Tapping impatiently on the steering wheel of his car, Sebastian eyed Mercedes's front door, waiting for the girl to come out. He had only been there for a few minutes, but waiting felt long no matter what the circumstances. He thought it was rude to honk the horn, but didn't feel like getting out of the vehicle much either. To be fair, Sebastian had told her what time he would be there and had even arrived a few minutes later than that (to his own fault). His car was hovering in reverse by the time Mercedes finally bounded out of the house, her curly hair sitting in a damp bun on the back of her head.

Upon opening the car door, Mercedes clutched her bag close to her chest and sat down with a commotion.

"Nice of you to, uh,' Sebastian began, checking over his shoulder as he backed out of her driveway. "Join us."

Mercedes pursed her lips, "Boy, hush. I could've taken a whole lot longer."

"I think you should've,' Sebastian began, pointing at her hair. "Your hair's still wet."

"Be quiet before I break your other ankle,' Mercedes fired back quickly, throwing Sebastian's sun shield down to watch herself apply a hefty amount of lip gloss. She pulled her hair from its bun, hoping that air drying wouldn't result in too much shrinkage. The car was quickly enveloped in a fruity essence, prompting Sebastian to crack a window, contrasting with the heat blowing heavily in the car.

"Oooh,' he called back, laughing at the dig. "There was a line, and you crossed it,' he began. "You're talking a lot for someone who could walk to school."

"Bas, I will. Don't act like that, because you offered to pick me up. Actually, stop the car,' Mercedes started, reaching for the car handle. She even opened the door an inch while the two were in the midst of Monday morning traffic.

Sebastian's jaw dropped, leaning over the girl and slamming the door shut, his hand directly over hers for a few seconds. "You're,' he began, flustered, before looking over at her and giving an exasperated sigh and smile. "You maintain this energy all day?"

"All day, every day, 24/7, seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, Sunday through Saturday, sun up until sun down—"

"You're just going to…' Sebastian cut Mercedes off, looking over at her again. "You're just going to keep reiterating the same thing?"

"Oh,' Mercedes began empathetically. "Now I get it."

"You get what?"

"Why you're so uptight— you're constipated from all the Raisin Bran you have for breakfast."

Sebastian shook his head, looking into his rearview mirror and dropping to the right a lane. "Your comebacks suck."

Mercedes lived closer to school than Sebastian did, about a ten minute drive, but Sebastian had picked her up early with the intention of stopping to grab breakfast for the two before school. They waited in a backed up line for high calorie food, listening to a pop music station and talking about what they assumed their day would look like. Mercedes scratched at her nails while Sebastian spoke, too nervous to look him in the face as he talked, but she listened intently.

"I know my dad expects me to go practice tennis, but I like,' he shook his head in aggravation. "I'm going to look like fucking Buzz Aldrin out there. He's delusional."

"You could, maybe, just do some weight training? Would that be something he could compromise on?"

Thinking for a moment and pulling up closer to the intercom, Sebastian nodded his head after a few seconds. "I'm going to tell you something about Emmett Smythe: he has never compromised on anything in his entire life. This is a man that got his law firm written as tax exempt for an entire decade. Do you know how many people you have to deceive for a decade to get a privately owned practice that specializes in fiscal law to be considered tax exempt at the end of the year? For ten years,' he shook his head. "That's my dad... Did I tell you he told me not to use the crutches?"

"I don't want to talk bad about your dad, I don't know him, but that doesn't make any sense."

"I'm right there with you, sunshine,' Sebastian replied, rolling down his window all the way and turning the radio off. Pulling up to the intercom, he greeted the worker on the other side of the static and asked for a second to pull his order together.

"What do you want?' he asked Mercedes, looking over at her as she squinted at the menu.

"I can't see the prices."

"Are you serious? Don't do this right now. Just tell me what you want."

Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows and leaned back. "I don't need you to pay for me, I'm just saying I can't see the prices."

"We are not about to argue about money with all of these cars behind us. Literally, what do you want?- or I'm going to order for you."

