Previous: Brick struggles to appear cool in Blossom's eyes.

Summary:

Exams bring stress. Stress brings tension. Tension brings volatility. His friends are trying, but was a distraction really what he needed?

"Boomer, mate." Brick's basic. Couldn't deny it after seeing how much his bacon and stilton sub order paled terribly to Boomer's diabetes-inducing 'platter'. "Terrible idea to come back here." He glanced both sides before taking a cautious sip of his tea; burdock. The ceramic mug almost clinked when he returned it to his saucer, "Seriously, of all the places."

"Quit nagging," Boomer's thoughts were currently too occupied by the burst of flavour that took over his taste buds. The nutmeg was an excellent addition to the classic vanilla cake, the carrot cake was surprisingly fluffy and, damn, God bless their tiramisu!

"Did you know that the monthly special changes every two weeks?"

Bad weather blanketed the city in grey. Rain deafened most sounds past the half-glassed walls and if there was one thing for certain, neither boys cared for the experience. Inside, they were warm and safe. Smooth hits, the smell of fresh baked goods, and delicious treats? Perfect way to wait out the dark clouds.

Brick shuffled through his textbook for a comparative answer. He'd given Boomer more of his attention had his latest script not been so appalling. But the boy still prattled. Though most words may have missed Brick's distracted ear, he'd surmised from Boomer's animated actions that he'd been chatting about something he found interest in… which was weird… because it seemed genuine.

"Or that there's a special for different types of food?"

When he'd finished gush, he propped his waving arms on the table, pressed the straw against his cheek, and carried about his snacking. "This?" he mumbled, the words mostly foggy in-between hefty sips, "Just the fortnight's milkshake special!" his eyes seemed to have gleamed. Probably the result of a sugar rush or it was just that good, "Care to guess what it is?"

Brick rolled his eyes.

Rude?
He couldn't care less.

Unfriendly?
He'd been worse.

"Stop bloody messing around man! I've been here since ye ordered…" He didn't mean to grimace, and his words usually got silly — almost ancient — when he was bothered. "…everything. I was here when you ordered everything."

There was an unsettling headache ready to gnaw at his temples. Brick had to push it back before he finished his complaint. "Oh, and what's your mum to say when she sees these charges? You really need to go have your stomach pumped for all thee darn bloody processed sugar you're there eating."

"Dad's card," short, monotone, unbothered, "So she wouldn't know a thing." Annoyance dug into his flesh. He simply had to give himself a few seconds to stew. "Party pooper."

"Sulking? You're seriously sulking?"

"I can't even say, Brick! What do you think?" such crisp sarcasm, "You're supposed to be my friend, but you're being all naggy and trying to guilt me out of my cheat day!"

"I'm guilting you out of a diabetic coma, you know." He nicely corrected.

"Nag, nag, nag. Yikes grandad, you're seventeen!"

Boomer pressed his palm against the frosting café's glass as the strong winds beat rain unto it. Their Saturday evening plan was regrettably cancelled. As much as Townsville seemed a city buzzing with potential, they frequently practiced small-town mentalities. Outside the metropolis — for example, Pokey Oaks — there simply wasn't much to talk about. A few mall outlets, lakes, a trickle of food carts, and a single severely overpopulated and generously tatty movie theatre.

He trailed a fat streak of water down the glass while settling his thoughts. Make no mistake, his intent was spot-on as usual. "I didn't come here for drama," maybe Blossom? But that was a shot in the dark. "You really think Robin and her little group would come back here without a sponsor?"

No matter how short and discreet, Brick didn't miss his ridiculously devious smile. It should have been addressed but was ignored to delve into his own issues. Rain cancelling their plans was actually good on him. If not to fix his embarrassing grade, then to avoid those horrid movie listings.

Don't get him wrong, he had nothing against tacky rom-coms or low-budget horrors. His sister 'ironically' loved that shit. However, if he was taking a break from his studying — especially with his scholarship on the line — he needed limits of how barmy the experience could get. If he had to shove through a crowd of people on chipped, wet, and possibly pooling cobblestone, it wasn't to watch some craptastic movie.

"Can't be arsed with those cheap spongers. These prices are as reasonable as it gets and the portions? Can't complain." The annoyance from his dodged nightmare made for unjust annoyance to seep into his tone. The theatre was for summer or late nights when the place was near vacant. Buttercup was daft as a bush for suggesting that shit. No wonder Butch assured he'd dip.

