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"... So you should be good if you can fill in the assignment before Monday, yeah?"

What now..? I nodded, only half-listening to Ms. Hartley who was scribbling some more notes on the assignment I had apparently missed. Maybe because I've only been a student here for like a week. But it was whatever, because my mind was way more occupied with Nyx. Standing by their locker on the other end of the corridor, head down and hands curled around a bunch of textbooks, I just knew something was off. And I hated it, because what the fuck do you do when something is wrong with a friend who barely talks? Oh and, the fact that I was being held hostage by a way too chirpy teacher didn't exactly help, either.

"Robbie, are you listening?" Ms. Hartley asked— well, probably repeated, raising a brow with her arms crossed over her chest. She kinda reminded me of a Zara model in a Valentine's special, with her red pants, white blouse, and matching red nails that were probably way too long for the dress code. Is that a fly? Ew. Hi fly.

"Huh?" Wow, yeah, no, great answer. Super convincing. "Yeah.. yeah," I quickly muttered to Ms. Hartley, who took that as a sign to continue talking. My eyes met with Jackson's for a moment as he passed me, giving me a confused look. Before I could -hopefully- subtly eye towards Nyx, I heard someone yell "Freak!" followed by the sound of books clattering to the floor. A spark of anger ignited in my chest, burning to the point I felt like punching the fuckers. Fucking assholes.

Jackson's eyes followed mine, widening when he realized what was going on. After giving me a curt nod, he rushed over to the scene and I could hear more yelling before the people finally seemed to leave. A wave of relief crashed into me, which also alerted my brain of the fact this teacher had been blabbering to me for a while now, and I had no fucking clue what it was about. Something with an assignment..Monday. Mhm... Goldfish-? I blinked my eyes back to their full potential, hoping that would make me less confused. But no.

Ms. Hartly laughed at something she said, drawing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Anyways, enough about my goldfish! Assignment on Monday, Blue. Don't you forget!" she chastised with a laugh, pointing a finger at me before walking off towards the teacher's room, probably to get coffee. Mood.

While still trying to figure out how the fuck the conversation topic had gone from an assignment to fucking goldfish, I hastily made my way to Jackson and Nyx. "What happened?" I asked, slightly out of breath from the zero-point-goddamn-zero-one seconds I'd spent running.

Nyx shrugged, their back turned to us as they sorted out their books. "Soccer-sluts," they muttered, reminding me of the conversation we'd had two days ago.

I chewed at my lip, wondering what the fuck I could do to be helpful. Or at least a decent friend.

Jackson glanced at me and sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets before shifting his gaze to Nyx. "Sorry 'bout them, dear. A bunch of a-holes, that's what they are."

Nyx hummed lowly, eyes on the ground as they nodded at Jackson. "Yeah.."

Jackson seemed to take that as his cue to leave, steady footsteps echoing through the now empty hall. It still felt weird, the soft pink linoleum floors, the slightly darker pink lockers, and the warm white but oh-so-artificial lighting following you everywhere you went— like the moon. And don't even get me started on the blue corridors, they made me feel like I was inside a smurf. Wait no—

"Fuck—" Nyx suddenly hissed, effectively pulling me out of whatever that thought process was. They sniffed, furiously rubbing their eyes until black eyeliner began to smudge onto their pale skin. Both Mason and Nyx had such pretty skin. Whereas Mason's was mainly fair, almost ivory, Nyx had more of a gray undertone, which probably partly came from the makeup they always wore. Meanwhile I spend my mornings trying to figure out if the random new spot on my cheek is a freckle or a pimple.

"Do you have class right now?" I asked, because of course that was the most important thing my brain demanded to know right now. They should hire me as a therapist, for real.

Nyx shook their head, wiping the final remains of tears out of their eyes. "No class, thank fuck." They let out a watery chuckle, rummaging through their bag before pulling out an eyeliner pencil. "Gotta re-do this shit," they half-joked, pointing the pencil at me.

I've always liked eyeliner, but no way in hell would I trust myself to put that shit on my eyes. It just always looked so good on people. Humming, I bent down slightly to inspect the pencil because fuck— Nyx was really short. Or maybe I'm just tall. Dunno. "Do you think I'd look good with eyeliner?"

