you’re not going to amount to much so-”
“Blaire! Feel free to take as much offense from this question as possible! What the fuck do you want.” Miles would ask in an overly exagerated pleasant and polite tone. He forgot about Waylon for the time being. If there was anyone that got his temper going it was Jeremy fucking Blaire.
Jeremy's lip turned up into a sneer. He scoffed gently and said, “Fine. I’ll cut short our pleasantries and get to the point.” He glanced at Waylon and gestured to him with a lazy point of his index finger. “I came for him.” He stared down at the blond with an eyebrow raised and a smirk.
Waylon looked surprised. That wasn’t never a good thing. Waylon never broke rules but it wouldn’t be the first time Jeremy Blaire got a student in trouble just on his word. His father was on the school board which he proudly, and smugly, made sure to remind everyone on daily basis. Even the principal had been wrapped around Blaire’s finger. “wh-”
“What for?” Miles interrupted. Waylon was a good kid but he was a nervous talker and had a terrible poker face. He wasn’t going to let him handle Jeremy by himself as long as he could help it.
“Oh. Well…Mr. Park thinks I didn’t see him walking out of class to slip a note into someone’s locker but I see everything.” He had only just began too. “And..you know…technically I ought to write him up for abusing his teacher’s trust as well as the privilege of a bathroom pass but…out of the kindness of my heart I’d thought I’d look the other way. Just this once for poor, little Park here…considering the circumstances and all.”
Waylon looked confused, he looked to Mile hoping for an explanation but Miles was looking to him hoping he’d be able to explain. So both boys exchanged confused expressions and a moment of silence. He asked first before Miles felt the need to speak for him again. “What circumstances?” he had a feeling, a very bad feeling, he’d regret asking. Jeremy’s mouth formed a shit eating grin. Miles and Waylon had come to greatly dislike it in their time knowing the unpleasantly snobby teenager.
Jeremy feigned shock despite this and asked them, “You don’t know? And you don’t know either? Miles Upshur I am shocked.” He inhaled, “That makes this about ten times more hilarious.” He exhaled. “Park. You are as adorable as you are pathetic. That locker you slipped a note to? You probably thought that locker belonged to a girl named Lisa, am I right?” He waited for Waylon to nod but held his hand up to prevent an interruption. “I’m not at the best part yet. I was in the office today and heard that as of yesterday, your little crush had been assigned a different locker.”
He waited. First came disbelief, then came the shock then came the dawning realization and then the panic that gave Jeremy the satisfaction he’d been looking for.
“…T-..then wh-..who…” His face paled a bit. He wanted to run somewhere and hide until the school day was over. This was going to be so awkward for whomever did get his note meant for Lisa. He felt Miles put his hand on his back. It didn’t comfort him much when his mind raced and Jeremy could only barely manage to hide his smugness behind the cover of fake sympathy.
“I know who…and Miles does too, I’m sure. He just returned this morning from his suspension, you know. That senior everyone talked about after he…what did he do again? …Oh that’s right, he lost his temper and shoved a poor girl down the stairs. Eddie Gluskin, as you might remember.”
“…Holy shit.” Miles said before anything else. Double crap up the river of crap. That was so bad. Gluskin was almost as bad as Walker when it came to managing his anger. At least Walker didn’t take his anger out on girls like Gluskin did. At least Walker never shoved someone down the stairs because he’d found out the other didn’t want to date or see him anymore. Gluskin should have been rightfully expelled for what he did but, somehow, he managed to dodge, just barely, when he agreed to work with the consolers in some anger management program outside of school hours.
Waylon stiffened up like a plank. His face blanched a bit from this news. What could he say? Of course he knew who Gluskin was. He was just one of many troubled students of their high school. As far as rumors and what Miles told him when they started out the school year trying to learn who everyone was anyways.
“Way, relax. For all we know Gluskin probably hasn’t even used his locker yet. Have you ever seen him bring a backpack to school? Blaire’s just trying to scare you.” It certainly would not be the first time ‘Jerkemy’ Blaire here had gotten a student worked up for kicks.
“On a normal day, you’d probably would be right. But. No. I’m very serious. I was the one personally escorted Gluskin to his new locker after all.” He checked the time on his shiny wrist watch. “I wouldn’t worry though. He should only be here…right about now.” Not a second later did the senior they were just talking about came into their view.
Gluskin’s entrance didn’t go unnoticed. There were students that turned away but others stared openly and whispered among themselves. Some didn’t seem to care but it seemed not many students had known Gluskin’s suspension had been up or even that he’d been allowed to come back to school. Eddie hadn’t moved further in from the entrance. His eyes were scanning, as if trying to locate.
Jeremy shot his hand up and called out, “Gluskin!” His gaze immediately landed on the younger teen and his scowl deepened. He didn’t care for Jeremy at all but at least he kept his promise in showing him which one of these freshmen was Waylon Park. Park’s little…note…having been tucked safely into his jacket pocket.
Jeremy’s grin widens as he sees Gluskin make his way towards Mile’s and Waylon’s lunch table. As he hoped, Gluskin looked disgruntled. He relished the look of dismay on Park’s face and the look of open scorn on Mile’s expression. “He looks mad……well. Have fun with that, Mr. Park.” He’s glad he didn’t bust the nerd. He wouldn’t have been able to witness the contact and collision of the freaks. He anticipated a wonderfully, hilarious train wreck about to happen.
