I'm not really in the mood to joke about how quiet the ride back home is. You can add your own funny spin on things, if you like. Would be very disrespectful, but you can.

I don't even register the landscape outside. We can be in a black void as far as I care. The only thing I'm focused on is Hayden's reflection in the passenger's window. Brayden and Okayden serve once again as the meat and veggies of this shit sandwich. Feels like if mommy and daddy are fighting, I guess. I don't remember my mother after all, unlike Hayden.

I can't even compare the two feelings. For me, my mother is a nostalgic smell. A memory of a memory of a feeling deep inside, and even that, I think, is merely my brain playing tricks on me. But Hayden, who was conscious enough to pursue a passion? The memory of his mother must still be raw. I wonder if that's why he drives this truck? Something strong and sturdy that wouldn't kill him if something were to hit him.

Does he feel guilty about his mother's death? How can I call myself his boyfriend if I didn't know something as basic as that? I also didn't know about his living circumstances, or about his father's abuse. If you think about it, I know Hayden, but I don't know much about Hayden. We kinda jumped in this relationship thing feet first.

Not like I've told him much about my past, either. I've actively avoided it. Maybe he thought of that as well. Didn't want to overwhelm me with some perceived baggage. To him, it might be a defense mechanism, but I see it as him not trusting in me, his boyfriend, enough.

Heh, ironic, given that I do the same. Maybe we don't trust each other enough.

Maybe being a couple so fast was a mistake.

Don't get me wrong, I love him to death, past or no past, and I'm fairly certain he does too. But now there's a huge divide between us, and I'm not talking about Brayden and Okayden. Something broke today, and I'm not sure how to repair it.

Being in love is so complicated.

It doesn't take us long—or an eternity, I don't know, I'm not paying attention—for us to reach Brayden's state.

"oh, thank blackpink, i can leave this hot mess," says Brayden, practically jumping over my lap to leave the truck. "i hate when mom and dad fight."

"Brother, may I ask,

If I can crash here tonight,

I... don't wanna be here."

"sure, i'll make it asleep over."

Okayden jumps out of the truck, gives us a salute, and skidaddles with Brayden out of there, leavin us two alone. Even with the wide space between us wide open, I don't feel like scooting close to him.

As the dick-mobile resumes its slow march, I struggle to find words to say. It's obvious we need to talk about what happened, but where to start? A sorry for outing him to his father? An admonition for giving up on his dream? Both? Neither? I feel like walking on eggshells. What now?

Actually, I think that's the best question I can ask.

"What now?" I ask, my breath fogging the passenger window.

I can hear Hayden take a deep breath. I steal a glance towards him. His knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel. "Now? I'll stay low, maybe crash on Brayden's couch for a few days, let father cool off. He'll not remember anything about today in a few days."

"Not about that," I say, although I'm glad he has somewhere to go. "About us. What now?"

"What do you mean, what now? Nothing will change."

"Hayden, everything has changed. There is no club anymore, you're returning to the football club, I outed you to your family, and everything's gone to shit. You can't see me straight in the face and tell me nothing will change."

The car crawls to a stop in the middle of the road. Hayden turns around to face me, and I meet his gaze. There is defiance in his eyes, and sadness, and love, and shame. Every swirled inside his soul. He opens his mouth to talk, to tell me nothing will change, but he knows. And he knows that I know that he knows that it's bullshit. As such, he averts his eyes, starts the truck, and we continue in our way.

"I knew it," I whisper, loud enough for him to hear.

"Babe..." he says, leaving a dramatic pause to monologue internally. "Look, I didn't take you all home to wine and dine you and leave you hanging dry. I wanted you to see it. I wanted you all to see how I live. Where I live. Who I live with. I wanted you to understand that I'm trying to find a way out of an abusive and toxic environment. I tried going the club route, lower my head, get my degree, get a loan and then go to culinary school. That didn't work. I don't have a scholarship anymore. Without a degree, I can't get a student loan."

"I know that, it's just-"

"No, Ayden, you don't know," Hayden interrupts. He doesn't yell, but he's not gentle, either. "It's no longer a choice between Football or club. Now, it's either I play football, or I get kicked out of school and work with my father in a dead-end job in some shady scrapyard and throw even the smallest semblance of a future away. And believe me, as much as I hate football, I hate my father even more. I won't stand a year more under his thumb. I'm sorry to try and get a better future for myself, I really am. But I refuse to be a miserable old drunk like my father."

"And what about us?! What about making a future for us?!" I yell. Fuck it, I'll stare right into his soul. "There are other ways you can stay in school and not play football. You can ask for social assistance, you can ask Brayden for money, you can-"

"Be exactly like my father and live out of other people's handouts. Which I refuse to do. He became complacent. He let my mother do all the work while he fucked around with his buddies, drinking her money away. When she died, he mooched off friends. When that ran dry, he started to scam people with broken car parts. He's never done an honest day of work in his life, and I'll refuse to go down with him. I wanna show him I can be more than he thinks I am. I wanna rise above him. I wanna rub it in his face."

Okay, wow. There's much more there I would like to talk about, but I don't think today would be a good day to do so. Reminder to myself: make sure the school has a counselor I can refer Hayden to. "You don't have to do that alone, you know?"

"I never said that I'll do it alone," says Hayden. The road under us is smooth now. We must be in the city proper. "On the contrary, I reached out to you three to let you know what I was going to do, and that I need support. Okayden and Brayden seem to have understood it, and have agreed to give me their support. But you don't seem to get it."

