A/N: Ack, I'm so sorry! Things have been very hectic with school, then all of a sudden, whoomp! Hurricane Sandy pulverized most of NJ. It was such a major pain. I hope everyone stayed safe! Ahh, but this week without school has finally given me time do much at least something, but this update is still…ughh. I'm not entirely happy (as usual) but something counts as something!
Extra note: Incorrect grammar is intentional in the beginning, but only for text messages. Wherever else it happens it just my usual amount of stupidity. Bless you all for dealing with my characterizations;; and without further ado, other than these other messages, I present a moderately long chapter for my absence.
Special thanks: to Silueby Harmakido, a.k.a Mystia Katsuragi, my most scariest beta to date but goddamn she does not let me wallow in the pits of my inferiority complex, kudos to this fucking awesome girl :u
Warning: Use of the word fag. MORE ANGST. And choppy violence ahoy. (this fic's second category is friendship -insert magic sparkles here- it's becoming so fitting lately ahaha no.)
Disclaimer: Nothing has yet to change;; I continue to own nothing. orz

Ruby: I can't believe you actually struck him with a towel. What are you, five?
Sent: Feb 5

Sapphire: yer gonna apologize 2morrow or somethingg, rright? :/
Sent: Feb 5

Gold: Jfc anSWER YOUR PHONE ALREADY
Sent: 7:18 PM

Gold: I left you alone yesterday
Sent: 7:18 PM

Gold: Dont make me have to provoke you
Sent: 7:18 PM

Gold: Because i will
Sent: 7:19 PM

Gold: Guess whos gonna be winning soon. Aww yiss your bitchass is going down
Sent: 7:19 PM

Gold: You lost all your fag appeal mad quik tho
Sent: 7:20 PM

Gold: Quick* ugh i am so fucking done with your bullshit touchscreen
Sent: 7:21 PM

Oh no, forget the touchscreen, everything became absolute bullshit. His door was locked to prevent Daisy from barging in; he blasted the surround sound to his video games, thoroughly enjoying the excessive ringing in his ears from the loud, blaring noise of Green's character trekking through a mildly empty field, setting trees and cabins ablaze with the grenades in his inventory. The distraction lasted three hours before he succumbed to boredom, choosing to sleep his Saturday away, and now that he decided to check the messages on Sunday night, he instantly began to regret it.

Never bothering to charge the device, his irritation intensified as he scrolled through the messages, the momentary pauses would be filled with the alerting chime of his phone's battery approaching zero. Green fought with the charger, his trembling hands unsteady to connect the prongs to the outlet, and he cursed under his breath when the connection was finally established for his phone to charge.

And so returns his initial anger that everything has become absolute bullshit. It was unreasonable of him—or at least he thought of it as much, but he was past caring—to pinpoint his assumptions on Red being the source of the news passing along so quickly in a matter of two days. His inbox was flooded with other messages: track team members, former girlfriends, the ordinary bunch that sent him a message every now and then – all of them knew. Probably one or two may have sent him something completely unrelated, he wasn't sure, but he was a bit overwhelmed at how many people decided to squirm their way into his life to message him about his miserable loss.

Don't these people have anything better to do, oh my fucking god, Green moodily thought, his eyes narrowing as he selected multiple messages to delete. He wanted to think, wanted to believe it was no big deal – it wasn't as if he lost anything majorly important, it was just indoor track. It was merely an extracurricular activity he participated in, something to keep his mind balanced, his headaches at ease, to release the stress forming inside – a track star, the title all his.

Or was his.

Green felt the frustration rising again. Losing? Losing? Green Oak and 'losing'—or anything synonymous with failure, for that matter—were never even used in the same sentence before or, as a matter of fact, should never be used in the same sentence. Despite having the awards for his grades throughout the years, just one little blunder made every accomplishment feel absolutely useless. It was like having an undesired smudge on the perfect, painted canvas, a yellow marker accidentally swiping against black.

Resisting the urge to throw the flimsy device at the wall, Green took a seat on his computer chair, swerving around in circles, his emerald eyes staring blankly at the ceiling fan. He drew his thoughts back on Red being the rat of his dilemma, and he knew it wasn't true

but it felt so much better shifting the blame to him.

