Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Andrew Cappy to the administrator’s office please and thank you.” A nasal voice said over the intercom at a fine eight in the morning across the private school campus. Usually, somebody getting called to the administrator’s office is no trouble, but when it comes to Cappy, everybody knows it is going to be nothing but trouble and mischief from there.

Min Kyst, the token weird kid that enjoys mathematics because "it just comes so easy to him", rubbed his wrist and fiddled with the buttons on his long sleeve. He was sitting with Andrew and some of their other friends in the student center before class. He asked, “Andy, what did you do this time?” He looked at his best friend, who was currently counting the money in his wallet, a nervous tic that Andrew picked up after he began his numerous “businesses” at the private school.

Andrew sighed, “Oh hell if I know. My parents will just send more money or something if it’s really serious. Which I doubt it is.”

Richard Lincoln, another friend in the group of private school boys, first to grow a mustache and last to realize it looked stupid, asked, “Do you think it’s about the numerous classes you’ve skipped or the gambling ring in the lower classrooms?”

Hans, the friend in the group most likely to shoot himself or the rest of the school, bitterly snapped, “Or maybe throwing a big party in your dorm room and not even inviting me but inviting that freak of nature from your Economics class with the disgusting pronoun pin on his bag.”

“Enough! I’m off!” Andrew stood up and grabbed his bag. “Ta-ta! I will see you in our first period!” He quickly fixed his tie and raced to get to the administrator's office across the campus.

The administrator's office was behind a big scary red door, and unlike other principal offices, there were no windows or happy smiling faces inside. For most, this was a hell to cross, and it meant certain death, but for Cappy, it was practically a part of his daily routine. He went inside and walked right past the front desk where the half-awake secretary sat. Andrew went past them to the even scarier door. A large double door painted black like death. He pushed the doors open and grinned.

“Administrator Grej!” Andrew greeted, “Good morning! Is that new flannel?”

Mr. Grej wasted no time. He was a cold and stern man, and students theorized the only thing that made him smile was the pain and suffering of the poor students that ended up in his office. But dealing with Andrew was no joy. It was a special hell for the administrator, and he hoped that today might be the last day he would ever have to deal with it.

“Mr. Cappy.” Mr. Grej said, “I am not happy. I have received several reports from good-hearted students letting me know that you have started a gambling ring amongst the students. Occurring approximately every Saturday night from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m.”

Andrew gasped dramatically, “What? Me? Administrator, no!”

“Administrator, yes. And along with this gambling ring we have photo evidence of you having multiple unlicensed businesses on the campus. Selling all sorts of commodities from bracelets to booze to study sheets to cheat sheets.” Mr. Grej pulled out a yellow file filled with photos and little evidence baggies of bracelets and cheat sheets. There were even receipts included. Andrew mentally cursed himself for being meticulous and insisting on making receipts. 

“Well… I like your labeling. Tidy, did you do those yourself?”
“Shut up, Mr. Cappy. These are clearly your doing and there is photo evidence of the items being sold.”

“I do see that, yes… It was for one of my classes-”

“I have interviewed every one of your teachers,” Mr. Grej snapped, “They have already confirmed that they were all unaware of this and had no idea. Try again.”

Andrew leaned back in his seat and tapped his foot. He sighed. “Alright… What is the punishment then?”

“Suspension right now.” Mr. Grej said.

“Oh thank god.”

“But there is another thing, one thing I’m not sure about.”

“I take back my previous statement.”

Mr. Grej glanced at the door and then at the window between his office and the secretary's desk. He slowly closed the curtains and asked quietly, “Mr. Cappy, have you been sleeping with the other students?”

Andrew smiled nervously.

Mr. Grej sneered, “ Have you ?”

“Well, you know how teenagers can be!” Andrew laughed it off, “You were a teenager once, right?”

Mr. Grej narrowed his eyes and growled out through bared teeth. “This is an all-boys school, Cappy!”

Andrew crossed his arms and huffed, “Okay. What does that have to do with it?”

“Mr. Cappy! You have unlicensed businesses, illegal gambling rings, sexual conduct on school grounds, and numerous other misdemeanors over the past year! Let me remind you that you are not even paying to be here, you are here because of a raffle !” He slammed his fist down on the desk, causing Andrew to flinch and sit up straight. “I have every right to have you expelled and blacklisted from every other private school in this damn state! Hell, the entire country if necessary! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?!”

It took Cappy a few seconds to regain his composure. He blinked, sat up, and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Administrator.”

And for just a moment, it seemed to Mr. Grej that he had finally gotten through to Andrew and that maybe things were going to change from here on out. Maybe Cappy would end this childish nonsense and simply focus on his work, moving on to be an outstanding student and graduate with honors. Another prime example of the work the private school can accomplish with even the rowdiest of boys.

But good things never last, as proven time and time again.

Andrew leaned forward, slowly loosening his tie. “There must be some way that I can… apologize for my naughty behavior, sir? My parents will be dearly upset if I flunk out of this.” He began unbuttoning his shirt next. “I’ll do anything, Mr. Grej…”

“Kicked out of private school!” Andrew’s mother screamed, “I cannot believe you, Andrew! Do you know how hard it was to get you into that place?! Do you know how much we sacrifice for you?! The bus fares, the moving expenses, just to get you out of the shit hole we used to live in! And now we are living in some expensive shit hole and for what?! So you could- could- could act like some MAN-WHORE?!”

Andrew barely listened. He was on his phone, texting his friends back at private school.

Min: Is it true? Are you kicked out?

Hans: Did you die in there nobody has heard from you we are all theorizing your death i can make your coffin right now if you need me to just let me know or dont if youre dead then i will make it anyways

Richard: Andy, please answer. Did you really get kicked out?

“You’ve made your mother cry, Andrew!” Andrew’s father shouted in the car. “Look at her! There is no way we’re going to get you enrolled in another private school! So now we’re going to have to send you to the public school nearby since that’s all we can fucking afford!”

Andrew Cappy, since the very beginning, had lied to everybody at the school about how he got in. Talked about how his family-owned acres upon acres of property and a gigantic mansion, talked about how the school practically begged his parents to send Andrew to the school at all, talked about how every weekend he went on exotic trips and spent loads of money and got all the finest things in the world. There was no way he was going to tell the truth- that he had only got in through some shitty raffle- and still make it through private school alive and with friends and good memories. It was impossible. So he had lied. He lied and now it was close to unraveling.

But not too close.

Andrew: Boys boys boys! U worry too much! I’ll be fine. My parents said they want to send me to public school, give me a taste of the “common life” to calm me down. Jokes on them, I’m going to thrive with those weasels. Give me a month and I’ll be king of the place like I was here.

Hans: King is a weird word for slut

Andrew: Shut up Hans shouldnt u be tweeting racial slurs or smth? Omg cringe 

“Get inside and go up to your room! Now!” His mother screamed, “No dinner tonight! You must be full anyway from how many dICKS YOU WERE SUCKING!” Andrew went up to his room and shut and locked the door while his parents stayed downstairs to cry and whine about where they went wrong in raising their son. Andrew didn’t quite care.

Andrew: they are soooooooooooooooooo angry rn about me getting kicked out

Richard: Are you okay? 

Andrew: obviously?”

Andrew quickly moved from the group chat to the private chat between him and Richard. Richard was already a step ahead and typing.

Richy<3: Are you really okay? How are we going to hang out if you aren’t even on campus anymore…

Andrew: You worry too much, Richy. I’ll still be available on weekends! Unless my parents ground me or smth. Its def possible

Richy<3: Please promise me we’ll still talk. I’ll miss you too much, Andrew.

For a moment, Andrew felt his heart flutter at the endearment. He sighed and lied back on his bed, closing his eyes and imagining a life where he and Richard were grown, not having to worry about the bullshit of private schools and parents and Mr. Grej. After the moment of peace, Andrew opened his eyes and replied.

Andrew: We’ll always be close. That will never change, Richard. I promise. I’m gonna take a nap, try to ignore my parents SCREAMING downstairs lol Night night 

Richy<3: Never. Night night

Andrew pulled one of his old pillows close to his chest, cuddling it tightly as a placeholder for Richard. “I wonder what public school is like…” he mumbled to himself. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Chapter Text

Min sighed, “I don’t think school is going to be the same without Andrew and his constant schemes. I mean, the campus is already too quiet for comfort, y’know?” The new group of three walked to their first class together after arguing for several minutes about who was going to walk in the middle of the new group of three. Usually, Richard and Andrew walked in the middle, with Hans and Min switching on the outside. But with their leader suddenly gone, they began arguing on who should replace Andrew in the direct middle of the three. They finally decided on switching every day, and after an intense rock paper scissors battle, Hans was now walking proudly in the middle. ‘

“I’m sure we’ll manage.” He said quietly.

Richard reminded them, “Andrew can still hang out on weekends, remember that. It’ll be just like it always is. He just isn’t in class with us anymore. No harm, no foul.” Though he felt more like he was convincing himself than his friends. He glanced at the lockers they passed, immediately spotting #420, Andrew’s old locker. Andrew had been so excited to receive the “privilege” of locker #420. Richard forced himself to look away.

“I hope he’s managing,” Min said, “I mean, I’ve heard middle-class kids are like some other species.”

Hans muttered, “Ice trays, Samsung phones… It’s revolting.”

“I wonder what he’s doing.”

Andrew woke up early to style his auburn hair and pick out a good outfit for school. He had been used to wearing his uniform for private school and not having to worry about wearing specific brands or anything. But now that he was going to public school, he could wear whatever he wanted. But he didn’t own a lot of known brands. Anything expensive was something he had gotten as a gift from friends or had miraculously found while thrifting through goodwills and other second-hand stores. So Andrew did what he could to put together some nice clothes that still looked casual enough to fit into a middle-class public high school. He felt like a spy, trying to sneak into some big bad agency that was way out of his league. 

After that, Andrew quickly went downstairs with his backpack, ignored his parents, and went straight out the front door to the bus stop. There were other teens also walking around, thank God, so Andrew didn’t have to awkwardly ask around to find out where the bus stop was.

Okay, it’s just a bus ride. Don’t. Panic. It’s a normal bus ride. If anybody asks, your car is in the shop! Andrew continued walking to the bus. He had his eyes trained on a teen about a block ahead. Curly brown hair, caramel-like skin. They were wearing a dark green hoodie, some ripped jeans, boots, punk-related accessories, and…

Cat ears? Jesus, they’re more embarrassing than I thought.  

Andrew followed the teen down the block to a couple of benches and a yellow sign with a picture of a bus. He awkwardly sat on the bench and waited. The teen he had been following went to a few other teens similarly and sat with them, talking and laughing. 

Andrew got his phone out and opened up Snapchat.

Andrew:   There’s a teen with cat ears, another with a bunch of piercings, and a third that looks like he’s a school shooter. This. Is. Awful.

Richy<3: In class will text later. Sorry you’re at public school

He frowned and put his phone away.

“Are you new?”

Andrew perked up and looked to his right. A blonde-haired blue-eyed teen in a dark blue sweatshirt stared down at him with narrowed, judging eyes. Andrew sat up a bit.

“Yeah,” He said, “What about it?”

The stranger looked him up and down. He shrugged a bit and said, “I just didn’t recognize you, that’s all. Where did you come from?”

Probably better not to lie.

“I used to go to the private school.” Andrew explained, crossing his arms, “But my parents made me leave. They just weren’t offering me what I wanted, so they decided public school was worth a shot. I’m Andrew by the way, Andrew Cappy.”

The soon-to-be not-stranger paused for a moment before shaking Andrew’s hand. “James. James Reichmanger.”

“What kind of a last name is that?” Andrew snorted and scooted over so James could sit, but he didn’t. 

“It’s German. Your last name is Cappy. What are you, an Indiana Jones wannabe?”

“Please, I already have all the fame and fortune. I’m better than Indiana Jones.” Andrew said. He stared up at James, who was still glaring down and judging. Andrew tilted his sunglasses down and batted his eyelashes. James sighed and sat down finally.

“Great,” He snapped, “Another faggot. ” Andrew wasn’t taken back. Slurs weren’t new to him considering he had sucked every dick he could get his hands on at the private school.

“It’s not faggotry if you get paid. Then it’s just business.”

James laughed at that, and the unfamiliar sound attracted the attention of the previous teen from before. The green hooded teen turned around and shouted in a nasally, hissy voice, “Hey, Fascist, I know you’re not saying any fucking slurs over there or I’m cutting off your dick and shoving it up your fucking ass!”

Andrew was taken back by the public display of absolute childishness. James mumbled a few slurs to Andrew under his breath before standing up from the bench. “I’d love to see you try, Anne. You and your little force of faggotry don’t even have the attention span to focus on me long enough.”

Anne huffed, “I’m going by Andy today, not that you give a fuck, you nazi!” Andrew didn’t understand what that meant, not going by Anne "today". He was sure he would find out soon with the help of some extra context clues.

“I prefer white identitarian, not that you give a fuck, you-” A string of slurs left James’s mouth, and Andrew made a mental note to google a few that he had never heard of. Andy gasped loudly, face going as red as a tomato (or at least what Andrew could see since they were wearing a bandana around the bottom half of their face).

The bus pulled up thankfully, and the conversation ended there. Andy retreated to their little group of friends, and James ditched Andrew and got onto the bus. Andrew quickly followed along. He had hoped to snag a seat next to him, but James quickly put his backpack next to him to make it clear he wanted to sit along. Thankfully there was a seat right in front of him that was empty. Andrew quickly sat down and mimicked what James did with his bag.

Once the bus left the stop, Andrew moved his bag back to the ground and got his phone back out. He still didn’t have any texts from his friends, and boy did that worry him to no end.

“Hey!” A little voice said. Andrew looked up, further up, and then to the seat in front of him. In front of him was a curly-haired ginger boy with freckles. He was wearing a yellow hoodie and several beaded bracelets with dolphin and bug charms on them. Andrew mentally cursed himself for not putting headphones in sooner.

“I’m Angel! You look n-n-n-new!” He greeted, “Are you new? Tell me!”

Andrew felt like he was talking to a toddler. He said, “I’m Andrew. Andrew Cappy.”

“Woah! Two Andys! We h-have another Andy, qui is sitting over there, and now we have you! Andy the second! Or I guess you can be just A-A-Andrew or Andrew Cappy, d-d-do you p-p-prefer your full name or just the-th-the first name? Or a n-nickname? Or a middle name? Some people are weird and g-g-go by their m-middle name-”

Angel continued to ramble on and Andrew began thinking about something else to pass the time.

Qui… That must be one of those weird “neo-pronouns”. I think one of the kids at the private school went by something like that. But I think they went by we/us pronouns as if they were multiple people or a hive mind. What was their name?

Andrew pulled their phone out to ask the old group chat what the student’s name was when Angel suddenly asked, “So what b-b-brings you here?” Finally, a question about me. Andrew thought in relief.

“Well,” Andrew began spinning his tall tale, “I originally went to the private school across town. But they didn’t have enough to offer me, so my parents decided to try sending me to public school so I could give it a go.”

“Woah… y-y-y-you’re rich then! Wow! A-Amazing! I wish I was r-rich but- b-b-but my family is pretty p-p-poor compared to other families because our i-income is bad a-a-and-”

“I know, I am pretty cool, huh?”

“Wiseguy.” James interrupted, “If you’re so rich why are you taking the bus? Huh?”

Andrew glanced back at James and noticed that several students were listening in now on Andrew’s story. He immediately said, “Well, my car is in the shop. I’m getting brand new tires put on as well as a new paint job! All the works. Do you have a car, James?”

“Yes,” James replied flatly. After a moment, Andrew gestured for him to elaborate. James sighed and said, “My brother is using it today. I refuse to be in the same vehicle as him. He plays degenerate hip hop music.”

“Oh, how adorable. You’re awfully sensitive for a neo-nazi, huh?”

“I am not one of those weak little neo-nazi scum bags. If you’re going to call me a fascist, call me one correctly.” James sat up in his seat and readjusted the book in his hand. “Just nazi, white identitarian, or fascist is fine. Or if you want to be like the queer quad, call me a fashie for short.”

Andrew teased, “I’ll keep it in mind.” He turned back around and looked at his phone again. Angel did the same, returning to the sticker book he was looking through.

Still no new messages. Andrew slouched in his seat with disappointment. He hadn’t realized how unavailable his friends were when they were in classes.

The bus stopped again and Andrew heard several different kids go quiet. He glanced up from his phone, slowly peeking over the top of the bus seat to what student could make a bus go silent.

The teen- no- the man had to be 6’8” at the least. He towered on the bus compared to all the other teens. Andrew took note of every detail he could. The man was wearing an old brown trench coat with a turtleneck and cargo pants underneath. Along with that, he had on bulky work boots, fingerless gloves, and an ushanka on his head. There were a few locks of messy dirty-blonde hair poking out where they could manage, and all the man’s face showed was a serious, piercing stare and scowl. 

He walked past every seat, eyes straight ahead, and sat down with a huff in the very back of the bus. Andrew swore his heart was beating right out of his chest. Suddenly it felt more like a prison bus than a school bus. He quickly leaned forward to the seat in front of him and gently tapped Angel on the arm.

“Who the hell is that man and why is he on a school bus?” He whispered hurriedly.

“Him? Oh, that’s just Karl. He’s n-n-new this y-year. Q-q-q-quiet type.” Angel explained, “Last name is Ommie. Russian family!”

Andrew nodded and sat back in his seat. He made a mental note to look up any information on the Ommie family later. He didn’t know there were any Russian folks in town at all. Did the city have a Russian population? He would have to find out and then report back to himself. Or report back to my friends! Andrew thought excitedly. He got his phone out and got on the group chat.

Andrew:   So I’ve met James who’s a literal nazi, Andy or Anne or whatever who’s one of those SJW cat ear weirdos, Angel who is the freakiest little parasite of a teen ive ever met, and now there’s this Karl kid who looks like he takes steroids and is apparently Russian. Last name is Ommie? What a crew and I’m not even at the damn school. Also whats the name of that kid that goes by they/them/we/us? It slipped my mind. Lemme know! How’s school without little ol me?

No reply. His friends were still in class and couldn’t check their phones. He rolled his eyes and tucked his phone away. Hopefully, they would check back in later, at least by lunchtime.

The bus carried on to the school.

Chapter Text

The bus made a few more stops after that, but only one was notable. It was just a block after Karl Ommie’s and featured a similar yet absolutely different student.

“Guten tag!” The student greeted the driver before quickly scrambling to the seat Angel sat in. The student looked a little similar to Karl in the back of the bus, except he was much more eccentric and put together than Karl. Immediately the Karl clone and Angel began rambling and talking to each other back and forth.

Andrew resisted the urge to interrupt and introduce himself.

I don’t need these weirdos. I have friends already. Richard, Min, Hans. He checked his phone again and frowned. And if I really have to make new friends, it won’t be those freaks.

“Hyello, new boy!” 

Or not. Andrew set his phone aside and looked up at the stranger, looking eagerly over the top of the seat. Angel mimicked the amused face and also looked over the seat.

“Th-th-this is Karl’s cousin.” Angel introduced. “Another O-Ommie! His name is-“

The bus driver suddenly slammed his hand on the horn and swerved to avoid a squirrel in the road. All of the poor students whined and complained, grabbing the seat or their bags. 

Angel shook his head, wincing since his head hit the window. “B-b-but we call him Nazbol!” He smiled again.

“It is wonderful to meet you!” Nazbol greeted. His voice was a thick Russian accent, but somehow had German characteristics like random ups and downs in cadence and a V sound where the W should be. Andrew was sure that public school kids couldn’t be any weirder than Angel, and yet here was this abomination in front of him.

Andrew cleared his throat and politely said, “Good to meet you. Andrew J. Cappy.”

The ride continued, Andrew now seemingly alone since Angel and “Nazbol” were engaged in an eager talk about bugs and other weird, abnormal topics. Andrew slouched further in his seat as the drive to school carried on. Checked his phone for the millionth time, stared out the window, glanced at the back of Nazbol’s head. He had curly dark brown hair poking out from under the ushanka he wore. 

It almost looks like Richy’s… I hope he texts back soon…

The bus finally arrived at the school, and all of the students quickly shoved and scrambled their way out of the bus and onto the school grounds. It was an indoor campus high school, unlike the private school where you had to go outside to go to different classrooms and buildings. Andrew followed the rest of the crowd inside, looking around at the different display cases of sports trophies and photos of previous graduating classes. Everything felt weirdly foreign. He glanced around nervously before following some signs to the main office.

The main office was boring, encouraging like all school offices are. Andrew stepped inside and went up to the counter. 

Andrew greeted the secretary behind the counter, “Hi, Andrew J. Cappy, I need a school schedule. And my locker number.” The secretary glanced at him and then back at the computer. She typed some stuff out, loud red nails against loud computer keys.

“Name?”

“Andrew J. Cappy,” Andrew repeated, irritated. The secretary typed more information in.

She worked silently, besides the insufferable noise of the keyboard and her nails tapping the countertop. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, she printed out a copy of Andrew’s schedule and slid it across the table.

“There’s your schedule for the day. Locker number and code are written at the top.” After that, she returned to her business, whatever that may be. Andrew took a mental note to avoid the office at all times unless he wanted a reminder of why having money and a career plan was important. He sighed, muttered a thank you, and made his way out of the office and into the hall.

It’s almost like a highway, right? Walk on the right side, keep your speed, don’t get lost. Keep your cool. Andrew looked at the schedule. While looking down, a few kids shoved past him. Andrew stumbled and stayed against the wall, resuming his quick glancing of the schedule.

Homeroom

Current Events

English III

College Algebra

Space Science

Lunch

Study Hall

French I

P.E.

Andrew was far from excited to have P.E. as his last class of the day. That meant nothing but sweat for the rest of the day. Hopefully, they had good showers in the locker room, unlike the private school. 

Locker #223, Code: 46-12-09

Locker #223 wasn’t nearly as funny as locker #420 back at the private school. He sighed and looked around, trying to get an idea of where that locker number would even be. It was then that Andrew realized he was nearly alone in the main entrance of the high school.

“Shit.” Andrew cursed quietly and tried the nearest hallway to him. He started looking at locker numbers, but these appeared to be starting at 01. He kept following the line of lockers, annoyed at the lack of a map he was given. How is anybody supposed to find their way around this school? Andrew looked down at his schedule again. If he didn’t hurry he was going to miss his homeroom!

Maybe skip the locker and go to the homeroom to make sure I’m there on time? No, then I’m going to look like an idiot. Who carries their backpack to class? Losers that want to end their social life. Why the hell is the locker organization so confusing, I was just in the 10s and now I’m in the 300’s? What the fuck?

Andrew stopped at the sound of the bell going off above him. The hallway was empty, and Andrew was standing in the middle. Late. On the first day.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Great.” He mumbled to himself. “Just great.”

“Do you need any help there, hot stuff?”

Andrew quickly turned around and held his schedule to his chest defensively. A boy his age stood just a little bit away. He was wearing a magenta-colored button-up, slightly unbuttoned and loose on his collar bones. Andrew noticed that he looked vaguely familiar in his stance and gaze.

“… James?” Andrew mumbled.

The boy laughed, and it sounded more feminine than Andrew expected.

“O-M-G, no! James is my brother. I’m Homer, I’m the hall monitor for this semester. You lost?” He greeted Andrew. He noticed that Homer was stereotypically gay, from his limp hand to his lip gloss, which was ironic considering James’s politics and harsh nature. This was a complete contrast to his brother.

“Yes.” Andrew admitted, “I’m new. Andrew J. Cappy. I met your brother at the bus stop this morning… twins?”

Homer nodded. “Yup! April, Taurus, blah blah blah. Can I see your schedule, cutie?”

Andrew tried not to blush as he handed the schedule over to Homer. He took it gently, glancing over it and biting his lip. Everything this boy did was a sexual tease, and Andrew was a mix of impressed and confused. He looked exactly like James beside the clothing and demeanor. It was horrific. 

“Ok! Locker 223! Follow me.” Homer said, handing the paper back to him and sashaying in front of Andrew and down the hall. Andrew followed quickly, feeling sheepish. He glanced at the schedule again and noticed that Homer had written his phone number on it. Andrew didn’t remember seeing a pen.

“You said you’re hall monitor this semester?”

“They pick random seniors every quarter or something. You’re a senior, right?”

“Yeah. I just transferred from the private school across town.”

“Oh, man, I heard about you from James! He was texting up a storm about this stupid pretentious rich boy riding the bus now.”

Homer turned around, walking backward for a moment. “He didn’t say that you were such a damn dream boat though.” Homer winked and turned back around.

They arrived at locker #223. Andrew quickly got it open and started getting his stuff put away and grabbing what he needed. Homer explained, “Your locker is really out of the way, so I recommend buddying up based on who’s in your next classes.” Homer grabbed the schedule away again and got out a sparkly pink gel pen. He started making notes. “I’m writing down where your classes are. Go to the office later and ask for a map. They have them, that lazy fucking cunt bitch just doesn’t want to do her fucking job.” He handed the paper back.

Andrew took it and tucked it away in his binder. “Thanks.” He huffed, “And I don’t suppose you have a hall pass or late pass?”

“I do!” Homer giggled, getting out a sticky notepad and jotting some stuff down. “But your homeroom is Mr. Guevara, and he’s a total softie. You’d be fine without one anyways.”

Homer led the way to Andrew’s homeroom, rambling on and on about the school history and such. Andrew zoned out a bit. He was thinking about whether Richard had texted back yet. They finally got to the homeroom class after another minute of walking.

“Thank you, Homer, it was good to meet you!” Andrew grinned and put out a hand to shake. Homer shook it firmly.

“Good to meet you too!”

“Thanks for the pass as well, usually at the private school I would have to suck his dick. I’ll save that for another day I guess.”

Homer didn’t let go and kept shaking his hand. He suddenly smiled and got a weird glint in his eye. “Oh, you fuck authority to get what you want?” Homer asked.

“Yes, of course.” Andrew teased, wincing a bit at Homer’s grip.

“Ok… ok…” Homer sighed, “Let me tell you something.”

He suddenly twisted Andrew’s hand, turned him around, and shoved him against the lockers. Homer effectively pinned him. Andrew dropped his books in the commotion and yelped a bit, squirming against Homer and huffing.

Homer got in close to his ear and giggled, “I’m the School slut here, you got that? I have every faculty member wrapped around my pretty little finger. They bend to my will, Andy. Ok? This is my territory, my land. So back off if you know what’s good for you… Is that clear, degenerate?”

Andrew gasped and nodded quickly as Homer twisted his hand further. 

“Ok good!” Homer laughed innocently, pulling away and picking up Andrew’s books. “I’ll see you in P.E then! Byeeeeeeeee!” He waved after handing the books back and sashayed off once again.

Andrew stood there dumbfounded for a second before taking a deep breath and fixing his posture. He blinked and walked into his homeroom, hand aching with pain and face still slightly pink. Andrew would have to find other ways to get what he wants.

Chapter Text

Once Andrew got a map of the school layout from his homeroom teacher, Mr. Guevara, he was able to get around the school much easier. His first day was a total blur of classes and students. Andrew spent most of his time just trying to make sure he got to the right classes on time. His classmates were mostly repetitive. 

His homeroom was him and Angel, his current events class had him, Homer, James, Andy/Anne, Karl, and “Nazbol”. (He still couldn’t figure out the student’s real name, as everybody else also insisted that that was the only name that they knew him by. Andrew planned to continue asking around anyway). His next two classes after that, English and math, were boring and didn’t matter. Then he had space science with Angel and Homer, then lunch with everybody, then study hall with James and Andy/Anne, then French with James and Homer, then P.E. with everybody once again.

Andrew finally made it to P.E., the end of the day, and was faced with the difficult realization that P.E. at public school was created by Satan himself as a way to ruin teenagers’ dreams of ever being happy or feeling good about themselves in even the smallest ways. While Andrew was aware that he wasn’t the most athletic student in the world, he didn’t understand how they could expect so much exercise out of him! They had to do two warm-up laps, and then they did stretches, and then they did more drills and exercises for the rest of class until there were only five minutes left before the last bell of the day.

“You look worse than me on a Saturday with the football team.” Homer teased him on their way into the locker room. “No P.E. at private school?” 

