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~Chapter Thirteen~

I Share a Heart-to-Heart with An Apple

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Later in the afternoon, Lucas took a quick run to the grocery store. I offered to make the trip for him, but Lucas declined, saying that I should go home, and that I should avoid getting whatever bug he's got. I wasn't too thrilled about him going alone, not after he'd gotten himself mugged, so I insisted on tagging along.

The first thing that greets us is the heater. As soon as the doors zing open, a tornado of hot air blasts us in the face.

It's a welcome change from the single digit hell outside.

We gratefully clamber inside.

The mart's packed. There's a good number of people here, but thankfully, the cold weather gives us an excuse to cover up.

My incompetence with fruit-picking is pretty damn evident from the minute we step into the produce aisle. Tugging the red woolen scarf from my sweaty neck, I pluck out an apple from its stand. "This good?"

"Let me see," Lucas says, reaching out, and I nearly drop the apple when his fingers lightly brush against the back of my palm. Oblivious to my reaction, Lucas rolls the Fuji apple in his hands, then props it back. "Nah. This one's too soft."

"How can you tell?"

"You feel for it."

"Oh, I see." I crouch down level to the apple and give a slow, sympathetic nod. "I feel for you, bro."

Lucas stifles a laugh. "Not like that."

I made him laugh. My heart does a flip-flop, and unable to keep the stupid grin from spreading across my face, I look at him. "Then show me."

To my surprise, Lucas goes beyond a verbal demonstration, holding the apple in one hand and tilting my wrist with the other. "You check for the luster first."

I bite down on my lower lip. I'm pretty sure my face is as red as the damn apple. "Luster. Right."

"Then you check for a firm grip," he murmurs, carefully squeezing the apple over my fingers. "Like so."

"Uhuh." My eyes hopefully flicker to Lucas's face for a reaction, but it's disappointingly inexpressive. "And then...?"

Lucas withdraws his hand. "That's all there is to it," he says matter-of-factly, then walks away to check on the eggs.

God, he's so dense.

I try dropping more hints, nagging him about every vegetable I see. To my growing dismay, Lucas answers my questions the best he can, but doesn't reach for my hand again. Trying not to overthink it, I pinch myself in the arm. I know that I'm over-reacting. Lucas has made his feelings clear, and he isn't interested.

Currently.

A part of me can't help but hope. Lucas hadn't been entirely against liking me. He's had feelings for me before. I can wait for him to like me again.

Yeah, as if. I wince, thinking about how shaken up he was yesterday night. Touching Lucas is like treading on eggshells. One false move, and he'd crack. He's already so uncomfortable with me hugging him.

Deep down, I know that expecting anything more is all wishful thinking. Lucas has already rejected me. He isn't the kind of person to go back on his word.

I can't risk pushing him away.

As I wait for Lucas to pay for his groceries in the sluggish checkout line, I find my eyes drifting to his shirt. He's wearing another one of his dorky old t-shirts again, a forest green one that says Crying is my Cardio. I stifle a laugh. No wonder Lucas stays silent. His apparel speaks volumes about his character before he even opens his mouth.

But Lucas doesn't look out of place here. Nothing about him screams, I'M FROM THE FUTURE. If he's even from the future. Hell, after watching Lucas struggle with a computer in third grade like it was some sort of alien contraption, I can safely confirm that he's from the past.

My eyes flicker to his face, and I notice how his forehead has creased into a light frown. Well, if it isn't the stupid, zoned-out look Lucas gets whenever he's lost in thought.

What a dork.

Waving furiously like an obnoxious five-year-old, I successfully manage to catch his attention. Lucas arches an eyebrow. When I scrunch up my nose and stick out my tongue in playful cheek, Lucas drops the expression and makes a silly face back.

He's out of my league. Out of my time, out of my league.

On the bus ride home, we end up sharing a seat. Pressed against the window, Lucas soundly destroys game after game on my phone, and halfway through his murderous plight to secure my top score in Temple Run, I peer over his shoulder in time to see a crowd of mutant monkeys devour his avatar. "Haha, you suck."

"The lag is real."

"Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that."

Lucas's eyes flicker back to the screen. "Is that a challenge."

I swipe my phone back. "Hell yeah. I'm winning for sure."

Exactly one minute and forty seconds later, the dreaded Game Over flashes across my screen. Even without looking, Lucas has somehow tasted my humiliating defeat.

"You were saying," he says, and a hint of a smirk tugs on the corners of his lips.

I slam my hands into the bus seat. "Best two out of three!"

Lucas's smirk widens. "You're on."

I don't suck at Temple Run. I like to think that I'm fairly decent, but even I have to admit that it's pretty damn hard to concentrate when all I can think about is Lucas's stupid knee bumping against my thigh every couple of seconds from the jostling bus, and as much as I want to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, a part of me keeps wanting to smirk along at the same time.

After what is a lousy, one-sided competition, Lucas returns my phone with an alcohol wipe. Though he's been telling me to keep my distance because he's sick, I don't mind as much. It's not like he's coughing or anything. Besides, it's been a while since we've caught up. If I get sick as a result... oh well. I'll be sure to regret it later.

