Okay, so, I am sooooooooooooo sorry to not have updated sooner. First my flash drive died, and then I was having a tough time getting inspiration for this chapter. It's my longest chapter yet, though, if that's any consolation.

Enjoy!

Will was often left wondering.

In some cases, he didn't really want the answer, because he wouldn't really understand it. Like why Magenta didn't have a name that wasn't a color. Why Layla had "Team Edward" written on the cover of her Mad Science notebook. Why villains always made long speeches.

In others, he only wanted the answer for the time being, for instant gratification. Like in Mad Science, when he asked how radioactive spiders reproduced. What was for dinner. The color of Layla's underwear the other day.

In still other cases, he needed the answer; it was almost vital to survival. Like what he got on his Hero History test. How he was going to get Warren to his surprise party tonight. Why Layla had been acting so weird lately.

Luckily, Will wasn't often left wondering for long, and he intended to get answers.

"Hey Layla," he said, catching up to her at her locker; he'd just won another Save the Citizen with Warren at his side, and was feeling particularly good.

"Hey." He waited for her to look at him and smile, like she usually did, but she seemed particularly intent on digging out her Villain Psychology book.

He sighed, his good mood deflating. "Layla, are you okay?"

"What?" She looked up, pausing her efforts for a moment. She looked worried, tired, stressed. He couldn't really fathom why; she'd been getting A's in all her classes, and, as far as he knew, there hadn't been any super-villains lately to save the world from.

"You've been acting funny lately…"

She shrugged, returning to her struggles. "No, I haven't. I'm fine." Will nudged her aside and easily pulled out the book she had been struggling with. "Thanks," she said, moving to take it from him, but he held it out of her reach, hoping to get her to laugh and struggle for it. "C'mon, Will. Give it to me!"

"Make me," he taunted. She gave him her best death glare, and he wilted completely.

"Thank you," she said, tucking it under her arm and shutting her locker angrily. Then she sighed, reconsidering her mood. Turning and kissing his cheek, she said, "I'm sorry, it's just…this party, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow, joining her lean against the lockers. "What about it?" His parents had approved; most of Warren's gifts has been given yesterday, on his real birthday, so gifts shouldn't be an issue; Warren hadn't caught wind yet…as far as he knew, everything was going according to schedule. Well, except for the whole getting Warren there thing. But he would figure out something…

"I don't really like keeping secrets," Layla said slowly, staring out the window.

"Well, it's only for like…six more hours," he said, twining his fingers through hers. "Then you can tell him everything."

"But that's a whole quarter of a day!" she complained, allowing him to pull her from the wall and toward her next class.

"Oh, how will you survive?" She smiled, but it still seemed a bit distant. They walked in silence for a few more steps, until he had an idea. "Hey, why don't you and I go to Paris this weekend? I know how you like it in the winter."

"That'd be really nice," she said with a smile, as they arrived at her classroom.

He grinned, glad he'd done something to make her happy, and kissed her cheek. They made plans to make plans later, and Will almost began saying something about Warren's party when the man himself walked up.

"Hey, Will, Layla," Warren said.

"Nice teamwork today," Will said, offering him a fist to pound, as he would with Zack or Ethan. Warren gave him an eyebrow in response. "Sorry."

The bell rang, cutting any more conversation short. "Crap. I'll catch you guys later!" Will said, pecking Layla on the cheek and running off.

Six and a half hours later, a fairly nice party was underway, if Will said so himself. He'd managed to get Warren to his house by claiming they should see a movie—and they should also meet at Will's house, in order to take the same vehicle and save gas, you know? Help the earth. Meet at my house around seven? Great! See you there.

They had all greeted him with a grand "Surprise!" but the look on Warren's face had told him it probably wasn't much of one.

Then again, Warren didn't exactly have many facial expressions.

However, seven and a half hours later—after a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday," way too much fire than his parents probably wanted in the house, and a shower of good wishes upon Warren—he had also lost his girlfriend. Deciding it was time to discuss Paris, he went off in search of her.

He didn't see her in the mess of people and music that occupied his living room…or the rest of the downstairs. Heading upstairs, beginning to get a bit worried, he also began hearing Warren's oh-so-dulcet tones coming from the guest room. He headed for the sounds, ready to say happy birthday again—for about the eighth time this week—when what he heard stopped him cold on the stairs.

"I'm sick of this, Layla. You keep saying you're going to tell him, and look! You haven't told him! When are you going to?"

Will took a few more steps, wondering if he really wanted to hear this, as Layla replied, "Warren, please, not now—"

"Layla, just tell him."

Will chanced a look through the crack of the door when there was too long of a pause for his liking. She was kissing him now; it made something burn in Will's stomach. She pulled away, but then nuzzled her head into Warren's shoulder and wrapped her arms around him, murmuring something Will couldn't hear. It made him angry, to see how naturally she fit there. As if they'd been doing it forever.

Not able to take anymore, he pushed open the door. "Layla?"

She quickly pulled away from Warren, panic crossing her face. "Will, hi!" she said, way too cheerily.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking from Warren's painfully apathetic face to Layla's completely guilty one. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted her to answer this question. Ever. "Oh wait…but I already know the answer to that question, don't I?"