Andrew hissed, “No. They didn’t work us to the god damn bone when exercising? Do you people never get to lift weights or do yoga or anything fun ever?”

“Aw, poor baby!” Andy teased while que reapplied quer mascara in a compact mirror.

“Whatever, I’m going to shower.”

A few people near Andrew stopped and stared at him. He looked at them right back, frozen in his spot.

“What.” Andrew shrugged. “What- why- why are we all staring at me? What?”

Homer giggled a bit, “Shower?”

It took a moment for the dots to connect in Andrew’s head. He slammed his P.E. locker shut and screeched, “DO YOU NOT SHOWER IN THIS GODDAMN SCHOOL AFTER P.E.?! NO WONDER SO MANY OF YOU SMELL BAD! OH MY GOD!” 

“Not me. I use perfume.” Homer said, getting out a bottle of rose-scented perfume and spraying himself a little bit. Andy nodded and got some deodorant out of quer locker, quickly putting some on. Que passed it onto Andrew as a pity gift. Andrew cringed as he took it and put it on before getting his shirt back on.

The final bell rang, and students rushed to get their things together and head to their lockers to go home. Andrew realized he had no idea which bus he was supposed to get on, and quickly tried to find Angel or James in the crowd to get home.

He spotted James’s bright blonde hair across the hall and shoved past other students to reach him. “Hey!” Andrew called, “Hey! Fascist boy!”

James didn’t stop walking. He called over his shoulder, “I don’t want to associate with you!”

Andrew caught up to him and followed him outside and to the bus. The buses went by colors, so this one was the Yellow Bus, marked by a piece of yellow paper on the window. Andrew sat in the same seat he was in before, behind Angel and in front of James. This time, Angel quickly got on the bus and sat right next to Andrew.

“H-Hey!” Angel grinned, “Mind if I sit?” He asked this as the bus pulled away from the school and he was already sitting down. Andrew forced a smile and nodded. Angel began his rambling: “Nazbol always walks to the convenience store with Karl and then usually gets a ride home on the public bus or from a taxi rather than getting a ride on the school bus home and I would go with them but I don’t have a lot of money s-s-so I just go home instead! But I-I-I’ve been saving up my allowance money in h-h-hopes that I can go with him and Karl a-a-and get slushies with them at the convenience store! I think they also get groceries or something but I don’t know b-b-because I’ve never really gone before but-”

“That’s wonderful, Angel.” Andrew sighed. Angel continued going on, not taking any hints from Andrew’s annoyed tone to stop talking. While Angel continued to ramble, Andrew checked his phone again.

Richard:   Hey, I don’t think your texts are sending right. Is your service shittier there? I wouldn’t be surprised.

Min:   How was it today?

Andrew was immediately even more annoyed that his texts didn’t even send properly! Stupid Samsung phone, one day he would get the money to get the best Apple phone available on the market. But for now, he got what he got for phones. 

Andrew:   It went by fast, I met some people that suck and some that don’t. It was okay EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT THEY DONT SHOWER AFTER PE IT IS SO GROSS IM SO GLAD I HAVE IT AT THE END OF THE DAY THANK GOD BECAUSE THEY DONT SHOWER EWW

Richard:   that is disgusting ew

Hans:   Heathens.

Andrew:  also i started later than everybody else but i still have to take this space science test next week?! Its homophobic i swear. Oh! And speaking of Homophobic! I can’t fuck my way through problems because theres already a school slut and he threatened me with death if i “got    in his way”. Fucking prick

Richard: That’s brutal andy

Min:   We have tests starting next week too. Quarter 1 Exams. You don’t have to take those anymore, lucky you. -_-

Min had always been the petty type. Andrew didn’t consider getting kicked out of private school any privilege. It was the worst thing to ever happen to him in quite a while. But Andrew wasn’t going to be petty back. He was fine (not really). It was fine. (It wasn’t).

Richard:   You still gotta take those shitty SATs and stuff, so i’d call it even. And you don’t get showers after P.E. Ew.

Andrew:   Don’t worry, I’m showering right when I get home!! A nice, long, and hot bubble bath with plenty of salts so my skin stays clean.

Richard : Sounds lovely as always Andy

Andrew didn’t even have a bathtub, let alone the money to take a bubble bath with salts. If he even showered longer than two minutes his mother would scream at him for stretching their water bill. In reality, his “relaxing bubble bath” was going to be a less than two-minute rinse-off and then a nap to feel better.

“Who are you always t-t-t-texting?” Angel asked, poking Andrew’s cheek to get his attention. He noticed that he had been zoning out, not listening to his ramblings, but didn’t mind. Angel never got to ramble to his family like this at home, they were always busy working or doing something around the house. 

Andrew looked up from his phone. “Oh um… My friends from private school. Richard, Min, and Hans. I was telling them how much I hate public school.”

“Oh! F-f-fun!” Angel nodded and glanced at his phone. Andrew moved his phone back to his pocket and looked at Angel, waiting for him to continue rambling. 

The bus reached the stop before Angel could start again, and all of the teens scrambled off to go home and do homework or slack off any way that they could. 

Andrew waved goodbye to the new students he met and sighed. He started the trek back home.

“Hey! You live this way?” 

Andrew was suddenly accompanied by the three punk kids from that morning. Andy and quer two friends that Andrew hadn’t met yet. One of them wore dark pinks and blacks, with several different piercings, bracelets, and chains decorating them from head to toe. The other was wearing a white blouse, a black skirt, and black flats with tights. She looked a little like a flight attendant. She wore a loose white headscarf and a medallion with a peace sign.

 “I’m Hannah.” The first one said, putting out a hand for Andrew to shake. “They/them pronouns.” Andrew shook it firmly.

The next one introduced, “And I’m Anna. She/her pronouns please.” Andrew put his hand out for her and she shook it daintily.

“Andrew J. Cappy.” Andrew greeted, “It’s good to meet you both. You all live on this side of town?”

“This town, yes. We all live together, actually!”

“We’re foster siblings.”

“All in the same foster house!”

“Huh.” Andrew wondered what it was like to have siblings. He was the only mistake his mother popped out, shockingly. (To his knowledge at least). “That’s cool that you’re all siblings and friends.”

“Yeah, it’s nice! Did you like your first day?” Hannah asked. “I heard you’ve got study hall with the fucking nazi. Sucks. But at least Andy will have somebody else to sit with.”

“You sit with him?” Andrew questioned, looking at Andy, who was kicking a rock down the sidewalk ahead of quem.

Andy shrugged and said. “We debate… well, more arguments but… yeah. It’ll be nice to have a third voice there.” They were just a block away from the foster home. Andrew was thankful their house came up before his. He still had at least eight blocks to go before he was home. “So what are your political beliefs, private schoolboy?”

“Oh well…” Andrew thought about it. “I suppose I’m right-leaning. I’m an Anarcho-Capitalist to be specific.”

Hannah and Andy both cringed and moved away a bit. They arrived at the foster house. Hannah rolled their eyes and went inside immediately. Andy said, “Yeah, okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, anarcho-fake. Let me know when you get a better political alignment.” Que went inside and slammed the door shut behind quem.

Andrew looked at Anna. Anna smiled nervously and said, “They’re passionate… It was very nice to meet you, Andrew. I will see you tomorrow!” She curtsied and quickly skipped inside the house to catch up with her older siblings. Andrew waved a little before sighing and moving on to finish his walk home.

Andrew snuck his way through the house and up to his room, easily avoiding his drunk mother and arguing father in the living room. He locked the door and slipped his earbuds in, listening to whatever came up on Spotify to block out his wretched parents. Then he flopped onto his bed and pulled his phone out.

Andrew: Can we hang out this weekend? Boba tea Saturday at noon per usual?

Richard:   Sounds good to me :)

Min:   I’ll see

Hans: k

They always went out on the weekend to go get coffee or lunch or go shopping. Andrew loved to go hang out with them. The only downside was that it meant he would have to dig around the house for extra cash, and if that didn’t work, he would have to give one or two of the employees a sexual favor to pay his lunch bill. This happened all too often. Andrew was surprised he didn’t have an STD by this point. Thank God tests were free.

He was excited to hang out with his friends again that weekend! It would make things feel a little less awful. Andrew heard some shattering downstairs and winced. He turned the music up on his phone and curled up on the bed. Then he left the group chat and moved to private chat with Richard.

Andrew:   I’m excited to get boba tea with you guys

Really just you, Andrew thought, I really just want to see you again. Gently nudge your foot under the table. Spend the night at your house. Stay up until three talking about anything and everything we can.

“I CAN NOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD FUCKING SAY THAT TO ME YOU GODDAMN FUCKING CUNT!”

"I'M NOT TAKING IT BACK YOU DRUNK BITCH! ALL YOU FUCKING DO IS LIE AROUND AND DRINK DRINK DRINK!"

Andrew huffed to himself, “I’m gonna get hearing damage if I turn my music any fucking higher.” He did so anyway, turning the earbud volume up to muffle the sound of his parents.

Richy<3: Me too. No sleepover, we’re doing work on the house and papa doesn’t want anybody around right now. Sorry, andy

Andrew:   that’s fine silly, as long as we can hang out

Andrew: <3

Andrew waited patiently, biting his lip nervously waiting for Richard’s reply.

Richy<3: I’ll see you Saturday goof <3

He sighed and pulled the pillow to his chest, burying his face in it. His face was a bright red blushing mess, worse than a tomato, at just the thought of Richard ever returning his damned feelings. Andrew was sure that one day Richard would, even if it was only a little bit.

He set a thirty-minute alarm on his phone and set it on the nightstand, quickly dozing off and taking a nap. In thirty minutes his parents will have stopped yelling and stormed off to separate rooms to cry or pout or whatever they did after they screamed about divorce and then didn’t commit. Andrew almost wished they would. In thirty minutes he could sneak off to the shower uninterrupted.

So Andrew slept and he waited for the house to be silent.

Chapter Text

Saturday afternoon. Andrew wore the nicest clothes he could find. A button-up shirt with a polo sweater over it, some nice slacks, and the cleanest pair of vans he could find. His fancy sunglasses, a gold watch, and a hat completed the look. In reality, the button-up was his father’s, the slacks were from school, the polo sweater and vans were thrift store finds, the sunglasses and hat were a gift several years ago, and the watch was stolen. Andrew was a master at blending into his rich group of friends. 

He got there ten minutes early so they would have a good table by the window and far from the bathroom. Andrew only managed to find $5 around his house, so he would have to do a little extra work to pay his bill. 

Andrew tapped his fingers on the table, checking his phone occasionally and waiting for his friends to arrive. The waitress came by several times to double-check if he wanted anything, and he insisted that he was waiting for three other people.

It was 12:10. They could be running late. Andrew got his phone out and went onto the group chat.

Andrew: Hey where are you guys?

Hans:  Home.

Andrew:   Oh so just Min and Richard and I for boba? Where are the rest of you?

It took another few minutes for somebody else to even respond.

Min:   Oh Andrew I’m sorry, I got caught up studying for a big exam and I completely forgot to ask my parents about lunch. Sorry.

Richard:   I’m caught up helping my dad with renovations around the house, Andrew. I’m sorry. There’s a lot of stuff to finish up, I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’m really sorry, we could reschedule for Sunday?

Andrew stared at his phone. He didn’t know what to do now. Sitting in a store full of drinks he couldn’t afford, stranded without his friends, and with no money either. He tapped his foot a few times before sighing and replying to the group chat.

Andrew: No, no you guys have to study for exams. I get it. I should study too, I have a space science test coming up anyways.

A space science test that he completely didn’t understand. He had tried sitting down and doing the homework, but he really couldn’t bring himself to understand the concepts at all. He was so far behind on the unit, and this was supposed to be easy stuff according to the teacher. Andrew got more pissed off the more he thought about the damn test. He put his phone away and left the boba shop. He was about to start his angry walk home, which was across town when he ran into a familiar face. Andrew quite literally ran into the familiar face, stumbling and falling on the ground with how fast he had been trying to leave. 

“Oh!” Angel gasped, “Andrew, I’m sorry! I didn’t even s-s-see you there!” Angel quickly helped Andrew off the ground.

Andrew huffed, “You made me get dirt marks on my damn sweater! You idiot!” He brushed himself off and tried to wipe the dirt away from the front of his sweater. “This- this cost a fortune!” It cost a month’s worth of savings, which made it all the more upsetting that it now had a stain on it.

“I-I’m- I’m really sorry. I can pay for it, um, h-h-here!” Angel rushed to get out his Pikachu-themed wallet and pulled out…

Andrew stared at the large amount of cash in Angel’s hands. 

“How much is that?”

“It’s my allowance I’ve been saving up… “

“Which is?”

“About… um… maybe $200?”

Angel stared up at Andrew, still holding out the money and looking so nervous about whatever Andrew might do next. Something told Andrew that this was not the first time Angel had been in this position. Bullied and had his money stolen. Andrew’s heart sank and he shook his head.

“No. Keep it. I’m sorry I yelled.” Andrew said quietly. “Goodbye.” He walked away, heading for home.

Surprisingly, Angel followed him. He kept up a quick enough pace to keep up but still stay slightly behind Andrew. Angel asked, “Wh-What’re you doing here today? I was going to go to the comic book store next door t-t-to the boba shop so I c-c-could get some new comic b-b-books or graphic n-novels and I was hoping that they had some new s-s-selections in the alien and monster category, but they probably don’t s-since I just checked three d-days ago. I love comic books about space and monsters- really anything a-a-about space and monsters i-i-is great to read!”

Andrew perked up. “You like space?” He asked as the gears turned in his head.

“Oh of course!” Anel replied, “I-I-It’s my favorite! Our space s-science class together? It’s my favorite class o-o-out of the entire day! Well, that and lunch because I get to v-v-visit with Nazbol and-”

“Hey.” Andrew stopped and turned to Angel with a grin. “Do you want to study together? For the test next week?”

Angel’s face slowly changed to the brightest grin Andrew had ever seen. He watched Angel giggle and bounce a bit at the idea of getting to hang out. Angel asked, “At my house?”

“Of course. My house is being renovated, so I can’t have anybody over anyways. We can go to your house and study for the test next week together. It’ll be a fun little study session.” And a perfect opportunity to convince you to give me all of the answers next week. “Sound good? We could go now if you aren’t busy.”

“Yeah yeah yeah!” Angel grabbed Andrew’s hand and pulled him in the other direction from where they were going. “I live this way! C-C-Come on! It’ll be so fun! We can go to my house and I’ll show you all of my stuff and my room a-a-and everything it’ll be so cool you’ll love it I-I-I just know it and we can stay up late and drink soda a-a-and-”

Andrew regretted the entire idea and they hadn’t even gotten to Angel’s house.

Angel lived in another town than Andrew did, but just as lower class and poor. Stores and buildings were near dead or run down, streets were covered with garbage and makeshift beds for the homeless, and the street lamps flickered above them once they came on at all. Andrew held Angel’s hand tightly. He recalled a faint memory from when he was much younger, and his parents would warn him about areas like this. Andrew had no way to defend himself. He let Angel lead the way down the road to an old apartment building. They got in with a key and went upstairs to the second floor.

“¡Ángel! ¿Dónde has estado?”

Andrew didn’t know much Spanish. His father did, but he never bothered to teach him anything.

Angel sighed and replied loudly as he quickly led the way to where his room was, “¡S-Salí a caminar! ¡Traje a u-u-un amigo a casa, estamos estudiando p-p-para la c-c-clase de ciencias!” Angel’s Spanish sounded flawless, and Andrew couldn’t help but like the sound of it.

Andrew was pulled into a bedroom and the door quickly shut behind him. It was pitch black. Angel giggled and turned on the lights, which were rainbow-colored Christmas lights all around the ceiling of the room. It was quaint and reminded Andrew of Hans’s LED light set up in his bedroom. He felt a bit sad at remembering it. 

“Welcome t-t-to my room!” Angel grinned, standing in the middle of it and putting his hands on his hips with pride.

“Wow…” Andrew smiled nervously. Forced. “It’s nice… Very small. Quaint. Can I sit?” He gestured to the bed, which Andrew realized was covered all over the pillows with plushies and stuffed animals of all different kinds. A large dolphin stood out.

Angel nodded and hopped up onto the bed. He patted the spot next to him before Andrew sat down slowly, still taking in the unfamiliar setting. The two sat quietly for a moment. Andrew’s eyes wandered about. There were lots of books on the shelves with topics ranging from insects to video games to geology, there was a fuzzy rug in the middle of the room with a racetrack print on it- like what you would see in a kindergarten classroom, there was a desk covered with crayons and markers and printer paper, and Angel’s school stuff was in a pile in the corner by his dresser.

“Do you l-l-like it?” Angel asked, adjusting one of the plushies so it was sitting upright. Andrew blinked.

“It’s… interesting.”

“Yeah!”

“So… The space science test next week-”

Angel gasped, “Oh! Can I i-i-introduce you to m-my plushies!” He crawled around Andrew to the pile of stuffed animals. He picked up a yellow fluffy build-a-bear animal in an astronaut uniform. “Look look look! This was my first stuffed animal I e-ever got, well, actually s-second one! My a-adopted family got him f-f-for me and I named him Angel Jr! Do you have any stuffed animals at home- maybe one day we could have a stuffed animal playdate because I have a tea set that we could-”

“Maybe, yeah,” Andrew interrupted, “Angel, really, the test next week- can we study for it?” 

He didn’t want to hurt Angel’s feelings, and he was sure the poor boy rarely had friends or guests besides Nazbol come along ever, but Andrew needed to figure out the information before the test. It was bad enough he even had to go to public school.

Angel nodded and giggled, “Can I sh-sh-show you one more? Please? Then we can study all n-night.” Andrew sighed and nodded. Angel grabbed the giant dolphin plush, holding it close to his chest and nuzzling it like a kitten. Andrew stared, a little uncomfortable. 

“This one…” Angel explained, “Is Nazbol the First.” This implied that there were more plushies named Nazbol, which worried Andrew a little. That seemed obsessive, and obsessive behavior was not something that Andrew wanted to get involved with or become a part of. Angel continued, “It was the f-f-first stuffed animal I ever g-got! And Nazbol got him f-f-for me for my birthday party! He was the only one that showed up, and I was so happy when he did- even if he was almost t-twenty minutes late with a barely wrapped present… he’s really sweet.” Angel’s cheeks went pink as he looked down at the dolphin, gently petting the fur and smiling uncontrollably. 

Andrew asked, “Do you… have a little crush on him?” Angel buried his face in the dolphin and giggled loudly.

“No!” Angel insisted, “N-n-no I don’t! He’s just…” He trailed off and lifted his head a bit, face still bright pink with embarrassment.

“It’s fine if you are, Angel. Come on.”

“Well, I mean, I don't know! We hang out all the time and he’s my only real f-f-friend besides you and Grug, but I don’t hang out with him much since we don’t share many interests besides drawing but I don’t take a-a-art class because it won’t fit in my class schedule s-so we only interact when our families hang o-o-out which is pretty rare since we’re both busy all the t-t-time and-”

Andrew huffed, “Angel. Do you like Nazbol more than as a friend? Answer now- 5, 4, 3-”

“Yes!” Angel gasped. “I do, I do, I do!” He covered his face with the dolphin again, giggling at the confession.

While Angel giggled and started rambling about Nazbol’s eyes and hair and other attractive features- (though Andrew didn’t understand how anything about Nazbol could be seen as attractive-), Andrew got up and searched about the room for the space science books. There, surprisingly, weren’t any on the shelves or in the pile of school stuff. He frowned and checked his phone. It was nearing 2 pm.

He tuned back into whatever Angel was saying. “-and sometimes we’ll go to his house a-a-and share a bed because the guest room is scary, but then we’ll wake up cuddling! I don’t know if he’s the one initiating in his sleep or if I’m doing it in my sleep but-”

“Angel, where are your books for class?” Andrew interrupted. Angel trailed off like a car breaking down. He pursed his lips.

Angel guessed, “Shelf?”

“Nope.”

“Backpack?”

“No.”

“... um… O-okay so…”

“ANGEL!” Andrew groaned, “Do you not have the damn books?!” He crossed his arms and tapped his foot with annoyance. Angel shrunk down a bit and smiled nervously. He began biting his nails while Andrew continued complaining. “I need to get the information down so I know what I’m doing on this stupid test! I can’t possibly learn the information if we don’t have the books or study guides or- or- Oh my God! Angel, what the hell!”

“I didn’t take my books home, Andrew, I-I-I’m really sorry, I…” Angel looked down and folded his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry.” He shrugged a little. 

Andrew glared as if that would make the science books appear in front of him. He didn’t say anything and watched Angel squirm on the bed with discomfort. Angel’s hands were starting to get sweaty, and he began wiping his palms on his pants. Andrew watched him shake his head a little.

“I’m sorry- I mean- We could try texting s-s-somebody to borrow their book, but I don’t know anybody e-e-else in that class that I get along with a-a-at all unless you know somebody, but you’re new so I-I don’t know- I- I don’t-” Andrew frowned and uncrossed his arms as Angel began sniffling and digging his hands into his legs.

“Angel?” Andrew asked, “Hey-”

Angel snapped, “I-I’m sorry, you can l-l-leave, I don’t- It’s f-fine… I’m sorry I- I’m sorry.”

Andrew got back on the bed. “No, no.” Andrew sighed sadly, “No. I’m sorry I snapped at you, it’s not your fault that I can’t retain information in class because I’m too busy-” He took a deep breath and resisted the urge to trauma-dump on Angel. “I’m sorry I yelled… Are you okay?”

“Mhm…” Angel, who was very clearly not okay, sniffled and quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeves. His tears were dripping onto his pants. Andrew tried to think of something to cheer him up. He quickly grabbed the dolphin plush and nudged Angel with it. Angel looked up a little, eyes red and lip quivering.

“Um…” Andrew cleared his throat and dropped his voice an octave, moving the dolphin back and forth to give the illusion that it was the one talking. “I’m sorry, Angel, we can do something else more fun instead of studying! What do you like to do?”

Angel smiled a little bit at that. He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He got up and took off his sweater, now only in his t-shirt and pants. “We c-c-can, um, we can make a blanket fort? To sleep in?”

“Sure.” Andrew returned to his normal voice and asked, “How do you do that?”

“You’ve never made a p-p-pillow fort?!”
“Well, um, no, I-”

“Oh, you’re in luck! I m-make the best forts around! Quick, grab those pillows!”

So, for the next two hours, Angel taught Andrew the intricacies of building pillow and blanket forts, and how important wall support was, and also how important it was to have good airflow through your fort, and so on and so on until Andrew was sure he could make a pillow fort anywhere in any setting at this rate.

It was a lot more fun than Andrew had expected. Angel, once you got past the stutter and constant rambling, was quite funny and adorable to hang out with. The two spent most of the time talking about school and everybody that went there, along with all of the hot gossip that they could think of. 

 By the time they finished the fort, Andrew and Angel were lying next to each other giggling their heads off about all their classmates. It was quite an unexpected friendship.

“I cannot believe that would happen! How do you even get the idea to do that in a damn school building?!” Andrew scoffed, face red from laughing so hard at Angel’s story.

Angel giggled, “I don’t know, b-b-but Hannah and Andy weren’t allowed b-b-back at school for w-weeks! And the day they came b-b-back, they were r-royalty of the school for it!” The two continued to laugh about it, staring at the makeshift blanket fort ceiling. “Gosh, I don’t even know how they afforded all of the p-paint…”

“Right...” Andrew guessed, “Maybe they had money from their families or something?” Angel nodded a bit, turning to face Andrew.

“Do you get a lot of money from your family?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. When they aren’t fucking drunk and arguing all the time.”

The comment slipped out before Andrew could stop it, and he closed his eyes to mentally reflect on the embarrassment of letting it slip. He waited for the inevitable comments from Angel. Wow, TMI. Oh, sorry about that, anyways. Woah your parents are alcoholics? Yikes. That’s rough, buddy. Ahahah, okay?

“... Are you okay?” Angel asked quietly, gently poking his arm. Andrew opened his eyes and looked at him, confused.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay. What’s wrong?”

“Well… Sometimes Andy makes comments like that… Or one of my other friends, Huey, they’ll make comments about hating themselves or family issues and… I don’t know, usually, it’s because they want to talk about it.”

Angel poked his arm again. “Do you want to talk about it, Andrew?”

“Of course not!” Andrew huffed, looking away. “I’m fine. I didn’t even mean to say that, it slipped out. Just forget you ever heard it at all.”

Angel didn’t reply for a second. He chewed on his lip nervously before saying quietly, “My parents f-f-fight too. They get really upset sometimes and just argue back and forth all night… I can fall asleep to it now, but for a long time, I couldn’t sleep at all at n-n-night… I’m sorry that you have to deal with that t-t-too.”

Andrew took a moment to process what Angel said before replying softly, “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” Angel said, “I-I-I don’t think you can swing a bat without finding s-somebody with family issues so… you aren’t alone. I mean, Andy’s pretty open about it, but quer home l-life before foster care was really b-b-bad. Physical abuse a-and such… And que was poor too, still is. Lots of us are.” He smiled and poked Andrew’s cheek. “Lucky you though, huh? I’m s-s-sorry, I’m probably not helping.”

“You’re fine,” Andrew said, trying to focus on the patterns on the ceiling sheets. “Keep talking.”

Angel did so. “Like I said, e-everybody around here has plenty of issues. So you can always f-f-find people to relate to or talk with! That’s nice, huh? One time I got with a group of people and we placed money down and tried to figure out who had the worst situation and most ‘minority p-p-points’... We realized it was Anna because the p-p-poor girl didn’t even have any money to bet. Her l-l-life before foster care was rough too. And she’s trans. So. Y’know.”

“She is?” Andrew asked, “She’s so…”

“Pretty and feminine looking for somebody s-still taking estrogen? Yeah, she tries her best. She’s open about b-being trans but she still worries about p-p-people never seeing her as a woman, y’know? She does a lot of feminine hobbies to ‘make up for it’, not that she needs to.” Angel explained, “She does scrapbooking, ballet, plays piano-”

“I like piano.” Andrew said, “I never learned, but I play guitar…” He smiled a little. “I always wanted to start a band, but my private school friends were too damn busy. Tennis practices and private club meetings, and other bullshit… I had more free time I suppose.”

Angel replied, “Well, a lot of other people play instruments. I bet you’ve got a bunch of guitars, huh?” He turned and stared at the ceiling too. “How many, Andrew?”

“Oh, gosh,” Andrew forced a laugh. “You have no idea.”

He really has no idea.

“Nazbol has some instruments, mostly techno stuff like a synth and keyboard! Also, some basses though, since Karl plays the bass. Maybe drums too?”

He thinks I’m some big private school hotshot and…

“I went over once and we played the synth together! It was so much f-f-fun!”

… I’m nothing

“Do you play anything besides guitar? Probably something fancy- Violin?”

“I’m poor.”

Angel laughed a bit and nodded. “Oh, I’m sure. What is it, piano? James kn-knows-”

“I don’t have any money.” Andrew snapped, still staring up at the sheet ceiling, unblinking. “I have one old guitar I got at a pawn shop with all of my savings, and I had to give up two weeks of lunch at private school just to get the damn thing, and I haven’t replaced the broken strings in months because I can’t stop spending the few dollars I manage to get together because I need to spend it on clothes and drinks and other stupid, unnecessary bullshit to make sure that nobody finds out and- and I can’t even afford the lunch at school so I go hungry until I get home and find random leftovers to eat, but God fucking forbid I eat too much or my mother will throw a god damn bottle of alcohol at me for- for taking what isn’t mine and-”

Andrew grabbed the nearest pillow and covered his face, screaming into it and digging his nails into the fabric. He sobbed loudly.

After a few sobs had passed by, Andrew felt a hand gently rub his shoulder, and it only made him feel worse. For needing any kind of comfort, and for bothering Angel with the information. He was probably ruined now. Everybody would find out that he was some poor nobody, just like every other damn person on the planet, and then he would be like every other poor kid trying to push his way to the top and failing to accomplish anything in the end. Dying with no purpose.

“Thank you for telling me.” Angel said quietly, “Who else knows?”

“...Nobody.” Andrew moved the pillow, hugging it tightly to his chest. He sniffled. “Just you.”

