Butch should really be more focused on writing a paper about his spring break trip. It was the most recent assignment given by Ms. Keane since coming back from their week-long vacation—for him and the others, it had been a week and a half. Already behind by two days on the essay, Butch should make it his best interest to get as much done during class time so he wouldn't have to worry about it later.
Yet, when asked the question, "What was the most eventful thing to happen over spring break?", Butch kept thinking about Buttercup.
It didn't help that Buttercup sat right next to him in Ms. Keane's class, either.
Butch may have gotten through two or three sentences before diverting his attention to Buttercup.
Her legs were crossed, her hand moving at a much more furious pace than Butch's. A thin hair tie contained strands of her inky hair into a half-do. The black cutoff shorts Buttercup was wearing showed off the toned legs Butch has, lately, found himself mesmerized by.
It has been four days since Butch recognized his feelings for Buttercup. Four days of appreciating every second spent with her. Four days of finding new things Butch was enamored with. Four whole days of Butch wanting to ask her out on a date.
Butch must have been fixated on Buttercup much longer than he thought because he heard Ms. Keane sternly clear her throat. He tore his eyes away from Buttercup, having the nagging feeling Ms. Keane was trying to get his attention.
He was proven right when aligning with Ms. Keane's disapproving stare.
"Eyes on your own paper," she firmly advised to him.
Butch quickly glanced down at his paper, feeling the burning stares of his classmates who were curious to see who Ms. Keane was scolding. He pretended to write something to add to the illusion it wasn't him.
For the next twenty minutes of class, Butch still couldn't articulate anything. His mind was too busy handpicking scenes from the past week for Butch to relive. It has become his favorite pastime since coming back to the Academy.
Trying to fall asleep? Let's remember how heartbroken Buttercup looked that night on the beach.
Can't concentrate on a history test? Think about the relief Buttercup exuded when he finally spoke to her after their fight.
Want to practice for the upcoming soccer match next Friday? Perfect time to recount every detail of the Ferris Wheel ride in Orlando.
That one week was perfectly encapsulated for Butch's viewing, continuously reopened and examined whether he wanted to or not.
It made Butch a bit restless. He felt the push, the motivation to do something. Ask Buttercup if she felt anything for him. Ask her out on a date. Blatantly flirt with her some more—Butch may have gotten Buttercup more flustered in the past two days than he's seen her get in the almost four years he's known her. Literally, anything to get out those feelings trapped inside of him.
The funny thing about being in love, it can go undetectable for such a long time, but once it's found on the radar, it can never go unnoticed. It becomes so evident and innate, it's always in the plane of sight even without trying.
He was given a pause button to the montage playing in his head in the form of the bell ringing for dismissal. Butch shoved his paper into his backpack, not caring if it got crumpled up or not. He barely wrote much anyway, there wasn't anything worth saving.
Butch glanced over at Buttercup, catching her eyes. There was an instant understanding they were going to leave the classroom together. She, being a more doleful student than Butch, placed her essay in a folder. Meanwhile, Butch waited patiently for her to finish packing. The rest of the room was already vacated, the Friday rush for the weekend prompted the speedy exits.
Speaking of the weekend…
"You got any plans?" Butch had asked when they made their way into the hallway.
A few classmates lingered around, but many had fled already to get ready for weekend events or to study for impending exams.
Buttercup and Butch were walking side by side. She was carrying a textbook, and Butch was left questioning what to do with his hands. He wondered if Buttercup could tell he wished they could be doing more than just walking alongside each other.
She gestured at the textbook in her arms. "I have to get reacquainted with Trigonometry in the next two days, or I'm going to flunk my next test."
Butch winced at the idea. "Never have I been happier to be designated a lower level student than when it comes to math."
"Yeah," Buttercup exhaled with the exhaustion she was already preparing to come to her after hours of studying. "I really wish I'd flunk the math placement test last year. It would've saved me a hell of a lot of trouble."
"You say that, but every time you purposely try to fail at something, you end up putting in more effort than needed to," Butch pointed out with a fond grin.
They were at the end of the hall, exiting out into the courtyard. Clusters were formed, chatting freely about plans and enjoying the temperate afternoon. Butch and Buttercup continued on, neglecting to care about engaging with any of their other classmates along the way.
Buttercup mirrored his grin. "I fail upward."
"Or you have the insane inability of never actually failing," Butch considered, taking the time to sneak a glance over her.
Yeah, there was nothing about Buttercup that felt like a failure in any scenario to him.
Butch held up three of his fingers, listing off. "You got it all. Beauty, brains, and you're also a badass. A total force to be reckoned with."
Buttercup briefly narrowed her eyes at him before letting go of whatever caused it. "We'll see if that has any truth after my test on Monday."
"You'll ace that shit."
"Mmmhh."
Butch sensed something suddenly became off between them. It could be hot and cold with Buttercup the past couple of days. He would compliment or flirt with her, and sometimes Buttercup took it in strides; the other times, she would shut down.
It made Butch wonder if he imagined it all. The way Buttercup had looked at him in the Ferris Wheel, the repeated softness in her crisp green eyes. Was it all a figment of his imagination?
Or was Buttercup just scared?
"So, you're just going to torture yourself all weekend?" Butch pointed out, attempting to salvage whatever may be left of this conversation between them.
They were nearing towards the dorms, making a turn to the left, which led to the girls' side of on-campus living.
"Pretty much," Buttercup huffed out. She then rolled her eyes. "But I'm also going to Robin's birthday party because Blossom planned it, and she's forcing Bubbles and me to go for moral support."
"Oh shit, yeah, Robin's party is tomorrow night," Butch remembered, scratching at his face from forgetting the detail.
Buttercup eyed him. "Are you going?"
"I don't like Snyder. Why would I go to her party?"
"I don't know," Buttercup shrugged. "'I'd just figured you would go."
Butch furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"
"It's a party and because–" Buttercup cut herself off, biting down on her tongue.
They were brought to a halt, standing near the entrance to her residence hall.
Butch waited for Buttercup to finish her sentence, but her silence spoke volumes to him. She was still in the old mindset. The one that existed before Butch found out the truth about Blossom.
The old Butch would've been clambering at the idea of being at the same event as Blossom and trying to get her attention.
Butch shook his head. "Nah, I'm good," he responded truthfully and calmly.
When it came to Blossom, Butch wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel. There was no anger or malice in him towards her. Nor any sadness about the truth of their relationship's demise.
Mainly, Butch only had regret. For their relationship, for letting Blossom have such a stronghold on him for so long, and for trying to sabotage her relationship with Brick by planting seeds of doubt in Brick's head.
With Buttercup in mind, he just wanted to move on from it all and focus on the present.
His head tilted a degree, staring down at Buttercup with a languid gaze. "The only reason I would go to Snyder's party would be for you."
Buttercup blinked at him, her mouth moved to speak, but she was momentarily speechless.
She pointed back at the doors to her dorm hall. "I, uh, I–I should get a start on the studying," Buttercup decided, stuttering a little. She swallowed, finding the courage to meet Butch's steady gaze. "But, um…" A grin had betrayed her, framing her lips. "It would be nice if you did go to Robin's party."
"Yeah?" Butch smiled broadly.
Buttercup nodded, the tender gleam in her was abated. "Might actually make things tolerable. I heard the theme is country-western."
"What did I just agree to?" Butch groaned, cringing internally and externally at the idea of having to listen to nothing but country music for hours.
"The party of the year," Buttercup teased.
The spring break hangover was apparent among most students. So was the stressful fatigue of knowing there were only a few weekends left until the end of the school year. Everything was going into overdrive from now until the first week of June.
Flyers to purchase the yearbook were stuffed into lockers. Prom posters had sprung up overnight, notifying students they only had a month left to prepare for the dance—this year's theme was A Midsummer Night's Dream. The well-versed academically, more organized students were offering up their services for tutoring in this drastic time of need, at a hefty price, however.
It was suffocating yet exhilarating. Time, in the next couple of months, was going to be moving at lightning speed without any remorse. The Academy would no longer be home for a lot of students. In just a few mere months, some would find a new place to call their home in the form of their chosen college or university.
For Blossom, she wished she could be like one of her classmates who were getting to study or be free to do whatever their heart desired on this Friday night. Unfortunately, Blossom was stuck spending the evening going through the final details of Robin's birthday party.
Turns out, Robin was pretty much a birthdayzilla, if that was even a word. Blossom wasn't quite sure if it was, but if there could be bridezillas, then birthdayzillas should too.
