nine ;
b r o o k s

BROOKS HAD A CRUSH on Hale Ryves. 

The thought was unexpected and completely unrelated to the English literature homework he was supposed to be doing. Well, maybe not completely unrelated; he was reading over his copy of The Great Gatsby and making notes, which led to a theme a little too close to home. Unrequited love. Maybe Brooks didn't have it quite as bad as Gatsby, who spent five years amassing his wealth to impress the girl (boy, in this case) he liked, but it was still enough of a problem to distract him.

He'd tried his absolute best to forget about him. Sure, he'd occasionally found himself daydreaming in class about the warm deep brown of a certain pair of eyes or letting his gaze linger on Hale from across the common room for a little too long, but he'd never acted on his impulses. He'd kept his distance and tried to ignore that warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest every time Hale smiled at him.

Fuck, he'd tried so hard and it had failed. There was no point denying it any longer. He had a crush on Hale Ryves.

It was pathetic, really, that this is how he was spending his Saturday night. Poring over his books and annotations for the essay that no one else would be starting until the Sunday night before school while pining after a straight guy. In his defence, he was still grounded for the party last week, but he doubted his mother would notice if he did leave the house. She wasn't even here to enforce it, off at whatever church event his parents were attending this time, and the only one who'd snitch on him was Adam. He knew his secret was safe with Inkeri.

Brooks chewed the end of his pencil and thought about Hale, a much more appealing train of thought than his homework. He'd said he was going clubbing this weekend and that probably meant he was in town right now, getting drunk or laid; most likely both. It was as depressing as it was undoubtedly true, and suddenly, thinking about Hale wasn't quite as fun. It also wasn't doing much for that crush he was supposed to be getting rid of.

He was startled from his thoughts by a loud crash from downstairs, followed by rowdy cheers and yells of enthusiasm. Oh yeah, how could he forget the other reason he was camped out hiding in his own bedroom? Adam had taken advantage of his parents absence to have a little "gathering" of his own, which was the tame watered down version he'd fed Inkeri for her permission.

There was no way Brooks was wandering down there, where all of Adam's drunk friends would start cooing over how young and cute he was, as if he wasn't just one year below them. But his major reason for avoiding the party zone like the plague was Reed Bishop; satan's spawn would undoubtedly be down there, waiting to make his night miserable. Brooks knew it was pathetic to hide from someone in his own house and he was doing it anyway.

His phone started ringing, and he snatched it up, glad for an excuse not to think about Hale or schoolwork or Reed. The caller ID told him it was Hassan. "Hey," he said, answering the call. "Sup, Hassan?"

"What are you doing right now?" he asked, straight to the point as always.

"Um..." Brooks glanced pitifully at the notes scattered across his desk, his failed attempt at studying. He knew what Hassan would have to say about that and wasn't in the mood for his brutal honesty. "Why?"

"I'm stuck on the late shift at this shithole, and I want to kill myself a little more with every passing second," Hassan said flatly. "This grandma at the bar keeps hitting on me and I might have to poison her so I don't end up quitting this job."

"A grandma?" Brooks almost choked on the pencil he'd been absently chewing on for the past ten minutes. It was probably the most exciting thing to happen to him all day. "Did you just say a grandma is at the bar, and hitting on you?"

"Basically a grandma," Hassan said scornfully. "She's pushing forty, at best. Not that she's fooling anyone with all that make up and botox."

Brooks couldn't suppress his laughter. "Jeez, Hassan, there's a big difference between a grandma and forty."

"Not a big enough one. She's way too old either way and it's making me wanna puke."

Hassan was part of a large family, which meant his allowance was meagre and didn't give him much. That was the only reason he tolerated his job waiting tables at a crummy restaurant in central Manchester, because although the customers were questionable and always drunk, the tips were good. They weren't very strict on employee rules and that was probably why Hassan was getting away with talking on his phone while working.

"As gross as that is, murder is seriously frowned upon," Brooks informed him, "so please don't kill her."

"She's not the problem. This job is the problem. It's slowly destroying my soul."

"I thought you didn't have a soul," Brooks reminded him. "That's what you always tell Calla when she tries to guilt trip you into her crazy plans."

"Oh, yeah." In the background, Brooks could hear the low murmur of voices and clinking glasses. "Anyway. You don't sound like you're doing anything important or interesting. Come and stop me from killing myself, or the grandma who keeps giving me the eye. Or both of us."