Angel felt a weird sense of power at realizing he was the only one. But, unlike Andrew’s interpretation, he took this power as something fragile and meant to be protected. He nodded a little, a look of determination on his face as he sat up. He held up his right hand and said, “Andrew J. Cappy, as my new best friend, I promise that no other living being on this Earth will find out that you aren’t a rich kid.”

Andrew scoffed, “Thanks. I’ll see you at school next week when the entire student body knows- what- Hey!” He gasped as Angel suddenly climbed on top of him and held his face tightly in his hands. Andrew squirmed but finally stopped after a few seconds when Angel wasn’t saying anything, eerily quiet as he stared down at Andrew with that same look of determination.

“Andrew.” Angel said, “Nobody will know but you and me. My lips are sealed eternally. I promise. I swear on my life and the s-s-stars and the moon and my twenty-six plushies named after Nazbol.”

“Twenty-six,” Andrew breathed.

He stared up at Angel. He had nothing else to lose really… and it would be nice to have a friend to not have to hide and put up walls with. Even with Richard, he had to keep up walls and the stupid rich boy façade.

Maybe this isn’t going to be too bad… Andrew nodded a little and said, “Okay… Okay.” It isn't the worst person to find out my secret. Angel huffed him tightly, which was a little awkward since they were lying on the ground. It was almost like a cuddle, but tighter. Ok, maybe it is. After a second, Andrew patted his back. “O-Okay, Angel. Get up now.” Angel pulled away and giggled a little. 

Andrew sighed and stared up at Angel. The two stared. An awkward few seconds of silence settled.

“Wanna call Nazbol and ask him out?” Andrew asked with a shrug.

Angel squealed and grabbed his phone.

Chapter Text

By Monday the following week, Angel was a nervous wreck about seeing Nazbol on the bus. They hadn’t spoken since the awkward phone call at the sleepover last weekend, and it left Angel with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He bounced his leg, sitting extremely close to Andrew like it would save him from any impending doom possible.

“Oh it’s going to be fine,” Andrew sighed, “Don’t freak out. You two hang out all the time, don’t you?”

Angel whined, “I think I’m gonna be sick. We’re getting up to his stop!” Andrew had noticed that too. He watched the bus stop, pick up the mysterious Karl Ommie, watched him march to the back of the bus, and then the bus continued on its route. 

“Go sit in your usual seat.” Andrew said, “He’ll want to sit with you, right?” He nudged Angel, trying to get the poor thing to move, but he wouldn’t budge. Angel pulled his hood up over his face and tried to hide as the bus stopped once again.

Immediately the bus was filled with chatter at the sight. Nazbol was carrying a very large stuffed orange bear and a large box of what appeared to be candies and chocolates. There was also a smaller gift stacked on top, wrapped up with a bright orange bow. He was struggling to carry the gifts, his backpack, and his lunch box. He practically fell into his usual seat, setting the items down. It didn’t even occur to him that Angel wasn’t in the seat.

Nazbol looked around for a second. He then glanced underneath the pile of items to check if he accidentally squished the poor boy. 

Andrew tried to hold back his laughter at the stupidity. He sighed, “Loverboy, he’s sitting next to me! Right here.” He nudged Angel again, who curled up more in the seat, hiding his face in his knees.

Nazbol grinned and greeted, “Angel! Comrade! Why are you curling up and hiding, I have brought you gifts!” 

Angel lifted his head a little, eyes slightly teary-eyed. He mumbled, “ What?” He sat up in the seat and looked over into his usual spot, now filled up with gifts. Nazbol was grinning ear to ear. He moved aside so that Angel could quickly sneak back into his usual spot. Angel began to giggle, quickly grabbing the bear that was almost as big as he was and hugging it tightly.

“I am so sorry that I did not reply faster, I needed the weekend to think about the best way to come forward about my feelings!” Nazbol explained, “You are very close to me and I wanted to get you your favorite things! Another stuffed animal, a box of dark chocolate and sour gummy candy, and a final gift for you!”

Angel hugged Nazbol tight, squishing the orange bear between the two of them. “Nazbol, this is so sweet! I- I didn’t know you were gonna get me all this! Oh, but I didn’t g-g-get you anything though!” 

“Do not worry about it, Comrade!” Nazbol announced, “You can repay me by being my, um…” He suddenly realized how loud he was talking and blushed furiously. “My boyfriend! Да!”

There were some cheers on the bus, most likely from Hannah and Anne (or Andy, Andrew didn’t pay attention to what name que was going by that day). There were also some groans of annoyance, specifically from James. Andrew clapped excitedly. He leaned over to the seat and teased, “Hey, do I get a gift for getting you two lovebirds together? Huh?”

“No!” Nazbol laughed, “Capitalist scum, I do not buy gifts for you. Maybe on your birthday!”

Andrew sighed and sunk back down in his seat. Figures. I do all that hard work and what do I get out of it besides a passing grade in space science and the knowledge that one of my new friends is happily in love?  

Speaking of love… Andrew quickly got his phone out and began checking Snapchat. It seemed like his friends rarely texted, and he couldn’t tell if that was because they were losing interest or they had never texted in the first place since they were all in the same place. He was about to type out a message, asking when the next private school event was before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“A word.” 

“I’m sorry- H-Hey!”

He was suddenly being dragged to the back of the bus, and it wasn’t until he was shoved into a seat that he realized who had grabbed him so roughly.

The mysterious Karl Ommie had grabbed him and was now rummaging through his bag. Andrew was at a loss for words, stammering and digging his hands into his pockets to try and seem braver than he was. He swore his hands were shaking.

“You did that? Correct?” He nodded to the front of the bus where Nazbol and Angel were giggling and cuddling in the seat, trying to come up with a good name for the new stuffed animal. Andrew blinked.

He said, “Well, I mean, um, I- I wouldn’t say I-

“Yes or no.” Karl threw his bag back on the floor and glared at Andrew. “Now. Answer. 5, 4, 3-”

“Yes!’ Andrew blurted out. “I did! But- but if that isn’t okay then I can try to-

“Good. Take this.” Karl shoves a crumpled piece of paper into Andrew’s hands. Andrew fumbled with it for a moment before quickly recognizing it to be a phone number and email. He looked at Karl for an explanation. Karl sighed, “Nazbol was sulking around his home like a baby for weeks, wondering when Angel would finally ask him out. He did not want to go first, afraid that he would be turned down or rejected. Thank you for making the push, otherwise, they would have never dated at all. That is my phone number. Call me in case of emergencies.”

“E-Emergencies?” Andrew started putting the number in his phone.

“Да. Emergencies. Trouble.” Karl shrugged and said, “Whatever. Now go back to the front, Kulak, before I kick in your teeth.”

“Oh, great, another slur I’ll have to look up the definition of! Bye, I guess.” Andrew huffed, fixing his clothes before heading back to his seat at the front. Along the way, another set of hands grabbed him and pulled him into a seat.

Andy this time, forcing Andrew to sit between quem and Hannah. Anna sat in a different seat, giving the three room to talk. She hummed and looked out the window. Andy grabbed the piece of paper while Hannah started taking a quick picture of it on their phone.

Andrew huffed, “I’d like to just sit in my seat and have a normal bus ride to school for once!” He squirmed, grabbed the paper, and shoved the two nosy anarchists away. He growled, “What is the meaning of this, Andy?!”

“Nobody’s ever gotten that phone number before!” Andy whispered quickly, “And it’s- Oh, sorry, I’m going by Anne today I forgot to mention that. If you ever don’t know, I wear different colored bracelets every day depending on-” Andrew opened his mouth to say something snarky, but then Hannah interrupted.

They explained, “Karl is super closed off. Nobody knows anything about him, and that phone number is definitely a start to learning some info.” They leaned closer and teased, “It’s really just Anne’s got a big old crush on the Russian goof!” Anne shoved Hannah and began complaining loudly about how que would never date a Tankie in quer entire life. Andrew took their argument as an opportunity to escape back to his seat.

But, yet again, grabbing hands and landing in uncomfortable seats. Andrew screeched, “What is it this time?!”

James stared blankly. Andrew took a deep breath and snapped coldly, “What. Is. It. James.”

“I was going to give you my number as well,” James said. “You’re… Alright.” He handed over an index card with his phone number, Snapchat, and Twitter written out along the lines. Andrew carefully took it and nodded happily.

“Thank you. This is actually nice.” 

“Yes. Now get the fuck out of my seat you degenerate, this is my private space.”

“Ugh, fine!”

Andrew got up and got back into his seat. He sighed in relief and got his phone back out, relaxing and getting ready to text his friends. 

But just as he began to draft the text the bus stopped and they had arrived at the high school. Andrew’s face was red as a tomato as he pocketed his phone and marched into the service-less building of concrete walls and torture.

Andrew had to get some shopping done after school, for his parents, since they were much too busy not being parents to do it themselves. He had made an itemized list before he left the house of everything they needed and even jotted notes down on how to get the cheapest and well-performing items available. The only hard part now was going and doing that alone. Usually, he would have gone with his old friends from the private school, but after being unable to reach them all day, their afternoon plans became booked up with other clubs and activities. So, Andrew was going alone for now.

He had never been to this grocery store before, as it was on the side of town closer to his new school rather than the old private one. Andrew would have to make sure to be sneaky to avoid being seen by anybody from his new school. This would be a quick in and out trip, no dawdling and no messing around.

Bread, eggs, cheese, lunch meat, mayonnaise, milk. Andrew wondered if the fridge was ever really stocked. How much of this did they need anyways? I wonder if I can save extra and pocket some of the money. I could use it for my next thrift haul!

“Andrew?”

Andrew, hands full of coupons, bread, and a messy shopping list, whipped around in the aisle to face the familiar condescending tone.

“James!” Andrew laughed nervously, “I didn’t know you shopped here! How crazy is that?! Wow! Crazy! Is it hot in here?!”

James blinked. He had a shopping cart full of different cereals, snacks, and a case of root beer. He asked, “Are you always this hyper? Do you have low blood sugar or something?” He pushed the cart over and leaned against it, eyeing the items in Andrew’s hands. “I didn’t expect a rich boy like you to shop at a place like this.”

“Well,” Andrew was quick to save himself. “Everybody needs groceries, right?”

There was a moment of silence between the two, locked in a staring contest and trying to call the other’s bluff. Andrew couldn’t afford to break character and lose everything so early into his new high school. He had to keep this up, he just had to. He watched James look him up and down one more time before sighing and looking away.

“I guess so.” James said, “Mind if I shop with you?” He got out a shopping list of his own. “I have to pick up groceries for my mother.”

“Same here! She loves her coupons and deals, so I’m sorry if I take a while. She gets upset if I go over, like $50? She’s crazy sometimes, I swear.” Andrew said. That’s also all I have in my wallet, and that’s including my own money that I’ve been saving. Mom only gave me $20, that bitch. 

James walked with Andrew and offered half of the cart space for him, to save time. Andrew happily dumped his discount bread in the cart and kept looking for more deals.

“So,” James asked, “How are you liking poor people's school?”

“Oh, it certainly isn’t fun. I can manage, because I’m a survivor, but it is a pain. I don’t know how the rest of you keep up with it sometimes.” Andrew teased. James didn’t react, eyes scanning the shelves for wonder bread. Once he found it he grabbed several loaves and shoved them in the cart. Then he began searching for peanut butter. Andrew laughed about the fact that they shared the same brand. James smiled a little too at that, noting the simplicity and stupidity of Andrew's wonder of it at all.

This continued for their shopping trip, comparing items and lists and coupons. Andrew refused to share his coupons, but he did tell James that they were easy to find if you searched the newspapers often enough. After an hour of shopping, Andrew noticed that James wasn’t even putting things in the cart anymore, just spending time with Andrew for the sake of spending time with him.

I can’t believe this… is he… not an asshole?! Does he have… FEELINGS?! Andrew put some discount cans of soup in the cart and made his way to the checkout.

Now, this was the tricky part. Andrew had to pay with a link card, and he had to accomplish that without James noticing. There also had to be zero problems with the card, because if anything went wrong then James would notice, ergo noticing that it was a link card and not a normal card. Andrew went to a different checkout than James, two over in fact, and quickly began putting his groceries up on the belt. James had fewer items, meaning he had to scan and pay before James did. If he came over to wait while he checked out he would see the link card and then know he needed a link card, which would mean he’s poor!

Andrew practically shoved the link card into the worker’s hands, tapping his foot impatiently as she scanned it and rang up the total. She handed Andrew the receipt and card and wished him a nice evening. 

Just as Andrew shoved the card back into his wallet, James finished paying for his groceries and came over carrying a few bags. He asked, “You ready?”

“Yup!” Andrew said, quickly grabbing all of the bags and wincing with pain at the weight. “I’m good, let’s go.” They went outside. James went to his car, unlocking it and putting all of his groceries in the back. Andrew suddenly remembered his lack of a car. He could take the bus, sure, but what would he tell James?!

James stared. He asked, “Are you coming? I know your car is still in the shop. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Oh, Oh no.” Andrew said, “My parents are supposed to pick me up anyways actually!” This was a lie, but whatever got James to drive away faster would be fine.

James nodded and replied, “Makes sense. Well, you have my number if there are any problems.” He put the car into reverse, foot still on the brake, but didn’t leave. James looked away, rubbed his neck, and then looked back at Andrew. “Hey um… Do you want to come to my house tonight? To hang out…?”

HE DOES HAVE FEELINGS! OH MY GOD! 

“ Yes!” Andrew said, maybe a little too eager. “I mean. Yeah, that sounds cool. If you text me the address I’ll have my parents drop me off there later?” Around dinner maybe?”

“Sure. My mother isn’t going to be home, there should be pizza or something.” James shrugged and rolled up the window, not even bothering to say goodbye. Andrew watched him drive off, down the road a few blocks, and then turning and going out of his sight. He took a deep breath and scooped up his groceries, heading for the nearest bus stop.

It took an hour and a half to get home due to a mix-up in bus routes, but Andrew eventually made it with half-melted ice cream and most likely spoiled eggs and milk. He stumbled into the house, dropping the groceries on the counter and heading straight for his bedroom. I’ll put them away later, he told himself, Right now I need to rest. My legs are so, so fucking sore! Andrew collapsed on his bed, grabbing his pillow and cuddling it tightly.

He got his phone out and checked it. No messages. He sighed and opened Snapchat.

Andrew: Worst day ever, I'm exhausted! How is school over there?

Richard: It’s decent, practicing for tests and other bullshit. Not the same without you. 

Andrew: Well if you all miss me so so much then we should plan a get-together! One that everybody remembers to go to lol

Hans: Busy.

Min: Oh sure that sounds fun!

Hans: Not busy*. Min, driev me to whatever we’re doign.

Andrew: Good to know you havent changed at all Hans!

Hans: what

Andrew: Nothing lol… Anyways that aside! Maybe this weekend we can all go shopping together? It’ll be fun! Just like old times!

Richard: Sounds great. Saturday afternoon.

Min: I should be good then, I might have to leave early for Tennis practice though, so it’ll just be you and Richard for the last of the trip

Oh, that is absolutely fine with me, Andrew blushed and hugged his pillow tighter. Just perfect.

Andrew: More fun for us then! See you three then! Xoxo

He closed out of Snapchat and set his phone aside. Andrew took a moment to cover his face, imagining a different world where he and Richard could just be alone and happy. Nobody to please but each other, no responsibilities, and a life of solitude and luxury. Andrew nodded a little and sat up, getting out of bed and heading downstairs to put groceries away while mentally planning what to wear to James’s house that night.

Chapter Text

Andrew originally opted with a nice t-shirt, some black jeans, and a pair of black vans he scored for $15 at a second-hand shop. Pairing that with a nice gold-colored jacket and he looked like your classic high school bad boy.

Is he going to like this though? Andrew turned around in front of his mirror. He’s more… conservative. Maybe I shouldn’t dress so… flirtatious. He hates his brother, Homer, so I should try to look less gay to gain his trust and friendship. Andrew began undressing and thinking about other outfit options.

His second outfit choice was a hoodie, jeans, and converse he- once again- got for only $18 at a second-hand store. They were a little scuffed, but Andrew did his best to take care of them and keep them clean. This is closer to what James would like, Andrew told himself, I like this. Sure. Andrew grabbed his phone, wallet, a granola bar for the road, and walked to James’s address. He had texted him earlier for it, so it was saved on his phone. 

James didn’t live quite on the rich side of town that Andrew was familiar with, more in the suburbs with the middle-class soccer moms. Andrew almost felt weird walking through the area. It was like a miniature version of the rich private school life he remembered. He looked down at the clean sidewalk and sighed sadly. He hadn’t texted his old friends since arranging plans and he wondered if they were studying or having fun without him there.

We could still have study days together, I just wouldn’t be studying the same things anymore! He kicked a rock. Then again… I don’t think I would want to admit to them that I’m in classes like… space science and… college algebra. Lower classes like that. Damn public school placement testing!

Andrew wouldn’t have gotten far with higher classes anyway now that he was unable to sleep his way around to the top of the GPA charts. He knew that deep down- not that he would ever admit that. 

Andrew:   What’re you guys up to today anyways?

Richard: Shadowing business work with my father.

Hans: nothing

Min: I’m tutoring Hans on math and he won’t stay off his phone! >:(

Hans: phone good math bad

Min: You’re acting so bratty!

Andrew: Oh?

Richard: Did you mean to send that more privately? ;)

Min: WHAT

Hans:   ew

Andrew came up to James’s street. He looked for house #1488.

Min: HOW COULD YOU SAY SOMETHING SO DISGUSTING AND PERVERTED WE ARE NOT GAY WE ARE FRIENDS HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF I SAID THAT ABOUT YOU AND ANDY HUH?

Richard: Well I’d sure as hell react a little less than you are since I’d know those allegations are false.

Min: WE ARENT DATING

Richard: Never said you were. Just think you two are pretty close is all. Could just be a sex thing right?

Andrew had stopped paying attention to the Hans and Min allegation. He was too caught up in thinking about Richard and him studying together someday. Sitting nice and close to share a textbook, knees touching, the lights dimmed in Richard's study, meeting each other’s lustful gazes, quickly leaning into each other and locking lips, grabbing at shirts and belt buckles and-

He stumbled up onto James’s porch, falling face-first at his doorstep. His face landed on the scratchy welcome mat, and his sunglasses got bent beneath his weight. 

“Fuck!” Andrew quickly got up and took them off, examining the damage of a cracked lens and bent plastic. “Shit!” He stomped his foot.

The door swung open.

“That’s a silly way to ask to come in.” Homer teased in his usual feminine and mocking tone. He asked, “You okay, cutie pie?” He tilted his head to the side, eyeing Andrew up and down with a judging look.

Andrew brushed himself off. He grabbed his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. He huffed, “I’m just fine, thanks! Your stupid porch is- is dirty and so I slipped and-“ he looked inside the house, immediately seeing a table decorated with alcohol and snacks. A party?

His tone immediately switched as he asked politely, “May I come in, Homer? I’m sorry for the snapping, I’m just a little upset at breaking my sunglasses, that's all.”

Homer nodded and stepped aside. “Come on in. JAMES! YOUR BOY TOY IS HERE!” He shouted off in some other direction. Then he shut the door behind Andrew and walked back to the table, continuing to set things up.

Andrew asked, “Are you… doing something tonight?”

“A party,” Homer said. “Cheerleading squad, popular kids, anybody else I may have invited. Pretty much the whole school and everybody else.” He threw away some- now empty- bags of chips. “You’re staying for it right?”

Homer looked at Andrew. Andrew blinked.

“I’m invited?”

“Duh?”

“Oh, um…”

Andrew nodded quickly. “Yeah! Yeah of course.” He said, “I’d love to. Sounds cool.”

“Good, just don’t be a total dweeb, okay?” Homer walked over and ruffled his hair. “Shortie.” He noticed the lack of James in the room and huffed, “Upstairs. It's the last door on the left. Knock first or he’ll get pissed and call you a Jew or something.” He lightly patted Andrew’s arm before going back to setting up.

Andrew nodded before heading up the stairs.

It was your average middle-class American home. Family pictures on the walls, perfectly clean minimalist kitchen, and living room. There was a nice blue and white theme throughout the home. It didn’t change going up the stairs. Andrew followed Homer’s directions to the end of the hall.

The door was plain white and boring compared to the one next to it, which was covered in stickers, rainbow accessories, and drag queen posters. Homer’s room without a doubt. Andrew took a deep breath before knocking.

James was deep into a game of call of duty. It was an online game so he couldn’t pause, but he at least had the decency to shout, “It’s open, Andrew!”

Andrew stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He eyed James who was sitting on the edge of a gaming chair, eyes wide and fixated on the game in front of him. He understood that James was not ready to start hanging out quite yet, so he decided to look around the room instead.

It was a clean-cut room, everything having its place and organization. There was a desk with a closed laptop, some finished schoolwork, a lamp, a pencil cup filled with mechanical pencils, and one small pride flag that Andrew didn’t recognize. It was a red to dark grey ombre flag. He had a feeling it was a joke. Moving on past that was James’s dresser. It was sleek and black, presumably filled with clothes, and on top of it were a couple of picture frames. One was of him, Homer, and a woman he had never seen (their mother most likely), and another was of two young boys with their arms around each other. Continuing to move throughout the room, Andrew went ahead and sat on the bed, which was rather firm and boring just like the rest of the room. He noticed a bulletin board, but it was empty besides some college flyers and a weekly schedule.

After another minute of admiring the boring bedroom, James finally finished his game and took his headphones off. He sighed, “Thank you for not bothering me, it gets extremely annoying when Homer comes in and starts rambling while I’m playing. Do you play COD ?”

“Oh um…” Andrew nodded. “I don’t play it myself but I’ve played a few rounds when I’m with my friends.”

James seemed to scowl at that. He set his headphones over the TV before shutting the system off. Then he pushed himself in his gaming chair back to the desk. He faced Andrew. 

Andrew didn’t say anything and neither did James.

The door swung open and Homer came in. He asked, “Party is starting in approximately thirty minutes! I’m also starting up the hot tub outside so don’t forget your swimsuits! Unless you two are already getting hot and steamy up here?” He winked. James said nothing, just glared with a red face behind folded hands. When Homer got no reaction he continued, “Andrew- Can I call you Andy? Andy, please get my brother out of his shell and fuck his brains out? He needs it, the damn virgin.”

James opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it. He pointed to the door. 

Andrew stammered, “W-We’ll be down later.” Homer winked and skipped off downstairs, leaving the door wide open. James got up from his chair, marched to the door, and slammed it shut. He got a silver key from his pocket and locked the door. Andrew felt a shiver run down his spine.

He had dealt with white supremacist types like James back at the private school. They weren’t the worst, but they were the more sadistic and violent types. Andrew remembered long, sleepless nights with those kinds of boys. He hopes James wasn’t the same.

Does he… want to have sex? He doesn’t… right? But Homer… Andrew watched James go back to his chair and sit down, messing with the buttons on his shirt. Andrew wondered, Is he… gay? Closeted? He doesn’t seem the type.

James said, “My brother is a waste of space in this house.” It was an open-ended statement. He didn’t look up from what he was doing.

“O-Oh.” Andrew nodded. “Yeah, he’s… a little annoying I suppose. Is he your older brother? Same grade?”

James snapped, “Homer is my twin, unfortunately, though I like to believe he was switched with a doppelganger when we were in the hospital. He is in the junior year though because he was held back freshman year.” He got up and went to his desk, opening up a drawer and pulling out a file. “I have amazing grades.” James opened it up to show several past tests and quizzes, all marked with A’s and 100 percent at the top. Andrew nodded a little.

He’s… very insecure, isn’t he? Andrew watched James put the file away, shut the desk drawer, and then come back to sit on the bed next to Andrew. James said nothing. He pulled out his phone and checked Twitter. Andrew felt odd. He’s… not what I expected.

“Are we going down to the party later?” Andrew asked.

“Of course not! He isn’t supposed to be having parties without mother’s permission anyway. She’s gone for the weekend!”

“And… What about your dad?”

James’s eyes went dark as a sadistic grin crossed his face. He looked at Andrew, unblinking, and said, “My father is dead.” Andrew’s eyes went wide. He thought about bolting now, going home, and pretending he had never come over. Instead, he waited a few seconds for James to calm down, looking away and crossing his arms.

“My mother and step-dad are out on vacation together.” He said quietly. The pieces clicked and Andrew nodded, looking away.

“I understand. My-”

“No, you don’t. Let’s move on.”

“So… um…” Andrew looked at the weekly schedule and asked, “What do you like to do on weekends? I notice your little schedule is pretty full.” 

James perked up. He went to the bulletin board, gently unpinned the laminated schedule, and came back over. “I make my schedule for the week every Sunday and laminate it in the school library Monday morning. Keeps me focused and on task… This… wasn’t really on my schedule but I figured it might be nice to…” He shook his head and scoffed, “You just looked so pathetic standing there with your groceries. It was obvious you don’t have other plans anyway. Right?”

“Sure.” Andrew teased, “You definitely didn’t want to have a friend over to hang out. Sure. So what’s on your schedule this week?” James handed the list over. 

“Don’t bend it.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Monday:

School 8-3

Groceries 4-5

Dinner and Homework 5-8

Bed Time 8:30-9

Tuesday:

School 8-3

Dinner and Homework 4-6

Gaming 7-8

Bed Time 8:30-9

“Okay, hold on, so… You go to bed at 8:30?”
“Yes? Is there an issue?”

“That’s so early! You’re a teenage boy. Also, shouldn’t you have more time for friends here?”

“My dinner and homework time is flexible with gaming. If I finish homework in time then I can play the rest of the night. It just depends.”

Wednesday:

School 8-3

Choir Practice 4-7

Bed Time 8:30-9

Andrew blinked and reread it over and over again to process the information. He asked, “You’re… in the choir? Really?”

James nodded and explained, “Homer and I have been classically trained in choir since we were little. We used to sing in ch-... We used to sing as children and so mother started sending us to choir camps and clubs. Homer is in the chorus at school, I’m not because they’re all disgusting pieces of trash that I don’t associate with. Now I just do private lessons every Wednesday.”

“Do you do anything else?” Andrew double-checked other days on the schedule for any other hidden musical talents- guitar, drums, something useful to Andrew. 

James paused for a moment. He took the schedule and walked back to the bulletin board. He said, “I mean… I can play piano as well.”

“Piano?!” Andrew gasped, “There’s a whole side of you I never would have guessed existed! You play piano?!”

“Yes, I-” James huffed, “It’s not even a big deal- it’s a lot easier to learn anyway once you learn guitar first-” He stopped and stared at the ground with wide eyes. Andrew’s smile grew wider as he began bouncing on the bed. James mumbled, “No.”

“YOU PLAY GUITAR?!”

“NO.”

“YES!”

Andrew started rambling to James, asking him all sorts of questions about guitar and playing and what lessons were like and what he liked to play and how much lessons were and-

“-Wait! Do you have a guitar?” Andrew asked, “Oh that would be so cool!”

James, who had been sitting silently next to Andrew with his arms crossed for the last minute of Andrew’s rambling, blinked. He looked away and then looked back at Andrew. “Would that be… cool? If I had a guitar?” Andrew caught on to the low self-esteem in James’s voice. He knew it all too well from his own. He calmed down to match James’s tone and nodded. James looked around his room as if an answer to what he should do next would jump out. He looked out the window. Cars were starting to pull up for Homer’s party.

“Okay. Quickly. Follow.” James got up from the bed and led the way out of the room. Andrew followed along, going across the hall with him to a plain blue and grey-themed room. There was a master bed, two nightstands, a shared large dresser, and two large closets. James quickly walked to the closet on the right and started rummaging past dresses and skirts and fancy blouses.

Andrew leaned against the master bed. He asked, “Is this your parents- sorry- your mother’s room?” James did not reply and continued looking for… whatever it is he’s looking for. The guitar, probably, but why would it be tucked so far away in a closet? 

Oh because it’s hideous.

James pulled out a dust-covered wooden guitar, sporting out-of-tune strings and an old pick tucked in between them. He sat on the bed and balanced it on his lap. Andrew watched him begin tuning it. “How do you know the right notes for tuning?” Andrew asked, “Back when I had my guitar I could never understand the notes.”

“You had a guitar as well,” James remarked. Andrew nodded.