They may have gone through each aspect of the decor for the third time now, with Robin having something new to complain about each time.
I don't like this color... This looks super cheap... It's like you didn't even try, Blossom…
Blossom just let Robin to continue to nag.
Her energy has been returning in the past couple of days since being back at the Academy, and, crossing her fingers, Blossom hasn't been nauseous since Wednesday morning.
Things were settling right back into place.
She was feeling better. Blossom has gotten to make peace with the volatile relationship she has with her parents. Her and Brick were on good terms again—although, Blossom has become guilty of passing on her cold to him. Things between her, Bubbles, and Buttercup have never been better.
Blossom could breathe again.
Well, there was still the enormous guilt from hurting Butch, and how she was still wrapped up in Robin's blackmail.
Maybe the air was just easier to take in at moments.
"Did you book the band I'd asked for?" Robin inquired curtly.
"They were booked already."
Robin snorted at the claim. "And you didn't try to persuade them to change their minds?"
Blossom held back an eye roll. "I didn't exactly have enough time to."
"Right, because you were too busy gallivanting around the Bahamas—"
"First of all, it was the Turks and Caicos," Blossom interrupted tiredly. She glanced down at her watch, feeling a part of her soul being crushed when seeing it was nearly eight at night. "Second, I only had less than a week to plan—"
"Which should be plenty of time when having your resources."
"They had prior commitments, Robin," Blossom countered back. She rubbed at her temples, hoping to wash away the headache beginning to form.
"But, you have a commitment to me."
"Yes, I know."
"Then why aren't you trying harder?"
Blossom blinked at Robin, eyes wide and hands thrown up in the air, gesturing around them.
She wasn't trying hard enough?
Blossom got a whole stage crafted in the middle of the agricultural building just for one party. She bought cowboy hats for each guest—and they were legit, not just some cheap, party store plastic hat. Instead of the band Robin had wanted, Blossom hired a B-list professional country singer to perform. There's going to be a petting zoo outside with goats, rabbits, alpacas, and a miniature horse.
A freaking miniature horse!
Hell, Blossom had premium hay shipped in for decorations. She didn't even know there was such a thing as premium hay, but now Blossom did.
"I'm doing the best I can do. I was out of the country and got incredibly sick, now I'm trying to catch up on my school work, and it's been stressful doing it—"
"I'm not going to feel sorry for you," Robin cut in flatly.
She took out her phone, waving it in Blossom's face. It was the classic let-me-rub-in-your-face-the-incriminating-evidence-I-have-over-you move.
"With the way you're acting, maybe I should also send the video to everyone's school email too?"
Blossom huffed out in frustration, shutting her mouth.
"I'm not sure if you think just because I got that internship with your mom or because you did a few photo ops with me that you're in the clear, but I'm not done with you." Robin grinned with a vast amount of satisfaction. "Not by a long shot."
"Was it weird for you and Bubbles when you'd started dating?" Butch inquired before taking a sip of his smoothie.
He and Boomer were at the campus smoothie bar, sitting at the corner table by one of the windows. Where they sat had the perfect view of the campus illuminated at night with its cast-iron streetlamps. Not many were hanging around outside this late at night, and the bar was to close in thirty minutes, but Boomer and Butch both had no urgency to leave.
In fact, Boomer was only one-fourth through his blueberry-açaí smoothie despite having been nursing it for the past hour.
Butch, shamelessly, had to order another smoothie to satisfy himself.
"No. It was awesome, actually," Boomer answered. His fondness towards the memories was evident in his tone and smile. "Why would've it been weird?"
"I don't know because you were friends first?"
"That's what made it so great," Boomer stated, immediately shooting down Butch's concern.
"You weren't afraid of screwing up your friendship?" Butch furthered. "Or scared to take the risk of finding out what you'd thought were feelings, was just confusion?"
"Nope."
"How?"
Boomer shrugged his shoulders, completely blasé about the question. "I just think relationships built on friendships work better."
"Because of you and Bubs?"
"Yeah, sort of. But it's because we built a foundation with each other."
Boomer paused to take a small sip of his smoothie, gathering his words together in the process.
"It's–It's kind of, uh, like making a stew," Boomer continued on, cautiously navigating his comparison. "It's never going to work out if you try nuking it in a microwave because you're rushing through the process of making it."
"Instead, you leave it a at low heat, you let the flavor deepen. You take the time to invest and put your heart into making it. Eventually, it's going to grow warmer, but there's going to be a depth there that is incomparable. It's homely and wonderful and comforting. And to me, that's what love should feel like."
Butch blinked at Boomer, salivating a little in his mouth. "Not gonna lie, I could really go for some stew right now. Like some feijoada? Man, that would—"
"Please." Boomer ran a hand along the length of his face. "Please tell me that you got what I was trying to say."
"Yeah, I got it," Butch mumbled, withering a little at Boomer's dismissal towards his craving. He then reflected the degree of skepticism he held. "But, um, how can you be so sure it's going to turn out that way?"
"Well, when you put the right ingredients and spices together—"
"Enough with the stew analogy, Boom."
"Fine," Boomer huffed out dramatically. "But again, it's about the foundation you've built. If it's able to be flexible enough to take a shift in a different direction, then you should trust the process and take your time with it. Don't rush things because you're impatient."
Butch frowned slightly, resting his chin in his palm. A quiet sigh escaped from his lips, his mind fogging over with a heavy thought.
Boomer wasn't an idiot. He knew why Butch was asking these questions. Or, at least, Boomer hoped he knew.
He was going to make the educated guess, and say Butch has finally come to realize his feelings for Buttercup.
The tongue biting Boomer has committed for most of the conversation has been a killer.
But whatever he had said wasn't what Butch wanted to hear, it appeared.
"Who is it?" Boomer asked, despite knowing the answer.
"Huh?" Butch glanced back up at Boomer, blinking out of his daze.
"Who's the friend?"
"I, uh…" Butch rubbed at his neck, quickly flipping into the role of a timorous boy who was dealing with their first crush ever. "Promise me that you won't freak out."
Boomer held up his hand, taking a pledge to ease Butch's mind. "I promise."
Boomer took in a deep breath, waiting patiently for the awkward fumbling it was going to take for Butch to finally admit to his feelings.
"It's Buttercup," Butch admitted, gaining back some of his confidence.
Boomer blinked at Butch.
Well, that was a lot easier. He had expected for at least a whole mini-breakdown from Butch before getting a mumbled confession.
There was an awkward moment of just Butch and Boomer staring blankly at each other, both waiting for the other to freak out for vastly different reasons.
"Yeah," Boomer extended more than necessary, speaking slowly. "I already know."
Butch furrowed his eyebrows. "How? I just told you about it."
"Butch, it's painfully obvious."
"It is?"
Boomer nodded. "The tension between you and Buttercup is so thick, that it makes me uncomfortable sometimes. And you know how I can pretty much handle any vibes. But the type you and Buttercup have? Sometimes I just want to push you two together–" Boomer reached for the pearly styrofoam cup containing his smoothie in one hand and the menu table tent that usually sat untouched on the table in the other. He pushed them together, mirroring a seven-year-old forcing two dolls to kiss each other. "– and get it over with already."
"Shit," Butch said sheepishly. "I didn't know."
"Yeah, you've been pretty clueless."
"Hey, I was dealing with a lot," Butch argued back. "Give me a break."
"I am." Boomer held up his hands to signal no harm. "I'm actually glad you've figured things out."
"Doesn't matter, though," Butch muttered, taking a sip of his smoothie spitefully.
"Why? Because she's your friend?"
"No." Butch shook his head, swallowing his drink. He held up three of his fingers, counting down. "One, she's my best friend—"
"Bubbles is my best friend."
Butch ignored his comment, moving on to number two. "Second, I suspect it, but I'm not sure if she even likes me—"
"She's totally going to kill me, but Buttercup has it bad for you too," Boomer revealed.
A broad smile framed Butch's face before it faded away into pure skepticism. "How do you even know?"
"Bubbles."
"And you didn't tell me?" Butch exasperated.
"You literally just told me that you like her," Boomer defended hastily.
Butch narrowed his eyes for a split-second. "Moving on," he huffed out, holding up his third finger. "You said I need to take things slow, which isn't going to happen because slow doesn't work for me when it comes to girls."
"You do jump in head first," Boomer considered.
