Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tuesday, September 13th, 2005 - 7:51pm

Layla tugged at the sleeves of her shirt as she took a left and rounded the corner onto Spruce Street. It was mid-September and fall was starting to make its initial appearance - the time of year where it was warm during the day, but as soon as the sun slipped below the horizon, the air took on a chill that served as an omen of what was soon to follow. She could see and feel the changes in the foliage around her, too. Their natural growth was beginning to slow as they prepared to shed their leaves to conserve energy through the colder months.

Glancing at her cell phone to check the time, she picked up the pace a little to make sure she would arrive at her destination a few minutes early. She was meeting Will for an eight o’ clock dinner at The Paper Lantern. The restaurant was Layla’s favorite, not to mention her and her mom’s go-to takeout spot for years. The two loved Chinese food, and it just so happened to have the most extensive menu of vegetarian fare available to them within a five mile radius. She often ordered out there when her mom was working late and she didn’t care to cook for herself.

Luckily, the restaurant was only a quick fifteen minute walk from her house. It was along this route that the streets of the suburbs began to bleed into the outskirts of the metropolis known as Maxville. Layla never felt unsafe, but she always kept her guard up, just in case, until she could see the dim red glow of the restaurant’s lights through it’s partially-opened blinds. She finally reached the building and, before heading in, stealthily checked out her appearance in the glass of the front door.

Will hadn’t explicitly made this a date. Layla was painfully aware of that fact. However, she couldn’t help but doll herself up for the occasion. She decided to forgo her usual braids, pigtails, or ponytail and instead wore her hair in a half-up, half-down style that looked a bit more mature. Normally she preferred subtle makeup, but tonight she went for a bolder green eyeshadow and glossy pink lip to tie in the floral embroidery on her blouse.

She had never really been one to care about her appearance in front of him this much, especially since she had been friends with him for so long. But ever since the ingress of Gwen Grayson into their lives, a part of her felt like she needed to do something to show Will exactly what he was missing out on. In the back of her mind, however, Layla knew she was fighting a losing battle. Gwen was smart, and beautiful, and a senior, and Layla was just… Layla. How could Will ever begin to see her as more than just a friend when he had the perfect girl practically throwing herself at him?

The hostess led Layla to a booth at the front of the restaurant. She decided to take the seat with her back to the door, so she wouldn’t be compelled to obsessively watch for Will. After requesting a water with lemon and letting the waitress know she would be waiting for someone else’s arrival before ordering dinner, she pondered the events of their first two weeks at Sky High that had brought them to this point.

After Will’s super strength manifested itself during a fight with Warren Peace on Monday and he was transferred to the hero track, it had only taken him a day to start ditching his friends in hero support. His record-breaking performance in Save the Citizen this afternoon only helped to accelerate his popularity. Layla could hardly say she was surprised. She knew that Will was the type of person who wanted to be liked, and who wanted to live up to others’ expectations of him (whether it was his parents’ expectations, or the upperclassmen that had suddenly taken an interest in him).

Although she had tried to play it off as nothing in the moment, she couldn’t help but feel upset with the way he let Gwen’s friends treat her, Zach, Ethan, and Magenta at lunch today. He hadn’t tried to jump in and defend them when Penny insisted that their table was “full” - he just sat there, dumbfounded, clearly not wanting to put his new social status in jeopardy. It felt like a slap to the face - how was this the same Will who over the weekend had told his father, The Commander for heaven’s sake, that he was proud to be a sidekick? But having him offer to make it up to her at dinner tonight was a second chance that Layla was happy to give, especially if she could get in some one-on-one time with him that Gwen hadn’t been able to get.

She sipped on her water and pulled out her phone again. It was ten past eight, and no sign of Will. He was probably on his way right now, just running a little late. No big deal. She apologized to the waitress who had again come around to take her order, assuring her that the person she was waiting on would be here any minute now.

At about eight twenty-five, Layla permitted herself to turn around and glance at the door, just to satisfy her urge to do so. Will still wasn’t here yet, and he hadn’t called or texted to let her know he was going to be late. The waitress had once again stopped at the table, giving her a pointed look that silently said are you ordering something or what?

“Uh, I’ll give him another few minutes,” Layla said softly, slightly embarrassed that this was now the third time she had to ask the woman to try again later. The waitress rolled her eyes and left Layla alone once more.

The longer she sat there, the more it became apparent that Will wasn’t going to come. When the waitress came back a fourth time, Layla smiled apologetically and ordered her usual - vegetable spring rolls with a side of fried rice. She was starving at this point, but she could barely get herself excited for her favorite meal.

Will had never stood her up before. Either he had completely forgotten about their plans, or he deliberately didn’t come... And she couldn’t decide which was worse. No matter what his reason was, clearly he had somewhere better to be tonight.

Layla turned her attention to the white orchids sitting in a vase at the end of the table. Her gloominess got the best of her, and the flowers immediately began to wither and droop under her gaze. She felt bad for the little plant, but knew that as a cutting, it would die soon anyways.

How fitting, Layla thought, Orchids represent love.

Her dinner came eventually, and it tasted delicious as usual, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat much of it. Her appetite, like Will, was nowhere to be found. Layla had resigned to pushing around clumps of cold rice on her plate when a masculine voice interrupted her pity party.

“Still working on that?”

A tall, muscled figure holding a pitcher of water appeared in her peripheral, catching her attention. She studied him for a few seconds until she realized with a slight shock that it was none other than Warren Peace. He looked different, though. His long dark hair was pulled back out of his face, which Layla was now seeing for the first time without his signature scowl.

“Hey,” she said in greeting as a look of recognition flashed in his eyes. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t figure out if she was just a semi-regular customer or if he knew her from somewhere else. After all, he was just a bus boy, not a waiter. How would he know who eats here all the time?

“...Hey,” he replied hesitantly.

“We go to school together,” Layla reminded him in a gentle voice.

Suddenly, Warren remembered exactly where he had seen her before and wished he could turn around and walk right back into the kitchen. His boss had simply told him to get this girl to leave. She had been sitting alone for an hour and a half now and it was nearly closing time. He hadn’t expected to find himself making small talk with… With...

“You’re Stronghold’s friend,” he said, realizing that she was the hippie-looking chick named Layla that followed Stronghold around like a lost puppy dog.

“Yeah…” she admitted sheepishly, averting her gaze toward the window.

“Yeah…” he echoed.

Neither one of them could deny the awkward tension that hung in the air between them. She was clearly close with Stronghold, and he… Well, he had tried to give the guy third-degree burns the other day. Not to mention in the heat of the moment - pun intended - he had threatened Stronghold’s sidekick friends, including her. He remembered how scared she looked when he had turned on them, fists full of flames. He couldn’t understand why she was being friendly with him now when he could have easily roasted her alive then.

Unsure of what else to say to her, Warren defaulted to customer service mode and pointed to her half-eaten meal, “You want me to heat that up for you?”

Layla’s brows shot up at his question, and she glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear them. Leaning in closer, she looked up at him with wide eyes and whispered seriously, “You’re not supposed to use your powers outside of school.”

“I was just gonna stick it in the microwave,” he replied, mimicking the solemn hushed tone she had used.

She relaxed a little and chuckled. Who knew that Warren Peace had a sense of humor?

“Ah… I was supposed to be meeting Will here, but, um…” Layla looked up at him slowly, equal parts lonely and intrigued by the fact that Warren was acting so different than he did at school. He didn’t seem at all like the guy who nearly destroyed the cafeteria. “You wanna sit down?”

Warren gave the dining room a quick once-over. Aside from a couple of other tables, one of which was occupied by the hostess folding napkins, the restaurant was empty.

He knew he probably, no, definitely shouldn’t be doing this. She was Stronghold’s friend, and he hated Stronghold’s guts… Not to mention, he was still on the clock. But the last reason didn’t matter that much.

“I think I can spare a minute,” he said against his better judgement, sliding into the booth opposite the girl. Empathy wasn’t really his strong suit, but deep down inside he felt just a little bit bad for her.

Layla watched as he snapped once, igniting the tip of his left index finger and using it to light the candle sitting on the table. This garnered a shocked yet pleased expression from her, despite her initial objection to him using his powers. She couldn’t help but grin at his antics - it seemed so Warren of him to disregard the rules.

What didn’t seem very Warren of him was how he smiled back at her. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. It made her completely rethink everything she thought she knew about Warren Peace. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps, no one had really given him a chance to be anything else.

Layla didn’t know if it was something about him or just her loneliness after sitting by herself for so long, but she found it surprisingly easy to talk to Warren. He was an attentive listener, and didn’t seem to mind that she babbled on about one thing, got carried away with a different topic, and had to backtrack to where she left off. Where Will would usually start to zone out, he would ask follow up questions. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say… That, or he simply wanted to avoid talking about himself.

“Stronghold stand you up?” he had asked initially, watching her smile fade at the mention of him. She nodded sadly and launched into the story of how she had ended up in this predicament.

A part of Warren felt a smug satisfaction in knowing that Stronghold was indeed the dick he thought he was, but the other part still felt kind of bad for the girl. She didn’t deserve any of what he was doing to her.

“So, what’s your power, anyway?” As much as he enjoyed hearing about how terrible Will Stronghold seemed to be, he decided it would probably be best to change the subject.

“I’m a chlorokinetic,” Layla replied, her mood starting to lift. “I can create and manipulate plants.”

Warren nodded, unsurprised at her answer. Considering how her attire seemed to consist mainly of green and floral prints, he should have anticipated as much.

“And you’re a sidekick?” he looked at her quizzically. Either she was lying, or Boomer had lost his touch.