Red would keep his mouth shut as he would normally never speak much to anyone else besides Yellow, perhaps Silver too, or whoeverthefuck else. The students gave him little acknowledgment, and despite being nosy teenagers, they might not even attempt to pry answers out of Red. Or, if they did, Red would send them a pointed gaze that might drive them away, startled by the blank, coldness of his bloody red tinted eyes.

Green felt his hand twitch, and slowly it balled into a fist.

Red could tell anyone if he pleased. Green was not going to give him the benefit of the doubt, and like hell was he going to force some answers out if he had to. Although his gut was telling him how wrong he was, Green felt a great deal of satisfaction: if he gaining all this unnecessary anger in a single night, it was only fitting Red felt his hell.

Blue: i am going to kick your sorry ass
Sent: 9:57 PM
Me: Ask me how many fucks I actually give right now
Sent: 10:19 PM

On Sunday night, Red was bundled in his blankets. His mother left for the airport on Saturday for a vacation trip—that he was able to plan yearly in advance since the beginning of his freshman year through a certain source in his allowance—and in the terminal they left with a quiet goodbye, her hands running soothing circles on his cheek. She brushed his black fringes behind his ear, and pressing her lips on his forehead she whispered, "Stay safe, and call me when you need me. Please, please tell me if…if anything happens."

Her worries exposed her crow's feet under the layer of foundation smearing her face, the faint traces of fatigue smudging the tails of her thin eyeliner as she scrunched her face occasionally as the clock ticked down the minutes until her flight's arrival. Red wheeled her two large suitcases to the entrance, idly watching the passing passengers sorting a line through the metal detector. He eventually reached the end line for visitors, and with a wave he watched her past the security attendant. Before she continued forward, she regarded her son with a soft smile, mouthing the words, "I love you."

The weather for her trip was ideal. Then, as he settled back home, he slept the entire day away, Pikachu nestled on his pillow, but before his eyelids grew heavy, he heard a faint buzz: it was his phone, no doubt about it, but Red only draped the blanket over his head. On Sunday night, he spent the majority of the day in bed, entertained by Pikachu stuffing its mouth with its food pellets, scurrying left and right under inconspicuous corners of his room. Red sat upright in his bed, hugged his legs, and rested his chin on his knees, shuffling slightly in his maroon sweater.

His fingertips felt as cold as a corpse, hands shaky while he typed on his phone, his toes curling and uncurling the blanket spread of his bed – nervous, Red was feeling nervous. He sought hope in the weather reports: he had a chance, a very strong chance the impending snow storm will rage for two days, the third day to be spent cleaning the heavy two and a half feet of snow. Red was eternally grateful the snowstorms were unpredictable, that there could be a snowstorm one week, followed by a grace period, then another snowfall.

Red figured ignoring Green over the next few days will honestly amount to nothing, and despite their short acquaintance, Red gathered enough information on the egocentric senior. What are the odds the high school "star" loses to someone he just met, and that same someone just fails to perform exceptionally to elude unwanted attention. Or that he, the ever so quiet and "emphatic" Red, would spread the news around when all he did was return home, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants, his eyes focused on the cement beneath his running shoes.

Red gathered Pikachu into his hand—the creature was busily scratching against the metal post of his bed—tucking himself and Pikachu into bed for the night. Red patiently waited for his friend to close its beady black eyes shut. Just as Pikachu's eyelids grew heavier in the passing minutes, Red shifted under the covers, drew the blanket forward to cover his pet's small body, and used his index finger to scratch gently behind the rodent's ears.

"Sorry," Red whispered to his friend, his voice jaded and strained, his poor attempt at a small smile failing to form on his lips. "I thought…" he gulped down the lump in his throat, unsure how to clarify. "It's just us, I guess…"

In a vacant house.

Red withdrew his hand, gazing long and hard at Pikachu's slumbering form. "I thought I could have gotten you a new friend."

The snowstorm accumulated less than expected, leaving anyone on a Monday to remain asleep on their beds. On Tuesday, however, the roads were clear enough to commute, yet Red refused to budge on the sunny Tuesday morning to leave for school. His mother had called on Monday night; their conversation was brief, lasting less than five minutes. It was just the usual news: she was pleasantly enjoying her vacation, asking questions whether the snowstorm may have caused any damages or the like in a motherly exaggeration.

