TW: mentions of self harm. nothing graphic but be careful.
Almost as soon as JD's head had hit the pillow, he was being nudged awake. His eyes fluttered open to see Heather's smiling face right above him.
"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Heather was already dressed for the day, having clothed herself in a yellow blazer and a black shirt. Her arms were crossed behind her back.
JD groaned and sat up. Heather backed up slightly to give him space. "Mornin'." He rubbed at his eyes, attempting to wipe the sleep from them. The second he was done rubbing his eyes, a box was thrust into his view. He gazed up at Heather with a confused look.
"Consider this your welcome back to Westerburg gift!" She happily chimed. JD took the box with a raised eyebrow. It was long and slender and white. It was surprisingly light. It had a narrow slit at the bottom, indicating that that was where he was supposed to open it. He eyed Heather.
"What's in it?"
Heather rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Just open it!"
JD smirked and rolled his eyes in response. He slipped his finger into the narrow slit and lifted the lid off the box. Inside the box was a black piece of cloth. JD pulled it out only to realize what it was. A black trench coat that was identical to his.
Heather couldn't contain her excitement and let out a small squee. "Stand up! Put it on! I wanna make sure I got the measurements right!"
JD smiled softly and stood up, shrugging off his old trench coat and tossing it onto the bed. He quickly put on the new one. It fit him almost perfectly, aside from the fact that it was a little baggy compared to his old one and it was also shorter in length.
Heather clasped her hands together and smiled brightly. "They're a little off, but I hope that's alright!"
"Heather, I," JD took a moment to analyze the trench coat in its entirety. "It's perfect." He locked eyes with her. "Thank you."
Heather brushed him off with a wave of her hand. "It's nothing, really!" JD made a tsk noise.
"Well, get ready for school! I'll be downstairs if you need anything!" And with that, Heather was off, closing the door to the room behind him.
JD flopped back down onto the bed, relishing the feeling of new fabric on his skin. He would have to find some way to make this up to Heather. Definitely.
The rest of the morning rolled around fine. JD eventually sauntered his way down stairs into Heather's kitchen, where she waved at him and made him a bowl of Lucky Charms. He smirked at her kindness and had maybe two bites before the sweetness overwhelmed him and he discreetly dumped the rest of the bowl down the sink. From then on, Heather invited him to watch the early morning cartoons, which he, begrudgingly, agreed to.
Despite the animation being an eyesore and the voice acting being incredibly grating, it was a level of domestic that JD had almost never felt in his entire life. He felt his back relax against the soft cushion of the couch as another episode of the cartoon opened.
It wasn't shortly after that a phone rang and Heather jumped up to grab it. She returned almost as soon as she had left, sinking back into the couch, but not resting her back into it. JD cocked an eyebrow at her and leaned forward.
"Veronica should be here in a couple of minutes!" She happily chimed, and JD gave her a soft smile in return.
Veronica came sooner than expected, pulling up to the mansion and laying on the horn three times. Heather sprang to her feet and dashed out the door. JD tried to keep up with her the best he could. Heather tucked herself into the back seat of the car, leaving the passenger side door open for him. He followed suit, giving Veronica a small wave. Veronica returned his wave with a disturbed look.
"Nice trench coat." Veronica stuttered out after several minutes of silence, as if she had wanted to say that back at the mansion but couldn't muster the strength to do so.
"You think so?" Heather leaned forward, intruding on the conversation. Veronica peered at her through peripherals before slowly nodding, a perturbed look seemingly stuck on her face.
The car went dead silent after that. The only noise that came out of anybody was Veronica muttering a quiet, "We're here." upon pulling into the Westerburg parking lot. She shut the engine off and hit the master unlock button before tumbling out and storming off, leaving JD and Heather inside, who both exchange confused glances.
. . .
It's not that Veronica hates the trench coat. It suits him perfectly, more tailored to his slight loss of height and weight. It's an almost perfect copy of the original, aside from the collars being strapped down and it having belt loops whereas the original had none. It's not that. She swears to herself that it's not. It's an incredibly thoughtful gift from Heather, and maybe, under entirely different circumstances, Veronica would've been deeply thanking Heather.
