()()()

"This place is still nasty."

Duncan shrugged in response, closing the door behind him and tossing the key onto the dresser. "You didn't expect it to clean itself, did you?"

The girl raised an eyebrow, dropping the pillows she had retrieved from her car at the head of her bed. "No, but I'd hoped I would be in too good a mood to notice the mess. Though, I suppose, my opponent was less than compatible, so winning didn't do all too much for my pride." She smirked in his direction.

"You didn't even win by that much."

Courtney's lower lip protruded mockingly. "Aw, is Duncan's poor ego bruised? Getting defensive? And yes, actually, I did win by that much. The scoreboards don't lie."

"Well, then, you were cheating."

"Oh—I did not cheat!"

Duncan snickered. "It was a joke. Relax, Princess. Though," he paused, thinking. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"I do not cheat." She scoffed, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah? Well, what if you were losing?"

Courtney fixed Duncan with a strange look, as though she didn't understand the word. "Why would I be losing?"

At that, Duncan laughed. A loud laugh. And for a moment, he thought he saw the corners of Courtney's quirk. But the second passed, and her eyebrows drew together again.

"Did you lock the door?"

Laughter subsiding, Duncan followed Courtney's gaze. He shook his head.

"What? Oh— Nah, I didn't think—"

"That's not surprising." She cut in with a mutter, slipping past the boy and moving to latch the door. Duncan gritted his teeth, irked, but chose to hold his tongue. It didn't matter anyway. He was 'choosing his battles', so to speak. Though it didn't seem to make a difference with the girl— she could pick a fight out of thin air. She always had an opinion, a theory, an idea on something. And as simple as the concept could be, there was always passion within her.

Passion. That was one way to describe it.

And in a way, he liked that about her. There were moments when he wanted to tease her, to poke and prod until the fire sparked in her eyes, until her nose scrunched, until warmth ran to her face and turned red with some kind of blaze. And she would snap at him and speak to him in ways that he had never been spoken to before. She was reckless and wild in her feelings, tactless, blunt, and she wouldn't restrain herself for him. She was fearless, Duncan had to give her that.

Though, most of the things she burned over were petty. Silly things, things the girl shouldn't have cared about anyway, never mind blow up over. Duncan couldn't begin to understand why she made such a big deal over misconduct, over grades, over punctuality, or any of the other things she rambled on about long after he had finished listening. She was confusing that way, a little alien to him. And, he supposed, a little more interesting. Maybe. Just a little, anyway. Not all that much.

But there were several things he still wanted to know. And, not really concerned with any emotional trauma he might cause her, decided to voice one of them.

"Hey, just a question— does Bridgette know where you are?"

The girl was caught off guard, and turned from where she bent over her open suitcase to glance at him. "Excuse me?"

Duncan passed his tongue over his lips. "I said, does Bridgette—"

"No, I heard you"—she cut in, voice suddenly a snap—"but how is that any of your business?"

Courtney snatched the toothbrush from her bag and stalked off to the washroom. Knowing he had hit a delicate spot, Duncan grabbed his own toothbrush and followed her inside.

"Well," the boy mused as he stuck the bristles under the running tap and smearing them with Crest, "I really should know. It's not good to keep secrets."

"Urg—" Courtney yanked the toothbrush out of her mouth and scrunched her nose. Duncan smiling at the gesture knowingly. "Why do you inshish on knowing everyfing?" She paused to spit in the sink, clearing herself of the lisp. "You're like a little child. Why? Why? Oh, come on Courtneyyy! Tell me whyyy! Grow up, Duncan! Not everything applies to you!" She stuck the brush back into her mouth and moved it vigorously.

The impression made Duncan laugh around the foam in his cheeks, and he too spat in the sink. "Alright, okay, I see that. Don't tell me. You've already answered my question, anyway. A little too defensive there, Princess."

"Wha—? Oh!" Courtney growled and narrowed her eyes at Duncan. "You don't know anyfing!"

"I know you left without telling your best friend."

"Shuh up!"

"Wait— does she not know anything? You didn't tell her anything about your parents, did you?"

"I shaid, shuh up!"

"That's pretty bad, you know. I thought you guys were close and stuff…"

Aggravated, Courtney finally pulled the toothbrush out and rinsed her mouth. "I already told you, it's none of you business!"

Duncan turned on the faucet, and raised an eyebrow. "You can say that as much as you want, but you'll still be a jerk."

The girl's lips parted. "I'm not a jerk, I just—haven't—gotten to call her yet. That's all! I'm going to, though. I am! But you aren't one to talk, anyway—do your parents know where you are? Huh? No, they don't."

"Like I care. They aren't home, anyway. They have this thing up in Toronto."

Courtney pushed out of the washroom and slipped her things into her suitcase. "You aren't one to talk, then."

