Chapter Text
You weren’t well-known in your small neighborhood, and you liked it that way. You preferred the quiet, losing yourself in sketches and doodles. Art had always been your escape, your way of making sense of the world. People often told you that you had talent—maybe someday you’d make something out of it.
Most afternoons, you found yourself drawn to the nearby softball field, not because of the game itself, but because of the energy. Some matches were calm, others were wild and unpredictable, and you enjoyed both. Sitting under the shade of a tree, sketchbook in hand, you captured the movement, the chaos, the fleeting moments.
But the truth was, you never really tried to talk to anyone here. You missed Mexico—the streets, the warmth, the familiarity. Your parents had decided to move, and now you were here. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t home. So, you kept to yourself, finding comfort in your art.
—
As you sat beneath the tree, pencil gliding across the page, your eyes flickered toward the same three figures you always noticed lingering under the bleachers.
They were different from the rest, something about them standing out from the usual softball crowd. A little sketchy, maybe, but interesting. And interesting meant they ended up in your sketchbook more than once.
One of them was a guy in a ridiculous duck costume—he made you laugh every time. Then there was a girl, average height, with two ponytails and sharp eyes. She looked like the kind of person who always had a plan.
And then there was him.
The tall one. The one with the easy confidence and the kind of face that made you glance twice. You caught yourself staring more often than you wanted to admit. He was cute—undeniably so—but that didn’t mean you’d ever actually go up to him.
No, you were perfectly fine watching from a distance, letting your pencil do the talking.
. . .
As you finished your sketch, you absentmindedly tapped the pen against your chin, twirling it between your fingers before letting it glide through the air like a tiny airplane.
Until—whoosh.
Your grip slipped, and the pen tumbled out of your fingers, landing right beside the “bleacher creatures’” hangout spot.
Your stomach dropped. No. No, no, no. That was your favorite pen. You couldn’t just leave it there! But approaching them? That was practically suicide.
You swallowed hard, nerves creeping up your spine. Maybe if you just… snuck over? Kept quiet, low to the ground, grabbed it, and ran?
Taking a deep breath, you got on your knees and crawled forward, eyes locked on the trio beneath the bleachers. They were huddled together, clearly in the middle of something—scheming? Their voices were low, tense.
“Then what’s a better plan, huh?! BRIAN! Since you know everything!” the girl huffed, stomping her foot.
The tall boy—Brian—leaned lazily against a bleacher pole, arms crossed. “Maybe one that doesn’t involve you. I’m the leader!” he snapped.
“Unbelievable. You are unbelievable!” the girl groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.
You were so close now. Just a few more inches, and—
“QUACK!!”
You flinched as the duck-costumed man blurted out a loud honk of a quack, immediately drawing attention to you.
Three pairs of eyes snapped in your direction.
“How much of that did you hear?” the girl gasped, looking instantly defensive.
Brian shot her a look. “Shut it. Anyway, who are you?” He shoved the girl aside and stepped forward, looking down at you with a sharp gaze.
You froze, finally getting a close look at him. And—oh. He was cute. Stupidly cute.
Your brain stalled, but Brian impatiently waved a hand in front of your face. “Uh… hello??”
Snapping out of it, you cleared your throat. “Sorry! I was just trying to get my pen.” You tried to sound casual, but your voice wavered slightly.
Brian’s smirk grew as he lifted his foot—revealing your pen underneath. He stepped down just lightly on it, enough to make your breath hitch.
“One condition,” he said, hands on his hips. “Then we might let you go.”
You hesitated, looking between him and the pen. “What… condition?”
“You help us!” the girl piped up, standing beside Brian with a grin.
Your brows furrowed. “Help you how?”
“Quack,” the duck-costumed man added, much softer this time.
“Oh! Where are our manners?” The girl clapped her hands together. “I’m Rinna, and this nuisance is Brian.” She promptly smacked Brian’s hat off his head.
Brian groaned, rolling his eyes as he bent down to grab it. “Big talk for someone who ruins almost every mission.”
“HEY!” Rinna scowled, stomping her foot again.