He reassured her after some time, probably in the third minute, then wished her the best for the remainder of her vacation days. Tuesday was spent like the other days: either alternating between staying in his bed or making his way downstairs to scour food in his fridge or plop himself on the sofa to watch television. Yellow—he did feel guilty throughout the morning, how could he have just left her with Green and Gold in the morning? Depending on their mood, they might either disregard her or badger her—fully understood Red's predicament, encouraging him to clear his head for one more day.

Wednesday was an uneventful morning: waking up, leaving Pikachu alone in the house, getting ready for school, filling his bag with snacks to keep him awake, arriving to the self-proclaimed hellhole, and heading to the gymnasium—not without sending a curious glance at the flyer for a last minute admittance to join the basketball team—strongly resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his coach desperately trying to convince him otherwise to not quit the team, Red, you're a natural, just look at your record time and much other nonsense Red droned out. His coach, although begrudgingly, wished Red the best of luck on the basketball team, joking whether he possessed any special hidden talents in that sport.

It was more like he was outstanding in just about any sport that he tried as a child, but growing up meant a loss of ambitions, and soon everything began losing its playful flare.

Setting the large buds of his headphones over his ears, Red stuffed his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie; the squeaking noise of his converse against the polished maple flooring followed him to the exit. His drowsy scarlet eyes spotted a rack of basketballs: it's been years since he attempted basketball, it's been years since he bothered exerting all his energy in anything other than running. With a shrug of disinterest, Red maneuvered through the hallways, entered the cafeteria, secured his breakfast, and scanned the area quickly before taking his usual seat at the far end of the lunch room – safe; everything seemed safe enough to eat his breakfast in peace.

The teen echoed the lyrics in his head, thrumming the beat with his free hand, his eyes lowered on his spoonful of cereal he raised to his mouth. Although he was only a quarter of the way finished with his breakfast, Red felt his headphones yanked forcibly off his ears.

"Yo. Sorry 'bout that, I wouldn't have gotten your attention otherwise. While I'm at it, what'cha listening to? Anything interesting?"

Gold pressed Red's headphones near his ears, his cheerful smile twisted into a frown, his eyebrows furrowing. Shrugging, Gold returned Red's headphones without a fight, disregarding the bewildered glint in Red's scarlet eyes. Snatching his headphones back was done in a slow movement, as if Red was processing that he would not be involved in a heated glare-down to reclaim the buds, though he held back the temptation to moodily send a glower to the chipper junior, he still offered an appreciative nod.

Gold drew an orange juice carton from his pocket before settling down on the chair; absently he tore off the tiny straw on the side of the pint, fumbling to rip the plastic covering. "News travels quickly, you know? Someone told me what happened on Friday," Gold paused, grinning slightly he secured the tiny straw in the opening of his juice carton, "so I know you didn't snitch."

Red drew another spoonful of cereal, not saying anything yet attentively listening.

"You don't look like a gossiping douchelord anyway," Gold took a long sip of his juice before continuing, "but others think you had this thing all planned out. Here me out on this, 'cause I shit you not, I'm hearing one conspiracy theory after another. I'll save you the time before Green comes crashing in—I'm pretty sure he's still pissed as fuck. I dunno, I think if this day gets any saltier for him he's going to lose his shit—but whatever, let me shorten this one: so like I said, something along the lines of you planning this all along, staging the whole, 'I really don't want to do anything'-attitude, and waiting for that right moment to embarrass him," Gold's eyes searched around the lunchroom, looking for the right words. Releasing a heavy sigh, the junior leaned forward, swishing the tip of his straw with the pad of his finger. "Which…still doesn't make a lick of sense. I guess they mean when you two became pals or hell should I know. Why would you want to be track star anyway? Were you actually trying to embarrass him?"

Losing his appetite, Red set his breakfast aside, a familiar cold returning on his bony fingers, and in the back of his mind he felt a mild pain from the aggravation building up in a single hour. The senior shook his head, his frown still in place.