Lucas shifts into his seat so that he's no longer pressed against the window. Something's bothering him, and I can tell by the way his forehead creases slightly in thought. "Ness, did you play your game before."

"My game?"

"Earthbound."

Strange question. I muse over it. "Once. It's back at home right now, but I remember that it was pretty accurate," I say honestly. "No, seriously. It's creepy how accurate they got my adventure down. Every detail was on there. Even shit I forgot. It came close to the real deal."

Lucas's frown deepens. "Where did you get it."

"I was lucky. I got the first copy straight from the gaming company when it was in production." I glance at Lucas, but as always, I can't read the expression on his face. "What's with all the questions?" I joke instead, elbowing him in the side. "Are you interrogating me?"

Slumped against the window, Lucas stares at the glowing highway lights. "I don't remember anything about my adventure."

My smile falls, and I close my mouth. His words echo an eerily familiar line from Master Hand: Lucas is not from your time. Neither of you should have met in the first place.

"Maybe it was so traumatic that you forgot everything," I suggest. "Like, maybe you accidentally stepped into a girls' locker room while they were changing and-" Lucas flusters, and of course, I laugh at him like the dick I am. "Kidding. Well, if you wanna know, all you have to do to find your cartridge and play it. Problem solved."

"Easier said than done."

"Ask Master Hand. He's got all our games for personal record. I mean, it's not like he'll say no."

What seems like a troubled look flashes across Lucas's face. "Perhaps. I can ask him again," he mumbles, but he doesn't sound convinced. Ha, he's zoning out again. Might as well put up a LOST IN THOUGHT sign there. When I realize that I'm still staring at him like a total creep, I quickly turn around and press my lips together, trying not to give into the warm prickling feeling threatening to boil into my cheeks.

Lucas still hasn't brought it up, and neither have I. It's as if last night had never happened.

Seventeen hours ago, I kissed my best friend.

Whatever my guilty fantasies were, I didn't intend on going that far. What started off as nothing but a bunch of hot air, a Ha, in your face! to prove that I was getting over my feelings had somehow gone horribly, horribly wrong, because in the heat of the moment, my declaration turned into a real challenge, and it suddenly became so important for me to win dammit and wipe that stupid smirk off of Lucas's face.

And I did. I mentally congratulated myself, pleased by the stunned look on Lucas's face, by the indignant loss dawning in his eyes, and my brain shot a mental fist into the air in celebration like hell yeah, that showed him!

For the longest time, my nerves kept me awake. I stayed up through the night, happily dazed and drunk over Lucas's surprised expression, over the way his cheeks had flushed beautifully, undone by my hands, over the slight hitch in his breath, over how soft his lips had felt pressed against mine, and I'd wanted so much more.

But when I woke up this morning, all I could remember was the uncomfortable look in Lucas's eyes and how stiff his shoulders had felt under my hands.

Uncertain, I fiddle with the brim of my cap. I didn't jump him. I didn't force myself on him. I asked him once - no, twice - and while Lucas can be a real pushover to many other people, he never had trouble holding his ground against me. If he didn't want to do the bet, then he would've said no. Or he would've shoved me away. Or he would've run away as fast as his lanky legs could carry him in the opposite direction of my lips.

He would've said no. He could've said no.

Shame colors my cheeks. Oh, who was I kidding? I should've backed off. I knew that Lucas had never wanted it, never had and never would've, and still I pushed him until he caved in and said yes. Horrified, I freeze in mid-thought. Is that what happened? Did I guilt-trip him into doing something he didn't want to do? Aargh I fucked up!

"-ook too well."

Wait, is he talking to me? I risk a peek between my fingers and - yeah, he is. Lucas watches me, his own parted fingers frozen towards my face. He withdraws his hand, rubbing it with the other. "Do you have a headache."

"I'm stupid."

Lucas stifles a smirk behind his hand. "That's news."

Scowling, I punch him hard in the shoulder, and feel no small satisfaction when Lucas betrays a soft ow and rubs his sore arm. Serves him right.

Lucas props himself back up. "I'm surprised that Master Hand let you leave the mansion without backup."

"Me too."

The lazy mood vanishes as quickly as it arrived. Lucas straightens his back into a tense line. His voice takes on a sharp edge. "...You can't be serious."

"About what?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Okay, so I did leave without telling anyone. Master Hand said you had to be quarantined, but everyone knew it was bogus-" When Lucas's hard expression doesn't waver, I ball up my fists. "What was I supposed to do? You were gone for days, and it happened after the night you... in the closet..." My face flushes, but I refuse to back down. "And your dad-"

"You read my mail," Lucas says suddenly.

Busted. I shift my eyes to the side with a nervous laugh. "...maybe? We didn't dig through your stuff. Toon found it open on your desk."

With a low groan, Lucas buries his face in his hands. "Of course you did. I should've known that you'd go off and do something stupid-"

"Oh, so now I'm the stupid one."

