Chapter Text
Monday, second period.
The lavender freshener in Ms. Jones’ class smells like it was just refilled today. Simply put, suffocating.
Every five minutes someone’s coughing their lungs out, or asking to leave to go to the bathroom.
Ms. Jones however insists that everyone can hold it in until her class is over (Sadie’s absence makes it weirder. Whatever happened to Miss Wimpy Jones who always asks Sadie for help?).
Constant ticking from the wall clock is the sole thing keeping Liam awake, and Henry in tandem, because Liam's jumpy and Henry just can't take his eyes off of the way his best friend wobbles like a bobble on a car dashboard when he’s a blink away from passing out.
It never fails to entertain him, time and time again. His hand twitches in Liam’s direction.
He lets impulse win and pinches Liam’s leg. The freckled boy jolts awake with a mousy squeal and it's the funniest thing ever.
Ms. Jones shoots her best angry-looking glare at them and they simultaneously pretend-whistle in opposite directions. She lets them off with a sigh.
Drew looks bored.
Completely unamused by the two’s antics, as usual, but what especially stands out is how he isn't rolling his eyes, or even scoffing.
Now he always looks like that, uninterested in anything and everything, even more so ever since he made the decision to switch places with some rando. Now he’s sitting next to…Mia, Nina, whatever her name is.
Her friend, the rando, didn't even fight for her seat when Drew very impolitely demanded. Though she might just be a fan of he-who-shall-not-be-named and really wanted to sit next to him.
Who knows, is what Liam would say, if said friend of hers doesn't constantly steal glances at her new deskmate.
She even ‘accidentally’ drops her pen in his direction, whispering apologies like she’s not beet red when it's returned to her and she's making the giddiest face once she thinks he’s not looking, silently kicking her feet.
The marker squeaking on the whiteboard stops longer than it should. In the span of ten seconds, everyone straightens up their posture.
“...Now, I assume all of you have already completed your projects.”
A single sentence sends the whole class into a whispering frenzy.
Drew’s not part of it, but his hand twitches. He sinks deeper into his god-awful posture as if to say no, you didn't see that, to no one in particular.
Ms. Jones continues talking despite the rising chatter. “So, hopefully you are all ready to present this Thursday. I look forward to seeing your hard work!” She exclaims with a smile.
The bell rings too late.
~~~~
Henry exhales like he’s been holding his breath for the last ten minutes.
“Finally, I thought I was gonna choke to death in there,” he jokes. Liam rolls his eyes.
“Good thing we’re out now,” Liam says, stretching, as he sneaks a brief glance at the classroom door. “ ‘Till Thursday, at least.”
“Ugh, don't remind me,” Henry grumbles between fingers, head in hands. Liam forces a wry laugh that devolves into a sigh.
Drew is way ahead of them, steps away from his own locker. Brad, Drew’s friend but only so much as acquaintances to Henry and Liam, goes out of his way to— hands empty —say hi despite his locker placed pretty damn far from Drew’s.
Drew, surprisingly, doesn't ignore Brad, rather chatting up a storm and even managing to evoke what seems like genuine laughter from him.
An extra pair of footsteps squeak from behind. Drew’s cool-and-unbothered-face falters for a split second, before he probably says something along the lines of, “I’m gonna go,” if Brad’s resigned reaction followed by a nod is anything to go by.
After Drew waves him goodbye, Brad’s smug expression twists into a curious one when he thinks Drew won't notice.
Chances are, he probably just can't be bothered to tell Brad off since he's in a rush. To get away. From you-know-who.
Henry and Liam finally arrive at their own lockers.
The cons of having your whole friend group’s lockers conveniently placed next to one another is that, just trying to take your books can get especially awkward lately.
Exchange a “hey.”, shuffle in awfully tense silence and once their locker door clinks shut they're on their merry way.
Drew is already out of their field of vision by the time Jake is there, configuring his lock combination.
