twenty four ;
b r o o k s

A HAND GRABBED BROOKS by the shoulder and he just about leapt out of his skin in surprise, dropping the tray in his hands. It clattered to the floor and the plastic cups it had been laden with rolled across the floor, the few that had been filled spilling everywhere to soak through his shoes. He stared at the mess in dismay before turning to the one person who had caused it.

The girl with messily curled red hair was still gripping his shoulder, and blinking stupidly at the scattered plastic cups. Then she looked up at Brooks with a lopsided grin. "O-o-ops, my bad," she giggled, slurring so badly on her words that Brooks winced. "Was gonna ask for one of 'em drinks, but...guess not!"

She blew him an unfocused kiss that seemed more aimed at his shoulder than his face, and flounced off only to almost trip over her feet halfway across the room. Brooks watched her go with a long sigh. If her unsteady stagger hadn't been proof enough that she was drunk, the stink of alcohol on her breath was confirmation enough. Brooks sighed again and bent down to pick up the cups at his feet.

Of course she was drunk. Everyone at this party was drunk. Because Brooks had the shittiest luck, and he had no choice but to agree to the favour Adam had asked, he was stuck as one of the only sober people in this entire house. Even Inkeri wasn't at home to keep him company, because she was visiting family in Finland for the entire next week and her flight left this morning. It was just him, lots of alcohol, and all of Adam's intoxicated friends who had been treating him like a bin for their rubbish all evening.

He stacked up the empty cups and frowned at his wet shoes. He couldn't exactly keep wearing these, but the floor was covered with too much spilled alcohol and food not to have something on his feet. He ditched the tray in the kitchen and escaped to the cloakroom to change his shoes, an opportunity for some breathing room. It was filled with abandoned coats and shoes from strangers.

Brooks wished he was with Hale.

He hadn't seen him today and they hadn't had chemistry yesterday, so the only time he'd actually seen Hale was at lunch. And they didn't interact during lunch, nothing beyond exchanging smiles across the cafeteria, because they were in different social circles and there would be questions asked if either of them sat at a table other than their usual ones. Lexus wasn't a typical cliche high school you saw in the movies, and people could sit wherever they wanted, but Brooks and Hale couldn't give the real reason when people wanted to know why.

Brooks decided if he couldn't be with him, he could at least talk to him. He tried calling Hale, but when he only got through to voicemail, he settled for texting.

brooks :
i'm trapped in a house with drunk year thirteens

brooks :
send help asap

The cloakroom door opened and Brooks jumped, feeling strangely guilty as he quickly pocketed his phone. Jeez, he really did scare way too easily. He hadn't technically been doing anything wrong, but Adam was glaring at him from the doorway regardless. "Brooks, what the hell are you doing in here?" he demanded. "I gave you one job. Hiding in here isn't part of that."

Brooks crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not hiding - "

"Whatever. Just get back out there."

Adam held the door open and raised an eyebrow at him. With a sigh, Brooks trudged out of the room and resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his brother. If Adam wanted to have a party, he should deal with all the mess his dumb friends made around the house. Unfortunately, the price for getting lifts from Adam meant doing his dirty work for him, and that included mopping up someone's puke off the patio.

Brooks seriously wished he had been joking about that. Clearly, someone had been hitting the vodka a little too early.

Brooks was scrubbing sick out of a tiles with a mop and reconsidering a career as a janitor, seeing as he had so much experience now, when the patio doors slid open. He didn't think much of it - people had been stumbling in and out all night to find a cosy spot in the garden to snog - until a voice chirped, "Hi, Brooks!"

He glanced up to see Elsie Bishop smiling at him. She looked cute, her fluffy blonde hair held back with a blue headband that matched her dress, and some kind of colourful cocktail in her hand. "Elsie," he said, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I had nothing to do at home so Reed brought me along."

Brooks grimaced at the mention of Reed. He'd been avoiding him all night, but it was inevitable he'd have to deal with at least a few taunts, and he knew the time was coming. Reed would sleep over, as he always did, and Brooks would have to deal with him tomorrow morning. He hoped having Elsie around would help tone things down.

"Um..." Elsie glanced at the mop in his hand. "What exactly are you doing?"

Brooks leaned against the mop. "Just chilling with my date for the night. She's helping me act as the designated cleaner."