"I'm serious. You need to return to the mansion before Master Hand finds out-"

"He's not gonna find out!"

"Ness." We're nose-to-nose now. I catch a muscle twitching in Lucas's jaw, and he's speaking each word very slowly as if trying not to lose his cool. "You can't do whatever you want whenever you feel like it."

"Hmm, lemme think." I sit up in my seat. "Oh yeah, wait a fucking minute, I can visit you because I'm on sick leave!"

"I won't let you risk your job for a stupid excuse-"

"Well, I think you're more important to me than my stupid job!" I yell.

The entire bus falls into an abrupt hush. Mortified, I clam up.

A frustrated expression flickers across Lucas's eyes. He opens his mouth, but I quickly turn away, resisting the urge to punch myself in the face. A few curious onlookers glance in my direction, but hastily avert their eyes when I shoot them down with a glare. Worse still, I can't shake off the horrible feeling of disappointment in Lucas's voice. He makes me feel like a kid. A selfish little kid who couldn't spare the time to think for two seconds and threw a tantrum whenever he couldn't get what he wanted.

Because Lucas is right. He's right, and I'm wrong. Apparently. Always. Every time. Well, not today. I cross my arms. He's wrong. I like brawling. I do take my job seriously.

My shoulders sag. Just because Lucas never brought his dad up didn't mean that he was being abused. I misread the situation from the very start, and now it looked like I'd recklessly tossed my responsibilities aside to chase after his heart.

Small wonder Lucas was mad at me.

No, not mad.

Upset.

I clench my fists tighter into my lap. Stupid feelings. Stupid, stupid feelings. I hated myself for falling for him. I hated myself for not being able to push him away. Now nothing was the same and everything was awkward because I couldn't stop myself from kissing him last night.

I wanted to cry.

But I've been crying all week and honestly, crying in front of Lucas again is pretty pathetic, so I suck it up. My name is Mister TOUGH Ness. I'm invincible to heartbreak.

Taking a deep breath, I try to smile. "My bad. Didn't mean to draw attention."

Lucas isn't smiling. Pale-faced, he stares fixedly at his hands.

My throat turns dry. "Hey." When he doesn't respond, the smile drops from my face. I reach for his shoulder. "Lucas-"

As if scalded, Lucas jerks himself out of reach. "Don't."

Hurt, I withdraw my hand. "I wasn't going to-"

"Leave me alone, Ness."

He sounds so tired and so done with my shit that I drop it. Scowling, I turn back around. For the past week, I spent every waking hour tormenting myself over Lucas's absence. I imagined that Master Hand had sent Lucas into some dangerous mission. I imagined that he was deathly sick. I imagined that he had gotten himself into serious danger. Now, he's acting all... cold and unfriendly whenever I show any sign that I care about him. Am I not allowed to care about him? Is that it? I'm his best friend. I'm supposed to care!

I puff up my cheeks. Well, fine. If Lucas wanted to pull the immature card and ignore me, then two could play that game. Stewing in growing resentment, I glower at the rocking floor of the bus.

In the end, my childish resolve fails. Lucas has the eternal patience of a clam.

Me? Not so much. My simmering anger has fizzled off somewhere by the minute mark. I can't help it. No matter how hard I try, I can't stay mad at him. I just can't. Not when it's my fault for confessing my feelings and making our friendship weird.

Miserably, I lower my eyes. If I'm the kind of person who gets riled up easily, then Lucas is the opposite. I know it takes a lot for him to get upset, and whenever he is, his bad mood hangs over his head like a silent thundercloud.

I try again. This time, I know better than to touch him. "Hey," I say quietly.

"..."

"Okay, I give up. You win."

"..."

"Lucas," I beg. "You were right. I'm sorry. I should've cared about my fucking job and left you alone-"

"That's not- Lucas heaves a weary sigh, then slouches over in his seat. "...You really are something else."

I stare at him. It starts off small, but then the giggles escape from my shoulders. Why were we fighting? This whole thing's pretty dumb. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I mean."

"I'm a handful," I agree.

"I won't argue with that," Lucas murmurs, dropping his eyes onto the floor. "It scares me how uncannily you resemble my brother."

"In what way?"

"Well for one, you're obnoxious-"

"Wow, don't I feel special."

"-you're rash and reckless and act before you think-"

I roll my eyes. "Well, don't stop rolling in the praise."

"-but in the end, you mean well." Lucas's eyes flicker to the window. "My brother never lost sight of what was right. Neither do you." A short pause. Lucas starts quietly, "I'm not mad, Ness. I'm worried."

His reassurance, as quiet as it is, quickly dissipates my anxiety. I reach for his hand. This time, Lucas doesn't pull away. "You don't have to worry-"

"I'm worried about you."

I stifle a snort of laughter into my hand. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Says the guy who got beaten up last week."

"You can't dive headfirst into something and always expect it to go all right," Lucas says solemnly, and while he's lightened up a little, there's a heavy weight in those words. It rings with a tragedy that makes my heart sink faster than the fucking Titanic.