"I thought so. Things are just rough around the edges for now, I guess. I give it two days max before Green chills out, or as long as nothing else happens today. I don't have to tell you this, but just ignore him. He becomes the worst prick in this goddamn world if you press the wrong buttons while he's raging like a little bitch, it's just so ughh when that happens." Gold mentioned sourly, his eyebrows knit together as he faintly recollected his previous experiences. Snickering again, Gold pressed on, "Since I gave you a word of warning, can you tell me about Silver? Please? It'll help me figure out what his problem is with me right now."

Red relaxed a little, deciding to dryly humor the energetic junior even if it was a rude introduction all together, and normally Red would usually decline any ridiculous conversations with classmates, but then again information was still information. It was for the best he quit the track team, it was for the best he never became attached to the newfound notion of becoming friends with someone other than the usual bunch, and it was for the best he would know what to expect. Sure, it unnerved Red he would likely feel Green's wrath if he was still enraged by his loss, but at this point in time, Red had little concern over anything. He was too exhausted to tolerate the nonsense of such petty hostility—although he wasn't exactly friendly himself to Green the very first time either—and too exhausted to send Gold away for forcing his way into his space.

"Silver has been-"

Looking away for a brief moment, Gold's perked smile drooped into a strained, fine line, leaving Red to have his words die out as he leveled his view in the direction of the junior's gaze.

"Incoming Green. Abort, abort," Gold warned frantically, his hands making a shooing gesture to the senior. "This is the perfect time for you to be like, ollies outties. Go, go, go."

Red didn't need to be told twice: he left his tray behind on the table, power walking through the incoming crowd. The less he had to deal with peevish Green Oak, the better.

The car ride to school was less than eventful, but silently appreciated: Daisy had knocked on his door in the morning, brushed the lose strands of hair away from his mouth, reassuring him he could continue to sleep for another half hour after offering her sibling a ride to school. She was stuttering with her words when he sluggishly stalked into the kitchen, his emerald eyes widening in disbelief she had made him breakfast, breezily she pointed at his options. When he failed to respond for a good few minutes, she nervously giggled under her breath, excusing herself so she could find the car keys while he ate – to say he was surprised was the understatement of the century, she never even nitpicked him over the fact he was walking around the house in his boxers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Daisy hastily rummaging through the living room, faking the act of actually searching for something: Daisy was extremely organized, the most organized in the entire family, her keys were always neatly hanging in her room beside her vanity mirror. Her thoughts revolved around, 'Does he like it?', 'Did I add too much pepper?', and 'Maybe a nice surprise for dinner will make him feel better.'

Before the wave of guilt could sink in, Eevee was scratching the leg of his chair, yipping loudly for its breakfast or even a scratch on the ear if Green was willing. With the resolution to let his anger subside, or at least within his own household, he swept the fox off the floor and set Eevee on his lap, alternating between feeding himself and feeding his pet. After a quick bath and a slip of clothes later, he fastened the laces of his shoes, still ignoring the stream of incoming texts making his phone vibrate on the end of his bed.

At every red light, Daisy would thrum her fingers against the steering wheel and open her mouth occasionally to break the ice but close it right after, losing every bit of her confidence to ask Green of his troubling predicaments. At one red light she thought, 'I wish I could at least turn on the radio. Oh, but I don't think he wants any noise…'

Green had his eyes transfixed on the passing snowy scenery. "You could turn on the radio, you know, I'm not stopping you."

"H-Huh? Oh, sure, ok-okay," she piped, her hand shooting out almost immediately. Her finger accidentally brushed against the volume dial, blasting the music loud enough for both of them to jump.

The brunet cupped his hands against his ears, eyes scrunched tight. "Fuck, Daisy! Turn it down!"

"Ahh, I'm sorry!" she cried, her voice lost to the volume. 'I'm so, so sorry! I just keep making things worse! Augh, no, I didn't mean to press that button!'

Her shaking fingers finally secured the dial, and once she lowered the volume, she returned her hands firmly to the steering wheel, apologizing under her breath as she peered in the rear view mirror, alarmed by the number of cars gathered behind her, impatiently honking their horns.

"Can you just…" he exhaled sharply. He was going to have such a shitastic day, he could just feel it. "Drop me off at the next block?"

'Way to go, Daisy, now he's feeling even worse. Ugh, stupid, stupid!'

