Chapter 2: Spit It Out

Layla quietly observed Will's supine form from the branches of the birch tree she had manipulated to raise herself up to the roof outside his bedroom window. She knew she would find him there. He had been doing this since he was seven years old. Whenever Will was feeling worried, he would retreat to this spot at night, hugging his knees to his chest and staring numbly at the stars. But tonight, the sky was overcast, the stars obscured, and Will lay on the roof tiles, his eyes closed.

Soft raindrops began to fall on Layla's face as she continued to watch him. The steady rise and fall of his broad chest was the only part of him that was moving. If Will had noticed it had started to rain, he gave no outward sign of this. He had clearly recently finished a hard workout and still seemed to be powered up. Veins protruded from the thick muscles on his arms and his well-developed pectoral muscles strained against his white cotton t-shirt. He would have looked peaceful if it were not for the deep frown that had settled on his forehead and had drifted down to the rest of his face.

Even though she knew every contour of his body, even though she had seen that face virtually everyday of her entire life, Layla was tempted to stare at him all night. But, as Layla looked at Will, she felt a tight fist inside her chest slowly squeezing the air out of her. Just watching him lately made her want to cry for no discernible reason.

The birch's pendulous catkins brushed Layla's face as she lightly stepped off the branch and onto the roof. Will's eyes snapped open as he sensed Layla's body weight on the tiles. He pushed himself into an upright sitting position and gave Layla a weak smile.

"Hey you," Layla said gently as she sat next to him and slid her hand over his knee. "What's wrong?"

Will sighed. His light blue eyes were downcast, the frown lingering on his features.

"Just had a rough day, that's all."

Layla waved her hand. The birch's leaves grew to the size of saucers, shielding them from the increasingly heavy rain.

"Come on, Will. Tell me."

Will's hair was starting to curl in the damp night air. He pushed it from his eyes and held his head in his hands.

"It's Mad Science. I just can't do it, I really can't. And Medulla seems to get off on persecuting me. Every time one of my experiments goes wrong, he gets the class to gather round to see how it shouldn't be done and have a good laugh." Will idly picked up a loose tile and held it tightly in his palm. "He makes me feel stupid. Like I'm nothing but a lump of muscle." Will opened his hand and a trail of rubble trickled out.

Layla took Will's chin in her hand and turned his face to hers. He looked like a lost child, alone and scared.

"Will, you are not stupid."

Will snorted. "Hmmph. I've got a report card that says otherwise." He removed a creased piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans and handed to Layla. It was true. Will was failing Mad Science abysmally.

"And we've got exams in a few weeks. There is no way I'm going to even scrape a pass!" He looked completely dejected.

"You can do it, Will. Your confidence has been knocked, that's all. Don't listen to Medulla. He's probably jealous of you."

Will looked at her incredulously.

"And how d'you figure that one out?"

"Because you're everything he isn't. He's probably spent his whole life a science geek hating people like you. But he should be encouraging you, not belittling you all the time."Layla was smiling reassuringly, but Will did not seem entirely convinced.

The rain was now falling thickly and Layla inhaled the crisp scent of wet leaves. It was one of her favourite smells. She could also smell Will's sweat mingled with the fresh rain. Another favourite smell of hers. He looked so gorgeous in his damp clothes. She had intended on offering more words of comfort, but instead leaned her body into his and kissed him deeply. But, not for the first time, she felt a sense of emptiness. She pulled away, her mouth throbbing. She could feel her desire welling up, but… nothing…

Will looked at her. "What's wrong?"

Layla twisted a chunky floral ring around her slender fingers. She couldn't carry on like this, it was too much. "Will, do you love me?"

"What? Yeah… of course I do."

Layla took a deep breath then asked, "Do you want me?"

He hesitated and looked down at his hands, examining his fingernails. "I'm not sure what you mean," he said quietly.

"Maybe I'm being paranoid, Will, but whenever I kiss you I feel… nothing. I get the impression that you don't enjoy it."

Will was silent for too long. Layla knew then that she was right. When he started to speak again, neither of them noticed how the birch leaves slowly shrunk back to their normal size, then wither and fall from the tree.

"I'm sorry, Layla, but it doesn't feel right. I love you, and you're beautiful, but I just don't feel… I mean, it was great in the beginning, but now…"

That hard fist began wringing Layla's lungs again.

"…I mean, we're sixteen. This is supposed to happen when you've been married for thirty years. Not now."

Layla couldn't believe this was happening. She knew in her soul that Will was the one; she'd seen their future in her mind's eye – the wedding, their children, growing old together. She noticed that Will had started to cry.

"I've been thinking how to tell you this, but I'm so scared of losing you. I couldn't stand it, Layla," he managed. He looked more lost than ever.

So, it was really over. And this is how it feels to have your life unravel before you, she thought.

"You will never lose me, Will," Layla said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. "You've hurt me, but I could never stop loving you."

Will reached for her hand, but Layla drew back as if stung.

"Don't. Just don't." The composure she had managed to maintain evaporated and she broke down into a fit of gulping sobs as she grabbed blindly for the tree branch. She lowered herself to the ground and ran to her house, unaware that every plant turned russet and gold as she sped past them.

They looked like any ordinary young couple as they navigated their way through shimmering puddles in the dull light of the street lamps arm in arm. The girl, dressed in white and holding a white umbrella, suddenly decided to splash her tall male companion. She darted away giggling, her long, blonde hair flying about her shoulders. He chased after her, also laughing, and nearly caught up with her when he slipped on an unexpected patch of ice.

"Hey, you always play dirty, Bianca!"

She smiled mischievously. "And that's how you like it."