"Oh," bait, "How'd you know about the cost?"

There was a momentary eye flicker before Boomer deftly pulled on his straw. The potential flavour danced around as a pleasant thought in Bricks' head. Something akin to coffee, with maybe a splash of chocolate. A mouth-watering mix of Peanut butter, banana, caramel, and vanilla ice-cream — one that possibly tasted as good as it looked; like heaven. Boomer sat innocently with a slurp, pushing the near-empty glass away before straightening. His blue eyes stretched to where he'd parked his father's car. A lot of care and caution in his glance. The heavens knew he'd be skinned alive if his father found out he'd stolen it. He might not be religious, but for as long as his dad's out of town, he prayed for not even ill-will to befall the Prius.

"These results are bullocks." Brick ignored him. Had his hair not been trimmed a week ago, he would have had ample length to pull tragically. Just the thought sored his scalp.

Boomer's voice snapped him out of his trance. Oddly enough, Brick had been spacing out far too often. Probable cause for concern, but most chose to trust he had his shit together. "From Keane or Jojo?" he'd ask, his fingers tapping rhythmlessly on the tabletop.

Brick looked up for a sharp second, brows almost stitched together by aggravated ridges, "M.S. It's Wednesday's." his eyes were rolled, and the paper was all but fully crumpled, "The man marks me like shit even if my answer's half-correct."

"Pretty sure you're overacting. You've been studying like crazy!" Brick's silence was making him uncomfortable, "Oi, come on! Can't be that bad… how much you got?"

"Seventy-two." A careful look to Boomer before his anger clouded his embarrassment. "A sodding seventy-two." He flipped the paper to the front and flashed Boomer his grade.

"What the… deuce?" he'd lost his casual façade, "Oi! Brick, you're really bombing that class!" the worry in Boomer's tone made Brick's stomach sink, "If you don't fix that shit now you could kiss Oxford or Cambridge good-bye." Boomer filtered through the pages as if he'd understood what the contents meant. Mediocrity wasn't something one would attach to a Pokey Oaks student; especially when their potential was so blaringly obvious as Brick's.

Brick rolled his eyes, "I only applied there as a joke, you cuck. I know I can't get in."

"Oh, trust!" Boomer snickered, "With these shit grades? Not even if you were the next Ronaldinho."

"Har, har." Calm flowed through him, "I think he's stiffing me. I got high eighties in cram school and that finished two weeks ago."

"Then why are you fussing? The big test's not getting marked by these arseholes at school. The graders won't even see your name, just your candidate number. You're fine."

Brick wasn't in the mood for logic, "I at least deserved three-marks for this one! He gave me one! Fucking- ay! Swear, I'll key his car before I graduate."

"Then, you'll get expelled," he counted down on his fingers, "lose your scholarships, and bomb any chances of at least getting in a decent community college."

Brick rolled his eyes, "You wouldn't be saying that if your mock paper came back in the seventies. This pissing bloke! I canae guess what I'm goin' get!"

"High eighties; like you did in cram school."

"No, Boom. It's… That's… diff… ah damn! This pissing shit is giving me one big blimey…" he groaned, his sentences becoming misconstrued halfway. "It's just… the principle Boom! I don't even know if I need to put in extra work or if he's just cuck-supreme."

"Pretty sure he's just cuck-supreme," Boomer laughed, "Okay, greener pastures! Bio scores, how much you get?"

"You're just looking to gloat!"

"I don't know. Unless you could beat my ninety-two?"

He rolled his eyes, "Close, eighty-eight."

"Ha! Thought Mr. Jojo's help would've finally carried you to the nineties squad."

"Oh, piss off! Like his help changed your grade. And I think I did pretty good for someone who went blank for eight whole minutes."

"Dumbass." Boomer grinned.

"Show off."

"So, why'd you pay for that last study meet?"

"Oh? That was kind of a –" shit. "W-what?"

"I asked," Boomer clarified, that sneaky smile returning. Never beneath him to take advantage of a situation, "why'd you pay for the last study meet? Wasn't Blossom covering it?"

He was too mentally exhausted to talk his way out of it. "How long did you know?"

