Larry, for obvious reasons, doesn't feel like telling anyone about his now-accepted crush.
He's getting teased enough already, he doesn't need to hand them even more ammunition.
What he does need is to figure out what comes next. Now that he knows who she is, does he try to befriend her? Obviously.
But how?
Does he 'accidentally' keep bumping into her — less literally this time — and try to strike up a conversation? Seek her out normally and just… approach her? Or maybe he should go with his previous idea of leaving a note in his locker vents and hoping she finds it.
That's what he spent that afternoon, and part of the night, doing. Hunched in his bed, graphite stains on his fingertips, surrounded by a graveyard of crumpled pages. Trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to write.
He can't write, 'I know who you are'. That's creepy, and it'll definitely scare her off. Actually, a vast majority of his ideas would probably scare her off. Somehow, he keeps swinging between creepy and desperate and he has no idea how he accomplished that. Writing wasn't exactly his strong suit, especially when it came to stuff like this.
At this point, he's probably overthinking it. Definitely overthinking it.
But still, how does he even approach her without making things weird? It's not like they're strangers anymore. They've met, talked, and sure, it was awkward, but they got through it. She likes him. That much is clear. After all, she's been making him things, all left carefully at his locker.
Still, the idea of doing something feels harder than just thinking about it. If he's being honest with himself, he's not used to someone feeling so strongly about him. The thought of messing it up makes him nervous.
Larry glances down at the bracelet on his wrist. She probably wasn't ready to talk to him, but they did anyway. And she's definitely not ready for him to tell her that he knows she's the one leaving gifts at his locker.
But for all her nervousness, she'd still talked back, still joked with him. She didn't run off or avoid him.
The bracelet shifts when he twists his wrist, and his gaze drops to it again.
Maybe, he thinks as he stares at his crumpled attempts, he doesn't need to do anything at all.
A small smile tugs at his lips as he picks up a crumpled piece of paper. Screw the notes. He doesn't need to complicate things more. He doesn't need to write down how he feels or overthink it. Maybe he just needs to act himself and do what he has been doing and let things happen naturally. Maybe she'll approach him, or maybe they'll bump into each other again and talk. Anything could happen.
If she's meant to be a part of his life, maybe it's enough to just be there.
Not that it matters—
"I invited Travis to our table."
Sally Face had apparently chosen what to do for him.
"What."
"While you were busy thinking about who was leaving you gifts, I was off befriending Travis," Sal says as he slams his locker shut.
He frowns, caught on the thought of Sally being friends with Travis, the asshole-supreme. "Wait, what? How long have you been hanging out with him?"
"For about two months, a little after the bologna issue," Sal answers, unbothered by Larry's confusion. "He's not so bad once you get past the whole 'asshole' act. He's actually decent company, when you're not trying to kill him."
"But… why didn't you tell me about it?" He asks because honestly, that's probably something Sal should've told him.
He just shrugs, leaning against the lockers. "Didn't think it was important. You were too busy mooning over your secret admirer anyway."
He shoots him a half-annoyed, half-embarrassed look.
"Think of it this way," Sally continues, waving his hand around dramatically. "If Travis becomes my friend, Penguin automatically follows. If I invite Travis to our table, Penguin comes too."
Then, eyes crinkling, he adds, "Don't think I didn't notice your brain churning and the mess of crumpled papers in your trash this morning when I went down to get you. I know you want to talk to her again."
He does, but… Travis? Really?
He, honest to god, wanted nothing to do with the guy. He spent part of middle school and all of high school bullying his friends.
Travis had never been kind to anyone in their group. He'd gone out of his way to make Ash's life miserable, calling her a 'bitch' every chance he got, and making degrading jokes about her whenever the opportunity arose. Then there was Todd, and it was clear that Travis couldn't handle him being gay. He threw out words like 'freaks' and 'flamers' with the kind of venom that made his blood boil.
Larry knew the guy was trouble after that day in middle school. Why bother trying to get along with someone who saw them as nothing more than freaks?
And now, here was Sally, saying Travis 'wasn't that bad'—inviting him to their table, after apparently befriending him for two months.
He doesn't approve, doesn't like it, but he's not about to tell Sal who he can and can't be friends with. It's a bitter pill to swallow, though: If he wants to learn more about Penguin, he's going to have to get used to Travis.