“No. I’m hero support,” she said with a little laugh. “But I know what you must be thinking. And for the record, I refused to show Coach Boomer my power.”

Ironically, in the same way as Will, Warren questioned, “Why? You could have made hero track with a power like that.”

Layla sighed as she got mentally prepared for him to look at her like she was crazy, then explained, “Because, I just don’t think it’s right to sort us out by how useful our abilities are perceived to be. It just forces us into a dichotomy that elevates one group above the other. If we’re supposed to work together to save the world when we graduate, how is separating us into these two factions going to help? I don’t want to participate in a divisive system like that.”

To her surprise, he made a little noise of approval and responded, “I never thought about it like that before.”

“Most people don’t. As soon as I got my powers when I was five, my mom taught me that they weren’t more or less important than anyone else’s,” she said, picking up one of her previously forgotten spring rolls and taking a bite. “And that just because I got mine already, it didn’t mean I was better than someone who hadn’t yet. I was supposed to keep it a secret from Will so I didn’t make him feel bad. But I tried to drop hints occasionally to see if he’d pick up on it.”

Of course she would circle back around to Stronghold, he thought to himself as he grabbed one of her fortune cookies off the table and cracked it open, tossing half into his mouth. However, he encouraged her to go on since she seemed to be in a much better mood now.

“And did he ever notice?”

“Well… Kind of. I started with little things, like making the daisies in his backyard open and close when we played outside and moving tree branches to block out the sun,” Layla explained animatedly. When Warren didn’t say anything, she continued, “So then there was this time in first grade - you know how you grow lima beans in school? Well, Will could not figure out why mine was growing so quickly, it was driving him crazy. So finally I took mercy on him and told him about my powers… And we’ve been best friends ever since.”

“Hmm…” Warren, now reading between the lines here, asked, “And falling for him, was that before or after the lima beans?”

“...What?” she asked with feigned incredulity. “I am not in love with Will Strong-”

Layla stopped mid-sentence as Warren raised his brows at her, letting her know without words that he saw right through her act.

“Is it that obvious?” she grimaced, realizing now how she just couldn’t help herself but to talk about Will.

“Yeah…”

“Great,” Layla said, feeling mortified. Apparently she didn’t do as good of a job at hiding her crush on Will as she thought she did - especially if Warren Peace could tell. If it was so clear to him, who else around her knew and hadn’t said anything?

She half expected him to poke fun at her or something, but instead he asked with sincerity, “So why don’t you tell him?”

“Well, I was gonna ask him to homecoming, but there’s two problems. He likes somebody else, and she’s perfect,” Layla explained with a faraway look in her eyes.

A pensive expression overtook Warren’s features.

“You know what I think?” he asked her, taking on a serious tone of voice and looking directly into her eyes. “To let true love remain unspoken, is the quickest route to a heavy heart.”

She paused for a moment as she contemplated Warren’s words, thoroughly impressed at the poetic statement. Never in a million years, especially knowing his reputation and all of the talk in the super community surrounding his family, would she have anticipated a conversation with him to go quite like this.

“Wow,” she remarked in a breathy voice, her eyes widening in admiration. “That is really deep.”

“Yeah,” he agreed solemnly. After a moment, he lifted the tiny piece of paper he had been holding and added, “And, your lucky numbers are… Four, sixteen, five, and forty-nine.”

Layla shook her head lightly and laughed at how he had her so easily fooled. All of a sudden, they were interrupted by the voice of an elderly woman - the restaurant’s manager - yelling in Cantonese from the kitchen. Warren, seeming to have understood perfectly, responded in the same language. Layla was astonished by his fluency. It was something else to add to the growing list of things that surprised her about Warren Peace.

“I gotta go,” he said simply, not elaborating on what the woman had yelled to him. He folded up the little paper with her fortune on it, handed it to her, grabbed his pitcher of water and slid out of the booth. “See you around, hippie.”

Layla couldn’t help but grin as she watched him go, still arguing in Cantonese with his boss. After he disappeared into the back of the restaurant, she unfolded the fortune and saw her lucky numbers printed out just as he’d said them aloud. She then flipped it around to read for herself the words he had spoken so elegantly. However, the tiny blue text on the slip of paper actually read:

A person of words and not deeds is like a garden full of weeds.

Puzzled, her eyes darted over the phrase once more. She turned to look at the arch that separated the kitchen from the dining room - she could neither see nor hear Warren anymore.

Layla set down the fortune and took her wallet from her purse, leaving a twenty dollar bill to cover her meal and a tip. It was just about ten o’ clock’ now and her mother was probably starting to worry about her. Halfway to the door, she darted back and plucked her discarded fortune as well as the other unopened cookie from the table, then tossed them into her bag. Stealing one last glance toward the kitchen, she finally made her way to the door and out into the night.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, September 14th, 2005 - 7:45am

When Layla approached Will’s house the following morning, she found that he wasn’t outside waiting for her like he usually was. Since she only lived a couple streets over, they always walked to the bus stop together. It wasn’t a big deal though - he had to show up eventually, or risk missing the only Sky High bus that came to their neighborhood. So she continued on to the corner of Oak Avenue and decided to wait for him there. At least she’d have some more time to figure out exactly how she was going to do what she needed to do.

Thinking back to the conversation she had with Warren last night, she turned the fortune cookie she grabbed from her table around in her hands.

To let true love remain unspoken, is the quickest route to a heavy heart.

It may not have actually been her fortune (and admittedly, her real fortune was also extremely relevant), but it was some very good advice. It seemed so simple in theory; all she had to say was, “Will, I like you as more than just a friend. Do you want to go to homecoming with me?” That was it. Easy-peasy. No need to complicate it or beat around the bush.

But, the more Layla thought about it, the more she realized that it was complicated. What if he said no and it ruined their friendship beyond repair? She didn’t want to lose him completely. No offense to Warren, but that would be an even quicker route to a heavy heart, and it was a route she didn’t want to take.

“Layla!”

Will’s chipper voice stopped her train of thought right in its tracks, and she looked up to see him practically floating over to her.

“You’re not gonna believe what happened to me last night!” he exclaimed with a goofy grin plastered on his face. He glanced down and noticed her outstretched hand, holding the fortune cookie as a reminder of what he forgot. “Oh, I love these!”

Wearing a look of disbelief, she watched as he grabbed the cookie out of her open palm. He tore the wrapper off and, to Layla’s dismay, discarded it on the ground. She picked it up quickly enough to see him take one huge bite out of the fortune cookie, seeming to forget that there was indeed a fortune inside until it was literally in his mouth. Layla cringed slightly as he pulled it out and read it aloud.

“Your loyalties are clear when it comes to friends,” he recited with a smile, the irony lost on him at first until his face fell. “Oh god. Oh… Oh, I totally spaced. I’m sorry, I know you must wanna kill me…”

He looked so adorable when he was flustered; how could she bring herself to be angry when he clearly felt bad about forgetting her? He probably had a lot of rigorous hero-track homework now that zapped his attention, or maybe his parents distracted him with some important family matter.

“Actually, just the opposite,” Layla said, a smile of relief coming over her and giving her the courage she needed to go through with this. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Will asked, relaxed now that he knew Layla wasn’t mad at him.

“Yeah, but you first,” she insisted. It was only fair, since he was the one who initiated the conversation anyways.

“Okay! It’s about homecoming…”

“Really? Me too!” Layla interjected, her eyes lighting up. Maybe she wouldn’t have to ask him after all, because he was going to ask her-

“I’m going with Gwen Grayson!”

Layla’s heart seemed to drop all the way into the pit of her stomach and her extremities went cold. She couldn’t hide the look of utter shock that washed over her as the implication of his statement settled in. He had ditched her last night, left her sitting for hours by herself at the Paper Lantern without so much as a text, to hang out with Gwen.

As if that hadn’t devastated her enough on its own, Will continued, “Can you believe it? Me, a freshman, going with the most amazing girl at Sky High!”

Layla smiled wide, but it didn’t match the wounded expression in her eyes. She mustered up all the fake enthusiasm she could and said, “That’s awesome!”

“I know!” he beamed as the bus finally rolled up, completely ignorant to the hurt she was attempting to hide.

Layla could feel the tears beginning to pool as they climbed aboard, Ron Wilson greeting them before heading to their usual seat in the middle of the bus. She wiped them away quickly as she filed in behind Will, careful to make sure that she looked normal by the time he turned around and plopped down next to the window.

The ride to Sky High went by painfully slow as Will went over the details of his night… How Gwen came over to tutor him and stayed for dinner, how she invited his parents to receive some special award at homecoming, and how she even kissed him on the cheek after he walked her home. They were officially together now, he said proudly. All Layla could do was sit through it and smile politely, offering “oh’s” and “ah’s” at the appropriate moments.

As they were about to touch down on the school grounds, Will exclaimed out of the blue, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot! What’s your homecoming news?”

Layla herself had even forgotten about that. Between trying not to cry and pretending to be happy for him, she hadn’t even thought to come up with something else to say now that her initial plan was redundant.

“I’m going, too,” she stated as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, ready to just drop the subject entirely.

“Really,” Will replied, not convinced that this was the big homecoming news she had made it out to be. “Who with?”

Oh, no.

“...Who with?” Layla asked, her eyes widening in a slight panic. Shoot. Double shoot. That was definitely an oversight on her part.

“Yeah, who asked you?” he reiterated.

“Oh, who asked me,” she repeated with a nervous laugh, buying herself exactly three more seconds as Will looked at her expectantly. Her eyes glossed over as she racked her brain for an eligible date. She blurted out the first name that came to mind, which was…

“Warren Peace.”