"Exactly," Butch exclaimed. "Here, I'm thinking I should be asking Buttercup out on a date." Boomer's ears immediately perked up, a jolt of genuine excitement for his friends coursed through him. "but now I—"
"You can still ask her out," Boomer interjected sincerely.
"But don't you think it's too soon?"
"That's not up to me," Boomer stated diplomatically. "It's between you and Buttercup. But I will say, one date doesn't automatically mean you're in a relationship. It can be a chance to take baby steps to figure out if this is what you want or not."
Butch nodded, taking Boomer's advice straight to the heart.
"... I don't want to fuck this up, Boom," Butch confessed solemnly after a small lapse in their conversation. "I want this to actually work out."
The corner of Boomer's mouth twitched upward, appreciating Butch's honesty.
"You just gotta take it slow, dude."
"Here's the rest of my NyQuil," Blossom stated, handing Brick the bottle containing one-third of the medicine.
She had gone to his dorm immediately after her unpleasant meeting with Robin. It was mainly to give Brick the medicine, but also because Blossom wanted to check up on him.
They haven't seen each other much since getting back to the Academy. This was due to Blossom assessing Robin's demands and because Brick has been sick for the past two days.
Brick took the bottle, placing it on his desk. Blossom sat on the end of his bed, leaving a good amount of space between them. She may have gotten him sick, but Blossom wasn't going to risk catching it again. She just started to be able to breathe out of her nose again for most of the day; Blossom couldn't go back to being solely a mouth breather.
"Thanks," Brick said, his stuffy nose was evident in his voice.
Dressed in black sweatpants and a Boston Red Sox hoodie, Brick hoped to help the process of sweating out his cold. His hair was tousled and matted down in the back from laying down on his pillow for the past two days, and slightly slick because of his sweating.
"How are you feeling?"
Seeing Brick sick made Blossom feel entirely guilty. If she had waited to talk to him after getting over her flu, then this wouldn't have happened.
She just had to get overzealous.
Her heart hammered away, anticipating his answer. Blossom was preparing herself for taking the blame if and when Brick placed it on her.
"Shitty." The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "But seeing you makes me feel a lot better."
Elation quickly fulfilled Blossom, making the bitter taste of self-guilt more appetizing.
"I'm sure being cooped up in your dorm room isn't all that either," she eased out.
"It could be worse," Brick shrugged, his eyes drifting over to Butch's vacant side of the room.
Blossom remained mum, not willing to touch the subject. In her mind, Butch was a non-approachable subject for her and Brick now. It was well-needed censorship. A fine line they shouldn't cross anymore.
Butch was in the past, and Brick was Blossom's present.
And truthfully, Blossom didn't want to hear anymore bad-mouthing about Butch.
"You may have a point." Blossom scooted closer to his wall, leaning her back against it. "It would be nice to have an excuse not to be around Robin."
"You do," Brick stated flatly. "You don't want to be around her."
Blossom chewed down on her bottom lip before letting out a dispiriting sigh. "Yeah."
"Why are you even wasting your time with her?" Brick furrowed his eyebrows.
A bead of sweat caught the light of his desk lamp, capturing Blossom's eye.
Pin-needles prickled Blossom's skin, pressing her to get on with it, to tell the truth. There was no risk anymore. She couldn't get on with any more lies. Not to Brick, not to herself, not to anyone.
Yet, she was speechless. Her mouth slacked, eyes glazed over with fear.
It was a scale. One side weighted down by Robin's blackmail and the chance of it getting back to everyone she knew. The other side dipped down from having to keep another secret and thought of lying to Brick and the consequences it may entail.
It was the ultimate equalizer.
Blossom had to tip the scales in one direction eventually; now would be the ideal time.
Robin had specifically requested for Blossom not to tell Brick. For whatever reason, it may have been—to cause problems between them; to create a divide over the secret; because Robin was scared of Brick—Blossom has chosen to honor that end of the deal.
It was to keep control, to not admit things got out of hand. To not be messy.
But Blossom was messy. So many things had her fingerprints on them, too many times she has gotten caught. She has said way too many things she regrets, and there were too many discovered lies.
The longer Blossom resisted, the more things got smudger for her. She needed to embrace the messy more. Yes, Blossom has owned up to her mistakes, but mainly to those who kept it within her group. Confidantes who allowed Blossom to maintain control of the narrative set.
At this moment, Robin was the one currently in control of the narrative of Blossom's life.
If Blossom wanted to move on and do better, it needed to end.
"... She's blackmailing me," Blossom revealed quietly.
To say Brick wasn't delighted to hear such a thing would be an understatement.
His initial response was to wince. The lines by his eyes crinkled, his lips pulled into a painful frown, as if it physically wounded him.
When it sunk in, Brick crossed his arms, his head tipped an angle. His face read of repulsion.
"Why would you let her?"
Let her?
Blossom knew it was partially true, she was letting Robin blackmail her, but that was because her arms were twisted behind her back. She couldn't find another way to get out of it.
And it wasn't like Brick had any room to talk. Not so long ago, he had to fake date Princess to get out of Boomer's weak blackmail.
"Obviously, she has something over me."
Her face was sheepish, her throat tight. Blossom couldn't explain why, but she felt embarrassed. Embarrassed to have to admit it out loud. Mortified by the response she received from Brick.
"Which is?"
Blossom's throat felt snatched out, leaving her to struggle to even catch her breath.
"It's just… it's things I don't–" Blossom shook her head. "–want out," she managed to get out.
Brick screwed up his face. "Why are you being so secretive about this?"
Maybe Robin was right. Maybe Blossom shouldn't have told Brick about this.
"I don't… I don't want you mad."
"Why would I get mad?" Brick snuffed at his clogged nose, his gaze greatly burning Blossom's skin. "You're getting blackmailed, and all I'm trying to do is figure out why."
"Yes, but…"
Blossom didn't know what else to say.
If she told Brick the whole truth, Blossom wagered on him marching out of bed and personally dealing with it himself; fever sweats, body aches, and all. If Blossom continued to play coy, it was only going to further piss Brick off.
It would refracture the recently repaired damages between them. It would make Blossom culpable of ruining them, just like she had done with Butch—it felt like that was all Blossom was good at, lately.
It would put Brick off from her even more.
She held back the strong urge to burst into tears because that was all Blossom wanted to do this past week. To cry until it physically exhausted her.
"... She didn't want me to tell you. I don't want to take the risk…"
"So, you're just going to continue letting her do it?"
"No."
Blossom could've sworn Brick rolled his eyes, but maybe she'd imagined it. After all, her misty vision was blurring a lot at the moment.
Brick sighed, scrubbing a hand along the bottom half of his face. "Then, what are you doing?"
"I… I don't know."
"You have to find a way to end it. I don't want you being taken advantage of like this." There was a flash of protectiveness in his eyes, one strong enough to uplift Blossom for a second. See, he cares! "It's only going to hurt you."
Blossom nodded, blinking away the water desperately trying to get out of her eyes.
She should feel better. Brick wasn't mad. He showed a brash reaction only because he cared about her well-being.
Blossom should feel better.
But all she felt was sadness.
"I'll try getting her to end it."
Thirty minutes into Robin's birthday party, and Blossom was trying to figure out a good time to corner her.
She figured approaching Robin at her party would be her best chance. Robin should be riding the high of having most of the school arriving at her party and, fingers-crossed, a little buzzed from the spiked lemonade that was being served. It should work out in Blossom's favor... Right?
Blossom has kept her eye on Robin since the start, following the candied-apple red cowboy hat that she had on. And when Blossom noticed Robin had gotten her third cup of vodka laced with lemonade, she figured it was the perfect time to strike. Robin should be tipsy enough to be in a good mood but coherent enough to understand what was going on.
She waited patiently for those who were definitely not Robin's friends a couple of months ago to dissipate around her. When Robin spotted Blossom, she couldn't hold back her smug grin.
"It appears you actually did something well," Robin commented, absolutely relishing in having a crowd come together because of her. "People are enjoying the party."
"That's great," Blossom replied flatly. She just wanted to get this over with. "Look, Robin. I'm, uh... I'm sorry for how I've treated you in the past. It was uncalled for, and I wish I could take it all back."
Blossom tried to ignore how unimpressed Robin appeared by her apology, moving forward.
"But I think this blackmail thing has gotten out of hand. And I..." Blossom got closer to Robin, speaking lowly to make sure no eavesdroppers could hear. "If you end it today, I'll pay you."
Blossom had come to a conclusion to pay off Robin earlier in the morning.
