We Are TroubleD – “The Dinner” (High school days, Pre-Capture)
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“We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | Next
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Content Warnings: Distrustfulness, emotional whump, mention of past trauma from bullying, social ostracization, swearing
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Darius Astor was a freak. Everyone at school knew it. He was the quiet, brooding goth kid- a mystery of a boy who sat in the back of class and kept to himself. Occasionally his classmates would catch him silently studying them as if he didn’t trust them, but he rarely spoke. No one dared to approach him. He was creepy.
Nobody wanted to associate with him, not even the theatre kids, who had a habit of collecting social outcasts. They had tried to bring him into their circle once or twice, but Darius never really fit in with them. Darius never really fit in with anyone.
Even Tristan knew about him, despite being new to the school. He had been warned that Darius was an oddball and that it was best to avoid him. After all, why waste your time with someone who clearly wanted to be left alone? Even those who had managed to talk to him said that he was pompous, aloof, and standoffish. It was clear that he wasn’t someone to bother with.
So, imagine how awkward it was when Tristan found himself alone with him one night.
It was a crisp autumn evening, and the theatre troupe had been working hard on the fall school play. The actors had long since scampered off with their co-stars, but the tech crew remained behind, shutting down the A/V systems and ensuring that the lights were off before they too made their way out for a group dinner.
Tristan had been apprehensive about joining the crew at first, but he was glad that he did. Working the sound and light board made him feel like the captain of a spaceship, and it was a fun challenge to make sure that he and the team hit all the cues that they needed to in order to bring the production to life. The best part however was that he had made friends. Starting at a new school halfway through your high school career was never easy, but his new pals were making it bearable.
The tech team had gathered outside near the parking lot and were deciding on where to eat, as if they wouldn’t just hit up the same old 1950’s-style diner that they always did. Perhaps tonight would be the night they went somewhere else, but Tristan highly doubted that. They were all dining on a high schooler’s budget after all, which was never much. Plus, those burgers couldn’t be beat. There was just something about that greasy mess that felt fitting for late nights after practices and performances.
A gentle breeze blew through his hair and caused tiny goosebumps to prickle on his arms. Dang it, he had forgotten his hoodie inside. While his friends continued their decision-making process, Tristan excused himself and told them to go on without him and that he’d catch up.
He dashed back into the building and slipped into the auditorium, then peeked into the sound booth for his lost sweater. Nothing there. He scanned the seats, wondering if he had left it on a seatback. Nope. It wasn’t on the stage, either. Where had he…?
Ah, right. One of the leads was having a problem with her mic pack, and he had gone backstage to help fix the problem. He must’ve left his hoodie in the dressing room.
There was a light on when he made his way into the wings. Strange… he thought they had turned them all off when they left. It was coming from the very dressing room that he meant to check out anyway. A lucky break. Tristan rounded the corner and nearly jumped a foot in the air at what he saw; Someone was in there. Darius Astor.
“JESUS!” Tristan exclaimed, placing a hand over his pounding heart. He thought that everyone had gone home for the night and that he was alone.
Darius looked up from what he was occupied with – packing up a personal makeup bag. He was mainly responsible for painting the sets, but he had other passions and hobbies, including creating elaborate makeup looks for both himself and the cast. That service was pretty much the only reason that anyone ever spoke to him.
His dark eyes were lined with black eyeliner, and smokey eyeshadow complimented the rest of his look: black, black, black. He was spooky in his goth attire, enough to make anyone believe that vampires were real and that he walked among them. That thought was especially convincing on the days that Darius had his face painted a ghostly pale. Tonight was one of the nights that he wore such a look, freaking Tristan out even more.
Darius gave the blonde a once over and noted his frightened reaction, but didnʻt comment on it, almost as if he was used to having that effect on people. He turned back to packing up his supplies.
“That must be yours.” he remarked, then nodded at the hoodie laying in a crumpled heap on one of the chairs by the door.
Tristan tried to get a grip on himself and come down from his fright.
“Ah, yeah. Uh… thanks. Sorry, I just— I didnʻt know anyone was back here. You scared—you surprised me.”
“Scared” didnʻt feel like a nice thing to say, especially when Darius looked back up at him with such a dour expression.
“Hm.” he responded disinterestedly.
Tristan stood in the doorway, stupidly frozen like he had forgotten how to move. He was struck by Darius, but he didnʻt know why. Something about him was just fascinating. He had never looked at him long enough to really see him.