It just makes Veronica feel weird. Not the good type of weird either. She woke up with this feeling. It made her queasy. Made her deny the food her mother offered her. Made her want to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over her head, and never come out again. Seeing JD amplified that feeling.
No.
Seeing JD like that amplified the feeling.
He looked like a carbon fucking copy of the JD from before. His hair still swooped in the same way. His lips still pulled up in the exact same way. He tapped his fingers along his legs in the same way. It makes Veronica feel dreadfully nauseous. So dreadfully nauseous that halfway through driving them to Westerburg, she considered pulling off and letting Heather drive instead.
Never let be said that Veronica wasn't the type to give in so easily. Instead, she kept stealing glances at it. At him. His hair, his posture, the scar that cuts diagonally across his lips. It's like nothing ever happened between them.
But everything has happened between them.
She doesn't feel nauseous because she thinks that he thinks everything's resolved between them. They both know they have several issues they need to work out. She thinks she feels nauseous because she's feeling a sickening emotion for him.
That sickening emotion that almost got her killed last time.
Love.
And god dammit, she doesn't want to feel it. She just wants to pass her senior year and move on with life. Preferably with JD. That's it. She doesn't want to jump hurdles or run loops with her emotions because she can't handle seeing him in a trench coat that wasn't massacred by a homemade bomb.
She darted out of her car to avoid an episode. She dashed out of her car in hopes of making it to the bathroom in time to puke up her feelings. She barely does.
. . .
Heather Duke enters the bathroom by the entrance to the school everyday at 7:23 A.M. and leaves it at 7:33 A.M. promptly. She knows her routine extremely well. Drive to school, wait for Heather, make an excuse, and leave to vomit up breakfast. It's her own den of privacy for her self-destructive behaviors and she likes it that way.
Nobody in the school bothers her because they don't even know she's there and she loves it that way. She adores and relishes in the idea that her problems seem nonexistent to others.
So when she enters the bathroom at 7:23 A.M. and stalks towards the big stall in the back, she's slightly taken aback to find it shut and padlocked, with somebody already in there, puking their own guts up.
Had Heather been any more annoyed with the plethora of bullshit life had thrown at her recently, she would've barked out a curse word before turning on her heel and running to find another bathroom. However, literally nobody used this bathroom in the morning besides her. Meaning that somebody was staging a really fucked-up intervention for her or she had accidentally run into another bulimic. Heather sighed, rubbing her forehead before leaning against the stall door and knocking softly on it.
"Hello? Are you alright in there?"
The gagging stops for a second before immediately continuing. Heather leans away from the door, slightly worried about exactly how much food this person had consumed and was attempting to throw up. She rattled the door in hopes of getting the person to stop and let her in, but they continued to ignore her. She leans, eyes slitted in frustration and worry. She didn't want to do this, but she refused to let somebody else suffer from the same disease she did. She raises her leg and positions herself carefully before blowing a kick straight into the stall door.
It doesn't open, of course, Heather didn't expect it to, she was hoping that with more kicks, the rusty metal around the lock would break off. Caught up in the moment of delivering several swift kicks to the door, Heather didn't notice the stopping of the gagging.
Which made it all the more horrifying when the stall door was ripped open and she delivered a kick directly to Veronica Sawyer's abdomen.
Heather's hands flew to her mouth as Veronica immediately doubled over in pain. Veronica let out a small moan of pain before crashing against the bathroom wall and slinking to the floor. Heather instantly runs to her side, grabbing her neck and back and repositioning her to a more comfortable position. Veronica goes quiet for several moments, leading Heather to intensively worry that she might've knocked Veronica unconscious. She pokes and prods at Veronica's face.
"Veronica?" A poke to the cheek. "Veronica? Are you alive?" A poke to the neck. Veronica lets out a hearty breath.
"Heather," Her voice is barely above a whisper. Heather scoots in closer to make sure she's properly breathing. "Where in the fuck did you learn to kick like that?" Heather plops back with a mild giggle as Veronica's eyes snap open and stare at her.
