"Good morning, Honey". My mother turns to me as she cooks breakfast, turning back to lean over the stove.
The smell of warm bacon in the air had woken me up from my sleep. Suddenly, I am starving. I don't remember the last time I had a real meal, eating what I can to get by, or skipping it entirely for the sake of my anxious stomach.
I feel different this morning, better? No, I don't feel better— I feel strangely dreadful. Embarrassed, like I've done something wrong in the eye of my mother. She's been working so much these last few weeks, so it's nice to see her home, but can't help the pit in my stomach that grows as I look at her— a failure.
"Morning." I sit down at the table.
I shouldn't feel like this, in fact, I should feel proud. I have beaten the evil, come out victorious and still intact.
The sound of glass dishes clanking against the table pulls me out of my thoughts as my mother sets an empty plate in front of me. I don't feel hungry anymore.
She sits down in front of me, at our small dining room table and smiles. I give her my best attempt at a warm one, but I have a feeling it doesn't reach my eyes. I quickly look away and we fill our plates in silence.
"So," she starts, I look down to my plate staring intently. "I got an email from your school".
I feel my heart drop into my stomach, my palms start to sweat and I drop the fork in my hand. It slams against the glass, hard— and echoes through my brain.
Fuck.
She looks at me confused, I can feel her eyes on me intense like, while I wish for the ground to reach up and swallow me whole. I clear my throat and silently beg her to continue, though I'm not sure exactly how this is going to go.
"Something about erasing a suspension from your records?" She raises a brow at me, she's not eating anymore as her hand forcefully grips the fork.
I realize I actually have to speak now, disappointingly understanding that the ground will not save me today.
"Oh, yeah. They— uhm, had the wrong person". I don't return her gaze.
"He thought you did something?" She asks, concern bleeding into her words and facial features.
"Yeah, but I proved my innocence." The words come out faster then I can stop them, I look at her wide eyed.
"You did?"
"Uh- yeah, I worked it out". I tell her.
"Alright". She looks down to her plate.
I can tell she wants to ask more questions but she's not, I feel grateful. It's over and I can finally move on.
Well— maybe there's some lose ends I still have to tie up. Including a certain boy, and something about a superhero. And-
"Mom, I broke my phone."
"What?" She looks back up to me, both her eyebrows raised.
"Yeah, I— dropped it. In the bathroom and it shattered." I rub the nape of my neck.
"When did this happen?" She puts her fork down, obviously suspicious.
"Last week". I answer blankly.
"And— you want a new one." She finishes my sentence.
I only shrug at her.
"If I can".
She's quiet for a moment, deciding on it.
"Well, I really would feel better with you having a phone, for emergencies". She talks more to herself that anything.
I perk up, excited. I honestly expected her to tell me no.
"Give me a few days, we'll go get you one." She smiles.
"Yes!" I pump my fists in the air very excited, celebrating.
She laughs at me and I feel put at ease. I don't know why I was dreading this, and I'm glad I can finally get on with my life. Back to normal, like it never even happened.
I quickly finish my food and run upstairs, restless. I feel as though I should just finish this while I'm at it, get it over with and never think about it again.
I have to talk to Stan.
I stop in my tracks as I get in my room, and the thought actually passes through me.
I have to talk to Stan.
I hold my breath for a second, running my hands through my hair.
Im scared, why and I scared? He's my friend. I've talked to him hundreds of times before. I guess this is different, now that's we've— kissed.
I groan into my hands, I hate this.
I don't really know what I want out of this conversation, I guess I want to tell him I'm not mad. That I understand why he did it, and honestly I'm grateful for it.
What?
No- I'm not grateful he kissed me. I mean, I'm greatly for... the outcome?
This is exactly why I have to talk to him, get it out of my system. Clear up everything and never think about it again. Never think about him like that again.
Dammit.
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Stan sits in his room, dark and brooding. He's angry, annoyed at his friends, mad at himself. Guilty but also insanely worried.
"If I could just, ask her.." He thinks.
But ask her what, if she thinks about it? If she liked it? No, he can't do that. Funny how something so simple, something that flashed through his brain so small, an idea could ruin everything. But everything's not ruined, it just feels that way. Maybe he doesn't have to foresight for that right now, maybe he never will.
The knock on the door takes him out of his thoughts. He grumbles and turns over in bed.
"Who the fuck could that be?" The thoughts don't even get to fully marinate in his brain before he's interrupted by his own father.