Darius frowned at Tristan’s staring.
“What?” he bit. “Is it yours, or not?”
“Yeah.” Tristan said quickly. How embarrassing to be snapped out of a stupor like that. He finally came back to his senses enough to scoop up the hoodie and slip it on, then turned to leave. Out of habit he reached up to flip off the light switch but caught himself. His hand hovered over the toggle as he paused in the doorframe.
“Why are you here?” he questioned, glancing back at Darius. “Everyone’s gone out to dinner. Didnʻt you want to come?”
Darius exhaled through his nostrils and zipped up his pouch.
“Wasnʻt invited.” he said.
“Oh.”
“It’s okay.”
Was it though? Tristan spoke before he thought. “Do you want to join us? We’re going to Mel’s.”
Darius hefted his messenger bag and tucked his makeup case inside. He looked mildly irritated, briefly pressing his lips together into a tight line before he answered.
“You don’t want me there.”
“Sure I do.” Tristan replied.
No, he didn’t. Darius was right. But it felt wrong to leave someone behind, even if it was the very guy that he’d been warned about.
Darius was silent as he approached Tristan. The heavy platform boots that he wore had him standing just a pinch above eye level, and the way his poofy black hair was styled made him seem even taller and more imposing, especially given his overall appearance. He stopped before Tristan and peered down his nose at him. Truly, he was intimidating…
Darius squinted, as if trying to read Tristan’s aura to figure out his intentions.
“Do you really?” he asked.
They were standing too close together, and the scrutiny was making Tristan uncomfortable. He shifted his weight and took a nervous step back, breaking eye contact so he could glance elsewhere.
“Yeah.” he squeaked. “You’re part of the team, right?”
Darius considered him for a second longer, then huffed at the proposition.
“Fine.”
Oh, fucking hell. Tristan secretly hoped that he would say no. His friends were going to think he had lost his marbles for inviting him. Hopefully Darius was chill, though so far, he seemed just as off-putting and frigid as everyone had said.
“Great.” Tristan said, making a conscious effort to not sound sarcastic. He flicked off the light as Darius pushed past him out the door.
***
They did it. Those losers actually did it. For the first time, the theatre tech crew had decided to go somewhere else to eat. Tristan didn’t discover that until he and Darius had gotten inside the diner. Of course it would be tonight. Of freaking course.
“Hold on, I don’t see them. Ahh…” Tristan’s fingers furiously flew across his phone screen as he texted the group chat to figure out where everyone had gone instead. Incredible. Fantastic. They finally changed pace on the night he decided to bring the weird kid along.
Darius stood behind him with his arms crossed as he stared at the silver diner walls.
“I should go.” he said.
“N-no, it’s cool. They just—” Tristan stopped and read the text that had just come in. His friends were at the pizza joint across town. Ugh, by the time they got there everyone would be finished eating. That would make it all the more awkward to have this raincloud of a plus one with them.
“Oh, it looks like they changed their minds and went home instead.” Tristan lied.
With a sigh, Darius’ shoulders sank, almost as if he had expected this outcome. He cocked his head to the side and shot Tristan an incredulous look. Maybe something like this had happened to him before.
“Uh huh…” It was clear that he didn’t believe him.
Good God. Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, taking a moment to think. Fine. Just one meal with this guy. It couldn’t be that bad. He had invited him after all. It was probably better this way. He’d have a tale for his friends on Monday without having to subject them to whatever was coming.
“You wanna eat?” Tristan asked without turning around.
“What, just you and me?”
“Yeah. We’re here, so…”
“Okay. Sure.”
They were seated at a booth in the back corner, just the two of them sitting across from each other like a bizarre date. They’d make an odd couple – the spooky morose fellow and the gangly blonde computer nerd. Hopefully people weren’t staring at them.
Tristan had been to this place dozens of times before and didn’t have to look at the menu to know what he wanted, but it took Darius a bit of time to decide. When their orders had been placed, they sat in silence.
Darius took a sudden interest in anything and everything on the table within arm’s reach, taking extra care to study the apparently captivating shapes of the unremarkable salt and pepper shakers, reading every kind of sugar packet, and idly wiping down the greasy ketchup bottle.
“So,” Tristan started. “you paint sets?”