Liam wonders if Drew’s ever considered paying the school to switch lockers. Henry wonders why Liam’s eyes are stuck to Jake like glue (and where’s Lia?).
The hallway empties.
~~~~
The mall. It’s bustling with people, mostly Rosemeadow students if not families pushing carts full of groceries.
No one says it, but they’re all silently wishing that they won’t run into anyone they know in particular.
Liam and Henry walk before Drew, chatting away, laughing, and occasionally slowing down next to potential wallet-draining shops before shaking their heads and walking again.
Drew is on his phone, of course, scrolling away as one ridiculous audio after another blasts in his ears. He’s practically using the two in front as walking shields from violently clashing into anyone.
Henry gasps, slowing down. “Holy smokes, is that–” “–Pretty Princess Petra: World is Magicure?” Liam finishes Henry’s sentence with an equally excited grin.
Before he knows it, he’s dragged away by the arm into R&J’s and reaches at Drew for help to no avail. The guy doesn’t even bat an eye at him. Traitor.
As the two rummage about inside, Drew leans against the glass wall separating them, still on his phone.
He keeps scrolling for five more videos until he’s frustrated with all the unsatisfactory content that curse his eyes, slides the app close, opens another and puts on a playlist at random.
The first three notes give it away immediately.
He doesn’t switch it to another, sticking his phone in his pocket and letting the tune wash away all the cringeworthy audios that previously assaulted his ears.
It’s alright. The song’s dance-inducing j-pop beat isn’t one he’d willingly choose to add alone, but it’s alright. Maybe a little bit more than alright.
Okay, it’s pretty good. …Like he’ll ever admit that out loud.
The song ends on an anticlimactic note. After it, plays that overdone 2010s pop bass intro followed by too-recognisable lyrics.
Drew mutes his earpods without a second thought. He exhales a long breath he didn't even know he was holding.
Right on time, rapid steps come from Drew's left— the entrance —and before him stood Henry, who's flaunting his new Pretty Princess, something something shirt, as he holds a bag in one hand that has his old stained shirt’s sleeve sticking out.
Drew eyes him for a moment then looks to his left to see Liam walking out dejectedly.
“I paid,” Liam answers without Drew even needing to ask. “Twenty five freaking dollars…” He mumbles to himself.
“Whatever it takes for my sweet Petra,” Henry coos as he looks down at his own shirt, hem pulled forward in his balled fists.
Liam scoffs. “Oh yea? Then pay up,” He holds out his palm right up in Henry’s face, repeatedly pulling his fingers. “Come on, twenty five.”
Henry sticks his tongue out and blows raspberries.
“Ewww, Henry!” Liam wipes his hand on Henry’s shirt. His new, freshly bought, Pretty Princess Petra: World of Magicure shirt.
The face Henry makes is so comical Drew could almost laugh. Emphasis on almost.
“You…” Henry starts.
Liam makes a break for it in the direction of the bathroom without a word. Henry catches up right after at speeds he’s never managed.
They go out of sight into the exit leading to said bathroom. What sounds like stumbling and rustling turns awfully quiet before laughter erupts and yeah, why even worry?
They come back partially soaked in water, giggling and playfully elbowing each other.
It prompts an unimpressed exhale out of Drew. They continue walking.
An unremarkable gadget store. Pass.
The fourth clothing store today. Pass.
Liam and Henry are shivering and latch on tight to one another once the cold mall a/c gets to them.
A warm, cozy, welcoming family restaurant. Pleading eyes are thrown in Drew’s periphery. Hard pass.
They stop and make a sharp turn when they hear live piano playing in the next store. By the time they're too far away to hear any form of melody, there's a faint applause.
Another gadget store. Pass.
The grocery store. Drew doesn't argue this time, letting Liam and Henry take the lead.
As per usual, Liam takes a shopping cart, Henry hops in, and they do anything but buy groceries.
Drew’s leaning against the aisle by the very entrance, every now and then sparing a glance at the two, while his hand constantly itches for the familiar hold of his phone.