It came to her because: one, who turns down free money?; two, Blossom was pretty sure USC wasn't going to be cheap for Robin to attend; three, it was easy, all she had to do was write a check or even Cash App it to Robin; and four, who turns down free money?
"Yeah, no," Robin had let out a baffled laugh, shaking her head. "I'm not interested in your money, Blossom."
Blossom blinked, her mouth slightly hanging open.
Apparently Robin was the rare type of person who would actually turn down free money.
"Robin, please," Blossom begged a little too pathetically than she would've liked to portray.
"Nope."
"Then what can I do to end it tonight?"
Robin didn't even take a second to consider her question, shooting it down. "I'm getting exactly what I want out of you. Why would I stop and start playing by your rules now?"
"Because what you're doing isn't right and you know it," Blossom fought back, narrowing her eyes.
"Like you have any room to say anything about what's right and what's wrong," Robin countered. She arched an eyebrow, making a move to walk past Blossom but taking the time to finish her thought. "Maybe you should've thought about what was right a couple months ago before you'd opened your legs up. If you did, then you wouldn't be in this mess now." She grinned, feeling all too superior, giving her shoulder a small shrug. "But what do I know?"
Blossom watched her walk away, feeling her blood boil to a dangerous point.
All bets were off now.
Blossom began dissolving the layers of Robin's wishes and wants to her blackmail.
If Blossom deleted all of her social media, there goes Robin's wish for a bigger following on any of those platforms.
Any push back to Robin now, and the video will surely be sent to her parents and their associates, but Blossom was exhausted with having to care about them anymore. She wanted to be her, the messy person who was able to own up to her mistakes. She didn't care if Robin outed her anymore. If the video got back to her parents, fine. Her mom has already proven she wouldn't ever accept Blossom, and if her dad was actually truthful in wanting to be there for her, then this would be a time for him to show it. The perfect test for him to express his paternal instincts.
She didn't care for their opinions anymore, they didn't define her. The worse they could do to her now would to cut her off, but Blossom highly doubted they would.
Those were easy steps to end the more significant parts of Robin's blackmail. Yet, there was the last and most recent threat, the entire school finding out via email.
Blossom could just let it happen, take the high road and brush it off her shoulders. People have done much worse things at the Academy. Whatever push back she got, Blossom could handle.
Yet Blossom wanted control of it. If she was going to be outed as a cheater and a liar to everyone, Blossom wanted to do it herself. To have control of the narrative and use her voice. She wasn't going to let Robin take that away from her.
Blossom needed to tell everyone the truth. Carefully, Blossom would let everyone know about her mistake, furthering the ending of Robin's blackmail. The repercussions of it would be grave. Her classmates would no longer care for her. It has happened before with others in the past. Most of her classmates were sheep, easy to corral with a strong opinion. The second one person saw a mistake they disliked, others were bound to join in on exposing it more.
She could make them all hate her if Blossom told them the truth, but then there would be no popularity for Robin to lust after. Therefore, no reason for blackmail.
Blossom glanced around the room, searching for Buttercup. She needed an opinion before settling on her choice.
On her way to Buttercup, Blossom's phone buzzed, a text from Brick asking how the party was going. Blossom chewed down on her bottom lip, typing out a message disclosing to him that she was about to make a messy decision. She refrained from checking for any grammar mistakes as she usually would before sending a text message, slipping her phone back into the pocket of her cream-colored jeans.
"Butters, I need your opinion," Blossom announced when she reached Buttercup by the entrance of the party. She was sure that she appeared a little crazed at the moment.
"Well, I'm vastly full of them, so you came to the right person," Buttercup quipped. The grin on her face slowly faded away when seeing how serious Blossom was. "What's up?"
"To make a long story short, Robin has been blackmailing me—"
"I knew it!" Blossom stared flatly at Buttercup, clearly not amused. "Right, bad timing," she eased out sheepishly. "You were saying?"
"She's been blackmailing me, and I just tried ending things, but she wouldn't budge."
"Fucking Snyder," Buttercup grumbled. "I would say I didn't think she had it in her, but then again, she did basically steal Mitch from me, so..."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," Blossom mused for a moment, earning a glare from Buttercup. She put up her hands to intend no harm. "I'm sure you would like to forget about it too."
"Yeah, I do," she muttered stubbornly. Buttercup crossed her arms, eyeing Robin from across the party. "What does she want?"
"Clout."
"Why am I not surprised nothing has changed for her?" Buttercup returned her gaze to Blossom. "So what are you doing about it? Are you getting back at her? Cause like..."
Blossom shook her head immediately, not willing to entertain Buttercup's subtle way of volunteering to help. She needed to do this on her own and to not drag Buttercup down with any more of her drama.
"I... I kind of have a plan." Blossom combed an anxious hand through her hair. "But it only involves me, and it's messy."
Buttercup arched an eyebrow. "How messy?"
"Let's just say I don't think a lot of people will like me after it."
Butch, her gut told her.
It pushed for her to tell him. Her gut wanted Blossom to know she wasn't asking the right person for permission.
She was going to out herself to the entire school about a situation directly involving him. It wasn't just going to put her personal life back into the spotlight, but also his too.
But Blossom couldn't even imagine Butch giving her the time to hear her out, nonetheless approving this plan. He would probably want to get in on Robin's blackmail, she hypothesized despite her gut knowing Butch would want no such thing.
"But, it'll get Snyder off your back?"
Blossom nodded. "Hopefully, it will."
Buttercup rubbed at her chin, thinking it all out for a daunting amount of time for Blossom.
"You have wanted to lose your cult following here, anyways," Buttercup considered.
"They're not a cult," Blossom sighed tiredly. "They're just... followers."
"You're really not helping yourself," Buttercup responded dryly, obviously not swayed. She flicked her eyes back to Robin. "I think you should do it. Just say "fuck it" and be messy. What exactly do you have to lose at this point?"
Not much and a lot, Blossom recognized.
When it came to Robin and her classmates, Blossom didn't find much to desire or care about.
But when it came to Butch and airing out their business, Blossom found herself struggling to commit. It wasn't like her and Butch were even on speaking terms. They've already lost each other.
Blossom just didn't want to put him back there again. To relive something he was getting over. She didn't want to be a vortex, constantly sucking him back in without even trying.
She didn't want to inflict more harm.
And—God, what about Brick?
Blossom had forgotten to consider him and how this would affect him too.
He probably wouldn't care for people to know. Brick has been shameless about everything this whole time, she tried to convince herself despite the fluttering kaleidoscope of butterflies she had.
In the grand scheme of things, there was only Butch to worry about, and whether Blossom was willing to scratch at the same wound again...
To give Blossom some credit, she did know how to put on a party.
The agricultural building was transformed to match that of a saloon straight out of a spaghetti western film. There was a petting zoo outside that including a miniature horse that may or may not have even cracked through Buttercup's hard exterior. And somehow, she had gotten most of the population at the Academy to be excited about a country-western party.
Most of them were even enjoying the free cowboy hats they'd received as a party favor.
Buttercup has never seen such a large group of people, outside of Texas, who were willing to do country-western square-dancing. It may have been because Blossom had hired an instructor to help their classmates learn the style, or it may have been the setting of it all. Either way, Buttercup could not help but cringe when witnessing it all.
She has spent enough time at country fairs to know none of this was her cup of tea.
"I really hate country music," Buttercup grumbled to Bubbles, who was hanging back with her.
They, and Boomer, were gathered by one of the window sills in the room, observing the mania of square-dancing happening before them.
Bubbles had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a denim skirt, brown cowboy boots—which she borrowed from Buttercup—and a bell-sleeved, off-the-shoulder ivory blouse. A hat, the same shade of her boots, sat on her head, with her hair pulled into low pigtails.
Buttercup was the exact opposite of caring. A red flannel with a white halter top underneath and a pair of black jeans was her outfit of choice. And she would be damned to willingly wear a cowboy hat, nonetheless have one touch her.
Boomer didn't care much either. He appeared as if he was meant to arrive at a casual luau with his pair of navy blue shorts and flower-printed shirt, rather than a country-western party. He did, however, give in to Bubbles' wants, having on an alabaster-colored hat.
"It's not that bad," Bubbles attempted to be optimistic. "It kind of gets you in a good mood."
"Yeah, except for when they sing about their spouse cheating, or how they cheated, or how someone died, or—" Boomer slumped his shoulders in defeat, sighing. "You know what? I think you get the point."
"It's also an incredibly misogynistic genre geared towards frat boys," Buttercup added.