The bus landed in front of the school and Layla sprang to her feet, pushing her way to the front without waiting for Will.

On the outside she looked calm, but her mind was racing. Warren Peace? Warren Peace?! How could she be so stupid! It hadn’t even occurred to her until it was too late that she could have said she was going by herself. She didn’t technically need to have a date to go to homecoming. And out of all the guys she could have possibly named at Sky High, she had to choose him? Yeah, he was fresh in her mind from their conversation last night at the restaurant, but surely there could have been a less controversial option… Someone like Larry. Would she realistically go to homecoming with Larry, though? Definitely not. But on the other hand, would she realistically go to homecoming with Warren Peace?

Or, more importantly, would Warren even go to homecoming with her?

She had to figure out that little detail, fast.

“Layla! Layla, slow down!”

Will was hot on her heels as she entered the school and headed in the direction of her locker.

“Warren Peace?!” he practically yelled, finally catching up to her. She really wished he wouldn’t be so loud. People were starting to stare. “You can’t be serious! Layla, the guy’s a psycho, and he’s my biggest enemy! How could you go with him? When did you even start hanging out?”

Layla was beginning to get annoyed with Will. Why did it matter to him who she was supposedly going to homecoming with, now that he was going with the most amazing girl at Sky High?

She whipped around abruptly, causing him to stumble so not to run into her. With an unreadable expression on her face, she answered, “Last night, eight o’ clock, The Paper Lantern.”

Before Will could formulate a response, Layla had powered away and turned the corner, leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway with his mouth agape.

As she shoved the books she would need for her first few classes in her bag, she heard someone walk up on the opposite side of her locker door. For the first time in her life, she hoped it wasn’t Will.

“Sounds like you have some explaining to do,” a monotone female voice said. Layla closed her locker to find Magenta staring at her with her arms crossed over her chest and lips pressed into a thin line.

She sighed, “How much did you hear on the bus?”

“You’re going to homecoming with Warren?” The look of incredulity on her friend’s face told Layla that she was a lot less gullible than Will.

Speaking of Will, she peered over her shoulder to make sure he hadn’t materialized nearby, thankful that his power was super strength and not teleportation. Or worse, invisibility.

“Well, no. Not really,” she admitted hesitantly, garnering a questioning look from Magenta. They started in the direction of their Foundations of Hero Support class. “Will stood me up last night at the Paper Lantern to hang out with Gwen, and not only is he going to homecoming with her, they’re together now.”

Magenta was the only one who Layla had trusted with the knowledge of her feelings for Will. Although she now suspected that Ethan and Zach might know something is up, considering how easy it had been for Warren to figure it out.

“For real? Even though he was the one that made those plans with you? That’s some major douche-y behavior,” Magenta replied, rolling her eyes. She, along with the rest of their group, wasn’t exactly thrilled with Will as of late either. However, her bullshit tolerance was a lot lower than Layla’s. “And where exactly does Warren fit in?”

“Turns out, he works at the Paper Lantern. We talked for a while, and he’s completely different than he is at school. He convinced me to tell Will I have a crush on him and ask him to homecoming, and I almost did, but then Will told me about Gwen this morning,” Layla explained miserably, the heart-crushing feeling from not even an hour ago still fresh. “And on the bus when I said that I was going to homecoming, I didn’t think he’d ask me who I was going with… I panicked, okay? Warren was the first guy that came to mind.”

“So what are you gonna do now?” Magenta asked as they entered Mr. Boy’s classroom, taking their usual seats next to each other. Ethan and Zach wandered in soon after them, conversing animatedly about a new video game that had just come out over the weekend.

“I have no idea, Maj,” Layla whined, burying her face in her hands. “I really got myself into a mess. You should’ve seen the look on Will’s face after I told him.”

“I think he deserves to sweat about it for a while,” Magenta said, reclining back in her chair. “Maybe if he thinks that another guy is interested in you, he’ll come to his senses and see what’s right in front of him.”

Layla’s head snapped up to look at her shapeshifting friend.

“Magenta, that’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“I’m going to make Will jealous… By pretending to date Warren Peace.”

Wednesday, September 14th, 2005 - 12pm

The line for lunch seemed to crawl, which didn’t help Layla’s nerves as she mulled over how to ask a boy to homecoming for the second time today... Although this time, the intention was far less sincere.

Asking this favor of Warren was decidedly much more anxiety-inducing than asking Will to go to homecoming. Will was her best friend, and she generally knew what his potential reactions could have been. Warren, on the other hand, was uncharted territory. One thirty-minute conversation at the restaurant he worked at hardly constituted friendship. Essentially, she didn’t really know him and therefore had no idea how he would react. And what was worse, if things went south this time, she’d have an audience. The only thing she did know for certain - which was currently the only thing she had going for her - was that he probably wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to make Will squirm.

Gripping her lunch tray with a sense of determination, she spotted him alone, buried in a book at his usual table. Sucking in a deep breath, she ignored the erratic thump-thump-thump of her heart while her feet carried her across the room.

Layla’s tray emitted a light tap as she set it down, breaking the bubble of silence that seemed to envelop Warren’s table. The unexpected noise made him look up, and she slid casually into the seat opposite him.

“Hi Warren,” she said cheerily as if this were the most normal thing in the world, like they did this every day.

“...Did I do or say anything last night to make you think this is okay?” he asked as the hippie smiled back at him innocently, seemingly unfazed at his change in attitude between their conversation at the restaurant and now.

It’s not like he particularly disliked sitting with Layla last night. She was fine to talk to and, although she found a way to make the conversation about Stronghold half the time, he didn’t find her overwhelmingly annoying. But this was different. They were at school now, a place where people actually knew about him and his family’s past. He had a reputation to protect… Or live down, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, having her waltz over without a care in the world was not helping him uphold his image.

“Haha you’re so funny,” Layla said in a rush, completely side-stepping his question and continuing on unbothered, “But seriously, you’re never gonna believe what happened. I was just about to ask Will to homecoming when - wouldn’tcha know it - I told him I was going with you instead!”

Warren narrowed his eyes at her in confusion, replying coldly, “I don’t remember that being the plan.”

To his shock (and horror), one of Layla’s sidekick friends - the girl with purple streaks in her hair - plopped down in the seat next to her. She pulled a pen from the rings of her open notebook and, without even addressing Warren, asked, “Hey Layla, you did the history homework?”

The hippie he could handle temporarily, but a second sidekick? Absolutely not.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he accosted her.

Without missing a beat, purple girl gave him an apathetic look and deadpanned, “It’s called sitting.”

“No one sits here but me,” Warren emphasized, turning his accusatory gaze back to Layla. After all, she was the one who invaded his space first.

“Mm-hmm,” purple girl considered his statement indifferently as Layla “ooh-ed” at his threatening tone and giggled to herself.

...Were they mocking him? They should be afraid of him!

Purple girl turned to Layla and continued as if Warren hadn’t said anything, “What’d you get for number four? I wasn’t sure if Tigerman was A, bitten by a radioactive tiger or B, bitten by a regular tiger and then exposed to radiation…”

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, Warren suddenly felt someone slide into the seat to his right.

“Hey, we’re eating at Warren’s table now?! I feel extremely dangerous!”

He turned to find another one of Layla’s sidekick friends, the short guy with the glasses, sitting uncomfortably close to him.

“Whoa, whoa-”

“This guy bothering you, Magenta?” another male voice said. In his distraction, Warren didn’t even notice that the tall, obnoxious blonde kid Layla was friends with had rounded out their group and was now sitting on his left. He was surrounded by sidekicks.

“Try the other way around,” Warren said through gritted teeth. In a sarcastic tone, he added, “Does anyone else need a date for homecoming?”

The kid with the glasses raised his hand unironically. All of a sudden, Layla burst out laughing as if Warren had just said the funniest thing she’d ever heard. He quickly found that she wasn’t even looking at him, though. He followed her gaze over to…

Stronghold, walking by the table with Gwen Grayson and Penny Lent.

“Warren, you are craaa-zy,” she exclaimed, putting on a fake smile as Stronghold eyed them, clearly perturbed.

A look of perplexity crossed his face as he glanced from Layla to Will, who had turned to stare over his shoulder briefly, then back to Layla.

“Please, I promise I’ll make this as painless as possible,” she begged once she made sure that Will was out of earshot. Warren instantly put two and two together.

“So, you’re not doing this just ‘cuz you like me or anything. You’re doing this to get to Stronghold,” he said, verbalizing what she had been too reluctant to say herself.

“...Yeah,” she admitted quietly.

Here it comes, she thought, bracing herself for rejection. He’s gonna say no. This was such a stupid idea, I should have just told Will the truth-

“Then I’m in,” Warren said, grinning. Layla’s brows shot up in surprise - it really had been that easy.

Warren’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, being replaced by his usual angry glower as he leaned in ever so slightly towards her.

“...But I’m not renting a tux.”

Before Layla had a chance to thank him, Warren stood up and grabbed his belongings, making sure to hit Zach’s shoulder with his bag on the way out. Ethan immediately slid over to fill his vacated seat.

“Hey, if Warren’s not here, is this still the tough guy table?”

Chapter Text

Thursday, September 15th - 7:52am

The bus home yesterday afternoon had been painfully uncomfortable. Layla and Will, stuck sitting together after their friends paired off already, only managed to say two words to each other for the entire duration of the ride: “hi” and “bye.” Layla had been afraid that any other form of conversation would have resulted in disaster.

As she headed to the corner of Oak Avenue by herself, Layla couldn’t help but wrestle with her own conscience. She had lost sleep over it last night; the back-and-forth in her head over whether or not this plan was a good idea had kept her tossing and turning. A part of her did feel bad about lying to Will, and she figured that the metaphorical wall suddenly built between them was some kind of instant karma for it. But she was in too deep to back out now. She’d gotten Warren involved. Not to mention that when the guilt started to build up, a little voice in the back of her head reminded her of why she decided to go through with it in the first place. She’d think about Will with Gwen, together while she sat alone and forgotten about at the Paper Lantern, and she could feel her chest tighten as if thick vines were constricting her ribcage.

Will was already at the bus stop. He spotted her and slowly raised his hand in a cautious wave.

“Hey,” she greeted nonchalantly as she came to stand a couple feet away. Layla knew that the least she could do at the moment was be civil. Angry or not, she still deeply cared about him.

“Hey,” he replied. One corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile, highlighting his stupid, endearing little dimple. Layla couldn’t help but soften her gaze momentarily.

“So… How are things with Gwen?”

“Good. Uh, really good. We’re going to see a movie this weekend. How’s Warren?”

“Good.”

They stood in silence for a while until Will piped up in earnest, his eyes barely able to meet her’s.

“Look, I’m sorry for freaking out on you yesterday about you going to homecoming with Warren… But Layla, I don’t like it.”

Well, I don’t like that you forgot about your friends as soon as you were switched to hero track. Or that you stood up your best friend of eight years to be with a girl you met two weeks ago, Layla desperately wanted to say. But she bit her tongue. She knew better than to argue when she was upset. Hurt people hurt people, her mother would say, followed up by some anecdote about being the bigger person and not using words as weapons. It was just one of the many life lessons Jenny Williams impressed upon her only child after the divorce.

When Layla didn’t say anything, Will continued.

“I really don’t like it. I mean, you were there on Monday in the cafeteria. You saw what happened,” he shook his head, glancing at the pavement. “I guess I’m just shocked, you know?”

Layla couldn’t believe it. Her plan seemed to be working.

Playing dumb, she asked, “Shocked about what? That someone might be interested in asking me to homecoming?”

“Shocked that you would even consider going with someone like Warren,” Will shifted his weight anxiously, fixing his gaze on something off in the distance. “We’re talking about a guy who’s on the fast track to be voted Most Likely to Become a Supervillian-”

“How can you say that? You don’t know the real Warren,” Layla countered, crossing her arms defensively.

Like she even knew the real Warren.

“The real Warren is dangerous, Layla,” Will warned as the bus arrived.

“There’s more to him than what you see at school,” Layla said simply, brushing past Will to step onto the bus first.

At least from what she could tell, that statement was the truth.

Thursday, September 15th - 12:03pm

Warren was beginning to regret his decision to go along with Layla’s plan.

Sure, the chance to get under Stronghold’s skin without landing himself in detention had appealed to him. His mother had been pretty upset with him after getting that phone call from Principal Powers, and he didn’t want to disappoint her again. But it seemed like the hippie had a different definition of the word painless than he did.

For the second day in a row, he found her sitting across from him uninvited, greeting him with a smile and a jovial hello. According to her, Stronghold kept throwing them pained glances from across the room, much to Gwen’s annoyance. He didn’t need to take his eyes off the pages of his book to know that other students were also starting to notice her presence at his table - he could hear the murmurs, could practically feel their eyes like sharp knives stuck into his back.

“Is she stupid? Peace is a psycho…”

“I didn’t even know he talked to anyone at all, let alone a sidekick…”

“She better be careful, otherwise he’ll try to set her on fire next. Is she not scared of him?”

Apparently, Layla could hear them too.

“Ignore them,” she said, as if he hadn’t spent his first two years at Sky High doing just that. “They’re being so rude.”

“They’re right though,” he replied coolly, his gaze still focused on the words printed in the worn paperback he held in front of him. “You should be scared of me.”

”But I’m not,” Layla said simply, shoving a fork full of lettuce into her mouth.

Warren supposed that was his own fault - he let his guard down with her on Tuesday night and now he was suffering the consequences. To be fair, he didn’t think he would talk to her ever again after that, seeing as their paths had absolutely no reason to intersect under normal circumstances. But like your typical garden weed, she had wormed her way into his life and taken root there. She wouldn’t be easy to get rid of.

“You do know I could incinerate this entire table in less than thirty seconds if I wanted to, right?” Warren reminded her, absentmindedly taking a bite of his own lunch.

Layla rolled her eyes lightly at him.

“Oh come on, you’re not all bad. I know that the Warren I talked to at the Paper Lantern is in there somewhere,” she said, searching his face for any sign of friendliness like he had shown the other night. Instead, she got his usual stone cold stare. Layla glanced around to make sure no one was listening in too intently before leaning toward him to continue. “But if you really want to keep up the tough guy act, you probably shouldn’t be reading Keats in the middle of the cafeteria.”

Warren could feel the heat rise in his face. He immediately shoved the book in his bag, doing everything in his power to hide the embarrassed scowl that threatened to play across his lips.

“It’s for an assignment,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Maybe I’d believe that if this was a regular high school, but we don’t study poetry at Sky High,” Layla gave him a wry smile. “If it means anything to you though, I think English Romantic poetry is pretty great. The use of nature allusions is really insightful.”

Warren pressed his thumb and middle finger to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and hoping the hippie would disappear if he counted backwards from three… Two… One…

When he opened them again, she was still sitting in front of him, munching on her salad and staring back at him with a kind-hearted look that none of his peers had ever given him before.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“...This. I already agreed to your plan to make Stronghold jealous. I said I’d take you to homecoming. Isn’t that enough?”

“Well…” Layla started slowly, dropping her gaze to her lunch tray and staring like the lettuce was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “I kind of need Will to think we’re, um, dating… So that means sitting together. And me stopping by your locker in the hero wing occasionally. It’s on the other side of the hall and down a little from Will’s, right? Because it’s alphabetical-”

“Look, if I’d have known there’d be terms and conditions, I would have said no,” Warren growled. Her lips pressed into the smallest of frowns.

“So far the only condition is that you aren’t renting a tux. Which is fine by me.”

“You know what I meant.”

She sighed, spearing some fruit with her fork.

“If we’re fake-dating, it needs to look convincing,” Layla said matter-of-factly. ”What kind of girlfriend wouldn’t sit with her boyfriend at lunch?”

“The fake kind,” he replied, heavily emphasizing the word.

“Well if I can't sit with you because I’m your fake girlfriend, what about as your friend? Friends sit with each other at lunch.”

“Friends?” Warren asked, the word rolling off of his tongue as if it was completely foreign to him. In a way, Layla figured it was. “In case you haven’t noticed, hippie, I don’t play well with others. I don’t have friends. And I like it that way.”

“I have a hard time believing that. You did sit down with me at the Paper Lantern, after all...”

Out of the corner of his eye, Warren saw the guy who dressed in fluorescent yellow heading in the direction of the table, followed by Magenta and the kid with glasses.

“Yo Layla, Warren!” the walking, talking highlighter called out to them in greeting. “What up?”

Warren groaned, “We’re really doing this again?”

Layla gave him a pleading look and said, “Give them a chance. Please? You might like having friends.”

Her insistence seemed to have little effect on him. He rose abruptly, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his partially-eaten lunch.

“I’ll take a rain check,” he grumbled. “Bye, hippie.”

Thursday, September 15th - 1:10pm

After donning their matching Sky High athletic outfits, Layla and Magenta made their way into the gymnasium, scouring the packed stands for Ethan and Zach. The crowd was already buzzing - Save the Citizen, held with the entire school in attendance every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, was a favorite among the majority of the student body. Layla, however, wasn’t as enthused as her peers. In fact, during the first week of school she had been terrified of getting chosen to participate. Refusing to fight and receiving an F was more appealing than compromising her beliefs, but she quickly learned that she wouldn’t have to worry. Sidekicks almost never got picked.

Layla likened the event to a normal high school’s football games, especially since Sky High didn’t have a football team like a non-super high school did. The heroes were the jocks, and the sidekicks were… Well, everyone else.

In that same context, today’s Save the Citizen was like the homecoming game. Everyone was a little more energized and excited than usual. Will and Warren, the most unlikely duo, were set to defend their record-breaking win from Tuesday.

“I’m hoping I’m wrong, but I think they just got lucky last time,” Magenta said as they climbed up the steps, making their way to the empty seats their friends had saved them. If there was ever anyone to give a reality check, it was Maj. “They had no strategy, barely worked as a team, and Will has only had his powers for a few days now.”

“But at least this time, they can choose who they’re going up against,” Layla reminded her in an optimistic tone. “That should give them some kind of advantage. Right?”

“We’ll see.”

“I hope they pick me,” Zach chimed in, clasping his hands together in anticipation. “Once they face Zach Attack, they won’t even know what hit ‘em, man-”

A dubious look from Magenta and Ethan stopped him mid-sentence.

“Uh, I mean, I’d go easy on ‘em… Wouldn’t wanna embarrass Will or anything…”

As Will and Warren donned the school’s standard-issue armor, Layla spotted Gwen a few rows below her, sitting next to Penny and others from their usual group. She wiggled her fingers daintily at Will and blew him a kiss. Will, cheeks turning a light shade of pink, beamed at her and did the same. He didn’t even seem to notice his sidekick friends sitting just beyond her.

Warren had witnessed the exchange as well, scoffing as he followed Will’s line of sight back to Gwen. His eyes then incidentally met Layla’s.