Brooks blew out a low breath and spun around in his swivel desk chair. "As much as I'd love to watch the elderly flirt with you," he said, chuckling at the strange image, "I'm technically grounded."

"Technically?"

"No one's here to know whether I go out or not," Brooks admitted. "Except Adam, who doesn't care enough about what I do unless he can use it as blackmail."

"Well, great. Nothing to stop you."

There was another series of bangs and thumps from below his bedroom, loud enough to shake the floor. Brooks didn't even want to know what the hell was going on downstairs and he had to wait a couple of seconds for the shouting and screaming to die down a little, before moving his phone back to his ear.

"What about Calla?" Brooks asked.

"What about her?"

"Can't she keep you company?

Hassan sounded exasperated. "Maybe if she learnt how to answer her phone, she could have the free food too."

"Hold up." Brooks stopped frowning at rampant sounds of the party and turned his full attention to the call. "Did you just say free food?"

"Oh, didn't I mention that?" Brooks could hear the smirk in Hassan's voice. "A reservation cancelled at the last minute and the kitchen has a lot of leftover food. Sneaking it out would be the easiest thing I've done all night."

"What the hell, okay," Brooks said, throwing his pencil down with a little too much vigour. Barricading himself in his room meant he hadn't gotten a chance to have dinner and all the food in the house had probably been cleaned off downstairs. "Like I could turn down free food. I'll be there in around half an hour, okay?"

"Assuming I haven't committed a felony by then. Oh, great, grandma's waving me over again," Hassan said sarcastically. "Better go turn down her booty call. Again. I should be getting paid double for this shit."

Brooks shook his head in amusement when the call cut off. Clearly, whoever hired Hassan as a waiter had been pretty desperate; he was the polar opposite of the friendly, smiley person expected to greet customers. At least Brooks could fake a smile if he had to, but Hassan's default expression was dispassionate and unimpressed. It certainly didn't say approachable and warm.

Brooks didn't bother changing out of his basic jeans and hoodie combo, and braced himself before slipping out of his bedroom. Luckily, the upper floors had apparently been cordoned off, although Brooks had to manoeuvre around a couple of people alternating between talking and sucking face on the staircase. He'd almost made it to freedom, less than a foot away from the front door, when a sneering familiar voice said his name.

Brooks turned around with a sigh. "What the hell do you want, Reed?"

"Just wondering why your sorry face finally decided to make an appearance," Reed smirked, a red solo cup clasped in his hand. "Got bored of keeping your textbooks company? I guess even nerds need a break from their relationships with the books."

Brooks felt his face turn warm, because Reed was spot on that he had been studying upstairs, but he wasn't about to give Reed the satisfaction of being right. "Sorry for actually wanting to do well and have a future," Brooks muttered, yanking the door open. "Bye. If you're just going to waste my time with the usual insults, I think I'll pass."

"And where do you think you're going, loser?"

"I fail to see how that's your business."

Reed leant against the wall with a stupidly smug expression. "You've been grounded, jackshit," he smirked, taking a long patronising sip of whatever nasty concoction was in his cup. "Need a reminder of what that means? No leaving the house. It's against the rules. You'll be in a shit ton of shit if you get caught, hm? Your mummy certainly won't be pleased."

Brooks stared at him. "What, are you threatening to rat me out?"

"I'm simply stating the facts, dumbass," he said with a nasty smile. "Take it how you will."

Brooks didn't know why he was bothering even talking to him. Regardless of what he said, Reed would do whatever he pleased, especially if it brought misery to his life. "Fuck you," Brooks said, without much heat. It was too tiring trying to argue with someone who had apparently made it their life mission to torment him for no reason. He'd long since given up trying to figure out why. "I hope you pass out in your puke again, Reed."

He was rewarded with a rare wide-eyed look of shock, that stupid smirk wiped right off his face. Wanting to savour that expression for as long as possible, Brooks stepped outside and slammed the door shut in his face. He wasn't generally an argumentative person, with a tendency to avoid confrontation wherever possible, but it always felt good to have the upper hand on jackasses like Reed.

It was just Brooks' luck he happened to overhear that embarrassing drunk story when Adam and Reed were discussing it, and he now had potential ammunition to use when Reed was being particularly difficult.

*

Embers was an all-night restaurant that doubled as a bar located smackdab in the centre of Manchester, nestled among the other trendy cafes and bars and most importantly, clubs. The owner had most likely specifically chosen this area because of the latenight customers they would attract, drunk and sleepy adults looking for a place to wind down. Brooks easily went unnoticed as he moved among the people crowding the streets, hood pulled over his hair.