"But isn't all music genres just a tad bit misogynistic?" Bubbles considered.
Buttercup and Boomer both blinked at her.
"Country still sucks, Bubs," Buttercup deflected.
"She's right," Boomer agreed. He held out three of his fingers, counting down a list. "There are only three good country songs. And that's Cotton-Eyed Joe, Blown Away by Carrie Underwood, and the Hoedown Throwdown from the Hannah Montana movie."
"What about Taylor Swift?" Bubbles proposed with genuine curiosity. "She made some pretty good country music."
"Taylor Swift is on her own level, Bubs," Boomer answered as if it was the most obvious thing. "She's god-tier and cannot be compared to other artists or genres."
Buttercup stared blankly at Bubbles and Boomer. "Yeah, I'm just going to pretend I was never a part of this conversation now."
The two didn't put up an argument, or, at least, Buttercup didn't allow for it when decisively leaving for the refreshment table.
On a long table covered in tablecloth with a red paisley print similar to one found on a bandana, there was a spread of various pastries and sandwiches. Croissants of different concoctions; chocolate, hazelnut, bacon and cheese, almond, strawberry, plain. A ham and cheese sandwich with a layer of creamy cheese on top, pork on a baguette, Monte Cristos, bread soaked in olive oil served with hot tuna and capers. Eclairs, confetti of macaroons, spongy madeleines, cutely decorated petit fours, mini custard tarts, cream puffs dusted with the perfect amount of powder sugar.
Blossom's mother may be an awful person, but she did know how to make sure her franchises kept up their quality.
Buttercup plucked one of the cream puffs, consuming the sweet treat while surveying the party.
She didn't want to admit it, but her heart dropped when realizing Butch wasn't there. Buttercup has found herself half-holding out for him to show up—he did say he would—yet, the other half didn't want to get her hopes up.
Butch wasn't a fan of Robin, to begin with, and then having to voluntarily be around their classmates who he didn't exactly care much for anymore. Buttercup couldn't blame Butch if he decided to not make an appearance after all.
However, it didn't relieve the disappointment festering in her chest.
He had said he would only show up for her. Buttercup wasn't entirely sure if she should take his words more seriously or not.
Butch has been a little odd around her lately.
There were comments that Buttercup knew could only be interpreted as flirting. She has pretended not to notice the lingering looks Butch kept sending in her direction. Then, there was Orlando and the moment on the Ferris Wheel.
Buttercup still couldn't shake off the feeling that Butch was going to kiss her that night. She swore she saw it in his eyes that he wanted to.
Yet, she didn't want to get her hopes up again or get suffocated by the miscues between them. It wouldn't be the first time Buttercup has misread Butch and his intentions.
She shouldn't be trying to decipher if Butch was macking on her or not. They were friends again, that should be enough for Buttercup.
But it wasn't.
"Thank god, I've found you."
Buttercup had no way to hide the way her face softened from hearing Butch's voice.
He didn't care much for the theme either, having on dark gray gym shorts and a mustard sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
It took a lot of self-respect and common decency in Buttercup to not internally discuss how good his thighs looked in the shorts he was wearing. They were like two scrumptiously, thick tree trunks—and yeah, Buttercup definitely needed to get a grip on herself.
Buttercup ignored the flames burning in her cheeks, arching an eyebrow at Butch. "You finally decided to show up?"
"I told you that I was coming." His forest green eyes shifted around them, horrified by what he was seeing. "I'm glad to know I was right."
"About?"
"You being the only thing worth coming to this for," Butch answered casually. He grinned at Buttercup, unable to fully understand how her chest ballooned from his comment. "This is all kind of tragic to see."
"And now you know why I'd left Texas," Buttercup quipped back, despite her throat being sandpaper dry.
Butch opened his mouth to respond back, but his attention went to her lips, making Buttercup even more self-conscious.
"What?"
He pointed at the corner of his mouth. "You got a little something right there."
Buttercup wiped at her lips, finding sprinkles of powder sugar coating the skin on the back of her hand.
"I had a cream puff," she admitted sheepishly.
Butch had let out a laugh. "I can tell." His eyes went to the spread, happily taking one of the almond croissants. "At least the food is good."
"You can thank Blossom's mom for that."
Butch made a face as he sunk his teeth into the delicate, flaky layers of his croissant. "Yeah, I would rather be kicked in the balls than do that," he replied while still chewing with his mouth full.
Buttercup really wished he had become less attractive to her after displaying such a lack of manners, but of course, Butch was still wholeheartedly attractive to her.
"I don't blame you," Buttercup chuckled off.
Why did she have to bring up Blossom?
Buttercup braced herself for the inevitable of Butch shifting the conversation to be about Blossom somehow. That was how it usually went. She wouldn't be surprised if it still happened despite what Butch now knew.
Not surprised but just disappointed.
Butch was back to looking around the party. "I think I can live without seeing another cowboy hat for the rest of my life after this."
Buttercup blinked at him, slightly taken aback by him not taking the unintentional bait to talk about Blossom.
She rolled her eyes, smiling to convey her agreement. "They are pretty ridiculous."
"And where the hell did some people get boots? They're really willing to buy those?"
"Unfortunately, yeah. I have a pair, actually."
"You're joking," Butch said, his face reflected off his amusement and disbelief.
"It's like a right of passage to at least own one pair where I'm from."
The light of the room captured Butch's glee over the situation even more. "So, where are they, huh? This is the perfect time to wear them."
"Bubbles is wearing them."
"You're really going to deprive us like that?"
"I don't think I'm depriving anyone of anything."
Buttercup didn't know when or how, but Butch had moved closer to her, leaving a minimum amount of space between them. The raucous of the party and the crooning of the live country singer faded away when staring into his eyes.
"You're depriving me of it."
Buttercup furrowed her eyebrows. "You just want to laugh or roast the shit out of me."
"Maybe," he smiled sheepishly. "Or I just think you would look good in them." His eyes drifted downward. "You definitely have the legs to pull them off."
A wave of heat crashed into Buttercup, warming her face to her neck. "That's too bad, then."
"It really is," Butch agreed, taking another peek at her legs again before settling back on her gaze. "Maybe I'll just have to visit you in Austin over the summer to see it."
Buttercup was half confused and half flustered by his comment.
As far as she knew, they had no plans post-graduation to see each other. Everything has been up in the air, unspoken about in favor of living in the moment.
And quite frankly, Buttercup hasn't been sure if she would keep in contact with Butch. This was based on the fact Buttercup had been employed to be the person who was going to reveal Blossom's adulterous secret. That also it meant after graduation, Buttercup would've had to admit how she had been keeping the secret from him for months.
But now it was out, Butch and her have moved past the secret. There was no reason for Buttercup to be resistant to making future plans with Butch.
A lightness came over Buttercup from the acknowledgment.
"You really want to visit me this summer?" Buttercup found herself unable to ask.
Butch gave her a look that made Buttercup feel as if she was asinine for assuming the opposite of him.
"Duh. Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know," Buttercup shrugged off, trying to play it cool despite Butch crawling his way under her skin. "We've just never spoken about it."
"True," Butch nodded. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to see you." His hand rubbed at the back of his neck. "Plus, I gotta see Jim and Mai." Buttercup ignored the flutter in her heart from Butch wanting to see her parents again. "Then maybe I could get a rematch at that soccer game again."
"You still want to be a sore loser about that?" Buttercup challenged with a grin.
"Again, I know you'd cheated. So, I'm valid," Butch argued back amiably.
"Yeah, sure," Buttercup remarked sarcastically, laughing off his accusation.
Butch smiled warmly when hearing her laughter, taking a second to appreciate it before speaking again.
"But, um, I was being serious. I do want to see you sometime over the summer. I know we're going to be, at least, an hour away from each other when college starts, but it would be nice to see where your family lives and the place that helped make you you," Butch babbled in a low, sincere tone.
"Okay," Buttercup said immediately without much thought. Honestly, did she really need to? Buttercup was in the same boat as him with wanting to see each other. "We can plan it out."
"Good," Butch beamed.
Buttercup wasn't sure if she made up the breath of relief that escaped from his lips in her head or not.
She observed how Butch had slowly become stiff with nerves. A hand tore through his dark hair to alleviate a few of them.
"So, uh," Butch cleared his throat, glancing around the party again. "Is this the study break you'd needed?"
"I don't think the headache I'm getting from listening to someone asking if I want to take a ride on their big green tractor is really going to be beneficial with my last-minute studying," Buttercup replied dryly.
