Chapter 13: Wrong

Warren's POV

That was stupid of me. So stupid.

As I'm washing the dishes at work around eight-thirty, I mutter to myself most of the time, constantly focusing on not cracking any dishes or glasses as my irritation smoulders, fed steadily by the unshakeable images of everything I did in that private corridor after PE: intervening for her, holding her as she cried, helping her blow off steam, catching her as she tripped…. All of it, too close. But she's already seeped into my bones, my bloodstream, like a river carving heedlessly straight through rock; I can't just leave her if she's hurting. I lost that sort of willpower against her long ago. I'd lost myself so completely in those moments that I hadn't even realised how dangerous and stupid I was until I discovered my heart was pounding in my throat as she walked away, and I found that I wanted to run after her to stop her leaving. God, when she paused after that first "will you", for one horrifying, idiotic, glorious moment I thought she was going to ask me to homecoming. And my damn mouth would probably have said yes before my brain could convince it not to! Also, when I was gasping for air in the fight, when I heard her scream out, my immediate reaction was fear and relief; fear for her, that she would get involved in this fight with someone who obviously had no issues with making people suffer, and relief because…well, it was her. If there is anyone I want at my back in a dangerous situation, it would be her.

"F**k, I'm in such deep shit," I growl to myself as I scrub angrily at a pot.

Lin walks back into the kitchen at that point, and glances at me briefly. "So, what's lit you up?" she asks in Mandarin. Since she knows about both my anger issues and my power, she loves to make stupid jokes like that.

"Nothing," I snap in the same language.

She grabs my wrist before I can scratch the non-stick coating on the pan and gives me a dry look. "Just because you're moping that Kait's not here doesn't mean you can damage my kitchen equipment."

"'Moping'?" I echo furiously, not bothering to keep my voice down; it's not like any customers out there can understand us anyway. "I'm not moping, I'm nowhere near moping! You're crazy if you think that! I don't mope anyway! And I sure as hell wouldn't mope over Kaitlyn!"

She just stares at me, an infuriating mix of haughty amusement and boss-like no-nonsense expressions on her face. "Ever heard of protesting too much?"

Thank God for Mei coming into the kitchen then, otherwise I might have blown up at Lin and ended up losing my job. She sighs in exasperation.

"That girl is still holding out on her date turning up," she says, her face sympathetic.

"Poor kid," Lin replies. "That first time of being stood up is agony. You toughen up for the other times though. If she ends up ordering one of the small plates, give it to her on the house."

"Wait," I frown at her, "does that mean you've been stood up before? I didn't think anyone was that brave."

Her lips quirk and she winks at me, so I smirk in response, glad she's taken my apologetic truce. Taking a deep breath, I feel myself simmering down significantly, my fury being replaced by weary resignation as I lean into my stupidity earlier in the day and the stupidity of just a moment ago. I drag my hands over my face once before grabbing a cloth and spray bottle and announcing: "I'm going to clean some tables."

"Okay," Lin calls out. "The orders for table three should be done in the next five minutes. You okay to take them out?"

"Sure," I throw back.

The rest of the dinner rush goes without a hitch, once I've finally managed to stop basking in how irritated I am with myself. Around half-nine, most customers have left, and we're less rushed off our feet, so I'm taking my time more with clearing and cleaning tables. Carrying a pitcher from a previous vacant table, I spot the poor bugger who got stood up, just staring down at her food that she eventually ordered. I amble up to her.

"You still working on that?" I ask gently.

She looks up at me dejectedly, then her eyes widen and her mouth opens slightly as she takes in my face. I blink at her, too, taken by surprise.

"Hey," says the hippie friend of Kait's.

"Hey," I reply carefully.

Dude, don't just stand here like a moron or she'll think you don't recognise her.

"We go to school together," she reminds me.

Told you.

I nod. "You're Stronghold's friend." She starts to look uncomfortable and awkward, so I quickly add: "And Kait's."

She smiles cautiously. "Layla," she offers.

I nod in greeting before I gesture to her plate. "Want me to heat that up for you?"

She glances around worriedly then leans closer. "You're not supposed to use your powers outside of school," she reminds me in a whisper.

My lips tip up in a disbelieving, amused smirk at her do-gooder attitude, but I humour her and lean down, too. "I was just going to stick it in the microwave," I reassure her.

She laughs once, embarrassed. She actually has a really nice smile, I note with mild surprise. She glances self-consciously at the table, stuttering as she tries to offer an explanation.