The door chimed as Brooks pushed it open, relishing in the warmth after having to walk from the met in the freezing cold to get here. He rubbed his numb hands and glanced around uncertainly. This place wasn't fancy enough for someone to come take his jacket or ask if he wanted a table or something, and he felt too awkward to go and make himself comfortable at a table. He scanned the room and spotted Hassan at the bar with a familiar curly haired individual. Unsurprisingly, Calla had turned up at the bribe of free food, too.

He weaved between tables in their direction, but they were both facing away from him and too busy in their conversation to notice his approach. He was about to interrupt when he heard his name, and instinctively paused. Okay, eavesdropping was terrible and he definitely shouldn't do it, but it impossible not to sneak a little listen after knowing they were talking about him.

"...you want to bring it up with Brooks?" Calla was saying, winding a curl around her finger. It was something she did when she was nervous and it didn't make him feel much better. "Everyone knows you're more straightforward than me, Hassan. It'll be better that way."

"And everyone knows you're nicer than me," Hassan said, as simply as if stating a fact. "Sensitivity seems more appropriate in this situation."

Brooks desperately wanted to keep listening, but he already felt bad enough about overhearing a conversation he wasn't supposed to be a part of. Eavesdropping was bad enough; he wouldn't do it to his best friends. "What situation?" he asked curiously, slipping between the two of them. "What do you want to bring up?"

Calla gave a little shriek of surprise and almost knocked over the glass at her elbow. Hassan was a little more composed, only raising an eyebrow at Brooks' unexpected appearance, but even he couldn't hide the brief flash of surprise across his face. "B-brooks!" Calla laughed nervously. "I didn't see you there. Nope, it's nothing. Nothing to bring up."

Brooks looked between her badly disguised anxious face and Hassan's impassive one. "Hm, really? Doesn't sound like nothing."

"It was definitely nothing," Calla assured him, with more nervous fiddling and unconvincing laughter. "But just out of curiosity...how much did you overhear?"

"Not that much," Brooks said slowly. "Seriously, what's going on? What are you talking about?"

Calla shot Hassan a pointed look, who yawned into his hand as if the whole exchange was exhausting him. "It's not very exciting," he said, moving the glass Calla had almost smashed out of the way in one deft motion. "Calla wanted advice on his to convince you to throw a birthday party. Telling her I didn't care wasn't working so I tried a different approach."

"Yes! Yes, exactly, that's what we were talking about." Calla nodded fervently and smiled at Brooks. "I know how you get about these things and I didn't know how to bring it up with you."

"For Gods sake, not that again," Brooks groaned, slumping against the bar. "As nice as it is of you to want to do that for me, it's just not a good idea, Cal. I'm perfectly happy letting that day pass and forgetting about it."

Birthdays had never been particularly sentimental for Brooks. They came, he pretended to feel different now that he was a full year older, and then they went. He thought his lack of excitement was partially his parents fault. As a kid, they rarely bothered much with celebration beyond a card that had their names scribbled impersonally at the bottom. Inkeri was the only one who ever made much of an effort, buying him little toys and Finnish treats.

"How can you not want to celebrate your birthday?" Calla shook her head in dismay. "It's the one day a year that's just about you! You should make the most of it."

Brooks shrugged. "Well, it's already come and gone. I'm seventeen now. No point in dwelling on a day that already passed last week."

"Exactly what I said," Hassan said, bored. "I also told her to stop jabbering unnecessarily, but that's not going to be happening anytime soon."

Calla flicked him in the head. "Shut your face, idiot. I talk to make up for your silence."

"Is that any way to speak to the person who's bringing you free food?"

Calla immediately perked up, and exchanged a grin with Brooks. "Now you're talking! Let's see, I'm in the mood for some pizza. How about you, Brooks?"

"Pizza sounds good to me," Brooks agreed, smiling brightly at Hassan. "Although, I'm certainly not going to be picky if I'm not paying."

While Hassan disappeared to the kitchen to sneak them something, Calla pointed out the "grandma" who had been eyeing up Hassan all night. She was clearly trying to fight her age with the bleached hair and make-up plastered face, but it was obvious she could have been old enough to be his mother. Catching Brooks' curious gaze and totally misreading it, she winked at him. He immediately turned away with a bright red face and hissed at Calla to stop laughing.

Hassan left them with the pizza he'd snagged from the kitchen and went off to wait on more tables, grumbling under his breath the entire time. Somehow, the conversation steered towards Hale, something Brooks definitely didn't want to talk about. "I don't know how to capture his interest," she sighed, propping an elbow on the table. "I've done everything I can think of, short of outright telling him that I like him."

Brooks picked half-heartedly at his pizza. "Maybe honesty is the best policy," he murmured, unable to meet Calla's haze. He was worried she'd seen the truth spelt out in them, impossible to hide. "Maybe just...strike up a conversation. He's easy to talk to."

Calla nodded thoughtfully. "But about what?"

"I don't know, anything." Brooks chewed his lip and wondered how it'd gotten to the point he had to advise his best friend on how to get the guy he liked. "Ask him how the clubs were. That sounds like something he'd like to talk about."

"The clubs?"

Brooks had forgotten that she had no idea about that, and he'd failed to mention it. "Oh, yeah. He's out clubbing tonight."

"What?" Calla grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a shake, with surprising force for a tiny girl. "How could you not tell me this precious knowledge? How did you know this? Wait," she exclaimed, before Brooks could even consider answering her questions. "Clubbing. In Manchester. We're in Manchester!"

Brooks smiled sheepishly at the guy sitting a couple of seats down from them at the bar, who looked irritated that his tough macho sip-beer-alone-at-the-bar act was being interrupted by an excitable teenage girl. He looked like the type of loner guy who frequented seedy bars often, contemplating his life as he stared into the bottom of a beer bottle in search of answers. Brooks always thought those guys looked kind of cool, in a broody way.

"Calla, I know we're in Manchester," Brooks said, carefully extracting himself from her grip before she started shaking him like a rattle again. "Is there a reason you look so happy about that?"

Hassan joined them before she could reply, tugging at the tie knotted around his neck with vengeance. "I'm finally done," he declared, finally jerking the silver and black tie off with a savage yank. "Right before I did something my manager would regret. Like kill one of those stupid customers. I'm glad I spit in that guy's coke, serves him right for being a little asshole."

"You spit in his drink? I thought they only did that in the movies," Brooks said, appalled. "Please tell me you're joking, Has."

"Am I ever joking?"

"Enough about that!" Calla leapt to her feet with a wild smile that made Brooks wary. It was the same smile she wore when she tried to steal one of the chicks from school to keep as a pet, or when she decided she wanted to take a bath in cereal. It was a smile that spoke of craziness and inevitable regret. "You finished just on time, because we're going clubbing!"

Hassan looked at her blankly. "What."

She didn't give either of them a chance to process that, forget protest it. She practically skipped out of Embers with a bounce to her step, dragging Hassan and Brooks along behind her into the cold night. Manchester was really coming to life now, the flashing neon lights of clubs fighting for dominance, drawing in the moths looking for a little fun. Brooks felt out of place in his jeans, but he was a little more concerned about Calla's current plan.

"He must be in one of these ones," Calla said, raising her voice to be heard over the bustle on the streets. "This is where everyone from our school goes. It's the place to be! All we have to is find a way in and - "

"Woah, woah, let's take it back a step," Brooks said, pulling Calla to a stop before she got too carried away in her game. "Find a way in? We're underage and don't even have fake IDs, Calla. There's no way we'll be able to get in anywhere."

"Not that I want to," Hassan added, with a distasteful look. "I just escaped from drunk idiots. I don't want to be surrounded by them again."

"But it'll be fun!" She squeezed Brooks' hand with an imploring look. Goddamn, she was targeting him with those big brown doe eyes because she knew he couldn't resist. "Please? It's not just about finding Hale, I swear. The night's still young! You have to admit you're just a little curious what it's like in a club."

Hassan looked bored. "Nope."

Brooks knew that was essentially his way of giving in, because if he really didn't want to, he would have voiced his feelings loud and clear in a way that was impossible to ignore. Hassan didn't particularly care about anything and drifted through life without really bothering, just following along with whatever new fad Calla was interested in. He seemed to understand it would be less effort to just agree rather than argue with her.

Calla took that as a sign of defeat too and turned her full attention to Brooks. "Brooks?" she said hopefully. "Please? It won't be for long, I promise."

"Alright," he finally relented, stumbling back when she flung her arms around his neck in a hug. He rolled his eyes with a smile and patted Calla's head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm the bestest friend ever and you love me loads and all that. Let's just go find Hale."

*

i didn't mean to update but someone (y'all know who you are) caused that to happen, so...double update! hope you liked, i can promise there will be more b&h action soon :)

p.s. i have no regrets for all the tom holland gifs because he is the literal love of my life