Seizing her chance, Layla gave an exaggerated, toothy grin and waved wildly at Warren. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement, then quickly put it down in an effort to not draw too much attention to himself. Layla was relieved to see him playing along, even just a little bit. And just as she hoped… Will had noticed. With his brows furled, his attention flickered to her. She gave him a little thumbs up and a much smaller smile before Coach Boomer finally blew his whistle to begin.

“Stronghold, Hothead! Heroes or villains?” he barked from his seat overlooking the gym floor.

Will swallowed hard and glanced at Warren, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Uh… Heroes?” he answered for both of them.

“Well, that makes one of you at least… Choose your opponents,” Coach Boomer directed, scribbling on his clipboard when Will spoke up again for both himself and Warren. He decided on Gwen’s friend Abigail Hale, who could control weather, and their freshman classmate Dustin Klein, who had impressed Boomer during power placement when he morphed into his doppelganger.

Once Abigail and Dustin were suited up, Boomer put three minutes on the clock and blew his whistle. A wooden mannequin was then lowered halfway over the literal death trap built into the floor, spinning with razor-sharp spikes ready to tear the dummy to shreds. Layla thought the entire mechanism was barbaric and excessive.

“Three, two, one… Battle!”

Warren’s fists immediately burst into flames. He didn’t wait for Will to make a move before winding up to throw a fireball at Dustin. But before he could launch one, Abigail raised a hand, causing a mass of dark clouds to accumulate directly over him. A clap of thunder shook the building, causing the students in the stands to jump in surprise. Warren turned his head upward just as the clouds began to douse him in a heavy downpour.

The rain subdued Warren’s fire on contact and steam rose up from his hands. He was soaked from head to toe within seconds, his long hair flattened and now sticking to his face. Cursing as most of the spectators laughed at his expense, he tried to re-ignite himself repeatedly to no avail. Every small flame he could produce was instantly put out by the unrelenting storm. He tried to quickly move out from under its shadow, but slipped in the water that had now pooled on the floor.

“Stronghold, stop standing around and do something!” he growled at Will, who was watching the scene unfold with a bewildered expression. Clearly, he had underestimated Abigail’s powers. Will snapped his attention away from Warren’s personal thunderstorm and charged toward the hanging mannequin, intent on ending this as soon as possible. But Abigail suddenly changed tactics. She lowered her hand, making the rain over Warren disappear. Opening both palms, a thick fog began to materialize, soon covering the entire floor in a white haze about six feet high.

Layla tried to spot Will somewhere, but it was nearly impossible. All four students seemed to have disappeared. After about fifteen seconds, the fog began to settle.

“Warren, over here!” Will called out. He had ended up on the opposite side of the court. Layla could see him through a little break in the fog, waving to get Warren’s attention.

“What? I’m right here,” another voice that sounded like Will yelled. He stepped into view, looking bewildered.

From her seat on the bleachers, Layla couldn’t tell which was the real Will. They looked and sounded exactly the same. And if she couldn’t figure out which one was actually her friend, she knew Warren probably couldn’t either.

Warren seized up the identical Strongholds, trying to find some clue that might give away who was the imposter. The situation was almost as ironic as it was infuriating - it was bad enough he was stuck doing Save the Citizen with Will, soaking wet because of his choice in opponent, and now there were two of him... Like the world really needed another Will Stronghold. Furthermore, his gym grade depended on figuring out which was the real one.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m Will!” the first Will insisted, taking a step forward. Warren’s fists ignited once more, ready to throw flames at both Strongholds if that’s what it took to end this round.

“Oh, yeah?” the second Will retorted, yanking an obstacle - a mailbox - out of the floor and launching it through the air effortlessly, as if it were made of cardboard. “Then catch!”

The now obviously fake Will Stronghold ducked as the mailbox sailed over his head, clanging onto the floor somewhere behind him. Dustin could clone well, but his power had limitations. The resemblance to Will only ran skin-deep - he couldn’t replicate the other person’s powers.

Warren sent a myriad of fireballs flying as Dustin morphed back into himself. He was barely able to dodge them, with one singeing the sleeve of his t-shirt. The rest landed on the ground, blackening the wooden floorboards beneath his feet.

Layla was beginning to doubt Will and Warren’s chances of another win. By now, half of the allotted time had ticked away, and quite frankly, Abigail seemed too good at harnessing her power for them to overcome her… And she was about to attempt her most ambitious attack yet.

Closing her eyes, she reached both hands out in front of her, concentrating hard. Strong gusts of wind began to circulate throughout the gym, despite there being no windows open. It rippled through the students’ hair and made Coach Boomer clutch at his baseball cap, then began to spin closer and closer together until it formed a modest-sized visible tornado that touched down on the floor.

Layla, along with the other students, gasped audibly at the sight. Will and Warren’s eyes widened, and even Abigail seemed taken aback at her own abilities. The wind continued to whip, the noise now making it hard to hear anything. But Layla could just barely make out Abigail yelling desperately to Dustin.

“I can’t control it!” she shouted, trying and failing to direct the tornado’s movements. It seemed to have a mind of it’s own. It turned quickly, carving a path toward where she and Dustin were standing and trapping them into a corner.

Will and Warren glanced at each other, and Warren nodded toward the mannequin that was getting lower by the second. Taking advantage of their opponents’ mistake seemed to be their only option. With thirty seconds left on the clock, they ran over to the “citizen” hanging from the ceiling. Will lifted up Warren like he weighed next to nothing, and Warren was able to successfully sear through the rope to retrieve the mannequin.

By the time Coach Boomer had blown his whistle and declared the heroes the winners, Abigail had finally been able to calm down the winds and stop the tornado before it got too out of hand. The students in the stands had broken out in cheers and applause - and Will was eating it up. He pumped a fist in the air as chants of “Will, Will, Will!” echoed throughout the gym, initiated by Gwen. Warren shook his head in mild disgust, tossing the mannequin to the ground and walking away from the center of the court.

“But Warren helped, too,” Ethan said, still politely applauding his friend.

“What did I tell you,” Magenta shook her head lightly. “They got lucky. If Abby hadn’t lost control of her power, they would have gotten destroyed.”

Layla nodded solemnly in agreement with her friends. Maj was right - they were lucky. Will had bitten off more than he could chew by choosing to go up against Abigail. And Ethan had a point, too. It wasn’t fair to Warren that the crowd was only celebrating Will.

After their close call, Will was more careful about picking opponents, allowing him and Warren to go another four rounds undefeated until the period was over. He looked bolder and more confident after each win, heavily playing up the crowd’s chanting and cheering as Warren watched, unamused. Layla was happy they were doing well, but something felt off. Will didn’t normally act like this, and it was unsettling to her.

As the students filed out of the gym, Layla, Magenta, Ethan, and Zach tried to find Will to congratulate him. But the heroes had surrounded him, relishing in the fact that he was now the first ever freshman with a winning streak in Save the Citizen.

“Will!” Layla called out from behind him, trying to get his attention.

“Over here, man!” Zach said.

Will glanced back, giving the sidekicks a smile and a wave until Gwen and her friends stole his attention once again. He didn’t even try to break away to come talk to them.

Layla shook her head in disappointment, opening her mouth to say something about how he’d barely acknowledged them at all today when Magenta elbowed her in the side.

“Hothead at twelve o’ clock,” she announced, pointing just up the hall to Warren’s brooding figure attempting to break through a throng of unaware, slow-walking students. “Go!”

Before she even knew what was happening, Magenta gave her a gentle shove forward. She used the momentum to push past Will’s posse of heroes, weaving between other groups until she caught up to him.

“Hey Warren, you did a great job today!” she exclaimed with a smile, falling into step beside him. She noticed that his hair was still partially damp from Abigail’s thunderstorm during the first round of Save the Citizen.

“I don’t deserve that much credit. It was all Stronghold,” he said in a sarcastic tone, foregoing any pleasantries and keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.

Layla looked over her shoulder at Will, who was still encircled by the upperclassmen heroes. His smile faltered as he noticed her now walking away with Warren, and she quickly turned back around.

“For what it’s worth, we thought that everyone cheering only for Will wasn’t fair,” Layla said, motioning to her group of friends behind them. “I’m sorry.”

Warren chuckled humorlessly, “Don’t be. I might just throw the first round next Tuesday so I don’t have to play sidekick to Stronghold anymore… No offense or anything.”

“None taken. I chose the sidekick life, remember?”

“Oh, right. Forgot that’s your way of going against the system.”

“Yeah…”

The two walked in silence until they came to the hallway junction where they’d split up to go to their respective lockers.

“Well… See you tomorrow?” Layla asked Warren before they went their separate ways. She got only a shrug in return, and then he was gone. Magenta found her, and they continued on to the hero support wing with Zach and Ethan trailing behind them.

“Maj, this is harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted to her friend. How was she supposed to convince Will that her and Warren were actually together if he didn’t even seem to want to be around her?

“Uh, did you see the way Will was glaring at Warren? You’re doing something right,” Magenta assured her.

“Really?” Layla asked, her voice hopeful.

“Really. You’d think he just witnessed someone kick a puppy.”

Layla winced at the mental image.

“But he’ll catch on eventually if Warren keeps ditching me during lunch,” she sighed.

“How about me, Zach, and Ethan hang back at our old table tomorrow?” Magenta suggested. “It’s not exactly a secret that he hates having the rest of us there, anyways.”

“I don’t want you guys to feel like I’m abandoning you, though,” Layla insisted. “In a roundabout way, I’d be doing the same thing to you that Will is doing to us and-”

Magenta silenced Layla with a look, saying, “You’re not abandoning us if I’m the one suggesting it.”

