"Wait a minute — Roman Alonso did what?"

Fletcher was seated on the ground, looking like a five-year-old with his legs spread out, while Sam paced back and forth. In a Tuesday afternoon, Fletcher and Sam wouldn't usually stay in after school, especially when Fletcher had another History test to study for, but the circumstances were different today. Fletcher could tell by the way Sam was acting all day. He kept zoning out, his eyes distant like he wasn't even there, then someone — Fletcher, Noor, or even Gabriella — would call out his name and he'd blink and act as if nothing happened.

But, of course, something did happen. Something always happens. It was just a matter of asking — caring enough to ask — whether what that something was.

Which is exactly what Fletcher did.

Though, the first time Fletcher asked, Sam didn't immediately respond and when he did, Sam shrugged and said everything was alright. It took four more attempts until Sam finally told Fletcher what was going on. And so, they went to the Top Courts because, apparently, that's where they go now when they have to discuss something serious.

"He apologised to me," Sam repeated. His hair was wilder than usual, curls sticking out at different angles from continuous running his hand down his locks. Sam, at his moment, was the picture-perfect definition of a boy troubled and anxious. "For everything. He asked for my forgiveness."

"And what did you say?"

Sam stopped in his tracks. "I told him no. I couldn't forgive him."

"Damn right."

"But the thing is," Sam said. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"What do you mean?" Fletcher asked.

"What he did, I can't stop thinking about it." Sam was back to pacing again. "To be honest, I kind of feel sorry for him."

Fletcher sat up straight and tried to look at his friend in the eye. It was quite hard considering that he was sitting down and Sam was standing up. "And why should you be sorry for him? He's treated you like shit since, what? Freshman year?"

"Sophomore, actually," Sam corrected. Then he went on, "I don't know. It's just what he said — how he said it — and the look on his face when I said I couldn't — it was utterly broken." Sam slowed down his pace, his hands turning into fists. "And a part of me felt bad, you know? Because I know that face — I've caused it before."

On Thea, Fletcher knew, without the words needing to be said. He was familiar with that face too.

"It made me think of her. Just for a second," Sam paused and he stopped again. Then he stared up at the sky, as of hoping that somewhere up there — in heaven maybe, because that's where she belongs — she was staring back at him. Watching. Listening. "And I thought, if Thea could befriend a bloke like Roman Alonse, then must be worth something, right?"

"Maybe," Fletcher said. "Or maybe he's not. Thea always cared about people who didn't deserve it. We know that. Look," Fletcher stood up. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Sam. You don't have to forgive him. You don't have to even acknowledge that he exists. Alonso gave you a reason not to."

"Think about it this way," Fletcher added when Sam didn't respond. "Did you feel bad for being a jerk to me before?"

Sam shook his head. "No. You deserved it."

"Exactly," Fletcher said. "So you especially shouldn't feel bad for someone like Roman Alonso."

"But I forgave you in the end, didn't I?" Sam question. "Even when you didn't ask for it. What makes this any different?"

"I—" Fletcher stopped himself. How was this different? He wasn't a bully like Roman, who would beat up someone just because his friend told him to, but Fletcher was also coward. He ran and he left those behind him — good people like Thea and Sam — hurting them all the same. So, really, what made him any different from Roman Alonso? What made Fletcher Greenly worthy of salvation?

"I don't know," he finally answered. Another second passed then, "I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't forgive me. You had every right. It was your decision to make." Fletcher lifted his head and evened his gaze with Sam's, his honest eyes meeting the other boy's confused ones. "You get to decide what's best for you, Sam, and whatever it is, it's always the right choice. Trust your gut."

Sam was silent, his head bent and gaze calculative. It took a few second before he sighed and laid down on the ground. "I guess that makes sense." Then he looked up at Fletcher and said, "Thanks. You're a decent friend."

Fletcher let out a relieved breath, then snorted and laid down next to Sam. "Well, that'll be the first."

—

It seemed that Sam took Fletcher's advice. The next day, he was calmer and he spoke a lot more during break times (Sam still wasn't a full-on talker, but it was better than shy nods and small responses). And, although this was a good thing, Fletcher was pissed. Pissed on Sam's behalf.