Butch snorted at her snarky response. "At least you can relax after Monday," he offered, his eyes still avoiding her.
"Oh, I'm definitely going to take a fat ass nap after it," Buttercup decided, already wishfully thinking about it.
"And what about Tuesday?"
Confusion hung in her brows. "Tuesday?"
"Yeah," Butch nodded. Buttercup watched him swallow and the bobbing of his Adam's apple. He finally met her gaze again. "Do you have any plans for Tuesday night?"
"Not that I know of," Buttercup answered slowly.
In the distance, some of their classmates, those who had been on the basketball team with Butch, called out for him, wanting to catch up. Butch nodded in their direction, holding up a finger, telling them to give him a minute.
He turned back to Buttercup.
"We should do something then," Butch eased out carefully.
Buttercup nodded hesitantly, not quite sure why Butch was being weird about asking her to hang out. They've done it many times before.
"That sounds good."
"Cool," he smiled softly. "It's a date then."
"Yeah, okay," Buttercup replied automatically.
It took a couple seconds for Butch's word choice to sink into her.
Buttercup's eyes widened immediately, blinking wildly at Butch.
"Wait. What did you just say?"
"That it's a date," Butch repeated, grinning with a small laugh leaving his lips.
Buttercup crossed her arms, guarding herself. Her mind wasn't able to wrap itself around the idea of what was occurring.
How could this be happening?
Since when did Butch want to go out on a date with her?
"Why?" Buttercup found herself saying, coming off a little too mystified than she would've liked.
It wasn't that Buttercup didn't think a guy would like her or anything. It just was this was Butch. The same person who, only about two weeks ago, found out the girl who he was dead set on a future with had cheated on him.
To say Butch's intentions were sort of suspicious to Buttercup, wouldn't be a lie.
Butch, who was much more relaxed and enamored by Buttercup, grinned even more. His hands were casually placed into the pockets of his shorts.
"I like you, Buttercup," he answered sincerely and effortlessly. His head was cocked to the side, keeping a steady gaze on the ranging emotions being displayed on Buttercup's face. "Isn't that the worst thing you've ever heard?"
Buttercup swallowed down his confession. The tension in her shoulders lightened. The corners of her mouth betrayed her, twitching upward bashfully.
Buttercup couldn't even remember the last time a guy has left her this constantly speechless.
Butch had the ability to reach into her, grasping at all the emotions Buttercup has kept away for a long time, sharing each one for Buttercup and him to get acquainted with.
It was revolutionary. Earth tilting. A change of tides Buttercup could get used to.
A guarded part of her wanted to resist the temptation, still wanting to punish Buttercup and leery of the idea of Butch wanting her for the proper reasons.
But Buttercup let her heart speak up for once.
"No," Buttercup replied softly, shaking her head a little. "It's not the worst thing I've ever heard."
Butch's former teammates called out for him again, forcing him and Buttercup to become reemerged with their surroundings.
Buttercup wished she could've photographed the way Butch's face lit up from her response. It was the most wholesome image she has ever seen.
"So, Tuesday night?"
Buttercup nodded, biting down her whole smile from bearing. "Yeah, Tuesday night sounds good."
"Great," Butch beamed radiantly, a peal of nervous laughter leaving his mouth. "That's fucking great."
It was afterward when Butch finally went to his former teammates to catch up, Buttercup was left to fully come to terms with what just happened.
It's a date…
Did Buttercup really agree to a date with Butch?
What the fuck is going on?
Buttercup stood paralyzed, flabbergasted by what just happened.
"Hey, Butters," Bubbles greeted, carefully picking up a chocolate eclair from the spread of food. She arched an eyebrow, reading Buttercup's body language. "Is everything okay?"
Buttercup blinked at her. "I, uh… Butch just asked me out on a date, and I, um, I agreed to it..."
"Holy fuck," Bubbles gasped, before slapping a hand over her mouth.
"Did you just curse?"
Seriously, what the fuck is going on?
"I'm sorry!
"Since when do you curse?
"I was caught off-guard," she defended, clearly mortified by her slip-up. "Can we pretend that never happened?"
Buttercup wanted to say no for future leverage, but she also wanted to be a good friend. "... Yeah."
Bubbles then hung her head in shame, signing the cross to relieve her guilty conscience.
When done, she grabbed a napkin, placing her eclair on it, leaving it on the edge of the table by her. She grabbed another, wiping away a smudge of chocolate off of her thumb.
"So, um," Bubbles cleared her throat, signaling the shift back to the original topic. "Butch asked you out?"
"Yes, Bubs, I just said that."
Bubbles let out a small squeal, her eyes shone with excitement.
"Oh my god! I can't believe this is happening!" She reached out for Buttercup, gripping her shoulders, shaking her around like a ragdoll. "Oh my god! Okay, we got to stay calm!"
Buttercup pushed Bubbles away from her, fixing her hair. "Says the person who's trying to break my neck."
"Sorry," Bubbles smiled sheepishly. "But this is a big deal."
"Is it really?"
"Yes!" Bubbles nodded furiously. "You like Butch, and he obviously likes you too if he's asking you out on a date."
"Yeah, but—"
"I'm just so excited for you, Buttercup," Bubbles explained, not realizing she was cutting Buttercup off. "After everything you've been through with Mitch and the Blossom drama, you deserve to be happy and get your chance at real love."
Buttercup wasn't sure if Bubbles was right.
But it would be so nice to actually believe her. If Buttercup could turn off the cynical part of her brain, and live in the rose-colored world Bubbles inhabited.
Buttercup should allow herself to be excited about this. She should give Butch the chance to prove his intentions to her, she should trust him.
Buttercup should trust her heart to make the right decision.
And maybe Buttercup was willing to take the risk and allow for it to happen.
The second Brick arrived at Robin's party, he regretted it.
The music increased the pressure clouding his head. His limbs ached, and Brick felt weak all over.
He hasn't gotten a cold in a couple of years, and the effects of this one were hitting him harder than Brick would've liked.
He should still be in bed, trying to conquer his mountain of missing assignments, but Brick had to come because of Blossom.
She had texted him, saying she was about to do something highly questionable. When Brick promptly asked what it was, Blossom hadn't replied.
Brick spent twenty minutes debating over whether he should make his way over to the agricultural building since Blossom wasn't responding back. On a typical occasion, Brick wouldn't have cared. But considering Blossom was at Robin's birthday party, who was also blackmailing her, Brick was justified to have a particular urgency to the matter.
Which was how he ended up at the party, still dressed in the same clothes from the night before, hating every second of being there.
He glanced around, searching for Blossom, pretending to not see the few friendly waves made in his direction. Brick walked across the room, tapping on a shoulder.
Brick may have not found Blossom, but he went with the next best option, which was Bubbles.
He knew Bubbles would be able to put aside their differences if anything concerned Blossom, even if Bubbles loathed him now.
In his decision to approach Bubbles, Brick had failed to recognize the company Bubbles had been with before he got her attention. Buttercup, Butch, Boomer, and Bubbles each shared a degree of disdain when seeing Brick.
Brick ignored the sight of Butch whispering in Buttercup's ear and the snort that followed from her.
"Do you know where Blossom is?" He asked, internally grimacing at how congested he sounded.
Bubbles didn't lighten the glare she held towards him. "No, I haven't seen her in a while."
Brick returned the harsh look out of habit. "If you do see her—"
"Hi, everyone."
Well, that answers Brick's question.
All eyes went to the wooden stage in the room. Blossom stood in front of the microphone, replacing the country singer who had been there for the last hour.
"It's nice of you to show up for Robin's Birthday," Blossom began. She looked as if she saw a ghost, clammy with glassy eyes. "It's quite a sight to see all of this for Robin today."
"Oh, no," Brick muttered under his breath.
Blossom wasn't going to—
"After all these years of everyone behaving as if she didn't exist, it's interesting to see it took an expensive party thrown by me for you to care about her."
"Let me through!" Robin shouted.
Brick spotted her in the crowd, trying to make her way to the stage.
A group of linemen on the football team was blocking her, preventing Robin from interrupting.
Blossom must have paid them, Brick connected.
"What is she doing?" Bubbles asked quietly to Boomer.
"I don't know," Boomer replied. The second-hand cringe was evident on his face. "But it's like a train-wreck I can't keep my eyes off of."