Darius ran his fingers across the sealed top of the creamer in his hand, his painted black fingernail polish popping against the all-white container.
“Mmhm.”
There was a long pause before Darius realized that he should probably fill it with a response.
“You do audio stuff?”
“Yup. And lighting.”
Darius nodded lightly, though his gaze was on the Formica table’s hypnotic boomerang pattern. He kept staring at it like he hoped to unravel a hidden message about the universe buried somewhere within the repeating retro design.
It was killing Tristan that he didn’t know what to say to the guy. How do you start a conversation with someone so strange? He couldn’t just jump in and ask ‘So, why don’t you get along with anyone?’. That would be horrible.
“Have you lived in town long?” Tristan asked, straightening out his silverware.
“My whole life.”
“Ah, Cool.”
Was Darius ever going to get beyond simple answers? He asked no follow up questions or had any deeper conversation. No wonder people had trouble befriending him.
“Have you eaten here before?” Tristan tried to keep the conversation going, though playing ’20 questions’ was getting old quickly.
“A time or two. Don’t remember it much though.”
“The burger I ordered is really good.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You can try some if you’d like.”
“Thanks.”
Tristan’s eyes widened in exasperation, and he had to turn away so Darius wouldn’t see. This was impossible. Maybe he should just be content with them eating without speaking. Perhaps that’d be better than pulling teeth just to get Darius to talk to him.
He was saved from coming up with another attempt at conversation by the food arriving.
Tristan chewed his burger thoughtfully, all the while feeling Darius’ uncomfortable gaze burning into him. It was awkward, like the other boy was judging every bite he took.
“So, what, did you lose a bet or something?” Darius finally asked, picking at the basket of cheese fries he had ordered.
Tristan coughed to avoid choking. “Beg your pardon?”
“This.” Darius leaned back against the booth and made a circling motion with his hand, indicating the two of them. “Why did you ask me out to dinner? Is it a dare or something? What do you win?”
Tristan frowned, unsure if Darius was joking. He had to be… right?
“A dare? This isn’t a dare. I didn’t lose a bet. I just thought you might want to come, that’s all.”
Darius looked unconvinced and stared back knowingly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Uh huh…” he muttered.
“Why the hell would I have been dared t— God, has that happened to you before?”
Darius dipped one of his fries into the melty cheese, then took an exaggerated bite. All the while he never broke eye contact with Tristan.
“Yeah.” he stated flatly.
The burger no longer tasted as good as it had a second ago. Tristan put the whole thing down and tried to work out what Darius had just said. He dropped his voice and leaned in a little closer.
“People really take you out to eat on dares?” he asked in disbelief.
Darius gave him a strange look. He crossed his arms defensively and rested them on the table.
“Yeah.” he repeated, as if it was a well-known, obvious fact. “Dinner, school dances, after-school clubs. Most of the time they just want to see if I’ll actually come. If I do, they get their laughs and rewards, and I get ignored for the rest of the time. Or mocked. Or made fun of. That is, if they even show up themselves. Been stood up several times. Not pleasant.”
Tristan suddenly realized why Darius had been so interested in the pattern on the retro table. He found himself also lost in the swirly boomerangs as he tried to avoid looking at the other boy.
“Damn Darius, I’m—I’m so sorry. That’s really shitty.” he said.
With a weary sigh, Darius gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Whatever, it’s fine. I’m used to it.” he plucked another fry and chomped it down. “So again: what’s in it for you? I prefer to just get all the cards on the table as quickly as possible. Makes the pain easier to deal with.”
Shyly, Tristan peered back up at him, meeting Darius’ scrutinizing gaze.
“Nothing.” he squeaked. “Really. Honestly. Nothing.”
But Darius kept his vision trained on him, as if he was trying to crack a difficult puzzle. Tristan sat up a little taller.
“Look, Darius… I— I’m gonna be real with you here, okay?”
Darius rolled his eyes and his shoulders sank again, though whether it was in relief or annoyance, Tristan wasn’t quite sure.
“Ah, yep, here it is.”
“No—” Tristan started. “Look, I didn’t want to invite you here tonight…”
Darius was listening politely, but his expression had soured.
“… But I did, and it wasn’t because of some stupid dare or bet. I just… I felt sorry for you. No one should be left behind alone. That sucks.”
“Hm.” Darius fiddled with his napkin, pulling it taught like he was debating shredding it into little, tiny pieces, but was holding back from doing so.