"No way," Elsie giggled, grabbing the mop and pulling him back towards the house. "You can't clean up during the party! That comes after you've had fun, so it's all worth it."

"Try telling Adam that."

Elsie set the mop off to the side and pulled the patio doors closed. "Forget about that," she said brightly, hooking her arm through his. "It's a party! Want to dance?"

"Oh, uh, no," Brooks said awkwardly, wringing his hands. "I don't dance. Nope."

"Are you sure?"

Brooks eyed the makeshift dance floor which had once been the dining room, with the table and chairs pushed off to one side. Katy Perry was playing on the loud speakers and a couple of people were attempting to twerk along to the music, although the result looked more like they were having a seizure. One guy was attempting to do the worm and continued fervently trying to the drunken cheers, even after nearly breaking his neck and the lamp his mother imported from Turkey.

"I'm positive," Brooks said decidedly. "You can go ahead, if you want. But do you actually know anyone here other than your brother?"

"Nope," Elsie smiled. "But I figured meeting new people was better than nothing. All my friends are busy."

"Really?" Brooks found that hard to believe, considering she must have an extensive list of friends to exhaust before she ran out. Brooks, on the other hand, was basically forever alone besides Calla and Hassan.

"Yep. Coralie's visiting her grandparents, Kara's on a netball trip, and all the guys are having a night out."

That got Brooks' interest. "A night out? What kind of night out?"

"The usual, I presume," she laughed, sipping her drink. "Clubbing and girls and all that. Although I'm sure Elliot will restrain, seeing as he's finally dating Kara. He's liked her since forever, that much is obvious, but at least he finally worked up the guts to ask her out and..."

Brooks nodded along absently, although he wasn't really listening and couldn't care less about Elliot or Kara. That must have been why Hale wasn't answering his phone. He'd never mentioned he was going out, but then again, Brooks hadn't mentioned he would be stuck at Adam's party. It wasn't a big deal. Hale didn't have to tell him what he was doing every second of the day - they weren't dating, after all.

"...wonder if Hale's meeting up with MJ?"

Brooks tuned back in at the mention of Hale. "Sorry, what? Who's MJ?"

"You haven't heard about MJ?" Elsie looked around conspiratorially as if to check no one was eavesdropping, which wasn't a problem. Most people were too caught up in each other's mouths or embarrassing themselves on the dance floor to pay attention to them. "Well, she's Hale's girlfriend."

Brooks felt his eyes widen. "His...girlfriend?"

"Yeah, I was the same when I found out too," Elsie said excitedly, misinterpreting the expression on his face as interest. "Her name's MJ and she's studying medicine at Manchester Uni. How cool is that? A doctor! No wonder Hale was keeping her a secret from us. She wouldn't want anything to do with high school kids."

Brooks couldn't keep the frown off his face. He knew that it didn't make sense, that whoever this MJ person was she couldn't actually be Hale's girlfriend, but Elsie sure seemed to know a lot about her. How had Brooks never heard about her before? Hale certainly hadn't mentioned her. Although, it would make sense now why he was so hesitant about the two of them dating.

What if it because he was already dating someone else?

"How long have they been dating?" Brooks asked, forcing himself to keep his voice calm. Even then, he heard the slight tremor to his words.

Elsie didn't seem to notice. "Oh, I don't know," she shrugged. "I'm guessing at least four months, maybe five."

Brooks' stomach bottomed out. Five months? He hadn't even known Hale - not properly known, anyway - for that long. It was a painful reminder that as much as Brooks liked him, they really didn't know each other that well in the grand scheme of things. There were so many things he wanted to know, little things that didn't mean anything but also meant everything. What was Hale's favourite food? Did he like horror movies? Why did he love sports?

Was he dating a medical student names MJ?

He wanted to brush it aside as ridiculous, not a possibility, but Elsie seemed entirely honest. Brooks couldn't stop thinking about how he'd called Hale and whether Hale had simply ignored the call because he was having too much fun at the club, having a great time with MJ because she was actually the person he wanted to date. She was the girl he liked and Brooks was just some loser kid who he couldn't get rid.

"Brooks?" Elsie touched his arm lightly with a concerned expression. "Are you okay? You look kinda pale."

"Fine," Brooks said, although his mouth tasted like dust and he didn't feel fine. What he really wanted to know was whether Hale was dating MJ, and whether Brooks ever had a chance. "I'm just tired, I guess."

Elsie looked like she was going to say something more on the matter, but then Beyoncé's Love On Top started blasting out from the speakers. "Oh my god!" she squealed, grabbing his arm. "I love this song!"

Brooks just nodded in response, mustering up a half-hearted smile. Elsie ran towards the dance floor and spun back around halfway, grinning at him. "Last chance, Brooks! Sure you don't wanna dance?"

Brooks shook his head. "I'm good, Elsie. Go ahead without me."

Elsie threw her hands into the air and disappeared onto the dance floor. Apparently, she wasn't the only one loved this song; all the others who'd been standing around and chatting made a beeline for a dance floor, exclaiming how great Beyoncé was, and Brooks had chosen a bad place to stand during the stampede. He'd barely taken a step back to retreat to the side of the room before someone stumbled into him, emptying the contents of their drink all over Brooks.

"Oops," the guy said, looking down at his empty cup. "What a waste of a good drink. Oh well." He glanced at Brooks' wet jumper, which was beginning to stick uncomfortably to him, and dropped the empty cup into his hand with a shrug. "Sorry 'bout that."

Brooks watched as he walked off without a backwards glance. "Asshole," he muttered under his breath.

The only good thing about the rush to dance to Beyoncé's tunes was that the kitchen was empty when Brooks entered. He headed for the sink and shook his head when he saw that it was filled to the brim with empty bottles and cups. The bin was literally right next to the sink. Was it seriously that hard to aim a couple of feet to the left? Or did everyone here just live to make his life difficult?

"Assholes," he muttered again, just to make himself feel better. It didn't really work.

He emptied out the sink, transferring all the rubbish to the bin, and wet a damp cloth to clean his shirt. It was just his luck he'd chosen today of all days to wear a light coloured jumper, and whatever had been in that cup was a delightful bright blue that was definitely going to stain his clothing. Already, it was already setting in to make an ugly blue blob. He rubbed uselessly at the stain and cursed under his breath.

"Oh dear," a lazy voice drawled. "Has the baby had an accident?"  

As if this day couldn't get any worse, Brooks' worst nightmare had decided to make an appearance. Reed was leaning against the doorway and smirking at him in a way that made Brooks want to punch him. "Get lost, Reed," Brooks muttered, turning back to the sink. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

"Ooh, someone's in a bad mood," Reed taunted. "What's wrong, Montgomery, got turned down by a girl? Surely you'd be used to it by now."

"Reed, seriously. Piss off."

"Did I hit the nail on the head with that one, then? Struck a nerve?"

Brooks gritted his teeth and clenched the cloth in his hand a little too tightly. "I swear to god, if you don't leave me alone - "

"You'll what?" Reed gave a derisive laugh, the sound slightly unsteady and wobbly. He sounded at least a little drunk. "Fight me? Get real, dumbass. You can't even look me in the eye without cowering like a pussy."

Something inside Brooks snapped. He was already pissed off, at that guy who had ruined his shirt and Adam for making him be here and Hale for dating a smart medical student and not bothering to tell him about it, and now Reed was just the cherry on top of a shitty day by being his usual jackass self.

Brooks whirled around to face Reed, only to see he'd stepped further into the kitchen so he was standing a few feet away. "What the fuck is your problem, Reed?" Brooks snapped, throwing the cloth down on the counter. "Because no matter what I do, or how much I try and ignore you, you treat me like a fucking piece of shit even though I have done literally nothing to you. So tell me, Reed, why the fuck have you made it your life's mission to ruin my life as much as possible?"

For probably the first time in his life, Reed looked stunned speechless. Brooks was breathing heavily, maybe from finally releasing all the pent-up emotions he'd been shoving down for years or maybe just from talking too quickly, and could feel his hands curling into fists at his side. He usually avoided confrontation like his life depended on it, but he was so pissed off that he would have gladly taken anything Reed had to say to him, just so he could fight back.

"Well?" Brooks prompted, taking a step forward and giving Reed a light shove to the shoulders. He was sure that would have never moved him under normal circumstances, but Reed stumbled back slightly. "Don't have anything to say to me now? No demeaning names, no insulting jokes to mock me?" Brooks shook his head. "Fuck you, Reed. Fuck you and your - "

Reed strode forward and grabbed his face. Brooks barely had time to draw in a surprised breath before he smashed his lips against Brooks'.