“...I guess you’re right,” Layla admitted in resignation.

“When am I not?” Magenta asked hypothetically as they stopped at her locker. “This is only temporary, anyways. Once you get Will to see that he belongs with you and not Gwen, it won’t be an issue.”

Temporary. Layla hadn’t really thought about how long this might have to go on before Will came around. Ideally, it would happen sooner than later. But what if it didn’t? Homecoming was exactly a month from today. What if the dance came and went and Will was still dating Gwen? She was sure that Warren wouldn’t put up with her plan much longer than that. At some point, she just might have to give up.

No, she decided. She would make this work, somehow.

Chapter Text

Friday, September 16th, 2005 - 12:06pm

Warren, running later than usual for lunch, stopped dead in his tracks on his way into the cafeteria and grumbled to himself. The hippie was already sitting at his table, holding a book open in one hand and an apple in the other. He looked around for an unoccupied table anywhere else, sighing in defeat as he realized there were none to be found.

He had to commend her - the girl certainly was persistent. She truly was like a garden weed… No matter how much you tried to pull it out, it just kept coming back. At the very least, it looked like her friends wouldn’t be joining them today. They were sitting a few rows away at the table they had occupied since the first day of school.

...Not that Warren kept track of it or anything.

As he navigated his way through the room, the murmurs started up again. They were just loud enough for him to hear bits and pieces, but it was impossible to discern one complete sentence. Like yesterday, they had less to do with the usual topic of his parentage and more to do with the redhead he had agreed to take to homecoming.

Warren was used to the gossiping and sideways glances from his peers, his teachers, and pretty much everyone else in the super community. That’s just what happened when your father was Barron Battle. He had accepted the alienation that came with it, and learned to live with the fact that his genealogy would define his existence and forever leave him with a target on his back. However, he was not used to being the center of the rumor mill for something like this.

He absolutely hated it.

As he accepted his fate and sat down opposite her, Layla tore her attention away from the book for a mere moment to glance up at him. She gave a welcoming smile, then quickly returned to her literature while taking a bite of her apple. There was no hello, no small talk. Just silence.

Warren eyed her suspiciously. It didn’t seem typical for her to have nothing to say. Nevertheless, he pulled out his own book and settled in for the period, a part of him relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with a plethora of sidekicks invading his personal space today. But another, smaller part of him was unnerved at Layla’s behavior. How hadn’t she said anything to him yet?

It took almost the entire lunch period for him to get through most of a section, and Warren couldn’t have recalled a single detail if he’d been asked. For whatever stupid unknown reason, he was too busy thinking about Layla’s lack of conversation to pay attention to the words printed on the page in front of him.

After he had scanned the same line for what seemed like the fiftieth time without actually absorbing it, he turned his gaze to her and the book in her hand. It was slightly outdated, and the cover depicted a creepy-looking yellow flower illustration with a face - definitely something right up her alley.

He loudly closed his book and cast it to the side, but she didn’t flinch. Was this some kind of reverse psychology trick? Or was she simply trying not to be overbearingly friendly around him after he voiced his displeasure yesterday?

Warren did not understand her.

“...What’s that about?” he inquired, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he finally cracked under the weight of the silence at their table.

“Hmm?” she hummed, still not looking away from her book.

“The Secret Life of Plants?”

“Oh… The author did a bunch of experiments trying to prove that plants are sentient and have feelings. Among other things.”

“Oh.”

She went back to reading in silence for a moment until Warren couldn’t help but satisfy his own curiosity.

“So do they?” he asked, loathing how she had somehow gotten him to initiate conversation by doing absolutely nothing.

Layla lowered the paperback just enough for her to peer over the top of the pages at him, finally noticing that in a slight improvement to his tough guy image he had ditched his copy of the complete works of John Keats for Shakespeare’s Hamlet. She lifted an eyebrow at his question.

“Do they what?”

“Have feelings.”

Layla closed the book and set it down next to her lunch tray, drumming the tips of her shiny green fingernails on the cover thoughtfully.

“Not exactly,” she started, trying to figure out the simplest way to explain it. “Plants are a lot less complicated than people. They don’t have thoughts, feelings, or emotions the same way humans do. It’s more of like… An energy. Or an aura.”

Warren simply blinked at her, and Layla couldn’t tell if he was just confused or uninterested in hearing more.

“There’s really not much nuance - either it’s good, or it’s bad,” she continued despite not getting a response. “I can feel it when I’m around them. It’s like a sixth sense for me, I guess. And it’s also why I don’t feel guilty being a vegetarian. Plants are alive, just not sentient.”

“Okay… So if you know this guy is obviously wrong, why are you reading his book?” Warren asked, sounding almost critical.

She shrugged, grabbing for the last couple of pretzels in the bag on her tray, “It’s intriguing.”

Yep, he did not get this girl. At all.

“It’s junk science, that’s what it is,” Warren dismissed the book in a disparaging tone, grabbing for his bag and lunch tray. The period was practically over and he wanted to leave before everyone else, like he always did, but his window of opportunity was quickly closing. The bell would ring any minute.

Layla chuckled lightly, unbothered, and said, “You’re right. But it’s very entertaining junk science.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said in place of a farewell as he quickly made his escape.

Layla let out a light sigh of relief as she watched him leave. Her decision to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible seemed to pay off - Warren had sat with her through almost an entire lunch period. And he had initiated a conversation with her in a room full of their peers. Now that was what she liked to call progress.

Her eyes darted back to the seat he had just vacated and she noticed his copy of Hamlet still sitting on the table where he had tossed it. She made to yell after him, but he was already out of earshot. The sudden, shrill ringing sound of the bell would have drowned out her voice anyways.

Layla gingerly picked up the book and slid it into her messenger bag. Not a problem, she thought, she’d simply find Warren later and return it to him before the day was over.

“So Warren will sit with you for fifty minutes, but can’t walk you to your next class?” Magenta had materialized at the table, with Ethan and Zach by her side.

“We haven’t quite gotten there yet,” Layla said, getting up and following them out of the cafeteria. “Baby steps.”

She threw a look over her shoulder as she walked, scanning the hallway for Will. He was several paces behind them, hand-in-hand with Gwen, a lovesick smile on his face. Had he even noticed her with Warren today? Now that the initial shock has probably worn off, did he even care?

Shuffling on, she tried to convince herself that a small part of him still did.

Friday, September 16th, 2005 - 2:31pm

Layla softly closed her locker door after making sure all of the books she’d need for this weekend’s homework were securely in her bag. Sandwiched between them was Warren’s copy of Hamlet. Despite her best efforts to find him before and after their last class of the day, he had somehow managed to evade her, even though she had lingered at his locker for a few minutes before eventually heading to her own. She didn’t want to annoy him further. She just wanted to do the right thing. But a nagging thought in the back of her head suggested that maybe he didn’t want to be found.

“Hey, Layla!”

The familiar, yet unexpected voice made her turn around abruptly. Will, gripping the strap of his bookbag, was hurrying toward her with a purpose.

“Hey,” she grinned as she noticed that Gwen was nowhere to be seen. “How are you?”

“I have a question for you,” he said hastily, slightly out of breath. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from her locker. “But let’s walk and talk so we don’t miss the bus. My mom would be so mad if she had to come pick me up and fly me home herself.”

Looks like she definitely wouldn’t be catching Warren before they both left for the weekend.

“A question?” Layla repeated in a hesitant voice as he dropped her wrist, and she followed him down the hall in the direction of the exit. The last time he had sprung something on her like this, he had told her that he was going to homecoming with Gwen. His urgency wasn’t exactly putting her at ease, either.

“Yeah! Which movie would you rather see: Underclassman, Just Like Heaven, or The Dukes of Hazzard?” he asked, eyeing her expectantly.

“What… What do you mean?” she stammered, blinking in disbelief. Was he asking her out on a date? It seemed too good to be true. “I… When?”

Will held the door open for her and smiled apologetically.

“I, uh… I don’t know what movie to see with Gwen this weekend,” he explained, laughing nervously. “I wasn’t sure which one she’d like the most, and I thought that maybe a girl’s opinion would be helpful. And then I thought - oh, Layla’s a girl, why not ask her?”

Layla paused at the top of the steps, her shoulders slumping as she exhaled the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. She couldn’t believe how stupid she was to not only think that Will was insinuating they go on a date, but to also forget that he’d told her he was going to see a movie with Gwen this weekend. A weird mixture of embarrassment and hurt bubbled up inside of her.

“Oh…” she breathed, swallowing hard. “I don’t think Gwen and I would have the same taste in movies. Sorry.”

She started to make her way down the steps to the waiting bus, but Will kept pace with her.

“If you had to pick one, though?” he looked at her with his innocent, puppy-dog eyes that had made her fall for him.

“Uh, Just Like Heaven,” Layla answered, smiling at Ron Wilson as they boarded the bus. “The Dukes of Hazzard is too… Crude.”

She plopped down in a seat toward the back of the bus, and to her surprise, Will sat with her.

“Huh. I thought that one might be funny. But I guess Just Like Heaven would be better for a date,” he mused, giving her a lopsided grin. “Thanks!”

“No problem,” Layla nodded, trying to sound genuine although she was practically screaming on the inside. Knowing that Will was going on a date with a girl that wasn’t her definitely sucked, but it sucked even more being the friend giving him dating advice. And it really sucked that all of Will’s dissatisfaction surrounding her and Warren’s “relationship” had seemingly evaporated into thin air at an alarmingly fast rate.

Yeah, no problem except for that it should be me going with you, she thought to herself as she waved at Ethan, Zach, and Magenta, who sat down in the seats directly in front of them. Soon after, they had rocketed off the edge of the school and down in the direction of the world below them.