Rolling her eyes and tucking her purse away, Mercedes gave Sebastian her order. He told the worker both his and hers and drove ahead to the first window.

"What was the total, so I can pay you back?"

Sebastian shook his head. "No."

"Sebastian, stop. I don't need a hand out."

"It's not a hand out, it's a hand up,' he replied, joking. After looking over at Mercedes, who had not laughed or even budged, he gave a faux shrug. "It's a joke, Jesus Christ. You can joke about breaking my bones, but I make one dig about social inequity and suddenly everybody's a critic… tough crowd. You wouldn't last a day with my friends." Sebastian eased his foot off of the brake and pulled towards the first window, handing a hard, metal credit card to the cashier and taking a receipt back in return. Placing his elbow on the window and scratching at the light stubble growing on the line of his jaw, he spoke again without looking at Mercedes. "Please don't make a complex out of me paying for you. If you were literally anyone else, I would still do it. It has nothing to do with who you are or what I think of you. I told you that I would take care of you. If you're with me, I will take care of everything,' he looked over at her finally, though she refused to meet his eyes. "One thing you can trust about me, if you trust anything, which you really shouldn't — I don't do things that I don't want to do. Whatever's going on, I'm three steps ahead of it. Just relax. Obviously, there's very little you can offer me except your endless enthusiasm, dated idioms and occasionally profound wisdom, so if you'd like to pay me back, ever, be less,' he fluttered his hands at the girl, looking for the proper word. "Whatever this is."

Sighing and crossing her arms, Mercedes looked out of the window and mumbled under her breath.

"Is there something you're burning to say?"

"I said 'I'm tripping you as soon as we get out of the car',' Mercedes responded back, attitude piling up at the seams.

Sebastian gave a light chuckle. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,' he said. For a split second, he considered making a joke that leaned closer to being flirtatious or even sexual, but he felt that that wasn't what he wanted Mercedes to see of him, not anymore and probably never again. It was difficult resisting the urge to flirt or touch her waist or make a snide but flattering comment about her figure — that was his thing, that was probably what he was best known for, at least among the women of McKinley— but he recognized that that was something he had with so many, and what he had going with Mercedes was so rare. While she was cute to him, and someone he would definitely hook up with if given the opportunity, if she initiated it, he was proving to himself that he was more than fury and pubescence and proving to her that he was more than the rumors she had heard and the rumors he had proven. It was easiest for Sebastian to not look at her as a potential lay, and especially not one that he was attracted to, but as a friend or a sibling or even the innocent girl that had handed him a love letter back in elementary school. All in all, when he thought of her, that was usually how he pictured her: chubby cheeks, purple hair bows and Chuck Taylors.

Finally pulling up to the second window, Sebastian grabbed the coffee and orange juice handed to him, placing them in the cup holders in the center of the car. Following shortly after, he grabbed the brown paper bag, grease stains beginning to discolor the light brown, and handed it over to Mercedes. He pulled out of the drive-thru quickly, cutting off a van and running a light just on the brink of turning red. Frowning as the van honked at him from a growing distance, Sebastian gave the diminishing car a middle finger before rolling up his window. Mercedes didn't know whether to laugh or clutch the door for dear life, but by Sebastian's calm demeanor, she could tell that his actions were completely on par with his normal driving routine.

"Are you not worried about getting pulled over?"

Sebastian looked over at Mercedes with a knowing expression.

"Oh, right,' she nodded. "Your dad."

"You're learning,' he laughed, taking a sip of coffee and stopping behind a procession of cars backed up at a red light. "So, how do you want to do this?"

"Do what?' Mercedes responded, pulling a straw from the bag and removing the paper. She took a big gulp of the drink, looking out on the side of the road as she watched kids her age walk towards the school a few blocks down.

"We can drive around a while, we're going to be late for class though. I could maybe drop you off a block down though, if you don't mind walking, but I am open to new and fresh ideas."