“My parents made me sell it,” Andrew remembered the glossy masterpiece he had scored at a pawn shop. He remembered being young, and stupid, and he remembered his mother needing money for the rent, and he remembered the several cases of beer that appeared in the kitchen just two days later. He grimaced at the memory and shook his head. “Said it was in the way of schooling.”

James gently strummed the strings now that they were in tune. He fiddled with his finger placement, trying to find the C chord. Once they were in the position he readied the pick and sat up straight. 

Homer swung the bedroom door open and asked, “Hey do you know where mom keeps the bottle… opener… Oh my God.” His hand fell from the doorknob as he stared at James with a shocked expression. James was seeing red, hands tightening on the guitar and knuckles turning white. Andrew prepared for the worst.

“You’re playing again?!” Homer gasped, “You’re playing again! OMG! This is insane! You have to come down to the party and play for us!” He clapped and jumped up and down. “James, you can play some songs for me and my friends and we can show them our cool harmonies and-”

“I wasn’t going to play!” James snapped, “And I hate singing with you!” He stood up, still holding the guitar tightly in one hand. “I hate playing guitar!”

Homer snapped, “James, come on, you already have it out! Just come down and play one little song? It’ll be so fun!” He grinned and teased, “I don’t know why you get such stage fright-”

“I don’t have stage fright!” James shouted back, stepping closer and getting in Homer’s face. “Have you considered that maybe I’m tired of constantly playing assistant to the Homer Show?! Huh?!”

There was a beat of silence between the two. Homer wiped some spit off his face and cringed. He said, “James, hun. You’re kinda overreacting.”

“No! Shut up! I’m so sick of you doing this all the time!”

“Doing what exactly?”

“Bothering me! Bothering my guests! I just want to have one god damn time where I bring somebody over, we hang out, and you don’t get involved with it! Is that so hard?!”

“Involved? James, it’s not my fault that you’re boring. You bore people. Come on.”

James screamed at him, “Just because I’m not some fucking faggot degenerate slut doesn’t mean I’m boring! I have plenty of fun interests! All you do is sleep around and fuck the football team, do you have room to talk?!”

Homer’s face went as red as James’s. He put his hands on his hips and huffed, “Stop trying to deflect from the fact that ever since the divorce you’ve been so-”

“Don’t talk about that!” James hissed.

“Don’t talk about what?” Homer asked, “The fact that you can’t get over yourself? That you can’t even pick up a guitar without thinking about Dad? And how he left us? That you’re so fucking insecure that you won’t even come down to a normal god damn party?”

“SHUT UP! I JUST HATE LIVING IN YOUR SHADOW BECAUSE YOU CAN SLEEP YOUR WAY THROUGH EVERYTHING! ” James screamed at him, eyes glassy and lips starting to tremble. “I DON’T FUCKING CARE ABOUT DAD, YOU CUNT! I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYBODY!” He looked between Homer and the guitar and huffed, “I DON’T EVEN CARE ABOUT THIS STUPID GUITAR!”

James threw the guitar at the nearby wall, letting it fall to the floor and clatter. Andrew looked away and winced when he heard a string break. He was still sitting on the bed, hands digging into his shirt. The yelling was reminding him of home. Andrew squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about Richard.

There was another moment of silence between Homer and James.

Homer tapped his foot and said, “You need to grow up. Andy, my party is starting downstairs. We have booze and pizza. James here isn’t invited until he learns to move on and get a pair of balls.” He stepped back and said, “Good luck explaining to mom how you broke the guitar by the way. You know. The only thing left of dad’s.”

Andrew uncovered his eyes and gasped at the guitar on the ground. The neck was snapped in the middle, and two of the strings were snapped and ruined. A beautiful piece of wooden work now ruined and shattered on the ground. He looked up at James and Homer. He couldn’t see James’s face, but the slightly shaking shoulders told him all he needed to know.

“I… hate you.” James choked out. “I hate you and I wish you were never even born. ”

“Choke on a sandpaper cock.” Homer said with a scoff. 

He finally turned and left the room.

Andrew looked at James, watched him sniffle, and pathetically wipe his eyes with his sleeve. James fixed the collar on his shirt and reached up to smooth his blonde hair back. After a couple of deep breaths James said, “I’m sorry that you had to sit through that. You can leave if you wish.” He quickly picked up the shattered guitar and scattered to his room, shutting the door. Andrew followed behind and didn’t hear a lock.

He looked between James’s room and the party downstairs.

On one hand, Homer’s party could help me be more popular. I could flaunt my fake money and maybe hook up with some people, get some more connections besides these outsiders I’ve been mingling with. Homer could probably become closer to me and allow me some “territory” to start raising my grades (and teachers’ cocks)...

But…  

Andrew gently pressed his ear to the door. He heard faint sniffling and the bed creaking. So he sighed and knocked softly on the door. When he received no response he let himself in anyways. The sun had just finished setting, so James’s room was near pitch black. Andrew made his way to the bed, where James was curled up on top of the blankets. He was facing the wall. Andrew sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I don’t need pity,” James said in a monotone voice. Andrew didn’t reply at first. He wasn’t sure how James felt about physical contact, but he was sure it wasn’t anything positive.

Andrew gently said, “I don’t care about your brother… You invited me over. Not him… And I think Call of Duty is cool… and your schedules… Okay?”

James sniffled. He nodded a little. He turned over and sat up. James hugged his knees and looked at Andrew with sad and tired eyes. “I’m sorry for yelling, I… I-I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes. “That was very childish of me.”

“That’s okay, James. There’s nothing wrong with needing to yell.” Andrew smiled and asked, “Do you… want to play Call of Duty? Or if there’s something else you enjoy we can do that.” After some thinking, James wordlessly went to his TV and grabbed two controllers after turning on his console. He came back over and handed Andrew one. 

“Yay! I have to warn you, I’m a very good shot, James.”

“I doubt it, but okay.”

“Oh, hush. I’ll show you.”

The party continued downstairs until two or three in the morning, while Andrew and James stayed upstairs playing video games even longer than that.

Chapter Text

By this point, well into the end of the first quarter, Andrew has gotten his work down to a science. He’s learned to balance school work, keeping up his image, and grocery shopping. He’s practically memorized the bus schedule to get to and from the grocery store in record time, without being seen by anybody that he knows.

The only thing that he hasn’t managed to get down is his schedule with his friends.

“I don’t understand, I thought you were all free this weekend?” Andrew asked, “Tests ended last week, right?”

“We’re starting the quarter one project,” Richard explained over the phone. They were in a group facetime call (except for Hans, who refused to turn his camera on). Richard continued, “It’s worth a good 20% of the grade and it’s due in just under two weeks. We’re all in a group together.”

Min chimed in, “It’s on-”

“I don’t care.” Andrew snapped, “So we aren’t hanging out today?” He glanced around the mall and then looked down at his feet. “Couldn’t you have given me a little notice?”

“It completely slipped my mind, Andy,” Richard admitted.

Min chimed in once again, “I assumed that Richard would tell you I guess.”

“I didn’t care,” Hans said.

It’s starting to seem like none of you care. Andrew kept that thought to himself. He said, “Okay, well, um… I’m going to… go home then. I don’t have any reason to be here. Thanks for ditching me for- what- the third time this month?”

“Now, Andy-”

“Bye.” Andrew hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket. He looked around the food court at all of the people going by before sighing and sitting down on a bench. 

It was the fourth time that they had ditched him or forgotten about him. It seemed his friends were always too busy to be hanging out with him nowadays, leaving him stranded. Andrew had hung out with James a few times, but he was such a homebody that he seemed to tolerate Andrew the less and less he came over. So Andrew decided maybe a break was needed. To give James some air.

Andrew got up and wandered around the mall with no intention of buying anything. He glanced into store windows, looking at expensive clothes and tech he would probably never be able to afford.

I’ve got to find something to do today besides looking depressed. I’m not an emo freak. Andrew passed by a music shop and sighed, hesitantly going in. He couldn’t stop thinking about James’s guitar and how close he had been to finally getting to have access to an instrument! 

The shop was brightly lit and filled to the brim with instruments and instructional books. He walked along the wall until he found the guitar displays. A bright gold one caught his eye and he hesitantly reached out to it. 

“You wanna pick one up?” A worker asked, “Test it out?” He was wearing sunglasses, a bright colored striped shirt, and a little name tag. Randy. He looked to be around Andrew’s age.

Andrew blinked. He nodded and mumbled out a yes. The worker came over and helped get it off the wall, carefully handing it to Andrew. Andrew mimicked what he had seen other people do when they played the guitar. He gave it a light strum. It was electric, so it didn’t make too much sound, and it was also severely out of tune.

“How long have you been playing? The worker asked, leaning on a wall.

Andrew admitted quietly, “I don’t own a guitar yet. Had one, parent’s sold it. But I’m eager to learn.” 

Randy explained, “Well, we have lessons here for $20 an hour, or you can buy a book for $15.99. Our guitars have the price listed on the tag there. This gold one is our newest addition to the store. It’s only $299.99.” He watched Andrew gulp at the price and gently hand the guitar back to him. Randy put it back on the shelf.

“Hey, I think I’ve seen you before.” Randy said, “You’re that new student at school, right? Cappy?”

Andrew sighed, “Yeah, that’s me. Andrew J. Cappy. Thank you for, uh, the guitar, um, I’ll mention it to my parents later.” He stood up and headed for the door before seeing a flyer on the wall. It had bright colors and caught his attention.

“What’s… this?” Andrew asked, tapping it and looking at Randy, who was fixing up a stack of lesson books.

Battle of the Bands!

May 12th, 2022

Cash Prize of $1000

The band must be two or more people, but no more than 7. Bring your own instruments. $10 admission to the concert, $10 per band to sign up. Auditions are January 5th, 2022.

Contact for more information: ...

$1000, Andrew thought with wonder, I could use that for anything I’ve ever wanted! I could buy a guitar or save up for college or buy a car or-

Randy looked over and smiled. “That’s the Battle of the Bands contest. It’s next year, but they like to get the word out early for people. You interested?” He got a sort of weird look in his eyes like Andrew was an enemy he had to be wary of. It made Andrew uncomfortable, and he hid his hands in his pockets.

“Well…” Andrew scoffed, “No. I don’t have a band. But I like going to concerts.” He got his phone out and snapped a picture of the flyer. “Thanks. Uh. Bye now.” Andrew quickly left the store and went for the exit of the mall. He glanced behind him to see Randy still watching him from the shop window. Andrew shivered and rolled his eyes. “Freak.”

“So today we’re going to be doing some light debating!” Mr. Guevara announced at the beginning of their Current Events class for the day. Andrew inwardly groaned and put his phone away to pay attention. The teacher continued, “I think we could start with some lighter content and then move on to some heavier topics. Would anybody like to start us off with a light topic?” 

The class was dead silent.

Andrew sat in the back so he could see everybody else in the class. Karl was near the front, his books and pencils all neatly lined up in front of him. James was also near the front, tapping his foot impatiently and picking at the dirt under his nails. Andy/Anne was doodling in a sketchbook with one earbud in. (Andrew was pretty sure qui was going by Anne today, but he couldn’t tell since qui was wearing jeans and a crop top but no makeup- and quis hair was pulled up in pigtails.) Homer also happened to be in the class, reapplying lip gloss in a small compact mirror while eyeing the teacher. Next to him was “Grug”, who Andrew had solely heard about from Angel a few times. Speaking of which, Angel was sitting with Nazbol on the other side of the room, barely paying attention and holding hands under the desks.

“... Alright. We’ll start with something simple.” Mr. Guevara proposed, “How about… The education system. Does anybody have any opinions on the education system?”

Andy/Anne and James raised their hands at the same time. The teacher smiled and said, “Yes, Anne?”

“Andy. I’m wearing blue bracelets.” Andy snapped, “I think that we need to revamp the entire education system considering it's been the same setup since the industrial revolution times- when school was specifically used to train people to work in factory lines. That’s why we use a bell system.”

“Okay… And how should we revamp that?” 

“Radical change and reform. We need to change the layout to fit the modern purpose of school- which is to educate and socialize students, get them prepared for how to critically think about decisions and stuff.”

James scoffed and raised his hands again. Mr. Guevara nodded to him.

James stated, “I think that the education system is just fine the way it always has been, and these acts of- what did you call it, Anne- Radical change? These acts of radical change are only going to make things worse. The school system teaches students and prepares them for college. That’s all it needs to do anyways.”

“Students spend a majority of time stuck here,” Andy argued, “And you think it just prepares them for college? The school is practically a second caretaker to students. Why do you think schools teach good behavior, social skills, even politics like the class we’re literally in right now!”

School systems are fine as they are. Sorta. Andrew thought to himself. What better than a system that prepares you for the work world? The only thing they should do is not make it so mandatory so that stars like me don’t have to suffer through it.

Andrew was getting bored of paying attention to them. It seemed Mr. Guevara was too. He asked, “How about we shift subjects a bit. What do we think about shootings in schools?”

“We need gun control.” Andy immediately said. “We need to have gun control and we need to-”

“What we need,” James interrupted, “Is to arm teachers. There’s nothing wrong with gun laws in America right now-”

“Nothing wrong?” Karl finally spoke up. “How can you even say that? Have you looked around the country recently?”

“Have you?” James asked, “You don’t even come from here, immigrant .”

“Woah!” Mr. Guevara laughed nervously, “Easy there, James. Easy, uh, Karl. How about we talk about something else. The economy? Is anybody interested in that?” James looked at Karl and waited. He watched Karl sit up straight, hands folded on his desk as he stared at the teacher.

Andrew sat up and, with some weird determination, stated, “The American capitalist system is just fine the way that it is. It’s been working for generations, and it keeps those that work hard on top and those that are lazy on the bottom, as it should be.”

“You’re kidding,” Andy mumbled. Karl shot Andrew a death glare. James had a smug smile.

Angel raised his hand, waited for approval from Mr. Guevara, and said, “In my opinion, capitalism is something that has existed for millennia in America now, and it’s not going away any time soon.” Just as James was about to grin with surprised delight, Angel continued, “We need to, therefore, eliminate those institutions that capitalism is baked into if we want to start over.”

“... Eliminate?” Mr. Guevara repeated.

With a devilish grin and tilted head, Angel replied, “Eliminate. With nuclear weaponry. So then there will be no trace of the capitalist society left.”

There was a moment of silence in the room, trying to comprehend how the fuck somebody could say such an odd statement. Finally, Andy spoke up.

“Okay, maybe not nuclear weapon annihilation, but we do need to tear down the institutions where capitalism thrives. Anarcho-communism is a good way to go, but the second you suggest something like that-” Andy pointed at James. “-The conservative Christians get all scared!”

“I’m not a Christian. Christians are spineless.” James corrected, “I have solid beliefs that don’t rely on some sort of fake higher power or God. So don’t compare me to a conservative Christian.”

Mr. Guevara lightly stated, “I’m religious, graduated from a religious school, so let’s ease up on those comments, okay, James? … Grug? Do you have anything you want to share?”

Grug was scribbling on the desk in the back. He blinked and looked up at Mr. Guevara with a sort of confused look. He stated simply, “Don’t like capitalism. The industrial revolution was… bad.” He went back to practically carving scribbles into the desk.

As Mr. Guevara was regretting his teaching degree, Karl finally stated, “I agree that Capitalism is the destruction of humanity. It is… a disgusting setup. It oppresses those that do not have the ability to succeed in it, such as the weak, disabled, poor, hungry. The people in charge of this devilish setup prioritize human life underneath net worth. Revolution is the only right solution, and I believe the time is right now.”

Andrew noticed that Andy was blushing as qui watched Karl explain his viewpoints. 

“However… Anarcho-communism… won’t work.” Karl stated. “It is…” he mumbled something in Russian before continuing. “You cannot run anything without some form of a leader or group.”

“The people are leading.” Andy interrupted, blush gone and replaced with confused rage. “You can’t possibly think communism can run under a state government, right? That’s ridiculous!”

“Anarcho-communism is ridiculous. It is practically an oxymoron. You cannot achieve any true communism with anarchy.”

“What? And what is true communism to you? Stalin?”

“Well… He was pretty close, but-”

“WHAT?!”

The class erupted into back and forth arguments while Mr. Guevara struggled to get the class under control. It took a few minutes of shouting, but finally, they quieted down to just glaring back and forth and shaking their heads. Andy looked beyond pissed, phone out and rapid-fire texting somebody about it- no doubt. James looked unamused. Karl was glancing over to Nazbol with a “ can you believe this? ” kind of look.

“Alright… Let’s tone it down a bit… Back to education systems. How about critical race theory in schools?” Mr. Guevara said as if that topic was anywhere even near toning the class down a notch. “Before you all start talking, how many think that it should be taught?”

Angel, Grug, Karl, Andy, and a few others.

“And who thinks it shouldn’t?”

James, Nazbol, Homer, Andrew, some others.

Andrew glanced around at the hands and realized that, at the front, one student hadn’t been participating in the classroom conversation at all. He was taking notes in his notebook, nodding along, but not talking or sharing his opinion. Next to him was, to Andrew's surprise, the worker from the music shop! Randy. What a freak.

Mr. Guevara noticed too. “Lee? What do you think?”

The boy, Lee, glanced up from his notebook and noticed everybody was now staring at him. He flushed with embarrassment and sank in his seat. “Um… I-I don’t… well… I think both sides raise fine points, you know? Teaching people about racism and why it’s bad is- is a good idea but… I mean, the point about race theory making people feel bad over their white heritage is… also a point?”

This was met with eye rolls and sighs from his classmates. 

“Centrist.” Andy hissed.

Lee looked down and returned to his notes while Mr. Guevara lightly scolded Andy for the insult.

This class gets more and more annoying by the second. Andrew thought, I mean, who cares about all of this identity politics crap anyway? Politics shouldn’t have anything to do with identity, it should be about state vs no state and hell vs capitalist utopia. Simple. He checked his phone under the desk. No texts or calls since being ditched over the weekend. Typical behavior at this point. He frowned and tucked his phone away.

Why don’t they text me… Should I just make the first move and text first? Ask what’s up? It wasn’t like Andrew hadn’t tried that strategy yet. They always gave him short answers (or no answers in Hans’s case). He got his phone out again, indecisive in what to do. Andrew stared at the Snapchat app logo.

He opened it up and texted Richard.

Andrew:   Hey

No reply. No left on read. No bitmoji pop-up. Andrew put his phone away again.

He glanced up again to notice that Andy and Karl had somewhat teamed up now, both reeling on James about his opinion of whether minorities deserved rights. It was comical, Karl sitting up straight and tidy but his hands clenched into fists on the desk and Andy hunched over quis desk, holding quis pencil as if it was a knife. Andrew made mental bets on how long it would be until Andy finally attempted to use it as one.

But the bell rang, so the bet was forgotten. Andrew picked up his things and left the class with the rest of the students. 

He noticed Andy walking a little behind and to the right of Karl, watching him walk like some freakish stalker in an early 2000s romantic teen comedy. Andrew rolled his eyes and pulled Andy back a bit. 

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Andrew asked in a quick, hushed tone. “You have a lot in common.”

Andy rolled quis eyes and pulled away from Andrew. “He’s a fucking Tankie, I wasn’t expecting a Tankie. I’m stopping here.” Qui pulled to the side and opened up quis locker. Andrew, not caring about if he was late to English, stopped too. “Communism is a real plus in a partner, but he’s a damn statist. Statists are so… Ugh.” Qui rubbed quis eyes and grabbed some books before slamming the locker shut.

“I understand completely: I’m an anarchist too, y’know.”

“Sure, sure. I gotta get to band class, but-”

“Wait! You’re in the band?”

Andrew had a big grin on his face as he remembered the Battle of the Bands poster and that sweet, sweet cash prize. Andy blinked and said, “Yeah, I play percussion. I really prefer bass, but they had too many percussionists so the teacher-”

“Do you own a bass?” Andrew interrupted, “Can you play well?”

Andy laughed a bit and tapped Andrew’s shoulder. “Andrew, you look like you just snorted a line of crack, calm down a bit. Yeah, I got a bass at home. Hannah has one too, but they rarely touch it. Why?”

Andrew cleared his throat and tried to look less shaky and deranged. He asked calmly, “Do you want to… have a jam session maybe? This weekend or… some time? I can sing, play guitar- I could even learn bass if you wanted to do that!” He looked at Andy with desperate, hopeful eyes and waited for a response. Andy was processing the idea of inviting a dirty capitalist into quis home.

Finally, when the late bell had rung, Andy groaned, “Fine! But you owe me for making me late to class, shit head. I’ll text you details, okay? I’ll find your Instagram.”

“Deal!” Andrew said, “CappyJ420, it’s an easy find!” Andy rolled quis eyes, smiled, and ran off to get to class.

Andrew stood in the hall and watched quem go for a moment. Wow, a real jam session… Wait, fuck, where am I gonna get an instrument for a jam session?!

“Hey!” Homer snapped from the other end of the hall. “Andrew, do you have a hall pass?!” He got out a bright pink whistle and blew it.

“FUCK- SHIT- I-I’M GOING!” Andrew bolted for his English III class, Homer hot on his tail and still blowing his whistle.

Chapter Text

“Alright, you ready?” Andy asked, plugging in quis guitar to an amp. “Do you have a guitar? Is it downstairs?”

Andrew was awkwardly sitting in Andy’s desk chair, picking at the fake gold paint on his ring. “Well… um…”

“Can I borrow the guitar?” Andrew asked, peeking over James’s textbook. They were in the library after school; James studying for a test and Andrew dicking around to avoid going home so soon. 

James seemed to tense but showed no change on his face. He slowly turned the page of his textbook and whispered, “What guitar?”

“You know which guitar!” Andrew groaned loudly, “Come on, I want to go have a jam session and-”

James shot across the table and covered Andrew’s mouth, yanking him forward and glaring at him. Andrew felt his face flush at how close they were. James had a tight hold of his collar. In the back of Andrew’s head, he wondered if James could feel how cheap the material of his button-up was. Could he see the tag? Andrew almost wanted him to at that moment. Just to test the waters.

“ You may… keep it. I don’t want to see it anymore anyways.” James whispered, “Now don’t mention this ever again. Is that clear? Nod for me.”

Andrew slowly nodded and James shoved him away. He fixed his sleeves, scoffed, and got back to work studying for his test. Andrew giggled and said, “Thanks, James!” He grabbed his stuff to leave.

“My house is unlocked… You can grab it from my closet.” James said reluctantly. “Tell Homer I’ll be home late, I’m going to the public library to keep studying.” He wrinkled his nose like he was disgusted at his plans for the day. Andrew considered the fact that if James was just another 100k richer, he might have already been friends with him back at the private school. Andrew didn’t like that thought much, so he quickly left for James’s house.

James’s acoustic guitar, which had been crudely fixed with duct tape and cheap, second-hand strings, was hidden in the bushes out of embarrassment.

“Nevermind, it’s whatever.” Andy shrugged. “We can use Anna’s spare. That sound good?” Andrew nodded and waited while Andy went to go find it. Once qui brought it back in qui handed it to Andrew. “Go ahead, it won’t bite.”

It was a standard acoustic, cookie-cutter design. Andrew missed the guitar he hid outside- with its beautiful flowery carvings and wood burned leaves. He gently strummed the acoustic. Andy winced and chuckled lightly. “Looks like they need to be tuned. I got a tuner on the desk if you wanna use that.”

Andrew looked over to the desk and frowned. The tuner was a small thing, he had never even seen one before now. It looked vague and confusing. Andrew cleared his throat and said, “Andy, um… I have to be honest.”

They looked at each other and Andy slowly smiled. Qui said, “It’s okay if you’ve never played. Do you just wanna sing instead? I can play.” 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t sing, it was just that Andrew had never sung in front of anybody before. He would sing in the shower when he was younger, but it only took one bad encounter with his drunk mother to ruin that. He still remembered how long she banged on the door, screaming at him to quiet down. Andrew would also sing back in private school when he was alone in the library studying or the car with Richard. He had a lot of good memories of singing in the car with Richard. Richard always had good taste in music.

“Um… sure.” Andrew nodded a little bit. “Um… I could… yeah. Can you… sing with me? I’m sorry I-I think my confidence was a lot higher before I actually came here.” Andrew admitted. “I can sing. I think.”

Andy nodded and said, “Hey, I totally get it. We can sing together. Though my voice is really shitty, I’m not lying. I’ve gotten voice complaints from the neighbors when Hannah and I jam.”

So Andrew sat up straight like he always saw Richard do when he was singing in the car, and Andy played a few notes on quis guitar to refresh quis memory. 

“Alright, Andrew, what should we sing?”

“What do you know?”

“Penelope Scott, Mother Mother, ICP, Lemon Demon… If you wanna get more mainstream for covers: Nirvana, Panic at the Disco… Uh…”

“I mean,” Andrew shrugged. “Those sound familiar.”

Andy frowned and tapped quis fingers on the guitar for a moment. Then qui got quis phone out and suggested, “How about I hit shuffle, and when a song comes up that we both know we can do that one. Okay?”

“Sure, yeah.” Andrew felt bad like he wasn’t doing enough for the jam session. Andy set the phone between them and hit shuffle.

A loud electronic song by Lemon Demon came on and Andy quickly hit next. “Not that one.” Another song played, Andy skipped that too. “Nope… no, oh god… no. No. No.” Andy continued to skip songs.

Andrew sighed, “Andy, I don’t care what your music choices are, we aren’t going to find a song in common if you keep-“ A few notes played that Andrew recognized. “Wait, go back!” He said, “That one!”

Andy went back and looked at the song, which started playing again from the beginning.

“Sex n’ Drugs by Abhi the Nomad?” Andy questioned. “I didn’t think you’d listen to that stuff.”

Andrew nodded excitedly and said, “I-I listened to it a couple of years back or so! I haven’t heard it in a while, but I liked it.”

“Cool, we’ll do that then. Let me look up the chord chart.”

“Can we um… Can we sing together first? I’m nervous.”

“Sure, yeah, yeah.”

Andy scooted closer so that they could both see the chord chart and lyrics on quis phone. Andrew blushed a little as their knees touched together.

“I’m gonna play the first couple chords as an intro, and then I’ll lead us in for the lyrics, ok?” Andy explained quietly as qui messed with the settings on the guitar and gave it another strum.

Andrew could feel butterflies in his stomach, and he couldn’t tell if they were from Andy or the idea of singing in front of somebody. Do I like quem? That would be… that would be weird. Qui isn’t… a boy though? I mean. Technically. Well… I thought I was gay. But qui… I mean, qui is obviously a guy, qui has guy parts and features… but… And I thought I liked Richard. He felt his heartache at the thought of Richard.

Luckily he was snapped out of his thoughts when Andy started playing the first chords of the song. It sounded pretty on Andy’s guitar, and the focused look in quis eyes was pretty cute. Andrew looked at the lyrics and tried to follow along.

“I need my sex n drugs.” Andy sang, looking at Andrew. Andrew blushed and quickly followed along, singing quietly. Qui grinned a bit when Andrew joined in, and they continued to sing the rest of the intro together. They moved on to the first verse.

“I-I want to be just like you,” Andrew stumbled over the words as he realized qui had stopped singing along when they hit the first verse, focusing only on playing the chords. Qui tapped the tempo against the carpeted floor with quis foot. “Smoke, drink, and have sex like you, th-think things never get them through so-“

“So don’t get it twisted,” Andy joined in again on that line.

Andy’s voice certainly wasn’t perfect, it was raspy and whiny, more fitting for punk and grunge genres and not a smooth pop sound like this. But something about singing with qui made Andrew feel all giddy inside, like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Born faceless, please save me,” Andrew closed his eyes and sat up. “My soul’s tainted, it’s how I’ve been born. I’ve worn patience, please save me, I’m more tasteful than ever before.”

Andy joined in and sang with him again on the chorus, “I need my sex n’ drugs, I need my money first-“ Andy fumbled on the chords and laughed a bit, forcing quis way through the song anyway, “Bless me with all my sins!”

Andrew watched Andy stand up from the bed, still nodding along to the beat and roughly strumming quis guitar. If it were any less sturdy Andrew was sure the damn thing would break. 

“Never seen so many people I didn’t like, never met so many women that weren’t my type-“

“Gay-“

“Never wanted to wash my hands from all the shakes. I've come to sleep with all the shadows ‘cause my sheets are full of shade now.”

“Ooh, look who’s stepping out of his comfort zone!” Andy teased when Andrew put some more runs into the notes. Andrew tried to pretend like he wasn’t blushing. 

Andy and Andrew continued to sing together, “I mean I always was the nice guy, I mean I always played the stooge, I guess I always kept the beast wide. I’m at war inside, surface I’m cucumber cool.”

Andrew sighed, “Geez singing takes a lot of energy!” He leaned back a bit on the bed and watched Andy play riffs on quis guitar.

“Trying playing. It’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, this C chord is really getting me today.”

Andy eventually went back to casual strumming and sat back down next to Andrew. Qui looked at him while playing. Qui smiled a little, and Andrew smiled back. Their knees were touching again.

“Thanks for uh… letting me come over. Sorry if I’m not that good.”

“Oh, please, your voice is great… it’s unique. Interesting sound.”

“You think so?”

Andy scooted a little closer and asked, “Is that your real voice? That sort of, like, posh almost British tone?”

“Y… Yes?” Andrew laughed a bit. Am I posh ? This cuck, I swear. “Yes. It’s my real voice.” He glanced down at Andy’s lips for a split second before looking back up. He licked his lips and said, “It’s my real voice.” This wasn’t true. Andrew exaggerated his voice every day in order to be the center of attention, not that he would admit that to anybody. Some things just had to stay unknown.

“Well, it’s pretty.” Andy gently moved the guitar aside.

Andrew stammered, “Did- did you want to sing any more songs? Or- or we could talk about school or… maybe um… we could uh-”

“Can I kiss you instead?”

“G-God, yes.”

Andrew quickly leaned in and kissed Andy. Andy was relaxed, gently moving one of quis hands up Andrew’s thigh. Andrew was rough and yearning, reaching a hand up to tangle it in Andy’s curls. Andy smiled a little into the kiss. Qui pulled away for breath, gently using quis free hand to move Andrew away a bit.

“You’re really eager,” Andy said quietly, “Chill. We got all the time in the world.”

Andy made it sound so easy. While qui talked, Andrew moved down to quis neck and started kissing there. He mumbled against quis skin, “I can’t help it, you’re so pretty.” It was partially true.

“Let me get my hoodie off, okay?” Andy pulled away and got up off the bed again, tugging off quis hoodie and tossing it aside. Andrew followed suit, shrugging his jacket off and struggling to get his belt off as well. He stood up and undressed with Andy, making out with quem any time their lips weren’t being blocked by clothes.

Qui put quis hands on Andrew’s waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Andrew shivered at the touches. He wasn’t used to somebody being so “nice” with his body. It almost disturbed him. He winced and asked, “Andy, can we be a little rougher than this?”

Andy raised a brow. “What? Like, how rough are we talking?”

“Like…” Andrew shrugged and said, “Less foreplay, skip to the sex. I guess. I-I’m just- I’m really hard at this point and…”

“Okay, okay.” Andy glanced down and smiled. “Alright, let me take care of that then.” Andy got on quis knees, ready to do whatever sinful acts qui desired, but suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“ Hey, Andy, you decent? Can I come in?”

Andrew jumped a bit at the knock at the door, and he rushed to get his belt fastened back on. Andy seemed a little surprised, but still calm overall. Qui sighed, “Hannah, no! Not right now! Bad time!”

“I wanted to let you know that the parents texted and said they’re gonna be home in… like… ten minutes?” Hannah said. They leaned against the door. “I’m sorry to spoil the fun.”

“Fuck…” Andy leaned quis head back and closed quis eyes. For a moment, nobody said anything. Andrew fiddled with his belt, still unsure on whether they were done or not. Andy sighed, “Okay. Thanks. You guys smoking in your room?”

“Yeah, I made weed brownies.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a minute, save me a plate. Save Andrew one too.”

Andrew blushed a little, thinking that Hannah was just discovering that he was even there. Andy seemed unphased by quis own mentioning of his name.

“Okay, sorry to interrupt, see you in a bit,” Hannah said. Andy waited for the heavy footsteps to fade before getting up and grabbing quis hoodie.

“Did- did you want to continue?” Andrew asked. “I can continue. Do you-”

“No, no, no.” Andy said quickly, “Forget it, I’m cool. Wasn’t too hard anyhow. It’s okay.” Andrew felt insulted at first before putting it together that qui was lying so Andrew didn’t feel bad. He sighed and finished getting dressed. Andy put quis hoodie back on and changed into sweat pants as opposed to the short skirt from before. “Hannah has weed brownies, you wanna go chill in there for a bit?”

“Sure, yeah.”

So, five minutes later, Andrew found himself on a large beanbag chair in Hannah’s room, which seemed to be their bed. He was sandwiched between Hannah and Andy, with a little paper plate and a fraction of a weed brownie in his hand. He had only had weed brownies maybe three other times, but Hannah gave clear direction on how much to eat and how to let it set in. Andrew took the opportunity to zone out.

Hannah’s room had bright pink LED lights, lots of band posters, and art supplies strewn about on every table surface available. There was also a speaker in the corner playing some sort of lofi music, which was easy to zone out to.

Andrew stayed like that for a few hours, pondering his rendezvous with Andy and the events of the jam session. Truthfully, Andrew had a lot of fun getting to sing one of his favorite songs. Even though he didn’t get to play an instrument, he still enjoyed himself. He didn’t think he could ever enjoy singing again after being snapped at by his mom. He wondered if Richard would ever want to have a jam session with him.

And on the subject of Richard… Andrew couldn’t help but think about the events directly after the jam session. He shifted a bit on the bean bag and curled up after setting the plate aside on the ground. He felt somebody put a hand on his back and gently rub it. Andrew was a little too out of it to know who, but he was thankful anyway. He couldn’t quite find the words to express that. 

I liked doing that with Andy... I hope that’s not the start of a crush, I really wouldn’t want to betray Richard like that. He remembered the way qui praised him. … That was nice… I wouldn’t mind my future partners being so generous… Yeah, right. Like anybody would talk to me like that again. Andrew closed his eyes and dozed off there just as the parents came home.

He ended up staying the night, and was woken up the next morning still in Hannah’s bean bag bed, curled up between them and Anna, who was playing Animal Crossing on her Nintendo Switch. Andy found him an hour later to walk him out.

“So… you don’t have any guitars or instruments?” Andy asked. “Even though you asked to have a jam session?”

Andrew suddenly remembered the guitar just as they left the front door. He sighed and admitted, “Okay, so… I-I do but… It’s… I hid it in the bushes because I was embarrassed. I don’t know how to play.” Andy stared in confusion as Andrew went over to the bushes in the corner of the yard and removed the guitar from its hiding place. It had a few leaves stuck in the strings but was otherwise unharmed.

A weird silence settled between the two. Andrew held up the guitar, nervously smiling and presenting it like it was a lost artifact of ancient history. Andy, on the other hand, stared at it like there was an ancient curse to go along with it. Quis face was blank.

“Where… did you get that guitar?” Andy asked, voice disturbingly even compared to quis usual erratic tone.

Andrew replied, “Well… uh… Ok. Honestly? I got it from James. He said he didn’t need it so I-”

“I think you should get going.” Andy snapped.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“That guitar belonged to a disgusting, vile, and disloyal human being. The fact that you brought it here? To me…? You should have kept that fucking thing in the bushes where you hid it.”

Andy said nothing more. Qui, now cold as a stone and glaring at Andrew, turned and went back into the house, slamming the door shut.

Andrew was standing on the walkway confused. He stared at the door as if Andy was going to come back out and reveal it was all a silly joke. Nothing happened within the next minute of him standing there. Andrew slowly looked at the guitar and then back at the house. There was something… oddly personal about Andy’s insults. It wasn’t the usual “- YOU RACIST CUNT!” type of tone. It felt… hurt. Disloyal…? Do Andy and James know each other more than I think?

He made a mental note of it before turning and beginning his walk to the bus stop.

Chapter Text

Andrew, dressed in the nicest clothes he could find, was sweating bullets as he followed Nazbol and Angel up to the front gate of the large Ommie property. 

“Karl has plenty of instruments that you can borrow for your little band activity.” Nazbol said, “I’m sure that he would not mind!” He held Angel’s hand and gently swung it  while they walked together. Andrew walked behind them and watched their hands go forward and back as they went past the gate and up to the house. His heart ached. He looked away.

The property was huge, covered in bright green grass, perfectly trimmed trees and bushes, and even a fountain to the side of the yard. Andrew was used to seeing beautiful rich properties like this, they were similar to Richard’s, Min’s, and Hans's. It felt different seeing it now that he was in public school. He could finally take a second to himself to be baffled at the expenses of it all. When Nazbol and Angel weren’t looking he stared at the beautifully paved sidewalk with wide and giddy eyes. 

Angel asked, “I-I-Is Karl home right n-now?” 

“Nope! Not at all!” Nazbol said cheerfully, “I actually never asked if we could come over, but I am sure he will not mind us going through his instruments anyway!”

Andrew and Angel stared at him with confused looks.

“So… he doesn’t know we are coming over at all?”

“Nope!”

“A-A-And so… we’re breaking and e-entering?”

“Да! That is correct!”

Nazbol opened the front door to the main entrance, which was decorated with white walls, marble floors, and light brown curtains over the tall windows. Everything was shiny and polished, illuminated by a crystal chandelier hanging above them. At the end of the main room were two sets of stairs leading to the second floor, as well as the third floor after that. Nazbol led the way up to the third floor, all the way to the back of the house. They passed by portraits of family members, expensive pottery, vases of flowers from all across the world, and finally got to a room at the end of the hallway. 

“This is Karl’s room!” Nazbol said, “But we will not be going in here, we will be going to this room here!” He went one room over to a marble patterned door with a gold doorknob.

He tried to open the door but it was unfortunately locked. Nazbol frowned. “Oh, dear.” He tried again and tapped his finger on his chin. “Odd. I did not know that he locked it. We will have to find a key of some sort to”

“NAZBOL!” 

The three turned around in shock at the end of the hallway. Karl stood there, fists clenched and wearing his usual ushanka and brown trench coat. 

Nazbol rushed out, heading towards him, “Karl, it is so good to see you! See I was just about to ask if we could borrow some-”

“You know how I feel about guests! Especially about kulaks like these two!” Karl growled, shoving past Nazbol. “Come here! Come here so I can strangle you!”

“RUN!” Nazbol shouted, grabbing Karl and holding him back. The two began to wrestle against each other. Andrew bolted out as fast as he could, Angel right behind him screaming with fear.

“Where are we gonna g-g-go!” Angel shrieked, following Andrew as he sprinted down the hallway and a staircase to the second floor.

Andrew shouted back, “I don’t know! I don’t know the layout! I don’t even-”

“GET BACK HERE!” Karl screamed at them, just on their tail. Nazbol was chasing Karl, but back a few feet a so and panting heavily. His nose was bleeding.

Without thinking, Angel hopped on the railing of the last staircase and slid down. He had a clear shot to the front door and took it, practically reaching out to the outside as he got out of the house and headed for the gate. Instead, Andrew had turned a corner, still on the second floor and being chased down by the raging Communist behind him. He saw Nazbol out of the corner of his eye go out after Angel, no doubt worrying endlessly about if his little angel was okay.

Andrew tried to take weird turns through the house to throw Karl off but failed. He felt his heart racing and throat beginning to hurt as he went up the stairs, back to the third floor, two steps at a time. This wasn’t a maze, it was a mansion. All he managed to do was confuse himself as he ended up in a dead-end hallway. He shrieked as Karl tried to swing at him. Andrew ducked, grabbed the nearest door, and practically threw himself inside. He slammed it shut as best as he could. Karl shoved himself against it, screaming at Andrew to let him in. While Karl banged on the door, Andrew’s eyes darted around the room and searched for solutions.

He grabbed a chair and shoved it under the doorknob, which managed to hold against Karl’s force somehow. Andrew stumbled back, panting and eyes beginning to tear up at the sheer panic of the situation. The room had no other doors besides the one that Karl was behind.

“WHEN I GET IN THERE I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU UNTIL YOUR ENTIRE FACE IS BLUE AS THE SKY!” Karl shouted, “DO YOU HEAR ME?! KULAK!” He then shouted something in Russian. Andrew stood frozen where he was- just a few feet from death- and waited for silence on the other end of the door.

When it finally arrived, Andrew slowly turned and examined the room he was in.

Karl’s room.

Andrew’s face went red with embarrassment.

I never even wanted to break into the damn house! Let alone lock me in the boy’s room! This entire situation is ridiculous. I’m going to kill Nazbol if I ever have the chance to see him again! Andrew sat on the ground, which was covered by a shag red rug. He tried to catch his breath and calm down.

The room had black walls with a general red theme about everything. Bed covers, pillows, chairs, doors, curtains- all a solid red tone throughout. There were a few grey items here and there, but it was clear Karl liked the color. Andrew noticed how messy the desk was, covered in old books and crumpled papers. It was a sheer opposite of James’s bedroom, which was owned and decorated by a neat freak. There was a black leather journal on Karl's desk with Karl’s name pressed into the side. 

I really shouldn’t be here. Andrew felt uncomfortable breaching privacy like this. It went against the few positive morals he possessed. He looked back at the bedroom door. Andrew crawled closer to it and checked underneath the door to see Karl’s old brown boots still standing there. So we’re playing the waiting game? Great.

Andrew crawled back to the desk and leaned against it. He tried to think about what to do. He glanced around the rooms for possible weapons to defend himself but found nothing useful. The only item he could attempt to use was the chairs, but those were bulky and wouldn’t work well. Can I get out the window? He got up and peered out, only to notice an odd detail that he had missed upon coming in.

On the outside of the window, past the curtains, glass, and screen, were metal bars. They were subtle against the black theme of the room, but you couldn’t miss them. Karl had bars on the outside of his window. 

“If you do not get out immediately I am going to call the police!” Karl threatened outside, stomping his foot. “I am serious! This is not funny and you are breaking and entering, even if Nazbol let you in!”

Shit, the cops. I can’t get arrested, that’s so bad for my image! Andrew frantically started looking through the desk drawers for something to aid in his escape plan- not that he had one. He found nothing but journals, papers, writing utensils, and some old sketchbook drawings.

“I am counting to ten and then I am calling the police!” Karl shouted. “Ten… Nine…”

DOUBLE SHIT. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, I CAN'T GO OUT THERE HE’S GOING TO KILL ME! 

“Eight… seven… six… five…”

Andrew looked around one last time before taking a deep breath and going to the door. He managed to squeak out, “Can- can we talk about this? I think this is a big misunderstanding that we can- we can discuss and then just laugh off! Right?”

“No! Four…” 

“Come on, there’s no need for that!”

“Three…”

“Karl, come on, you- you and I can be friends! Come on!”
“Two…”

“I mean I- I helped Nazbol didn’t I?”

There was a beat of silence. Andrew held his breath.

“Да… You did.”

“Yes! And- and you said you owe me, remember? So how about we talk this out and you don’t kill me or call the police! Please? Pretty please?”

“...”

Andrew moved the chair and opened the door. Karl stepped back and allowed Andrew to exit the room. Carefully, Andrew shut the bedroom door and looked up at Karl. He towered over Andrew in height and made Andrew feel a lot smaller than he was. For a moment, the two stared at each other without saying anything. Andrew was worried that the slightest breath would trigger Karl into a fighting mode once again.

“Karl! Don’t hurt Andrew, please!” Nazbol came sprinting down the hallway so fast that he almost stumbled into the two. Angel was in Nazbol’s arms, curled up and messing with Nazbol’s loose coat threads.

“I am not,” Karl said softly. He looked at Nazbol. Andrew realized that Nazbol was just an inch or two taller than Karl. He would have giggled and teased if this were a better time.

Nazbol sighed in relief. “Oh, thank goodness! I thought you were going to string him up outside! Did you two make up that quickly? Bravo!”

“I owe this kulak a favor, it slipped my memory in my unbridled rage,” Karl said. His voice was smooth and low like he was talking to a child after getting into a fight with their mother a minute before. Andrew knew that tone. He felt even more uncomfortable now, wiping his sweaty on his pants and wishing he could crawl out of his uncomfortable skin.

Angel asked, “C-C-Can Andrew and I leave s-safely, Mr. Ommie, sir?” Nazbol pulled Angel closer to his chest, frowning at the thought of having to split up for the day. Andrew was almost disgusted by it. He would have shown that disgust if he wasn’t friends with Angel.

“... What did you need here, Nazbol?”
“I wanted to show them the instruments you own… is that okay?”

“No. The room is locked, and I do not have the key.”

Nazbol cocked his head to the side like a confused dog. “Why?” He asked.

Karl grimaced. Andrew recognized that look too.

“Did your parents lock it?” Andrew butted in. “Is that it?” He shrunk down as Karl directed his attention to Andrew, now glaring at him with the power of a thousand suns.

He hissed, “Not that it is any of your concern, but, Да. They locked the room off until I start focusing on my duties to the heir of the family fortune, as they called it!” He turned back to Nazbol, glare immediately disappearing. “We cannot get in if we don’t have the key.”

“What if we l-lockpick the door?” Angel suggested with an evil grin. “I have experience in s-s-such activities.”

Karl thought about it for a second, staring at the ceiling, before shaking his head. “No. My parents will see the door is unlocked and will be angry with me… I am sorry, you will have to come back another time for the instruments… What did you need them for?”

“It- It’s nothing.” Andrew said quickly, “Nothing at all just some curiosity and-”

“Andrew is starting a band!”

“Y-y-yeah! And we’re going to be r-roadies and help manage the s-set and lightings and s-s-stuff!”
“Да! And he needs instruments so I thought we could use yours!”

Andrew’s face was red with a mix of anger and embarrassment at the lack of nuance his public school friends had. At least my old friends knew when to keep their mouths shut. Karl looked at Andrew.

“A band? What kind?” 

“Just a… garage band sort of thing. Electric guitars, millions of fans, a show every night. It’s not something for the likes of you, Red.”

Karl immediately said, “I want to be in your band.” He then got confused as he registered the new nickname Andrew gave him. 

“What?” Andrew scoffed, “No! You can not join my band! That’s preposterous!”

Nazbol and Angel were quiet, staring at Andrew or Karl and waiting for the next development. Andrew glared up at Karl with tightly crossed arms while Karl looked suspiciously calm. His raging storm was over, now a calm sea with a breeze. Karl shrugged.

He said, “I will provide instruments, a place to practice. I just ask that I get to play either the drums or the bass in your band. Oh, and all members of the band, roadies, and band manager will be paid fairly. We will need to make a contract which will be signed by all members of the event.”

“A contract ?” Andrew huffed, “Do you hear yourself? No! No to all of this!”

Angel whispered, “A-A-Andrew, he’s offering a lot to the band’s future, I mean, free instruments and amps?”

“I’m not letting some- some weird Russian freak join our band!” Andrew snapped. “No offense to Nazbol, but Karl is a rage-addict with murderous intent!”

Karl said, “I apologize for scaring you and chasing you throughout my home that you broke into. My parents do not like uninvited, unscheduled guests. If they come home and see you all here and me not doing my studies, they will be very angry with me.” He looked at the watch on his wrist. “We also need to conclude this argument soon. They will be home soon. Five minutes approximately.”

“Andrew, p-please.” Angel insisted. “This will be good for us! For our cause. The band. Please? Pretty please?”

As much as Andrew didn’t want to admit it, Karl would be the perfect addition to the band. Free instruments, amps, a place to potentially practice? It was perfect. Not to mention, every good band has that one mysterious hot guy with an accent. Chicks love that shit. We’d be even more popular- fanbase-wise.

“Fine,” Andrew said with an eye roll. “Fine. You may join the band, I guess. If you want to. But you better be prepared to uphold your end of the bargain. And that instrument room needs to be unlocked soon if we want to get started, so you better focus on you- what did you call it- you stupid heir to the throne bullshit.” He put a hand out for Karl to shake. “Do we have a deal?”

Karl nodded and firmly shook Andrew’s hand, giving it a harsh squeeze that made Andrew wince. “Deal.” He smiled, “But I will still need an official contract to be made promising that all members will be paid equally and get the equal benefit of the band.”

“Whatever, whatever.” Andrew scoffed. “How about you make the contract and I’ll proofread it and sign? Okay?”

“Whatever.” Karl mimicked slowly. It was a new word to him. “Now all of you get out immediately before I chase you down again. This time with weapons.”

When Andrew got home he tried to immediately go to his room but was met with an unusual event. Dad was gone for the night, and mom was wide awake in the living room watching TV. Usually, by this time, she was passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of wine on the floor. He could see her from behind the couch where he stood at the backdoor. The TV was loud enough that she hadn’t heard him yet. 

If I’m careful, I can make it to my room or at least to the bathroom to lock myself in there for the night. Andrew shut the backdoor as quietly as he could and began walking along the wall, where the floorboards didn’t creak, to get to safety. The hallway to his room was at the edge of the couch’s peripheral vision, he knew that from years of experience. If he was slow and steady, his mom wouldn’t be able to pick him up in her drunken state.

After a minute of steadily progressing through to the hallway, she got up for whatever reason. Andrew didn’t know why God hated him and cursed him to get caught. She immediately spotted Andrew and groaned.

“Oh, look who’s finally home! It’s you!” She huffed, voice hoarse from years of smoking against her husband’s wishes. Andrew stayed where he was standing. Sudden movements would make her angry. He waited, unsure if he should answer or not. His mother continued to shout, “And where were you all night, you fucking whore? Out fucking more teachers? Out ruining your god damn life to end up like me and your dad?! Huh?! What?!” She stumbled to him. “Answer me, Andrew! Come on!”

Andrew stammered out, “I was with friends, mom.”

“Friends?!” She let out a terrible, shriek-like laugh. Andrew cringed. He glanced to the hallway. Too far. Can’t run faster than her. The bathroom is behind me but I would have to turn my back to her, putting me at disadvantage, and I can’t block the door with anything, only lock it. Can she unlock the doors like this? She has before. How much did she drink today? Where the fuck is dad?

“Don’t you fucking ignore me, Andrew!” She suddenly smacked him, and Andrew bolted off without another thought. He shoved past her, down the hall, and she was right on his tail, clawing and grabbing at the air behind him to drag him back.

She continued screaming, following him to his room where he slammed the door shut, locked it, and grabbed his chair. He shoved it under the doorknob, just like early that day, and stumbled back. Unlike Karl’s room, he had a weapon hidden. A knife from the kitchen, taped under his desk (next to an envelope of cash for emergencies). He grabbed it and held it in his teeth as he moved his desk and part of his bed in front of the door too.

Andrew felt his throat burning again, still stinging from the panting earlier that day. He had never been athletic at all. Once everything was blocking the door and his still-screaming mother was locked out properly, he stood back and watched the door. The knife, silver and shining from the light outside the window, was firmly held in one hand while the other was shaking at his side. Andrew stood frozen where he was- just a few feet from death- and waited for silence on the other end of his door.

It never arrived. She stayed there until Andrew’s father came home hours later.

Chapter Text

Bread

Eggs

Milk

Water

Vegetable Oil

Coffee

Andrew walked through the grocery store aisles, coupons in one hand and his shopping list in the other as he pushed the cart. He was shopping alone today, Richard didn’t even answer his texts that morning and Andrew wasn’t in the mood to wait around. He set the list down and checked his texts again.

Andrew: Hey I have to get groceries you wanna come with?

Read 8:24 a.m.

Something weird is going on. Andrew thought to himself. Richard always answers me. He doesn’t just leave me on read and… whatever. Eggs. Where are eggs?  

He didn’t even like grocery shopping (especially not at 9 in the morning), but his parents were always too busy or drunk to do it themselves. Andrew needed to eat. So the groceries were his job. At least dad actually left money for me this time. Father of the year award there. Yippee.

“This is only 90 cents off, who do they take me for?” Andrew mumbled to himself. He looked through the shelves of eggs before settling on the cheapest brand. He stood back up and looked around to find the next item on the list.

“Milk, milk, milk,” Andrew repeated under his breath. He yawned and shook his head. “Jesus.” This was not how Andrew imagined his Saturday morning going. He had to finish groceries, get home before his mom woke up, get started on homework due on Monday, finish a load or two of laundry for school, go find replacement sunglasses at goodwill if he has time-

Andrew turned a corner, saw a familiar head of blonde hair, and quickly whipped back around the corner and hid behind a display of canned goods. His heart began to race.

James? At 9 in the morning at the grocery store? I’m not even dressed nice, these are practically pajamas! I thought only old people would be out right now! 

His main goal switched from finding his groceries to checking out and leaving as fast as possible. James couldn’t see him like this, it would be so embarrassing! He’s wearing jeans from Wal-Mart , for crying out loud! Andrew peaked around the corner again, but the blonde hair was gone. Horrified, Andrew quickly made his way around to the checkout on the other side of the store. He pushed past other customers, apologizing under his breath for anybody he cut off or bumped into.

“Gotta go, gotta go,” He mumbled, “Please, please, please, please.” He made it to the checkout, sweating as he practically threw his groceries onto the conveyer belt. Andrew glanced behind himself, scanning the store for James’s face or hair.

“Find everything okay today?”

“Fine, yeah, can you hurry up? I’m in a rush please.”

“Sure, uhuh.”

Andrew tapped his foot, impatient. What is taking so long? He could spot me any second! I can’t let him find out, I can’t!

“So there’s an issue with our credit card readers today so I just need to manually put in the information, I’m sorry.” The cashier apologized, putting his hand out.

“God, you’re incompetent!” Andrew huffed, digging around in his wallet for his link card. He glanced around one last time before shoving it into the cashier’s hand. “There! Now can you- you…”

Homer blinked, still forcing a smile for the purpose of customer service. He looked down at the link card and then back up at Andrew, who was now pale as a ghost. Andrew slowly pulled away, leaving the link card in Homer’s hand. He didn’t break eye contact as he gulped and mumbled in a meek voice, “Please…” Homer nodded a little and finished the purchase. Once the groceries were bagged he handed the link card back to Andrew.
 

“Lauren, I’m going on break real quick!” Homer called, “Yeah, I’ll be back in a second, just come get me if it’s important.” He followed Andrew out, who now kept his eyes on the ground as he shuffled out of the store and around the corner to where nobody would see them. Homer got out a little pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“So,” Homer sighed, “Where did you even get a link card? Like, who did you even steal that from?” Andrew didn’t reply. He stared at the sidewalk. Homer barely waited for a reply before continuing, “And, like, if you want me to not tell anybody that you literally took some poor kid’s link card, then I wanna use it too. Does it work on alcohol? Or no. What does a link card even work on?” Andrew once again didn’t reply. He shoved his hands in his pockets after setting his groceries down on the ground. All he wanted was for this conversation to end so he could go home, curl up in a ball, and rot.

Homer stared at Andrew. He gestured for him to respond and sighed, “Hello? You there, Andrew?”

Andrew snapped, “It’s mine .”

“What? Come on, no way.” Homer laughed. “What do you need a link card for, you’re rich?”

Suddenly, Andrew shoved Homer and shouted, “You fucking airhead! Are you fucking stupid?! I need it because I don’t-” He remembered they were in public and covered his face, screaming into his hands to get the energy out. Andrew paced for a second before grabbing Homer once again and pulling him close. Andrew finally hissed, “I don’t have any money. I have a link card because I’m a fucking poor person. Okay? Do you get that?”

Homer shoved Andrew back and snapped, “Jesus, yeah, I get it, you fucking gremlin.” He fixed his shirt and then combed his hair back with his fingers. “Fucking… ugh.” He rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, anyways, if you’re done being a drama queen, let’s talk about it like adults. Can you do that? Or are you gonna keep being a baby?”

“... What can I do for you to not tell anybody?” Andrew asked, glancing around. He watched Homer light and start smoking a cigarette. 

“Hm.” Homer nodded his head, thought about it, and stared at the sky while he smoked. He leaned on the wall of the store. “Well… I don’t know right now. Hm. Okay. I don’t really know what to do right now, but, like, maybe uh… Hm.” Andrew tapped his foot impatiently. He was trying so hard not to cry. 

Homer gasped and said, “Oh! Okay, how about this? For now, I promise I won’t tell anybody that you’re secretly poor. For now . Until I come up with something I want from you, you’re off the hook. Nothing to worry about, okay?” 