"I was, uh…supposed to be meeting Will here, but, uh…"

Of course, Stronghold was the jackass who stood her up. Because why wouldn't he? She meets my sympathetic gaze, then smiles, a curious expression on her face.

"You wanna sit down?"

My eyes widen and my eyebrows shoot up. That is not something I was expecting her to say. She's in front of the guy who doesn't hide his distaste for the guy she obviously has a thing for – who tried to actually severely harm him – and she asks him to sit with her? No one has been that brave and unprejudiced with me since….

Kaitlyn.

The similarity between the two of them in this moment warms me, and maybe it's because I've missed Kaitlyn this evening, but I find myself placing the pitcher on the table after glancing around to make sure I'm not missed.

"I think I can spare a minute," I say as I take a seat.

As I slide into the bench opposite, some part of me acts on instinct, and I lean towards the candle by the side of us, clicking my fingers to summon a small flame on the end of my index finger and using it to light the candle. She watches the whole act with a pleasantly surprised expression before laughing incredulously. I can't help but give her a small smile, feeling weirdly proud that I made her laugh after what I'm sure was a shitty evening. She seems unsure what to do now that I've actually sat down, but I don't push her, letting her get her bearings and make the first move.

"So, uh," she begins, haltingly, "how long have you worked here?"

"Since I was twelve," I reply, "but at first it was just washing dishes. I've got more involved as the years have gone on, and my boss encourages me to have more of a front-of-house presence than I've had before."

"You know, I'd actually recommended this place as somewhere for Kait to get a job at the beginning of the semester. Is she here, too?"

"Yeah," I nod, "she works here some evenings, though not tonight. She said she wasn't feeling great after PE, so she's not on her shift tonight."

Layla's smile twitches in discomfort. "She was really worried about you in PE, you know. I thought she was actually going to attack Speed!"

"Wouldn't have surprised me if she had," I chuckle. "But, yeah, I know."

A silence descends on the table that's only slightly awkward, so I consider that a good sign.

"I'm really glad she has you, you know," the hippie gives me a tentative but warm small.

Goddammit, how the hell did we get so fixated on Kaitlyn? I wanted to distract myself from her!

And yet, I can't stop myself from inquiring further: "Oh, yeah?"

She nods. "I don't know what it is, but there's always been some kind of deep-rooted sadness to her, and a thin but impenetrable wall between her and everyone else. I've never been able to figure out whether she's fundamentally different from the rest of us in some way, or if she just thinks she is. But, from that short reassurance I saw you give her just after she lost at Save the Citizen, she seems closer with you."

Unwilling to give away any secret of Kait's, I cautiously ask: "What has she told you about her life?"

"Nothing," Layla shrugs. "She's said things like she loves music, but she mainly talks about stuff at school; homework, coursework, class discussions, her favourite classes, that sort of thing. But never about anything outside school."

Gazing off to the side, I sigh through my nose. The fact that Kaitlyn obviously doesn't yet feel comfortable telling the rest of her friends about her home situation saddens me, but at the same time, I like that I'm the only one who knows. I'm the one who understands her, I'm the one she's spoken to, I'm the one she can be completely open with. The exclusivity of her trust and the exposure of her full self makes me feel like a damn king, though I can't tell you why.

Desperate to try and steer the conversation away from the dangerous subject of Kaitlyn Rivers, I gesture to her plate and say, "You've barely touched your food."

Her lips quirk once in a sad smile, staring at her fingers as she fiddles with one of her rings. "Didn't feel hungry before."

"Skipping meals is bad for you," I insist. "Want me to heat it up and you can have another go?"

She blinks at me, surprised, before stuttering, "Uh, okay, sure. I am actually starting to get my appetite back now that you mention it."

I nod, sliding out of the booth and grabbing her plate before heading to the back. After a quick blitz in the microwave, I carry it back to her.

"Here you go," I place it in front of her before sitting opposite her again. "Dig in."

Layla gives me a grateful smile before hesitantly picking up her chopsticks and taking a bite of one of the carrot dumplings. Before long, she's enthusiastically demolishing the rest of her small plate and main. I wait patiently for her to finish, smiling slightly at how much she's obviously enjoying the food. When she finishes, her self-consciousness seems to catch up with her, and she shyly wipes her mouth with the napkin.

"Sorry," she mutters.