Upon arriving to the next block, Green did not open the door immediately, rather he was wondering if he could remedy her woes from his outburst. It was silly, he felt, he couldn't formulate anything reassuring but blurt, "Thanks for breakfast," and as soon as he said it, he exited the car, slamming the door behind him. Trekking forward, it took some time for Daisy to gear her car, probably trying to absorb the fact that her moody sibling just gave her a somewhat half-assed appreciative comment, but before long, she safely sped away into a sharp corner of the next intersection.

He had twenty minutes to spare—far too much time to spare—pointedly ignoring the few whispers of those who were concerned, or pretentiously concerned, with his life, opting to hear what his coach has to say rather than not attend the practices at all. The gymnasium was only occupied by a few basketball players using half the court, the other half was the volleyball team – ah, there he spotted his coach on the bleachers, skimming through several pages on his clipboard.

His coach's attention strayed away from the clipboard to look forward, his face revealing his surprise at his former track star even showing up this morning. His eyebrows knit together, his lips pursed into a fine line, a single thought processing in his head: 'Oak better have a damn fucking good apology ready, that prat.'

Green rolled his eyes, unceremoniously taking a seat beside the grumpy man. "What's up, coach? Before you mention anything about Friday, let me just make this perfectly clear: I am so not sorry. Go ahead, kick me off, he deserved it."

'This fucking punk, if I weren't under the bounds of this system…' His coach shook his head, reasoning with himself that it was just not worth picking a fight with Green. "Red rarely even stands out, kid. What is this grudge about? You two seemed like buddies anyway." Green narrowed his eyes, not responding, prompting his coach to switch the topic at hand. "Fine, fine. At least do me the favor: you're a senior, he's a senior, keep the tantrums under the ropes because don't think your sorry ass won't get suspended if you two end up fighting. In other words, Green, you need to cool it!" he barked viciously, waving an accusatory finger at him. 'Just do this one little thing, you snot.'

I don't appreciate people comparing me to mucus nowadays, Green thought bemusedly, bringing an upward twitch to his infuriated scowl. Humoring his coach, he set the man's hand down, pleasantly laughing for the first time this morning. "Yeah, yeah, I got'cha. And you do me the favor of being my personal bodyguard against Blue. The wicked witch of the west is out for blood today, mine specifically, of course."

"Fess up: what did you do to get her pissed off?"

Green snickered brightly, beaming as if he was proud he ruffled her feathers again. "Something stupid, as usual. Never mind that though." Readjusting the straps of his backpack to his shoulders, he stood upright, surveying the gymnasium distractedly. "By the way, who else quit? The slacking freshmeats or…?"

"Now don't think it's your fault, you hear me? He might be going for something more…exciting, I guess. It was Red; he's going to join the basketball team, wished him the best since there might be no open spots. Watch him amaze the other coach over there with some hidden talent he's been hiding from us all. Ahaha! Some nice competition is always great between students, motivation and all that jazz."

Green stopped listening to his coach after he clarified the identity of the resigned member, his fingernails were clawing into the straps of his backpack, his uplifted mood swiftly took a tumble into a stream of coursing rage: he was left behind on the track team after his painfully horrible defeat, was left the center of the worst type of attention, had his spotlight stolen-

fuck fuck fuck he was getting a headache he needed to calm himself it was his senior year yet he felt surprisingly fine when he walked in and now students were entering and it was becoming too noisy god fucking damn it. It was a rare resentment he felt, but then again, he never experienced the necessity to be filled with so much distaste because he was always the greatest, the full, one-hundred-percent best

and goddamit he needed a bottle of water or the cafeteria's poor concentrated orange juice or something to swallow down his pills. Yeah, that's what he needed: something to drink. The sound of his coach's concerned protest died out as Green scavenged the halls, glaring at the lines of those who gathered near the water fountains—screw those early morning fitness classes—opting for the dreadful lunch room instead. Snatching a pint of juice got him an earful from the lunch lady, but he set his backpack on a nearby table; he brushed his belongings to the side to find the compact case.

