Precursor:
I have not written the original chapters of this story. Instead, I elected to write this little work here in which I have been advised to acknowledge the talented PierceSawyer744 for his work on the first three chapters. If you have not yet, I highly recommend you read that before reading this and any future chapters I publish. With that in mind, this is an unofficial continuation. Generally, an author has both the original author's consent and a deep understanding of his or her story and intentions for the future of their characters when they write a continuation of someone else's work. Having neither of those things, I caution you that this may not line up with what the original author wanted for this story and its characters, and was not originally intended to be published. Everything written here is my own work, and as such, contains only my own views on its characters and plot.
I also want to mention here that this story is, quite inescapably, based around a gay romance. If such content offends you, you are advised to leave promptly. You may consider this your first and last warning.
Chapter 4: The Morning After
An alarm went off somewhere. Having been awake for the past several hours, Farkle didn't mind this disturbance as much as his peers did.
"Wh...what time is it," Charlie moaned, still half-asleep.
"8:30," Lucas replied, almost immediately. The events of the previous night had robbed him of any sleep.
Farkle did not want to get out of the warm embrace of his blankets. Morning meant dealing with everything that had happened last night. Morning meant facing Lucas, knowing that nothing could happen between them. Not again.
So he laid there for a few minutes that stretched into an eternity in his mind, the weight of his heart pinning him to his sheets. He tried thinking of everything else he knew, which took considerable time and effort, but everything always lead back to Lucas. Everything lead back to the kiss they'd shared the night before, to the pain of knowing that the most incredible thing he'd ever experienced was no more permanent than lines in the sand.
Zay rose first and, like a pack of chimps, everyone else soon followed. Forgetting what had happened the night before, he asked, "who's got my underwear?"
"Whoa, what kind of party did I miss?" No one had noticed Farkle's mother walk in. "And why is Lucas wearing lipstick?"
"We might've played truth or dare for a little while," Lucas explained with a soft chuckle.
"Right...well, I've got pancakes downstairs whenever you boys are ready," she replied, and left to return to the kitchen.
Soon everyone, having checked that they were wearing their own underwear, clambered into the train to make their way to the kitchen. No one but Farkle really knew which downstairs they were headed to, but they soon stopped counting and replaced the activity with talking amongst themselves.
Lucas stole a few glances at Farkle while they were moving. He knew he couldn't meet his eyes, but he couldn't stop thinking about him. Everything about this was new, and everything about it hurt when he remembered that they had both agreed that nothing could happen. Why did they owe it to anyone to not be together? He had denied himself of too much for too long. This...this was something that he couldn't let go of.
The train arrived at its destination shortly, and Farkle helped people onto the platform in their kitchen. There, a table long enough for a group twice their size was set with plates and dishes piled high with pancakes, a drizzle of syrup running down the sides of each magnificent tower. Closer to the table, trays decorated with eggs, sausage, and bacon waited to be sampled from. The boys sat down eagerly and waited politely to begin their meal, but ate ravenously once everyone had settled in.
"Ok," Dave began, "these are delicious, but we can all agree that waffles are better than pancakes, right?"
"What kind of fool thinks waffles are better than pancakes?" Charlie fired back. "Waffles are so unsatisfying. They're full of air pockets."
This set off a debate of epic proportions. Everyone took a side, and everyone fought passionately in support of their chosen breakfast food. Civil wars have been fought with fewer casualties than the Battle of the Breakfasts. Friends turned against one another, and after half an hour of arguing, no victor had emerged. Locked into a stalemate, everyone agreed to return to Farkle's room and play more party games until they had to leave.
Over the smooth melody of the train gliding on the tracks, the group discussed what they would do with the rest of their day.
"Why don't we end it the way we started it? I say we play some truth or dare," Yogi suggested.
"I'm down," Lucas replied, and the whole group gave their consent. Everyone except Farkle.
Last time, he let some dangerous information slip to Lucas and Zay. It was nearly much worse, but he avoided an awkward question by playing dare every turn. This time, though, he had a feeling that that wouldn't be an option.
The train slowed as it approached the station closest to Farkle's room, and with it, Farkle's heart rate skyrocketed. Adrenaline raged through his veins, making him shake violently by the time they stopped.
Everyone got out of the train one by one, each person waiting for the next to exit. Once they were all assembled, the group began heading towards Farkle's room. With every step, he could feel an inch of dirt being dug from his grave. The crowd was silent as everyone thought out punishments for their victims, adding an ominous air to the hallway.
They soon reached the door, and he froze just before the entrance for a few precious moments. He was loved. His friends were right beside him, and he was loved. Having made his peace with that, he slowly pushed the door open: six feet deep.
The crowd filed in, and the game was on.
"So, who's going first?" Charlie questioned.
"I'll do it," Lucas volunteered. "Dare."
"Alright, Friar. I dare you to wear your underwear on your head for the rest of the game." At this point, everyone expected him to go into Farkle's closet to change. But Lucas had other plans.
Right there, he pulled the left side of his underwear down his leg, and brought it back up to slide the whole thing off his right leg without removing his shorts. Then, to the applause of the entire room, he crowned himself with his own waistband.
Farkle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, more turned on by what he had just seen than he cared to admit.
"Alright, Zay," Lucas continued, "truth or dare?"
"I'm feelin' a dare right now."
Wanting revenge on Charlie for his new headdress, Lucas took a moment to carefully craft his dare. "Rest your head in Charlie's lap for the next two rounds."
"Wait," Charlie objected, "that seems like it's a little aimed at me."
"You're closest," Lucas defended. "Besides, we're all playing the same game. What's the problem?"
With that, Charlie reluctantly consented, and Zay slowly lowered his head into his lap.
"Ok," Zay began, muffled by Charlie's crotch, "truth or dare, Farkle?"
"Dare," Farkle responded, his cheeks turning red.
"I dare you to tell me the truth. Who's this guy you have feelings for?" Zay demanded.
"Come on Zay, that's not fair," Lucas interrupted.
"What's the matter, Friar? We're all playing the same game here, after all. He'll have to answer eventually," Charlie retorted.
"But..." Lucas tried, as he scrambled to find a defense for his friend.
"That's what I thought. Alright then, out with it Farkle. We won't judge."
He was completely frozen, unable to respond in any way. His eyes moved around the room, and eventually settled on Lucas, who turned away to adjust his helmet. Everyone soon realized that he wasn't turning to look at anyone else.
The room was silent for what felt like an eternity.
"Lucas?" Zay finally asked.
Farkle closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek, and nodded his response.
Silence resumed, and every eye turned to look at Lucas. All he could do was stare at the ground, afraid to look up.
Next chapter expected Sep. 20th. Got comments or suggestions for the story? Leave a review and let me know!