You forced a nervous smile. “I’m… Y/N.”
Brian and Rinna exchanged a glance before Brian turned back to you. “Okay, here’s the deal.”
He pointed across the field at a snack shack, run by a middle-aged lady.
“You help us steal from there.”
Your blood ran cold. “What?”
Brian shrugged. “Seems fair to me.”
Your stomach twisted. Steal? No way. That wasn’t you. You weren’t some delinquent.
“No! That’s horrible.” You shook your head.
Brian’s smirk faltered. His expression darkened.
“You want your pen back or not?” He pressed his foot down just a little harder, the weight threatening to snap it in half. But before he did, he eased up—just barely.
You swallowed, overthinking every possible way out of this. You were raised to do the right thing, to be fair. And this? This wasn’t fair.
Rinna crossed her arms. “And how do we know you won’t rat us out?”
Your breath caught.
“FINE!” The word burst out before you could stop it. Your hands clenched into fists. “Okay.”
Brian’s smirk returned, victorious.
You weren’t laughing anymore. Neither was the duck-costumed man. Suddenly, he didn’t seem so funny.
—
Your job was simple—distract the lady while Brian and Rinna snuck in through the back vent.
Taking a deep breath, you approached the counter, brushing dirt off your flared jeans. “Hey!! Uh… can I get…” You trailed off, pretending to study the options in front of you.
The cashier, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile, perked up. “Best choices in town! You might like this one,” she suggested, pointing to a snack on display.
Your chest tightened. She seemed so kind. Did you really have to do this?
Your eyes flickered to the vent just in time to see Brian reaching through, swiping snacks off the shelves.
“Uh—yeah!! Maybe like… five of those?” you stalled, feigning indecisiveness.
The lady hesitated. “Huh?” She started to turn around—
“OH! Wow!!” you blurted out, your voice a little too high. “I must say, you are gorgeous!”
That did the trick. She turned back, giggling. “Oh, well, thank you, sweetheart!”
You forced a grin, heart pounding. “Yeah! Uh—about those snacks—”
Meanwhile, Brian struggled to reach the higher shelves, grumbling under his breath. Rinna, growing impatient, shoved him aside. “Move. I’m starving.”
Brian huffed but let her take over. Big mistake.
Rinna reached too far—lost her balance—
CRASH.
A handful of snacks tumbled onto the floor.
The cashier’s smile vanished. “HEY!!”
Your stomach dropped.
Brian and Rinna scrambled back through the vent, clutching armfuls of stolen goods.
That was your cue.
You bolted, sprinting after them as the lady shouted behind you. Your pulse roared in your ears, regret clawing at your chest.
Brian and Rinna, on the other hand?
Laughing. LAUGHING.
Clutching their stolen snacks like trophies.
You groaned, breathless. Their intentions were horrible—and now you were part of it.
“That was—so funny!!” Brian cackled, leaning against the duck-costumed man. “The look on her face was priceless!”
“We hit the jackpot!” Rinna grinned, laying out the stolen snacks like a feast. It was enough to last them days.
Meanwhile, you were still trying to catch your breath. You weren’t used to sprinting, and your heart was hammering harder than ever.
Their laughter died down as their attention shifted back to you.
“Oh, right. Your pen.” Brian pulled it from his back pocket, twirling it between his fingers. “But, you know… you made this all happen.”
Your eyes widened slightly. Was that… praise? From him?
You exhaled, shaking off the strange feeling creeping up your spine. You shouldn’t be flustered—you should be mad. But instead, you just reached out, taking the pen from his hand.
Rinna sighed dramatically. “Shame to see you go,” she teased. “Not as a friend, but as a partner in crime.”
You gave her a flat look, but she only smirked.
“We’d love to see you again,” she added with a wink.
Brian said nothing—just smirked before turning on his heel, stuffing a bag of chips into his hoodie pocket as the trio strolled off.
You stood there for a moment, clutching your pen.
This should’ve been the last time you ever saw them.
But you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be.
And, if you were being honest with yourself…
Maybe a small part of you didn’t want it to be.
Maybe it had something to do with Brian.
Maybe.