Pursing their lips, Nyx glanced up at me through black hair. "Yeah, sure," they eventually said, a small smile playing on their face. "Nothing too bold, though. But it would bring out your eyes."

You know that feeling when the teacher calls you out to compliment your work in front of the class? Hell yeah. I grinned, but my happiness quickly morphed into irritation when I heard the bell scream, its screechy sound scraping against my eardrums. "Well fuck, pretty sure I do have class." It was then that I realized I had no idea which class I had, and I had approximately thirty seconds to figure it out. "Uhm—

"Calc. Room 65b, second staircase to your right," Nyx stated dryly, shoving my arm forward in an attempt to guide me in the right direction. "Get the fuck to class, thank me later."

You see, I would argue, and I did have questions. Many questions. But I also had literally no time and that dude from Calc already didn't seem to appreciate my constant doodling and distracted ass too much. Fucking homophobe, I swear. So, I kept my mouth shut and followed Nyx's instructions as they told me to do.

-

Lately, I've been— I've been thinking... "I want you to be happier.."

"Uh, what now?" Mason stopped in his tracks and stared at me, a grin crawling up his face.

Shit. I said that out loud. We stared at each other in silence a bit longer (way too long) before we both just burst out in ridiculously loud laughter, which gained us a few disapproving rich people glances. Shaking my head in the hopes that the stupid song would just roll out of my ears, I managed to make out, "Sorry, song lyrics," while Mason just continued wheezing.

I hastily wiped my eyes so people wouldn't think we were completely hysterical, although, truly, I had a feeling it was too late for that. Take the girl in her perfectly tailored pastel pink uniform who stuck up her nose at us, or the juniors with tight ponytails laughing and whispering to each other as they not-so-subtly eyed us, or the guy with the Nirvana t-shirt and a skateboard, chuckling as he walked over to us. Wait a seco—

"Hey Robbie. Who's your friend?" Seth asked, shooting some freshman a dashing smile when she— I think— muttered she loved Nirvana. He pulled up his board, balancing it against his hip.

Finally sobering up, I smiled, nudging Mason in his side because the idiot was still laughing. "Hi! This is Ma— will you shut the fuck up?!" I hissed when Mason wouldn't stop mimicking me.

"I want you to be happier," he choked out, dramatically accentuating every fucking word. Finally, he appeared to notice Seth and his poor (and somewhat adorable), confused-as-fuck face. Straightening up, Mason shot Seth an apologetic grin. "Mason," he finished for me —how kind of him— squealing in socially-deprived when Seth offered him a fist bump with a laugh. I want a fist bump too.

"Cool shirt," Seth said, nodding at the random something-tech-related t-shirt Mason was wearing. Then, he turned to me, eyes falling on my jeans. "Paint? Sick," he mumbled, disappearing into his thoughts for a moment before glancing back at me. "Where'd you get those? They're cool as fuck."

I felt heat spread around my face all the way to the tips of my ears, and I prayed to god the luminescent lighting would save me. I need to fidget with something. Chuckling hesitantly, I settled for the off-white tie loosely hanging from my neck, my attempt to at least somewhat resemble the school's uniform. "Oh, uh, I guess I made these myself. Well not really but like— I uhm, I got some paint stains on them and they wouldn't come off in the laundry so I just— tried to make it look like it's supposed to look this way-? Wow that was a weird sentence. But yeah, uhm— yeah." Please kill me now.

"You paint? That's so cool... You'll have to teach me someday, I'm absolute shit at art," Seth admitted with a chuckle, shaking his head when a few strands of hair fell into his eyes.

Mason laughed, tugging at his backpack to keep it from falling off his shoulder. "Well I bet either of us would somehow die if we ever set foot on a skateboard. How do you do that shit!?" he exclaimed, almost toppling backward in the process. Just then, the first bell rang, screaming at us that we only had five minutes left before class. "And that, my friends," Mason began, lazily throwing an arm around my shoulder, which caused him to stand on his tiptoes, so he inevitably gave up and grumbled something along the lines of 'fucking tall bitch,' before continuing, "that is our sign to RUN. We're on the wrong side of the building."

