The Staredown

The air inside the shop was warm, too bright. Danny stepped through the beaded curtain first, still in his PE kit, boots tied together and slung over one shoulder. His black hair was a mess, wind-tossed and damp with sweat, blue eyes flicking around the shelves like he already knew what he wanted.

Sidney trailed behind, rubbing mud off his legs with his sleeve. Same height as Danny—except a few centimeters shorter, not that he'd ever admit it. His bright green eyes scanned the aisle, half-lidded with lazy confidence. His black faux hawk was shaved sharp at the sides, the top spiked just enough to defy gravity.

"Fizzy pop and crisps," Sidney said, already heading for the fridge. "Sorted."

Outside, through the front window, Dennis leaned against the wall like a threat someone had drawn in marker. Tall, burly, arms crossed like he was flexing without trying.
Pieface was crouched, fiddling with the string on his hoodie. Curly had his foot pressed to the glass, smearing it deliberately.

Danny clocked all of them and said nothing. He grabbed the last orange drink from the shelf. Opened it before he made it to the till.

Sidney looked over. "Oi, that was mine."

Danny drank. Didn't stop. "It's mine now."

From outside, Dennis noticed. Of course he did. He knocked on the glass once—slow. Smiling, but not in a friendly way. His spiky black hair jutted out in all directions, and that wicked grin never left his face.

Danny frowned. "He's always ready to fight," he muttered.

Sidney glanced outside again. "You gonna take him up on it?"

Danny shook his head. He just couldn't be arsed. He wouldn't admit it, but he was still feeling the bruises. Their last scrap had left him sore for a week. He didn't fight for fun—only when he had to. Dennis did it for a laugh.

They paid and walked out, the beads clacking behind them. Dennis didn't move from the wall. Just watched, that same grin carved into his face like it was permanent.

"You were useless at footy practice today," Dennis called. "Try hitting the ball next time, yeah?" His friends sniggered.

Danny didn't flinch. Just kept walking, ignoring him completely. Calm, on purpose. He knew it frustrated Dennis—because anything else would've been an invitation.

Sidney shoved a crisp in his mouth and shook his head as they walked away. "He's a proper psycho, that one."

Behind them, Dennis was still watching, expression fixed like he couldn't wait for the next excuse.