"Honestly?" a small cock of his head, "You just confirmed it," he smiled, "Does she know?"

"I'm assuming her blonde friend kept it a secret for me," His tone wrapped in suspicion, "How'd you 'guess'?"

"Her blonde friend's name is Bubbles." He reminded, "And for starters, you asked to use the washroom downstairs… strange even for you! Then there was that fit you threw on your way back… hinky as hell."

Brick rolled his eyes.

"We left together, so I didn't think much about it then, but when I came back on Sunday–"

"Why?"

"Brick! My story? Please?"

The scolded boy pouted through folded arms as he awaited the ending. It was like this; Boomer was usually so full of shit that he needed each 'i' dotted before he left the café.

"Hey! That was quite a sum of money dropped there! I had to ease her burden by paying my share. So, I went to the manager to find out if she'd paid yet, but the woman said she'd already been covered. I dunno about you Brick, but I'm very conscious of chosen words. Covered doesn't mean paid."

"And… your first assumption, me?" he wasn't buying that shit.

"Between the seven of us… with the rounds we ate, that bill easily crossed a hundred. Everything Suzan wears is fake. Lou is barely even middle class. Robin wouldn't carry that much cash on her. Oh, and if Joey sponsored, the whole class would know."

"Well," he hated being called out like that, "Dad gave me the okay and said some shit about being proud and leadership… I think? Whatever. Not seeing the issue here." He wasn't going to waste his time with a half-assed excuse either.

"I never said there was an issue, I'm just wondering when you're going to tell her that you like her."

That cheeky little devil.

"I don't… not like that."

"So, out of the goodness of your heart, you covered her bill?"

"And I never did that for you?"

Boomer squinted, "Rarely… and only if you think it's necessary. Like that time I forgot my wallet home."

Didn't ring a bell to him, but seeing that Boomer proved his point, he didn't bother to speak on it.

"Still think you're full of shit."

"What's it to you anyway? Didn't you guys say, and I quote, 'she's out of my league'?"

Almost too easily, Boomer replied, "Because your social skills are shit, she's definitely lived and, — no offense bud, but — she's the type to swallow you whole then spit you out without even an afterthought. So, forgive us guys for trying to prepare your fragile heart for that whirlwind."

"I'm going to ignore you now."

"Even if I told you that I can get the MS-II teacher to check over your last test?"

He squinted. "How?" eagerness gripped his tone.

"Last I checked, I'm still an important member of the student council."

"Do you even go a meeting?"

"Yes and no? Listen, Brick. Point is, it's getting done!"

"Will there be a fallout?"

"You're shitting me? Of course not! You trust me, right?"

"Whatever," he flipped his booklet closed.

"Honestly Brick, if you tried being a bit nicer once in a while… I don't know… maybe life would be easier."

"I could be worse."

"Which is terrifyingly true, but I feel like you should direct some of that energy to finally confronting Blossom about your little issue. You know, you're not the only bloke in school with a crush on her. Some guys are more obvious. Not to mention, summer's right around the corner."

"How is that my problem? I told you already, I don't like her like that."

"I mean, if you want to believe that, continue. But I thought lying was a sin? Practicing Catholic, innit? Can't be you on judgement day."

"Just finish your diabetes."

He grabbed the glass and offered it generously, "You want a sip?"

"No."

.

.

Their eyes met more throughout the course of the school week. It started with just a glance or two during classes. Sometimes it'd be a stray wonder during a chat with her friends, but it'd progressed to a momentary pause whenever they happened across each other in the hallways.

He barely ever missed her presence. Blossom's silk-pressed autumn hair bunched up into an almost high ponytail was an unignorable statement in itself. She always walked with a poised posture. Her steps were even — almost calculated — and they hardly missed grace. Whatever. He knew he wore rose-coloured glasses when it came to her. It was that unavoidable something he had to accept. The type he'd give his best foot to hide.

This time, he had stalled behind one of his peers to discern the uncomfortable expression she wore. Her nails almost digging into her neck, fingers rolling the small curls that decorated her nape.

"I really think we should try this again." After their missed weekend had rolled over to weekday, Buttercup tried desperately to solidify her resolve.

"It's fine," Blossom fumbled with her locker, an embarrassed glance around the room as she used an easy-brush off. The smile on her face was a bit hoarse; false, "the big exam is so close I can literally taste it."