He puts his earpods away.
~~~~
Drew finds himself inside a vintage-looking store. No one else with him to ask him to get this, pay for that. No one who’d go “Drew, look at this,” before making some dumb joke.
Okay no, they're just outside. Loitering around the bridge, pointing fingers at strangers and laughing. Probably.
He scans the interior. Everything is dimly lit by very orange lightboxes. On unusually tall racks dangled rhinestone necklaces that twinkle just enough to stand out but not blind a person, alongside bracelets, rings, and solo gems in display cases, the likes.
Something piques his interest.
The packaging looks stupid and oddly toothpaste-like. Something straight out of those 80s commercials archived for nostalgic purposes.
He grabs one and flips it.
Multiple warnings read; think carefully before wishing, use at your own risk...
Sounds awfully serious for something that he can barely consider a collectible. It’s not like it's drugs.
Yet he can’t take his eyes off of it.
He decides just one is enough, slams cash on the counter, pockets the box, and leaves (because he obviously doesn't have time to wait for the cashier to hand him the change).
Once he's out, he lazily greets two bored looking guys with the idea of a wave.
Henry returns the wave, low, and Liam’s leaning against the glass fence with a curious look on his face.
“Nothing but junk in there. I don't know why I even went in.”
Henry scoffs. “You said the same thing two stores ago.”
Drew doesn't deny it, walking straight past them like he has a curfew to abide by (which he does not have and never will). He doesn't even reach for his pockets.
Henry and Liam exchange a confused glance, but they follow Drew anyway.
~~~~
“So,” Liam decides it's a good time to speak up. He gets a glare from Henry that suggests—no, screams it’s a bad idea.
He continues, “What are we gonna do about the group project in Mrs. Jones’ class?” Henry’s glaring even harder, mouthing what the hell, dude?
Drew picks up his pace pretending that he doesn't hear Liam’s question.
“It’s due this Thursday and we haven't talked about it since last week.”
Drew doesn't slow down. Liam doesn't let up.
“I know you're serious about school.”
Drew makes a sudden turn for the exit door. Liam matches his pace without fail.
By this point Henry’s multiple steps behind, looking everywhere but them like they're strangers and Liam? Who’s that?
Chatter in the sterile halls quiet down as the two storm through, Drew nearly shoulder-checking everyone in his path.
He makes another turn, into the men’s bathroom.
Liam breathes in, “We have to talk to him eventually—”
Slam.
The stall door stands between Liam and a definitely-pissed Drew. He doesn't knock or tell him to get out.
He paces back and forth until familiar sneakers come into his view. When he lifts his head, Henry’s looking away from him, facepalming.
Liam’s not sure why he even bothered trying.
~~~~
Some dingy bathroom stall becomes Drew’s temporary retreat. Why does everyone think they have the right to be on his case?
…It’s on him for believing Liam would be any different.
He makes himself comfortable on the toilet seat cover and procures his newest impulse buy, taking a moment to get another good look at it.
One Wish Willow.
Stupid little party gimmick with a stupid name. Why did he think this was worth the seven bucks again?
On it reads; Spark the middle and break in half. He gets the gist.
He struggles to get his nails between the edges for a hot minute before giving up and ripping a hole on the wrong side.
He pulls it out. A loud, creepy tune assaults his ears and definitely everyone else in the bathroom.
“Drew, what are you doing in there?” It’s Henry. His shoes peek through the gap below the door alongside Liam’s. Drew doesn't answer.
Liam’s soles squeak against the tiles. “Are you seriously ditching us just to scroll on your phone?”
Drew tunes out the white noise, focused solely on the artificial willow in his hands.
There’s a buzz in his pocket despite his phone being on mute. Like that damn playlist was still on.
And it might as well be, with how the same 2010s pop song bass still lingers and loops unwelcomed in his head. The catchy tune is starting to get on his nerves.
He sucks in a deep breath, and closes his eyes, only to see light brown ones, squinted slightly upwards and wrinkled at the edges.
