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polyhexian · 2 years ago

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Functioning labels aren't even limited to autism or the things people traditionally associate them with... It literally means your ability to function. Are you able to take care of yourself. Are you able to function at a state of a reasonable quality of life without significant help? I'M low functioning. Me! Me, I have been given in writing a statement I am low functioning depressed. Or at least at the time I was, I might be doing a little better now. But maybe not. Literally it is "I am not able to function at a level comparable to my peers, my level of ability to function like my peers is very low and I need a lot of assistance to keep up and stay safe and healthy and happy and maintain a good quality of life." That's what it means.

My uncle told me this story when I was younger that I've never been able to forget. It lodged itself in my brain like a brand and I've never shaken it. I love my uncle, he is a good man, but he's had so much trauma in his life and he's made so many poor decisions... But he's never been anything but loving and kind to me and I love him so much. And he told me once when we were talking alone about needing help-- because he's been homeless a few times and he was looking at it again, and he didn't want to accept help, or a room in our house, he didn't want to be a burden.

He has some kind of learning disability, though he's never seen a therapist in his life so it remains undiagnosed, but when he was a teenager it was the early 70s, and the word they used was "retarded." Up and until that point he had been in normal classes and sure, he was failing them all the time, but they were normal. But finally in high school they slapped the word retarded on him and moved him to the special needs class. And he tells me this with a distant look in his eye- that that classroom was at the end of a hallway with no other doors, and if you walked down that hallway everyone knew where you were going. Everyone knew something was wrong with you. Everyone knew what you were- "retarded."

He never walked down that hallway. Not once. He dropped out of school freshman year and never graduated.

The stigma of it, the soul crushing misery of having people look at him differently, of not just being lazy or a fuck-up but "retarded" was too much. And how could I ever blame him? He's not a stupid man. Not even now with all the damage he's had, he's bright and quick witted and like me, if you give him a puzzle he will figure it out. Hand him a computer and he'll figure out how to use it. Give him something broken and he will find out how to fix it. He learns by doing, but you can't always just tell him how to do something and have him figure it out. I learn the same way. I flunked out of college twice. That hallway was so frightening to my uncle that decades later, in his fifties, he still refuses to go to a psychiatrist and get labeled again.

My brother cannot take care of himself. He cannot be left alone. He cannot wash himself, feed himself, dress himself. I've spent a significant amount of time with his classmates as you may imagine. I've spent time with a great many children and young adults who can move nothing but their eyes, who cannot form new memories, who communicate only in wails and grunts, and the reality is that these people need completely different kinds of assistance than high functioning people. They need medical help, constant supervision for safety, they need entirely different forms of entertainment and ways to engage with others. Do you know how much a wheelchair costs? A tablet that helps someone speak? A smart board???

When I was little I went to pta meetings. Chronically adultified to the extreme, truly. But when I was in middle school and my brother in elementary school the county decided it would be better to consolidate all the special needs programs at different schools to one school. They were building a new one and this one they'd make super state of the art. The idea, they said, was to create the best program possible and have all the kids go to it.

I thought about that hallway.

So you're just taking all of the low functioning children and quarantining them somewhere away from everyone else? You're going to take them from their local schools where they may have friends and send them somewhere twenty miles away?

They told us they had three levels of programs, the highest being "severe and profound." My brother was severe and profound. My mother stood up at the PTA meeting and asked, what is the severe and profound track going to offer? What are you going to teach my son?

The school district representative looked her dead in the eye and said "you know, how to eat and breathe and stuff."

You're going to teach my seven year old brother to eat and breathe and stuff? Thanks. How generous.

They went through with it anyway. Built the fancy new three million dollar school. Put ten thousand dollar smart boards in the room and all kinds of fancy equipment. Three days before school opened they ran a fire drill and realized they had fucking stupidly put this room on the second floor, so evacuating students if there was a fire meant they would need to put students in wheelchairs on cots with two teachers to each child carrying them down the stairs. Not safe. Not feasible.

They gave the room with the smart boards to a regular third grade class and moved the special needs kids downstairs into what had been a phys Ed room. We ended up suing that school once for discrimination and two more times threatening to sue and settling out of court.

This world beats it into you that it is BAD to need more help than anyone else. It is shameful and revolting and people want more than anything to shove ugly disability out of sight and out of mind. We don't want to think about it. We don't want to deal with it. Inconvenient. Put them in a classroom down the hall so the other kids don't have to see them.

You should have just gotten help. It should have been easy. What do you need to improve your functioning level and quality of life? And then be given that. But that's not what they want. They want to make sure you are forced to do anything you can to get out of that hallway and be as normal as possible. Be something they can stand looking at and pretend doesn't exist.

Disability activism online talks a big game. But who cares about my families multiple discrimination lawsuits? About the abuse and suffering every authority has put us through for daring to bring my brother in public? The stigma of hallways?

It's all too ugly. Inconvenient. I've had high functioning people give him the same looks people who aren't disabled at all have. I've seen the discomfort in people's eyes when they say they don't want to be labeled as autistic because it means people will think they're like HIM. A terrible thing to be thought of as. The bitterness that has built in me is beyond anything I have the words to vocalize. I get angry. I get mean. I feel full of venom and bile and fire. I want to stand on the table in front of apathetic social workers and scream at them fuck you! Fuck you fuck you fuck you, help me! Give him something! Help me take care of my little brother or let me kick you to death to get out my fucking frustration!! Fuck you!

Actually fuck it it's 1am and I'm ready to- well, not trauma dump, but I'm gonna be mad about shit that's not polite to talk about in public or whatever. Hi everyone welcome to my transformers shit post blog

Anyway. So most people are not aware I have siblings because I never talk about them and that's because I haven't willingly spoken to my sister in seven years because she's an abusive narcissist and out of her fucking mind violent. But that's not important I bitch about her lying about having fuckin lupus despite the fact it's already killed enough of our family as it is. My brother I talk about even less and you know why??? There's literally no way to talk about him with modern social politics without pissing someone off. My brother is six years younger than me, low functioning down's syndrome/autistic. He's 23 now, nonverbal. I changed diapers until I moved out of my parents house at 17. 24/7 supervision, radio ankle monitor for safety, blablabla. He's visibly disabled. You look at him and immediately know he's disabled so like. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of places I've been kicked out of with him

Every time I see people get into fucking identity politics about like "low/high functioning" hurting their feelings it makes my lip curl, and I know I'm irrationally mad about it but like. What else am I supposed to be? Chill? Did you know "disability" is only for people who weren't born disabled? You only get disability if you're able to work and lose that ability. If you were born disabled? Go fuck yourself. There's programs and whatever but they all fucking suck donkey shit. My family didn't get a cent from the government to help take care of a severely disabled child until he was fucking nine. My brother is deaf AND blind. Like. Come on.

And finally when we did it's still like. Fucking nothing. At one point it was like... I dunno, 600 a month plus some shit like boxes of useless bargain bin diapers? Most importantly we got a certain amount of hours from like a medical care facility. Like, special babysitters, essentially. Fifteen hours a week maybe. Like great thanks that's super helpful. I was scrubbing shit off the walls when I was twelve. Thanks for the fucking help. My brother is difficult and strong and can be occasionally violent when he doesn't get his way. We went through every goddamn care worker in town. I remember at 15, after my dad left, my mom was like. Too depressed to do shit and so it fell to me, terminally adultified child. And because my brother is so difficult the hourly pay for working with him was higher than other clients, so their workers were always super interested in working with him. But I'd answer the door and I'm a tired angry fifteen year old and I know they're going to know the second they look at him why he pays so well and that it's still not worth it to them. So I used to open the door and say hi, my parents aren't coming to meet you, I'm in charge and I know how to forge my mom's signature. I'm tired and I don't want to waste my time with a bullshit interview. Come in, meet him, and if you decide this isn't going to work within like five minutes, that's great, fine, I get it, whatever. I'll sign off on your sheet that you were here for the full hour, so you can just go home and get paid for coming and I don't have to play grown up pretend bullshit for an hour of my time. My mom HATED that I did this but like nine times out of ten they left after fifteen minutes. They weren't worth my fucking time.

Eventually we did legitimately. Straight up run out of people willing to work with him. The company didn't send us anyone new because there wasn't anyone and because we didn't use the fifteen hours a week we got for two weeks in a row the government cancelled his entire benefit system and put him back on the waiting list. The one he was on for nine years, remember? We had to sue them over it to try and keep from losing the little they gave us and the company was so fucking butthurt about it that they called cps on us. Childish bullshit.

I've been kicked out of restaurants and movie theatres and stores and fuckin. Roller rinks or arcades or whatever kinds of places exist because he's disabled and scary and a lot of work and loud and messy and people don't want him around. It makes me bitter and angry and venomous. You wouldn't even recognize me around him. I know I can be a bitch on the internet sometimes but irl I'm soft and timid a lot of the time. I don't like talking to strangers. But you drop me in a room with my brother and I turn into a snarling fucking animal and the second I sense disgust I'm going to make a fucking scene. I've yelled at people in restaurants. What the fuck are you staring at?? I'm so sorry, is my brother enjoying his meal disturbing you? Good thing I don't give a shit. I'll embarrass myself and everyone else in the room without giving a single shit. One time I literally stormed on stage during a high schools talent show for disabled students to scream at a teacher backstage. No subtlety. No politeness. I stood up and I climbed up on the stage and stormed through the curtain. I can't fucking control myself. The anger has built up over the decades and it spills out. How fucking dare you.

And what am I supposed to do with that? That's not inspirational. It's not polite. It's not a nice story. It's "I love my brother but he's incredibly difficult and the government and society as a whole has gone so far out of their way to make keeping him safe and happy extraordinarily difficult that I'm always ready to get in a fight over it with anyone who gives me an excuse." People don't like stories like that. I don't want custody of him when my parents die and every single qualified care facility and group home in the state has refused him because he's categorized as "dangerous" because he can be physically difficult. So he just gets completely abandoned by the world who says wow that sucks but tough shit. Maybe just die about it?

I literally can't post photos of me with my brother without people thinking I'm fucking like baiting or whatever the fuck, like, white knighting my disabled brother for sympathy. As if I'm not just memeing with my family or some shit. And then I can't complain or I'm an ableist. It's easier if I just shut up and don't talk about it, isn't it?

Internet disability politics doesn't and has never given a single rancid shit about low functioning disabled people. The absolute zero sum most at risk people in society. What am I supposed to do when my parents die? I literally cannot take care of him physically or financially and he can't leave the state without losing benefits. I don't live there anymore. I have to uproot everything and go home? Or what, turn him over to the state so he can deal with the, what, 65% chance of sexual abuse that happens to nonverbal low functioning disabled people? Be fed dog kibble and left to rot in a piss stained mattress for days? I've seen these places. He can't talk so they can do anything they want to him. No one is going to stick up for him. No one cares.

It boils my fucking blood just to think about. I don't want to hear any woke ass takes about functioning labels from someone on Twitter if they've never materially contributed to the well being of a low functioning disabled person in their fucking life. Those terms aren't for you asshole, they're for them, because they need more help and protection. Tired of trying to keep up with the politics and labels placed upon my family member by people with no stake in the suffering at the end of the stick they're poking him with. It's all so easy in theoreticals but what if "what happens to my brother if my parents die" is a question that's loomed over your head for a decade without an answer? I'll listen to your thoughts on the matter when you Paypal me ten dollars so I can send him some more scarves to stim with.

People hate messy uninspiring stories so they would rather you just shut up and stop reminding them about it. Literally I think if I still lived down there and one more restaurant manager asked me to leave I would fucking stab them

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arinbelle · 3 years ago

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A Court of Witches and Warriors

A/N: Hello!!! I know it has been so so long since I updated this fic and for anyone who is still reading it, sincere apologies. I got a bit backtracked with school and then starting other fics. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

TW: depressive thoughts, language, self harm thoughts

Chapter 19: Nesta

~*~

Nesta had never thought of the mating bond in her life, more than she was doing in this moment.

She had gone her entire life as a Fae ignoring it. Ignoring the pull in her chest each time a tall General had walked by her in the House of Wind. Ignoring the heat of his glances and all that it caused to spark in her heart. So much thought and effort being put into ignoring that unbreakable thread between them, all for it to come down to this moment, when it was all in vain. It had to be the Mother's cruel sense of humor that all she wished now was to feel it again. Feel the resounding boom of his heartbeat echo under her own if she concentrated hard enough.

Nesta could not feel him anymore. The bond had gone eerily silent. No matter how much she fumbled and pulled and tugged on it, no matter how much she cried out his name and sobbed, it did not respond. She had no idea how long it had been since they'd been flown away from the forest, away from the still hissing, charred carcass that she'd killed for Cassian. She'd tried to spectrate them both straight away, but she'd felt the stores of her power begin to empty when she'd attacked the martax atop Cassian. By the time she'd killed it, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself, she'd known she wouldn't be using her magic for some time. So she'd suffered the flight back to Windhaven, thoroughly convinced that they were going too slowly if Cassian was supposed to survive.

Nesta had no concept of the time as she was passed from one person to another when they arrived. First it was Taliq, who stayed with her after that first flight back to Windhaven. She'd stayed silent and stiff beside him as shock and blatant disbelief had coursed trough her, and she'd replayed the events that had just transpired over and over. Taliq had hung one arm around her limply, as if he didn't trust her not to fall into herself, but also didn't know if touching her would cause her to react badly. Cilla had come in afterwards, switching out with Taliq to sit with Nesta as they waited for the healers to help Cassian. Cilla had taken one look at Nesta and that was all that she had needed to shatter the lid she'd kept on her control. She'd broken down into great heaving sobs in a way that she hadn't let herself do even for her father.

They'd constricted her chest on their way out, and she'd gasped for air with each lungful she'd taken, only to scream it out with all the rage and pain she was feeling too much of. On and on she'd sobbed on Cilla's shoulder, and through it all, her friend had remained steadfast and unwavering. When a healer had come out to tell the girls to leave, Cilla had fixed her with a stare fit for a criminal while Nesta had hiccupped raggedly beside her. And that had been that. Emerie had come in soon after, warding off any other busybodies and bothering warriors with a glare that even Nesta thought twice about disregarding.

It wasn't long before Rhysand had appeared, stricken and pale, in a way that she hadn't seen the High Lord, save for the time on the battlefield when Cassian had taken a sword to his front. When Azriel had held the torn muscle and guts that were hanging out, blood scattering on his leathers and the ground as they'd dragged him to a healer's tent, Nesta had watched transfixed with horror. Even then, just as it was now, there was nothing she could do. Nesta had caught bits and pieces of traveling conversations, figuring out that while the healers here were trying their best, the range of injuries Cassian had would not be fully healed in Windhaven. He needed to be treated by Majda in Velaris if he wanted to wake up again, hence Rhysand's appearance.

Nesta did not speak to Rhysand when he returned to winnow her to Velaris, after dropping off Cassian first. Emerie and Cilla had stood when he'd approached, helping her to stand and putting her cold, clammy hand into his strong grip. Had Nesta not been reeling and in fear of what may happen to Cassian, she never would have agreed to go back to the city that had done her so horribly wrong- the city that she'd done so horribly wrong in.

Back to the city her sister had thrown her out of.

But this was not a matter worth thinking through. Where Cassian was, Nesta would go.

Emerie and Cilla accompanied her through the brutal winnow that she'd never quite gotten used to. They sat with her in the large hall of the new house that Rhysand had bought for her sister. No one came to see her as she sat and waited for news. Not Feyre. Not Elain. Not Azriel. And most definitely not Amren.

They sat in tomblike silence as Nesta stared out of the large window to her left. Baby blue in the sky seeped into the greens of the land below it and with time, blue faded to pink. Pink faded to red and soon a sunset took over the horizon. Nesta watched it drift down slowly until the sky became a vibrant hue of purple, faintly hinting at clandestine stars glittering and poking through to be seen.

Night bled to day and day bled to afternoon and all through it, Nesta sat and watched listlessly out the window, unsure of what to do with herself. News finally came from Azriel unexpectedly, not soon after Emerie had softly urged Nesta to eat and rest a little, both of which she'd refused.

Nesta nearly fell over rising to meet Azriel halfway and the Shadowsinger had to reach out to steady her or else they definitely would have collided. She didn't care.

"How is he?," she pleaded. Her voice was rough and cracking through its sounds but she didn't care about that either. Nothing mattered except Cassian and his life and the fact that she had no idea if he would survive.

Azriel's face answered her question before he did. A grim, tight expression haunted his usually stoic features and Nesta was seized with a sudden uncontrollable urge to wail and weep all over again. She'd reigned in the tears since coming to the palace in Velaris, convincing herself that she'd cried herself out while waiting in the healers' tent in Windhaven. But all that ceased to matter as Azriel opened his mouth and uttered the damning words she'd been so fearful to hear.

"It's bad. Really bad. You'd better come."

Cilla and Emerie had not followed suit, leaving her to be led along the darkening corridor by Azriel, whose shadows licked and leapt back and forth against his skin and the air around. One of them coiled around her hand as a mother would to a child and pulled her softly but swiftly behind. Nesta did not resist them.

The room felt like ice had been scattered through the air, invisible and cutting through her skin with every further step she took inwards. So cold that she could see her breath puff out in a cloud in front of her. She turned to Azriel behind her, ignoring her sisters and everyone else in the room that she didn't care to acknowledge.

Her voice was bordering on shrieking as panic overtook her. "Why is it so cold? He needs warmth. He's been hurt. Why did-"

Majda stopped her with a cluck of her tongue. "It's the fever, child." Nesta stared stupefied as the old Fae walked away from the bed, where she could see a pair of wings peaking out from some sheets over the top of some bodily form. She stopped in front of her, and craned up to look at Nesta, rueful contemplation of her face. "He was bitten by the martax and I believe the venom has spread to most of his body. He may or may not survive it. We just have to wait and see." Then, before Nesta could start unleashing her rage on the innocent healer, the crone muttered an apology and left the room.

Nesta did not move right away and no one prompted her to either. But slowly, her limbs thawed, her stiff joints cracked when moved, and she crept closer to the bed. Satin sheets adorned the bed and stupidly enough, they were black as Death. Nesta thought that to be a horrible decision on the part of whoever had chosen this particular bed to deposit Cassian into, especially when they'd brought him here to be healed. Either that or it was an omniscient omen signaling to a grim end.

Cassian's brow had sweat beaded up along its curve, and Nesta soothed her fingers across, wiping it away. She had never seen his face so devoid of color. Of warmth. It was so unlike him she felt as if she were staring at a puppet. A crude imitation that had been propped up for show to keep her from becoming a hysterical mess. Because the alternative...that this was Cassian, her Cassian, was a vengeful nightmare.

It was a nightmare to lay her hand across his cheek and to not have him turn into the curve of her palm and kiss it fondly. A nightmare to see his parched lips and pallid skin and not have someone leap out and reassure her that it was all actually a bad joke. Cassian would just open his eyes, hazel would mix with the Faelights above and turn to amber, and he would flash her his beautiful smile that made everything in the world seem alright.

It seemed to be eons until someone came up behind Nesta and asked to take her out. Usher her away from him for something as trivial as food and sleep. She wanted to fight. She would fight, but something in their tone seemed just as pleading as hers had been when she'd asked Azriel about Cassian's status. It forced her to shuffle backwards and take the hand that wound through her own, pulling her out of the room like the ghost of a lover she'd never had the proper chance to be for him.

The hand finally let her go when she ended up in a bathing room of some kind. Pushed her to the side while whoever it was attached to bustled around her, turning on gushing waters that flooded into a too large basin beside her.

Somewhere in her grief clouded mind, Nesta registered that it was Feyre. Feyre her sister. Feyre who had been through hell and back for her. For her people. Who would easily do it all again if she had to. At the time, Nesta hadn't understood it, so blinded by her rage at her father's cowardice. But she could see it now. That yearning to love and be loved. The internal push that came in when needed.

Nesta would do anything, anything, to switch places with Cassian. Hell, she would easily accept Death's icy embrace right that moment if it meant Cassian would not have to.

It should have bothered her to be treated like a child, undressed like one and led into a tub completely naked as a grown woman, with her adult sister helping her in. But it did not.

Nesta let her sister wet her hair with the warm water and pour all sorts of sweet smelling concoctions into it. She let her wash her back and her arms and legs like a limpid, useless doll. It was only when all that was left was the space between her legs and under her breasts that Nesta took the washcloth and Feyre left her be. Her sister hurried out of the room and began doing something in the adjoining room while Nesta quickly finished washing up.

One part of her, a deep, dark part of her wanted to stay in the bathwater that was up to her neck, and just let herself fall under it. If Cassian didn't make it, there was really no alternative she saw herself living through anyways. But then, Feyre called out to her, telling her the towels were behind her and to hurry out of the water unless she wanted to get sick.

So she did as she was told by her youngest sister's mothering, drying herself methodically and then donning the spare nightgown that had been left for her on a chaise nearby.

Feyre was waiting expectantly for her on the bed. Not smiling but...not scowling either. There was a calmness to her, one that Nesta rarely remembered ever seeing when in Nesta's presence.

Feyre combed Nesta’s hair with an ease that she hadn’t attributed to her youngest sister before. After all, it had been Nesta that used to do their hair for them. Readying them for the day after their mother had died and all the nursemaids had been let go to keep some of the wealth intact. Not that Nesta or her sisters had been told about that truth- not until it was far too late to save themselves.

“Sleep right after, alright?” Feyre began combing through her wet hair. Then braiding it, keeping the plait loose at the base of her head and moving the strands carefully over each other.

Nesta did not say anything at first. She didn’t trust her voice to not betray her and subvert words for cries instead. She didn’t think she could handle the shame.

It had been one thing for her to let loose that first spell of tears with Cilla and Emerie. They had seen her at her very lowest, her absolute worst, and still they had kept her. Treasured her as a friend and never held her earlier lack of friendliness against her.

To lose her control in front of Feyre would be both damning and upsetting. The cruel sister who had not shed one tear when her youngest sibling had been practically stolen away by a Fae beast, only to be reduced to a weeping mess for a male she hadn’t even known as long.

At least, that was how Feyre would see it, she was sure.

Movement from behind her shook Nesta out of her thoughts, and Feyre slipped off of the canopy bed with ease. Nesta had realized that the room was meant to be hers in this new palace Feyre had created a home of a year ago. It was surprisingly filled with light colors that she knew would look wonderful in the daylight. So, at odds with the theme of Night Court black and all things dark that the inner circle and her sister usually seemed to sport. Nesta found that in another life, in another Nesta, she would have loved it.

“Do you like it? I made it just how your room used to be back when we were children.”

Yes. That was the small detail that Nesta hadn’t been able to quite pinpoint. It was the same colors, the same satiny type sheets overlaid on a lovely blanket that was the same color of pomegranates. Nesta had been obsessed with the color as a young girl although as she’d gotten older, her mother had forced her to care for darker more toned-down colors. Only Elain had remained virtuous and loyal to her various shades of pinks and lilacs, always suited to her fairer complexion and rosy cheeks.

“I like it,” she finally admitted, trying to please Feyre for all the hard work she’d put into a room that had barely been used. It was hardly the compliment she deserved, but Nesta didn’t want to talk about the rooms or the paint or how there was a growing fissure between the two of them since she’d been kicked out of this city. The only thing, the only person on her mind was Cassian, and there was no way she could bring him up without losing herself.

Feyre nodded tightly and made to turn around, leaving her to sleep, even though Nesta had no intention of sleeping this night either. Something jolted Feyre though, and she turned back to look at her. Nesta went still.

“If you like it enough, you can stay here now. If you don’t want to go back to the House of Wind that is.” Feyre shot her a small smile but it seemed forced. As if she was afraid of what Nesta would say.

But Nesta didn’t know what to say, since she hadn’t expected Feyre to want anything to do with her.

“You mean, live in Velaris again?”

Feyre nodded mutely, a short but effective movement. She meant what she had said. In any other circumstance, a part of Nesta would have rejoiced at the fact that in the end, her sister did want her in her life after all.

"It's your home. Or, it could be," Feyre supplied eagerly. "It won't be like before Nesta. You, we...I will not fail you again. It will be different this time." Feyre had joined her back on the bed, hanging off the side, awaiting a response. When Nesta still did not speak, she added resolutely, "I want you to come home."

Nesta couldn't stomach it anymore.

"This is not my home Feyre." She tried to keep her voice soft even as the blow landed on Feyre and her face fell. She tried again. "No, I mean...I appreciate what you're saying. I do. And if things were different, I would want to try living here again. But this city, your city, is not mine. I don't think it was ever meant to be, but now I know more than ever that it isn't."

Feyre's eyes began to well up with tears and before Nesta could try to soothe her, Feyre spoke in a hushed tone. "I never meant for you to feel unwelcome here. I thought that the time away from Velaris and up in the mountains would do you good. I didn't mean for you to feel that you do not have a place here." Feyre reached out to grasp one of Nesta's hands and the heat and the comfort coming from it had Nesta allowing it. She repeated her words again."You have a home-"

"This is not my home," Nesta interrupted coldly. "My home..."

Nesta's throat closed up and a well of emotion burst forth, and even with clenched teeth and a brutal iron will, it did not stop the sobs that began pouring out of her.

"My home is lying unconscious in a sick bed while we sit and wait for him to die. And there is nothing to do about it. I can't do any-any..." Nesta could not finish her sentence. Not as deep, burdening cries wracked her frame and she could barely catch a breath in between. But she had to get this out. Get it off of her chest before it ruined her from within.

"I can't think about it. What I'm going to do if I lose him. What do I do, Feyre? I have nothing left then." Feyre placed a trembling hand hand on Nesta's knee, shock and anguish permeating her face. But she did not stop Nesta's tears nor her confessions. After all, who else had stayed around to listen to either besides her.

Maybe it was hours later or maybe only a few minutes had passed by, but eventually, just as before, Nesta did not have the strength left to continue on crying.

"There was so much I wanted to tell him. So much I wanted...to experience with him. And now-" Her voice broke and Nesta forced herself to stop talking as exhaustion took over the sorrow.

Feyre had soothed her with soft strokes on her hair, her back. But it was foreign and uneasy for her, just as it was strange for Nesta to experience it. They had never been the sort to be affectionate with each other. Even now, Nesta knew that Feyre only showed that much adoration to her mate, reserving physical comfort for rarer occasions. It was unlike either of them considering they'd been raised in an opulent home with everything a person could want for except heart and warmth.

Cassian was the complete opposite, showering on his love to any who would take it, like a monsoon onto a barren desert. He did not care who deserved what or if he was given it back. Cassian just gave wholeheartedly.

Feyre sniffled and hastily wiped away a few silently shed tears. "I understand you know. I know you think we are so different, but I know how you feel. I..." Feyre tightened her hands to fists in her lap. "When Rhys died, when...I lost him, even though it was a matter of minutes long, I think I felt my soul splinter in half. I had lost one of my best friends, someone who I thought I would have lifetimes with. All in a split second, everything had gone wrong." Feyre looked up, the pain of the memory still etched on her face. Nesta had not been there for Rhys's death and eventual resurrection, but had heard about it later from Amren. Then a few jokes from Rhysand himself that Feyre had glared at during the few dinners she'd had with the rest of them. And even from Cassian himself in passing.

But never had Feyre spoken to her of that moment, when she'd lost Rhysand and, from what Nesta had been told, had screamed and shrieked with so much misery, no one had been able to do anything but stare on in horror.

"So, I understand," Feyre supplied again.

"You do not," Nesta whispered. "He was your mate. It is different."

"And Cassian is not yours?," Feyre remarked sharply.

Nesta locked eyes with her sister, prepared for the fight that was inevitably about to come. So Nesta ceded first before it could come to verbal blows.

"I know I'm not good enough for him. You don't need to tell at me about that. And I'm not leading him on either. But he is not my mate."

Feyre breathed in sharply. "I never said that."

"But you thought it," Nesta reminded viciously.

Feyre shook her head. "No. Never. I know you've had your reservations about all this." She gestured vaguely in the air between them and Nesta wondered if she meant being Fae, being here, or everything else. Because for Nesta, she'd been put off by all of it. "But you are allowed a choice with this. Always. Has Cassian brought it up to you?"

Nesta turned her head. The briefest of denials. No, Cassian had never brought up that thread tied between them, blessed by the Cauldron supposedly, and cursed according to Nesta. But it had always been there, teetering between them, always on the edge of being formed fully until one of them pulled back and let it drown back under the surface of their souls.

"He didn't want to pressure you. He told me. I...," Feyre gave a sheepish, apologetic smile. "I may or may not have cornered him about it. I think it was after Solstice and you two had fought."

Right. That night she'd refused his gift and he'd thrown it into the Sidra. She still hadn't plucked up the courage to ask him what it was. Still hadn't given him the present she'd picked out from the Solstice they'd had in Windhaven. She had awkwardly ignored the one he'd placed on her bed a few weeks after. It had lain unopened on the pillow for days, as she'd stared at it while she dressed, never sleeping on the bed since she'd begun to share Cassian's. Eventually she'd finally grown tired of the guilt and shoved it away into a drawer that she hadn't looked into since.

"Anyways, I always wondered, so I just asked him outright. He told me he'd felt the bond between you two, but that he didn't want to scare you away, so he was holding off on bringing it up." Feyre hesitated then, as if she'd realized she'd overshared. "When did you know?"

About the bond, was what remained unspoken.

Nesta swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. From the guilt. "Too long," she confessed. "Why didn't you ask me first instead of Cassian?"

Perhaps Nesta was in the mood to punish herself, because she knew what the answer would be.

Feyre's face went cold. "You never wanted to talk to me after the war."

After Father had died.

"You would have bitten my head off if I tried. And I did try Nesta. You know I did."

She had. Nesta had shut down any comments about Cassian anytime she ran into her sister while she'd stayed in the downtrodden part of Velaris. She had relished in pushing away any thoughts of him, shutting down any rumors or questions anyone had about him, and her, and them. Now she couldn't help but wish it had all gone differently.

"I'm sorry. About Rhys," Feyre added unexpectedly. "He's just..."

Rude. Protective. An asshole.

Feyre shot her a wry grin. "Only sometimes an asshole. He's really sweet deep down."

Nesta glared. "Don't go in my head."

"I didn't," she snapped. "Your thoughts were loud and I had my shields down."

So had Nesta apparently, as she realized the iron wrought chains around her mental fortress had been down the moment from the Cassian had fallen. She hastily rebuilt them as she suspected Feyre was doing the same.

"He was right," Nesta admitted reluctantly. "I did all that he accused me at that dinner. You don't need to apologize for him."

Feyre sighed tiredly. "He was not right to say it, and not like that." Feyre tucked a stray hair behind her ears, so unlike her usual confident and assured self, that Nesta felt a sudden urge to comfort her instead of what was actually happening. "I do not hold it against you Nesta. I did, for a long time, I'll admit. But, we were children. You were a child. I cannot hold you to what you did not do as a child when it was never your responsibility to do so. It was Father's. I can accept that now."

So she had made her peace with the man that had failed them so many times for so long, until the very absolute end, when it had mattered so much that he'd lost his life.

Nesta did not feel the fear or the shame she thought she would have when she admitted to Feyre the truth in her heart. A truth she'd struggled with for a long time. "I was not right to treat you as I did though. My pain and my anger at Father was not an excuse to throw it onto you. For that, I am sorry."

But she would not apologize for not doing her father's job. Never that. Perhaps she would go to Hell for it, but it was all she had of herself in that moment. That stubborn rage that had not failed her yet.

Feyre nodded. "And I am sorry if I made you feel as if you did not have a place in my life. And for not being there for you after the war. The Mother knows I wanted to be but..."

I know. It's alright, she sent the message to Feyre through her mind, hoping Feyre would receive it.

Her smile, small but sure, was answer enough.

Nesta slept sometime in between the space in which Feyre left her, to when she woke her up to eat. It was a bit of stew and some bread, most of which she refused because it would not go down. But for Feyre's sake, the pleading expression in her eyes, she managed to fight and push down some bites. It was enough for her to be left alone. Feyre had told her that Cilla and Emerie had gone home temporarily but that they intended to return for Nesta's sake.

After no news came and Nesta had slept again for what felt like too long, she went down the stairs herself, following the scent she'd memorized at this point of pine and mountain snow, until she was with Cassian again.

Rhysand sat in a chair beside him, haggard and disheveled. It was the longest she'd ever seen the High Lord in anything but immaculate clothes and an unruffled appearance. He did not acknowledge her as she entered and neared the bed where Cassian still lay prone and unconscious.

If Nesta ignored all the horror of the past few days, she could pretend that he was only sleeping, and within a few hours time, would wake up, flash her a grin, and call her all the stupid nicknames that she'd huffed and snorted at.

"Has Majda said anything about how he is doing?"

Will he live? Will he wake up? Is it too late?

Rhysand did not answer her immediately, perhaps thinking it fair that she suffer for a while. Or perhaps he was sparing her news that could break her.

"She said she doesn't know. He was bitten in many areas and she is assuming that it was a female martax that bit him." Nesta stared at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. "Because their venom is more noxious," he revealed after a moment of strained silence. As if that was the perfect explanation for why she could barely hear his heart beating and didn't know if she'd ever look into his beautiful eyes again.

"Isn't she supposed to be the best healer you have?" It shouldn't have come off so critically, but Nesta's patience had always run thin with Rhysand. It didn't help matters when Cassian's life was in the balance.

Rhysand responded exactly as she'd expected. Just as cutting and just as cruel. "Why do you care?," he accused, launching up from his chair, wings flaring outwards in irritation. "You never gave a shit about him anyways. Why are you even here?"

Nesta, to her credit, did not rise to the bait. She only leveled Rhysand with an expression she'd picked up from Delani each time Taliq said something silly and Cilla was ready to be up in arms over it. It was effective.

Rhsyand, inch by inch, retracted the wings in, retracted the claws and his grimace too. When he flopped back into his seat, he waved his hand carelessly and suddenly another chair appeared directly behind her.

He did not motion for her to sit and Nesta did not thank him when she did.

"I thought your entire spiel is that you give a choice where other males do not." Cutting him with a glare, Nesta leaned backwards before saying anymore, noting his already bothered face. "Why is it that you hate me so much for not wanting to accept Cassian's advances? Not wanting any of your family's actions to bring me into your happy circle. I thought it was a choice."

Rhysand glared back and she knew he was itching to bite back. But what to say? She was right in calling out his hypocrisy and they both knew it.

They sat in silence, not altogether unpleasant, as the sun set and the room became painted in a glowing red that reminded Nesta of Cassian's siphons.

"You are not mated." It was an observation spoken in hushed contemplation in a slowly darkening room.

Nesta couldn't help but scoff. "Why is everyone so obsessed with whether or not I am mated? I didn't realize it affected you at all." Nesta did not point out that they hadn't specified who she was or was not mated to. She supposed, at this point, it didn't really matter.

"I can tell that there is a difference in your scents, but it's not a mating bond. Not really," Rhysand admitted.

Yes, that would make sense. Her and Cassian had shared a bed for months now. They'd been at each other's throats with need and lust every time the opportunity presented itself- which often ended up being every night and multiple times through the day. If she didn't know better, and she did, she would have suspected it was a mating bond's frenzy, as she'd heard of once in passing from Feyre. It would make sense that Rhysand and likely everyone could note the change in their scents, but Nesta was not about to admit out loud her and Cassian's bedroom habits.

"Again, why does it matter to you?"

"Because after that dinner at your house, Cassian came back to Velaris."

He had? She had assumed that he had simply gone back to sleep in their room when she'd refused his comfort. "And he fought with me about how I acted with you. I've never had him talk to me like that. And it was all for you."

Nesta scoffed. "So you didn't like being challenged? Poor High Lord who everyone else dies to please didn't like being yelled at?"

"Because I hurt my brother in a way that I've never done before and the last thing I said to him was..." Rhysand cut himself off. Took a breath. "Not kind words. Horrible words. I can't bear it if that was the last thing I said to him."

Nesta had not been kind either. Perhaps they had joked and dropped into old routines, where Nesta ignored everything that was upsetting her, in the brief moments they'd had together before the martax had attacked them. But she had pushed him and his concern away, practically spitting with venom when he'd made her leave the house with him.

Nesta pushed back a stray strand of hair on Cassian's forehead, stroking softly as she often used to through the night when Cassian woke up screaming with nightmares, and could fall asleep no other way.

"I could not bear it either," she admitted softly, more to herself than anyone else.

Rhysand stared at her curiously as she retracted her hand back to her lap, the feel of Cassian's hair permanently ingrained into her skin just as every other facet of him already had been. She did not offer him any explanation as she settled back into her seat.

No, they had not paraded their relationship with grand declarations to anyone in Velaris. Not even in Windhaven. Everyone around them had simply just...come to accept that it had happened. But, she supposed, Rhysand and his family would not be aware of it. Cassian had never flaunted her, as he was unlike most, and understood her need for privacy.

Eventually, Morrigan came into the room and quietly told Rhysand about some court matter that Nesta did not bother to pay attention to. Rhysand had nodded stiffly and made to follow the blonde Fae who had not so much as spared a glance to Nesta since her arrival. Nesta didn't care for any of that. But she wondered how she was faring. She knew of Cassian and Mor and Azriel's complicated history, and Cassian had all but confirmed that there was no romance between him and the female who was more a sister. But she was still his family. And one member in a family hurt, everyone hurt with them.

As he reached the entrance of the door, Nesta heard Rhysand stop, and murmur to Morrigan to go on without him. That he would join her later.

He cleared his throat, and while Nesta had no interest in starting another round of verbal sparring with him, she inclined her head enough to look at him.

"I spoke to Feyre," he announced. As if that was a grand explanation and all the information she needed to know. She quirked her brows without thinking, letting her irritation be known. "I apologize in advance if you think I am out of bounds or that she should not have told me any of this. But...Feyre and I tend to share everything with each other."

And I bet you also braid each other's hair and gossip through the night.

Rhysand winked. Most definitely.

Perhaps Rhysand thought it was invitation that she hadn't pushed him out yet, but he continued speaking mind to mind with her then.

I know you think that you are not good enough for my brother.

Nesta straightened her spine at that. At all that Feyre had revealed to Rhysand from a conversation in confidence. But she did not explode even though instinct had her rearing up and ready to.

"I think I may be to blame for that. And for how the rest of my family reacted to you then as well." Rhysand swallowed, as if physically pushing his pride down to get the words out. "Feyre and Cassian...they are not like us Nesta. You and I are guarded. We don't just let people in. It takes time. And outside of those we deem our own, we don't let ourselves shed that armor around our minds and hearts."

Yes. Perhaps the first thing that Rhysand had ever said that she could agree with. It was irritating to admit, but they were more similar than it seemed.

He went on. "They're the best parts of us, I think you'll agree. The light to our dark." She did agree. "And when I met Feyre, when I knew who she was to me, there was so much I wanted to tell her and have with her that I held back from. Some of it was Tamlin, I'll admit. And how he'd broken some of her spirit."

Nesta clenched her teeth at the reminder of the other High Lord that had captured Feyre, gotten her killed, and then kept her prisoner against her will when she had changed her mind about him.

Rhysand became somber then. "But there's always been a part of me that knows she could do better than me too. That she is too good for me and that I do not deserve her." Nesta gave him her full attention then. "And when I found out we were mates, at first I was sure that it was a mistake."

Nesta understood that. She did not know if Cassian knew that was why she'd kept herself away from him for so long. Someone like Cassian would never deserve someone as horrible as Nesta. As wretched as her.

"The thing that I've learned though, and I think you should now too," Rhysand went on, "is that the bond doesn't care about all that. Not about what you did in the past or what you should have. It just...chooses."

And it chose wrong, she thought inwardly. But she stayed silent.

"You will never feel like you deserve him," Rhysand declared, and if it wasn't the same thought she'd had every day, she wouldn't have bared her teeth so viciously.

"I do not feel like I deserve your sister," he admitted without any hesitance, much to her surprise. "But that doesn't change anything for them. Maybe we don't deserve them. Maybe we do. We'll never know. All we have is now and each other and I didn't die and come back just to waste my life in self-pity and fear. And you shouldn't either."

Nesta stared at Rhysand, realizing this was the most they'd ever spoken to each other ever. It was a strange sort of understanding shared between them. The overlap in their lives over the same people they loved, even with how much they themselves clashed.

Rhysand left after his confessions and tidbits of advice that she hadn't asked for. All of it had left her feeling more lost and empty than before. Perhaps he was right. But Nesta was too tired to sort through all her thoughts and she was also too worried about Cassian currently to think about Cassian in her future.

Cassian as her mate.

It was a terrifying thought. So much more at stake and all the ways in which she'd let him down...

No. She wouldn't think that far ahead right now. All she wanted to think of at the moment was Cassian getting better.

"Please," she whispered into Cassian's barely rising chest. "Come back to me. You are...you are all I have." Nesta let the tears roll down her cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away as she began weeping again. "You promised me time. Give us that time. Come back and we'll have it, Cassian. Please."

Cassian, who had never once shied away from her, who had never failed to rise to her taunts or tease her questions, who had been unwavering and present and hers, did not respond.

~*~

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#nesta archeron fanfic #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #acotar #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfiction #nesta #nessian fanfic #nessian fic #nessian #a court of witches and warriors #acowaw

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bumblesimagines · 4 years ago

Text

We All Have Secrets

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

TW: Homophobia, transphobia, biphobia

(Y/N) opened the fridge, taking out the orange juice. Maria watched him with a small smile, head resting on her fist as she took in the smell of bacon and eggs.

"I love having an aspiring chef as a boyfriend." Maria cooed, giggling softly as she watched him. (Y/N) chuckled, pouring her a glass of juice and placing it infront of her.

"These are the basics everyone knows how to do." (Y/N) reminded, turning off the stove and putting the plate infront of her. He sat across from her, handing her a fork. (Y/N) looked at his phone, picking it up and answering the call from Isabela.

"Yeah?" He asked, getting a bacon strip and taking a bite.

"Remember the hacker shit? Natalia, Raul, and Gerry were the assholes who betrayed me. They chose me." Isabela told him, huffing lightly. (Y/N) heard Isabela zipping up her bag. (Y/N) looked at Maria, licking his lips. Maria blinked, eyes widening as she stared at something on her phone.

"The hacker asked if I wanted revenge." Isabela said softly. (Y/N) put down his fork, rubbing his forehead as he sighed.

"Let's talk more at school. I'll see you there." (Y/N) said, hanging up and going on instagram. He saw the posts from the hacker, watching them. (Y/N) scoffed as he watched Pablo's video.

"What a piece of shit." He whispered, scrolling down to Natalia's video. Maria put her phone down, gaze flickering from place to place. She quickly ate and finished her juice, standing up and going to (Y/N)'s bedroom.

"Princess?" (Y/N) called out, standing up and following her. Maria glanced at him, changing out of (Y/N)'s clothes and into some clothes she had left behind from previous visits and nights over.

"I-I should be there for Natalia. God knows what she might be going through." Maria said, picking up her bag. (Y/N) nodded, changing as well and grabbing his keys.

"Come on." He smiled softly, grabbing her hand. They left the house, getting into (Y/N)'s car and driving to school. Maria's leg bounced from nerves. She anxiously nibbled on her bottom lip, looking out the window.

"Who do you think is Hunny Bunny?" (Y/N) asked, staring at the road. Maria blinked and turned her head, looking at him. Her lips parted as she shrugged.

"I'm not sure." She breathed out. (Y/N) hummed, a sigh leaving him as he shook his head. He drove into the parking lot, pulling into a spot and getting out. He could hear people talking about the videos, wrapping an arm around Maria's shoulders as they headed inside. Maria immediately spotted her sister, quickly approaching her and giving her a hug.

"What they said.. Wasn't true, right?" Maria asked, pulling away and placing her hands on Natalia's shoulders. Natalia scoffed, rolling her eyes and pushing Maria's hands away.

"Of course, Maria." She crossed her arms, glancing at the other students. (Y/N) noticed Isabela walking in, heading towards the lockers.

"I'll see you in class, gorgeous." (Y/N) said, pecking Maria's temple and jogging over to Isabela. He caught up to her, gently grabbing her arm. Isabela turned her head, noticing him and sighing softly. She pulled him into a classroom, arms crossing as she leaned against a desk.

"Natalia, Gerry, and Raul were behind it. I can't believe them! They sacrificed me to save their owm asses." Isabela shook her head, tapping her foot on the ground. She bit her bottom lip, eyes watering.

"They were supposed to be my friends. I wouldn't have saved my ass. I would've had my own secret revealed to save them. I guess the truth's out. Natalia's a thief, Rauls dad is a corrupted politician, Gerry's gay, and Pablo is a cheater." Isabela shook her head, sighing deeply. She looked at (Y/N), eyes softening.

"I know you love Maria. You can stick by her and Natalia-"

"No, Isa. I've known you longer than any of them. I love Maria but she'll support Natalia like always. I'll support you. You know Maria supports you as well. She just doesn't want to hurt her sister." (Y/N) shrugged lightly, running a hand through his hair. He placed a hand on Isabela's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You'll always have my support, Isa. Don't listen to what these nosy fuckers have to say." (Y/N) said, pulling her in for a hug. Isabela hugged him back tightly, sniffling softly. They pulled back and gave each other smiles. Isabela took out her phone to check her makeup, making sure it wasn't running.

"You're the person I can trust." She mumbled, fixing her hair. They headed to class when the bell rang, entering and getting their lab coats. (Y/N) sat down beside Maria, gaze briefly locking with Javier. He looked away, sighing softly. The classroom was mostly silent, tension high in the air. A lot of things had been revealed over the span of two days.

"Jeez, why is everyone so tense? The only who should be tense is Natalia." Rosita said, chuckling as she motioned towards the irritated girl. The boys snickered, earning glares from Natalia. Isabela didn't spare Pablo a glance, simply looking forward. Maria glanced at (Y/N), reaching over and taking his hand. The teacher, Gabriela, walked in, greeting the class as she walked towards the front. She noticed the silence and sighed.

"Look, I know all of us are a little nervous after what happened but let's try to stay focused in class today, alright?" Gabriela looked over them.

"Let's start by brainstorming ideas for the science project." She tugged on the bottom of the projector, letting it rise to reveal a drawing on the whiteboard with 'Pablo's giant dick' next to it. Snickers spread across the classroom. Gabriela scoffed, beginning to erase it. Pablo got up to help, mumbling things under his breath. Isabela rolled her eyes, tapping her pen on the table. (Y/N) snorted quietly, earning a nudge from Maria.

"You've never seen one that big?" Pablo asked, dusting off his hands and looking at the others.

"Why are you doing it? Why not let her do it? It's her dick." Gerry said, motioning to Isabela. (Y/N)'s small grin dropped, sitting up and glaring at Gerry.

"Shut the fuck up, Gerry." (Y/N) sneered. Maria gave his hand a squeeze, shaking her head lightly. Isabela scoffed and raised her hand.

"Gabriela, can I change partners? I don't want to work with Pablo." Isabela said. Gabriela nodded.

"You can work with Natalia. Maria can work with Pablo-"

"I don't want Natalia either." Isabela crossed her arms, avoiding Natalia's stunned gaze. "Can I work with (Y/N)?"

"Isa! I already told you I didn't steal anything!" Natalia huffed, frowning and glaring at her classmates. Gerry raised his hand, looking serious.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"What is it?"

"I think Alex, (Y/N), and Ismael should work together. They'd make a diverse and open-minded project." Gerry said, shrugging as students laughed. Isabela stood up from her seat, walking towards Gerry. Gerry quickly stood and backed up.

"Isabela! My name's Isabela, asshole." Isabela snapped, glaring at Pablo when he got between them. (Y/N) got up, walking towards Gerry and grabbing him by the collar.

"(Y/N), baby, calm down!" Maria stood and went after her boyfriend, pulling on his arm. She glanced at Javier who tried pulling him back as well. Isabela pushed Pablo back, stepping away from him.

"(Y/N), let him go. Do it this instant." Gabriela ordered, glancing at Isabela and Pablo. (Y/N) let him go, turning and looking at Isabela as she pushed Natalia back as well.

"Don't touch me!" Isabela glared at them, continuing to back away from them. Gerry was pushed away from (Y/N) by Gabriela to keep them apart.

"Calm down your bunny, dude!" Gerry told Pablo. Isabela scoffed, eyes watering as she rolled her eyes. Gerry feinged surprise, hand covering his mouth.

"Oh my god. That's right! Ismael isn't your bunny, right?" Gerry asked. Isabela grabbed a testing tube, throwing it at Gerry with a frustrated scream. Gerry ducked, letting it shatter behind him. The classroom went silent.

"And that's Ismael!" Gerry laughed as Gabriela grabbed him, pushing him towards that door.

"That's enough! All of you to the principals office!" Gabriela shouted at them, pointing towards the door. Isabela took off the lab coat, tossing it to the side and leaving the classroom. (Y/N) followed after, walking out of the classroom. Natalia, Pablo, Gerry, and Javier followed after.

"Miss-"

"You stay here, Maria." Gabriela breathed out, pushing her red curls away from her face as she panted softly.

(Y/N) plopped down beside Isabela, hands in his pockets. He sat up and scooted closer to her when Javier sat beside him. Javier noticed, jaw clenching but he stayed silent.

"That's one way to skip class." (Y/N) muttered, tilting his head back. Isabela sighed, arms crossed and shoulders tense. Lulu, Quintanilla's secretary, looked over them with a disapproving head shake. They silently waited to be called into Quintanillas office. Sofia joined them, sitting beside Javier. Quintanilla opened his door, motioning to Pablo. Pablo pushed himself off the wall, entering his office. (Y/N) scoffed at the flirtatious look Lulu gave him when he passed by her.

"I always knew she had a loose screw." (Y/N) mumbled, toying with his hoodie strings. Isabela glanced at him, lightly shaking her head.

"Bet it's drier than the Sahara down there." Isabela mumbled with a small grin, earning a chuckle from (Y/N).

"(Y/N), can we talk later?" Sofia asked after leaning forward. (Y/N) looked at her, nodding. He glanced at Javier before looking forward again. Sofia shifted her gaze onto Isabela. The two quietly spoke before Isabela was called in. Sofia stood and took her spot, giving (Y/N) small smile.

"It's been a while since we've hung out." Sofia said quietly. (Y/N) licked his lips, shrugging as he gave her a small grin.

"Yeah, we haven't had a depressing conversation on the roof in forever." They chuckled. Sofia smiled and sighed, running a hand through her short hair. (Y/N) wrapped his hoodie string around his finger, gaze drifting to the ground.

"What do you want to talk about?" (Y/N) asked, brows furrowing. Sofia looked at him, licking her chapped lips. She glanced at the others, leaning in slightly.

"The hacker's identity." She explained quietly. (Y/N) hummed, nodding slowly. He glanced at Javier when he stood up to get a cup of water.

"I don't think you'd do something like this." Sofia said, giving him a small smile. (Y/N) looked at her, cocking a brow.

"And why not? Am I not smart enough to be a hacker?"

"Yeah, basically." Sofia nodded, laughing when (Y/N) scoffed and gently pushed her. He looked up when Isabela left the office, letting the door slam behind her. She mumbled things under her breath as she passed by. Javier sat down, watching her walk away. Quintanilla called for Natalia but Lulu reminded him of a meeting.

"Luis mom is here cause her son's backpack was peed on." Lulu explained. (Y/N) immediately looked at Gerry, scoffing and shaking her head.

"You've got to be a certain type of breed to pee on people's stuff like an animal." (Y/N) said under his breath, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. Natalia entered Quintanillas office as Sofia stood up to get water. (Y/N) stared up at the ceiling as he waited to be called. Natalia quickly rushed out of the office, earning odd looks.

"(Y/N), come in." Quintanilla called, nodding inside.

"Finally." (Y/N) whispered as he stood, walking into his office and sitting down. He rested his arm on the armrest, watching Quintanilla sit down.

"I'm surprised to see you here. You're usually a well behaved student. Now, I know Isabela is a good friend of yours-"

"Is Gerry gonna face any consequences? What he's doing can be considered bullying." (Y/N) cut him off, tilting his head. Quintanilla licked his lips, giving a small nod.

"Well, as far as I'm aware, this is a one time occurrence." Quintanilla shrugged.

"With Isabela, maybe. What about Luis? Gerry and his ass kissers always bully him. They peed on his fucking backpack. You would've made time for his mom. What kind of principal lets a bully get away with no consequences? Oh, wait... I know. The type who just wants to suck up to the parents of the rich kids. You know, I really hoped you were better, Quintanilla. You're just as incompetent as Lulu." (Y/N) shook his head, looking towards the window. Quintanilla cleared his throat.

"Where is this attitude coming from?"

"From exhaustion. When Luis finally snaps and does something stupid or Gerry decides to impress his friends by doing a shitty thing, it'll be entirely on you." (Y/N) stood, chair scratching loudly against the floor. He walked towards the door, opening it and grabbing the door handle. He pulled on it, making it slam loudly. (Y/N) dug his hands into his pockets, walking away. He glanced at the four remaining, giving a small shrug.

"Today's a great day." He grinned, heading downstairs. (Y/N) blew a raspberry, walking towards a water fountain. He drank some water, leaning back and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He looked at Maria as she approached him. She wrapped her arms around him, gazing up at him.

"(N/N), what happened? What did you talk about?" Maria asked, frowning. (Y/N) shrugged, wrapping an arm would her waist and walking beside her.

"We talked about conversing before escalating things." (Y/N) replied, giving her a small smile. Maria relaxed, leaning against him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Isa probably already told you but Nati stole her phone and let the hacker have it." Maria said softly, still in disbelief.

"I can't believe my sister is not only a thief but a terrible friend." Maria looked up at him, giving his side a squeeze. (Y/N) looked down at her, smiling softly.

"I'm thankful I got with the better sister." (Y/N) grinned, laughing softly. Maria rolled her eyes playfully, giving him gently.

"Maria, I need your help!" The couple looked at Natalia with furrowed brows. Natalia looked between them, a frown on her face.

"Help me look for my purse. I think I left it in science class but.. I-I don't know." Natalia grabbed Maria's hand, pulling them along. (Y/N) sighed, letting go of Maria when they entered the science classroom. The three searched for Natalia's bag.

"How do you lose a pink bag?" (Y/N) asked, glancing under some seats. Natalia shrugged, continuing to frantically search.

"I'm not sure." Natalia breathed out. (Y/N) dusted off his hands on his jeans, standing beside Maria. The two watched Natalia, sharing a glance.

"It'll appear again, Nati. We need to focus on the Nona thing." Maria reminded as she faced her. (Y/N) wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Maria, focus. Do you know how much that purse costs?" Natalia asked, frustrated. Rosita entered the classroom, letting a grin slip.

"Are you okay, Nati?" Rosita asked, tilting her head. Natalia spun around to face her.

"No! My purse is missing!" She huffed. Maria sighed, leaning back against (Y/N). Rosita clicked her tongue, pouting.

"Too bad they stole your purse. I'm sure you had to save up a lot for it." Rosita said, the fake pity clear as day. Natalia looked at her, slowly approaching her.

"You know where it is?" She asked quietly.

"What's the matter with you? Not everyone is like you." Rosita said. She grinned widely, blowing her kiss.

"See you around." She turned and walked away.

"Fucking bitch!" Natalia screamed after her, earning a look from Maria. (Y/N) chuckled, shaking his head and looking away when Natalia glared at him. He pecked the top of Maria's head before stepping away from her.

"So, where else have you been?" (Y/N) asked, tilting his head. "Maybe you left it somewhere else."

"I already checked my locker and the lunchroom. Rosita fucking stole it. She's such a bitch." Natalia muttered. (Y/N) took out his phone when it vibrated, looking at the text.

Javier W.

We need to talk.

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