I shake my head reassuringly. "Just glad you got a good meal out of tonight." Then I frown at the orchid in the vase at the edge of the table. "Wait, I swear that was drooping more when I got here."

She chuckles shyly, fiddling with her rings again. "Uh, that was probably me."

I raise my eyebrows at her, almost certain I'm taking her meaning correctly. She smiles and shrugs self-consciously, but raises her eyes to stare at the orchid. As we watch, it picks itself up even further and the petals bloom that little bit wider with that little more colour. I can't help smiling at her power.

"Neat," I say. "So, you really are a hippie."

She giggles. But my brow twitches as I follow the logic further.

"And it was drooping earlier because…"

Her smile turns sad again as she sighs. "He's usually better than this. This isn't like him."

No doubt my eyes and expression are sour and heavily dubious, but in spite of this I allow: "I'll take your word for it."

"I've known him for years," she insists, becoming more animated as she talks. "He always knows when I'm feeling down about something, and is usually pretty good at guessing what might have caused it. Then he just instinctively chooses the best way to cheer me up. Once when we were 9, I got really upset that a bunch of kids just stomped all over some geraniums in the park, and the next day he turned up at my door with some gardening equipment and geranium seeds. Even though he had no clue what he was doing in a garden!"

Listening carefully to her description, the barest twinge of guilt resurfaces for fighting him in the cafeteria. "That guy sounds…decent," I admit, quietly.

Layla smiles warmly, meaningfully. "And it's been like that for years. There was this time in first grade; you know how you grow lima beans in school? Well, Will could not figure out why mine was growing so quickly, it was driving him crazy! So, finally I took mercy on him and told him about my powers. We've been best friends ever since."

"Hm. And falling for him, was that before or after the lima beans?"

Panic flashes across her face and in her eyes for longer than she probably thinks it does, poor thing.

"What?" she laughs, completely over the top. "I am not in love with Will Strong…"

My disbelieving raised eyebrow stops her from putting any more effort into denying it.

"Is it that obvious?" she asks quietly, her expression slightly pained.

"Yeah," I nod sympathetically.

She grimaces. "Great."

"So why don't you tell him?"

"Well, I was going to ask him to homecoming," she says, and I force myself not to react to the skip in my chest at the idea of asking someone to homecoming. Luckily, she continues heedlessly. "But there're two problems: he likes someone else, and she's…perfect." It's impressive how many emotions she manages to put into that last word; self-consciousness and resignation with just the slightest tinge of spite and disgust.

Wait, that senior with the saccharine smile? The one that Kaitlyn calls the Pink Wonder? She's the "perfect" one? No accounting for taste, I guess. Letting that slide, I decide to help the hippie out.

"You know what I think?"

She raises her eyebrows in response, so I continue in a solemn voice.

"To let true love remain unspoken is the quickest route to a heavy heart."

Her eyes practically melt, and I have to suppress my urge to smirk. "Wow," she gasps. "That is really deep…."

"Yeah," I murmur, then pull out the fortune that she'd left on the side of the table that I had been fiddling with before, "and your lucky numbers are four, sixteen, five, and forty-nine."

She started smiling as soon as she realised my ruse, but she laughs as I finish. Yelling from the open kitchen hatch interrupts before she can say anything though.

"Wow, you move on quick!" Lin shouts sarcastically in Mandarin. "First, you're moping over Kaitlyn, then you're slacking off work to flirt with the emotionally vulnerable customer!"

"You're actually delusional, you know that?" I call back in the same language.

She has a point though, not about Kaitlyn or Layla, obviously, but about work; I should probably get back to it. So, I turn to Layla again.

"I gotta go," I say, passing her the fortune. Picking up the pitcher again, I throw a final, "See you around, hippie" before standing and continuing my argument with Lin.

"Never thought you'd be one of those that just needs to see a pretty smile to be distracted."

"I'm not," I insist. "Would you cool it? It turns out she's someone from school, is all. She asked me to sit down and I figured she could use someone to talk to and distract her from a crappy night."

"How noble of you," she says sarcastically, "but maybe you should figure out whatever hang-ups you have over one girl before you start chasing after someone else's."

I snort. "You're hilarious, but the hippie is really not my type." I set the pitcher down next to the sink to start washing some dishes again before I stop short, turning back to Lin. "Wait, 'figure out whatever hang-ups I have over one girl'? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She raises an eyebrow at me over the receipts she's counting and organising. "Oh, please, kiddo. For one, I was your age once, too, and for another, I'd have to be blind to miss it. You have a thing for Kaitlyn."

