Fruits of Chaos
By: Hotaru
Notes: My first attempt at a Breakfast Club fic. x_x
Metallica's "And Justice for All" blared on his headphones as John Bender tore into a slab of concrete with a jack hammer. Dust rose all around him, and floated about the construction site until he turned the thing off to take a break. "Yo! Bender, coffee's done!" A fellow worker shouted from a small shack that served as a rest area. Bender nodded and pulled off his hard hat and tossed it to the floor. The sun blazed high in the noon sky as he shuffled towards the shed. Shoving the door open, he staggered inside towards the coffee machine.
"Hey man, you okay? You look like shit." Bender's friend Roy said from the couch.
"Yeah, I do. Now I know what it feels like to be you." Bender retorted, in a joking manner and poured the hot black liquid into a styrofoam cup.
"Damn! What's with the reception on this piece of junk!" Someone shouted, smacking the top of the t.v.
"Maybe the channel's screwed up. Change it." A guy suggested. Bender rolled his neck tiredly and rested against the wall.
"And tragedy strikes a small town in Illinois. A young student, Brian Johnson, has died. Police responded to the student's home when his mother frantically called 911 when she found the boy laying on the floor. It has not yet been determined whether or not the death was a suicide--"
"Nothing but the news? Change it." The man was about to change the channel when Bender stopped him.
"Wait...leave it." He said, staring at the fuzzy picture on the screen of a boy had known several years ago.
"Drugs were found in the boy's system, and people close to the family say that he had been having personal problems recently. The family is holding a funeral this Friday at six thirty p.m. at the Harmony Funeral Home in Shermer, Illinois. They are encouraging any friends and school mates of the boy to please attend and may their respects. Tragic story, isn't it Tom?"
Bender stepped back, slightly in shock. "Yo, Bender, you knew this guy?" Roy asked.
"Yeah...shit." He swallowed, his throat tightening up. "I can't believe this..."
"You okay?" Roy continued. Bender shook his head. "You goin' to the funeral?"
"I don't know..." /I guess he found someone else to get it from.../
~
In a big artist's loft, Allison Reynolds stared at a large, blank canvas. She was currently thinking about what to paint for an upcoming exhibit. Her phone rang, jarring her from her thoughts. Running her hand through her short hair, she picked up the phone.
"Hello?" She said, not interested in talking.
"Allison, it's Janet. Brian...he..." It was Janet Johnson, the mother of a friend of her's.
"What? What's wrong?" Allison questioned.
"He overdosed sometime during the night."
"Oh my God...is he in the hospital?"
"No..he's...dead.."
The phone slipped from Allison's hand and her mouth opened in shock. Her friend, the only person from high school that she still talked to, was dead.
"I'm sorry...is there anything I can do?" She asked, picking the phone back up.
"No..the funeral is all scheduled..It's this Friday at six thirty at Harmony. Please try to make it." A resounding click told Allison that Mrs. Johnson had hung up. Numbly, Allison hung up the phone and grabbed a tube of forest green paint and stained the bottom of the canvas. She had her inspiration.
~
At Chicago International Airport, two stewardesses walked off of a plane that had landed roughly an hour before. "Man, I'm starving." Claire Standish exclaimed to her friend, and fellow stewardess, Amy Steinberg.
"Airplane food not to your liking?" Amy questioned.
"Not up to my standards."
"But airport food is?"
Claire chuckled and shrugged. "It'll do." The two walked to a restaurant and ordered a small meal. Claire picked up a newspaper that had been sitting on a nearby table.
"What are you doing?" Amy asked, looking up from her nails.
"Looking for my horoscope. I wonder if it says anything about that cute guy that was flirting with me." Claire replied, before opening the page she was looking at. "Oh my God."
"What! What does it say?!" Amy asked excitedly.
Shaking her head, Claire read an article about the recent death of a college student. "Claire, what?" Amy questioned.
"Someone I knew died last night."
"Oh...who?"
"Brian Johnson. We went to the same high school."
"A friend of yours?"
"Not quite."
"So why are you so upset, then? You barely knew the guy!" Amy said, waving at her friend.
"The funeral is coming up. I think I should go." Claire said, ignoring the other girl. /I wonder if he'll be there../
~
Andrew Clark stood in the gymnasium of his college, staring at the bleachers. They would soon be filled with excited wrestling fans, eager to see him pin his opponents in record time. They didn't care what he thought, whether or not he was happy "rolling around on the floor with other guys" as someone so eloquently put it once. A small smile crept to his face at the memory.
"Andy! Yo, Andrew!"A voice shouted, echoing in the large gym.