I swear to fuck— "Couldn't you have started with that?!" I yelled out, friendly disappointment searing through my already overheated bloodstream. Can someone turn that airco up? Not even waiting for a reply, one that probably would be about as helpful as you can imagine, I grabbed Mason by the strap of his backpack and shot a wry smile at Seth. "We got a class to catch. I'll uh, see you around-?"

Seth laughed again, nodding at my half-statement half-question. He dropped his board to the floor, setting a foot on it before glancing back at us. "See ya around, Blue!"

While half-tripping over his own feet as I dragged him along, Mason began wiggling his eyebrows at me. "The fuck was that about— since when are you friends with Seth?"

I stared at him dryly, contemplating whether or not I should even answer his question. But I also didn't feel like being poked with a pencil for the entirety of an hour, so answering seemed the least sufferable for my poor teenage brain. "I don't know-? He just... It just kinda— nope, I actually don't know." I mean, skipping the part where I quite literally crashed into him, we really had no reason to be 'friends'.

Were we even friends at all?

Mason scoffed, shaking his head in disapproval. "Are we talking about the same guy here? I'm talking the Seth Erriquez," he pressed, struggling to pronounce his last name. So he's Italian...Huh.

I just shoved Mason into the classroom, which caused him to crash into the teacher, which then resulted in the teacher glaring at us, muttering a slur of curses under her breath. Oops. And in all honesty, I wouldn't know how else to answer Mason. I mean, what did that even mean?
'The Seth Erriquez'. The fuck did the guy do?

-

Being interrogated by your friends certainly isn't something I ever missed out on, because oh my god. Of course, speeding through the gray corridors with your eyes glued to the floor, music blasting through your headphones so you wouldn't hear the shit coming out of other people's mouths, wasn't exactly ideal either. But right now it didn't sound too ba—

"Raise your hand if you knew this giant ass bitch over here is friends with Seth," Mason announced, clambering onto a bean bag and then almost falling into it. A triumphant smile crawled up his face when he managed to balance himself into a semi-decent standing position.

Glancing up from her notebook, Reagan let out a gasp, her eyes flitting to me. "What?" she dragged out, voice filled with incredulity. "Seth? The Seth?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?!" I cried, shooting Nyx a glare when they snorted, unbothered to look up from their phone to join in the conversation. Seriously, this was starting to feel like some sort of cliché bad boy story type of shit.

Mason fell down into the bean bag, reaching his arms out behind him to grab a little bag of chips that had been lying on his desk since the first time I came there. He popped the bag open and shoved a handful of chips —that smelled of fucking vinegar— into his mouth, cheeks quadrupling in size like a squirrel. "I think it's time," he began, brushing his hands off against his jeans, "to drop the lore." Ominous much.

Reagan chuckled at that. "Take a seat," she said with a genuine smile, adjusting one of the butterfly clips in her hair. It reminded me of the sunset from a few days ago; Reagan's hair color would be the perfect base.

With the confusion probably evident on my face, I took a seat on the table where Nyx sat, who muttered a 'good luck,' under their breath. I chuckled at that before turning my attention back to Mason and Reagan. Here we go, I guess.

"So," Mason began once again, running a hand through his slightly gelled-back hair to keep it 'attractively messy', as he liked to call it. It was only after doing so, that Mason glanced at his hand again, then at the bag of chips, face souring when he realized his hand had been covered in grease and he'd probably need to shower tonight. Pft. Pretending no one noticed, he continued. "Seth is uh, hm. He's very uhm— uh.. Actually I have no idea."

Right. I snorted, shooting Mason a sheepish grin when he glared at me, to which he just huffed, glancing at Reagan for help. Reagan shook her head with a smile. "I'm glad you made a friend, Robbie. Don't mind Mason, he's just a bit of a drama queen," she affirmed, taking a sip of ice tea.

"A bit-?" Nyx mused, raising a sarcastic brow, causing one of their silver piercings to shift. Before Mason could lash out at them, they just turned their attention back to their phone, exhaling loudly at a funny video. That's so me.