"You know, it's kind of funny, me and Robin's relationship," Blossom laughed humorlessly. "First, she pretends to be my friend for clout. Then, she spends most of high school wanting to get revenge for it. And now..." Blossom took a second to gulp down her nerves. "Now, she's blackmailing me into being her friend again."
There was a good amount of gasps in the crowd. Others were exchanging glances, an undoubtable WTF was being shared.
"Fuck," Buttercup mumbled, running a hand along her face. "I didn't know this is what she meant by being messy."
"You approved of this?" Butch chuckled, geared more towards Buttercup's mistake than Blossom, but it was easy to misinterpret.
Brick gritted his teeth together from the misread amusement Butch found in this.
"Blossom, stop this!" Robin yelled, still helplessly trying to make it through the wall of meathead football players.
"And I'm sick and tired of having so many secrets," Blossom revealed wearily to the crowd who were held captive by the strange turn of events. "I don't want Robin to have anything over me anymore. She threatened to tell all of you, my parents, and even my parents' business partners."
"I… I, uh," Blossom froze for a moment.
Her eyes landed on someone in the crowd, gaining her composure from them.
Brick glanced over his shoulder, boiling from recognizing Blossom was looking at Butch.
Butch knew it too. He gazed out the window of the room, not willing to acknowledge Blossom's attention.
Buttercup noticed it, like Brick. Her eyes were narrowed, trying to read the tension only the four of them were aware of.
"I did something incredibly awful and unforgivable," Blossom said quietly into the microphone. Her face was whiter than usual and shrouded by guilt. "I let myself get caught up in my emotions, and… And I slipped up, allowing Robin to record a moment I had previously believed would've been private."
"Why be so coy, Blossom? Just say you'd cheated on Butch!" Robin yelled from the crowd. A smug grin framed her lips, feeling she bested Blossom. A clear checkmate made by her. "You'd slept with Brick! You're a fraud!"
The sound of a door opening and closing could be heard. Brick tore his eyes away from the situation, observing that Butch and Buttercup had left.
Blossom's hand gripping onto the microphone began to shake. Her legs appeared like jello, even from where Brick was standing.
All attention was brought back to Blossom, anticipating her response to Robin's accusations. For her to deny it because there was no possible way that Blossom would be prepared for the backlash she would receive. She wouldn't risk the perfect image they've all grown accustomed to seeing her preserve.
Sparse comments were made throughout the room.
"See, I told you!" "Oh my god, how embarrassing!" "Who would be stupid enough to cheat on Butch?" "I haven't felt this conflicted since Zayn left One Direction." "I don't care what she did, she made an upgrade." "I thought everyone knew this already?"
Blossom slowly brought the microphone to her lips, trembling with her reply. "I did cheat…" There were a lot more shocked faces made towards Blossom finally admitting the truth to everyone than to anything else that had been said. "Now everyone knows. And now, you can't threaten me anymore. You can tell my parents, you can tell their partners, I don't care. You have no reason to blackmail me anymore." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's over."
A pin could've been dropped in the room, a space filled with over a hundred teenagers, and it would've been heard by everyone.
But when it sunk in. When the initial WTF washed away, and the insanity dimmed down, the crowd had turned.
Boos, jeers, and nasty comments were thrown in Blossom's direction.
She had been right once again. They did hate her now.
For a crowd who didn't exactly care too much about Butch an hour ago, they were defending him like he had been their best friend for a decade.
Most had chosen Blossom's side in the breakup until this very moment.
The majority of the crowd, they did not look at her with admiration or the want to please Blossom. Those people couldn't stand her now. Just like that, they had flipped.
It wasn't just Blossom who was getting the same treatment. So was Robin.
Those who still had a loyalty to Blossom or those who didn't like how Robin blackmailed Blossom were heckling Robin too.
But the raucous had died down just as soon as it had started, with most getting bored after Blossom vacated the stage and when Robin ran out of the room crying. They had moved on with their short-term memory, back to enjoying the party again.
Despite it, there were also snide remarks made towards Brick.
All he did was blink, and then Brick found more than the usual four looking at him with disdain.
It was from those who actually did care about Butch before this. His former teammates. Teammates who, some, were also Brick's.
The violation of the bro code had turned them against Brick. Any respect Brick had accumulated, any ounce of friendship, it was all gone.
His brain kept wanting to hit the reject button. There could be no way any of this was real. He couldn't comprehend the unlikelihood of this.
The tight strings to his mask were snipped at, revealing his true self, and they weren't interested in what they saw at all.
His legs moved without a command, his ears deafened by the seething words flung onto him. He walked towards the stage, the crowd feeling like the sea parting just for him, pushing past any shoulders in his way.
Brick made it to a frantic Blossom, his arms going to hers. He shook his head in disbelief when he got a grip on her.
"What were you thinking?" Brick initially asked with a little more heat than he'd intended. Followed by, "Are you okay?"
Blossom took a step away from him, letting Brick's hands fall to his sides. Her eyes were anywhere but near his confused stare.
"I need to go."
"Okay, I'll go with you—"
"No."
Her eyes snapped back to him.
She tried to move around him, but Brick blocked her. His eyebrows were furrowed with aggravation and even more perplexity.
"Bloss, I'm not mad." Brick wasn't sure if that was technically a lie or not. "What's—"
"I need to find Butch," Blossom revealed abruptly.
Brick blinked at her, feeling his fever go cold, all of the warmth in him having vanished along with it. He was sure the look he was giving Blossom matched as she fidgeted from how frigid it was.
It just had to be about Butch.
"Are you joking?"
"Just give me ten minutes," Blossom pleaded.
Before Brick could make the unwise choice to respond back with his bitterness, Blossom pushed through the rowdy crowd, running out into the warm spring evening.
Blossom found Butch by the fountain in the courtyard. His long legs hung over the edge of the fountain, his back to the gentle flow of the water.
His torso was turned to Buttercup, who mirrored his body language. They were in a deep conversation, but Blossom knew it couldn't be about her. Not with how Buttercup was smiling or how Butch was laughing carelessly.
As she grew closer to them, Blossom found her eyes trailing down to their hands. Their fingertips were loosely interlocked, teasing each other with their touch.
And the adoring gaze in Butch's eyes, it was just…
Blossom felt happy for them if this sight meant they were getting together. She truly was. It wasn't a lie.
But god, did it hurt to see it.
It was inappropriate and wrong, considering Blossom had self-inflicted all of the hurt onto herself. She may be a hypocrite, and Blossom knew it wasn't because she wanted to be with Butch again.
He just looked so happy.
That was what hurt Blossom the most. Because she didn't feel like she had ever been able to give him that.
She didn't need to say anything to make her presence known because they both had looked up when Blossom reached them. Buttercup had retreated her hand back into her lap, while Butch flinched, not bothering to keep any interest in gazing at Blossom.
Blossom blanched, feeling her knees buckle. Her heart thrum, knowing Butch had every right to dismiss her away or say much worse.
"Butch, can we talk?"
Buttercup tossed her eyes between them, sinking into the stuffy silence they were sharing. There was such a deep contrast to the soft smile Blossom had witnessed just seconds ago from the shrinking light in Buttercup's eyes. However, she couldn't ignore Blossom's silent implore.
With a huff, Buttercup stood up from the edge of the fountain.
"I'm gonna get something to drink," she mumbled tiredly.
Butch glanced up to stop her, but Buttercup had left already.
Clearly, he wanted nothing to do with Blossom, standing up immediately when left alone with her.
Blossom moved quickly, trying to hang on to whatever short time she had with him to make peace.
"Butch, I'm so, so sorry."
Blossom couldn't have meant it anymore. It was the truest sentence she has ever spoken.
Butch's back was to her, his hands were clenched into fists. An irritated breath filled him, moving his body with its force. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing her with indifference.
"What are you really sorry about, Blossom?" He asked, sounding absolutely exhausted with her.
Blossom wished he had asked her a different question. One with a much more straightforward answer, because Blossom had a lot to be sorry about.
"So many things..."
Blossom didn't trust her legs anymore, taking a seat where Butch had been just a moment ago.
Butch turned a little, not fully facing Blossom. Closed off, yet a small crack was left open for Blossom to worm her way in.
"I... I'm sorry for dragging you into what just happened in there. I'm sorry for cheating on you. I'm sorry for how much I've hurt you. I'll forever be sorry for all of it, Butch. I should've been honest—"
"But you weren't," he interrupted bitterly, shaking his head. "You never could be honest."
Blossom hung her head, nodding. "... You're right. I wasn't honest about a lot of things with you. I just couldn't find a way to open up with you, and I'm sorry I couldn't have. You deserve better than that."