"Yeah, but Bridgette will hate you for it, whereas I don't care if my parents hate me. My dad has been pushing to send me to military camp since I was seven." Duncan wandered over to his bed and settled into the squeaky mattress.

Standing, Courtney flickered her glance over at him and placed her hands on her hips in a kind of 'power stance'. "Really? You honestly think I'm the person to complain about your parents to?"

Maybe not.

"Why not? It might be the one thing we have in common."

She scoffed. "I don't think so. You don't know anything about what my parents are like."

Duncan's eyebrow rose, and his head tilted to the side. "Oh? How do you know my parents aren't abusive?"

"Because if they were, you wouldn't ask so many questions."

They watched one another for a minute, before Duncan's lips slipped into a sly smile. "You're really smart, you know that?"

Courtney's eyes slid away.

"Yeah, actually. I do."

And with those words she dropped onto the bed and pressed her back into the comforter. Her eyes roamed the ceiling, her fingers brushed the fabric beneath her, and it was a moment before either teen spoke.

"If you call you parents… I'll call Bridgette." Courtney craned her neck to share a glance with Duncan. "Alright?"

It was the impatience in her voice, he supposed, the kind of passion that made his reach for his phone.

"Yeah, sure. Why the hell not?"


Duncan didn't go to English class very often, but when he did, he liked to be in his seat. It was perfect: right at the back, near the window, and not surrounded by people that pissed him off. The desk itself was even embellished with his signature skull. So when he cruised into class that Monday, he was less than pleased to see the spot occupied.

Since the beginning of that year, it had been his seat. His seat. It was one of the ways he had differentiated himself from his ninth-grade peers, the way he had made his mark. Anyone who didn't recognize that would pay the price.

So the boy cleared his throat briefly, loosened his shoulders and sauntered over to his spot. A crowd had formed around the desk: its occupant seemed to be pretty popular for a new kid. But as Duncan grew nearer to the inevitable warzone, he noted the sudden shift in the crowd, their unease. Some of them scattered; most of them merely backed up, nervous but eager to see what would happen.

He planted his palms on the desk with a nice smacking noise, something to put this new kid at unease. A pair of eyes flicked up, and the kid grinned.

"Hey, man, nice to meet—"

"Knock knock."

The boy's eyebrows drew together with confusion.

"Uh, what?"

Duncan cleared his throat loudly, obnoxiously, and repeated: "Knock, knock."

New Kid, not sure of what to, glanced around at the other students. A few stared blankly, but one, out of encouragement, shouted, "Just answer him, man!"

So New Kid did as directed. "Uh, who's there, dude?"

"Urine."

"Um, urine who?"

At that, Duncan leant forward. He wanted New Kid to hear him, and hear him well.

"Urine my Goddamn seat."

And Duncan leant back, and watched as the boy just stared. Stared straight ahead, his lips parted, his face blank. And for a split second, Duncan wondered if he'd killed the boy just like that, out of pure fright.

But then New Kid's lips drew back, and his eyes flickered wildly, and he let loose a string of laughter that flooded the room.

"Oh—ha! I—ha! I get it! It's like, you know, like, you're in! You know? Like, urine, and then, you're in? Because I'm in your seat, right?Ha— I get it! Aw, man, that's freakin' hilarious! Aw man, aw man… Oh—here's your seat back…" And the boy stood from the desk, still snickering, and nodded his head towards the carvings. "Did you do those? They're pretty sick."

Still not entirely sure of what had happened, nor how he should react, Duncan slipped into his desk uncertainly. "Yeah. I decided to personalize it."

"Cool, man." New Kid grinned, and Duncan felt himself slowly smile back. Maybe this guy wasn't too bad. He knew how to take a joke, at least. "Hey, d'you mind if I grab this desk?" He gestured to the one beside Duncan. The boy shrugged in response.

"I usually put my shit there, but go ahead."

New Kid bobbed his head amusedly and slouched into the seat, traces of laughter still bubbling up to the surface.

"It's Geoff, by the way."

"Duncan."

()()()

"Woah—woah—woah. Who is that?"

Duncan followed his friend's gaze across the cafeteria. "Bridgette? What about her?"

Geoff's lips had parted, and his eyes looked as though they might start to mist if he didn't blink soon. "Is she dating anyone?"

"I don't know." Duncan eyed his friend wearily. "Don't you think you should get to know her before you start thinking about dating her? She's into all this environmental crap."

"No, man— I can feel this one." He made a fist and pounded it against his heart twice. "It's like, love at first sight, you know? Like Romo and Julie, right? We're meant to be together."

Duncan clicked his tongue. "Yeah, I doubt that. But go ahead and talk to her, if you want. I'm telling you this now, though, because you're my bud and I don't want you to get crushed: she's not going to be interested. Alright? She's into different guys. Don't waste your time on— Geoff?"