Warren lunged at her, and this time Bianca did not run. He kissed her slowly, feeling her body melt into his. Bianca tasted of the cherry vanilla Haagen-Dazs she had been eating earlier, sweet and creamy. Her lips were cold, it felt as if she were planting a trail of ice on his cheek and neck. Warren wondered if she was thinking that his were too hot. She drew back from him and gave him a wide, contented smile, revealing her perfect white teeth. Bianca really was the most beautiful girl Warren had ever seen.

"Next time, I choose the movie. Anything with Sandra Bullock in it is guaranteed to be goddamn awful," he said as she slipped an icy hand into his. Warren shivered slightly.

"No way!" Bianca laughed. "You'd pick some Vin Diesel crap with car chases and explosions."

They continued to walk down the street. The metal tips on Bianca's heels clattered loudly against the asphalt and Warren only half-listened as she chattered on about her friends. Girl talk. Can you believe so-and-so said this to such-and-such, blah, blah, blah. Bianca and her friends were among the popular elite at Sky High, but for all their air-kissing and squealing whenever they saw one another, they didn't seem to actually like each other very much. Warren found them objectionable, and he knew the feeling was mutual. He thought they were vain, vacuous and often vindictive, and he didn't really care what they thought of him.

But Bianca was different. Warren thought that no-one would ever want him the way she did. It sounded corny, but she made him feel special. Although she did have a nasty side to her. She never directed any malice towards Warren, but he did catch her mocking one of her sidekick peers for wearing the wrong shoes the other day. This troubled Warren somewhat, but he put it down to the influence of her bitchy friends.

Bianca stopped at the street corner. "It's OK, Warren. I'll be fine from here."

"But we're nearly there. Let me at least walk you to your door."

"No, honestly it's OK," said Bianca firmly. The light was poor, but Warren thought that her pale cheeks were tinged pink.

"But… Oh, it's your dad, isn't it?" There was a hard edge to Warren's voice as he removed his hand from hers.

"Daddy's just very protective, that's all," she said placatingly.

"Right. So it's not because you're ashamed of me or anything?"

"No, of course not," Bianca said a little too quickly. Warren's face darkened.

"So, what's the problem?"

"Daddy just wants someone worthy of me…"

"And I'm not?" said Warren, his eyes narrowed.

"No! No, it's not you, it's your fath…" Bianca managed to stop herself before the whole sentence emerged, but she instantly wished she could swallow the words back. Warren flinched.

"I am not my father." He spoke almost in a whisper. Bianca never felt the cold, but the glacial chill emanating from Warren's tone made her shudder violently.

"Warren, I'm sorry, I'm saying it all wrong," she pleaded. "I'm not saying you are. It's just…"

"It's just I'm not good enough for you because my dad's a villain. Don't worry, Bianca. It's pretty fucking clear what you're saying."

"N-no… I…"

"Of all the people, I never expected this of you." For one horrible moment, Warren looked as if he was going to cry. That look cut Bianca deeper than if he had physically lashed out at her. She had never seen Warren in tears before, and to think she was the one who had caused it… But he quickly rubbed his face with a gloved hand, and when he lifted his hand away, his expression was changed to white-hot rage. He turned away from her and walked off into the rain.

"Warren… wait!"

But he was gone.

Warren did not speak to Bianca the next day at school. He ignored her tears and her apologies. He wanted nothing more to do with her. He knew that people couldn't understand it. He overheard someone ask why a loser like Peace would dump a hottie like Bianca Frost, but he was used to people gossiping about him.

Not wanting to face either Bianca or his friends in the cafeteria, Warren took his lunch outside. He walked towards the front steps and spotted Will already sitting there in the baking sun. Warren almost turned around, pretending he hadn't seen him when he saw that Will looked as miserable as he felt. Will's shoulders were hunched over, his sandwich uneaten in his hand. He seemed oblivious to the other students jostling around him. Warren was surprised to note the pang of concern he felt for his friend despite his own problems.

"Stronghold, let me guess – women trouble?" Will didn't even look up.

"Partly. School's pretty crap too."

Will turned to him. Warren looked pale and dishevelled, his eyes shadowed with dark circles.

"God, Warren, you look like shit!"

"Jeez, thanks!" Warren mumbled as he unwrapped his lunch.

"Are you OK?"

"Nope, not really."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nope, not really."

Warren could see that Will was bursting to tell him his problems. This is what happens when you have a female best friend for most of your life, he thought. You want to analyse everything, talk about your feelings all the time. What was the point of that?

"Me and Layla split up..."

Warren's eyes widened. That was the last thing he expected Will to say. He had thought that Will and Layla had probably had some lover's tiff on whose turn it was to hang up the phone. Well, it certainly explained why all the grass on the school grounds had shrivelled and turned to straw. And why Magenta was glaring daggers at Will as she walked by them.

"..and I'm failing Mad Science. My life officially sucks."

Warren silently ate his sandwich for a while.

"I could help you, if you want, with tutoring," he said, tentatively.

Will considered this. Warren was actually pretty good at Mad Science. Not quite mad genius level, but he certainly had an aptitude for it. "I don't know, it's a lot to ask of you, Warren. You've got your own studies to deal with."

"It's no trouble," Warren replied with a devilish grin. "And I promise I won't kiss you, or try to destroy the school."

Will almost choked on his sandwich, his ears crimson. "W-what?"

"It's called a joke, Stronghold. Y'know, because your last tutor did that?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. Royal Pain. Right."

"God, Stronghold, you are dumb!" Warren chuckled as he thumped Will playfully on the shoulder. "What am I letting myself in for?"

Will rubbed the spot where Warren had hit him. Warren wondered why, as it wasn't as if the strongest punch he could muster would cause even the slightest bruise on Will's invulnerable skin.