It got quiet again. So quiet, Blossom had thought Butch left her.
Yet, when Blossom looked up, he was still there. His eyes were glaring at the cracks in the concrete underneath him.
"... I'd tried to help you. I tried so fucking hard to get you to open up. And all it did was get you mad at me. It only made you more distant," Butch said hollowly.
The grief in Blossom had hit a new peak. The type where streams of tears were only a natural response to the dark realm of her feelings. The pain in her stomach was so raw, and the heartbreaking reality between them was too, reawakening an aching wound Blossom had thought was done healing.
"I'm… I'm just so sorry, Butch," Blossom whimpered, wiping at her eye. "I can't say it enough. You only wanted to love me, and I… I didn't know what to do with it."
Butch didn't like that answer.
"But you can do it for him, right?"
Blossom couldn't formulate an answer. What Butch had flat-out asked her, trapped Blossom into a more painful truth.
"... I don't think I'm good at loving anyone." More tears shot out of her eyes. "I only ruin them."
Blossom buried her head in her hands, letting the incoming sob take over, demolishing herself right in front of Butch.
And Butch…
Butch, with his enormous heart, put aside his own pain to comfort her.
Taking a seat beside Blossom, his hand patted at her back gently, pausing at some moments to rub small circles to help soothe her.
It felt oddly intimate, and Blossom was undeserving of such kindness from him, leading her to cry further.
"... I shouldn't have said that," Butch admitted with a heart full of regret.
Blossom tore her hands away, shaking her head, finally being allowed to meet his eyes.
"No, you should be able to ask anything. You should call me out. You… You should hate everything about me."
Butch retreated away from her gaze. His fingertips slowly made a circle into the mauve fabric of her blouse.
His eyes were devoid of any color.
"... I should."
Eventually, Blossom sniffled loudly, wiping at her eyes, finding herself able to take in a few calming breaths. Her face felt puffy and was the hue of a bright red from all of her crying.
Butch must have sensed the plateau in her emotions, removing his hand from her back. His elbow propped on his right knee, his chin resting in his hand. His left leg shook up and down for his own need to seek out a sense of calm.
Blossom swallowed at her scratchy throat. Her voice was utterly raw when speaking.
"... When I think about our relationship, it just makes me entirely sad."
"You should be sad," Butch responded with insouciance.
"Not even going to sugarcoat it, huh?"
Butch shrugged his shoulders, keeping his gaze away from her.
Blossom sighed, bowing her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, hesitating.
"... I know you're still mad and I—"
"I'm not mad."
Blossom furrowed her eyebrows with pure shock. "You're not?"
"I… I don't want any grudges. I don't have time to be mad at you or to have any malicious intentions towards you. It's not worth anything to me."
A certain glow captivated his profile for a brief moment, brightening up the darkness that has lingered in him for most of their conversation.
"I've got something better going on, anyway."
The image of him and Buttercup's fingertips tangled together flashed to the forefront of Blossom's mind.
"Oh... Well, I—"
"You know what fucking blows, though?" Butch asked, catching Blossom by surprise.
She knew of a couple of things that did, but they probably didn't correlate with Butch's opinions.
Blossom shook her head. "No, I don't."
"I regret ever being with you. My first real relationship and first love, and I regret that it even happened," Butch revealed through a strained voice. The hurt that filled him was being wrung out ever so delicately.
He turned to look at her, really taking Blossom in. His eyes searched her face, scanning the raw red coloration to her skin and the trembling of her bottom lip.
"Despite how we got here, there were some good and beautiful times we had together. But I don't want to remember them. It's all ruined and… All I have now is regret."
Blossom did her best to hold it together. To not fall apart at the seams even though they were ripped and tattered at already.
"Butch, I'm so sorry. I can't say that enough. I'm… I'm just so sorry."
Butch sighed, no longer able to look at her. He took a moment to himself, while Blossom let the silence settle between them, giving Butch the time he needed.
He ran a hand back and forth through his hair, speaking so quietly and genuinely, it almost made Blossom want to combust because it wasn't fair.
She has never been fair to him.
"I… I don't want to regret you." He inhaled sharply through his nose, exhaling similarly. "Honestly, I don't know how exactly I'm supposed to feel about you now, but I do know I just want to get past what you've caused and learn from it. I don't want you to have an effect on me anymore."
Blossom started to cry a little again because she could not stop it.
"I want that for you too." She meant it. Blossom meant every single part of it in her bones. "I'll, um... I'll make sure to stay away from you and—"
Butch shook his head, interrupting her. "Blossom, we have the same friend group."
"Yeah, but—"
"We can be civil," he acknowledged neutrally with a shrug, meeting her eyes again to show he meant it.
Blossom blinked at him, her vision misty through the unreleased tears.
She was undeserving of his kindness. Truthfully, Blossom has always been undeserving of Butch. This moment only exemplified it more for her to see it.
"You're being too nice to me."
Butch's gaze fell to the ground, his voice the smallest Blossom has ever heard it.
"Yeah, well…"
Blossom didn't need him to finish. She had gotten the answer loud and clear, adding to the pain and guilt surging through her.
He loves her. Not romantically, not on purpose, but unconditionally.
There would always be a piece of his heart that would belong to Blossom. She came into Butch's life at an impressionable time, one of which involved the complicated and dizzy predicament that was young love. There was going to be an unfair soft spot for her, one Butch wouldn't be able to fully explain to anyone or himself.
It was the same one that existed in Blossom, just as Butch would always have a part of her heart too.
They shared a love story. It may have never been perfect and didn't have a happy ending to it, but that was life. You take the good and the bad, and you try to make out what you can from it.
But what happens after it has all been written out? Where do they go from this?
A desperate gallop of words fell from Blossom's mouth, clinging on to the last remnants of the time she had left with Butch.
"I know this is incredibly selfish of me, but do you… Do you think we'll ever possibly become actual friends one day?"
At that, Butch softened. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, despite still not being able to look Blossom in the eye. Instead, he threw his head back, staring up at the pastel evening sky, squinting at the last golden rays of sunshine.
Beyond Butch, Blossom could see Buttercup making her way back to them with two soda cans in hand.
Blossom wasn't sure if it was the distance or not, but she could've sworn Buttercup had her eyes narrowed at them.
Butch hadn't noticed Buttercup yet, but Blossom knew once he did, she would only have a minute left with him.
"I think we should focus more on being the best of exes to each other right now," Butch decided diplomatically.
Those words. They were so generous even if they weren't what Blossom had initially intended for.
A few tears fell from her eyes, but it felt good.
They were good tears, the type that was grateful to have reached solid grounding after being so shaky for too long.
"I like that," she said quietly in full honesty.
Butch glanced back down at her, sharing a small yet uncertain smile with her.
He's too good for you, her gut told her.
And Blossom finally agreed with it. The best thing Blossom could've ever done for Butch was letting him go so he could be with someone to match his heart.
If only Blossom had been able to it without shattering his heart so badly.
It was then when Butch had noticed Buttercup. The smile on his face automatically grew bigger, a light transforming his eyes into a richer shade of dark green.
He went to his feet, ready to be by Buttercup's side again.
"And Blossom?" Butch looked down at Blossom for one last time. Her brows hung, waiting for his next words. "Try to be kind to yourself."
Blossom smiled sadly at him.
The person Butch was, who he has grown to become, to be able to push aside the pain she has caused and still be able to wish her well. It was beautiful and remarkable, but also gut-wrenching and heartbreaking.
She still felt undeserving of it. His kindness and unconditional love. To have been a part of his life and get to keep a piece of his heart.
But sitting there, being with him for just a small amount of time, it made a part of Blossom feel like she did. That everyone deserves to be treated with kindness, despite how inclined they were to mess things up.
Tears twitched in the corner of her eyes, nodding once at him.
"You too."
Author's Notes:
I hope you're doing well and staying safe, and that this provided a little distraction to all the craziness happening.
Any comments made towards country music do not reflect my own personal opinion about it. I happen to find it enjoyable in most cases. However, Boomer's comment on the only three valid country songs is actually an inside joke between my best friend and I.
I just wanted to take a moment to shout out the incredibly nice reviews I'd received from errenreese519, 3mily02, and marskeeee. You're all too kind, and I much appreciate that you took the time to write such awesome reviews. Now all of you had a particular theory going on, which I won't confirm or deny, but I will say that the next chapter will touch upon it to a degree...