This is so fucking unfair, what have I even done to fucking deserve this?  “Sounds great,” Andrew said through gritted teeth. Homer giggled and patted his head while he put his cigarette out.

“Great! I’ll see you around school, okay? Byeeeeee!” Homer fixed his polo before heading back into the store. Andrew, shaking with adrenaline and fear, picked up his grocery bags and went towards the bus stop.

When he got home he set the groceries down in the kitchen and did not put them away. He went straight to his room, slammed the door, and screamed. He screamed until his throat burned, screamed until he was sobbing and his eyes were red and puffy, and screamed until he couldn’t get another noise out without wincing in pain. Andrew threw his things around, punched and kicked the wall, and finally collapsed to the floor, sobbing and curled up in a ball. He pulled at his hair, sobbing and wheezing into his carpeted floor.

“IT’S NOT FAIR!” He screamed to the empty room. “I HATE THIS! I HATE- I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS! IT’S NOT FAIR! I HATE THIS FUCKING SCHOOL SO MUCH!” He sobbed and started hitting the floor. “I WANT TO GO BACK TO MY REAL FRIENDS! I HATE IT HERE! I HATE MOM AND THIS WHOLE FUCKING CITY! THIS! ISN’T! FAIR!”

He couldn’t do anything after that. Andrew let his body go limp on the floor, he let himself sob until he ran out of tears. He didn’t know how long he had lied on the ground like that, quietly sobbing, but he knew the sun went down and his dad came home from work. It had to have been six by then.

I need to move… I’m hungry… Andrew opened his eyes and squinted, trying to see the alarm clock on his dresser from his spot on the floor. … Maybe I can go to James’s… Did Homer tell James? 

Wincing, Andrew sat up and rubbed his eyes. He sniffled and got up, shuffling to the desk and finding his phone. It was cracked now since he threw it against the wall during his tantrum. Andrew checked his notifications.

Richard: Sorry, Andy, I was a bit busy today. Family stuff.

Andrew didn’t want to reply right now. He set an alarm to remind himself to do so later, once he had calmed down more. Because I actually care about responding to people trying to text me! He went to his messages with James.

Andrew: Want to hang out?

James: Yes. Come over. Be quiet though, my mother is sleeping in her room.

Andrew: Sure, yeah, I’ll be over soon.

The quiet sounds nice actually. I won’t have to worry about my voice sounding hoarse then. Andrew changed into some more expensive clothes (though he was worried it wasn’t going to matter) and went to the bathroom to make sure he didn’t look too obviously upset. 

His face was red and puffy and he still had tear stains going down his face. He went back to his room, found the darkest pair of sunglasses he could, and then went downstairs to leave. “Going out! I’ll be back late!” He called before leaving the house.

Andrew was starting to really enjoy the walk from his house to James’s. Something about the corners and road signs becoming familiar made him feel a bit better about the day. Either that or it was just the fact that he was getting away from his own hell to go to James’s instead. It was easier to sit through James’s emotional damage than his own. He didn’t have to deal with it after all.

“You took down your calendar,” Andrew noted. He was sitting on James’s bed, waiting for him to finish up his Call of Duty zombies match. James didn’t reply, but his quick glance to the bulletin board proved that he at least heard him, which was a start. Andrew continued to muse out loud, “Are you getting a new one? Or just reorganizing? Rearranging your room? You could stand to rearrange your room, it would look nice I think.”

James moved his mic away from his mouth and said, “Reorganizing, shut up.” He then moved the mic back to his mouth and started snapping something about somebody camping or hacking or some other video game term that Andrew was unfamiliar with.

Reluctantly, Andrew stayed quiet until James finished his match. After a minute or two, James sucked in a deep breath, face red, before lightly setting the controller down on the dresser and scooting away from it in his gaming chair. He let out a long sigh and covered his face.

“Bad time?” Andrew asked. He got his phone out to scroll Twitter while James stood up from his chair and began to scream.

He waited for the tantrum to subside. James’s fits were never too violent, just a lot of yelling and thrashing as if he were being attacked by bees. It was nothing compared to what Andrew had seen from other people in his life.

Once James was done, now holding a pillow to his face and panting heavily, Andrew asked gently, “Can you tell me about the calendar.”

James pulled the pillow down and hugged it tightly. “I’m rearranging my room. I want to move my furniture so I have more room for video games and I want to get rid of a lot of stuff.” He pointed to the cardboard box next to the bed.

“Ooh, what’s in here?” Asked Andrew, never one to pass up free stuff. James reached his hand out and opened his mouth, as if to stop him, but then pulled back and closed it. He turned away and began to pace.

Andrew opened up the cardboard box and looked around. It mostly consisted of old papers and notebooks, some broken items and old phone cords that didn’t work anymore, and other useless items.

He got to the bottom and stopped. The mini pride flag from James’s desk, along with the picture frame that was once on his dresser, and finally a dark blue photo album with family photos written across the front in gold cursive embroidery.

“So… I meant to ask before.” Andrew picked up the tiny pride flag. “What is this and why on earth would you have it?”

James immediately snapped, “It’s a gag gift, so don’t think for one second that I’m one of those freaks. I don’t even know what the pride flag is for!” 

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Andrew teased, “Touchy subject.” He looked at the rest of the items as if the rest of the box was not also filled with touchy subjects that he was going to bring up anyway. He moved on to the picture frame on his dresser. “So who’s next to you in this? Homer?” 

Both of the boys in the photo were eleven or twelve- definitely young- and were holding hands and smiling nice and wide for the picture. The boy on the left was clearly James with his blonde hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a blue t-shirt, some dirty shorts, and a ball cap that said Oak Fire Campgrounds on it. To the right was a boy covered in scrapes, bandaids, and dirty stains. The kid had dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and was missing a tooth. 

It took Andrew a second to stare into the green eyes and crooked grin before it clicked. He asked quietly, “James, I meant to ask… What happened between you and Andy?”

James winced and looked away, immediately crossing his arms. “Nothing. We hate each other. He’s a faggot and I have standards. Simple.” 

It didn’t seem simple. They were happy in the picture together, holding hands and grinning in front of what looked like a summer camp of some kind. Andrew was confused more than anything. He searched the photo for more answers but found nothing. 

“Well, I mean, it’s clear you were friends… I talked to Andy the other day and-”

“What did that rodent tell you, huh?!”

“Jesus, nothing, James. I mentioned you and qui immediately shut me down. Called you disloyal.”

James’s eyes widened and his face got bright red. Andrew immediately regretted saying that and sighed, “James-”

“Disloyal?! Really?! I’m the one that’s disloyal?!” James threw the pillow he was holding at the bed and began to rant. “I am not disloyal! That freak is the one that had to ruin everything we had! Had to- to be weird and- Ah! Oh, my God, that fucking cunt!” James continued to scream cuss words until he finally punched the wall. He yelped in pain and held his fist to his chest, curling up and slowly moving to the floor.

Andrew watched carefully, waiting for James to stop yelling. He gently set the picture down and scooted over to him on the floor. He glanced at the slight indent in the wall before looking back at James and asking quietly, “What can I do for you?”

“Ice pack.” James snapped through gritted teeth. “Towel.”

With a slight nod, Andrew got up and left the room, heading downstairs to the kitchen to get an ice pack. He got a Ziploc bag, filled it with ice, wrapped in a small towel, and came back up to James’s room. James had moved to the bed, now examining the small amount of blood coming from the cuts on his knuckles. His face was no longer red, and he looked shockingly calm despite the outburst only a minute before. Andrew came and sat down next to him, handing him the ice pack.

“What the fuck is this? We have actual ice packs in the bathroom, why did you-”

“Shut up. This is how I do ice packs. How was I supposed to know you had actual ones, huh?”

“Do you not?”

Andrew snapped, “No, James, I don’t usually punch holes in my fucking walls.”

James glared at him, looked like he wanted to say something mean too, but remained silent. Andrew recognized the intimidation tactic and didn’t say anything either. They stared at each other, waiting for somebody to make a move.

Finally, Andrew said, “Use your words and tell me if you want me to leave.”

Still, James said nothing. So Andrew took that as permission to stay. He leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. James slowly looked away before following suit. He stared at the slow-moving ceiling fan, holding his fist in the bundle of ice and towel. They didn’t speak. They listened to each other’s breathing.

Andrew watched the fan go another couple of rotations before asking, “What happened?”

James tightened his grip on the ice pack. He closed his eyes and quietly replied, “It was that summer before seventh grade. We went to summer camp together, just like we did every year before.”

“Come on! Come on!” James huffed, “We have to hurry to get the best cabin! Come on!” He tugged on Andy’s arm while Andy tried to grab his bag from the back of the bus. 

“Okay, okay, okay, let’s go!” Andy ran with James into the campgrounds and to the nearest cabin building, where they went straight to the back room and began testing the bunk beds for comfort.

James took the bottom bunk and let Andy have the top, just like he always did. Andy started unpacking his clothes for the summer. 

“Wait, I’m confused, it sounds like you guys were great friends. What could have possibly happened that split you guys up?” Andrew interrupted. 

James snapped, “Let me finish. Andy ruined everything, now stop interrupting…it was the last week of camp. It was a tradition at the camp to play a late-night hide and seek game. Andy and I always teamed up to find hiding spots. This year, we found a spot near the river in a sort of cave. Not anything deep, just a little empty indent hidden in the hill.”

“Here, here, here!” James whispered, getting into the den and crouching down. Andy pulled his hood up and crouched down next to James.

Andy whispered, “This has gotta be the best spot ever! No way in hell they’ll find us!” James grinned and got excited at the mild cussing. It seemed so cool at the time. James shushed him and listened for any footsteps or laughing from other campers.

Andy heard an owl and jumped a bit, scooting closer to James. James snickered and teased, “It’s just a bird, come on. We’re safe, this is the best spot in the woods. No way they’ll find us.”

“Okay, okay.” Andy glanced around before whispering, “Hey, are you gonna come again next year? After seventh grade?”

“After seventh grade… Maybe.” James said, “Why?”

“Well… we’re getting older. There aren’t many eighth-graders at the camp, y’know? I just wasn’t sure if you were gonna keep going.” Andy said.

James didn’t want to think about growing up. He looked away and thought about church, his mom, having to take care of her now that dad was… gone. He sighed and said, “I don’t know. Will you keep going?”

“Of course! This is the most fun I have had all year. Better than the orphanage.”

“Right.”

Andy started picking at some dirt on his shoes while James stared at the moon reflecting on the river. His stomach churned at the thought of his father, who just up and left one day, taking his mother’s happiness and loving tone with him. His father, who was supposed to be the supporting backbone of the family and instead left, leaving the job to either his overworked wife, his feminine, degenerate son, or James. James, who began to despise all of the things his dad had cared about: open-mindedness, equality, fairness, activism. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Andy asked. He gently touched James’s arm, who flinched away.

“I’m fine.” James snapped. Suddenly the idea of caring for Andy, somebody that was poor and obviously not a normal kid, was disgusting to James. Suddenly his friendship with Andy was being questioned in the back of his mind, and he wasn’t sure if it was something he wanted to keep around. He tried to get a relationship with his father, and look what happened there. Up and left, broke his poor ten-year-old heart. What was going to stop Andy from doing the same?

Andy frowned and took James’s hand. “I’m here if you wanna talk, James. Really. Are you okay?”

I won’t let him do the same, why would I? If he’s going to leave me just like him then why should I stick around?!

James looked at Andy. Andy’s soft eyes, his stupid concerned face. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, it all made him so angry. James yanked his hand away and whisper-shouted, “I’m fine . What is wrong with you? Why are you touching me?”

“Well-” Andy struggled to find words. “Well I- I just wanted to make sure you were okay, James. I’m sorry… And… and, well, I was holding your hand because… because I like you.”

There was no going back after that. James scrambled back and out of the den. “What do you mean you like me?!”

Andy panicked and got out of the den, covering James’s mouth. “Shhh! Not so loud! Please! I-I just- I’m sorry- I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while and-”

“You- You what?! Like boys?!” James shouted back, wrenching away from Andy’s grip and stumbling back. . “That’s-” 

“I-I’m sorry, James, please, forget I said anything about it!” Andy said. James could see him tearing up in the light of the moon. James clenched his tiny seventh-grade fists and reeled back at him with a fiery tone.

James argued, “Forget it?! How can I forget it?! You’re- You’re soft and- and gay ! Just like my stupid brother?! What the hell! What is wrong with you, you- you queer!”

The word shocked both of them. James had never used such language, he had heard it from his brother when he talked about the bullies at school, but he had never thought to use it too. Andy started to cry more, sobbing and shaking a bit where he stood.

“I- I’m telling the counselor!” Andy sobbed, “And- and I don’t want to share bunk beds with you any- anymore!”

“Fine!” James shouted, “I don’t wanna share a bed with some- some freak like you anyways! Rot in hell, Andy!”

“Woah, woah, woah! What’s going on over here, boys?”

Andy and James turned to look over at the hill, where a camp counselor stood with a flashlight and a concerned smile. Andy sobbed and ran to him, hugging him tight and crying into his shirt. He tried to explain what happened, but all he could get out were muffled sobs and hiccups. James glared at the counselor, fists still clenched and eyes darkened with rage. The counselor sighed.

“Okay, kids, let’s head back to the campgrounds, okay? We’ll talk about this at the main office. Come on, James.” The counselor said.

James followed a couple of feet behind, glaring at the back of Andy’s head. 

“He was- He is just like my brother, a stupid faggot trying to corrupt me and ruin my life,” James growled out, gripping the ice pack to the point that his knuckles were white. “And I wasn’t going to let another fucking emotional degenerate ruin my god damn life.”

Andrew stared at James, who was glaring at the ceiling and trying to look tough. But past the gritted teeth and dark glare, his eyes were a bit glassy, and there was a shakiness to his voice. James was still a scared and hurt twelve-year-old boy underneath the alt-right soldier he pretended to be. He was tired and angry and had no closure when he needed it most, so he lashed out and hurt others when they tried to fix him.

Andy had sadly been the first victim of James’s rage, and the first offense on his long line of trauma-induced violent outbursts.

There was nothing Andrew could say right then. He just stared at James with sympathy. Andrew knew not to touch him and not to say anything, just to wait for the fire to die down until he could.

James took another deep breath before loosening his death-grip on the ice pack and setting it aside. He turned over and faced Andrew.

“So, no, Andy and I don’t exactly get along. At all. And I would rather die than ever talk to that fucking faggot again. Now, what else would you like to do while you’re over besides piss me off and dig into my past?” James asked.

Andrew blinked. There was no way he was going to be able to magically fix the Andy and James situation in one day, and James looked too pissed off to want to talk about himself anymore. What he needed was a good distraction. “Do you wanna start a band?”

James stared back. He almost cracked a bit of a smile and the glassy eyes were starting to go away. “Sure, why not. What could go wrong?”

Chapter Text

“Line up for softball, come on, let’s go! Move it!”

Andrew rubbed uncomfortably at where the disgusting P.E. uniform sat weirdly. The school could barely afford good fabric for the uniforms. It would be ten times more embarrassing if Andrew was the only one suffering through it. Thank God everybody was required to wear the same gross uniforms. I wouldn’t want to be caught dead in this thing, talk about a fashion catastrophe. And what are these school colors anyway? Black and white? What kind of school does that? He went into the line to be assigned to a softball team as he thought about how pointless high school softball was in the grand scheme of existence. 

He looked across the softball field to see Andy getting berated by the other P.E. teacher for not wearing the P.E. uniform. This had happened every day since the beginning of the school year. After some back and forth arguing, Andy at least compromised on wearing the proper shoes for class. But quis skirt ripped tights, and hoodie all stayed in their familiar place. Today quis arms were lined up with beaded bracelets and colorful accessories. It was quite the eyesore to Andrew, but he wasn’t going to start judging now.

After the bad impression at quis house and learning the truth about James and Andy’s past, Andrew wanted to do his best to make a good second impression and get Andy to join the band. 

“ Andy, just get on the damn field, would you?!” Andy huffed and marched to the field to stand a little ways away from first base. Yes! We’re on the same team! This is the perfect chance to talk to them- quem- fuck- about the band! Andrew subtly moved closer.

Andy noticed immediately, rolled quis eyes, and scooted away. “Go back to your side of the field, I’m not talking to you. I don’t wanna get yelled at again, I got coach riled up enough.” Qui said. Andrew ignored the complaint and walked over, standing next to quem.

Neither said anything for a second. Andrew smiled. Andy glared straight ahead as Homer got up to bat and hit the ball far out by third base. As the second person got up to bat, Andy finally snapped, “What the fuck do you want, Andrew?”

“I wanted to apologize for the other day.” Andrew said, “I’m sorry I brought his guitar to your place. He let me borrow it the other day and said I could keep it because he didn’t want it anymore.”

“Don’t take offerings from Nazis,” Andy said plainly.

Andrew lightly countered, “He would have thrown out a perfectly good guitar. So I took it, fixed it up, and recycled it. Isn’t that, uh, good? Reusing materials?” Andy didn’t reply and Andrew knew that he was right. While Andy tried to think of something snarky to say, Andrew continued, “See, I really wanted to play with you that day because, well, I want to start a band. With my new friends. It was something I always wanted to do in private school but never did because I was too busy with academics. Compared to that, classes are a breeze here! So I want a fun after-school thing.”

“And you decided on a band? Even though you can’t sing or play?” Andy joked.

Andrew scoffed, “Ouch. Rude. I’m a good singer, you said so!”

The teams switched sides and Andrew jogged alongside Andy to keep up with quem. 

“Look, Andrew,” Andy explained, “As cool as a band sounds, who else would even be in it? Nobody really gives a shit about me around here. Unless you’re inviting popular kids, you aren’t going anywhere with that.”

“I don’t need to go anywhere with it,” Andrew said. “And… there aren’t any popular kids I really enjoy anyway. I want talented musicians, and that would be you, Andy.”

For a moment, Andy looked a little flattered. Qui looked away and rubbed quis neck. “Yeah, I guess.” Qui sighed.

Andrew was up to bat soon. He didn’t want this conversation to wait and decided to act fast. “Listen, it’s gonna be you me, and Karl Ommie. The one you’ve got a huge crush on. You in or not?”

Andy’s face lit up as qui blushed and nervously laughed. “What? What I don’t- come on- I’m not-“

“Andy!”

“Okay, okay, I’m in! I’m in.” 

“Andy!” The gym teacher shouted, “You’re up! Come on!”

Andy groaned and huffed, “Alright, alright!” Qui marched to the home plate and picked up the bat. “Lay it on me, let’s get this over with!”

Andrew watched with the biggest smile on his face as Andy struck out three times before swinging the bat at the catcher in rage.

Oh, this is going to be absolutely perfect.

It actually was not absolutely perfect. In fact, there were several flaws in Andrew’s plan, besides the fact that he had no clue how to play an instrument properly yet. 

Andrew wanted his friend James to be in the band because he had great vocals and knew a lot about music. He needed Karl to be in it since he had the extra instruments lying around and would also provide extra funding for the band. Finally, he needed Andy in the band because Andy was cool and knew how to give the band the actual rock-band style it needed to become popular (whether Andy believed that or not).

The problem was getting them all in one room without killing each other.

Karl didn’t even like Andrew, for starters, that was obvious enough. Karl and Andy didn’t know each other well and had a weird sexual tension factor that could go horribly wrong if Karl was straight. And, most importantly, Andy and James were enemies and had an intense past together that was a sore subject for them both.

I need them all in one place though. Andrew was doodling the setup of Karl’s garage and how they should do the band practice. If James gets here first, then Andy will see his car in the driveway. Andy doesn’t have a car, and I can get quem to park their- queer- keys? Quis. Quis bike can be parked in the back. Out of sight. Maybe if I can just get them in the same place and lock them in- no that’s a horrible idea- but-

“Are you going to help us move anything?!” Karl bellowed as he set down a large amp and whipped around to face Andrew, who was lying back on the couch in the garage.

Andrew groaned, “I mean, yeah, I could, I guess. I can carry, like, chords or something.”

“If you’re going to be in the band, you need to help. Mutual aid.” Karl snapped. He walked over and pulled Andrew off the couch. Andrew shrieked and stumbled to gain his balance. “Now help. Nazbol and Angel shouldn’t have to do all of the work.”

“They’re roadies! That’s their job.” Andrew argued but followed Karl inside. They went upstairs to the music room to gather more supplies for practice. Andrew huffed a bit as Karl shoved a pile of chords and mic stands into his arms. He almost dropped them from the forcefulness of it.

Karl scolded, “This is expensive, I would appreciate it if you did not destroy my things when you borrow them!” 

“Oh, but I’m just so, so clumsy! I’ll probably slip and drop them all down the stairs. Better to let Angel and Nazbol take care of it then, right?”

“No. Take the items down to the garage, kulak. Let’s not forget that this band was your idea.”

“Ugh, fine!”

Andrew hauled the chords and mic stands downstairs to the garage. Karl followed after with the last amp. They passed by Angel and Nazbol who were carrying old music stands but stopped in the kitchen for a snack. Andrew glanced at them, watched them laugh and hold hands over snacks, and quickly looked away. The sight made his stomach churn. 

He missed Richard and getting to hang out with him. They used to be so close, and now Andrew was lucky if he even answered his texts! Andrew knew that school could get busy, and Richard was constantly involved with family affairs. His father had always been strict over that, even now when they’re about to graduate. But Andrew didn’t realize just how busy Richard had been. It felt excessive. Andrew could have sworn that Richard used to be able to text and talk to him all the time. He wanted to tell himself it had always been like this but…

“You invited Andy?” asked Karl, glancing out the window of the garage door. 

Andrew looked out too and corrected, “Anne. Qui is wearing pink bracelets today, so qui is going by Anne. Remember that.” He went back to daydreaming about Richard while setting up mic stands. Karl moved to the back to find an outlet or two for their amps. He crouched down behind a shelf and some old boxes.

Anne got off quis bike and went into the garage. “Hey! Damn, nice place, sure is a lot of room in here! Andrew, is this your house? This is insane! I almost got yelled at just for riding my bike through this neighborhood that’s how rich it is!”

Karl poked his head up, a little sheepish, and announced, “It is mine, actually. It is good to see you made it, Anne.”

Anne’s face went red. Qui suddenly turned into a stuttering mess with sweaty hands and zero confidence. Andrew watched with interest. “Y-Yeah, uh, cool! That- There’s nothing wrong with, I mean, that’s nice! Nice place. Um. Lots of… Green. Cool, closed-off neighborhood. Nothing wrong with closed-off though! Private neighborhoods are- I mean-”

“I don’t like it either,” Karl said simply, his face blank now. “If I could get my parents to distribute their wealth, I would. It is a sin how they horde and flaunt it about like animals.”

Andrew interjected without thinking, “If they worked for it then let them have it.”

Anne and Karl both looked at Andrew with mixed expressions of annoyance and anger. Thankfully, Angel and Nazbol came in to break up the tension. 

“We got juice boxes from the kitchen!” Angel said, looking around. “Hi, Anne, good to have you here!”

Once the tension was broken and the group started casual chatting, they finished setting up for the band practice. Andrew started messing with one of the guitars. Karl did attempt to help him learn how to pluck the strings, but Andrew refused and insisted he would get it on his own. Anne messed with quis base and glanced at Karl several times to eye him up and down. Once again, the romantic tension made Andrew want to punch a wall or jump off a bridge.

“So, should we start?” Anne asked, “We’ve been sitting and tuning for ten minutes now.”

Karl furrowed his brows and asked, “Aren’t we still waiting for-”

“Yes! We can go ahead and start!” Andrew checked the clock on the wall. James was going to be there in just a few minutes or so. There’s no way he flaked, right? He’s just caught up with something. Right.

Anne said, “We should play some loud stuff since we’ve got so many amps and shit! It’ll sound fucking radical. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been thinking about this all week! Ever since Andrew asked… So if we’ve got me on base, Andrew on vocals, what’re you doing, Karl? Drums? That’s cool, okay, very cool for you to do! Um… We need a guitarist, don’t we? Andrew, you don’t know how to play yet. So who’s-”

“I’m sorry I’m late, I got caught up in my studying after class.”

All eyes turned to the entrance of the garage. James stood there, wearing a button-up and slacks- prim and proper as per usual. His blonde hair was slicked back with gel. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on none other than Anne.

With unparalleled rage, Anne stared back.

“Um…” Andrew laughed nervously. “So I forgot to mention! James is going to help on guitar, keys, backing vocals- He’s just so musically talented that-”

“YOU FUCKING CUNT!” Anne shot up from quis seat and lunged at James, punching him as hard as qui could. James stumbled back but quickly regained his balance and fought back, punching, kicking, and dodging with efficiency.

Nazbol and Angel whined and quickly left the garage, yelling about not wanting to get caught up in the fight. Karl got up from his spot in the corner, looming up like a dark savior. He took a stride forward to break them up, but Andrew quickly ran and grabbed him, pulling him out of the garage behind Nazbol and Angel.

Karl shouted, “They are going to destroy my garage! What are you doing?!” Andrew let go and locked the garage door, stepping back and looking through the window of the door as Anne and James continued to tear each other apart.

“L-Leave them,” Andrew panted, “They need to fucking work this out, i-it doesn’t involve us.”

“What?!” Angel gasped, “They’re going to kill each other in there! Let them out! Or let somebody in!” Angel moved to open the door but Nazbol held him back to keep him from getting hurt.

Andrew blocked the door so nobody could get in. He prayed Karl didn’t force it. 

Inside the garage, the yelling continued. There was the sound of items falling off of shelves and bodies hitting walls and floors. Karl winced and looked between Andrew and the garage. For a moment, he considered calling the police, but he knew that was the last thing any of them wanted. Especially Anne. Karl didn’t want his garage to look like a complete wreck, but if Anne and James needed a closed space to… do whatever they need to…

Karl asked, “What do they need to do exactly? Do you think they are going to suddenly make up and become friends?”

Andrew nodded. Karl scoffed and laughed.

“You are ridiculous!”

“You don’t know what I know.”

“No, I don’t, kulak. I have no idea what unintelligent idea you have that is leading you to think that this will work!”

When Andrew didn’t reply, Karl looked away and tapped his foot. He crossed his arms and sat on the sidewalk with Angel. Nazbol followed suit, pulling Angel close and hugging him. 

Shouting died down in the garage. Andrew felt the door handle move and he braced himself.

“LET US OUT YOU STUPID CUNT! I’M NOT SPENDING ONE MORE SECOND WITH THIS FREAK!”

“OH, YOU’RE ONE TO TALK YOU-”

“You both need to make up!” Andrew shouted over James before he could call Anne anything else, “Seriously! Just talk about it! Both of you! Especially you, James!”

There was a moment of silence, then more grumbling and yelling back and forth. Andrew closed his eyes and leaned his head on the door. He winced and said to the others, “I’m sorry we’re going to be starting practice so late. This… just needs to happen. Trust me.”

Can’t win the contest without the band. Can’t have a band if they hate each other. They need to make up and stop fighting, for the love of God.

The yelling went on anyway. Andrew was used to tuning out the sounds and found no trouble beginning to doze off against the doors.

Chapter Text

“LET US OUT YOU STUPID CUNT! I’M NOT SPENDING ONE MORE SECOND WITH THIS FREAK!”

“OH, YOU’RE ONE TO TALK YOU-”

“You both need to make up! Seriously, just talk about it! Both of you! Especially you, James!”

There was a beat of silence before Anne snapped at James, “I’m not saying another fucking word to you, you fascist! I’ll sit here and rot and die if I fucking have to!”

James argued, “That’s fine by me!” He went to the corner and sat in a chair, getting his phone out to call Homer to pick him up and save him from this nightmare. He couldn’t believe that Andrew had set them up like this! Trapping them in a communist’s shitty garage to talk about their feelings like god damn children. If I ever get out of here, I’m going to skin Andrew alive and hang him in front of the school like the fucking goblin he is.

Anne was beyond enraged. Qui grabbed quis base and sat in a chair, angrily retuning it to the drop D tuning it was at before qui showed up there. Quis plan was to pack up quis shit, break the door down, and get the fuck out of there. Wait until Hannah and Anna hear about this fucking nightmare! I swear if this fucking freak tries to talk to me again, I’m gonna fucking gut him like a fucking fish! Anne finished packing up quis things and marched for the door. Anne stepped back before charging at the door and kicking it near the doorknob. It didn’t budge- didn’t even splinter.