"Anyway," Mason grumbled, pulling at a loose sticker on one of the tablelegs. "I guess Seth just has a bit of a reputation, and everyone— especially the teachers, just put up with it. Most people are either too scared to approach him, or their ego's too far up to be bothered," he explained, now fidgeting with a rolled-up sticker in his hands.

I hummed, wondering which category I belonged to. I mean, it's not that I was scared to approach him, more like I had no choice, because the universe decided to be a little bitch. "Is it like a bad reputation?"

"Depends who you ask," Mason said, a bored expression on his face. Reagan hummed in agreement, signing something to Mason before she put her headphones up. Wait what? Mason just blinked at me, most likely zoning out for a second before snapping back to reality. He seemed to notice my blatant confusion and let out a chuckle. "Reagan's sister is deaf, so she's fluent in ASL. I just started learning it for fun. It's like a secret language. Except it's not really secret but— you get the point."

"That's fucking cool. You guys are all so cool," I mumbled through a smile, swaying my legs around like a little kid.

Suddenly, Nyx's fingers froze on their phone. Slowly, they lifted their head and glanced up at me, eyes sparkling with pride as they grinned. "You're pretty cool, too."

My heart felt happy.

But after a bit, that happiness began to morph into deathly silence. Awkward silence. Desperate to fill the void, I raked the depths of my mind to try and come up with something worthy of escaping the Asylum of Chaos, better known as my brain. Thankfully (or maybe not), my phone decided to do the job for me, as it let out a horrendously loud beep that startled the shit out of all of us. "Fuck, sorry!" I hastily called out, fumbling to unlock my phone as Nyx shot me a glare. The panic in my chest only grew when I saw it was a reminder that I was supposed to be home on time today to help Aleksia out with groceries.

I had refused at first, but Aleksia insisted I should go with her. She thought it was 'ridiculous' that I'd lived here for over two weeks now and I didn't know where the supermarket was. And even so, going grocery shopping was always a disaster for me, seeing as I got distracted with literally everything. But could you blame me? They always sold so much unnecessary bullshit that always looked way more appealing than the stuff on the grocery list. And I'd always end up hyper-focusing on the people, rather than the food and shit. Anyway, I'd reluctantly agreed and now I had to run. Yay.

This place really needs a big clean-up, I thought as I hopped onto the staircase with a little skip in my step, streaks of sunlight shining down on me as a reminder of the temporary freedom that awaited once I made it out of this place. Well okay, that was a little dramatic, but still. The walls around me seriously lacked about five decades of care, the last layer of paint so pale I wasn't able to tell which color it was supposed to represent. And as someone who works with color like every day, that says something. But on the other hand, the whole abandoned staircase vibe was also kinda cool. It felt like a different dimension within the hallways of this picture-perfect school.

Just as I was about to be engulfed in genuine sunlight —albeit coming through a crystallized pink window somewhere on that infinitely heightened ceiling— something blocked my light. Or better said someone, a darkened silhouette casting a shadow over the staircase. But wait a minute, if everyone's still down there, then who the fuck is— "Jackson-?" Once the sun broke through his shadow, Jackson's pale figure was pretty much unmissable.

Freezing in his scarily fast steps, Jackson's eyes widened when he realized I was here too. "Oh— I uhm," he paused and cleared his throat before continuing, "I didn't think you'd still be at school."

Uhm. I wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean. Did he not want me to know he was here? Leaning against the banister and physically cringing when I felt a layer of dust tingling against my fingertips, I hummed. "I hang out here sometimes," I decided to say because fuck, what else could I do?

Jackson raised his eyebrows with a nod, hands reaching for his pockets per usual. "I see.." he mumbled, giving me a quick once-over. Help-? "Well, I just needed to get some stuff from the supply closet." He pushed himself off the railing, patting my shoulder with a nod when he passed me before strutting down the rest of the steps and disappearing behind the staircase.

Well that was... Interesting. 

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What's Jackson up to🤨

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's almost summer break here weeeee >.< Favorite character this chapter? Mine's gotta be Mason:]

Stay hydrated, leave some comments and a vote, and remember ily<3!