“So what are you doing this weekend? Anything fun planned?” Will asked tentatively in an attempt to make conversation.

Layla was flabbergasted, doing everything in her power to keep a straight face. She couldn’t fathom that he was even asking her those questions, because tomorrow was her birthday. Surely, he wouldn’t forget about his best friend’s birthday. Right?

“Well, I’m hanging out with Maj, Zach, and Ethan tomorrow,” she said, waiting to see if Will would remember the significance of September seventeenth. They’d been friends for eight years now - she shouldn’t have to remind him that her birthday was coming up. “And going out to dinner with my mom…”

Will’s face lit up as if someone had switched on a light in his brain.

“Oh, that reminds me!” he exclaimed, looking at her with the wide eyes of someone who had just remembered something important.

The corners of Layla’s mouth twitched upward in relief, of course he wouldn’t forget her birthday-

“Gwen told the funniest story about her and Abigail the other night when she came over for dinner and I’ve been meaning to tell you, you’re really gonna laugh when you hear this…”

Layla shifted uncomfortably in her seat as he launched into some narrative about Gwen and Abigail getting stuck on the side of the road. She played with the fringes of her bag as he spoke, only half-listening, and wondered if the Will sitting next to her was really still the same Will that rode the bus with her to Sky High for the first time just a few short weeks ago.

Friday, September 16th, 2005 - 9:53pm

It was yet another end of another shift on another busy Friday night at the Paper Lantern. Warren couldn’t for the life of him understand why this place was so popular. The food wasn’t even that good. Regardless, the restaurant doing well helped to keep a roof over his head, and he was at least grateful for that.

Sometimes, as he was clearing tables and washing dishes, he wondered what his life would be like if he didn’t need to work to help his mom make ends meet. How would he have spent his evening if he wasn’t stuck being a busboy for as many hours as he was legally allowed to at sixteen? Any normal teenager would almost certainly be hanging out with their friends. But considering Warren didn’t have any of those, he found it difficult to answer that hypothetical question.

Tonight, he also had to struggle to explain this concept to his boss.

“Warren, qīn'ài de, you work so much. Why don’t you ever ask for a night off?” Mrs. Wong questioned as she approached him at the sink, where he was drying the evening’s last load of dishes. “Don’t you want to hang out with friends like all the other teenagers do?”

He sighed, “I don’t exactly have friends to-”

“Nonsense! That girl you sat with on Tuesday, she’s your friend, no?” Mrs. Wong asked with one brow raised.

“No, she’s not my friend,” Warren said firmly, placing the last few clean plates and pieces of silverware into their dedicated spots.

Just my fake girlfriend, he thought with a small eye-roll. Now that Mrs. Wong had brought up the subject, it also occurred to him that he needed to request off the night of homecoming. Begrudgingly.

“Well you sat with her for a long time,” she reminded him. Of course she would bring that up - she had not been happy to find him sitting instead of working.

Before he could come up with another rebuttal, the faint ringing of the bell attached to the front door made Mrs. Wong grumble irritably.

“No more orders, we close in five minutes,” she complained, shaking her head.

“I’ll take care of it,” Warren immediately volunteered. Anything to get out of talking to his boss about why he didn’t have any friends. Quickly untying the apron around his waist and throwing it over his shoulder, he made his way out to the dining room to break the news to whatever sick people had decided to show up to a restaurant with less than five minutes before close. But instead of walking out to see some annoying group of teenagers, or a couple trying to get last-minute takeout, he found himself approaching the head of red hair who he’d last seen in the cafeteria that afternoon.

Speak of the devil.

Layla, still in the same flowery outfit she had worn to school that day, gave him a little wave as she spotted him.

“You do know we close at ten tonight, right hippie?” Warren asked, despite his doubts that she had come here for Chinese food.

“Yep! I happen to be familiar with the Paper Lantern’s hours of business,” she said, smiling up at him semi-apologetically.

“And right now…” Warren glanced over at the clock on the wall. “It’s nine fifty-six.”

Layla flipped open her messenger bag, pulled out a book, and presented it to him unceremoniously.

“You forgot this at lunch today,” she said, holding out his copy of Hamlet. A lime green sticky note with Layla written in loopy handwriting, along with a seven-digit number, was placed on the center of the cover. “I figured you might want to finish it over the weekend… I was gonna text you to let you know I had it, but then I remembered that I don’t have your number. And you don’t have my number. So I thought I’d come and give it to you just in case.”

Even in the dim red glow of the restaurant, Warren could see her cheeks turning slightly pink as he gazed down at her.

“Oh. Thanks,” he said in an even voice, taking the book from her gently.

He didn’t really know what else to say. It’s not like people regularly performed random acts of kindness for him. He simply stared at her, wondering why she would go out of her way to do something so small yet thoughtful for him while he was so cold to her. In the grand scheme of things, this book he left behind was unimportant.

Almost instantaneously, and just for a fleeting moment, Warren felt something. He supposed it was gratitude or appreciation or whatever, but it was also colored with another feeling he just couldn’t place. However, he made it a point to banish the feelings back to wherever they came from. Layla quietly clearing her throat also helped to snap him out of it.

“You’re welcome. Um… I should probably head home now. Have a good night.”

She turned to leave, but his voice made her freeze.

“Wait, you walked here by yourself? At night?” Warren asked, bemused. Either this girl was seriously naive, or she just didn’t have any regard for her own personal safety. Thinking back to how she tried standing up to him with the other sidekicks the day he and Will destroyed the cafeteria, he was willing to bet it was a little bit of both.

She nodded, jabbing her finger in the direction she was about to go, “Yeah, I do it all the time. I only live about fifteen minutes away. It’s not too far.”

“I could, uh, walk you home,” he offered, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. He immediately regretted opening his stupid mouth - she had decided to come here by herself, it wasn’t technically his responsibility to make sure she got home safe. Yet, he knew what his mom would say if she found out that he had let a girl he knew walk around Maxville alone after dark.

...But his mom would never find out about this. Or her. Or her asinine fake-dating scheme.

Layla’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

“Well…” she squeaked out.

“You came all the way here to give me this,” he said, motioning to his book, somehow unable to stop the words from coming out. “So I guess it would only be, um, nice…”

Nice? Who was he?! What the hell was he doing? He was certainly going soft, and he’d have to address that with himself later.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to, Warren,” Layla reassured, gazing at him with wide eyes. The thought of him seeing where she lived seemed so strange.

“Just, uh. Wait right here,” Warren said, quickly making his way back to the kitchen. He tossed his apron into the bin with the rest of the dirty linens, grabbed his old leather jacket off the employee coat rack, and poked his head into the office where Mrs. Wong was now counting down the money from the register.

“Yes, Warren?” she asked, not looking up from the stack of dollar bills she was sorting into piles.

“Um, Mrs. Wong, can I… Have the night off on October fifteenth?”

The older woman lifted her head to look at him, a slow and satisfied smile spreading across her face, “Certainly, qīn'ài de. Now go walk that sweet girl home.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Wong,” Warren exhaled with a sigh. She was far too nosy for his liking. Without sparing another moment, he slipped his jacket over his shoulders as he went back out to find Layla still waiting patiently for him by the door.

“Alright hippie, you lead the way. Not like I know where you live.”

He followed her out of the restaurant as she led him in the direction of her house, but she held back and matched her stride with his. They walked next to each other in silence until Layla spoke up.

“So, you like reading the classics?” she asked, referring to the Shakespeare novel in his hand.

He shrugged indifferently, “I guess. I don’t know. I read whatever.”

“Oh, well, I like reading them, too,” Layla said, hoping he’d act like the Warren from Tuesday at the restaurant instead of the Warren at school. “When I’m not reading about plants.”

They fell silent once again, Layla leading them around a corner and down a tree-lined street filled with stereotypical suburban houses. Houses with normal families whose kids weren’t social pariahs, and fathers weren’t in prison serving quadruple life sentences. Warren pondered what it would have been like to grow up in one of them.

“Hamlet is my favorite,” he announced out of the blue, making Layla jump slightly after becoming accustomed to the quiet between them. He didn’t really know why he wanted to tell her this little stupid detail about himself in the first place - he just did. “There’s something about a morally ambiguous character wanting to avenge his father that seems to hit a little close to home for me.”

“Oh. Hmm,” Layla hummed, taking in this information. “I see. But if my memory serves me correctly, there isn’t exactly a happy ending. No matter what Hamlet does or doesn’t do, everyone dies.”

“Yeah. Which begs the question…” Warren went on, finally glancing down at her to see her brows furrowed contemplatively. “Does anything we do really even matter, or are we all just victims of fate?”

Layla, impressed once again with his intellect, suspected that he wasn’t only talking about the book. The realization made her a little bit sad.

“Warren Peace, you are… Very perceptive,” she said with a tiny smile, seeming to choose her words with precision. Her eyes held his with a look of pure sincerity. “That’s a compliment. I could never talk about books and stuff with my other friends. Especially not Will, he doesn’t really get it. And for what it’s worth, I like to think we do have the power to change our fate.”

It didn’t surprise him that Layla would respond with such optimism - nor did it surprise him that Stronghold had just about as much depth as a kiddie pool. A part of Warren really wanted to believe that her outlook on changing one’s fate was true. But even if it were, he would have no idea how to go about doing so. He would always be Warren Peace, Most Likely to Become a Supervillian.

Sensing the need for a change of subject, Layla asked, “Do you live around here, too?”