Geoff clearly hadn't been listening. His eyes were glazed even more profoundly now, and he was slowly slinking his way across the room. It was only when Bridgette's eyes landed on him that the boy remembered himself and glanced towards the ceiling as he inched closer. He lifted an arm and raked his hand through his hair, trying to be subtle. Bridgette had noticed him, though, and her eyebrow was raised suspiciously as the boy fumbled around nervously. After several minutes, Geoff finally decided to—and Duncan winced at this—'notice' the girl. He pretended to be startled at the sight of her, before formally introducing himself and seemingly pulling out a random conversation from his hat.

Geoff was the most sociable person Duncan knew. The guy could find a group of friends anywhere, could strike up a bubbly conversation with the most unfriendly of all people, and had an ease and confidence with others that even Duncan admired. But standing there, across the room, talking to a girl who had written her seventh-grade speech on saving the whales, he was hopeless.

And for the life of him, Duncan couldn't begin to understand why.


"…Duncan?"

"Uh, yeah, Bridgette?"

There was a slow, heavy sigh on the other end, and Duncan's eyes flicked to the ceiling.

"Just… make sure… make sure she's okay. I know that's a lot to ask, because you don't know her and everything, but… she just… just— Well, you know. Just make sure she doesn't stress out or anything. Alright? Duncan?"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it."

Another sigh. "Okay. And make sure she calls me. Often."

"I said I got it. Stop worrying, alright?"

"Yeah, okay, just— take care of her. Courtney's going through a lot. She needs someone right now… I wish I was there."

"Well, you're not, so just trust me on this. Besides, Courtney can take care of herself well enough. Right, Princess?" He looked up from the phone. Said girl glanced away.

"Okay, well, tell her I'll talk to her later. Bye, Duncan."

"See ya, Bridgette."

He snapped the phone shut, and fell back onto the bed.

"Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?"

Courtney didn't answer him. She had gone out in the hall to speak with Bridgette, so Duncan hadn't heard much of their conversation, but it wasn't difficult to determine how it had gone. Courtney's eyes had been dry when she'd slipped back into the room to hand Duncan the phone—yes—but they were also dim. Dim in a way that she flicked them from Duncan quickly, like it was a vulnerability she wouldn't show.

A great contrast to Duncan's phone call, of course, which had lasted less than three minutes. Courtney had watched him then, as he reassured his mother and taken a lecture from his father. And when the phone snapped shut between his fingers, and had been offered to her, she had taken it with a simple, "Huh."

The girl shifted then, her sigh gathering and releasing all at once. "I'm going to bed."

"Whatever," he muttered. Courtney slipped under her covers, nestling in close. Duncan eyed the second pillow where it lay by her head. "Do you mind if I take that?"

Her eyes flicked open, settling on Duncan impassively. She moved grudgingly, and tossed him the fluffy pillow with reluctance.

"Thanks."

She watched him for another moment, her eyes dark. And then she reached over to flick of the lamp, and settled into her sheets, and didn't speak again. Duncan rolled his eyes at her gloomy silence, and he too relaxed into his mattress as best he could manage.

The girl was strange. Strange in a way that didn't strike him immediately, but rather in a way that slunk under his skin and cooled him from the inside. Just… strange.

It held her scent. The pillow— it smelt of her. Though, he couldn't be sure of how to describe it; it seemed to be all over the place, yet collected beneath him. It was of her, though. He was sure of that.

And though sleep crept upon him—enticingly, at this point—the boy couldn't help but let a final thought slip into his mind.

Passionate. Above all things, he supposed it was passionate.


Haven't you ever noticed that? How a person's pillow will smell exactly like them? I have. Mine smells like… laundry detergent. Huh. Does that make me boring?

I know this is up a bit early for me— certainly up before Together. But I had inspiration for this one, and it came a bit more quickly that Together would have. Because to be honest, I've been a little stressed with exams and I figured that I'd tackled the last part of the three-shot when I had time. I don't want to prevent other updates, you know?

Well, I hope you liked the chapter. I think it was rather interesting— I enjoyed it well enough. I know it doesn't seem incredible crucial, but we can still see some development with Duncan and his fe—eeeeeeliiiiiiings! Yeah, well, you're going to have to anticipate a few chapters like this: not every chapter will have an epic plot or something of that sort. Some will be simpler, and for good reason. It's those little-bitty moments that count, right?

Oh, right— the joke. Don't you just want to kill me for that? I know, I know, so lame. But I'm not going to lie, I love puns! And that's just the way I pictured them meeting. So, you know, if you didn't enjoy it… well… suck it up, buttercup. There may be more to come! XP

So, thanks for R&Ring! And I really appreciate your opinions on the last chapter— it means a lot to have you guys care enough to share with me :)

Oh, and has anyone else noticed that certain symbols don't show? My astericks are gone! Gasp! Sorry if that makes any previous chapters a little confusing. There was supposed to be a break there- it'll happen with the flashbacks.