"Oh, I get it. I just don't condone you succumbing to your bad boy tendencies and toss away your dream like that. You're so talented..."

"It's a stupid dream," he sentences, so nonchalantly that I do a double take. "I tried to escape my bad boy instincts over and over again, and I'm always pulled back in. And you know what? I'm tired. I'm tired of trying to fight back. I'm already dying inside every day I stay with my dad. If playing is the only way out, then, I'll play."

"But what if something happens? What if you get hit during a game and get a concussion? Or get paralyzed! You know how dangerous it is for a bad boy football player. It's almost guaranteed you will get some kind of injury."

To that, Hayden gives me a bitter smile. "Either way, it will be a lifetime of suffering. All I ask of you, my boyfriend, is to be with me and support me."

"I can't! I won't! You're a talented, wonderful chef. I refuse to let you toss everything away!"

"Babe, please, I-"

"No! I refuse!" I yell. "I can't believe your audacity... to throw everything we have worked for away. We are so close, Hayden. I believe in you. We believe in you. Even your mother believed in you. Will you make her death be in vain?!"

Okay, I regret ever saying that the second it leaves my mouth. I even cover it in shame. How dare I use her dead mother for leverage? Hayden looks pale, his eyes wide open in surprise. I wouldn't blame him if he would punch me right here and now.

Instead, the truck grinds to a halt. I take a peek outside, and we are in front of my house.

"Babe, I-"

"We're here," he interrupts, leaning over me to open the passenger's seat. "Out."

"Hayden, look at me, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I said!... please, get out."

I do as I'm told, almost crawling backwards in penance. "My love, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. Please, I'm sorry." Tears roll down my cheeks. Or is it raining? It feels like rain. Maybe it's just raining in my heart. I've done a terrible thing.

Hayden adverts his gaze, looking forward while gripping his steering wheel. "Maybe we should take a break for a few days, or weeks."

I would prefer to dip my testicles in a nest of fire ants than to have a break from Hayden. But what can I say to make him change his mind? I already fucked up by opening my mouth. I think the best thing I can do is go with it.

"...Okay, baby. If you need that. I'll be here, waiting for you. I love you."

Hayden doesn't say anything, but closes the door behind him.

Then, that's that. We are on a break. Great. We all know what that means deep inside.

It means I got dumped.

Suddenly, the car door opens again. I think for a second Hayden is going to change his mind, but nope. He hands me the bottle of weird purple liquid I won from Jayden, closes the door, and drives away.

Yep, I basically got dumped. And it's all my fault. I should've kept my mouth shut.

The rain turns into a downpour, as if the sky itself is weeping for me. Or for Hayden. Whatever.

I grab the doorknob to go into my home, but I don't want to. I don't wanna feel safe and be alone with my thoughts. I wanna scream, yell, and be miserable. It's such a nice, rainy night, perfect for commiseration. I'll take a walk instead.

And so I do. I walk aimlessly, feeling the rain hit my face like gentle waves. You know, I love Hayden. I really do. He's kind, understanding, strong, driven, and protective. He's all you can want in a man, and more, because he can cook. Finding a man that can cook is hard.

I'm really lucky to have met him. And yet, knowing what would've happened, all the heartbreak, loss of future and dreams, I think that, looking back, I would've said no to forming a club.

Think about it. Everything that has been happening up until now has been my fault. If I had accepted Lee's offer to join the council, Brayden, Hayden and Okayden would've made their three-member club without issue. If I wasn't so jealous of Aiden, I wouldn't have had my ass expelled, and the club closed down. If I hadn't been expelled, Brayden wouldn't have burnt down the other school, thus putting us in such budgetary restraint. If I wasn't around, I wouldn't have given Hayden hopes of a better future. It's no longer a matter of maybes. It's a fact.

As I reach the Founder's park, with the oxidized statue of Athanasius Finch looking over me, I reach a realization. A realization so dark, and so poignant, that I have to say it out loud.

"Everything would've been better if I wasn't around."

The rain now falls faster, harder, and stronger than before. I can barely see past the statue. What a good crying rain.

And yet, a sound penetrates the wall of rain. So clear that I spin around to see the one who made it, for the sound is a voice. A dulcet, silky voice, from the mouth of a viper.

"Finally, you realized the truth."

There, standing in the whipping rain, is none other than Lee Vazquez herself, clear as day, even when the statue disappears from the volume of the rain.

"What?!" I yell, partly from surprise, partly to speak over the crashing rain.

Her voice dances between the raindrops and reaches me clearly and concisely. "You have realized the truth, that everything would've been better without you."

What was she doing here? Why is her voice so clear? And where did this rain come from? Many questions, and no answers. Only Lee.

"Well, good insight there!" I yell. "But it's too late for that! If it's pity you're giving me..."

Suddenly, the rain pools under my feet, as if I'm being dragged into a quagmire.

"Oh, I'm not giving you pity," she says.

And the rain stops, as sudden as it had come. The rainy night sky turns into a clear day with two suns, and everything around me disappears. The only thing I can see for miles is an infinite, glass-like lake, and a pompous throne, one I have seen before many times.

But, how? And why? Why am I here? I turn around again to see Lee Vazquez sitting on the throne, her hand outstretched.

"I'm giving you an opportunity."

Her skin unravels to reveal a shining figure with pink hair and a smug look on her face. Wait... that's Farfallah. What's happening?