Ah! That silver gleam! Briefly looking around him, only a few were offering him any mind—how long will they talk about his loss?! He could hear them both verbally and mentally, his patience was honestly withering thin. It was a faulty win! Faulty. He should scream at the bunch, but he reasoned there was no use explaining to such nosy dipshits—he popped a pill in his mouth, drowning the medicine down with the carton's hearty twenty five grams of sugar. After he was done, he tossed the carton into the trashcan—and he would like to point out that the bin was a fair distance away, and he made it in perfectly without hitting the rim or missing entirely, unlike the less competent—he stuffed his belongings back inside his backpack, stopping momentarily as he spotted Gold out of the corner of his eye. Some students were preparing to leave, blocking the view of the student Gold was animatedly talking with across the table.

Sighing through his nose, he supposed he owed Gold some answers, or at the very least a chat. Gold seemed to notice him when Green gathered his belongings, slugging his backpack on one shoulder, and swerved around the other students to reach his table. The correlation between the particular seat Gold had chosen with Red's usual spot slowly dawned on him, along with the frenzied little panicking movements Gold was gesticulating with his hands. Green hissed at the students to move aside, receiving some bitter "Hey!" and "Watch it!" cries, then finally the brunet senior met with Gold, who was grinning sheepishly while waving a welcoming greeting.

"Beautiful weather we're having, ya'know," Gold dreamily sighed, raising one hand to gesture at the view of the world outside the glass dome. "If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of my mother screaming in the distance of me failing to tell her where the remote is after she decided to clean my room without permission." 'Shit, why did he leave his tray behind! Don't you dare get perceptive with me today, Green Oak, dishonor on your whole family if you do.'

"I'm sure it's grand she might have found the porn stash under your bed," he snipped, lacking the bite he wanted.

'Psh, under the bed? Puh-leeze, important pictures are always stashed in my old schoolbooks.' Gold chuckled, a trace of nervousness making his natural giddiness completely unbelievable. "What brings you here? We can admire the yellow snow next. Or make a haiku on yellow snow. Your grandpa is still into that, isn't he? Dude, where is he? I haven't heard from him in, like, weeks."

"Gold, you never eat cereal in the morning—no, shut up, no excuses—neither does Blue, and don't even try to pull Silver into this because there is no way you two would have been peacefully sitting in the same table without spurring up an argument."

'Wow. Clap. Thanks for assuming I have no other friends.'

Alright, he was becoming a little bit more sensible – more people were leaving, the bell was going to ring in a few minutes, and he could finally hear himself think: he was being too antsy with Gold, who honestly didn't deserve his sudden changes in mood, and the progressively angrier he became, the less of a direct answer he would receive. "Look, sorry," oh how it wounded his pride to apologize to this rowdy junior, "just tell me whether you were talking to him or not."

"Hmm," Gold hummed, he gave Green a curious glance before answering. "Eh, what the hay. Yeah, I was talking to Red. And look, this is just me talking, 'kay? How about we call this whole thing off? Obviously you look like you just want to punch him the first chance you get, and Red just wants some peace of mind."

Green's eyelids drew moodily half-lidded; he stuffed his hands in his pockets, clawing at the material within. His smile was forced, strained; cautiously Gold took a step back, the junior's Adam's apple bobbing. "I don't lose under any circumstances."

'What do you count Friday then?'

Maybe the urge to beat Gold down would be better suppressed if he was blindly unaware of what went on in the junior's head, because he was approximately a few seconds away from losing himself.

"Yeesh, don't get your man panties twisted in a knot, it was just a suggestion. Keep it up though, seriously, you're on your way to making me fifty bucks richer."

Gold had shrugged at him, mouthing the words, "Beats me," when they settled in their seats in homeroom twenty minutes ago, Red's chair remained empty. Yellow never paid attention during the lecture, her large amber eyes shifting between the view of the window or peeking at the window frame of the door, her thoughts a bore to him that usually revolved around her missing Red one way or another. It was such a slow period that his teacher barely noticed Green falling asleep on his desk—the sweet relief of basking in the warmth of sleep, nobody to pay attention to! His mind was closed against all else!—and the day went by even slower, regardless of Silver open to prod and annoy for the rest of the period.