I don't know what to say. So I sock him in the shoulder. The words come out easier this way. "Yolo," I say just as seriously, acting like this lameass 2012 phrase is actually a pearl stacked with infinite wisdom. But Lucas should get the point.

And get it, he does.

Lucas contemplates this. Then he ducks his head in a quiet snort of laughter. "That's sounds like something my brother would've said."

His twin brother, huh? I kick my legs underneath the crappy bus seat. Considering Lucas has technically bro-zoned me, comparing me to his brother is either the highest honor... or the worst insult Lucas could've thrown at me. I decide to take it as the former. "You should ask him over to visit one day."

Resting his head against the window, Lucas closes his eyes. "One day. When he returns home."

Well, isn't that vague. Lucas said that his brother wasn't home... maybe he's at some boarding school somewhere. I'm surprised I've never even heard of his brother until now. Is he dead too? The assumption isn't funny - it's plain sad - but I laugh quietly at the sheer absurdity of that thought. Dead mom, deadbeat dad, dead brother... what are the odds? Yeah, that'd be seriously fucked up.

Either way... huh. Lucas is far more attached to his brother than he shows. I scoot over, peering up into his face.

Lucas cracks an eye open. "What are you staring at," he deadpans, and thinking of last night, I break into a stupid grin.

"You."

Instantly, Lucas leans away with a fake-disgusted "euurgh." Playing along, I sock him repeatedly in the shoulder until Lucas gives in with a wheeze of laughter, raising his arms in a pathetic attempt to ward me off.

He's too adorable.

Lucas stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Fine, I'll do my best to take care of myself, only if you'll do the same." His voice turns uncertain. "Though on second thought, maybe you should've helped the others find their way back to the Mansion-"

"Oh, they'll be fine," I say peevishly, still annoyed by Popo's snide parting remarks, and Lucas gives another quiet laugh under his breath.

Earlier today, our four party troupe started prepping for the long subway ride back. With Popo brushing his teeth in the bathroom and Toon adding the final touches to polishing his sword, I glanced at the closed bedroom down the corridor, half-hoping, half-fearing that Lucas would come storming out, rigid and stiff-faced in all his six foot twiggy glory to beat the everliving crap out of me because I deserved it. Or that Lucas, deeply mortified and flushing down to the back of his skinny arms, would brush past me into the kitchen like I didn't exist and boil his tea kettle into an overboiled mess of steam.

As it turned out, neither of those things happened.

Fifteen minutes later, we crowded around Lucas's bed, stunned by the unexpected turn of events. Lucas hadn't gone out of bed at all.

Or rather, he hadn't because he couldn't.

"Dude, did you actually get sick?" Popo exclaimed.

Lucas's fingers curled over his sheets. His voice was barely a hoarse whisper. "I can take care of myself. Go before you miss the train."

I winced, hearing the unpleasant rasp grate against my ears. After Lucas moved the electric heater into the living room for us, it never occurred to me that he'd slept in the cold.

Noble idiot.

With a deep frown, Red rested a hand on Lucas's forehead. He quickly withdrew it with a sharp breath. "Fever."

"Mostly chills," Lucas muttered. He sounded exhausted. "It'll pass. I've got soup in the kitchen, and benadryl in the top cabinet-"

"I think that one of us should stay behind to make sure you get better," Toon worried.

"It might be contagious-"

Popo snorted. "Then it's settled. Ness, you take responsibility."

I snapped my head up. "Why me?"

"Uh, because you're psychic?" In a no, duh manner of speaking, Popo wiggled his eyebrows. "What are you waiting for, dude, do your little hocus pocus and sha-baam, Lucas will be fine-"

"I can't," I said irritably. "My healing magic only works for common colds and injuries. It doesn't work for fevers."

Popo nodded sagely. "Ah, no wonder you're still sick. Lovesick-"

Furious, I whirled around and smacked Popo in the arm. We started to squabble loudly, which wasn't doing Lucas any favors, but Red quickly stepped in between us and pulled us apart.

"Behave," Red said like we were a pack of wild Pokemon.

When he deemed the situation to be sufficiently neutralized, Red dropped us onto the ground and turned around, disappearing down the hallway. Shamefaced, I pushed myself back up to my feet, but not before Popo muttered something inappropriate under his breath that made my face light up like a firecracker.

Tugging the brim of my cap over my furiously blushing face, I tried not to look Lucas in the eye. "My home's here in Onett. I'll stay behind."

Lucas blearily rubbed his eyes. "You don't have to-"

"It's my fault we kept you up last night," I said stubbornly.

"You didn't keep me up-"

I flicked him in the forehead. "Uh-huh. Shut up and sleep."

Red materialized on the threshold with a glass of water and a plastic container. He must have picked up the cold medicine from the kitchen.

"Thanks," Lucas said wearily. "Don't miss the subway."

Red nodded.