Though nulled to her random popups, Blossom's heart still wasn't prepared for Buttercup's usual gut-wrenching, heart-thumping entrances. The girl's voice seemed too crisp and loud for her stature. She usually walked on air; squeak-proof sneakers, never a dangling chain or charm, and even her breathing was chillingly soundless. The remains of their chit-chat felt strained and awkward on Blossom's part.

Sure, Buttercup appeared nice, but her inability to back-down made Blossom feel tense. Brick left under the laughing arm of a teammate. Through a neck-straining stare, he'd barely managed eye-contact before almost tripping down the stairs.

He never smiled back. A common theme with him. Unless he was laughing, a smile would look awkwardly misplaced on his face. Almost as if it was sadistically planned. It would have been nice if he'd at least given a wave. The half-nod he gave resembled a scoff. Most days Blossom wasn't sure if he was rigid, had been sizing her up, or just spaced out…

… which, he did a lot these days. As if the world in his head was far more interesting than his reality, or if he'd just had too much to think about.

"That's why we need a brain cooler." Buttercup always came on strong. "Come on! It'll be fun! My treat, okay?"

"After exams?" Blossom relented. The firmness of Buttercup's shoulders made her rephrase, "Or when things slow? Can't expect me to relax when I have mock exams coming through my ears."

Buttercup nodded in understanding, "I get that, but," she looked earnestly into Blossom's eyes, almost blushing from the fierceness that struck back, "You know that saying, all work and no play?"

"There's also the grasshopper and the ant."

"You're…" difficult, impossible, no-fun. The sentence was left unfinished; had to. Regrouping her thoughts, she dove into the more unsavoury parts of her mind for clarity. "It's just, I feel bad… you know? Cancelling so last minute was shitty of me." At this point, why was she even trying so hard? Desperate wasn't a good look on her, but she also hated the idea of losing.

"Oh no, it's fine!" She reassured. It appeared that Buttercup's thinking face was easily mistaken for some proud sense of melancholy. "The remaining listings were… well, there's not a nice way to say bad, is there? Oh and, look!" she fished her pockets for her cell, "There was a pop-up sale at this cute little boutique. I had a blast!"

"That is nice," she agreed, eyes watching in delight at some of the items before trailing to the little cracks in Blossom's skin. Buttercup would have said something, but she wasn't one to make people super self-conscious. "The prices weren't that bad either."

"Innit!" there was a momentary burst of excitement before Blossom became guarded again. Her distance increased slightly after she pocketed her phone and it was time she closed her locker.

"Do I make you uncomfortable Blossom?" Buttercup squeezed lotion on her palms and feverishly rubbed. She carefully took her gaze off Blossom to relax the conversation's overtones.

Blossom didn't immediately answer. Just holstered her bag in wait for Buttercup's cue to descend the stairs. With hands gripping the railing, she forced her unwilling lips to spread apart, "Not really," she admitted, "I just don't get why you're trying to be so nice to me." She slowed her step as she explained, "We hardly know each other."

"Is it weird that I'd want to?" Buttercup walked ahead. Heck, even she didn't understand her motives. Sure, messing with Brick was fun and all, but this was different. This was a curious side project.

"But why?"

"How I see it," the words that escaped weren't scripted like the rest; pure truth. Something rare. Butch would be proud… well, if he still cared, "you're on good terms with two of my closest friends… I just figured it wouldn't hurt to get to know you better. Besides, I like your energy."

She rubbed her arms, "Thanks? I guess?" a tense pause before she rehashed her thoughts, "But I'm not particularly close with them either. We hung out a few times, a friendly text here and there but… that's all I guess." She hated how nonchalant and indifferent she sounded. Gosh, crud! "What I'm trying to say is," Okay, that came out too rough. Seriously, what was wrong with her? "Can't say we're close."

"Oh."

Buttercup chose silence until they reached the ground floor. It took two stories of crippling silence before Blossom heard her voice again and… well, it was disheartening.

"It's just, I don't know. It's hard enough to make new friends. I mean, see anyone really talking to me?" Her choice. Being social was draining. "I just… I guess I got over-excited with the idea of another skirt joining the group. I'm sorry about that. Really, I'll piss off now. Sorry to have bothered you." Could she manage a fake whimper, or would that be pushing it too far? She had a feeling Blossom had caught on to her bullshit midway, so it was probably for the best she'd stop wallowing in fake sadness.

