Bubbles POV
The lecture hall was stuffy, filled with the low murmur of students trying to stay awake through another afternoon class.
Honestly, sometimes I wished I could just fly away to somewhere more exciting. No such luck though, back the to reality of rndless note taking – ah, college life.
I popped another chocolate into my mouth, savoring the rich, creamy sweetness. It was my favorite – dark chocolate with sea salt – and Boomer, of all people, knew it.
He'd been sending me "I'm sorry" packages filled with chocolates and flowers for months now, a pathetic attempt to win me back after, well, everything he put me through.
I hated the gesture, hated that he thought he could just buy his way back into my good graces. But I couldn't bring myself to throw my favorite chocolates away.
They were just so good.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I discreetly pulled it out, a grin spreading across my face as I saw Dil's name on the screen.
DIL: Professor droning on about quantum entanglement... snorefest. You holding up ok?
I giggled silently, quickly typing back a response.
ME: Tell me about it. Lectures are like watching paint dry. I swear, I'm gonna turn into a giant brain if I have to sit through another hour of this.
DIL: Maybe that's not a bad thing. Think of all the cool inventions you could come up with.
ME: True, but then I'd have to wear glasses and a lab coat all the time. Not exactly my style.
Dil and I had been texting nonstop since the night before our trip to China. It had been… intense. Between tracking down that tungsten and trying to piece together what happened to Buttercup, our conversations had taken on a whole other level of intimacy.
We were sharing things with each other that we hadn't told anyone else, our fears, our hopes, our dreams. And it felt good, like a warm, safe haven in the midst of all the chaos.
ME: Speaking of inventions, how's the Spectro-Gizmo coming along? Any progress?
Last I heard, Blossom had used her laser vision to fuse the new component to the device, and now it was back intact in Dil's hands, hopefully working better than ever.
DIL: Blossom's been running tests all day. Fingers crossed we get some answers soon.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket as the professor shot me a disapproving glare. I tried to focus on the lecture, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Buttercup. It had been weeks since the funeral, but the pain was still raw, a constant ache in my chest.
After class, I hopped on the bus into town, needing to pick up some art supplies for my next project. I was sketching a lot these days, mostly abstract stuff that reflected the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
I was halfway through a particularly angsty rendition of a swirling vortex when I spotted Ace slumped on a bench near the bus stop, a familiar sight these days.
He looked even worse than usual, his clothes rumpled, his eyes bloodshot.
"Hey Ace," I said softly, taking a seat next to him.
He looked up, startled, then a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "Bubbles," he mumbled, his voice slurred. "Didn't… didn't see ya there."
"Yeah, rough day?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
One of his bandmates – a tall, lanky guy with snake tattoos crawling up his arms, appropriately named Snake – appeared beside Ace, shaking his head sadly.
"He's been like this ever since… you know," Snake said, his voice low.
"I know," I replied, my heart aching for Ace. He'd always been a bit of a mess, but Buttercup's death had hit him hard. She'd been his everything, his anchor in the storm of his own demons. "How's he coping? Truly?"
Snake hesitated, then sighed. "Not well. Not well at all. He doesn't sleep, barely eats. Just… drinks and plays that damn guitar until his fingers bleed." He jerked his thumb towards a beat-up acoustic guitar leaning against the bench.
"It's like… part of him died with Buttercup," Snake added softly.
I knew what he meant. Buttercup had been the fierce, fiery heart of their relationship. Ace, despite his tough-guy persona, had always been the softer one, the one who leaned on her strength. Now that she was gone, he was lost, adrift in a sea of grief and self-destruction.
"He and Boomer used to hang out a lot, you know," Snake mentioned casually, as if it were just a random thought.
My head snapped up. "Boomer? Seriously ? They were close? Before…" I trailed off, not wanting to say the words before Buttercup died.
That didn't make sense.
First of all, we had never gone on double dates. In fact, Boomer despised the Gang Green Gang - Aces gang. I would know, any chance he got he would spew all kinds of derogatory words to describe them.
Boomer was all about appearances, carefully cultivating his image as the cool, popular jock. Ace, with his grungy clothes, perpetual scowl, and love for all things dark and brooding, didn't exactly fit into that picture.
Why would Boomer even bother with him? Unless there was something more going on.
"Yeah, they'd meet up at the skate park sometimes," Snake said, confirming my suspicions. "They'd argue a lot, too; but… I dunno, there was something between them. A kind of… understanding."
Snake shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the bombshell he'd just dropped. He took a swig from a flask he pulled out of his pocket, offering it to Ace, who waved it away.
I needed to tell Dil.
This new information, it felt important, like another piece of the puzzle we were desperately trying to assemble.
ME: You won't believe who I just bumped into. Ace, and he was with Snake. Guess what Snake told me?! Ace and Boomer were close! Like, weirdly close.
DIL: Interesting... Boomer's a social climber. He wouldn't waste his time on someone like Ace unless he was getting something out of it.
My gut churned.
Dil was right.
Boomer was all about using people, manipulating them to get what he wanted. And right now, what he wanted was me, but what could he possibly want with Ace?!
I said my goodbyes to them and as I was walking my superhearing picked Ace's phone ringing - a jarring, punk rock ringtone that I know my Buttercup loved. He fumbled for the phone, his movements clumsy, and finally managed to answer it, slurring a greeting.
"Yeah… Boomer… wha doyya want?"
My ears perked up even more; I stopped by the street corner pretending to text but eavesdropping from a block away.
Even from a distance, I could hear Boomer's voice, smooth and confident, laced with a hint of something… smug condescension. My super-hearing, a blessing and a curse.
"Just checking in, Ace," Boomer said. "Wanted to make sure you got that transfer I sent you. Ten grand should tide you over for a while, right?"
My blood ran cold. Ten grand?
What the hell was Boomer playing at?
"I don't want your blood money, Boomer," Ace snarled, his voice suddenly clear, filled with a raw anger that sent a shiver down my spine. "Leave me alone!"
He hung up the phone, tossing it onto the bench beside him.
"What was that about?" Snake asked Ace, his voice low.
Ace just shook his head, his face a mask of pain and fury. He stood up, swaying slightly, and grabbed his guitar.
"I'm outta here," he muttered, stumbling away without another word.
My mind was racing. Boomer sending Ace money? And Ace calling it blood money? It didn't make sense. Unless… unless Boomer was somehow involved in Buttercup's death.
The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, sending a wave of nausea through me.
It was a terrifying possibility, but I couldn't put it past my ex. Boomer's need to control had always been excessive, his history of manipulation - it was all there. However I could be reading the situation wrong.
I needed to find Dil. Now.
This wasn't just about getting closure anymore. This was about uncovering a potential crime, a dark secret that could have deadly consequences.
As I ran towards the bus stop, my heart pounding, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease.