For the love of God.
“Seriously?!” Asa hissed, yanking his arm out of Hunter’s grasp. “Why do you have to literally yank me back? Call my name if you need to stop me, like a normal person would.”
“I didn’t start it,” Hunter said, ignoring whatever Asa had just said.
“Didn’t start what?” Asa snapped, still annoyed.
“The fight,” Hunter answered matter-of-factly, blinking once. “He was trying to undermine my position as captain because he’s the quaterba—doesn’t matter. What I’m saying is, he threw the first punch. I, uh, I didn’t initiate it.”
Asa stared at Hunter for a few seconds, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder in an attempt to have something to do other than just stand there like an idiot.
“That, uh, that sucks,” he eventually said, uttering each word at a slow pace because the weirdness of this entire conversation was starting to get to his nerves. “Is that why you seemed so pissed? Cause it was your own teammate who took a swing at you?”
Hunter’s eyes hardened, the scowl returning. “No,” he said tersely. “The coach threatened to bench me during the final game of this season if something like that happened again. Can’t have that, not with all those scouts attending.”
Asa frowned, momentarily forgetting his animosity towards the boy in front of him. “But you said the other guy started it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Hunter muttered. “I’m team captain. It’s my job to make sure shit doesn’t hit the fan within our own team.”
“Right.” Asa nodded, looking away again and shuffling on his feet awkwardly. “Right.”
“Yeah.” Hunter narrowed his eyes at Asa slightly. “Just needed to say that I didn’t, you know, start it.”
Asa met Hunter’s blank stare, unsure on how to respond to that, but before he could even decide whether he wanted to offer some sort of response or just walk away, Hunter was already turning around and taking off down the hallway.
“Hey,” a familiar voice said from behind Asa a few seconds before he felt a hand land on his shoulder.
“Hey,” Asa greeted back, tilting his head to the side, and watched as Wyatt stepped into the space beside him.
Wyatt frowned at the retreating figure of Hunter and then turned to face Asa. “You okay?” he asked, glancing at Hunter’s back again with something like worry in his eyes.
Asa’s mouth twitched, before forming a small smile. “Relax,” he said. “He didn’t hurt me.”
Wyatt’s worried frown didn’t fade, and he stepped forward, pressing his index finger into Asa’s jaw and turning his face to the side, examining the other half of Asa’s face for any evidence of a fight.
“Dude.” Asa laughed, shoving Wyatt’s shoulder playfully. “I’m serious. The conversation was pretty civil.”
“Civil?”
“For the most part.”
Wyatt stared at Asa for a while longer before visibly relaxing and slipping back into that easygoing demeanour. “So,” he said in an upbeat tone. “The cafeteria’s in the other direction.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.
“Not hungry,” Asa muttered, the moment of lightheartedness dissipating at the mention of the cafeteria. And just like that, it all came crashing down on him again. One moment of peace was all he wanted. One moment free of reminders. But Asa wasn’t allowed even that.
Wyatt’s eyes narrowed, turning serious again. “You’re not jumping at the chance to spend it with Carmen,” he stated, rather than framing it as a question, the corners of his mouth turning down.
Asa’s chest clenched. “No,” he said, that dark cloud which had been following him around since a week ago now enveloping him as a whole. “No, I’m not.”
Whatever lingered of Wyatt’s usual carefree attitude drained away and he lifted his hand to his forehead, scratching the skin above his right eyebrow as he looked away.
“Um,” he started. “What happened?”
“Look,” Asa hesitated, “you don’t have to. If it makes you uncomfortable—”
“Why?” Wyatt scoffed. “Because I’m a guy, and we don’t talk about feelings?” He slapped the back of Asa’s head lightly.
“No.” Asa snorted. “I was just giving you a way out in case you start regretting it later on.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Let’s hit the rooftop.”
“You do know getting caught could land us in deep shit, right?”
“Asa, if you’re going to pretend like you care about detention, at least do a convincing job of it.”
Asa smiled to himself, but didn’t say anything else as they snuck into the stairwell that led to the roof and found themselves standing on the vast expanse of concrete.
“All right then.” Wyatt sighed, dropping his bag on the dusty ground. “Spill.”
And so Asa did.
•••
It was several minutes later when silence fell among them.
Wyatt pursed his lips, staring into nothingness as he leaned over the railings and folded his arms on top of them, apparently lost deep in thought.
Asa, however, was facing the opposite direction, his back pressed against the metal bars that wrapped around the perimeter of the roof, staring down at his feet that kept tracing nonexistent patterns on the ground.
“You’re quiet,” Asa remarked, unable to take the silence anymore.
Wyatt sighed from next to him, shooting him a sideways glance. He opened his mouth, as if about to say something to Asa, but then closed it—only to open it once more and shut it again.
“Do you know what I think?” he finally asked, averting his eyes back towards the view of the parking lot and neighbouring streets and buildings that being on the rooftop provided.
“What?” Asa asked, his right foot drawing horizontal lines in the dirt now.
“That I will never understand