My face flushes, though I can't tell if it's from fury or embarrassment. Lin just gives a small smirk after seeing my reaction before continuing to log receipts, despite my enraged scowl.

"You're…. I don't…. I'm not…."

Why won't my mouth work properly?!

But my brain short-circuits any time it tries to come up with a way to deny or deflect Lin's claim, and my face heats up further. She finishes her pile of receipts and clips them together before turning to me with a surprisingly serious and tender expression.

"Warren, you two gel so well together," she says. "You complement each other, sharpen each other, strengthen each other. What I don't understand is why neither of you are doing anything about it."

"Because I can't!" I exclaim. "Yes, okay, you're right! She's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. You think I want to jeopardise that?"

Shit. Shit, what have I done? What did I just say? My breath, already short from the intensity of my outburst, quickens and stutters as I stare in horror at my long-term family friend at the vulnerability I just exposed to her. Her eyes soften as she takes in my panicked expression, and she walks to stand closer to me, leaning back against the countertop opposite me.

"Why would anything be jeopardised by you being honest with her?"

I shrug, eyes averted as I suddenly feel exhausted. "She's better than me. She's had such a hard life, one that's really messed up, and that would have broken lesser people. But she's risen above it. She's not let it turn her bitter, she still sees good in the world, and still wants to give good back to it. And compared to that…. There's no way I'm good enough for her."

She sighs. "You've been dealt a shit hand in life, kiddo. You have. But please don't let past pain taint any chance you have of being happy. From what I've seen of both of you, I really don't think she'd be upset at all if you told her you liked her as more than a friend."

I shake my head. "Thanks, Lin, but I just don't believe you. And if I damage what we have already by saying something awkward…" Even just imagining a scenario where Kaitlyn might walk away from me causes a pain to spike through my chest, stealing my breath again. I swallow thickly. "Well, I'm not taking that chance, anyway."

She sighs again, somehow even more sadly than the first time. "I know better than to try and change your mind. But think about what I've said, okay? I wish you'd stop writing yourself off like that."

My shoulders are heavy as I shrug. "Everyone else does," I mutter. "I'm just following their example."

Except Kaitlyn, my mind whispers soothingly. She's always seen beyond what others did, beyond what others have told her. She's seen me as something more, something better. God, I wish I was better for her.

"Not everyone," Lin reminds me, hurt, "and just because the majority do it doesn't make it right." She pauses before sighing again one last time. "Head home, kiddo; I'll finish up."

I nod in understanding and thanks, gathering up my bag to go and change into non-work clothes. I pause at the doorway, heart leaden.

"Sorry, Lin," I murmur. "I just –"

"I get it," she reassures me gently. "It's hard to shake what you've believed for so long. I just hope that sometime soon, you'll figure out that I'm right."

You have no idea how much I want you to be right.

I throw an attempt at a smile over my shoulder.

ЖЖЖ

I can't sleep that night. Mom definitely notices that something's wrong when I get home; I'm even quieter than usual as I prepare for school the next day and for bed, and I wouldn't be surprised if a dark cloud literally follows me around the house. She's used to these depressive spells of mine though, so no matter how much it kills both of us, she leaves me to work through it on my own, as I need to. This isn't like other times though; I can't seem to shake it like I normally do. Skin prickling, I thrash angrily in bed as my mind and emotions oscillate violently between vehement denial of everything awkward with Kaitlyn and vibrant hope that things might actually work out if I take that chance. Waking up the next morning, I feel like I've run a marathon inside my head.

And the race still hasn't finished either; all through morning classes, I can't stop cycling through 'what if's and bad ideas only to wrench myself back to reality about how they really actually are bad ideas. By the time lunch rolls around, I'm almost a zombie, exhausted and entombed in my own mind. As I sit at my usual table, I suddenly panic; how am I supposed to act normal around Kaitlyn when she sits with me? She is absolutely going to notice that something is wrong, given how sharp she is and how close we are. So what should I say to explain it?

I could tell her the truth. Just take her somewhere more private, then tell her that my feelings for her aren't exclusively friendship-orientated anymore. Hell, she stayed my friend, accepted me as I am, after I burned her hands, it wouldn't be like her to be scared off by something like feelings. Shit, what if she stays? What if she feels the same?! Could this actually work…?