"Stan, there's a girl here for you!" His dad yells from down the hall.
"Oh shit!"
He sits up in his bed, so fast it gives him a headache. He flashes out of bed and looks around, Stan decides it look presentable enough in his room— though it could definitely be better. He kicks some beer cans under his bed and runs to the front of his house.
She's here, in his house— for the first time ever and meeting his parents. She talks to his mother, smiling and laughing and he feels his heart pound in his throat. She notices him and turns her full attention to him, still proudly wearing a smile that kills. It falters ever so slightly as she looks over him.
"Shit". The pair think in unison.
"Hey." She waves to him.
"Hey."
In a different timeline, they would smile at each other for real, maybe even embrace as they laugh and talk together about anything and everything. He would introduce her to his parents and maybe cringe a little at them all the same. But today, things were different. The elephant in the room stands so large it obstructs their view.
Back in Stan's room, he notices her look around and take in the surroundings. He feels naked and exposed as they sit together on the bed.
"So," she starts, Gripping her knees as they sit with their feet to the floor.
"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck.
"I guess, I should just say it." She breathes. "I'm- not mad at you."
Stan looks over to her, wide eyed. It's something he didn't think he needed to hear, but having it come out of her mouth makes his heart ease back into its rightful place in his chest.
"I understand why— you didn't that". She giggles.
Was this funny to her? Yes it was. The way he holds himself, like he's just killed her childhood pet, guilty. He doesn't need to be.
Stan is quiet as he looks at her, she doesn't return his gaze, instead looking at a spot on the carpet. He softens his eyes at her, no longer needing to be on edge. Letting his true feelings come out for just a second, in his gaze, before quickly shutting them back down again.
"I'm still, uh, sorry". He looks away.
This time it's her who looks at him, those deadly purely whites out and proud. He can't bring himself to look at them, scared he'll be sick.
"It's okay, Stan. It's not like it meant anything". She shrugs.
"Yeah.. right".
"The guys— they didn't see it, right?"
"Oh yeah they did". He scoffs.
She blushes and looks to the floor hiding her face in her hands. Stan smiles at her reaction.
"Dammit". She groans.
He pats her back softly.
"Don't worry to much about it". He shakes his head.
"They're mad, aren't they"?
"...I'd say so". He's quiet before he speaks.
She feels her heart rise to her throat as she wonders if she's going to have this same conversation with each of them. She does not want that.
She sighs, and looks to him, for the first time he meets her eye back.
"We probably shouldn't do that again". She jokes.
"Well, not in front of them at least". He laughs back at her.
"Right.." She rolls her eyes and leans into his shoulder, pushing him slightly.
His laugh falters immediately as he looks to her cheek. It's cover with makeup, but he can see the beginnings of a dark bruise to the side of her jaw.
"Oh shit." He gaps slightly and reaches to hold her cheek, turn her head to get a better look.
"Yeah.." she whispers.
Stan turns her head back with his finger on her chin, so now she's looking at him head on. He scrunches his eyebrows at her, full of concern and again the guilt eats away at him. She looks down with her eyes, but her head continues to look up at him. He keeps his hand there, moving to her cheek now forcing her eyes back up to him. His eyes swell and she reaches up to hold his wrist on her.
"I'm sorry." He whispers.
She shakes her head slightly, telling him with her eyes that it's okay. She's not mad, and better yet— she's not dead. They had achieved the best outcome, and that should not be something to be sorry about.
They stay like that for a while, quiet and looking into each other's expressions.
"Shit," Stan thinks. "I so want to kiss her right now."
He quickly pulls away from her, and she drops her hand from his.
"I know it's bad, you should see the rest of my body." She laughs to lighten the mood, Stan doesn't laugh.
He blushes slightly at the thought, the invite she's obviously joking about. But it doesn't help his chest, or his stomach.
"Shit, do I"-
"I got enough of that from Myst- uhm..." She blinks, stopping herself.
"From?" Stan looks to her, confused.
"No one". She laughs and shakes her head.
"It's embarrassing". She thinks.
"Mysterion?" Stan raises his voice a little. "Mysterion visited you?"
She looks at him, wide eyed and a little red.
"Y-yeah". She shakes her head again, thinking about the encounter.
"Fucking kenny.." Stan scrunches his features together.
Stan has so many questions. What did he say? What did he do? What did she tell him? He doesn't know where to start, so he just stays quiet for a moment.
"I guess I should— explain that".