“Don’t feel sorry for me.” he said. “I’m a loner. No one likes me, but again, I’m used to it.”
“I like you.”
“What?”
Tristan couldn’t look up at him. He felt hot. Why were his ears burning?
“I said I like you.”
Zsst! One small piece of the napkin tore and fluttered down to the table.
“You don’t even know me.” Darius frowned.
“You’re right, I don’t; but everyone deserves a friend. If you wanna talk—”
“Ah, so it’s that.” Darius said bitterly. “More than just dinner, huh? Get to know the freak, get me to trust you, then dump me like all the others have before and use my secrets as cannon fodder.”
Tristan was stunned.
“Who did that to you?!” he gasped. Seriously, why were people so mean to this guy?
Before Darius could reply, the waitress interrupted them, offering to bring the check.
“Will you be splitting?” she asked in a bubbly tone, apparently completely unaware of the more serious topic of conversation between the two of them.
“Y—”
“One check.” Darius spoke up over Tristan.
“I— Huh? Are you sure?” Tristan asked.
“Yes. One check, please. Thank you.” It was the darnedest thing- Darius’ voice had softened, and he flashed the woman a bright and friendly smile, one just as pleasant and kind as any other happy, well-adjusted individual would. Once she left, Darius turned back to Tristan and his face went back to normal – sullen and moody.
“Look— ah, what did you say your name was?”
It occurred to Tristan that he had never even introduced himself. What an idiot! That had to be uncomfortable and awkward as hell for Darius to be dining with a complete stranger.
“I’m Tristan. Tristan Carmichael.”
“Okay Tristan. Well thanks for your concern, but I really don’t need any of your pity, real or fake. It’s okay, I’ll be fine. I don’t need friendship from you or anyone else.”
When the waitress returned, Darius paid the bill for both of them. Tristan attempted to cover his portion, but Darius pushed his money away.
“Forget it.”
“But why would you do that?” Tristan asked timidly.
“You seem like a nice guy. A little naive maybe, but nice. I’m simply returning the favor. It’s nothing.”
As Darius shoved the change into his billfold, a loose piece of paper slipped out and slid across the table, coming to a stop right in front of Tristan. It was a concert ticket stub. He leaned in to read the headliner, and his eyes flashed in recognition.
“Wait, you went to the Hellish Unlikes concert, too?”
Darius froze. “Too?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow. That wasn’t a band that most people around town enjoyed. “You were there as well?”
“Yeah!” Tristan grinned. “… Well, sort of. I really went for the opening band, Corntastrophe.”
Darius wrinkled his nose. “The guys in vegetable costumes?!”
Oh God, his voice had pitched up at the question. Was it in disbelief, or disgust? Tristan quickly made an addendum.
“Uh, y-yeah… but I stayed for the whole show, and Hellish Unlikes was pretty good! I don’t remember many of their songs, but I liked the one that went...” he started humming a tune, though he wasn’t confident in his recreation of it. All the same, Darius perked up for the first time all night.
“Bridge to Wonderland. Hey, good choice. If you liked that one, you’d probably like Silky Sunsets too.”
“Was that the one that went…” Note after clumsy note, Tristan tried to recall that one as well.
“No, that’s Dreamsong Paradise. Silky Sunsets goes like…” much to Tristan’s surprise, Darius began humming and finger drumming on the table.
“Oh, right! I remember that one. It was kind of sad.”
“Sad?” Darius asked. “Did you listen to the lyrics?”
“Well, not the best… it was loud in there.”
“It sounds sad, but it’s more bittersweet. It’s about the sorrow of a good day being over but being happy that you lived it. Watching the sunset is a reminder that another morning will come and that tomorrow’s what you make it. The lead singer wrote it when he— ah…”
Darius cut himself off, then cast his gaze to the floor.
“Never mind. Sorry. You don’t care.”
Tristan adjusted his position to get more comfortable.
“Sure I do. Tell me what I missed. I wanna know.” he legitimately was curious, and not just because that was the most that Darius had said the entire meal.
Darius hesitated, perhaps trying to gather if the permission to continue was loaded with an ulterior motive, but Tristan looked sincere. Cautiously, he returned to speaking about the song’s meaning…
… and just like that, Darius Astor had slipped into a conversation. Incredibly, he seemed to get more relaxed and chatty as he gushed about the band’s discography. Was that a twinkle of passion in his eyes? It was hard to tell behind his swooping black bangs. Tristan tried not to stare, but when he noticed it, he felt as if he had spied a rare bird - one that he was terrified of making the wrong move around and scaring away.