Sal knows it too, the asshole. Probably why he sprung this up on him now.
He throws his head back with a long-suffering sigh, brushing his hair back and wincing when one of his rings caught in the strandst. "Fine. Fine. I'll let the others know, but I'm not happy about it."
"You'll see Penguin~" Sally sings, and the blush that he felt explode across his cheeks wasn't subtle at all.
"I know that, it's why I'm not fighting you on it— Fuck."
"So you admit it!"
"Okay, bye, see you in a bit!" He rushes out, his long legs carrying him as fast as possible, but he can still hear Sal's laugh echoing behind him.
Fuck!
Fuck fuck fuck!
He wasn't ready to have an actual conversation now!
Well technically not now, but the sentiment still stands.
He'd been planning on taking his time, letting things happen naturally. Let her come to him. Let nature run its course.
Why the hell is he talking about her like a stray cat?
Anyway.
He was going to go with the flow. If they met and talked again, great! If not, well, still great! If it took too long, he'd finally make a move — but he wasn't going to force it.
Now, he kind of doesn't have a choice. And on top of that, he's going to have to deal with Travis.
So, he braces himself. He lets the rest of their group know that Travis is coming with them to lunch, and, predictably, he's met with frowns and winces. At least until they realize Penguin is coming too. Then, suddenly, it's open season. Every last one of them turns their focus on teasing the hell out of him.
Pricks.
He loves them, though.
The time of reckoning comes sooner than he'd like. They pile into their usual lunchroom table, trays clattering, the routine grounding them even with the impending arrival hanging over their heads.
For now, it's easy to slip into their normal rhythm. Ash kicks things off by griping about the latest disaster in gym class — some kid faking a sprained ankle to get out of dodgeball again, only to get nailed in the leg mid-whine when the teacher forced him back in.
Todd and Maple pile on with their own horror stories from science class, mostly centered around someone knocking over a bunsen burner and causing a minor panic. Chug throws in his two cents about how he heard that the fire alarm went off last week because someone microwaved a fork in the teacher's lounge.
Larry and Sal veer into a story about some random asshole blocking the hallway for no reason, apparently convinced he owned the floor and didn't have to move for anyone. The guy had even tried to shoulder-check Sal, which earned him a look so deadpan from both of them that he actually muttered an apology and left.
It's an easy conversation. Easy enough to almost forget who's about to show up.
Almost.
He listens and laughs where he's supposed to, but the whole time, he keeps glancing at the cafeteria doors, waiting.
Soon enough, the people of the hour walk in. They come in through the farthest door, and even from across the room, it's obvious — a very heated, very hushed argument is happening. Their table falls silent as all eyes lock onto the scene. Travis is leaning in, shoulders squared, practically bristling. Penguin, on the other hand—
Well.
For someone who had seemed soft-spoken and kind of shy when she'd run into him in the hallway, she didn't look like that now.
At some point, she shoves her hands in their table's direction, sharp and deliberate. Travis hisses something back, and he never learned to read lips so he doesn't know what he said, but Penguin's response is impossible to miss.
She grabs the sides of her hair, gives them a frustrated yank, then throws her hands out in front of Travis' neck and mimes strangling him.
Larry blinks.
Actually… yeah. That kind of tracks.
Travis is an asshole, and Penguin punches him. Travis is an asshole, and Penguin threatens to kill him.
No wonder they're friends.
It even explains why Travis hasn't been a pain in the ass lately — not as much, anyway. He hadn't really thought about it before, but now that he is, it's pretty obvious. Penguin's probably the reason he's chilled out, the one keeping him in line. He hadn't bothered their group nearly as much in the past couple of months, and it dropped even further to almost nonexistent after that last bologna day.
Travis, for his part, doesn't look threatened at all. Larry watches as he catches her wrists mid-gesture and gives them a little shake. They talk for a moment, low and fast, but then something shifts. She slumps. Not in defeat, exactly, but enough to look like she's given up this fight.
Then she leans in, tilts her head down, and bumps her forehead against his collarbone. It's quick, barely a second, before she pulls back and straightens up, nodding decisively like they've come to some kind of unspoken agreement. After letting go of her wrists, Travis rubs at his collarbone over his sweater, like it actually hurt, before turning and finally heading toward their table. Penguin trails close behind, her fingers hooking onto the back of his sweater as they walk, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe it is.