They formed a subtle truce to work on a lab experiment together—for two reasons: Green only acknowledged Silver in the class and could not tolerate most of his classmates, and Silver because he had a terrible superiority complex over the rest of them, all except for Green because, as much as he would deny it, Green understood nearly everything thrown at him—the exchanged conversations between them never lingered outside of the boundaries of the class requirements, so Green barely touched upon the tension with Gold, nor did Silver ask Green about his personal life – which itself was unheard of, Silver gave little to no concern over anyone but himself and Gold when it was noticeable.

It was not until Green had sluggishly trudged into the cafeteria, his head throbbing slightly from the noise but he has grown accustomed to large crowds—just not entirely. God save him if he were in crowded cities—and looked around for Gold, because hell, he wanted some coffee outside and what the actual fuck is going on with those two already.

He closed in on the pair, presumably to act as a mediator between Gold and Silver shouting at one another, their shoulders rigid as if they were prepared one will attack the other.

"-does not involve you! I told you to stay out of it!"

"Silver, you don't know what he's involving himself with! It could actually harm you, why don't you understand?!"

"Now you wonder why I never tell you things, don't you, Gold?" Silver sneered, disregarding the flash of hurt contorting Gold's expression. "Leave my father alone, leave me alone!"

"Whoa, whoa. Ladies, what's the deal?" Green intervened, attempting to at least lighten the tension between them. That attempt plummeted when Silver hissed at him to step off.

Gold, on the other hand, ignored the senior completely. "I'm not going to! This is my business too!"

The redhead turned on his heel, not encouraging their argument to pursue any further – Silver was a walking grenade, his thoughts malicious as Green waited for Silver to leave. As long as Silver decides to relax his nerves elsewhere, Green wouldn't purposefully aggravate him further.

But leave it to Gold to act on compulsion.

Green was frozen in place, he should have hooked his finger in the hood of Gold's sweater to yank him back, and he almost wished he did so he would not have involved himself further than necessary when he already received a warning from his coach. No, his attention was easily diverted from the bickering pair to Red pressing the touchscreen of the lunch lady's computer to input his pin for his lunch, the black-haired teen either ignored him or did not notice his presence as his large scarlet eyes were fixed on Silver heatedly walking away.

The minute Gold had dared to grab Silver's wrist, urging him to reconsider his decisions, Silver landed the first punch.

Green stormed in upon reflex, shoving Silver aside before he broke into a tantrum to harm Gold more than once. Gold was bearing well; as soon as the hold he had on Silver was released, he cupped a hand to his mouth, rubbing soothing circles on the overwhelmingly painful sting along his jawline. Carefully the junior chomped a few times to make sure no bones were broken. Pushing him away did more harm than good to lessen Silver's rage against Gold; now, the glint in his steel-tinted eyes was honed on the brunet senior.

It was an uncoordinated swing that Green narrowly dodged. He blinked in disbelief: he was actually being attacked. Green fully knew Silver disliked him since he entered school, but he never expected Silver would actually resort to physical violence against someone evidently stronger and taller, especially one who was suppressing the urge for violence himself. Reasoning quickly that it was going to be for self-defense, his exasperation over these past few days surfaced once again, leading him to clench his hand into a fist.

Luck kept getting tormenting Green Oak: from losing his all-around perfect stance in school, angering one friend after another, letting family members feel uncomfortable around him, and allowing his frustration get the better of him. There was a lapse of realization for Silver that he was going to get slugged, he was paralyzed with a very strange glimmer of fear that Green has never seen in the temperamental junior, but he could not stop himself any longer – it was not an anger toward Silver, rather it was everything he gathered in a day, it was for the undeserved punch Gold received for just being what he always wanted to be for Silver: a friend, a friend that was burdened for caring too much for someone so ungrateful.

All sound must have been set to mute, or time must have stopped, because Green processed only a few things all at once: the clattering of a lunch tray and Yellow's bloodcurdling screech echoing a few seconds later.

Two blurs of red were distinguished: the blur of Silver being pushed aside to the floor, and the blur of Red's hoodie coming into the picture.

Green Oak may have been irrationally bitter, but he never intended to punch Red just now.

A/N: guise i actually like Silver. no, i'm not making him a bad guy v,v problems going on for him and yeah.

And here's a haiku because why the hell not
where did i go wrong
with my life centered on gay
fuck i should update

/be back when possible and not keeled over.