Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
i'm sure you're doing fine (but i don't wanna hear it)
The heat melted the minutes into something almost incomprehensible, the seconds ticking by slowly until the hours merged together and nobody could quite tell what time of day it truly was.
Until the final bell sounded. Sharp and shrill, breaking through the haze that had formed in the classroom. The room had emptied out almost immediately, teenagers pushing and shoving through forming crowds in the corridors, piling together and forcing themselves out of the front doors and off school campus. As the school quieted down and the hallways emptied, there stood an enraged Wilson and the displeased camp coordinator in the deserted classroom.
“I understand that you're upset about this but there's nothing I can do for you anymore. Rooms have been assigned and can’t be changed. I’m sorry, Wilson.” Miss Browne-Davis absently flicked through the pile of roommate request slips, checking through them one last time as if she had simply missed Wilson’s request.
Wilson sighed, rolling his eyes. “I'm telling you that I filled out my roommate request, it's not fair that I have to share a tent with a random person who I probably don't even know!”
“I'm sure that it’ll be alright, you'll just make a new friend. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to go to now. Have a great rest of your day.”
Wilson attempted to negotiate with her once more, opening his mouth to form yet another argument but she was already ushering him out of the room. Standing across the hallway leaning against the lockers was Heather, her black curls falling over her shoulders as she tilted her head up to look at him approach.
“Spoke to miss?” She asked, brushing her hair back from her face with the tips of her fingers.
Wilson sighed, coming to stand next to her. “She basically told me to suck it up and she literally kicked me out, in what universe is this fair?”
“Seriously? That's so dumb. At least you find out who you're paired with tomorrow so it'll be less of a surprise.”
He let out a humourless laugh. “The bare minimum.”
“I mean, it could be worse, right? You could be paired with, like, Brando. But I’m sure he already put his slip in asking to stay with like, Michael.” Heather tried to reassure him.
Wilson laughed again, breathy and hollow. “Yeah, of course he’d stay with Michael. At least it’s not me.”
“Hold on, my hair looks like a mess right now, I'll be back.” Heather started off down the hall, her footsteps loud against the polished flooring.
Her hand closed around the door handle to the woman's restroom when a familiar silhouette turned the corner. Brando.
She looked over her shoulder briefly, just about catching his eye as he walked past, heading the direction she just came from.
Wilson then saw Brando, that familiar feeling spiking in his stomach, hatred probably, but he kept his head down, attempting to avoid eye contact as Brando passed him.
Brando had taken two steps past Wilson, when Wilson decided he needed to speak with him. He lifted a hand to catch him on the shoulder, stopping Brando in his path just enough to turn him around slightly.
Suddenly, ocean blue eyes met Wilson’s chestnut brown ones.
Wilson’s eyes hardened immediately, his gaze quickly flicking back to where Heather had disappeared behind the bathroom door before he spoke, his voice a low, quiet hiss.
“Do you not realise that she’s not into people like you? Just stay away from her.”
He dropped his hand from Brando’s shoulder then, quick and harsh like it had burned him.
Brando blinked at him, swallowed, and then turned on his heels and started down the hall, muttering something inaudible into the thick Texas heat as he went, something Wilson couldn’t hear.
Wilson heard the bathroom door hinges squeak behind him, heard her boots clicking against the floor before he saw her.
Heather came to stand beside him, following his gaze to the spot where Brando disappeared down the hall.
“You saw him?” She turned her head slightly to look at him, his jaw tight and teeth clenched, the same expression he always tended to wear when Brando had been passing.
Wilson sighed, sharp and frustrated. “Yep.” He paused slightly, frustration making way for a dull rage. “It’s just- he’s so obviously into you. It disgusts me because he doesn’t even take into account that you might be- Like, whenever we're together he's always looking at you and it just, it gets to a point.”
Heather looked behind her, back at the bathroom door. “I don't get why he was just hanging around the ladies room.”
Wilson shook his head. “I don’t know and I don’t want to.”
Heather chuckled slightly, breaking up some of the tension. “I have, like, zero expectations for this guy, he's been like this since middle school. Ever since you two- sorry, nevermind.”
Wilson’s shoulders dropped a little, but he plastered a smile on his face. “Right, sleepover at mine?”
Heather nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
The wheels of Heather’s Mercedes Benz crunched over the gravel of the Georgetown High School parking lot as she pulled out and onto the road leading towards Wilson’s house.
Wilson sat crossed legged in the passenger seat, head leant against the window as he listened to Heather talk about her day. She rambled about an incident that had happened in her history class that morning, something to do with five kids getting detention. But Wilson wasn’t really listening, and Heather knew that.
Heather cleared her throat, an amused smirk beginning to form on her face. “So,” she began. “When are you finally going to get your license? Fourth time's the charm, hmm?”
Wilson groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the seat. “I swear they genuinely fail me for no reason, it's literally not my fault.”
Heather blinked. “The first time you almost hit some kid-”
“It's not my fault he just ran into the street!” Wilson protested.
Heather continued. “Second time you ran a red light.”
“It was literally green when I started to drive!”
“And the last time you drove into a tree. Like, you actually ran straight into a tree, Wilson.”
Wilson shrunk a little in his seat. “Okay, I admit that time was my fault, but I genuinely didn't see it.”
Heather sighed fondly. “You should consider getting your eyesight checked.”
“I already have contacts, I just… forgot to wear them that day.” Wilson insisted.
“Of course you did.”
Wilson’s house finally came into view, perched on the corner of the street.
