Chapter Text
It’s really fucking cold, Drew decides, despite how warm the atmosphere around him supposedly was according to his friends. Wasn’t it March? How could spring be frostbitten? Nonetheless, the highschooler was outside. On a walk, of sorts, he depicted it as just that. So what if Stacy and him were walking together in awkward silence?
He could say something like, oh, it’s cold, but then he’d sound stupid to himself. And if he sounded stupid to himself, God forbid what Stacy would think of him. He probably already was stupid in her eyes. He’s friends with Henry for god’s sake.
But the main reason why he doesn’t have the courage to speak, let words fly from his tongue, is because Stacy’s happy gaze alone is enough to fill any paragraph.
Wait. Shit.
He was
not
in fact, admiring the way her eyes softened at the clouded, yet sun cast sky, and definitely would never feel a twitch in his pocketed hand to hold hers. That’s what he chooses to believe and that is all. No questions.
Yet
.
Fuck, he almost slaps himself for adding that. “Drew?” She calls out, and snaps him from his overthinking– “Are you okay?” Her voice is genuine. Seeing his slow reaction, she continues, “You’re zoning out a lot.” Even when she’s worried, a little smile graces her face.
“Fine.” He scoffs, “So, anyways…” He tries to leech onto what few words of dialogue he manages to scour from the back of his throat, “Want to grab a coffee?” Drew instantly feels like curling in a ball of self-hatred, because that is such a dumb and cliche thing to say. Something that Henry’d try to woo Lia with, then cry to his boyfriend about when it failed. (He understands that sentence contradicts itself, but he decides that it’s all Henry’s fault for being so stupid.)
But maybe Stacy likes dumb cliches, because she happily nods her head to his question, “Of course! It’s pretty chilly out here, isn’t it?” Her voice chimes, a smile spreading across her face like the most beautiful plague Drew’s– He needs to shut the fuck up, and so he blames a subtle blush on the (clouded) sun.
But he hides all those annoying, useless over introspective thoughts to laugh sarcastically– “Yeah, it’s so annoying.” He comments, only earning a low hum from Stacy.
So they make their way to the coffee shop, and when they order and sit down, they’re still talking. A world record for Drew, an average Sunday for Stacy. And maybe if Drew was any normal person, this wonderful occasion wouldn’t be ruined.
Because of course, Zoey is there. She smiles and tilts her head, but no words come out besides a side-whisper to her friend. And that, Drew decides, is enough to send him over the edge. When he goes up to order, he asks for an extra-hot espresso. “Espresso? Oh, neat! I didn’t know you liked–”
He’s nothing like he was just a few moments ago. What once was hidden fondness and a cocky, yet genuine smile is now a bitter lack of empathy. Stacy says nothing. He might leave her if she says too much, she thinks, so it’s not a problem.
It isn’t a problem.
It isn’t a problem…
It isn’t a problem! –
A cup falls to the floor, and there is a shriek that echoes through the cafe. Zoey’s porcelain skin stained with black caffeine. Drew’s little smile. The emptied cup by the floor. Her ruined shoes, day, makeup, and outfit.
It brings Stacy immense worry.
It brings Drew immense joy.
“Oh my god! You psychopath!” She cried out, tears beginning to spill from the burns, “You’re— you’re insane, loser!” And it hits Drew, that maybe that “harmless” idea wasn’t so harmless. That Zoey was actually hurt by something he did after all the harm she inflicted on him. It wasn’t a question– it was fact that Zoey had been hurt. Her skin was beginning to blister as staff tried to clean her up, her friend anxiously looking away.
Oh, right, her friend isn’t even helping because nobody really likes Zoey, do they? Yeah. So, she deserves it. Drew thinks, nodding his head and fakely apologizing that he’d never seen this “blondie” before.
Stacy’s horrified– She knew that wasn’t an accident. It was so unnatural– from the way he “fell” perfectly by her, caught himself and managed to spill the drink in one motion. If she wasn’t concerned for Zoey, she might’ve thought it impressive.
And then he returns to normal. His smug grin is the same, his eyes half lidded with both morbid joy and normalcy. Strange, Stacy can't seem to fathom that the person in front of her is capable of such an act.
The rest of the evening is spent in silence and small talk.