"Heather. She had some pretty good strategies for fending off weirdos." Heather shook her head. "Nevermind that, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm peachy, why do you ask?" Veronica's response is dripping with sarcasm. Heather fights an urge to roll her eyes.
"Well, aside from you being splayed out on the floor from me accidentally kicking you, I overheard you," Heather pulled out two fingers and motioned towards her mouth with them.
"Is that what you overheard?" Heather nodded, raising an eyebrow at her question. "Well then you heard wrong," Veronica lifted a hand to gesture at something before dropping it back into her lap. "I was feeling really nauseous and just had to upchuck everything I ate for the past 24 hours. No biggie."
"No biggie?" Heather repeats, her voice dripping just as much sarcasm.
Veronica rolls her eyes before struggling to stand to her feet. Heather hops up and offers a hand. Veronica reluctantly takes it.
"So, where have you been? I thought you died for a solid two weeks with the way you just vanished on me and Heather."
Heather gives Veronica a taut look. "I have my shortcuts, but they were cut short."
Veronica and Heather both share a smirk at the pun before inevitably bursting out laughing.
"Well, it's good to have you around again." Veronica shares what seems to be a genuine smile. Heather can't really tell. Veronica's eyes tell the tale of just what she had been through that morning but her smile paints the facade of happiness. Just before Heather can even ask what had happened to make Veronica feel so nauseous, the loud ringing of the bell interrupts her.
"Well, I hate to cut this touching interaction short but," Heather shrugs, Veronica nods, and they both immediately part ways. Not before Heather gets one last look at Veronica over her shoulder. Her expression is unreadable. It worries Heather. She quickly shakes the nervousness off as she marches to class, letting the brief interaction between them sink into her mind.
. . .
JD has a massive target on his back. He's known this. He was prepared for the glares and sneers and jeers that he would get. Or well, he was prepared for that. He was prepared for loud shouting and insults being flung his way. He wasn't prepared for what actually happened.
Upon entering Westerburg, seemingly all eyes snapped to him and followed him until he was out of sight. Their conversations didn't waver, their gossiping didn't cease in the slightest, they didn't pause for even a moment to acknowledge his existence, they just stared.
It isn't so bad, JD muses, hunched over a piece of paper on his desk, fiddling with the pencil in between his fingers. Everybody is so focused on their own work that it almost feels like nothing has happened. That he merely was hospitalized and returned. Returning back to what he was; a nobody.
The pencil slipped out of his fingers and crashed against the desk, garnering a few stares from confused classmates. None of their stares lingered upon seeing what had happened. JD felt a little stupid for thinking that they would.
This continued, this swallowing feeling of nothingness until he entered third period. And suddenly, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that somebody's eyes were on him. It was weird. It was unnerving. Whoever was watching him was doing a fantastic job at it because JD was unable to spot them whatsoever. It was as if they were hidden in plain sight. It doesn't go away, either, it follows him for the rest of the day. He can't even focus on the curious and disgusted looks other classmates are throwing at them because their glances aren't continuous. Whoever this person was, JD just really hoped they would stop.
. . .
Heather Duke isn't great with dates. She never has been and she hates admitting to it. The other date she ever bothered to genuinely remember was Heather's birthday, and most of the time, she forgot it was her birthday until the day was already half over. She doesn't mark a calendar or keep a planner, she doesn't notice the month or day, and this habit of hers, she finds, nets her a lot of trouble.
Like when Jason Dean moseys into her third period math class and she gets harshly reminded that, oh yeah, he got discharged recently.
She can't rip her eyes away from him, his hunched form, his stupid trench coat. The teacher hands out what should be a rather simple math worksheet and Heather just simply. Can't. Do. It.
She can't tear her eyes from him. She tries. Desperately. She scribbles down random numbers to look like she's doing something but her eyes involuntarily find themselves back on him. He must know that she's watching him because every so often he puts his pencil down and glances around the room. Just, looking for something. Heather thanks Heather for her skill in observation.
And Heather hisses a silent curse at whatever forces put him in the rest of her eight periods.
Thankfully, the desk he's usually seated at is in front of her or away from her, allowing her to spy on him easier.