Mercedes bit her lower lip, "What's wrong with just dropping me off at school?' She began before she knew the answer, but she had found it for herself by the end of the question. "Oh,' she responded, deflated and pulling her bag up to her lap. "Fine. Let me out here then."

Sebastian looked over at Mercedes solemnly and continued driving, his hands clutching the wheel tightly. "Hey, it's not about you. You know I don't care about us being seen together. I can't hold everyone else accountable for what they say and what they think. I took care of the situation at the football game, but I don't see the point in having to take care of things that can be prevented. "

"If you're embarrassed to be seen with me, you can just say that,' Mercedes responded indignantly.

"Why would you say that?"

"That's what it feels like. I'm telling you how you're making me feel."

"Listen, if you don't get what I'm saying, that's your problem, not mine, but what I'm saying is valid. I feel like we had this conversation already,' he continued, driving past the school and taking a turn further away from the building.

And they had, but having a conversation was different from seeing that conversation come to fruition. Mercedes hadn't expected there to be too many more opportunities for her to interact with Sebastian in public, so she didn't protect herself from what that would inevitably look like.

"You missed the turn."

"Did you seriously think I was going to make you walk to school, Mercedes?"

Nodding, Mercedes placed the cup of orange juice back into the cup holder. "You did say that was one of my options."

"Because I knew you were going to throw a temper tantrum about being late, Mercedes, not because I had any intentions of dropping you off a block down from school, so you could watch me drive away and get there on time. Do you think I'm that big of an asshole?"

"Sometimes,' she mumbled.

Sighing, Sebastian reached for the fast food bag still in Mercedes's lap. He pulled out a sandwich and began to eat, one hand on the wheel and the other stuffing his face. "You blow me,' he began, rolling his eyes. "I'm trying to tell you the truth, and you're letting your emotions get in the way of something that is going to happen regardless of them."

"What's the truth? That you're embarrassed of me or that you're embarrassed of what your friends have said about me?"

"What's true is that my friends will give me a hard time about being seen with you. What's true is that my friends will find a way to give you a hard time about being seen with me. So, if you want to make me into a bad guy, then that's fine. I am always the villain, no matter what happens. I'm used to it. What I thought we had already discussed was that we weren't going to act like things aren't the way they are. We tried that, remember? We fought and didn't talk for a couple weeks because I thought maybe my friends wouldn't lose their minds because they had to interact with someone black informally— if we're going to call it for what it is— if we're going to be honest, which is what I want— which is what you won't do. Stop acting like McKinley isn't a textbook case of 'times separate-but-equal worked'."

"Wow,' Mercedes sighed, retreating into her corner of the car and sighing. "Nobody thinks like that."

"Mercedes, you have got a world of hurt coming straight towards you on the fast train, scout."

Sebastian looked grimly over the steering wheel, feeling his temple begin to throb with displeasure. He felt the course of his day beginning to turn south, not to mention his ankle sending irrevocable shocks of pain up his leg every few seconds.

She shook her head, a few droplets of water settling on her arms from her hair. "I want to believe people aren't like that, Sebastian. I just think everyone hangs out with people who are similar to them or live close to them. If we can be friends, everyone can get along with each other. I don't know, I don't want to call you wrong, but I liked your friends. I thought they liked me, and every bit of me wants to believe that you're wrong, and they weren't trying to discreetly insult me when we went to the football game together, but I'm afraid you're right… I don't want to deal with a reality that's still racist or judgmental or prejudiced against anything but people's character and their heart."

"Everyone wants to believe that, and no one wants to do that. People are comfortable where they are— just like you're comfortable believing in a non-existent utopian society, and just like I'm comfortable breaking every possible traffic law because of who my dad is. Why change what works for you? I don't want to be the person that makes you misanthropic, so please don't make me into that person. Can you just trust me?"

"I trust you, but if trusting you just means us hanging out clandestinely, then I don't even feel like we're friends. It feels like I'm a secret."