.

.

For what it's worth, it worked.

.

.

.

Pressuring Blossom to concede was not Buttercup's finest moment. The guilt from the forced agreement was near crippling. Luckily, the pitted bile of self-hatred and disgust behind her throat had gotten swallowed with victory after she followed Butch into the café.

They'd both been overdressed. Buttercup in palazzo pants and a classy silk crop top. Butch as though he was at a brunch; navy blue blazer, light pink shirt, and fucking khakis.

"Butch, take off your jacket." She immediately warned. Boomer and Brick were an obvious pair. Their laughter had a distinct attention-drawing breathlessness to it. Brick's eyes met Buttercup's with almost no sort of recognition. Amazing how she'd refer to someone like him as a close friend. Her bar was terribly low.

"Blossom's late?" she asked, easily grabbing a seat.

"No, in the kitchen."

"Oh, she works here?" Buttercup soaked in the ambiance as she made herself comfortable.

Boomer shrugged indifferently. Butch's blazer was too hilarious to ignore. Not to mention the pomade? Butch seriously used pomade? "Cold mate?"

Save for Butch and Buttercup's bickering about their out-of-place attire, the conversations started off stiff. After the much-needed catching up, venting, and light-hearted checking in, the group had managed to reach a level of comfort with each other. Bubbles didn't know or understood how she'd gotten dragged into the mix. After Butch mentioned something about 'a creepy little blonde' staring at them, Blossom gave a light introduction and the rest was history. Bubbles couldn't get out even if she wanted to.

Near three hours elapsed. They were laughing inside the closed café under the protection of the steel security roller that barricaded the cafe's glass walls. The TV streamed a classic movie while a waft of malt floated through the room. It was rumoured that teenagers tend to bond over good food and cheap pilfered alcohol, but in the end, all good things would come to pass.

"We should head out now." Butch's eyes were reddened and heavy.

"I don't think that's wise," Blossom barely took a sip. The crisp orchard taste she loved from a Rosé was vacant in that pilfered near-expired six-pack they shared. She'd barely managed to drink half before she'd offered it to the sink. Though none of them cared for the tactile taste of dry wine, she was still wary of clouded minds.

Butch watched her evenly before relenting. At school, they'd been having a lot of silent conversations lately. First and foremost, he'd always have Brick's back. Something about Blossom didn't sit quite right with him. The recent shifts in her character made the fractures in her 'perfect' image more exposed than usual. Though he had nothing against her personally, his trust wasn't something easily gained.

She sipped her coffee tentatively. Her eyes assessed his every motion and body movement before quickly becoming defensive. He chuckled hoarsely, expression relaxing and his chest heaving, "She's right mates! Tengo sed." Her hands poured cold water into his glass way too quickly. "Thanks."

"We should prank call someone!" Buttercup grinned. "Tell them their refrigerator is running or something!"

"How much did you have to drink?" Boomer grimaced, "What are you? Ten?"

Loud laughter, greedy snacking, and chatter filled the silent parts of the room. It seemed that everyone was having fun, that was if you excluded Brick. God knows why he'd become so solemn and closed-off at the end of the table. He'd been finger-scribbling diagrams onto the table as he mentally picked apart the café's furnishing.

"So, what's your deal?"

He felt no shame for ignoring Bubbles — it wasn't even in the pretend-he-didn't-hear-her way. Brick had looked her dead in her eyes before rolling his own with a scoff. Figures.

"Exams." His answer came after her unrivalled determination. The best way to go about someone with a bristly character like his was to face them head-on.

Was he scary?
Yes. Very.

Was she going to let that stop her?
Ha.

Brick's face was one that barely smiled. Which… was a shame, because not only was he easy on the eyes, he was a decent dresser. His scent was mature, faint, and unique. Something that made an impression; something that unconsciously drew people in. His hair? Clearly had better treatment than hers would ever have. He was, in all essence, the poster boy for meticulous people. Even if it was just a sub-conscious act, every step he made was to appease or strike awe. People like him conceded to those more stubborn than themselves. Hence, her time to shine. He wasn't ready for her!