Unfortunately, her eyes don't care that this assignment is due at the end of class, or that she should pay attention to the chalkboard, because they keep creeping over to him. She doesn't even know what to think at this point.
At first, she felt extremely repulsed. JD of all people was in her class. Her pure hatred kept her watching, but over the span of four periods, her hatred waned and her pity kicked in. He looked like a kicked puppy, with the way he noticed every glare and glance thrown his way. It almost made her feel bad. Almost.
She was thankful when the eighth period bell rang and everyone spilled out of the classroom. Heather would surely hitch a ride with Veronica, and she would drive herself home, blasting whatever edgy music she could find on the radio. Well, she thought Veronica would drive Heather home, until she heard Heather yell her name, running down the hallway with a tired JD not too far behind.
. . .
Veronica can't bring herself to take them home. She feels terrible about it. Absolutely terrible. She should've at least told them that she wasn't up to, but she didn't think her anxiety would quell itself enough for her to properly form the words. Instead, after eighth period, she dashes down the hall, shoving students and teachers alike out of her way and bursting out the front doors before booking it to her car, cranking the engine, and stomping on the gas. Her stomach drops slightly when she sees a vague yellow form waving out the Westerburg doors, but she turns her head, flips on her blinker, and pulls onto the highway, pressing on the gas and attempting to speed away from her problems.
It works, slightly. It gives her a brief and temporary break from the persistent nausea she's been feeling all day. She pulls into her driveway and turns the car off before slamming her head against the steering wheel. She knows she's going to have to explain why she did that, and the impending doom of the consequences of her actions makes her anxiety return even more.
But for the time being, Veronica opens the door and tumbles out into the cool air, relieved to have just made it through another day.
. . .
Heather wasn't entirely sure why Veronica drove off. Veronica seemed a little distant that morning, but Heather thought it was the idea of JD returning to school above anything else.
She motions for Veronica to pull over to the front doors, and Veronica simply pulls off onto the highway and speeds out of sight. JD comes up behind her, a confused expression. She gives him a smile and tells him that it's nothing big, really.
And then the smile melts off of Heather's face as she realizes that without Veronica, she doesn't have a ride home. A reliable ride home. Heather refuses to ride the school bus ever again after the shit storm that was the first semester. And, taking one look at the yellow blurs zipping by on the highway, something tells her the buses didn't wait for her either.
So, she goes to plan C, which would be the extremely confused and mildly pissed off face of Heather.
Heather questions almost immediately why Veronica didn't drive them home, and Heather merely replies with a shrug and a pouty face as she begs once more for a ride home.
Heather reluctantly agrees, but not before shooting JD a glare.
"So," Heather starts as soon as they're all in the car. "How was your first day back?" She peeks at him through the rear-view mirror. He returns her glance through it as well. They both share a somewhat knowing look. One that states that this wasn't a genuine question, but something to placate Heather. JD can tell just from this one glance alone that if Heather wasn't in the car to serve as a mediator, Heather would be tearing into him by now.
"Fine." He shoots her back a one word reply, catching her mildly off-guard. She knows for a fact that it did not go fine for him. She was there for half of it. She watched him for half of it. It looked like the opposite of a "fine" time. But she can't sarcastically respond with what she knows without setting off several alarms for JD so she merely fakes a smile and breaks the stare they were holding and responds with;
"That's good."
Heather buys it. JD doesn't. He's seen too much of this before. His father, mostly, but also from Veronica before Heather died. Heather is much better at it than Veronica, admittedly, but he still manages to see through it. Her breaking of eye contact was all he needed to confirm his suspicion that none of this was genuine. It's hard to be genuine when you're locking eyes with somebody you hate.
JD tries to ignore her for the rest of the ride home. It isn't that far, really, but depending on how much Heather wanted to subconsciously torture him, he was sure she could make it stretch for hours.
The first jab comes from Heather.
"Well, my day wasn't too pleasant. I had to turn in a few assignments late because my attention was distracted." She glances at him through the rear-view mirror and he notices it through his peripherals. Heather looks at Heather with an odd stare.
"What happened?"