What was weird was that he found that he liked hearing Darius ramble on. It sounded like he had a lot to say, but no one to share his enthusiasm with. Maybe he needed this release. Tristan wasn’t about to deny him that outlet.
Their discussion kept flowing right out to the parking lot. Half an hour passed. When Tristan was sure they had hit the final lull in their conversation, Darius surprised him again.
“So, what about your band, Corntastrophe? What’s their deal?”
Tristan chuckled. “Oh, that’s a whole can of worms.”
“Why do they wear those costumes? Is there a story behind it?”
“Yeah, but it’s a long one.”
“I’ve got nowhere to be…”
Darius didn’t know what he had signed himself up for. He let Tristan show him two of his favorite Corntastrophe songs, then patiently sat through his dump of the band’s lore and antic-filled backstory. There was a lot, including recurring characters that would show up during their concerts and fake battles with bad guys on stage.
Perhaps he wasn’t ready for just how silly and absurd the band was; The more that Tristan told him, the more Darius seemed like he was having trouble holding his serious and cool self together.
“So, it really is a whole world?” Darius asked.
“Oh yeah, it’s way more than just their concerts. They had a fanclub picnic a while back where The Meat Masher attacked and—”
“The Meat Masher?”
“One of their villains. During an announcement, he came out on stage and threw these slimy uncooked hot dogs at the crowd to get everyone riled up…”
“You’re fucking lying.”
“I’m not! The band asked for help defeating him, so the Cornflake Cadets had to blast him with their cardboard pitchforks to—”
“I’m sorry, what? The Cornflake Cadets?”
Oh no, they were really in the weeds, now. Tristan had gotten so wrapped up in his excitement that he had said too much. This was getting way too dorky. He needed to shut up.
“It’s their fanclub.” he clarified quickly, trying to move on, but Darius was hung up on the concept.
“And how does one become a—pbbt…—how does one become a Cornflake Cadet?”
Why was his mouth twitching like that? No way… was he holding back laughter? No flipping way…
Fine. Tristan would further expose himself just to see how Darius reacted.
“Well, if you sign up on the website you get assigned a cadet number…”
“You are one, aren’t you?”
Darius had clocked him. Tristan covered his face with his hand, hiding bashfully behind it for a second. With a small nod he acquiesced, pulling out his wallet, opening it up, and retrieving a membership card. He flashed it at Darius long enough for him to see the image adorning the front: an ID-style photo of him beaming ear-to-ear. He was dressed in a produce-themed scout uniform, complete with band-related pins, patches, and a bright yellow and green cap printed to look like a corn cob.
Darius stared in disbelief, then burst out laughing. The sound made Tristan’s stomach flutter. So, this was what true humiliation felt like…
…
No… this was something else. Some strange tickling feeling...
Darius was laughing. Laughing at him but laughing all the same. It was a nice sound, even if Tristan was the butt of the joke.
Darius collected himself. “Sorry.” he said. “But holy shit… you’re a nerd nerd.”
Tristan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Yeah…”
The goth shook his head, though a bewildered smile remained on his face.
“You know what, that took guts to own. I respect it. You’re an alright guy, Tristan.”
Tristan sucked in a quiet gasp. Darius had given him his seal of approval? Had that ever happened to anyone else? Like… ever?! Apparently, all it took was a bit of self-deprecation. That, or perhaps Darius thought of him as too hopelessly nerdy to be perceived as a threat. For once, apparently that was an asset. Whatever his reasoning was… Wow.
Tristan tucked the cadet card back into his wallet.
“Okay, well now that you know one of my secrets, I’m trusting you to keep it.” he wasn’t truly embarrassed about his love of Corntastrophe or his loyalty to their fanclub, but it wasn’t exactly something that he wanted to shout from the rooftops. He still had to try to fit in with everyone else at school, after all.
Darius scoffed, though this time it sounded like playful ribbing rather than his typical disdain for the world.
“I’m not gonna tell anyone, Corndet.”
“Cornflake Cadet…”
“I know. Fuck, it’s just so corny…”
A notification on Tristan’s phone stole his attention away.
