I don't own the Breakfast Club

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The walk back to the Johnson's house took less time than John had expected. He kept his distance from Brian and Susan, letting both enjoy the limited time that they had with one another. John tried to eavesdrop in as much as their conversation as he could, but it mostly consisted of Brian's high intellect on various subjects and Susan's fascination with his intellect. John wondered how anyone could listen to those 'fun facts.' Any girl would have been bored out of her mind.

As the three of them approached Brian's neighborhood, John hurried over to them. "We gotta leave you here," he said to Susan when they were a good distance from Brian's home. He then motioned for Brian to follow him.

Brian let out a sigh. "This is my stop," he said as he turned around and faced Susan. He subtly reached towards Susan's hand and let his fingers brush against hers. "I had a good time. Sorry for that milkshake accident again."

His featherlight touch was gentle enough to make Susan smile. Regardless of the milkshake accident, Susan had a great time. She just wished that Brian wasn't so nervous. "Me too," Susan nodded her head at him, "and we should do it again."

"After my two weeks," Brian said. He had to admit that lying to his parents and sneaking out to go on a date…meeting had given him quite a thrill. Was he likely to do it again? Absolutely not! He looked at Susan and then took a step forward and attempted to raise his arms and pull her close. When Susan didn't react right away, Brian let them fall to his sides.

Susan let out a nervous chuckle as she leaned towards Brian and saw him raise his arms up again. She was pulled into his embrace, which lasted for a quick second before he let go of her. "And next time, it will be a date not a meeting," she emphasized and pointed at Brian.

At that, Brian nodded his head in agreement. That way, he could enjoy all those dates without having to worry about his parents finding out that he had snuck out. Giving Susan another quick goodbye, he walked over to John who was waiting for him. The two boys walked to the front steps of the house. "I want to thank you again for your help in this John," Brian said, "what did you think? Was it good?" The words that John had told him back at school, stuck with him and he had tried to make it worthwhile.

John smirked at Brian's words. "Look," John said, "seeing you and Picasso over there, I was about to gag myself with a spoon."

Brian made a face when John said that. That must have been uncomfortable, even to think about.

"But seeing how happy you made Picasso over there, I think you have a good shot nerd," he said as he bought his hand over to Brian's shoulder and gave it a strong pat, causing Brian to flinch at how strong John was. "Now let's get this over with your folks." He rang the doorbell and this time, a tall male with white rimmed glasses stood by the doorway. Mr. Johnson John thought.

Brian took a deep breath. "Hi dad," Brian then greeted as he mustered a smile towards the male.

The older Johnson raised an eyebrow at Brian before setting his eyes towards John as if he was waiting for an introduction.

John stared back at him, ready to put the man in his place in case it was necessary. He then blinked when Brian patted his shoulder. "This is John. I was helping him with physics."

"For an upcoming test that I have," John added.

"Is that so?" Mr. Johnson asked and continued to keep that eyebrow raised. He looked at John up and down, taking in the rugged clothes that he wore. "And what did you learn?"

Brian's eyes widened upon his father's question. How could he put both Brian and John on the spot like that? "You know Mr. Johnson," John spoke up and cleared his throat, "I was very amazed by the difference between the terms entropy and enthalpy. My mind couldn't wrap around which was which. Brian here had a good way on making that differentiation. Just by looking at the root of the words, both state that it's the thermodynamic energy within a system. Now, -tropy which is Greek for 'transformation' and –thalpy, which is Greek for 'to heat within' shows the difference between those two definitions. In the end, entropy is the degree of disorder in the system and enthalpy is the total heat contact in a system."

John waited for Mr. Johnson to say something but then he jumped in before the older male had the chance. "I can also talk about the equations for each, but," he looked down at his wrist as if he was wearing a watch. "I gotta get home for dinner soon."

Brian was speechless. Where was John able to find the concentration to learn about these two concepts? The diner was very loud that not even Brian would concentrate if he was studying there.

John held up the physics book in his hand and gave it an pat. "The author should've done a better job at explaining things." He then took a step back from the door and held his hand in the air. "See you tomorrow Big Bri."

Brian watched as John walked off the front porch. He slinked inside the door as his father closed the door. Brian's palms were sweaty from the nervousness that took over him but it seemed like their mission was accomplished. "Not bad for a tutoring session, huh?" he said to his father, hoping that they would at least have some good conversation.

"As long as you're not neglecting your own studies," his father simply said to Brian and walked away from him.

Brian felt his shoulders fall as he watched his father walking away from him. That was evident enough that his parents were still disappointed in him for bringing that flare gun to school. Oh if only they knew the reason behind it. Aside from his father's comment, there was one good thing that came out from today. Even though Brian would still see Susan at school, this was one first date/meeting that he was going to cherish until his grounding was over.

John looked over his shoulder and scoffed when he heard the door closing behind him. He walked over to Susan and handed her physics book. "Stuck up bastard," John mumbled under his breath.

"Seems like that wasn't a good first meeting," Susan commented.

"Why do I care?" John said and then looked at Susan. "Did you enjoy your date, meeting, or whatever the dork called it?"

Susan nodded her head to him. "Yeah, it was very fun." She held the physics book close to her chest and smiled at John. "Thank you so much for your help with all of this."

"Just don't get used to it Picasso," John said to her. He looked around them and noticed that it was beginning to get dark. "You know your way home from here?" he then asked her. When she didn't answer, John realized that she may not know her way home from Brian's house. "Relax, I'll walk you home."

Susan was relieved upon his offer. Aside from her not knowing the direction to her home, she would rather not walk alone in the dark.

"Just keep your eyes peeled so you don't get lost," John told her.

Susan walked alongside him. There was an air of determination in John as he took the lead. "You certainly know your way around the neighborhood," Susan said.