"Oh, you know, just got my eye stuck on a certain boy." Heather's odd stare morphs into a confused stare instantly. Heather is a lesbian. She's known this since their first sleepover, where she tearfully confessed that to her and begged her to not leave. What on Earth did she mean that she had her attention stolen by a man? She's about to mention her sexuality when the realization dawns upon her. Oh. It's a jab towards JD.
JD doesn't know about Heather's sexuality, so the jab caughts him slightly off-guard, but he quickly deduces that she must've been in one or more of his classes. Now that he thinks about it, that would explain his feeling of being watched. It wasn't any regular student, but Heather who kept staring at him.
Heather slaps Heather on the arm and glares at her, speaking subconscious to her to knock it off. Heather rolls her eyes and reluctantly agrees to stop making jabs at JD with a slight nod. They all subconsciously agree to drop the conversation, and they all go back to staring out the window.
. . .
It's been a week. A full, and solid week since JD has last spoken to Veronica. Hell, since either Heathers have spoken to Veronica. She's dead set on ignoring the three of them and is efficient at doing so. Well, mildly efficient. JD notices her even with her new style of wearing nothing but black, but decides against talking to her, believing that if she wanted to talk to him, she'd talk to him. He respects that she doesn't want to talk to him, or Heather, or Heather, and keeps his distance.
But damn, he would be lying if he said it didn't hurt. It's not like she's doing it deliberately, like Heather is, she just genuinely seems to be afraid and distant, and it makes JD question if he himself has done something wrong. He racks his mind trying to remember what he has done recently that could've set her off. He knows she's prone to episodes around the mention of Heather's death, but he hadn't said anything about that. Had he?
He sighs, dropping his pencil on the paper and covering his face with his hands. It hurt like a bitch but he refused to cry, but, in the darkness of his own skin, it felt nice to let a small tear out.
After all, the period right after this one was math and that was when all the real fun began. He wipes the tear away and tries to regain focus on his history assignment. He barely manages to complete it and turn it in before the bell rings and he's whisked away to five straight hours of being stared at.
JD does have to admit, it feels a little better knowing that it's Heather who's staring at him, and not some random student. At least he knows that with Heather, the worst he's getting is mental mind games. With somebody else, they might've been compelled to kill him. At this point, if someone wanted to kill JD, he would just let them.
The class has barely begun and he feels the eyes burning holes into his back. Normally, he wouldn't care, he'd shove it to the back of his mind and focus on the task at hand. But all his thoughts keep shifting back to Veronica and what she was doing. He really hopes that she hasn't harmed herself. He genuinely doesn't know what he'd do if she was hurt or, it pains him to think of it, dead.
Eventually, he just gives up. His head slouches down and he smacks it into the desk with a soft thud. This action is repeated for the rest of his classes. He's sure that the teacher is nervously eyeing him, hand poised on the phone, ready to dial 911 if he makes even the slightest movement, but he can't bring himself or his head back up.
And so, when the school day ends, and he turns in his incomplete assignment to his eighth period literature teacher, he's greeted with a horribly forced smile, a pat on the shoulder, and the assignment back, telling him to take an extra day to complete it. JD shoves the assignment in his locker before getting hauled away by Heather to be driven home by Miss Mental Mind Games.
Except today, Heather is surprisingly quiet. She doesn't once glare at him, or make a sarcastic comment, or a jab that's aimed towards him, she just focuses her eyes on the road and drives. JD doesn't mind, it's a break from the usual, but really, he's thankful for it.
When they get out, Heather gives him a glance of pity before telling him and Heather to have a goodnight. He waves her off and she presses her lips in a fine line before rolling her window back up and driving off. Heather welcomes him in and asks if he's feeling alright.
He placates her with the generic excuse of him being swamped with assignments and retreats to his room. It's only here does his brain fully start shooting him with terribly intrusive thoughts. Thoughts of how horribly he was fucking up everybody life's. How he was holding everyone back. How much better off everyone would be if he was dead. He can't take it. After 3 long years of being clean, he cracks.
. . .
Heather McNamara prides herself on being observant. It's what she's best at. She can pick up on subtle clues if someone's not feeling like themselves. She notices it with JD and his, honestly, terrible excuse of him having too much homework, despite the fact that he shouldn't have any. But, she decides to leave him be, honoring her principal that if JD wanted to tell her about it, he'd tell her about it.