All the while Waylon had froze. Gluskin was on route to him and he could do nothing but let it happen or make a run for it. Would the senior chase him? If so, there’s no way he could hope to outrun or escape. Eddie wouldn’t hit him with this many witnesses would he? He just got back from being suspended!
“Way…Way…Park!” Miles whispered with a bit of urgency. He had been poking him since Jeremy had sauntered off somewhere to watch like the little asshole he was. “I need you to listen to me, all right? We’re going to get through this but you gotta let me do the talking…are you listening to me?” he cupped his friend’s face and forced eye contact. “Listen. I got this. Leave it to Miles, okay? Just breathe, don’t freak out.”
Waylon nodded slowly, then he gasped for a breathe of air when he realized he’d been holding it in since Jeremy had left. “Okay…okay…” he inhaled and exhaled.
He’d never had to talk to Eddie with the only thing being a lunch table spacing them apart but even still. From where he was sitting the senior was quite tall for his age, fair skinned. The way he was dressed was odd, Waylon thought. His shoes were not sneakers but a pair of beat up dress shoes. It almost seemed like Eddie raided the lost and found at some retirement home. He had on black slacks, a blue button up shirt which was tucked into his pants. Nothing about him really seemed he was dressed for this decade but he tried his best to keep a tidy appearance. His head was shaved on both sides with the hair remaining on top combed and slicked back neatly. His shoulders were broadening, his neck was on the thick side, he wore black fingerless gloves and had sharp blue eyes.
Waylon felt a chill just now and it wasn’t from the cafeteria being cold. He didn’t like the way the senior was looking down at him and not saying anything. He felt like he was being checked out like some slab of fresh meat. He tried to read Eddie’s face but he can’t tell if the senior is displeased or not. His face was calmer now but he wasn’t radiating friendliness either.
“So…you’re Waylon…Park?” His voice was clear, smooth, and deep. When he spoke first Miles interjected rather quickly.
“And I’m Miles Upshur! Now that we got all these introductions out of the way. How about you do yourself a favor and just walk away? Park here doesn’t need any trouble and I’m sure you can’t afford any trouble either after your little…altercation with that girl you pushed, yeah? Waylon is sorry. It’s all good, we’re good. There’s no need t-”
“Miles Upshur..was it? …I don’t think I was talking to you. No one was talking to you. So kindly stay out of this.” He didn’t like Upshur one bit. He knew all about how the brat got into everyone’s business looking for something to make a story out of. He was also well aware of his interactions with Chris Walker and disapproved immensely. Upshur was nosy and he didn’t know when to quit. He took a calming breathe. He didn’t need to get agitated. He turned a deaf ear on Miles after this, choosing to observe Waylon once more.
Waylon was…a runt compared to him. Nothing about him really stood out outside from the fact he noted that the boy had amazing bone structure. He was not a natural blonde, Eddie noted to himself. “…we’ve met before, haven’t we? I know I’ve seen your face…” he couldn’t pin where exactly but it triggered something in his memory. Poor thing was all stiff and looked quite nervous. So much for hoping his reputation hadn’t reached the freshmen.
“I want to talk to you, Waylon Park, but not here. After school…we should talk about…” he glanced around before putting out the hand crafted note that started it all out of his pocket. “…this.” He mumbled low, seemingly embarrassed, but that faded as fast as it showed on his face. He chose to keep it rather than return it to Waylon for some strange reason.
“…u-uhm…” Well that worked excellently. That’s sarcasm. Miles was still talking but Eddie Gluskin was going a wonderful job pretending not to hear him. His blue eyes were staring him in his own brown ones. “…o-oh……well….okay?” he saw Miles gaping at him from the corner of his peripheral vision and felt like his friend had punched him in the gut without actually doing it. Maybe Eddie did just want to talk? He could hope…right…right? It seemed to please Eddie because he gave Waylon a smirk.
“Good.” Eddie gave Waylon another look up and down. “I’m awfully sorry for us to have to meet like this with such short notice but now that I know your face…” he held his hand out to Waylon. “Eddie Gluskin.
Waylon stared at the hand…unsure but recognized it was an offer to handshake. It took him by surprise. He seemed polite but the way people talked about him you would have thought he’d been some sort of thug just like Walker. He took a hold of the senior’s hand. He felt inadequate somehow by the size difference of their hands. “…Waylon Park.” But of course he knew that and didn’t know why they were being so formal.
Eddie surprised him by pulling on his arm. His face was a lot closer now to Waylon’s face than it was a second ago. “You will meet me after school, won’t you?” he smiles at the freshmen. “You won’t have to force Eddie to come looking for you…will you?” He wanted to talk and he didn’t like his time being wasted. His tone and his smile suggested friendliness but his eyes suggested otherwise. They told Waylon to think carefully and chose his words with care.
“…Yeah…I will meet you.” He said, slowly, Eddie’s grip on his hand was firm but it wasn’t hurting him. He felt like he was in survival mode. He didn’t want Eddie to become upset with him or make a scene either. Waylon wasn’t a fighter and he lacked Miles's gall so he went with the most passive response. “okay?”
“Okay…” he let go of Waylon’s hand slowly and straightened back up. “…Well…enjoy the rest of your lunch” he exhaled, stuck his hands into his pockets then he just…left.
Both boys were left with a very, very uncomfortable silence following Gluskin’s departure. Waylon refused to make eye contact with Miles but Miles had no objection to staring at him with a wide eye expression.
“…Park…what the hell.”