“Oh my god, when did it get to be so late?” he exclaimed. He thought the night was going to drag on forever, but once Darius had come out of his shell a bit, he had genuinely gotten lost in conversation with him. “I should get home...”
“Guess I should get going, too.” Darius agreed, straightening up. He opened his mouth to say something else but appeared to be second guessing the thought. It wasn’t lost on Tristan, who spent an unneeded extra few seconds fishing around in his pockets for his car keys. Finally, Darius gathered his courage.
“Um… Thanks for tonight.” he spoke quietly, guarded. “It was fun.”
Tristan was internally freaking out, though he refused to show it.
“I’m glad.” he replied, then decided to go out on a limb. “Would you like to do it again sometime?”
Darius’ face fell. He took a deep breath in and released it in a trickling sigh. It took him so long to answer that Tristan began to wonder if he had heard him.
“Yeah…” Darius finally uttered, nearly at a whisper. He bowed his head and would no longer meet Tristan’s gaze.
‘Yeah’? Then why was he—
… Oh. … Oh shit. Tristan realized why he was suddenly acting so closed-off. This was probably the point in the night where their more cruel peers would reveal their true colors to him. Tristan had to let him know he was serious.
“I’ve got nothing going on next Saturday. Wanna hit up the used record store on 9th street that afternoon? Maybe at like 2:00?”
Darius stared hollowly at the ground until the question sank in. When it did, his vision swept back up to Tristan.
“Wait, you really mean it? You want to go to the record store… with me?” there was genuine surprise (and perhaps a hint of cautious optimism) in his tone.
“I mean it. Unless you know someone better to point out which Hellish Unlikes albums are worth buying.”
Dairus appeared dazed. Once again, he assessed Tristan, waiting for any kind of tell, but no smirk or jeer came. Tristan didn’t even flinch. Darius allowed himself to take a breath and his lips pulled into a soft, fragile smile.
“Sure. I’d like that.”
“Alright then, it’s set. I’ll see you there.” Tristan tipped his head to say goodbye. “Have a good night.”
Darius nodded back before heading off. “You too.”
It was quiet in Tristan’s car. Too quiet. He pulled up his music app and was about to turn on his normal driving playlist when his thumb paused and hovered over a recommended band: Hellish Unlikes. After how much Darius had talked them up, it only made sense for Tristan to give them a second chance.
He tapped on Silky Sunsets, the song that Darius had specifically recommended. As the melody flowed from his speakers, Tristan focused in. The instrumentals still sounded sad to him, but the lyrics indeed held a soft, hopeful joy that he had missed before. Darius was right- he did like the song a lot more after really listening to it. That was a pleasant surprise.
… Actually, the whole evening had been a pleasant surprise.
He watched as Darius’ car pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road. The red taillights faded into the night, and in the following silence Tristan was left to sit with an uncomfortable realization: He had been too quick to judge.
The song wasn’t so bad.
No.
Darius wasn’t so bad.
Music could be misunderstood. People could be misunderstood. If someone would just take the time to listen, they’d discover that there was more to both than what was on the surface.
Poor Darius… Had anyone truly given him that chance, or was he nothing more than a novelty to them? Could others honestly not see that there was a person hiding behind his eccentric clothing and style? He had been let down and hurt again and again, yet he still took the risk of going out to dinner with a stranger. Why? In hopes of finally meeting someone who really got him?
Tristan gripped his steering wheel. Maybe it had to be him; if no one else was going to see Darius as anything other than a punchline or the subject of a story, Tristan would. They didn’t have to be best friends, but simply letting Darius know that someone out there cared would make him feel better. He had nothing to prove to anyone; he just wanted to be kind.
His phone pinged again. It was a text message from one of his tech crew friends.
“We missed u tonight! Hope ur dinner was good lol”
Tristan cringed. They had no idea what really happened.
… He had to tell them about eating with Darius, didn’t he? There was no way he couldn’t. Somehow, some way, people would find out regardless. The student body had a freakish knack for discovering things on their own.
His friends wouldn’t be weird about it, would they? He could explain that Darius wasn’t so scary after all, just cautious for his own self-preservation They’d understand that and be nicer to him, right?
… right?
He sighed.
This was going to be interesting…
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HUGE thanks to @risahraun for beta-reading! Boy howdy that ending eluded me for weeks. I REALLY appreciate your input and thoughts as I wrestled with this chapter! <3
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