God, she wishes he told her about it.
JD thinks he's being sneaky. He's not. She catches a glimpse of it almost immediately. He's just got done taking a shower in his own personal bathroom. Due to his lack of clothing, he wears a grey t-shirt out of the bathroom. That was his mistake. It's brutally red and it looks deep.
Heather feels something like horror creep across her as her eyes accidentally locate the cut. It's vertical. It appears to be deep. And it's actively bleeding. Heather feels like a complete moron for not stopping JD after school and telling him to talk to her. She almost cries over it, actually, dropping her head against her desk and praying that he would still be alive by morning.
Heather searches desperately for something she can do for JD. Anything. God, something to get him out of the house so she can remove any and all razors from his bathroom.
And then, she thinks of it. It's something that always got her mind off of macabre thoughts such as the want to end her life. She quickly dials Heather and begs her to be their ride, to which Heather agrees without any complaining, which mildly surprises Heather.
She hops up and knocks on JD's door. She gets a panicked yell telling her not to enter as he was changing. Heather snorts at the obvious lie and yells back for him to take his time. After a moment of waiting, he rips the door open, panting slightly. He's got his trench coat on. But not the one Heather got him, no the old one. Heather feels a sinking feeling in her chest, but forces a smile and directs her eyes towards his face and not his arms.
"How would you like to go shopping?"
JD gives her a confused stare. "Like, right now?"
Heather nods. JD's eyes widen slightly before returning to their normal hooded form. "I don't really know if now is a good time, Heathe-"
She cuts him off with a wave of hand. "I've gone shopping more times than I can count. It's the perfect time," JD opens his mouth to say something, but Heather quickly cuts him off. "And besides, you've had a rough day, and you've got a rough wardrobe," Heather mutters the last part under her breath. "Normally when I've had rough days, nothing makes it better like a little shopping trip!" Heather flashes him two thumbs up. His lips twitch for a moment but remain pressed together firmly.
"Alright, let me know when we're leaving."
Heather nods and waits until he's firmly shut his door to sneak up to his bathroom and remove any and all razors she can find. She darts downstairs and tosses them all in the trash can and dumps more trash on top of them to annihilate any possibilities of his scooping them out of the trash. From there, she sits in the living room and anxiously awaits Heather's arrival.
. . .
Heather arrives soon enough and lays on the horn to alert everyone of her presence. JD can hear it from his room and following the honking, he hears Heather yelling for him to come downstairs so they can leave. JD reluctantly does so, secretly wishing he had just locked himself in the room instead.
And so there they were, the three of them, packed in a car, at 6:32 P.M., driving down the interstate to the local mall, to buy JD clothes in a form of retail therapy. If JD was any more self-aware, he'd fear that Heather knew what he had done to his arms. But alas, he was fairly certain that she didn't know. Fairly. He had managed to avoid detection from his father, who normally would beat him for every cut he had on his arm. He was fairly certain that learning to avoid getting beat meant that nobody else would notice. Fairly.
They pull into the mall's parking lot and Heather parks in front of the food court. They all tumble out and shuffle inside, Heather talking a mile a minute about the new stores that have recently been put in and how this mall has a Spencers and that;
"They should have clothing that suits your," She eyes him up and down. He gives her a blank and mildly teasing stare. "Style." She nods rapidly. Heather facepalms from behind JD. Heather tells her off with her eyes. JD laughs.
They enter and Heather immediately splits off, telling them to have fun as she runs off towards the Barnes and Noble located right next to the food court. Heather waves her off and turns to JD, a bright smile plastered across her face.
"Soooooo, what do you want to do first? Food? Clothing? Chase after Heather? We've got time to do it all." JD smirks at Heather's statement. He shrugs.
"Anything, I suppose."
"Great, well, I'm starving, so, let's grab some food." Heather fishes a yellow wallet out of the pocket of her blazer. "How does slightly above-average pizza sound?"
JD shrugs and Heather takes it as a yes, and so she skips off to order them two slices.