"Remember, kids, always wear protection!" Popo announced, placing his hands on his hips, and it was all I could do not to strangle him for the second time in the past twenty four hours.

As if sensing my murderous mood, Toon yelped, pushing Popo out the door. "W-We're heading out! Lucas, get better!"

Lucas's quiet response floated after us.

I teleported the rest of my friends out to the station. The entire time, Popo kept oohing and aahing, wiggling his eyebrows and cracking stupid jokes about practicing safe sex. At first, he seemed like he'd known more than he let on, but I quickly realized that Popo was just being Popo.

Tired of his lewd comments, both Red and Toon finally whirled around and slapped Popo in the back, forcing him to stagger forward into the parking lot. Then with the air of taking trash out, the two of them clamped a hand around each of his shoulders and marched Popo off like the British Royal Brigade. Listening to Popo's traumatized wails fade into the distance, I'd cheerfully waved them Sayonara and teleported back to the apartment.

Lucas hadn't died in the short time I'd left him behind, thank god. My worries assuaged, I was left shuffling awkwardly in place, and after some serious internal debate, slowly sat back down.

It was just the two of us. Alone.

This was officially the worst day of my life.

The bus dips into a pothole, roughly jostling my elbow right into Lucas's stomach. After an episode of me wildly panicking over his doubled-over form, and Lucas repeatedly reassuring me that the blow hadn't killed him, any residual awkwardness is thankfully averted when Lucas jerks his head down into a quiet sneeze.

Ah, bless him.

I tell him such.

"Thanks," Lucas croaks. His eyes look glazed and out-of-focus. Damn, forget chills, Lucas looks downright miserable.

"Why didn't you take the heater back this morning?" I say furiously, even though I already know the answer. I'm only venting at this point. "See, this is the kind of shit that happens when you wander around late at night. You don't wrap up warm, it gets cold, and you get sick-"

"I don't wander around at night," Lucas protests, stifling another sniffle. "I missed the bus from Twoson and had to walk back-"

I jerked my head back in surprise. "Twoson? What were you doing in Twoson?"

"I wanted to spend some time away from home."

Understandable. I know that feeling all too well.

Watching the trees blur past, I rest my head against the cracked, spongy seat.

Lucas slowly dips his head. His breathing sounds low and ragged. "Your mom's worried sick about you."

"I'll call her later-"

"You're in town. You should go see her as soon as you can."

"I will. I mean, I'm not going to stay at your place overnight!" I say, pretending to sound offended. "What do you take me for, a freeloader?"

"Glad to see that we're on the same page," he agrees.

I flick him in the forehead. "You're the worst."

"Right back at you."

Hmm. Not a bad comeback. I silently tuck the phrase into mind for future reference.

Lucas's frown deepens. No shit, he's picked up on my sudden disquiet. "Why are you avoiding her."

"I'm not avoiding her," I say feebly, but when Lucas shoots me a flat look, I wince, involuntarily betraying myself. Damn it, he keeps seeing through me.

My shoulders sag over. "Okay, I miss my mom, but I'm afraid of going back," I admit, fiddling with the brim of my cap. All of a sudden, my skin feels cold and clammy. "The last time I went home... was the last time I saw my dad."

Lucas's expression turns serious. "Your mom needs you as much as you need her," he says, I'm taken aback by the firm conviction in his voice.

"All right, I'll go home as soon as we land," I mutter. When Lucas gives a low hum of agreement, my eyes flicker to his, and it's all I can do not to think hey I kissed this stupid face last night. Then it dawns on me that I really did kiss him, and my mouth falls open on its own accord like a gaping fish.

Lucas uncomfortably shifts in his seat. Crap, no doubt he's starting to feel the awkward wall between us. I have to get rid of it fast. This is a feat that calls for subtlety. I bite the inside of my cheek. Yeah, sure. I can pull off subtle.

"I'm sorry I kissed you," I blurt out.

Whelp, there went subtle. Right out the window.

Lucas's face turns a fierce shade of scarlet. He's suddenly not looking my way, and his Adam's apple dips as he swallows. "It was a dare, Ness. You don't have to apologize."

I manage to find my voice. "Right," I say, nodding furiously. "It was a dare. Between friends."

"Lucas is aware of your feelings for him. He will not encourage them, and you will do the same. If necessary, I will separate you into different rooms. And if worst comes to worst, I will take disciplinary measures... Measures you won't be happy for me to take. Do you understand?"

It's for the best.

Unable to look him in the face, my eyes glue themselves to my shoes. "So... it took me a while, but I sorted everything out last night." I take a deep breath and quickly spew it out. "Idon'tactuallylikeyou! Well, I mean... I think I really liked you a lot as a friend and got confused-" I feel my own cheeks turn hot like a furnace. Okay, this is getting way too cheesy and OoC for my taste. I force a grin and sock him in the shoulder. "Ha. Haha, got you! April fools!"

"It's early November."

"Same difference," I say cheerfully, clapping a hand on his shoulder and forcing myself to ignore the painful pang in my chest. "Like I said, I was kidding, Lucas, so stop taking everything I say so seriously."