Bright blue eyes beamed with a smile wider than the ones on her lips. If he thought she was going to be fine with one-word grunts, he was in for a surprise. No matter how nauseated he looked, she wasn't going to back down. She'd met worse than him… she met Princess.

"I can't imagine." She related, "I break out in hives just thinking about mines! Don't know what would happen when I reach your year."

Not that Boomer was eavesdropping, and he didn't mean to save Brick from socializing like a normal person, but, "What?" it just slipped out! Questions did that sometimes, "What form are you in?"

"Fifth," She turned, but not before giving Brick the 'I'm-not-done-with-you-yet-mister' glare.

His eyes opened wide, "Oh really?" momentary surprise, "I just assumed you were our age."

She giggled, "It's just a year!"

She looked back at Brick who'd forced the most sarcastic smile on his face before swallowing a mouthful of tea, "Your friend looks stressed." He'd caught the little bit of nudging in her voice and internally laughed at the poor attempt at manipulation.

"He's fine… maybe overworked," He grinned, his voice gearing up for his performance, "He just needs to learn how to relax!"

"Piss off Boomer," answered too quickly and too robotically, "I am relaxing."

Blossom jumped at the outburst. Her eyes leaned further down the group until they landed on the sour spot in the room. Brick's been carrying his chip long before their hangout. All the fun and games of the night had been a pleasant distraction, but when it died down, what was left was the irritation that weighed his shoulders.

She'd notice his shift before. A thoughtless glare here, a hard slam of his locker door there. It was kind of hard not to notice him during the week when he was struggling to keep his shit together. She'd always wanted to say something, ask something, but he wasn't exactly the easiest person to approach.

"Hey," The group failed to notice Blossom slip into the space next to Brick. How could they? After all, Boomer was finding all ways to distract and be distracted by Bubbles, Buttercup was video chatting with her friends and Butch was in limbo with sleeping, watching tv, and snacking.

"You okay?" Blossom just barely stopped her hand from holding his knee. Even if it was for comfort, some people did not like being touched. He seemed that type. She wasn't a fan of crossing personal boundaries.

He half-heartedly rolled his eyes. Watching her from the sidelines at school made him unreasonably knowledgeable of how she'd rather remain silent than offer anyone obligatory support. Her current concern was genuine. Kind of made him wonder if his behaviour was why Boomer'd been stuck to him lately. Sure, they were good friends; possibly best buds! However, they usually spent their school hours within their sporting circles, not each other.

"Tough day?" she asked.

Brick inspected the epoxy flooring for signs of chips. It was crazy and irrational, he knew, but he wasn't in the mood to bear his heart's troubles to her. He'd prefer wallowing over giving in to her kindness.

"Week?" she continued, the joke nearly reaching him. "Okay, I get it. Tough year! Seventeen must be hard."

"You think you're funny."

"You just smiled, didn't you?" little minx.

"You need glasses Bellum."

"Well, in Brick's world, any muscle twitch that isn't a frown would technically qualify as a smile."

"Don't you mean 'in Blossom's world'?"

"Hey, I don't make the rules." She threw her hands up in defense, "So? Ready to talk about it?"

"It's nothing."

She urged him gently, "Doesn't matter." And it didn't take long for them to push the conversation a few seats behind the others.

.

.

"Are you shitting me?" Boomer enunciated, "That's amazing! I'd kill for one of those!"

"Hopefully not me," Bubbles joked, "And I know it sounds cool to you but back then I started studying art because everyone wanted to be a designer."

Boomer blew out air, "Not everyone."

They bonded. Him leaning on the knuckles of his propped arm and her with her two arms wrapped on the tabletop. She hesitated a lot during the exchange. Though being friendly with others was second nature to her, she'd always feared her talking about herself would appear to be narcissistic and selfish.

"An art gallery?" he seemed impressed.

While she talked her dreams down, Boomer searched for little ticks of her 'tell'. Her shyness was one he could barely understand. He was still trying to discern whether it was genuine or a humblebrag. Knowing and understanding a person's intentions was a pastime he generously benefitted from. It didn't hurt that he'd stolen some of her time in the process.

"Nothing's wrong with branching out if you're still unsure. Better sooner than later."