The slices take a moment to get reheated, and once JD is able to sink his teeth into it, it's instantly the best thing he's tasted in years. He has half a mind to leap across the table and hug Heather for all her generosity, but he tames his excitement and appreciation down to a simple, "Thanks."
Heather nods, hungrily devouring her own slice and taking a large slurp out of her oversized cup filled with coke.
After they've finished, Heather discards all their trash and asks him what he wants to do next.
He, once again, shrugs, resulting in a murderous look from Heather, who grabs him by the wrist and starts dragging him towards Spencers.
JD has been inside a few Spencers in his lifetime. He'd argue that he got most of his edgy attire from the discount bin at Walmart rather than the overpriced rack at stores inside malls, but once he's inside, he feels a small warmth of happiness fade over him.
He's in his element. An edgy store, playing edgy music, selling edgy clothing. What else could be more perfect?
"Get anything you want!" Heather smiles, refusing to step foot into the store with him. He's about to ask if there's a limit but she somehow answers him before he even gets the chance to speak. "Don't worry about money, it's my dad's credit card!" She giggles and shrugs. JD smirks before turning on his heel and heading into the store.
He must've blacked out from all the joy he experienced because all he knew was he went from looking at overpriced t-shirts and black pants, to having Heather frustratedly swipe her father's credit card multiple times to buy him a giant stack of clothes.
After a solid minute of swiping, the card finally went through and Heather let out a dramatic sigh, faking wiping sweat off of her forehead. Her, JD, and the cashier shared a laugh. The cashier shoved everything into two bulky bags, which Heather picked up and offered to carry. JD wished she'd let him carry at least one, but she's adamant in carrying all of it, telling him to relax and enjoy the moment. JD smiles.
They track down Heather in the Barnes and Noble. She's wedged between a chair and a corner, a stack of books right next to her and a pile of magazines tossed on the chair. Heather looks up at them, sharing an enthusiastic smile with Heather and a muted smile with JD, before she stands up and tosses the book she was reading onto the chair. She follows them out, but not before practically ripping one of the bags from Heather's hands. Heather tries to make a fuss but Heather quickly silences her and continues onwards.
They shove the bags in the backseat of the car and are driven home by Heather, who waves Heather off and less enthusiastically waves JD off. JD is the one to carry the bags into the house, realizing just how heavy they were and making Heather promise that if they ever were to go shopping again, that Heather would have to let him carry some of it. She brushes him off and tells him to enjoy his new clothing, to which he smiles and promises that he will.
He deposits all of the clothes into his room, keeping them in their bags next to his dresser, afraid to actually commit to putting them away. He does, however, pull a long-sleeved shirt out of one of the bags and shrug it on, finally taking off his ratty, old trench coat for good. He heads to his personal bathroom to wash his teeth and brush his hair before bed when he notices something off about his counter.
His stack of disposable razors are gone. Beyond that, his package of straight razors are also gone. He silently curses himself. Somehow, Heather found out.
He can't be all mad. He feels rather happy that Heather's response to him harming himself is met with care and concern, but he feels extremely annoyed that Heather threw away his belongings without his consent. Although, on second thought, the razors did originally belong to her.
He shakes his head, opening the cabinet door below the sink. His thought is affirmed upon still seeing a pre-packaged set of razors tucked away towards the back. He kicks them farther back with his foot before closing the cabinet door again. He's about to retire to his room for the night when he hears Heather yelling for him and asking if he wants to watch a movie with her.
Considering everything she's done for him today, he smiles, and yells that he'll be right down.
"Normally, I wouldn't bother you about this, but it's a horror movie and I usually prefer to watch these with somebody else." Heather apologizes upon seeing JD at the bottom of the staircase.
JD shrugs and flops into the couch next to her. "Hey, it's alright."
Heather smiles and leans back, pressing play on the remote, and letting them both find comfort in each other's presence.
A/N: This chapter was so fun to write omg,,, just JD and McNamara being siblings/bros and Duke understanding human emotion literally what can be more fun. Also, I desperately wanted to write JD going to Hot Topic but decided that Spencers would be a better option. N in case you're wondering, the movie they're watching is Pet Semetary :))