Fletcher couldn't help it — that Roman Alonso was even a worse person than he was, more so to someone he actually cared about. Fletcher hasn't ever felt this kind of feeling before, so he couldn't contain he rage he felt whenever Roman came in sight.

"What an asshole," Fletcher muttered under his breath when he saw Roman pass by on his way to fourth period.

"You're not talking about yourself, are you?" To his side was Gabriella, who now went by Junko, her Doc Marten boots dragging across the pavement. Ever since that fiasco she caused at lunch, Junko had been hanging out with him, Sam, and Noor. She was by their side almost every day and, what made it worse, Junko was so talkative and so clingy. If it wasn't for Noor, who was more accepting of Junko, Fletcher would have kicked her out.

"He must've realised it just now." Noor giggled. She mainly wanted Junko around to tease Fletcher. "Okay, but seriously, what is up with you, Fletcher?"

"Nothing." Fletcher shrugged. "Just the sight of Roman Alonso annoys me."

Junko bit back a laugh. "I never knew you were this petty."

"Can you blame me, though? He treats everyone like they're beneath him, like he's the king of the world or something."

"Okay, you're not completely wrong," Junko admitted. "But its all an act. All these years Roman's spent with Levi and Andrew...it does things, you know?"

Fletcher scowled. "But it's not an excuse to be a jerk." Then, in a much harsher tone, he mumbled, "Who does he think he is? Tormenting people then asking for forgiveness —"

"Wait, this is about Sam?" Noor interrupted.

Fletcher nodded.

Noor's eyes went wide and the playful smile she had on dropped. She looked like she had been hit by something, as if she had come to a sudden realization. "I can't believe he actually did it..."

"What do you mean?" Junko asked.

"Roman came to me for advice the other day," Noor explained. "Said he wanted to join, well, whatever this was, and I told him to talk to Sam first. You know, because they have history..."

"Are you out of your mind?" Fletcher cried out, causing others to look their way. He brushed them off and continued talking, "When it comes to Roman Alonso, the answer is no. It is always no. You guys aren't friends, are you?"

Noor shrugged. "He's not actually that bad."

Fletcher's jaw dropped. "I can't believe this," he said, shaking his head. "After everything he did to Sam —"

"We're not sticking up for him, Fletcher," Junko said seriously. "Roman could be an ass, I get that, but whatever is going on between him and Sam is none of our business —"

"So what, we just let him be?" Fletcher questioned. "How can you two put so much trust in a guy like him?"

"As his friend," Junko began, then grimaced. "Well, sort of, but he was reliable. We were in the same situation, fitting in and all, so we had each other's back. We got each other, so sometimes, he was less of an ass...and a little more human."

"He's complex," Noor added. She turned to Fletcher and a small smile appeared on her lips. "He kind of like you, in a way,

He knew it was supposed to be somewhat of a compliment, but Fletcher wanted to puke.

Fletcher stared at them both, two girls who couldn't be any more different, yet held the same ground. In their faces, he searched for an error — a hint of unertainty in their eyes, a quirk in their lips, redness in their cheeks — but there was nothing. Nothing but genuine sincerity and the utmost truth.

"But what if you're wrong?" Fletcher asked. "What if he's just a plain, mean old prick?"

"People have layers, Fletcher," Noor said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And, sometimes, you just have to give them the benefit of the doubt."

Fletcher sighed, finding himself unable to completely agree. How could he have faith in Roman Alonso? With everything he has done and everything that he is? What is it in him that could possibly be redeemed?

Fletcher didn't know the answer. Nor did Sam, or Junko, or Noor.

The best he could do, really, was to simply look out for his friend.

Junko smiled mischievously at him. "Aw, but isn't it sweet how much Fletcher cares for Sam?"

"He acts all cold on the outside," Noor said. She ruffled Fletcher's hair and smiled just as mischievously as Junko. "But he's a complete softie on the inside."

Fletcher groaned. "Stop it!"

The two girls laughed and teased Fletcher on their way Bio.