"Yeah?" He questioned, turning slightly.
"Some guy's on the phone for you." It was his room mate.
"Who?"
"I don't know but he kept referring to himself as Coach."
"Oh..alright. Tell him I'll be right there." Andy replied, taking one last look around the gym before heading to his room.
When he got there, he hesitantly picked up the phone receiver and held it against his head. "Hello?" He said finally.
"Hey! There's Shermer High's brightest wrestlin' star!" A voice exclaimed.
"Hey coach. What's going on?" Andy greeted, flopping into a chair.
"I heard you're up against Woodrow tomorrow!"
"Yeah." /What's this guy want?/
"I ran into your old man yesterday. He's pretty damn excited!"
"I bet. I'm living out his dream, afterall."
"Listen, a kid that used to go to Shermer 'bout the same time as you died recently. You hear about it?" Coach said lowly.
"No. Who was it?" Andrew questioned, leaning forward in his chair.
"The news said that he overdosed or something. Kinda tragic. All the teachers here were saying what a good student he was. Shame, real shame."
Andrew sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose."Is 'at right?" He muttered. /Can't he just tell me who the dead beat was?/
"Yeah. I'm tryin' to remember his name...Jones...John..Johnson! Brian Johnson, that's right!"
"What?! Brian Johnson? He..died?" Andrew exclaimed.
"Oh, you knew him eh? He wasn't really your type of friend, you know?"
"I can't believe it. How'd he die?"
"Overdose. Didn't I say that?" Coach repeated.
"Drugs? No...he wasn't into that kinda thing." Andy said, shaking his head.
"The family's having a funeral Friday at six, I think, if you're looking to pay your respects."
"Yeah..thanks. Look, I gotta go."
"But we haven't talked about the match yet!"
"Sorry, coach. Bye." /Will she.../
Harmony Funeral Home
Friday
The smell of fresh flowers lingered and floated through the air as the guests filed into the funeral home. Mostly family gathered to pay their respects to the young boy, but a few friends were there as well.
It wasn't until later on that they started to notice each other. When Allison Reynolds unveiled a huge painting of Brian that she had only finished that morning. "I guess now I will never forget his face." She said with a sad smile. She didn't notice the jock staring at her. The criminal, or princess either. She was still too busy grieving.
Mrs. Johnson went up to the podium and thanked everyone for coming. "I'm sure that Brian is happy up in heaven, knowing that so many people will miss him." She paused. "Everyone is invited to go down to McGailey's tavern for a few drinks in Brian's memory."
Andrew Clark made his way through the thicket of people trying to leave the funeral home, as he tried to get to Allison. He broke through, tripping on a chair and stumbled into a clearing. Allison turned from her painting. "Oh...Andrew..you came." She said, tugging on her hair subconsciously.
"Yeah. I figured it was the least I could do." He replied, wishing he had said something else. "So you and him kept in touch, huh?"
"Yeah. He was going through a lot of problems recently. I didn't see this coming, though."
"Andrew. Hey, Andy." A voice called from the back of the room. The two watched as a bright red head made her way towards them.
"Claire? What are you doing here?"Andrew asked, giving her a short hug.
"I read about it in the paper...it's terrible. Hey..Allison." She replied.
Allison merely waved, and looked away, once again feeling out of place. Her eyes connected with someone else's. Someone she didn't think she'd ever see again. Ignoring the two old friends, she wandered over to greet John Bender.
"Hey stranger." She said with a slight smile.
"Nice painting. You and him go out?" Bender questioned, nodding at the canvas.
"No. Just friends. I didn't think you'd be here."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing...considering Claire and Andrew are here too."
Bender raised an eyebrow. "Claire's here?" He questioned.
"Mm-hm. Up there." Allison pointed to the duo near the casket where Brian's body was encased.
"Well, well, well. We're all together again!" Bender said loudly, raising his arms and starting towards the two. Claire and Andrew's head's shot up. Claire's eyes widened.
"What's he doing here?" Andy whispered.
"All through high school, and even after our lovely detention, you guys ignored the poor nerd. Now that he's dead, you feel guilty and attend his funeral, pretending like he was your friend." Bender greeted.
"You're no better." Claire retorted.
"Why don't we all get something to drink? We can...talk." Andy suggested, trying to prevent an argument from starting.
"...You buyin'?" Bender questioned.
"Yeah, why not?"
Bender wrapped an arm around Andrew's shoulders. "Alright." He smiled. Claire rolled her eyes, as she and Allison followed the two men out. They got a table at McGailey's tavern, and a round of beers were placed in front of them.
tbc