A hint of a frown creases Lucas's forehead.

He isn't fooled.

I drop the smile. "No, seriously," I mumble, playing with my fingers. "I do like you, but I realized it wasn't... it wasn't in that way. I got homesick, and you're from Onett too, so I - Lucas, you know how I get when I get homesick." Still feeling his eyes X-ray me, I bury my furiously blushing face into my hands. "Please, Lucas," I beg, squirming in the spot. "If you have even the smallest shred of mercy inside that cold heart of yours, swear to Mount Everest that you'll never bring this back up again."

Lucas breaks into that stupid smirk of his. "Oh, I don't know, Ness. I like you a lot too-"

Dying from mortification, I punch him in the stomach. "Shut upppp," I wail.

Lucas relaxes back into his seat with a warm smile. His feverish eyes flicker over the ceiling of the bus. "Then we can forget about last night. It never happened."

But it did happen. I tasted him on my lips. I skimmed my fingers across the back of his head, untangled the knots in the golden strands of his hair. Suddenly, the ache in my chest doubles, and I have to resist the urge to press my hands against my ribs because it really feels as if my heart is painfully pounding its way out of my chest. I open my mouth, but don't know what to say. What can I say? That I liked kissing him? That I still wasn't over him yet? That I wanted to forget about the way his eyes would magically draw mine in for a smile, but didn't know how?

Lucas's like and my like are two very different likes. Lucas never had real friends before. Hell, what he thought was a crush had probably been some sort of lingering attachment. He'd even said it himself. Puppy love. Nothing serious.

"I think I had a crush once, but it's not exactly the same thing."

It makes sense. I'm the first friend he's ever had. Of course he's attached to me. It's like the chicken-and-egg thing - you know, where the baby chick follows the first moving thing it sees and calls it friend... Imprinting. Yeah, that!

I scrunch up my eyes. I don't love him. I don't love him. I don't love him. Maybe if I keep repeating it enough times in my head, it'll become the truth. I'll get over my stupid crush, everything will turn back to normal, and Lucas will stop looking at me with that carefully guarded look in his eyes. I've known him long enough to know that the blank look on his face was a defensive mask, a shield Lucas hid behind whenever he felt unsettled.

I want him to be happy. Even if it means swallowing down my feelings for him.

Lucas is my friend. That has always come first, and that would never change.

The bus lurches again. I tug the brim of my hat over my face. It's a good thing that Lucas is sick, because on any other day, he would've noticed that I'd lied to his face.

Sliding on our bags, we step out at the local bakery. The bus rattles away in a puff of smoke, and I lift my head, inhaling the buttery smell of fresh croissants. I excitedly point out the fat fruit tarts glistening proudly in the front display of Paris Baguette, and we stand, admiring the bakery. I declare how their new choux cream bites are the bomb, but Lucas is quick to disagree, pointing out that their traditional nut bread is better. We end up bickering all the way to the end of the block.

I successfully mess up his hair once more for good measure before fondly shoving him forward. "You're sick. Go sleep it off."

"I will." Lucas's eyes have yet to leave my face, and intimidated by his X-ray scrutiny, I swallow hard and resist the urge to duck my head. Bracing myself with a deep breath, I square my shoulders and look him straight in the eye. Challenging him, challenging myself. I have to prove it. I didn't love him, I didn't love him, I didn't, didn't, didn't-

Shifting his eyes to the sky, Lucas breaks into a small smile. "It's snowing."

The sudden break in silence throws me off. "Uhduhuh," I sputter. Horrified, I cover my mortified face with the brim of my cap. Ahhhh, shit! Fuck! What is wrong with me?

Something cold touches my nose. Momentarily distracted from my embarrassment, I perk my head up in excitement. Snow! In a sudden bout of childishness, I whirl around, extend my arms in a circle, and open my mouth. A snowflake melts on my tongue.

I probably look like an idiot, hopping around and sticking my tongue out into open air, but Lucas giving into choked laughter makes everything so much more worth it. I grin wider. It's been a while since I've seen Lucas smile so much in one day, and his happiness is infectious.

"Joo shoo faste uhn doo," I say.

"You look stupid," he says back.

I punch him in the shoulder.

"In a good way," he corrects himself.

I punch him in the shoulder again.

Lucas groans and rubs his right arm. "I swear, this is child abuse."

"Fine." I stagger over and punch his other shoulder. "Better?"

"I think you killed both of my arms."

Grinning like a fool, I hitch up my backpack. "Well, I'm heading home. See ya, Casanova."

The sound of snow crunching from behind forces me to do a complete one-eighty. Coming to a full stop himself, Lucas uncomfortably hunches his shoulders over the snow, and I raise an eyebrow in question. Strange. It isn't like him not to get the hint.

"Uh, hey. Isn't your apartment the other way?" I press. When Lucas shrugs, averting his eyes (a dead giveaway meaning, uh, I don't know... YES?), I can't help but crack a small smile. Even while sick, Lucas is worried about me getting mugged in the streets at night. Though nothing here can stand a match against me. Worry wart.