This was when she got tongue-tied, "But then there's girls like Lexi Bridgestone who's just…" Bubbles sighed. "I mean, I don't even know why I'm trying! It's… a long story… one for another time?" because he kept returning to the café, "But… it still wouldn't hurt right? I didn't get a spot to work background so… I don't know Ainsley; I feel like my life's just me grasping straws and pulling shitty shorts."

"Sorry, all I heard were a bunch of excuses. You'd never know unless you try." Who was he to be giving her advice? Had he been in the same position, he'd find the most pleasant yet obscene way of telling everyone to go dog it with their pinkie finger since he hated extra effort.

"I don't think they'd cast pity parts like the rock, the tree, or the breeze, Ainsley."

"Boomer," he corrected. He pondered on his answer before leaving an easy smile, "I think your hair makes you the sun." His hands moved animatedly as if crowning his head, "So big and bright!"

"Funny," she playfully shoved, "You're very funny."

When the conversation dulled and the watch on his hand showed an absurd hour, Boomer asked, "It's late. You're sure it's okay for us to still be here?"

The question perplexed her. Security was tight and for any ominous sounds, there were decently placed cameras they could check. "Yes?"

"Well, it's about a quarter to ten and… I'm starting to believe daring Butch over there to down his beer in ten seconds was stupid," it was, very. "Is 15% bad? And… there was wine. I'm just worried because… he has to drive Buttercup home too."

"Don't," Buttercup mumbled, "The beer tasted like shit, of course he didn't drink it. And sorry blondie, he spit it out in your plant." She angled her phone and moved closer to Bubbles. "If you need a witness for your reimbursement case, I'm available. He's not getting away with herbicide."

"Some friend you are," Boomer groaned, "Snitch."

She rolled her eyes, "He's just sleeping, he's fine."

Boomer craned until he could see the voice chat's participants, "Is that Chloe? Tell her I said hi!"

Buttercup gave Boomer a depthless snare before retreating to the back. The action brought attention to both Blossom and Brick who were curled over a tablet studying. Sure, Brick was the type to spend most of his daylight fooling around, but his after-hours were dedicated to studying.

Was he overcompensating for his nonchalance? Maybe. The guilt that weighed his mind got heavier after late-night cramming was no longer an easy solution. There was work that needed to be done in order to secure his spot in a decent university. Forget the offers that occasionally danced near his ears. Only five felt solid. Of those options, three were just safeties, one was decent but partial, and the last seemed like a short cry from a community college. He wanted something akin to Ivy league. More importantly, he was gunning for a Citiesville Institute of Technology (CvIT) scholarship. At the level he was at now, he was lucky enough to get accepted. A full ride? The whole thing just…

"You have to pay special attention to the spelling of the sugars and proteins or else you'll lose marks as you did right here. Now in this section, you're mixing up the steps in the Golgi apparatus." Blossom flinched. Though all he'd broken was a pencil point, the way he'd written a hole into the paper was unsettling, "Your knowledge is quite impressive to be honest. But there's certain fundamentals you keep overlooking. So, in this part, you have a decent idea of how to attack the question, but the premise of your understanding is a little off. See... look here..."

She was an amazing tutor. Her years of experience provided her resume with brownie points and fluffers. Would she get into education? Hell no. The salary would be an insult to her labour. She'd save her abilities for an understudy or her kids — should she have any.

.

.

.

Boomer wasn't surprised by the makeshift study session. Had he even half the invisible pressure as Brick, he'd probably cave to the insanity also. "What's that?" Boomer's mind was further than he'd like.

"Plans for college?" Bubbles reminded.

"Forensics, but not like the dead body type. Either ballistics, crime scene... or... I don't know! It's got to be tangible but not smelly." His words blurred into each other.

"Really?" she was in awe, "It's so… smart! I swear, it makes mines sound so dumb now."

"Why? You like it right? Art and all that creative stuff."

"Aren't you supposed to ask if I'm any good at it?" she giggled, "I'm trying to make it a career, not a hobby."

"But it's a gallery you want to open, innit? Stores don't have to sell their own merch. It matters?"

"It does. I want to showcase my work."

"Well then, are you any good?"

"You're asking because I asked you to, or because you mean it?"

He seemed as though he thought it over briefly before just shrugging. His apathetic traits irked her enough to slip a huff, "Never mind." She felt as though she'd become bothered about nothing. "Sorry?"