“You aren’t going to break it down like that-”

“I said don’t fUCKING TALK TO ME!”

“Jesus Christ, get over yourself! We’re locked in, okay?! There’s nothing that we can do.”

“Typical you, always so fucking pessimistic!”

“Typical you , acting like you just know everything about me!”

Anne threw quis stuff down and shouted, “I do know everything about you! You’re a fucking pathetic fascist that hates gay people, hates minorities, hates me, and hates everything good in the world! You can’t fucking stand when people get what they want and you don’t, and you take it out on everybody else!”

James glared and tapped his foot impatiently. “That’s all you think of me? Seriously? Does it occur to you that I have feelings too?”

Anne screamed in rage and threw a juice box at James. “YOU'RE SO FUCKING HYPOCRITICAL! DOES IT NOT OCCUR TO YOU THAT I AM TOO?! GOD YOU ACT LIKE SUCH A VICTIM!”

“You’re the one screaming like a banshee,” James stated monotonously. 

Anne took a moment to take a deep breath and calm down. Qui snapped, “I hate when you do that-”

“Do what?”

“You do that thing where you act all calm and strong and somehow that means you win the argument and it doesn’t .”

“You’re being extremely accusatory.”

“OH MY GOD DROP THE ACT!”

Anne continued to yell, “WE CANT EVEN MAKE UP IF WE WANTED TO BECAUSE THIS IS ALL YOU DO! YOU PUT UP BILLIONS OF EMOTIONAL WALLS AND GASLIGHT WHOEVER THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING TO UNTIL NOBODY KNOWS WHO YOU ARE! I CAN’T EVEN HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU UNDERMINE EVERYTHING ABOUT ME!”

James didn’t reply. Anne took that as a momentary win. Qui grabbed quis things once again and tried to break down the door once more. Qui yelped and dropped quis stuff as the pain in quis foot. “FUCK!” Qui sat in a chair and held it in pain. James perked up a bit but tried not to show interest in the pain. Anne kept quis head down so James couldn’t see quis face.

For a second, neither said anything. James watched Anne’s shoulder gently shake a little. He wondered if he should intervene or ask if Anne was okay. Another moment passed of him not doing anything instead. Anne finally lifted quis head up and sniffled. Quis eyes were starting to get puffy and red.

Anne snapped, “I hate you… And I’ve hated you since that day… And it’s like you don’t get it.”

“I get it.”

James was just as surprised as Anne that he even said anything. He tensed up and looked away, picking at some dirt under his nails. Anne stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Qui gestured for him to say more. James glanced at quem and then looked back down.

He hesitated before saying, “I… I’ve hated you the same- don’t yell at me yet though! Just- just hear me out.” Somehow, Anne obliged and didn’t say anything. James continued, “... I… think we were both hurt that day. In different ways. And… Now we hate each other. Yeah?”

“Yeah, nice detective skills, shit head.”

“Thank you. Uh… We- We both had a… it was just…”

He started to fumble for words. He stared at Anne like qui knew how to finish his sentence, but Anne didn’t say anything. James looked down and shook his head. He got up and grabbed his bag.

“Forget it. I’ll pick the lock and we can leave.” James moved to the door. “Do you got a bobby pin?”

Anne didn’t reply. Qui slowly set quis stuff down and looked at James. 

“Do you have one or not?”

“How did I hurt you?”

James perked up and looked at Anne. Words couldn’t describe the sort of innocent, curious look that Anne wore. It was something akin to a child. 

James cleared his throat and fixed his button-up and tie. He tried to explain, “I… just… I…” He shook his head and tried to remain calm. “I wasn’t hurt. I’m fine.”

“No!” Anne huffed, “No, no, no! You almost had it just say it! God, if you’re gonna fucking talk just-” Anne made some wild hand gestures at James, including squeezing the air and imagining it as James’s throat. “-just fucking say it to me if you wanna say it!”

“No, I-I’m not- I don’t need to-”

“Say it!”

“-it’s not that important-”

“SAY IT, FUCKER!”

“I was scared! I was scared, Anne, I was- I-I was scared! … I was scared…” 

James’s hands were clenched tightly at his sides, staring at the ground. This was the last thing that he wanted to be talking about, especially now . He was caught so off-guard by all of this and now he was telling Anne all of this improvised information, and for what?! To be called an idiot fascist and beat up for the millionth time? So that he could be once again proved that he and Anne could never, ever -

“You were raised Christian…” James slowly looked up at Anne. Qui seemed to have some kind of understanding look on quis face. After James nodded a little, Anne continued, “And… Ok, you know, I… I guess I… Oh gosh.” Anne took a seat and leaned back. “I… I always liked to look back and tell myself that, really, I was just being a good friend but… I was certainly… Well, I mean, I wasn’t flirting but, I certainly had a bit of a crush. But you did a great job nipping that in the bud.” Anne fished through quis pockets before pulling out an old vape.

James winced and looked away. He said, “I didn’t know what to feel… I was taught that those kinds of things were… wrong. And they are wrong, it’s disgusting. Being gay and-” He stopped and looked at Anne, who took a big puff of quis vape and blew the smoke up into the air. Anne heard James stop and looked at him with half-lidded eyes.

“And you’re not even listening.” James finished. He took a deep breath and tried to stay calm again. Even though his heart was two seconds away from bursting and his throat was ready to scream.  “Forget it, just forget it then.” 

“Hey, I was listening-”

“No, you weren’t, you just-”

“Don’t go fucking accusing me of shit, you-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Andy, just-”
“My name is ANNE today, you stupid fUCKING-”

“What does that even mean, huh?!” James asked, “Why do you have two names?! And why- what the actual FUCK are your pronouns?! Qui and quem?! What does that even mean! Why are you like this, why do you have to be so fucking weird and- and different and completely non-understandable?! Was it so hard that you just fucking stay the same and predictable and- and not fucking change?!” James took a deep breath and stomped his foot to get some energy out. He stood up and marched to Anne, pointing in quis face. “You were supposed to be the one fucking thing in my life that I could fucking UNDERSTAND! But you had to go and- and make me feel all fucking WEIRD! And CHANGE! AND THEN YOU LEFT LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE!”

His throat felt raw and his voice cracked at the end. With one hand his finger was right at Anne’s face and the other was balled up into a tight fist. Anne didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink at James’s anger. Qui stared and James glared back. He slowly teared up and Anne whispered, “There. That is what I wanted… Just some kind of emotion…” Qui stepped back as James lowered his hands and took a deep, shaky breath.

Anne quietly said, “I think I understand where you’re coming from, but-”

“I-I’m sorry.”
“Oh, you’re not done. Okay, go on, go on.”

James tried to speak through the mess of tears flowing down his face. There was suddenly so much that he wanted to say and apologize for in such a short amount of time. How could he possibly explain almost ten years' worth of resentment, guilt, and-

“Hey.” Anne said, “It’s okay. We can end it there for now… and we could keep talking later. Okay?” 

James shook his head and said, “No, no, no, I need to- I-I just-” He sobbed and gripped Anne’s shirt fabric. Anne pulled back and shoved him off with an annoyed huff.

“Okay, look, listen, look, look, listen!” Anne grabbed James’s wrists and snapped, “I’m sorry that you’re going through all this, but there’s nothing that we can do about this right now… Look, you got a lot to think about, I can tell, okay? But… your emotional blockage isn’t-... How do I put this? Your emotional baggage and walls that you’ve put up, the hurt you’ve caused others due to your own trauma, that’s… still hurting others, y’know?” Anne let go of his wrists and stepped away. “I understand that you are in distress, but… We gotta wait right now, okay? You’re overwhelmed and I think you need time alone to unpack this. Or, better yet, unpack it with a therapist. Okay?”

James sobbed again, and sobbed harder at the sound of his own anguish. He nodded a bit and quickly began wiping his face with his tie. He tried to steady his breathing like he always practiced. Anne nodded along and whispered, “Alright, easy, deep breaths. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, James… It’s okay. We can talk about this more later.”

It took a few minutes for James to finally calm down. He sat in one of the metal chairs, his knees curled up to his chest, and taking the deep breaths he was always used to. Anne sat in another chair and continued to hit quis vape. Neither party spoke again.

After five minutes of cruel silence and the blue raspberry scent filling the air, the door to the garage unlocked and slowly opened a little. Nazbol peeked his head inside. 

“Hyello?” Nazbol asked, “Is it safe to open up the garage?” James looked up, his face now cool and collected but his eyes still a slight red. 

Anne groaned, “Finally, holy shit! Can we come out now?!” 

Nazbol opened up the door and Andrew, Karl, Angel, and Nazbol all filed in one after the other.

“I’m sorry for the stunt, but it had to be done for the greater good!” Andrew sighed, adjusting his sunglasses. “And now that it’s all figured out, we can go ahead and play something! So, I was thinking we start off with some classics, something good like red hot chili peppers or- or hey! We could do something new like-”

“Andrew, shut the fuck up,” Anne said, pocketing quis vape. “You just locked us in a garage for over an hour, we’re calling the fucking shots, okay? Now, I wanna play something hard rock or edgy. I’m thinking some acab for cutie, some mindless self-indulgence, something banging! Fash, what’re you thinking? Huh?”

James blinked and shrugged a little. “I can do whatever.”

Andrew pouted and said, “Why can’t we do what I want? I’m going to be the lead singer after all.”

“You’re the lead singer?” James snapped, “Why did you invite me if I’m not the lead?”

“I agree with Anne. You locked them in the garage, they deserve to choose what we do next.” Karl spoke up. He looked at Anne and nodded a little. Anne’s face went bright red as qui smiled and nodded.

“Yeah! Yeah, uh,” Anne looked away and rubbed quis neck. “Thanks, Karl. Um… Let’s try, uh… Oh oh oh! Let’s do something by system of a down! Oh, have you guys ever listened to, like, Dead Kennedys?!”

The band ended up playing a multitude of genres. James preferred more classic rock that you’d hear your dad play on the radio, Karl had some niche picks that the others could barely find chord sheets for online, Anne insisted on punk and metal, and Andrew convinced the band to play some classic rock and current indie and pop hits. After a couple of weeks of practicing and memorizing some songs, they decided to take a crack at posting their sound online!

“We need a band name still,” Anne said, fixing quis bass strap. “If we’re gonna post stuff, we need a youtube account and a username and a band name!” Qui scooted closer to Karl and watched him mess with his bass drum’s tuning.

James suggested, “Maybe we could use a name generator online. That would be the most logical.”

“Man, taking somebody else’s work? That’s fucking lame, no way.” Anne argued.

“Andrew and the Misfits,” Andrew suggested.

“No.” The group replied at once.

“Cappy and the Boys.”

“No.”

“Andrew and the sidekicks. Or just Andy and the Kicks.”

“No.”

“What about Cappy and the-”

“Kulak!” Karl warned, “No more of this theme. You are not lead. We are a band.” He set his tuning key down and relaxed on his stool. “Now, how are we going to film this? I am sure Nazbol can hold a camera if needed.”

Andrew smiled nervously. He hadn’t exactly told the group who their camera-man and social media manager was yet, and he was sure they weren’t exactly going to like the pick. He tried to explain, “Well, uh, you see I kinda, um, outsourced for a person, not anything crazy, I mean, he goes to our school so it is somebody we all know!”

“When will he be here?” Anne asked, “And who is it!”

“He’s just running a little late I think,” Andrew said, checking his watch. He frowned. It was twenty past the agreed-upon time. He checked his phone to see if he had any calls or messages, but suddenly the door to the garage opened up.

“Hiiiiiiiii! So great to be here!”

James scowled and snapped, “Andrew, I’m getting sick of your inability to run anything by us.”

Andrew tried to explain, “He’s good with social media! And he posts videos all the time! He knows how to advertise and campaign and all kinds of stuff!”

Anne said, “We already have one fascist in the group, and I can barely tolerate him. Why do we need another! James doesn’t even like him!”

Karl whispered, “Who is that?”

“Gosh okay, you guys are touchy.” Homer teased, setting his pink backpack down and taking off his sunglasses. He grabbed a metal folding chair and sat down, crossing his legs and leaning his head on his hands. “So, what’re we doing for the cute little video, hm?”

“None of your business!” Anne said, “You’re not involved with this! At all!”

Homer looked at Andrew and batted his eyes. Andrew tried not to look nervous. If Homer wasn’t allowed to participate with the band then he was going to share his stupid secret about not being rich! He couldn’t let that happen, even if it meant disappointing some people’s feelings. Frankly, this issue is just more important than anybody’s stupid comfort level. He’s not even that bad! He’s just… overly annoying and gay. So is Anne! It’s fine. It’s gonna be fine.

Andrew cleared his throat and said, “He’s going to help us with our presentation on social media like Instagram and Twitter. And… He’s gonna edit the video. But, I mean,” he glanced at Homer and then back at the group. “Nazbol can still do all the filming.” Homer held back a mean comment about Nazbol’s camera skills. 

The gang looked around at each other, back at Homer, and then to Andrew. Andrew mentally crossed his fingers. Karl gave a little shrug and returned to tuning his set. It was between Anne and James now. 

Anne sighed, “I mean… I guess. But if he starts shit then I’m curb-stomping him.” Anne crossed quis arms and leaned back in quis chair.

“James?” Andrew asked, “What’re you thinking.”

James stared back at Andrew. He kept his arms crossed and his glare cold and focused on Andrew. He took a deep breath and said, “Fine. For now.” Andrew sighed with relief and Homer clapped and giggled.

“Yay! This is gonna be so fun! I’ll just be right here, okay?” Homer got out his laptop. “Don’t mind me, okay? I’ll be here.” 

Andrew cleared his throat and said, “Okay, if we’re all done freaking out over nothing, do we wanna start with-”

“Um, hold on!” Homer loudly gasped, “Who the fuck does this guy think he is!” He whipped his laptop around, showing the group a Twitter page. They all gathered close to peer at Homer’s screen.

The Twitter page was to somebody named “cent.ranD”, and their entire page was filled with posts about the band at the high school! All negative, and all talking about how stupid the band was.

“Who is this freak?” James asked, “We should find him and kick his ass.”

Andy loudly said, “We should castrate them! If they have a penis because it is possible that-”

“Randy,” Andrew remembered the worker from the music shop and his sarcastic smile. He glared at the screen and said, “He’s some asshole from school, the one with the shitty opinions in civics class!”

“I think everybody in civics class has bad opinions!” Nazbol giggled.

“Okay, dumbass, but your ideology makes no sense,” Andy said. Karl gave Andy a slight shove at that, and qui winced and quietly apologized.

Homer said, “This guy is destroying your career before it even begins! I mean, seriously, he’s saying you guys sound like shit. You know what this means right?” The group stared as Homer waited for a response, but nobody seemed to know what he was getting at. Homer sighed and said, “You’re gonna have to prove him wrong and actually play in public ! I mean, seriously, you guys have been practicing for, like, ever now! I mean, cmon, besties, you gotta get out there and actually start getting your name out!” Homer set his laptop aside and stood up on the chair. “Everybody in this town needs to know that the best sound in the world is right here in our hometown! And that sound is… uh…” Homer stared at them and crossed his arms. “What’s the stupid band called?”

They all looked at each other and then back at the Instagram page. Andy giggled, “Anti Randy.”

“Anti-cent.” James said, “What kind of last name is Cent, anyway? Also, that’s still a shitty username, it would never survive in a cod lobby-”

“Centricide!” Nazbol suddenly shouted, causing several of the others to flinch down and away from his explosive behavior. Nazbol grinned and shouted again, “Centricide! Like a genocide but for centrists like randy! Centricide, centricide, centricide, cent-”

“Okay, okay!” Andrew nodded and shrugged. “Centricide… It doesn’t have a bad ring to it!”

James and Andy nodded. Karl said, “This… Centricide. It is a good name.” He turned to Homer and said, “Centricide.”

Homer was on his phone scrolling through Instagram while they argued about a band name. He perked up and repeated, “Centricide? … Okay, your band. Your name. What was I saying again? Oh, yeah.” He put his phone away and resumed his pep talk. “Centricide is the best damn sound in this town, and nobody’s gonna tell us otherwise! Now let’s shoot this god damn video! Yeah?!”

“YEAH!!!”

Chapter Text

They have to come this time. There’s no way they can forget about me four times in a row, right? And just leave me stranded?  

Andrew checked his phone one more time to see if he had any missed texts or calls. The time read 5:37, over half an hour late for their scheduled hang-out, leaving Andrew sitting alone at a big table in a restaurant he didn’t even care about. He looked around one more time before huffing and getting up. Andrew quickly left the restaurant and went outside, getting his phone out once again and trying to call any of his friends.

He called Richard. No answer.

He called Min. No answer.

He calls Hans. No answer.

And he called Richard one more time, for good measure. This time it went straight to voicemail.

“Somethings up.” He mumbled. And I’m getting tired of being left in the dark! I’m getting to the bottom of this once and for all! 

So Andrew went back to his house, up to his room, and started searching around on social media. All of their Snapchat locations were off, which only added to Andrew’s suspicion. On top of that, he couldn’t even find Hans’s socials, which meant that he had been blocked! Andrew was getting angrier by the second. He and Hans had never been too close, and Hans didn’t even like anybody but Min anyways, but going as far as to block Andrew? He was furious!

Andrew shoved his laptop away and sat back in his seat, angry with the lack of information on his friends’ behaviors. He tapped his fingers on the desk and mumbled, “Who do I have access to that’s in the know on everything…” He glanced out his window and tried to think. As he looked outside, he noticed a crow on the tree outside his house, pecking around at some branches.

“Grej’s kid!” Andrew gasped, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” He put on the fanciest outfit he could, grabbed his bag, and ran out the door. 

He got on the bus to his old private school, careful to keep his head down and his eyes on the ground just in case anybody he used to know was on the bus. It would be embarrassing to be caught on public transportation by his old classmates! A long bus ride later and Andrew was back in front of his old home. His oasis…

Grej Private Institution.

Andrew got off the bus and immediately walked away from the front doors of the school. Far, far off, down several blocks until he reached the woods just on the edge of the town. He turned into the woods and started the trudge to the only entrance of the building he knew he could get into. In the back of the school grounds was a chain-link fence, and he knew there was a little opening back there that kids used when they needed to sneak in and out of school grounds to grab a coffee or whatever other trouble they were getting up to. Andrew was going to use it to sneak back into the school.

I don’t even want to know what will happen if I get caught by the administration. Would they call the cops? My parents? Andrew glanced around the woods before spotting a rotted picnic bench just ahead of him. He went past it and kept going straight. Thank God for landmarks, I’d never find my way around otherwise.  

He spotted the chain-link fence and snuck over to it, peering through foliage and bushes. The back area of the school was empty as it was after hours, perfect for his breaking in. Andrew found the loose fence and squeezed through, careful not to tear his jacket or cut himself on the wire. He sighed in relief and quickly ran to the side of the school, hiding around a corner and peering around. Still no sign of staff or students around. Andrew snuck around to one of the side doors and tried it. Locked.

Of course, just my stupid luck. Andrew rolled his eyes and went to the window. Unlocked. That’ll do. He awkwardly lifted it open and climbed inside but lost his footing and fell in. He hissed in pain as he hit his head off a desk. Andrew covered his mouth tightly and looked around the classroom. It was a science lab, but not one that he had ever been in before. Andrew carefully got up and shut the window before sneaking over to the nearest door and peering out the small window.

The hallway was empty, the lights all off. Andrew decided to take his chance. He snuck out the door of the classroom and immediately navigated his way to the stairwell. Andrew started going down, down, and down to the basement. The boiler room. This was where all the custodians kept their cleaning supplies and had their tiny offices as well. But, more importantly to Andrew, it was also where a certain student at Grej Institute hid away and kept an eye on everybody on campus, whether most knew about him or not. Andrew was lucky to know this private information and even luckier that the student was there after hours.

Andrew squeezed behind some pipes and machinery and went to an old dusty door. A little paper was hung up that read, “PRESENT”. He grinned and quickly knocked on the door.

It took a moment before a muffled voice stated, “You may enter, Andrew Cappy.”

Freak. Andrew thought to himself. He opened the door and stepped into the little security camera office.

Inigo Grej. The administrator’s son, overseer of all students and staff, and honorary hallway monitor. He was sitting at a cramped little desk, hands folded in front of his face, and staring at Andrew. Inigo was a freaky kid, with greasy black hair and a disturbing scar going across his face and over his right eye. He didn’t talk to anybody but the friends his father approved of and business associates. Like Andrew at this moment, for example.

“What have you broken into the school for today?” Inigo asked, “It must be very important to you.” He looked Andrew up and down before nodding to an old wooden chair. Andrew shut the door and took a seat, brushing himself off.

Andrew said, “I need some information on Richard Lincoln, Min Kyst, and Hans-”

“Your old friend group.” Inigo interrupted, “How interesting. Is your new band not fulfilling? You need some old habits to keep you whole?”

Andrew felt uneasy. He asked, “You still keep tabs on me? I-I’m not even a-associated with this place anymore-”

“Yet here you are.”

Neither spoke for a moment. Inigo broke the silence and said, “I have the information you want to hear. That you need to hear, but I am going to need payment.”

With a reluctant sigh, Andrew pulled out his wallet and started taking out cash. He only had $100, and he had to scrape around his room to dig that much up. Andrew set it on the desk for Inigo to inspect, which he did with a little smile. Inigo counted the cash.

“I will need more.”

“I don’t have more-”

“I am aware of your financial standing, Cappy. I do not need something of monetary value. Emotional will do just fine.”

Andrew felt even more disturbed. He hated visiting Inigo, but he had no choice when his old friends would give him no answers. Andrew thought a bit before getting his bag out and digging through it. He opened up one of the inside pockets before pulling out an old polaroid photo.

“Here,” Andrew said. “It’s… It’s the only emotionally valuable item I have on me.”

Inigo took the photo and inspected it. He turned it around and looked at the date on the back. He read, “2019 Grej Institute Dance.” He flipped it back over and noted, “You and Richard. He’s always meant a lot to you, hasn’t he?” Andrew didn’t reply. He waited for Inigo to approve or disapprove of the payment.

After what felt like an eternity, Inigo set the photo and the $100 aside. He said, “Your friends are all still hanging out together, there was no falling out or issues after you left the school.” Inigo turned his computer monitor around and started playing through different footage and photographs of Andrew’s friends around the school grounds. Does he just have this shit stored away somewhere, what the fuck? Andrew regretted coming here.

Inigo continued to explain, “They have made no audible or digital agreements to cut you out, but it is clear that is their goal. Hans blocked you last week on Tuesday at 4:56 pm. Min removed you as a follower on Instagram last week on Wednesday at 12:22 in the afternoon. Richard has not blocked you or removed you as a friend or follower, but he has not made a move to contact you.” Inigo turned the computer back around and looked at Andrew with a smile. “And they have left you stranded every time you have tried to get together again, correct?”

Andrew tried to explain, “They’ve just been busy the first few times, it’s just this time that I’m-”

“They are abandoning you.” Inigo interrupted coldly. “They do not want to hang out with you anymore. You have moved down in the world. There is talk around the school that you are stepping down from class clown to social class delinquent. Moving to public school, joining a band, even being spotted in public dressed casually in-store brand or thrifted clothing.”

“That isn’t true, I-”

“Where are they right now, Andrew?”
“They’re just- I’m sure they just forgot! If I texted them right now-”

“If you texted them they would not answer.”

“That’s not-”

“Where are they?”

Andrew huffed and stood up, “That’s it, this was a stupid idea! I’m done! You’re- You’re just some fucking-” He held his tongue, groaned in anger, and turned for the door.

Inigo sighed, “There is a party tonight.” Andrew stopped as his heart sank. He slowly turned, face red, and trying not to start crying.  “It is at Richard Lincoln’s house, but I do believe Min and some others are the ones that planned and started the idea of the party. It started at 5 o'clock.” He folded his hands on the desk and waited for Andrew to make a move. Andrew did nothing. He stared at Inigo with balled-up fists. After a few seconds of deep breaths, Andrew turned and left after saying a quiet thank you.

Andrew didn’t know what to think as he started making his way through the back property of the school and the woods. He tried to squeeze through the fence, but his jacket got caught. It ripped and Andrew stumbled forward with a yelp, landing in some dirt and bushes. Andrew winced and yelled with rage, quickly standing up, fixing his jacket, and continuing forward through the trees.

“This isn’t fucking fair!” Andrew huffed, “I give them years of friendship and- and doing shit for them, helping them cheat through classes, being the fall guy, and- and for what! Being fucking thrown away?! What?!” He made it through the forest and got out to the street, quickly looking for the main street through the richer properties of town. “I’ll show them, I’ll show Inigo too, that fucking freak! I’m not- I’m not being abandoned, there’s no way! They just forgot that’s all! That’s it!” He started walking down the street in the direction of Richard’s house.

The cars lining the street were not a good sign as he got closer to his “best friend’s” address. All of the lights in Richard’s house were on, and he could hear loud music and see colorful lights out in the backyard arena where his pool was. Andrew huffed to himself, “No fucking way. There’s no fucking way.” He fixed his sunglasses and marched up to the house.

“Woah, Cappy, that you?”

“Holy shit, flash from the past!”

“Dude, what happened to your jacket?”

Andrew didn’t answer anybody hanging out in the front yard. He went straight through the front entrance and into the house, heading through the main room and into the living room. 

Everybody was crowded around a table drinking and laughing around a game of beer pong. Andrew shoved his way through and spotted them. His so-called friends were all laughing and drinking together as they played. Richard’s shirt was partially unbuttoned and Andrew couldn’t help but stare for a little too long. Even now, he could barely keep his feelings for Richard down. Min was flushed and giggling over a red solo cup, clearly drunk off his ass already. Hans was staying close to him and carrying a bottle of Malibu.

“Guys!!” Andrew shouted over the music, glaring at the three. “I made it! Thanks for fucking inviting me!!”

Everybody turned their attention to Andrew, and somebody in the back moved to turn down the music. Richard perked up, Min choked on his drink, and Hans remained unamused.

“A-Andy, what- what are you… what are you doing here?” Richard asked with a nervous smile. “I- I’m- It’s good to see you!”

Min gave a long sigh and whined, “Andrew, who let you in?” He hiccuped in between words and could barely hold himself up to look Andrew in the eye.

“I let my fucking self in!” Andrew said, “What the fuck! We were supposed to hang out almost two hours ago now and- and here you all are getting drunk off your asses without me! Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t make it or- or how did you forget to invite me!” He grabbed the nearest beer from somebody and started drinking. “I love drinking! I love parties! I can participate!”

Richard cringed and Hans rolled his eyes. Andrew gasped, “Oh, what, what’s the fucking problem?!”

Richard said, “Andy, please stop yelling, let’s- can we talk about this privately, please? Upstairs? Come on, we’ll-”

“No! I wanna know what the fuck is going on! None of you are answering me online, some of you even blocked me! I want answers! Now!!!”

Min and Richard looked between each other, but Hans spoke without hesitation. “We aren’t going to hang out with somebody that got kicked out of school for being a man-whore.” Hans snapped. Richard gasped and looked at him, but Hans continued. He said simply, “Look at you.”

There were a couple of snickers as Andrew looked down at himself. His pants were covered in mud and dirt, his jacket had a tear on the side from the fence, and he was red in the face. Andrew even reached up to fix his hair to find a small branch had broken off and gotten stuck in there. He quickly pulled it out and flicked it aside. Then he noticed people snickering and starting to pull out phones.

Andrew quickly scoffed and said, “This- This is nothing! I got in a bit of a tussle before I got here, whatever! But- But I’m not any different than I used to be! Why can’t we be friends, huh? Because- because we go to different schools?!”

“We’re complete-” Min hiccuped. “-completely different people! You’re all… gross now! You know?”

“No, I guess I don’t know!” Andrew hissed at him. “You- You and Hans are assholes anyway! You’re not who I’m fucking here for!” He looked at Richard.