The whole time, all Larry can think about is how natural it looks. She touches Travis so casually — leaning against him at lunch, bumping her forehead against him, hanging onto his sweater — and for a second, he wonders what it would feel like if she did the same to him. If she just reached out like it wasn't a big deal.
He knew it was a big deal, though, so he couldn't let himself be too disappointed. Not yet, anyway.
By the time they reached the table, he clocked immediately how tense Travis was. Shoulders tight, chin slightly ducked, like he was trying to make himself smaller. Penguin, meanwhile, was practically hiding behind him, the wrinkles on his sweater betraying how tight she was holding onto him.
It was so weird seeing Travis look nervous.
"Hey, Travis!" Sally greeted, voice annoyingly bright as he threw up a hand and waved.
Travis just kind of froze, staring at him with the guarded expression he knew all too well before finally muttering, "Hello, Sally Face."
"Hi too," Sal greeted Penguin by name, leaning back off the bench to get a better look at her behind Travis. She only managed an awkward smile and a small wave, clearly shrinking under the weight of their combined stares. He didn't miss the way Travis subtly shifted, angling himself to shield her more. Protective. It was weird.
"Come, come," Sally continued, scooting over and patting the spot he left between himself and Larry. The invitation came easy, but he could feel the tension hanging in the air as Travis moved first, sliding onto the bench.
He bristled instinctively and shifted away — not far, but enough to put a good bit of space between them. Before he could even register what was happening though, Travis was already tugging Penguin down to sit beside him.
His heart shot straight to his throat the moment she sat down. It wasn't that big a deal, really, people sat next to each other all the time.
And it didn't help that she was so close he could see the stitches in her jacket sleeve or catch the faint smell of whatever hair products she used. Something sweet but not overpowering. Coconut, maybe? He didn't know. He wasn't exactly a hair expert.
What he did know was that he suddenly felt hyper-aware of himself. Where his arms were. How he was sitting. Whether or not his leg was too close to hers.
He nearly jumped when Sally broke the silence.
"So," he started, way too casual to be innocent. "What were you guys arguing about?"
"Nothing," Penguin cringed, looking very much like she had hoped they hadn't seen it.
"Didn't look like nothing."
"It wasn't—"
"She thought it'd be a bad idea to sit here," Travis interrupted, arms crossing.
His eyebrows shot up. "Gee, wonder why."
"Larry," Sal gave him a pointed look, but it wasn't like he was wrong. Travis had bullied them for years, and now he was dragging Penguin into enemy territory like it wouldn't cause tension? Of course she'd think it was a bad idea.
Not to mention the fact that she was his 'secret' admirer and probably wouldn't survive another conversation.
Tugging at his sweater sleeves, Travis grumbled, "I told her she didn't have to come with."
"So why did she?" Ash piped up from across the table, leaning her chin on her hand.
"She would get so lonely without me," he sighed as if it were a great burden. The tone was playful, and the way Penguin gasped all dramatic-like solidified it.
"Lies and slander!" she cried, grabbing his forearm and shaking it. "I'm his emotional support."
"What? No!"
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not."
"Uh, yeah, I am," Penguin insisted, doubling down as she clutched his sleeve. "Without me, you'd just stand in corners and glower at people all day."
"Maybe I like standing in corners and glowering," Travis shot back, trying to shake her off.
"Oh, you love it," she teased, undeterred, "but someone has to keep you from morphing into a gargoyle."
He blinked. Was Travis… smiling?
It wasn't big — more of a twitch at the corner of his mouth — but it was there, and it didn't look sarcastic or mean. Just normal.
"Anyway," She said, finally releasing Travis, "if I didn't come with him, who else was gonna keep you guys in line?"
Larry choked. "Us?"
"Uh, yeah?" She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, though she flushed and ducked her head a little when she made eye contact with him. "I've been watching you guys. You're chaotic. A menace to society."
"And Travis isn't?" Ash shot back, crossing her arms to match.
"Not when I'm around," Penguin smirked, all smug, and Travis made a face but didn't argue.
The laugh that exploded from him was involuntary, but he couldn't help it. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.