"Can I see one of your works?"

She shuffled her apron until her phone slid into vision. Her canvases were personal. Save for her school submissions, she wasn't ready to show them to anyone, especially not a recently frequent customer. Her photography was fair game though, "I'm new to this, so it's rough."

What stood out to him was the strange angles of the light, "Can I?" His hand lightly accepting the phone, "Gelled light…" his mumbles were meant for himself, but his intrigue made him more audible than he'd prefer.

"It's that obvious?"

"No," he quickly denied, "Not at first, but there's two light sources in the picture… see how the shadows hit here and there." He pointed out, "And then there's this… You see how this part of the picture has mute lighting but the one that hits the doll looks like sunset? And its shadow is really dark. The umbra and penumbras don't match." Physics was always one of Boomer's favourite classes.

Bubbles slapped her forehead, "I suck. Gosh! How did I not see that?"

"It's fine, the point is you got Squirtle's best feature on camera. I say it's good work!"

"My lighting was inconsistent Ains–" he all but glared, "Boomer." She quickly fixed her sentence, "I don't know if it's because I'm that bad or you've got a good eye."

"It's the latter," Buttercup intervened, "That boy's better than the village's curtain twitcher."

"Guess you're done with your call. Welcome back to the group Buttercup."

She pinched his cheeks, "Who taught you to be so snarky? Huh? It's Brick innit? What am I going to do with you now?"

.

.

It was late.
Butch was snoring.
Boomer was fixated on the time.
They needed to get home.

.

.

"You should drive," Trusting Butch to keep his eyes open on the road was not something he could do.

"I'm fine."

"See, he's fine." Buttercup sighed, "We'll go get coff– an energy drink or something."

"He's knackered Buttercup."

"And I don't got my license dipshit, so unless you're driv–"

"I will."

"What about your car?"

"Brick'll drive it."

"Okay, now see, that makes no sense! Why not Brick drive Butch's."

"Because I'm spending the night at Brick's."

"And how are you going to get there if–"

"He had no reservations with shushing her, "Brick! Heads up!"

Said boy's reflexes worked faster than his brain could comprehend, "Wha–"

"Pick me up at Butch's?" The question required no answer. He'd only posed it as one out of respect.

Brick glanced his tablet's time before pocketing the keys, "Didn't know it was this late."

"Me neither." Blossom gingerly replied through cascading hair. She'd originally untied it to ease the tension that came with studying, but it now became a hinderance.

"How're you two going home?"

"We live nearby, don't worry."

"Walking?"

"Don't be daft! My mum's picking us up. Don't worry, texting her now, see!"

He did, alongside a few unopened chats that piqued his curiosity.

"How long's she going to take?"

"About ten, twenty minutes max?"

"Yikes." He expressed.

"It wouldn't feel that long, we still have some cleaning up to do."

He grunted until he found comfort in his chair, "I wouldn't feel good leaving you and Bobbin here alone. I'll help you finish, then carry you girls home."

"Bubbles." She corrected, "And you really don't have to!" Did she accidentally imply she needed help? Oops.

"Whether I drop you off or your mum comes for you, I'm still not leaving you girls here alone."

She slumped her shoulders as she processed his words. Boomer and the others politely announced their leave as they fixed their seating back in place.

"Can you carry these in the kitchen for Bubbles?" She pointed towards the employee's only door, "I'm going for the broom."

"Yeah, sure."

She smiled, "One last thing Brick?"

"Hmm?"

She gave his shoulder a light pat before gripping slightly, "Thanks." She'd moved too slowly for a hug and… it would have been too awkward had he not reciprocated, or worse, denied it.

But to think that such a simple action could warrant such a reaction. Brick's smiles were as rare as they were beautiful. She couldn't help but think that if he'd frown less, the world would have opened up more to him.

.

Next:

Moments – There's always going to be that one person who'd push someone to lose their shit. Brick want's to say 'fuck it' and act without thinking but literally no one wants him to succeed his title of 'most likely to burn the school to the ground'. So there's that... and then there's Blossom, who enjoyed his company, and calmed him and... liked him? Maybe? Or was it all in his head? Heck, these days even Boomer was unsure (despite it being his favourite series for weeks).