brooks & hale ✔️

brooks

nine ;
b r o o k s

BROOKS HAD A CRUSH on Hale Ryves. 

The thought was unexpected and completely unrelated to the English literature homework he was supposed to be doing. Well, maybe not completely unrelated; he was reading over his copy of The Great Gatsby and making notes, which led to a theme a little too close to home. Unrequited love. Maybe Brooks didn't have it quite as bad as Gatsby, who spent five years amassing his wealth to impress the girl (boy, in this case) he liked, but it was still enough of a problem to distract him.

He'd tried his absolute best to forget about him. Sure, he'd occasionally found himself daydreaming in class about the warm deep brown of a certain pair of eyes or letting his gaze linger on Hale from across the common room for a little too long, but he'd never acted on his impulses. He'd kept his distance and tried to ignore that warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest every time Hale smiled at him.

Fuck, he'd tried so hard and it had failed. There was no point denying it any longer. He had a crush on Hale Ryves.

It was pathetic, really, that this is how he was spending his Saturday night. Poring over his books and annotations for the essay that no one else would be starting until the Sunday night before school while pining after a straight guy. In his defence, he was still grounded for the party last week, but he doubted his mother would notice if he did leave the house. She wasn't even here to enforce it, off at whatever church event his parents were attending this time, and the only one who'd snitch on him was Adam. He knew his secret was safe with Inkeri.

Brooks chewed the end of his pencil and thought about Hale, a much more appealing train of thought than his homework. He'd said he was going clubbing this weekend and that probably meant he was in town right now, getting drunk or laid; most likely both. It was as depressing as it was undoubtedly true, and suddenly, thinking about Hale wasn't quite as fun. It also wasn't doing much for that crush he was supposed to be getting rid of.

He was startled from his thoughts by a loud crash from downstairs, followed by rowdy cheers and yells of enthusiasm. Oh yeah, how could he forget the other reason he was camped out hiding in his own bedroom? Adam had taken advantage of his parents absence to have a little "gathering" of his own, which was the tame watered down version he'd fed Inkeri for her permission.

There was no way Brooks was wandering down there, where all of Adam's drunk friends would start cooing over how young and cute he was, as if he wasn't just one year below them. But his major reason for avoiding the party zone like the plague was Reed Bishop; satan's spawn would undoubtedly be down there, waiting to make his night miserable. Brooks knew it was pathetic to hide from someone in his own house and he was doing it anyway.

His phone started ringing, and he snatched it up, glad for an excuse not to think about Hale or schoolwork or Reed. The caller ID told him it was Hassan. "Hey," he said, answering the call. "Sup, Hassan?"

"What are you doing right now?" he asked, straight to the point as always.

"Um..." Brooks glanced pitifully at the notes scattered across his desk, his failed attempt at studying. He knew what Hassan would have to say about that and wasn't in the mood for his brutal honesty. "Why?"

"I'm stuck on the late shift at this shithole, and I want to kill myself a little more with every passing second," Hassan said flatly. "This grandma at the bar keeps hitting on me and I might have to poison her so I don't end up quitting this job."