Brooks froze, unable to do anything more than stand there with Reed's lips against his. None of it felt real, not Reed's hands brushing against his jaw or his lips that tasted like alcohol or how very blue his eyes were, less than an inch away from Brooks'. He was too startled to even consider how weird it was that neither of them had closed their eyes, or that his hands were hanging limply at his sides.

Reed jerked away from him so suddenly Brooks almost lost his balance. His smirk was long gone, his chest rising and falling quickly as he stared at Brooks. Brooks could only stare back, at the flush across his cheekbones and how this was the most vulnerable his expression had ever been. All the cruelty and malice was stripped back to reveal a glimpse of the Reed that Elsie had spoken of.

"Um," Brooks began uncertainly. "Reed - "

"Don't," Reed said viciously, his face closing up as he took an unsteady step back. "Don't breathe a fucking word about this to anyone or I'll make sure you regret it."

Reed didn't give him a chance to respond. He spun around and stalked out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him so hard that the panes rattled in the frame. Brooks released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and slumped back against the counter. He glanced down to see his fingers were trembling and clutched the ends of his sleeve in an attempt to still them.

Brooks thought of all the times Reed had made derisive remarks in passing regarding gay people, or the homophobia occasionally thrown into conversations, always subtle but never subtle enough for Brooks to miss it. He thought of all the times he was certain Reed had somehow figured out his secret and that was the reason he hated him, because it was the only reason that made sense. He thought about the intensity with which Reed had kissed him.

What the hell just happened?

*

The door to Juniper's gave a musical tinkle as Brooks pushed it open, hitting him with a much needed gust of warmth. Adam was hungover from the night before, so Brooks had to walk to Juniper's at ten in the morning while the air was still chilly. Brooks scanned the cafe, which wasn't too busy considering it was a Sunday morning so most people wanted to sleep in, and spotted his friends at the table in the corner.

"About time," Calla said impatiently, practically bouncing in her chair when Brooks joined them. "You have been killing me with the suspense here, Brooks. What's going on?"

"See what I've had to put up with?" Hassan sipped his coffee with a sigh. "She's like a chipmunk on drugs when you keep something from her. Dangerous and rabid to the public if not safely detained."

Calla stuck her tongue out at him. "The only danger here is me dumping that coffee all over your head, Has."

Brooks had retreated to his own room not long after what happened, no longer caring about Adam's request, but he hadn't gotten much sleep. Reed, someone who could have been classified as his arch nemesis, had kissed him. Reed, who'd had more than his fair share of girlfriends. Reed, who hated him. It didn't make any sense. The music and noise from downstairs didn't die down until early in the morning, but it was Brooks' thoughts that kept him up all night.

Then there was Hale to consider. He'd replied to the text this morning, but Brooks hadn't been able to bring himself to reply, terrified Hale would somehow be able to see the truth even over the phone. They were supposed to meet up today - would that have counted as a date? Their first date? Just another confusing question to add to the growing pile - but Brooks had panicked, cancelling at the last minute with the pathetic excuse that he didn't feel well.

It wasn't entirely a lie. Only managing to get a couple of hours of sleep last night had given him a headache.

Brooks hadn't technically done anything wrong. Reed had been the one to kiss him, and he'd never decided with Hale whether they were exclusive or not. Brooks was too scared to tell Hale what happened, and even worse, it wasn't just because he didn't want Hale to get mad at him. A bigger part of him was terrified that Hale wouldn't even care when he learnt the truth, that he'd laugh because Brooks never actually meant anything to him, then he would go off with MJ for good.

God, just thinking about it was making his head hurt even more.

"Brooks?"

He looked up, only to see both Calla and Hassan were staring at him. He realised he'd completely zoned out and still hadn't given them an explanation for why he needed to meet them here so early on Sunday. All he'd said over the phone was that he needed to "talk". A talk he should have had with them a long time ago. Everything was a mess in his head and they deserved to know the truth, even if it was just so he had someone to talk about it to.

"Right, sorry," he murmured, rubbing his temples absently in an attempt to ease the pounding. "I just got a bit distracted."

"You don't say," Hassan said, raising an eyebrow. "You look like shit."

Calla stepped on his foot under the table with a dirty look. "What Hassan means to say is, you look a little...tired," she amended, which Brooks figured was just the nice way of saying he looked like shit. In all fairness, he felt like shit, too. "What's wrong, Brooks? Is it your parents?"

"No," he sighed. He didn't even have them to blame. This one was entirely on him. "No, it has nothing to do with them."

Calla's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "What is it, then?"

"Is it Bellamy?" Hassan added. "Because I know where she lives. And I've watched How To Get Away With Murder, so it's guaranteed they'll never be able to trace it back to us."

"Jeez, no," Brooks said hastily, because he didn't doubt for a second that Hassan would actually consider it. "Definitely not. Please don't kill anyone, Hassan."

Hassan shrugged indifferently. "Your loss."

"It's just..." Brooks tugged nervously at his sleeves, feeling a little sick at the thought of what he was going to say. "I have to tell you guys something."

Calla and Hassan exchanged a look. "Alright," Calla said, leaning forward across the table with earnest brown eyes. "We're all ears."

Brooks opened his mouth, then closed it again. He'd planning it in his head the entire way here, repeated the words over and over in his head, but his mind had gone blank. Just say it, he told himself, frustrated at his own hesitance. I'm gay. He just had to say it. It wasn't difficult. He'd said it to Hale, and these two were his best friends. He could tell them anything and he knew they wouldn't judge him.

So why couldn't he just say it?

Brooks took a deep breath and ignored the racing of his heart. "I'm...I'm gay."

There.

He'd done it.

There was a beat of silence. Brooks couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from the table cloth, which he'd been staring at so intently he probably could have drawn the exact shape of the coffee stain in his sleep. His pulse was going far too fast, making him feel a little lightheaded, and for a terrible moment he thought he was going to pass out.

"Okay," Hassan said, sounding as unconcerned as if Brooks had just informed him they lived in England. "And I'm a Muslim. So?"

Brooks finally looked up to stare at him. "W-what?"

"Hassan," Calla hissed, and she kicked him under the table this time. The smile she turned on Brooks was kind and sympathetic. "Brooks, we already knew that."

"You...you did?"

"Well, we kind of always suspected," Calla shrugged, stirring her latte with a thoughtful expression. "I don't know, it was more of a hunch than anything. You never showed much interest in girls, and you got flustered whenever either of us mentioned that a guy could be considered attractive. We're around you enough for it to be a dead giveaway."

Brooks blinked and glanced at Hassan, who simply nodded his agreement. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest at the absolute lack of reaction he was receiving for what he worried would have been the biggest confession he'd ever have to make. And maybe it still was the biggest confession of his life, and always would be, but it suddenly didn't feel quite so scary.

"Oh," Brooks mumbled. "So you don't...I mean, you guys don't mind?"

"Mind?" Calla looked incredulous. "Why the hell would we mind? You're still you, Brooks, the awesome person we befriended six years ago. That's not changing regardless of who you do or don't like."

The relief was so overwhelming he had to close his eyes. He'd known they wouldn't have been cruel about it but there'd still always been a small part of him that couldn't shake the fear, and it was that part which had stopped him telling them for so long. It did a little to ease his relentless headache and loosen the tight knots his stomach had twisted themselves into.

"Wait, what about Bellamy?" Brooks asked, his eyes snapping open. "Did you not think...?"

"That she was a cover?" Hassan rolled his eyes at the mention of his favourite person. "Well, no shit. She was all the more reason to believe you were gay. No straight guy in their right mind would be willing to date her, as far as I'm concerned."

"Oh," Brooks said, imagining how badly Bellamy would react if she ever heard that. "Fair enough."

"And that's all you wanted to tell us?" Hassan asked, looking unconvinced. "That you're gay?"

In fact, Brooks had been planning on telling them that Reed had kissed him, but something made him hesitate. As much as he may have disliked Reed as as a person, Brooks wouldn't out anyone against their will, not even to Calla or Hassan. Brooks didn't know what was going on with Reed, or why he'd done what he'd done, but there was no mistaking the frenzied panic in his eyes right after the kiss. The panic of someone who'd lost a secret before they were ready.

"Yeah," Brooks said. "That was all."