"Buddy,' he began, downtrodden but optimistic. "I am going to spend so much time making up for what I've done to you and for what I will eventually do, because I am just… a perpetually evolving and insulting type of person. But, you have to trust that me wanting to keep our friendship between us is not another example of me being exactly who I am. It is the best thing I can do for you, okay?"

Her bottom lip in a pout, Mercedes gave a lethargic nod.

"Can you eat? Please— I will make you pay me back if you waste the food."

"My appetite is gone."

Looking over at her, Sebastian plastered a soft smile onto his face and reached over to pinch Mercedes's cheek. She swatted his hand away instantly, pushing further into her seat, Sebastian laughing in response. "You're like a child. You're having a temper tantrum."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"You're just,' she sighed, finally opening the bag and pulling out a piece of a hash brown. She spoke in-between bites. "Frustrating. You're so hard to argue with because you always think you're right, and if I don't agree with you, then I'm automatically wrong, plus your dad's a lawyer, so I'm sure he taught you everything he knows. What do I look like arguing with a lawyer's kid?"

"Someone who's about to lose their case."

"Exactly,' she basically yelled, Sebastian laughing again, still driving mindlessly around town. He checked the time on his watch and estimated how much longer the two needed to avoid pulling into the school parking lot.

Sebastian looped through the city's downtown area, finishing his breakfast and throwing the remnants out of the window much to Mercedes's chagrin. She vowed to put her waste into a trashcan after arriving at school, but was usurped by Sebastian grabbing the empty bag from her lap and throwing it, too, out the open window of the driver's side. Mercedes found herself rolling her eyes more than usual, and Sebastian found himself laughing more than usual, and the two talked about his injury and about the roar he had received from his father in response. Mercedes talked about the friend she had met at the consignment shop and what activities she would find herself in the midst of for the rest of the week. As the clock began to tick closer and closer to the time the bell rang to release students from their homeroom to the first class of the day, Sebastian began to make his way back towards the school.

Upon arrival, the parking lot was full of cars and a few stragglers, but predominantly empty with only the sound of a few birds and then the late bell for first period ringing loudly.

Getting out of the car and grabbing his backpack from the back seat, Sebastian bent over to re-tie both of his shoes before picking up one crutch after the other and giving Mercedes a pitiful smile.

"You look adorable,' she giggled, walking around the front of his vehicle to see him in all of his glory. Sebastian began to turn a hint of red before shaking his head.

"Might be a good excuse for being late, not that I need it."

"Could you go a day without speaking about how privileged and lucky and rich and good looking you are?"

Contemplating for a few seconds as he hobbled behind Mercedes, eventually he shook his head. "I think I'd explode if I didn't put my self esteem to words. You're not suggesting it bothers you..."

Mercedes gave an acted gasp, "How could you tell?"

He shook his head and placed one crutch beneath his arm, handing the other over to the girl when they approached the short flight of stairs that led into the rear entrance of the school. At the top, Mercedes held the door for both of them and handed the other crutch back to Sebastian as they walked into the building.

"Sorry you're late,' he began, shifting his jaw and biting his lip. An apology.

"It's fine. Thanks for the ride and the breakfast, I appreciate it."

"No problem,' Sebastian said, smiling. "We can do it more often, depending on how willing you are to tarnish your reputation of no absences and no tardees."

"Not that willing,' Mercedes replied, her hands tightening around the strap of her bag. She smiled, preparing to let go of the boy for the day. "We can find something else to do. In secret. In privacy. In the dark. In the shadows. Behind the curtain—"

"You're doing it, you're doing that thing again,' Sebastian began, shaking his head and giving her a knowing smirk.

"I know, it's just funny to see you turn bright red… What was it that you said earlier? 'Tough crowd'?" Rolling her eyes, Mercedes turned around to head to the office to retrieve a tardy pass. She knew Sebastian wouldn't bother to get one, he wouldn't be questioned about being late, but the crutches were also a good excuse. It was, to her knowledge, her first tardy ever, but she considered it worthwhile.