Time seemed to come to a still as they looked at each other. Richard looked embarrassed, his face slightly flushed as he frowned and kept a tight grip on his bottle of water. He glanced around quickly before looking back at Andrew. Andrew stared back. This was a side of Richard that Andrew had never seen directed at himself before. He looked so embarrassed, so disgusted by how Andrew was behaving. It made him feel sick to his stomach. Richard’s eyes begged him to leave. And to never come back to him.

Andrew wondered if the room could hear his heart breaking over the music and laughter. He huffed and threw his beer at them. “FINE! FINE FUCKING FINE! HAVE YOUR STUPID FUCKING RICH FRAT PARTY WITHOUT ME! I DON’T NEED ANY OF YOU!” He screamed so loud that his throat felt raw. “I’LL JUST FUCKING LEAVE AND NEVER FUCKING CONTACT ANY OF YOU AGAIN!” He grabbed one of the pool balls and threw it at them as well before running out of the house. People cheered and laughed at the behavior, turning their phones to capture Andrew stumbling out of the house and down the sidewalk.

STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID. Once Andrew got down the block from the party he could feel tears rolling down his face. His breathing got ragged as he sobbed like a child. Once he reached the nearest bus stop he sat down on the curb and buried his face into his knees, holding them tight and digging his nails into his legs. Andrew let himself sob until his throat was sore and his ribs ached. He hadn’t cried like this in so, so long.

It took a few minutes for Andrew to calm down and recompose himself, but once he did he got up and moved to the bus stop bench. He sniffled and wiped his face on his jacket sleeve, which was already covered in dirt.

The bus pulled up and Andrew got on, heading back home. He got his phone out, avoided all social media that could show him videos or photos of himself at the party, and pulled up the group chat between him and the rest of the band.

Andrew: Is anybody free? I know its last minute but I just need somebody around rn

He didn’t expect an answer. Andrew put his phone in his pocket and leaned his head against the window, only for his phone to go off just a few seconds later.

Anne: Hey u ok? Wanna talk? /gen /nm

James: You can come over if you want.

James: What do gen and nm mean?

Anne: theyre tone tags -_- you dont know tone tags?

James: k Andrew do you wanna hang out?

Andrew: yeah that would be great, can I spend the night?

James: Sure it's no problem.

Karl: May I hang out as well?

Anne: ooooooo me too! I wanna hang out! /srs

 Andrew sniffled and smiled down at his phone. They all agreed to be over at James’s in the next half an hour or so. Anne kept asking what was wrong, so Andrew finally said he would talk about it when they all got together. For now, he relaxed on the bus ride and leaned his head back on the seat.

`James had tried his best to straighten up the living room for his guests and cater to what they would need. He hadn’t had people spend the night in a very, very long time. Eventually, he had to cave in and ask Homer for help in making the sleepover fun.

So Homer got out bags of chips and boxes of soda, set up the TV and showed James how to switch between Netflix and Hulu, and showed him where the extra blankets, pillows, and air mattress were in the hall closets. It took a lot of James’s energy, but he managed it all for his guests.

And they finally arrived. Anne first, then Karl, and finally Andrew.

“You’ve got a nice place,” Anne said, looking around from quis spot on the pull-out couch. “It’s… fancy.”

Karl sighed, “It is what I expected out of a kulak like you.”

Andrew was also sitting on the pull-out couch, messing with his torn jacket. James looked over at him and cleared his throat before asking, “Do you want to talk about it, Andrew?” Andrew looked at the group and sighed before explaining everything: His “friends” ghosting him, the trip to the school, the party, all of it. It took a lot out of him to not start tearing up and crying, but he was sure it was obvious that he had earlier in the day and wanted to again. Once he finally finished explaining, he looked away and waited for the judgment.

“Dude, that’s brutal,” Anne said, gently patting his arm. “They sound like a bunch of assholes, you didn’t deserve that.” Karl nodded in agreement, reaching out to give an awkward pat on Andrew’s head.

James said, “I’m sorry you embarrassed yourself to them.” Anne and Karl looked disapprovingly at James, who rolled his eyes before correcting himself. “I’m sorry they, um, betrayed your trust. That’s sad. Really.”

“Slash gen,” Anne said, nudging James. 

James cringed and repeated, “Slash… gen.”

“Okay, okay, thanks, guys.” Andrew moved away from the friendly pats and sighed, “I’ll be fine, I- I just need some time to get over it. I’m okay. Can we focus on something else?”

“Sure, I can put in a movie and we can head to bed if we’d like?” James suggested as he eyed the clock. It was close to 9 o'clock.

“What? That is so dumb it’s so early!” Anne whined.

“I agree, it is much too early to be going to sleep.” Karl nodded.

“Okay, well… What do you want to do then? We have Netflix, Hulu, I have some video games, board games?”

“Ooo, ooo, what games do you have?!”

“Call of duty, destiny, halo-”

“No, board games! Fuck your video games.”

“... Clue, Sorry, Monopoly-”

Andrew gasped, “You have Monopoly? Really?”

James went to one of the kitchen cupboards and pulled out an old Monopoly box. He brought it over to the living room and cleared a spot on the coffee table so they could all play. And they did. For hours. Andrew insisted they play two rounds of it at least. Anne was terrible at it, Karl tried his best but was outplayed by James, and Andrew held the lead the entire game. The other three probably would have overthrown him or quit playing, but they were having a great time just hanging out. And Andrew was having the time of his life as he threw the other three into jail and hundreds of dollars of debt.

When they finally finished playing and got ready for bed, they all slept on the extra large pull-out couch together. From left to right it was Karl, Anne, Andrew, and James. While everybody tried to fall asleep, Andrew stared at the ceiling. 

“You’re still awake?” James whispered at some point late in the night, giving Andrew a little nudge. Andrew shrugged a little.

He whispered back, “I just… I had a great time with you guys tonight. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.” It was too dark to tell, but Andrew was pretty sure James was smiling back at him.

“I had fun too. Go to bed.” James said, “We can keep hanging out in the morning.” His hand brushed against Andrew’s for just a moment before he turned over and curled up to go to bed. Andrew tried to ignore how much that made him blush and closed his eyes to go to sleep.

And for just a moment, Andrew let himself cry again over just how happy his new friends made him.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean she’s just gone?”

Andrew’s father was staring down at his cup of coffee, gently turning a spoon around in it to mix the creamer in. There were heavy bags under his eyes. Andrew stood in the doorway of the kitchen, still in his pajamas. Hair unbrushed. He stared at his father.

“She… is gone.” His father repeated. “She went to a, uh, a place to get better. A rehab center.”

Andrew scoffed, “Really? I’m sure that’s going great.”

“Andrew she’s really going to try. She’s doing her best.”

“How do you know that?! She’s not going to try, she never does! She isn’t going to do anything different when she gets out, she’s just gonna go back to doing whatever she wants!”

“You don’t know that.”

Andrew groaned with frustration and left the kitchen, heading for the stairs. His father got up and followed. He insisted, “Andrew, she’s your mother!” Andrew didn’t reply, he continued his storm up the stairs and to his bedroom, slamming the door shut. There wasn’t a single part of him that believed in his mother’s attempts to rehabilitate. The woman that had screamed in his face, told him he was a piece of shit, worthless mistake of a son, and threw things at him when he didn’t stay quiet enough- She was going to somehow change? In one week?

“Andrew, do not lock that door!” 

“Too late!” Andrew did exactly that as he went into his room, slammed the door, and locked it closed. His father didn’t say anything after that. Meanwhile, Andrew got back in bed and pulled the covers over his head. He dug around under his pillow for his phone and quickly went to messages. Just wait until Richard hears about this. What a bunch of fucking idiots. Rehab? Yeah right! His thumb hovered Richard’s contact, but before Andrew could press on it he stopped and finally remembered. He sighed and set his phone aside, rubbing his eyes.

It had been a few months since the party at Richard’s place, and Andrew was still clinging to old nostalgia of his friend group. Even Min and Hans, who he swore to himself he didn’t care about, were invading his memories and making him homesick. It was the second semester of senior year, and Andrew had never felt worse or confused about what to do with himself. With his mother suddenly going to rehab, his father lecturing him about college opportunity, his childhood friends up and gone, and his new friends still too unfamiliar to be bothered, Andrew didn’t have many resources for comfort, let alone company. It wasn’t that Andrew’s new friends wouldn’t be a good source of it, it was just that he didn’t feel like spilling his guts out every time Richard crossed his mind. It took a lot of his energy just to tell them about the party when it happened, so there was no way he was going to continue to be vulnerable to them. Andrew had convinced himself he could handle his issues without talking to anybody else. Whether he was right to do that or not was debatable, however.

The band was doing good- Great, actually. They posted a music video for their cover of Rob Cantor’s I’m Gonna Win , and it was already at a around ten thousand views (everybody in their school and then some). Most people in school liked the band and their sound, and it actually launched the gang into quite the bit of popularity! Even Nazbol and Angel are starting to be recognized as part of the band rather than the usual pointing, giggling, and laughing that they’re used to receiving. They were really moving up in the world despite the emotional issues Andrew was facing. Even the infighting of the band was starting to lessen. Last band practice, Andy and James only argued for five minutes straight before giving up and starting. That’s nothing compared to the hour long arguing they used to do! 

Andrew perked up as his phone went off, quickly grabbing it to answer. His hopes were too high, and he couldn’t help but grimace when he saw it was just Karl calling. He answered, “What’s up?”

“Andrew, it is Karl Ommie.” Karl said, “I am checking to make sure that you are awake.”

“Karl, I have you in my contacts, you don’t have to fully announce yourself every damn time you call.” Andrew said.

“Yes, but are you awake?”

“... Yeah, Karl. I’m up.”

“Good. We are coming to get you. We are in Anne’s new car.”

“What?” Andrew stopped struggling to get his shoes on and looked out his window. “How the hell did Anne get a car?!” Of course he couldn’t see anything because they weren’t here yet, but he could hardly imagine Anne affording a car.

Karl said, “We are going to arrive at the bus stop in approximately six minutes. Please be ready. Goodbye.” He hung up, leaving Andrew in mystery over whatever this new car could look like. Surely it had to be a good car, otherwise Anne wouldn’t be using it and qui wouldn’t be able to pick everybody up. Andrew hoped the car wasn’t something too beat up or old, he didn’t want to look dumb. Riding the bus in your senior year was bad enough, but riding in a car that’s a piece of crap wasn’t any better.

He got on a soft, brown sweater, jeans, sneakers, and his black sunglasses before grabbing his bag and rushing downstairs. His dad said a goodbye to him, but Andrew didn’t reply as he went outside and walked to the bus stop. Just a few minutes and he would get to see this so-called “car” that Anne got quis hands on. Of course qui gets a car before I do. Whatever.  

There was a loud honk from around the corner, and Andrew stared in shock as a beat up PT Cruiser screeched as it revved its engine and pulled up to the bus stop. The engine was making a horrible rattling noise, the side of the car was scratched and dented, and one of the headlights was out. Andrew cringed and looked around before getting into the back of the car and squeezing in next to Karl, Nazbol, and Angel. Angel was sitting between Nazbol and Karl’s laps. James was sitting in the front seat fixing his hair in the mirror. The inside of the car wreaked of smoke and weed, despite there being three different air fresheners hanging from the cracked rearview mirror. 

“Hey, handsome! Whatcha think of the ride?” Anne laughed, turning the Dead Kennedys down on the radio. 

Andrew scoffed, “It’s… certainly something.” He sunk down in the seat, trying to get comfortable. “I feel like it’s going to break down any second.”

“I thought the same thing when I got in it an hour ago.” James cranked his window down a crack before pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag before relaxing in his seat. James had started smoking cigarettes a little after their first band practice, and now he always took a smoke break before school and after. That explains the smoke smell, thought Andrew. 

“I think the car is very nice!” Nazbol said with a grin, “It could be the Centricide Mobile!”

“We aren’t superheroes.” Karl said, “And it is Anne’s car, Nazbol.” Nazbol pouted, but was quickly cheered up by Angel pressing little kisses all over his face.

“I wouldn’t mind decking the car out in some stickers and branding.” Anne said, “I already ordered a couple bumper stickers online, super excited for those. Hey, Andrew, when’s your car getting out of the shop?” Qui looked in the rear view at Andrew.

“Oh, uh,” Andrew cleared his throat. “Soon. I’m getting it detailed and repainted and all of that stuff. Very soon.”

“What kind of car do you have?” James asked. Andrew panicked and tried to think of an answer. If I say something too expensive they’re not going to believe me, but if I say something too average then that will be too suspicious! What’s an in-between car? What kind of car does Richard have? Shoot, it was one of those fancy cars with the hood ornaments. What was the make?

“He’s got a m-m-mustang!” Angel said, nudging Andrew. The car oohed and awed, gossiping back and forth about how cool it would be to cruise around in a mustang. Andrew mouthed a thank you to Angel just as qui zoomed the car into the school parking lot and into a spot. 

The whole car shook as quis bumper hit the sidewalk. Qui winced, put the car in reverse, and carefully inched off of it. The scraping noise made everybody in the car cringe and look away from quem. Anne put the car in park and shut it off, looking at everybody with a nervous smile.

“Do you… have a license?” James asked.

Anne didn’t reply.

“I will drive next time.” Karl said, quickly gesturing for Nazbol and Angel to get out. Everybody pushed out of the car and stretched, trying to recover from how cramped the car was. 

Anne insisted, “I’m gonna get a license! I basically already know everything about driving, I just don’t have the cash to go take lessons.” Qui locked the car and shoved the key in quis pocket.

“That thing is a death trap even if you did have a license.” James said. “The fact that we’re alive is a miracle.” The gang walked into school together and briefly chatted more before splitting up to get to their lockers. Andrew put in his earbuds and put on his band playlist, a collection of songs he thought would be cool to play together with his friends. It was mostly stuff he enjoyed, pop and pop rock, but there were a few odd-ball songs that he added just because he knew the others would do a good job with it.

I have to tell them about the contest soon. Andrew began walking to class and shoved his hands in his pockets. We’re already so good, if we could pick one or two songs to settle on, we could crush any competition. Easily. And then all that sweet money is mine! He imagined gucci sweaters, iPhones, and in-ground swimming pools paved with gold cement. Anne passed him, waved, and went into one of the art classrooms with some of quis siblings. Well, ours. Still have to split it… I wonder if I could convince them to do a 60/40 deal.

School went on like usual and Andrew managed to round everybody up at the end of civics class and take hold of conversation. Usually the group just continued arguing about whatever the topic of class that day was, but Andrew was determined to get the group on the same page.

Andrew said, “Guys, I’ve got an amazing idea for our band.”

“If it is more propaganda to make you the leader, the answer is still no, kulak.” Karl said. 

“No, it’s not.” Andrew said, “It’s something even better, well, arguably.” He pulled out a folded up flier from his bag and slammed it on the table. “Ta-da!” The group leaned forward and looked at it, reading over the information.

Homer came over from the other side of the room, snatched the flyer, and read through it. He gasped, “Oh my god, a band contest?! This would be so cool! It’ll give you guys a huge boost and get you some recognition!”

“Playing in public?” Karl asked.

Anne followed up, “In front of everyone?”

“Yeah!” Andrew said, “Think about it, we get up there and blow everyone away with our amazing music skills, and we win and get the prize money! Then we split it.” 

“All of that money.” Karl said, “It could go to somebody less fortunate than us. Why should we compete?”

Anne whined, “What if we mess up and look like dorks? We’ve never even memorized a song before, let alone played through one without hiccups or issues.” 

Nazbol asked, “Would Angel and I get some of the money? That would be nice.”

Andrew waved his hand absentmindedly. “Yes, yes, whatever you guys want. Just please consider this, it would be so cool! We’ll get recognition, fame, money, and it would just be fun to try out!” He slid the flyer to James who had been pretty quiet. James looked at it and shook his head, going back to his phone. Geez, he’s just like Hans sometimes. Before Andrew could think about his old friends any longer the bell rang and they all started packing up.

“This isn’t the last time we’ll talk about this!” Andrew called as the group started to leave the room. “This could be big! So big!” He waved the flyer desperately, but they just blew him off and went to their classes. Andrew sighed and shoved the flyer in his bag. He looked up to see Randy giving him a sour look before leaving the room. Oh that stupid little weasel. Andrew fixed his sunglasses before heading out for his next class.

That night Andrew got everybody onto a discord call- (he would have preferred facetime, but they didn’t all have iphones, so this was the best bet)- and tried to convince them of the band contest once again. 

“Andrew’s got a super good point, guys, this contest would be so cool!” Homer said, “Even if you don’t win, which is unlikely, it’ll get you guys out there!”

Karl said, “We do not need the sponsorship or stardom of some organization or corporation, and, as I already have said, it is selfish and ridiculous to claim that prize money for ourselves when we are already well off. Andrew is rich, I come from  wealthy family, James is upper class White. The only ones that need that money are Anne and Angel.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about it and… I wouldn’t mind the money.” Anne said, “And I wouldn’t mind competing. I’m just worried about actually being good. We aren’t good.”

“What do you mean we aren’t good?” Andrew was half-listening and half-doing astronomy homework. He said, “We’re like, the coolest. What, you think we’re bad?”

“It’s not that we’re bad it’s that we aren’t prepared!” Anne said, “We haven’t found our sound. We just play covers we find online.”

“That’s why you guys practice.” Homer said. “With a little bit of elbow grease-“

James snapped, “It doesn’t matter if we practice and do our best. We’re just some teenagers. There are local bands that are better established and better equipped to do this sort of thing. We don’t stand a chance.”

“Don’t be so negative!” Homer sighed. “I will come over there and beat some sense into you.” James did a double take to his door to make sure it was locked and grabbed his knife from his desk drawer. He mumbled something about spitting Homer’s throat while the other simply giggled. 

Andrew set his pencil down and rubbed his eyes in frustration. He said, “We started this band for a reason, and I doubt it was to play in Karl’s garage forever. Don’t you guys want to at least see if the rest of the world sees our potential? Our video on YouTube is doing great already and we’ve only just begun!”

“The last thing I want is to be a laughing stock.” James said. 

“I agree.” Anne said, “I already get pushed around enough.”

Karl said, “Why do you want this so bad?”

“It would be so cool!” Andrew said, “To be recognized for something and be famous! Can you imagine it?”

“You do not need more money, kulak. You are already rich, you do not need more.”

“It’s not about that, the money is just a little perk!”
“Stop lying, kulak. These weak capitalists and anarchists may not see through your lies, but I do. You just want more money. I bet you do not even want to share the prize with us!”

“That’s not true!”

“It is true. You do not need more money, Andrew-:”

Andrew snapped, “You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t need! Is it so bad that for once I just want to be noticed for something! You try moving to a new school with no connections or friends!” He huffed and rubbed his face. “You act like I’m such a villain, I just want to do something cool for once!”

The group didn’t reply to that immediately. Andrew took a second to take some deep breaths and drink some of his red bull before picking up his pencil and resuming with his homework. He glanced at the screen to see James watching with concern, Karl embarassed, and Anne fiddling with some fidget toy on quis desk. Homer was the first to speak up, clearing his throat and sighing.

He said, “Guys, it’s basically confirmed that you’re a good band. Even if you don’t win, it’ll give you a ton of street cred… The money doesn’t even matter, forget it exists! No more money!”

“Yippee!” Anne giggled. Karl gave a small smile before shaking his head.

“I still do not understand this plan,” Karl said, “But I guess that we can give it a try… James, what do you think?” James shrugged, gently moving back and forth in his swivel chair. He sat up and cleared his throat just like Homer did. Andrew couldn’t help but smile at how similar they were.

James sighed, “I think the concert is… a wildly stupid idea. We will need to practice consistently, which some of us just don’t seem too dedicated to do, and this could also cause a lot of stress and tension onto our friend group, leading to disbanding of the band and possible disbanding of our… friend group, for lack of a better term.” He fixed his hair in the reflection of the camera and continued. “But I think we should do it. It feels right. Like a calling.”

“A calling,” Andrew repeated, leaning back. “That’s exactly what it is.”

“Are we talking a spiritual calling or like a physical calling? We’re on a calling right now, yeah?” Anne giggled again, covering quis mouth. The group began to wonder if qui was high. 

Karl spoke quickly before Anne could say any more ridiculous nonsense. “Whatever it is, it sounds like we all want to do it, somewhat… Shall we meet for practice tomorrow to further discuss the plans?”

“Oh, let’s go to the mall!” Andrew said quickly, “The music shop there is where we sign up for the contest, and we could get something to eat there too.” Karl and James grumbled about leaving the house, but the rest seemed relatively on board. And so the mall it was.

-----

Anne had wasted ten minutes waiting in the Auntie Anne’s line to get food and a slushie, Andrew had briefly ditched the group when he got distracted by a Banana Republic outlet, Karl had gone on a search for a bathroom, Nazbol and Angel ran through the kids play area and then into a Barnes and Noble, and James had accompanied Homer to the Spencers (meaning he sat on the bench outside the store and tweeted about how disgusting its display of sexual conduct and drug usage was). They had been in the mall for two hours before they even thought about meeting up, and by the time Homer remembered he was manager and rounded up the crew, it was already close to dinner time.

Homer, carrying several shopping bags, huffed, “Okay, where’s this little music shop we’re supposed to be signing up at? I swear I didn’t even see it on the directory.”

“It’s a small little place on the second floor, down on this North end of the building.” Karl said, “I passed by it while trying to find a restroom that was not so populated with teenagers.” He shuddered at the thought of the innocent teenagers standing on phones or vaping. Karl hated other teenagers with a passion, they just didn’t have the intellect that he had! He looked at Anne, who was scarfing down quis last pretzel, which was covered in cheese. Karl asked, “Did you save any for the rest of us, comrade?”

Anne said through a mouth full of food, “Oh, uh, fuck, man, I- I got some of this one left!” He held out the cheesy, salty mess. Karl simply laughed and shook his head, waving a hand at quem.

“I am kidding, please.” He said.

Andrew was glancing up towards the top floor. He could just barely see the entryway of the music shop and was tapping his foot with impatience, despite the fact that he had stalled in stores just as long as the rest of the group. Before he could open his mouth to insist they needed to go, he heard an annoying voice call out to him.

“Well, if it isn’t the political psychopaths!” Randy greeted, walking up with two friends by his side. One of them was the dumb centrist from social studies, Lee, slightly hunched as he clutched a Barnes and Noble bag to his chest. The other was a goth-type boy with long black hair and eyes glued to his phone. Randy said, “I thought the mall would have kicked out ruffians like you.”

Homer teased, “Oh my god, you are so funny!” He twirled a lock of hair around his finger and looked Randy up and down. “I had no idea virgin convention was in town, but here you are!” James snorted a bit but tried to act like he didn’t. 

Andrew stood up from their spot at the food court table and turned around to face Randy. He snapped, “What do you want, Cent? You’re stinking up the whole food court with your dandruff-ridden hair and sweaty armpits!”

Randy scoffed and replied, “Not that it’s any of your business considering it’s far above what you could comprehend, but we’re here to sign up for an important upcoming event.”

“No fucking way!” Anne threw down quis pretzel on the table and shouted, “You aren’t fucknig signing up for the band contest, that’s our thing!” Karl gently put a hand on Anne’s back and guided quem back down into quis chair. 

The goth boy on Randy’s left moved some hair from his face and snapped, “You idiots don’t even look like you know what a chord is. You’re seriously playing in a band?”

“Uh, yeah!” Homer said, “And it’s literally the best damn band on the face of the planet and it’s going to tank any sorry excuse for music your pathetic asses can do, got it?!” He snapped his fingers at the group. James looked away in embarassment, wishing he were an only child.

Randy clicked his tongue. He sighed sarcastically, “Oh, well, maybe you’re right. Come on, Neil. Lee. Let’s just leave.” He immediately began heading to the escalator with the other two in tow. Anne scrambled out of quis seat, shoving past Karl and Andrew to get at them.

“No, Anne!” Karl scolded, grabbing quis sleeve. “Don’t! No violence!”

“I’m not gonna attack them, they’re gonna sign up for the contest before we do! Look!” The group followed where Anne was pointing to see that the escalator led right up to the music shop. They could see Randy laughing at them and pointing from the escalator, already a quarter of the way up.

Like scattering rats, the entire group raced to grab their things and jump up from their food court table. Practically trampling over themselves and other mall patrons, they raced to find the fastest ways up to the music shop. The elevator, the stairs, even up the escalator Randy and his goons were already on. Andrew took the escalator, going up two steps at a time and shoving past the group, only to be pulled back down by Randy. Randy huffed in frustration as he struggled to keep Andrew down from the top of the escalator. Neil seemed uninterested, determined to keep his eyes on his phone and away from the tussle. Lee yelled in surprise and continued yelling in confusion, unsure if he should break them up or help Randy keep Andrew down the steps.

Andrew was slapping and hitting at Randy as much as he could, even digging his nails into Randy’s wrists to get him to let go. He hissed, “You are so stupid ! You dumb fucking- dumb bitch !” Randy ignored his insults and suddenly raised his leg and kicked him down, sending Andrew stumbling back another quarter of the escalator. He yelped and winced as he scraped his face and hands against the metal of the steps. Randy laughed and Lee tried to awkwardly laugh with him, though clearly mortified.

“On your left!” James shouted as he ran past Andrew and tackled Randy down just as they got to the top of the esclator. Randy was knocked down, hitting his head against the linoleum floor past the escalator. James jumped past him, wasting no time as he ran into the music shop at the same time as Homer, who simply took the stairs like a normal person. Anne and Karl had disappeared to the nearby elevator and hadn’t been spotted again since, and Nazbol and Angel were slowly going up the elevator with most if not all of the group’s groceries and food items.

Randy shouted, “You are absolutely going to regret- Ah!” He gasped as he tried to get up, only to fall back down. He scrambled to see what the issue was, only to find that the bottom of his shirt, on the back, had been caught where the elevator goes back into the floor and circles to the bottom. It began to consume his shirt from the botttom up, guzzling it down with no hesitation or mercy. Randy screamed in panic as he tried to rip apart the shirt, but failed. When that didn’t work, he took his only other way out and took his shirt completely off. It got sucked into the escalator with a loud fffpp sound, and the escalator then stuttered before completely halting its movements.

Andrew teased, “Aw, did you need that?” Randy covered his chest, slightly insecure as he was laughed at by the surrounding mall guests. He huffed and grabbed Lee, forcefully stripping him of his coat and putting it on.

“This isn’t over!’ Randy shouted at Andrew, “I will win the battle of the bands ii I will beat you and I will ruin your life, Andrew, just you wait! Come on, guys.” He shoved his hands in his pockets before getting off the escalator and heading for the farthest exit away from the psychopaths. As he was walking away with Neil and Lee in tow, he turned his head and snapped, “I will find your weakness, Andrew, mark my words!”

Andrew watched Randy go for a minute, a nervous feeling in his chest. There’s no way he would find out my secret. I’ve got that locked up tight… It’s fine, Andrew, come on. Relax. He took a deep breath and slowly stood up from the broken esclator steps just as Nazbol and Angel caught up to him at the top.

“Are y-you okay, Andrew? That was q-q-quite the fall.” Angel reached up and touched Andrew’s cheek. “You’re bleeding a little!”

Nazbol swore under his breath and pulled a little first aid kit from his backpack. “Those stupid centrists will regret hurting you! We will strip them down and lynch them for their crimes against us!” He got a crazed look in his eyes as he grinned and thought about the murder of the centrists. Angel excitedly waved his hands and nodded along with Nazbol’s threats/

James came out of the music shop and announced, “We’re signed up! We’re actually only the third band on the list. I put down Centricide as the band name and Homer put his phone number down for contact information.”

“Yes!” Andrew punched the air and laughed triumphantly. “This is going to be so cool! You guys won’t regret this, I promise, it’s going to be great!” He got off the escalator, finally, and ran to hug James and Homer. Anne and Angel excitedly joined in the hug, and Nazbol and Karl couldn’t help but join in too with how happy they all looked. James, sandwiched in the middle of the hug, clenched his fists and tried not to gag at the physical affection.

Anne declared, “We should all go get ice cream! We’ve earned it for our hard work!”

“We literally just signed up, we have made zero progress, anarkiddy-”

“To the ice cream!”

“But-”

“ICE CREAM!”

The group all went out for ice cream and excitedly discussed their plans for the band contest.