Or maybe he's scared of walking home alone.

I break into a wider grin. "Want me to walk you home?" I ask, half-joking, half-serious.

That snaps him out of his stupor.

Slowly, Lucas turns to face me. His silhouette shifts against the starry horizon, and I catch the contours of his skinny shoulders against the dying city lights. Half-melted snow glitters on his hair like a crown. The tip of his nose glows red from the cold.

"I'm fine, thanks." Lucas's voice is soft. Impossibly soft and sincere with an underlying hint of something else. His eyes shift to my face. "I knew you could get over it. I'm..." Lucas pauses, visibly struggling for the right thing to say, and in a way, his awkwardness is endearing. "I'm glad."

My chest tightens. "Me too."

Relaxing, Lucas dips his head. A puff of white escapes from his mouth into the cold air. Cracking a small smile himself, Lucas shuffles in place, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You... take care." With a strange sort of shyness, Lucas raises his fingers towards my face. Too high for a fist bump, too low for a high five. I raise my eyebrows, confused at what the heck he's trying to do when his hand lightly brushes against the top of my head and ruffles my hair.

This. Little. Fucker! I can't believe he's rubbing his height into my face now of all times! Puffing my cheeks up in indignation, I try to shove his hand off my head. "Hey, hey, watch it. Only I get to do that."

He arches an eyebrow. "Really now."

"Cause I'm older than you. I turn eighteen in August. You turn seventeen in May." I proudly stick my chest out. "Respect your elders."

Lucas does that quiet chuckle under his breath, then lifts his hand off my head. "Point taken. Catch you later, Old Man."

I feebly sputter for a suitable comeback, but the words clog up my throat. With a last smirk, Lucas waves me off and saunters out of sight, his shoulders hunched over in an idiosyncratic slouch.

I didn't love him. I didn't love him!

I stand in the snow until my face turns numb from denial.

.

.

.

~oO0Oo~

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.

.

After that, I wanna say I spent a good hour walking through the landscape of my childhood and reminiscing on nostalgic memories, et cetera, et cetera, but really, I was a lazy ass and teleported home.

The short trip's worth it. When I burst onto the front porch, dripping ash all over the Welcome mat, my mom hurries over in a heartbeat. She's gotten so used to my shenanigans that nothing fazes her now. Like, oh, hey look, there's Ness! He's teleporting out of thin air. Typical Tuesday Night.

Mom nearly crushes me in her iron hold.

"Oh, my baby," she whispers, squeezing me tight, and just like that, my worries melt away. Like I'm five and tripped over the playground slide again, and my mom placed a band-aid on my knees and said shh sweetie everything's gonna be okay and I believed her.

My mother is a beautiful woman, inside and out. I wish I inherited her blond hair and kind blue eyes, but somewhere during the baby-making process, my DNA went Fuck it and gave me all of my dad's genes. Messy black hair, check. Broad shoulders, double check. I inherited everything from my dad, from his mischievous, crooked smile right down to the weird violet eyes that gleam scarlet if I angle my head the right way against the sun. No matter where I go, I'm a walking reminder of my deadbeat dad.

After my mom fusses over me and ushers me to the table to eat, a familiar whine echoes down the stairs. "Mom, can I go watch Moana tonight?"

Mom doesn't even bat an eye at the interruption. "Tracy, what did I say about going out on school nights?"

"Pleaaaase? All my friends are going to watch the midnight premiere-"

Mom slaps the towel onto the dishwasher holder. "It's too late out for a thirteen-year-old to wander off alone."

"I won't be alone. I'll be with my friends. Mary Jane said that her mom was going to drop us off-"

"It's too late."

"That's the point of a midnight premiere!"

Mom purses her lips. I recognize the look. It's the Young lady, I do not approve look. "Tracy."

Tracy's arrival is signaled by the rising fanfare of her voice and the staccato of her feet. I can tell that she's annoyed from the way her feet slaps down the stairs. "Mom, please? The theater's literally ten minutes away by car-" Catching sight of me, Tracy skids to a halt. Her jaw drops. "Ness?"

"Hey, little sis," I say, cracking a grin.

There really is no place like home.

As if she's forgotten completely about the fact that "everyone in the whole wide world is going to see Moana," my little sister flounces over. I wonder how Tracy is able to avoid bumping into walls with the almost anti-gravity way she skips around. Impressive, really, considering that she isn't a psychic.

"Shut. Up. You never said that you were coming home!" Tracy says excitedly. She too, like my mother, is a classic blonde with blue eyes.

I sheepishly scratch the back of my neck. "It's a long story, but I'm here on business."

Tracy rolls her eyes. "Right, I forgot. Apparently you're too famous to talk to me-"

I stick my tongue out. "Don't insult the celebrity."

"Careful, your gay is coming out," Tracy smirks, crossing her arms.

Mom slams the faucet off. "Tracy, apologize," she says suddenly.