Jake.
The way his jacket shuffled against Drew’s hoodie as their shoulders brushed and Jake was trying to read the post that Drew had been wanting to show Jake since last week but never had the chance to until then.
Jake’s smile.
The next day he didn't show up to third period and left Drew on delivered which he never does.
The morning Jake came up to him, them, looking like— to quote Henry —hell.
How Drew’s stomach flipped upside down when Jake dropped that.
That same night Zoey was weeping on speaker seconds after Drew had brought it up through text in one long message, repeatedly begging and pleading, “Drewy bear, please!” between choked sobs.
Hanging up on that was…hard.
And when it couldn't have possibly gotten any worse that morning, came the cheesiest speech anyone would ever hear in their short lives, on the goddamn school PA system.
No one was surprised by the fight that followed.
That evening when Drew tried to fight the urge to search up ‘Student Band Competition 2020’. He failed.
He saw it. Winning Competitor of Student Band Competition 2020. The face on the thumbnail.
He almost threw his phone to the wall.
Tap.
Jake’s smiling, again, but wider, toothy and despite the shitty camera quality Drew could practically see the dimples forming on his cheeks every time the boy opened his mouth.
The way his chest heaved as the music died down.
His corny jokes when the local journalist had interviewed him and that freak, Hailey, after they’d won. His earnest-to-god cackle followed by shy laughter when a friendly tease was thrown at him.
Jake that whole night.
Jake.
He looks happier.
Drew knows he is.
His grip on the willow tightens. Make some dumb wish, break it into pieces, maybe vandalise the mall’s bathroom stall and litter. Go back outside like nothing ever happened. He’s set.
He mutters under his breath, “I wish Jake fucking Sterling loved me more than anyone in the whole world.”
Snap.
Snap, snap, thud, snap, scrape, scrape, bang, thud, bang.
Drew gets up, litters the torn box scraps, and swings the vandalised door— there's a few new scratches on it —open to two, more than mildly concerned, faces.
“What?” He clicks his tongue.
Henry not so subtly sneaks a peek behind Drew, and his eyes widen at the sight, mouthing a whistle. “I’m surprised you didn't break the toilet seat with all the ruckus you were making.”
“Should I?” Drew half-jokingly asked, slowly turning around.
Liam reaches for his shoulder. He opens his mouth like he has something to say, but he just sighs, shakes his head, and drops his hand.
Drew’s phone pings.
It pings again.
Then it buzzes, loud, Drew’s default-setting ringtone playing for the entire mall to hear.
“Dude,” Henry shoots a glance at Drew’s glowing pocket and up at Drew.
It keeps ringing.
Liam winces, “She’s still bugging you?”
“No,” Drew denies. “She can't. I blocked all her contacts.”
They let it ring for another minute. It stops.
“Must’ve been a scammer,” Henry shrugs, getting a look of disbelief from Liam, who argues, “scammers don't text before calling, idiot,” and promptly receives a hard elbow to his gut.
It starts to ring again.
They meet eyes. Everyone’s got the same expression.
Henry scratches the back of his neck. “Are you sure you’ve blocked ALL her contacts?”
Drew clicks his tongue and hastily takes out his phone, picking up the call without a glance at the displayed name.
Beep.
“What the hell do you want?” He starts, his feet moving like they're ready to pace in place. In less than two seconds he comes to an abrupt stop.
Henry and Liam share a brace for it look.
Beep. The hanging up kind. Huh?
“I'm going home. Now.” Drew says with no explanation, and before they know it he’s sprinting back the way they first came.
They don't go after him.
They just watch, as he fades out of view and blends into the crowd.
“Let's go get overpriced yogurt,” Liam announces, already walking.
Henry trudges after him, groaning.
Then, a metaphorical light bulb appears over his head, and he’s running past Liam as he shouts, “Last one there has to pay!”
It gets a laugh out of Liam, who catches up to Henry in a blink. “Oh, you’ll regret that.”