She bit her lip, looking down at the ground. "Will, I'm so sorry…"

"Since—since when?" His brain hurt. His chest hurt. How could she? With Warren? Warren, who was standing there, all stony and stoic and stiff. Warren, who was supposed to be his best friend. Warren? Not Warren.

"The party after homecoming," she finally said. "I…I've been…meaning to tell you."

"Tell me when, Layla? When we were graduating? Or maybe when we were getting married?"

"You thought we were going to get married?" she said, her voice small. He shook his head. Unable to even look at her at the moment, Will turned and began walking back downstairs.

"Will, no, please don't walk away!" she cried, chasing after him.

"Why not, Layla? It's what you want me to do, isn't it? Save you the trouble?"

"I—I need to explain this to you. You've got to understand, Will, it wasn't really anything that you did—"

"Layla, I really don't want to hear this right now." He grabbed an orange soda out of a cooler in the kitchen, not really looking at what he was picking.

"William, my brother!" Zach appeared out of nowhere, slinging an arm around Will's shoulders: Will shrugged him off.

"Not now, Zach." He stormed away, leaving both of them behind.

"What's wrong with him?" he heard Zach ask Layla.

"It's a long story," he faintly heard her reply, before the music drowned them out.

So that's what she'd been so weird about lately. It wasn't this stupid party…God, how could he have been so stupid?

"I don't like keeping secrets," he spat, quoting her from earlier. "Don't like it, my ass."

He found himself outside on his front porch; the cold air did little to dampen his temper. He attempted to open the soda, but in his anger, ended up twisting the entire bottle and exploding the cap and most of the soda. "Dammit!" But rather than risk going back inside and face Layla, he stood there, his hair dripping and sticky with soda, and looked out over to the street. Without thinking, he started for it, needing to just be gone, only to be stopped by someone calling his name.

"Will?"

He closed his eyes. Layla was not a person he should be around at the moment.

"Please…if you hate me, I don't care. Well, I do care, but I know I deserve it. But just…hear me out?"

He refused to turn around fully, knowing she was crying. The full-on sight would crush him even more. "What's there to hear, Layla? 'I'm sorry, I've been sleeping with your best friend'—"

"I have not been sleeping with him!"

"But you want to," he spat. He still couldn't get over the fact that she had done this with Warren. It might have been the tiniest bit easier to forgive if she hadn't chosen his best friend.

"I cannot believe you! I'm trying to explain myself!" He gritted his teeth, biting back the numerous retorts he had, and she took his silence as invitation to speak. "Listen, it—it just happened, okay? I…I kissed him, when I was a bit drunk, and then…he kissed me back, and it felt really nice." He scoffed. Was this supposed to make him feel better? "And then we just…I don't know." She sighed, and an awkward pause fell. "…I love you too. I really do."

"Nice way of showing it," he muttered. He should have seen this coming. Trying to make him jealous by pretending to date Warren, their freshman year? Warning signs… they had probably been everywhere. Why hadn't he seen them?

"That's what made this so hard," she continued. "I love both of you…you have no idea what it's like—"

"Not really, Layla. Considering I've only ever loved one person. Hint: It's you." He chanced a glance at her: her mascara was running, and she looked terribly pained, but she remained silent for a few moments, looking toward the ground.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," she murmured finally. She looked back up, and he looked out over the trees again. "I was planning to tell you. That's why I've been so…weird, lately. I kept trying to, but then you'd go and do something cute and remind me why I loved you."

Will shook his head. "If I was so inadequate, you should have told me."

"You weren't inadequate, you were just different, Will! You two are so different from each other, and…" She sighed. "It's so hard to let go of you, you have no idea."

"I think I might."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, okay?" He remained silent. "I hope you don't hate me forever. I mean…you still were my best friend for practically a decade. And I'll always love you."

"Just not as much as him," he muttered. "Just—go away, Layla. I need to cool off."

"Layla, I can't find him—"

Will whipped around, recognizing the voice instantly. Warren had stepped outside, gently steaming in the cold, having seen Layla but not Will. Just seeing him standing there, one hand on Layla's shoulder, sent Will running for the edge to jump off of.

"Don't talk to me ever again," he spat at Warren. The taller boy's face remained stiff as he removed his hand from Layla's shoulder; he was starting to smoke.

Will knew his face was screwed up with rage. This was Warren's fault. If Warren had never come into the picture, Will would still have his girlfriend. "My world will be a whole lot better without you in it, Peace."

Warren, usually the most temperamental of their friends, would not answer to Will's challenges, strangely; all he did in response was turn back to Layla. "I'll meet you inside," he said quietly, as if Will wouldn't be able to hear it.

Will snapped. He took three steps forward, and his fist landed squarely in the middle of Warren's smoking chest, sending him flying backward through the wall.

And there you go, with a bit of a cliffhanger. And I know, I know, I didn't go through the confrontation between Warren and Layla from the last chapter--but I'll get to that later, I promise. Sorry if anyone seemed out of character.

Reviews make me really really really happy, even if they are just to yell at me for not updating sooner.