"It's true, mom-"

"True or not, you will not disrespect your brother under this roof."

Tracy sulks. "Sorry."

My cheeks burns. "Mom, it's okay. I don't mind talking about it-"

"Of course, you don't," Mom says absentmindedly, turning around to close the dishwasher. Something beeps down the corridor - the old laundry machine. The refreshing scent of fresh clothes wafts into the kitchen like a summer breeze. Without a minute to waste, Mom bustles past us, only pausing to ruffle my hair and kiss me on the forehead. "Stay home for as long as you want," she says warmly, then hurries out of the kitchen with her hands full of detergent.

Tracy plops down beside me at the table, her long blonde pigtails swaying after her like two tug-of-war ropes. Her eyes trail after the swinging kitchen door. "Mom was pretty shocked when you came out," she says quietly.

My stomach drops. I lower my spoon. "In a good way, or a bad way?" I say, taking this as the cue to quiet down as well.

"I don't know. She's never had anything against LGBT rights... but she never expected you to be part of it either." Catching the look on my face, Tracy quickly adds, "I wouldn't worry! She's coming around. Give her time." Her eyes suddenly turn fierce. "But I don't care that you're gay."

"I think I'm actually bi, but thanks, Trace," I say softly.

Tracy's eyes light up. "Does this mean that we can check out guys together?"

I accidentally laugh, snorting milk up my nose, and with a disgusted exclamation, Tracy leaps away from the table. "Ew, that's gross!"

I scrunch up my nose. "You're gross," I say, but muffled through a wad of napkins it sounds more like Nyour gwoss.

"You're grosser."

"Little Miss Grossenstein."

Tracy goes in for the kill. "Mom, Ness called me a Little Miss Grossenstein," she wails.

"Did not-"

"Did too!"

Of course, Mom returns to the kitchen and starts chewing Tracy out for disturbing the neighbors so late at night, and I take no small satisfaction in Tracy's childish pout, because younger siblings always win. It looks like Mom's taking my side today because I just arrived home. My smile widens, and when Mom isn't looking, Tracy turns her nose up, pokes me in the ribs, and skips away.

Little sisters, amiright?

Then Mom takes a seat across from me, and all of a sudden, the tension hits me like a ten ton truck. My heart constricts, as if a clamp has closed around my chest.

She starts off with small talk. Mostly, it's about Smash. Do I have a lot of work, is the fighting too intense, is the food okay. Somewhere, she tosses college into the mix.

"Brawling's a tough life. I hear Smash City has a reputable university."

"I've heard about it from the guys. I think Link's a third year now," I say vaguely, but I'm too distracted by my mom's five-star cooking, because her grilled steak and potatoes are the bomb. "But I know that Paula's applying for the merit scholarship this year-"

"The full-tuition merit scholarship?"

"Yeah, it's offered to the top ten entrance exam scorers. Paula's definitely getting it. She's smart-"

"You scored good marks on your GED."

I internally groan. I know exactly where this conversation is headed. See, my mom thinks that I'm a smart cookie. Admittedly I'm not rock-dumb, but I'm no Dexter or Mandark. I don't have the book-smarts. I can't sit still in a classroom all day without feeling like my soul is being sucked out of my brain.

"Mom, I don't want to go to college," I whine piteously.

Still my mom is stubborn. "If you ever decide to change your mind about your future career, you should take their entrance exam in April."

"I'll think about it," I promise, but I have no intention of applying, much less of taking another standardized test.

Because I'm seventeen and underage, any pay I earn from Smash Mansion goes straight to my legal guardian - aka my mom. But she's had the good sense to invest the money into my personal bank account and retirement. The little she does keep aside is geared towards college funds.

Just in case, she says.

But I wonder what my mom actually thought of me. I'm her oldest son, but there's not much going for me. I'm no all-star valedictorian like Tracy. I'm a Smasher, but not a super famous one at that. A mediocre brawler, at best. Middle school dropout. One sexually-confused kid who saved humanity from the alien overlord Giygas.

My mom sounded so supportive over the phone...

But was she all right with me not being straight?

Was she really?

Something about her hypocrisy makes me feel lightheaded. I push my dinner aside. As if recognizing my discomfort, mom falls back. Her eyes take on a sad glimmer.

I know that look.

It's the look mom wore when dad left her for somebody else.

Gently, my mom rests her hand over mine. "Honey-"

I suddenly stand up, pulling my hand back. The lump in my throat refuses to go down. "I'm going to bed," I manage to say, my voice trembling.

My mom only watches me with that sad look on her face.

Blinking back the stinging sensation from my eyes, I push my chair in and sprint up the stairs to my room.

Author's Note:

After scrapping the original story as a crack!fic, I guess you could say that I'm aiming to write a more realistic relationship. It's a tall hurdle I'm setting for myself, but I find the latter more engaging to write than crack on its own. Failing that, hey more writing practice.

In this fic, Lucas's birthday is May 22 and Ness's is August 1. Lucas is a Gemini. Ness is a Leo.