Yeah, or she could run for the hills because her life is already messed up enough without having to cater for a damaged f**k-up of a boyfriend.

Shit…. Boyfriend….

My face burns as I glare at the table.

A tray clatters as it is placed directly across from me. My pulse skyrockets and my heart leaps into my throat. I take a moment to try and calm myself before I look up. But instead of stunning blue eyes and luscious brown hair, I'm met with overly cheerful brown eyes and bouncy red hair.

"Hey, Warren," the hippie cheers.

The sheer incongruity of the situation, despite being terrified when I'd first thought it was Kaitlyn who sat down, stokes my anger, and I'm colder with Layla than I really intend to me.

"Did I do or say anything last night to make you think this is okay?"

She's completely undaunted. "Haha, you're so funny, but, seriously, you're never gonna believe what happened: I was just about to ask Will to homecoming when – wouldn't you know it? – I told him I was going with you instead!"

She's completely lost it. And way over the line. And totally deluded. How the hell did she misread what happened last night so badly?

"I don't remember that being the plan," I fume, the wrongness of this whole situation grating me. But it gets worse; the purple punk casually takes a seat next to Layla.

"Hey, Layla, have you done the history homework?"

"What do you think you're doing?" I demand.

"It's called sitting," she shoots back easily.

"No one sits here but me."

Except the one person you're both dying to see and desperate to avoid.

The two girls are as unimpressed by my act as my subconscious; the punk heedlessly continues her dumb conversation about damn history homework of all things, completely ignoring me.

Suddenly, I feel two presences either side of me, and the orange geek grins as he sits on the seat to my right.

"We're eating at Warren's table now? I feel extremely dangerous," he laughs.

"Whoa, whoa." My shoulders immediately raise defensively as I am quickly overwhelmed by company. Even Kait wasn't as callous at approaching me as these guys; she knew I needed time, needed to get acclimatised. This is way too much way too fast. Why are they not scared of me? They should be scared of me, right? They should think I'm scum, they should avoid me at all costs, they should want to have nothing to do with me. So what the hell is happening?

Completely oblivious to my internal turmoil, the weirdo takes a seat on my right, shoving his thumb in my face. "This guy bothering you, Magenta?"

"Try the other way around," I growl.

I need to get myself out of this situation now. There is no way I'm just letting this happen, so I address the table in frustration while looking at no one: "Does anyone else need a date for homecoming?"

I'm pretty sure the orange kid raises his hand, but before I can tell him that he's now going with Layla, the hippie lets out a strained and overly enthusiastic laugh, smacking her hand on the table.

"Warren, you are cuh-razy!"

She must at least feel self-conscious enough of my 'you're utterly insane' look because, once her eyes have glanced over her shoulder, her expression becomes desperate and contrite.

"Please, I promise, I'll make this as painless as possible," she begs.

As she's speaking, I follow where I think her eyes were looking before, and spot the Stronghold brat with his new posse. Judging from his speed and the direction he's walking, he was passing us just as the hippie had the outburst that harked at a mental breakdown. She was putting on a show for the kid.

"So," I conclude, engaging with her directly again, "you're not doing this just because you like me or anything." Even the idea gives me a bad taste in my mouth. "You're doing this to get at Stronghold."

"Yeah," she admits, self-consciously.

Okay, so the hippie is giving me the opportunity to mess with Stronghold's head. Already a good deal. But she's also given me a much-needed save in ways I didn't realise at first and is certainly not what she intended: if Layla's my date to homecoming, my dumb mutinous brain can't ask Kaitlyn in a moment of weakness.

"Then I'm in," I answer both Layla and my own thoughts, unable to suppress the grin of both mischief and relief. She tries – and fails miserably – to hide her surprise at my enthusiasm, but before she can get too excited, I lean forward to sneer in her face: "But I'm not renting a tux."

As I leave the table, I deliberately smack my bag into the weirdo, hoping to get across my message of 'I don't like you'. While I'm walking away though, intending to find a quiet place to do more reading and homework, Kaitlyn walks away from the servers with some sandwiches, obviously very confused by the whole situation of me leaving while her other friends are sitting at our usual table. But rather than stop to explain to her what weird shit has just happened, I avert my eyes and walk straight past her, compelled by some sudden flare of shame and the same wrongness I experienced throughout that whole interaction.

Well…. The die has been cast. I hope that was as torturous for you guys to read as it was for me to write!