His fathers car was, once again, vacant from the two parking spaces reserved for Wilson’s family just outside of his house, and so Heather pulled into the empty space.
She put the car in park, got out of the car and walked up Wilson’s front porch with such a confidence you would think she was the one living here.
Wilson followed behind, a little slower, fumbling in his back pocket for his house keys before pulling them out and unlocking the front door, giving it a little kick to open it properly.
Wilson barely had time to open the door fully when Oscar came barrelling forward, pushing past Wilson with no shame and throwing himself instantly at Heather.
“Heather!” Oscar shrieked with delight, as if it had been years since he had seen her and not mere hours.
Heather’s entire face lit up with joy. “Oscar! My favourite boy ever! How was your day?”
“So, I'm right here.” Wilson interjected, feigning offense but a small, fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth just watching them.
“I have so much to tell you!” Oscar squealed, yanking on Heather’s arm and pulling her into the house.
“Oscar, at least let Heather get situated first.” Wilson chuckled.
Oscar’s brows furrowed slightly. “What does ‘sitaded’ mean?”
Wilson shook his head, smiling properly now.
Oscar pulled Heather down to sit next to him on the couch, whispering something to her like it was their own little secret.
Wilson plopped down in the space to the left of Heather, huffing dramatically as if he was being left out of something major.
Heather then prepared herself to give the best advice she could to an 8 year old. “Now tell me everything that happened between you and that girl in your class.”
Oscar gasped as if he was offended he hadn’t told her yet. “So, her friends said that she couldn't stop talking about me during recess and I asked one of them if it was in a good way or like, a mean way and she laughed! But it was like a funny laugh so I don’t know what that means!”
“Is this the same girl that “cheated” on you? The one that held hands with your friend?” Wilson questioned, deadly serious.
Heather laughed to herself at the reminder and Wilson’s brother began to pout. “I still like her though!”
Wilson thinks for a moment. “Are you sure her friend didn't laugh because she found you ridiculous?” He added.
Heather elbowed him in the ribs, not even looking over.. “Stop being mean to him, Wilson.”
Wilson scoffed. “You really do love him more than me, huh?”
“Yes.” Heather didn’t even hesitate.
Wilson threw a hand to his chest, as if he were hurt, but he couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled out. “Okay, fine. Well, whilst you two are being best friends, I'm going to prepare my room for us. Don't give him any ideas.” He gestured at Oscar with his shoulder as he stood up from the couch and headed upstairs.
Heather shrugged and simply continued chatting to his brother, Wilson could hear exaggerated gasps at every new development in Oscar’s story from upstairs.
Wilson opened the door to his bedroom, the hinges squeaking slightly as the door dragged against the carpet, leaving a mark.
Posters lined the dark blue walls of his bedroom, everything from artists he loved, to polaroids of him and Heather and Blake from when they were children to just last week.
A hoodie was draped over the back of his desk chair, something that hadn’t been touched in weeks but made for a nice accessory.
Wilson spent the next 10 minutes shoving any stray clothes that were sitting in piles on his floor into his closet and drawers, hoping to make his room look somewhat presentable, even if it was just Heather.
After a good twenty minutes, Heather finally emerged at the threshold of Wilson’s bedroom, stepping in timidly before getting comfortable. Wilson didn’t have time to say anything before she practically slumped into his bean bag chair by the window.
“Well hello to you too.” Wilson laughed, coming to sit cross legged on the carpet in front of her.
“Wilson, I love Oscar to pieces, but how the hell does he have more interesting love lives than us?” She sighed.
Wilson giggled at that, looking towards the door quickly and then back at Heather. “I don’t even know. He’s eight and has this whole love triangle thing going on and I am freaking 17 and haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”
“Well, it’s a good thing Blake’s having her party tomorrow then isn’t it… You know, start of summer, meet new people-”
Wilson cut her off instantly. “No. Nope. Stop right there.”
“There’s really nobody you're interested in?”
“No, not really. No one really appeals to me, I keep getting hit on by this one girl who I don't even know the name of. She's really nice but I don't think she's able to take a hint, or many hints.” He chuckled to himself, eyes dropping to the floor, fingers twisting a loose bit of carpet around and around until it snapped off.
The conversation went back and forth like that for a while, talking about everything and nothing at the same time:
“You literally said I was your best friend.”
“Yes, well, Wilson, a girl can change her mind.”
“Well if you want to go hang out with Oscar then-”
“Maybe I will.”
“What about magnetic flux density?”
“What about it?”
“No, like, what is it?"
“Wilson, I don’t know.”
“Helpful.”
“I want dinner."
“Mom’s making it right now.”
“I want snacks then.”
“Should’ve brought some."
“You hate me.”
“Sure.”
“That’s so rude.”
“Oh dear I’m so painfully sorry."
“Wilson.”
“Heather.”
“Wilson, Heather! Dinner’s ready!” Wilson’s mothers voice, soft and gentle as ever, called from the bottom of the stairs.
Heather jumped up instantly and took off down the stairs, no hesitation, just hunger.
Wilson followed a step behind, laughing softly at her enthusiasm.
The table was set, four bowls of Wilson’s mother’s famous spaghetti on each table mat.
“It looks delicious, Ellen.” Heather commented as she sat down in her usual spot next to Wilson.
And as Wilson’s family and Heather sat down at the table for dinner, Wilson didn’t give one thought to the boy that had lingered in the hallway earlier that day, and prayed he never would again.