He had spent more time on the streets than he did at home. It was the lifestyle that he had chosen and through that, he had gained some helpful skills that not even school could teach him. "You have to learn one way or another," John simply said to her.

"It's amazing how some people can embrace the streets…kind of like an old friend. You just become comfortable walking in them," Susan commented.

John turned his eyes towards her. "You're a poet too?" he teased her. If becoming part of the streets was equivalent to an embrace, she was wrong. John remembered the first time that he stayed out of his home, he was frightened of the people that he had seen and the nightlife that was around. Some of it was fun and some of it was dangerous. That's when he decided to head home late at night when his parents, primarily his father, was asleep.

Susan rolled her eyes at John's question. "No, we have just been studying them in English class."

"Good," John jumped in, "because I can't think of any other name for you than 'Picasso.'"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Susan said to him.

"But what's your story?" John asked her, "other than the whole Vernon family thing. What made you interested in art?" He had caught bits and pieces of the conversations that she had with Brian, but never gotten the full story.

This was a question that Susan felt she was going to talk about sooner or later with her new group of friends. Brian had been the first and when she confided in him, she feared that she would start crying. However, she was glad that she was able to get through that conversation without any tears. She took a deep breath and looked over at John. "It was my mom. She was a great artist and I remember being with her whenever she drew or painted."

A moment of envy stabbed John when Susan said that. "And what? Did you do handprint designs on your canvas?" he bitterly asked her.

"Actually…" Susan thought about it, "yeah…yeah, we did!" She remembered how fun that was, not to mention getting paint everywhere.

She was as oblivious as Brian whenever John made a sarcastic remark. John hadn't meant to feel the way that he did, but it was difficult to be with someone that had something, which he didn't.

"Her lessons are what helped me grow as an artist. I'm not as good as she is…" she bit her lip at the slip, "was but I'm slowly getting there."

Slowly getting there was an understatement to John. All those drawings that he had seen and the portrait that she had given John of himself was something that he believed should be held up in a gallery. "Looks like you two were pretty close, huh?" he asked her.

"Yeah," Susan nodded, "when I heard the news that she died I…I couldn't believe it."

There were losses that John had experienced, but nothing that resulted in the physical death of a family member. In his case, both of his parents had figuratively died ever since they began to mistreat him. But was that equivalent to the same loss?

"When did this happen?" John asked her.

"Last year," Susan said. "I was sitting in Home Ec class. We were supposed to bake…something I can't even remember what it was. Uncle Richard called me to his office and told me the news about what happened."

John tried to think back on last year, if he had ever seen Susan in the halls. The only image that came to his mind was a girl that always clutched onto her sketchbook and scurried from one class to another. Now, that same girl was walking alongside him and perhaps a little more open that she was prior. John was about to make a joke concerning Vernon, but even he knew how sensitive of a topic this was for Susan. "It takes guts for you to draw after what happened," he said.

"It's my way of feeling close to her," Susan told him, "like I'm honoring her memory. Some people just don't understand."

"Screw them," John said to her. "They don't know what good art is even if it punched them in the face." Speaking of art, John thought of the sketches that he had seen. The woman in the dark room, fire coming out of her mouth, and a tear falling from an eye. "Those three pictures that you drew, were they of what your mom felt?" he asked her.

Susan knew real well which one's John was referring to. "Yeah," she said as they took a turn down the street and into the neighborhood that Susan was familiar with, "it's supposed to be a story behind it. There came a time when my mom was feeling so lost. She barely had enough money to support herself and me. She tried to locate my father but she didn't have much luck on that. She didn't want to reach out to my grandmother and take her money so she tried my uncle. She only got a lecture from him and her 'bad choices.' She felt so angry at that time that she didn't know what to do. I saw her caught her crying one night. She thought that her keeping all these feelings a secret, when in fact, I saw what she was going through."

John hadn't realized that those drawings had a deeper meaning to them.

"I think that's what led to her heart attack," Susan finished, "it was all that stress." Whether that was true or not, Susan wished that her mother hadn't left her so early. "I just wish there were some things that I can tell her…like today."

John was never good at these types of conversations. It was part of life and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Seeing Susan was affected, even though she tried to hide behind a calm façade, he could see that she had wanted things to be different. John walked Susan up to the front porch of her door and when he looked at her, he could see that there were some tears hiding in the corner of her eyes. Damn it John thought.

"Hey," he then said, "why the waterworks?"

"I'm sorry," Susan apologized as she pressed the tips of her fingers against her eyes, "I don't want to ruin the rest of the night. I spent a great afternoon with Brian and now I'm crying."

It sounded ridiculous, but didn't do John. "Just…" he bought his hand in the air and hovered it over Susan's arm before he gave her a gentle pat, "pull yourself together. I'm sure your mom would have wanted you to keep on living your life."

A lot of people had said that to her. She was trying to but it was hard when lots of things were kept under restriction. "Thanks John," she smiled at him.

"Don't mention it," John said and then pressed his finger on the doorbell.

The door was immediately opened by an older woman that John had seen when Brian was at the front door. "Susan!" she exclaimed as she adjusted her glasses and looked at John, "two boys in one afternoon?! What is the meaning of this?!"

Susan immediately blushed and John smiled widely at the woman's assumptions. "Grandma, this is John and he's a friend. He was walking me home."

"Why didn't your gentleman caller walk you home?" Dorothy asked her. "Goodness, chivalry is dead!" she then smiled at the sight of John, "nice to meet you, dear. Thank you for walking my granddaughter home."

"It's a pleasure," John said, hiding behind that charm of his. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said to Susan as they bid their goodbyes and he headed his way.

It was still too early to heard on home. Maybe a stop by that diner would be a good idea. After all, those milkshakes looked pretty damn good.