“In this neighborhood? Hah, not even in my dreams, hippie,” Warren shook his head, finding it ironic how he had been thinking about that very idea a few moments ago. “Mrs. Wong isn’t just my boss. She’s also my landlord. My mom and I live in the apartment above the Paper Lantern.”

As soon as the sentence left his lips, the regret instantly sank to the pit of his stomach and settled there like an anchor. Not a single soul from school knew about his living situation, but now… Now a sidekick, who probably lived in a house that was everyone’s white-picket-fence American dream with her perfect happy family, knew that he and his mother lived in a shitty two-bedroom above an equally shitty Chinese restaurant. He wished he could take back those words even more than he wished he wouldn’t have suggested walking her home.

“What? Oh Warren, I’m sorry…” Layla started, and he knew what would come next. He didn’t want any pity from her about this, or from anyone really, but most definitely not her. He was already mortified enough about his oversharing as it was.

But to his surprise, he got no pity.

“You’re going all out of your way to walk me home when you live right there! You could be at home in bed already,” she said, looking distraught. “I should have just waited and gone to the restaurant during the day or something and now you won’t be home ‘til well after ten-thirty when you’ve been working all evening-”

“Hippie, relax. It’s fine,” Warren grumbled, secretly relieved but also irritated by her fretting.

“But you didn’t have to-”

“Sure, I didn’t have to. But I wan… Felt obligated to.”

Layla had stopped abruptly at a two-story house with white siding and a porch that spanned the width of the front. There was greenery to spare around the yard - shrubs lining a stone pathway to the porch, a variety of flowers, and a classic oak tree that partially obscured the second floor with its foliage. A white hatchback sat in the driveway, meaning that someone was inside.

“Um. This is home,” Layla said awkwardly, gazing at him for a moment before making her way down the stone path and up the porch stairs. She paused at the top of the steps and turned around to address him one more time. “Thanks again. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Well… What are friends for, I guess,” Warren said with a shrug. A wide grin spread slowly across Layla’s face, and the feeling from earlier that he had suppressed began to creep slowly back up to the surface. Is this what friendship was, he wondered? A warm little feeling caused by people doing nice things for you, and you doing nice things for them in return? It sounded exhausting.

“Goodnight, Warren,” Layla said sweetly, tugging open the front door lightly. “Have a safe walk home.”

“‘Night, hippie,” he gave a small, singular wave as she disappeared inside.

Before turning around to retrace his steps to the Paper Lantern, he glanced down at his copy of Hamlet. The green sticky note with Layla’s name and number seemed almost fluorescent against the dark image of the cover, reminiscent of her sidekick friend who only wore bright yellow clothes. What was his name? Zach something-or-other? He didn’t really care what her friends’ names were to be honest.

Warren supposed that he should try to care, though. Because it was becoming apparent that he was now one of them.

Chapter Text

Friday, September 16th, 2005 - 11:04pm

In the midst of dealing with Layla’s surprise appearance at the Paper Lantern, walking her home, and trying to come to terms with the fact that he had - in the span of a few days - developed some kind of camaraderie with her, Warren had completely forgotten about one very important thing. In fact, it didn’t even occur to him until the restaurant had re-appeared in his line of sight. The lights in the dining room were now turned off, along with the sign hanging over the front door. His eyes traveled upward, toward the only source of light coming from the building… The windows of the apartment directly above it.

Shit.

His mother was awake, waiting for him.

He had taken his time walking home, glancing down too often at the name and phone number on the sticky note. Thinking, thinking, thinking. What did Layla see in him other than a way to make Stronghold jealous? Did she actually want to be his friend? Or was this friendliness just a byproduct of proximity - she’s stuck hanging around with him for the time being; he’s doing her a favor so she might as well be nice, right? Why did he feel so compelled to trust her all of a sudden?

Warren had to be real with himself here. It was likely that once she got what she wanted… Who she wanted… He’d be kicked to the curb. Just as forgotten about by her as he was by the man he called his father.

He needed to stop letting his guard down for her.

Somewhere along the way, he had made a wrong turn. Or three. All the suburban streets looked the same in the dark. By the time he made it to the side door leading up to the apartment, it was after eleven o’ clock according to his cell phone. There were also a handful of missed calls from his mom, none of which he knew about due to his habit of keeping the volume on silent at all times. Why would he not? He could count the number of people ever trying to reach him on one hand.

He tread lightly up the steps to the second-floor landing, imagining what his mother would have to say to him. She wasn’t exactly a helicopter, but she did worry about him for obvious reasons. Warren could tell even though she did her best to hide it. But despite the whole supervillain-for-a-father thing and inadvertently setting the school cafeteria on fire, he really wasn’t the type to act out. He’d never even gotten detention before this week. Now, he was casually walking through the door, unannounced, an hour after his shift ended. Not quite the type of behavior that would inspire confidence in the fact that he totally wasn’t starting a rebellious streak.

After all, it’s not like he had to go very far between the place he hung up his apron in the back of the restaurant and the place he hung his jacket at home.

There was no sense in continuing to try to make a stealthy entrance. She would know exactly when he walked through the threshold regardless. Taking a deep breath, Warren opened the door to the apartment and stepped inside. He wasn’t even able to shuffle off his shoes or jacket before his mom descended upon him.

“Warren,” she started in a stern voice. She was clad in her pajamas and reading glasses, and her dark hair was draped over her shoulder in a singular long braid. Clearly, she had been ready to go to bed for a while. “Your shift ended over an hour ago. When you didn’t come home at your usual time and I didn’t hear anything from you, I called Mrs. Wong to ask her if she had you stay late tonight, but she said that you left with a girl?”

Warren breathed a heavy sigh. Leave it to his boss to rat him out. He had never planned to tell his mom about Layla; it would be far too complicated to explain the situation. But he couldn’t lie to her… At least not completely.

She looked at him expectantly with brows raised, one hand resting on her hip and the other clutching a cup of tea, “Who is this girl, Warren?”

“She’s just a friend from school, mom, I was walking her home. I left a book at lunch and she came to the restaurant to give it back-”

“A friend?” his mom interjected, her voice as well as her expression immediately softening. She was just as aware of his social status as the rest of the super community seemed to be. “You never told me about making a friend. Who is it?”

Warren groaned inwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. If it were anyone else he was having this conversation with, it would feel almost patronizing. He hesitated, then replied, “Her name is Layla. Layla Williams.”

Immediately his mother’s face lit up. Gone was any notion of her previous parental disappointment - she seemed oddly happy. Elated, even.

“Layla Williams? Is that Jenny Williams’ daughter?” she blabbered excitedly. “Jenny’s a vet down at the animal hospital, we went to Sky High together! Of course she had a different last name back then, before getting married and all. Hero class of eighty-three. Such a kind soul, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Quite literally - she can talk to animals. Went inactive a couple years after graduation…”

Suddenly, Layla’s vegetarianism made a whole lot of sense. Warren stood awkwardly as his mom gushed over Layla’s mother and how they were friendly in high school, unsure of how or if he should interrupt her monologue. What was he supposed to say? Not like it mattered, he thought. It wasn’t like he could get a word in edgewise.

“Oh, I’m happy you made a friend. If Layla is anything like her mom I’m sure she’s a sweetheart,” Warren’s mother drained the remainder of her tea into the sink and left the mug to be washed tomorrow. With a yawn, she made her way over to him, getting up on her toes to place a quick peck on her son’s cheek. “Goodnight, dear. Make sure you turn out the lights before you go to bed.”

Warren watched her retreat to the hallway. He stood motionless and dumbfounded even after he heard the door to her bedroom close.

So… He wasn’t in trouble? Just like that?

Blinking himself out of it, he left his shoes by the door and turned out the remaining lights as he’d been asked before heading to his own bedroom to sleep off this bizarre week.

Saturday, September 17th, 2005 - 9:12am

Layla woke to the smell of something burning.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she quickly sat upright in her bed as the smell registered. After throwing off her covers and donning her fuzzy green slippers out of habit, she raced downstairs to find her mother in the kitchen. In one hand was a spatula, and in the other was their house phone. A pan, just out of sight behind her back, sat on the stove with what looked to be a pancake turning darker by the second. A thin line of smoke rising off of it indicated clearly to Layla that this was indeed causing the burning smell.

“Mom! Mom!” she yelled, waving to get her mother’s attention.

Her mom smiled at her, the receiver still pressed against her ear, “Hang on a second Barb, my daughter just woke up. Good morning sweetie-”

“Mom, the stove!”

Jenny Williams turned around, the phone cord wrapping around her torso as she did so, finally spotting what her daughter was fussing about.

“Oh!” she squeaked, trying to untangle herself while simultaneously removing the pan from the flames. “Ugh, we need to get a cordless. Barb, I’m gonna have to call you back, I’m burning breakfast…”

Her mother turned off the burner and put the phone back into its cradle, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Layla. I can’t believe I got so distracted like that… Work call,” she smiled sheepishly, setting the now useless spatula down on the counter. She moved to hold her daughter in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head. “Happy birthday, sweetie. I can’t believe you’re fifteen already. How is my baby all grown up?”

Layla grinned at her mom as they pulled away, but her smile faded as soon as Jenny turned back to the blackened pancake still in the pan on the stove. It was those two words - work call - that gave her a tiny sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew what would come next, and she was sure she wouldn’t like it. When anyone from the animal hospital called on her days off, her mother would inevitably end up going into work for most of the day.

“What was the work call about?” Layla probed tentatively, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and moving to the fridge to pour herself some orange juice. She sat down at their small dining table as her mom sighed, scraping the burnt blob of a pancake into the garbage.

“Oh, it’s just terrible, honey… Barb was telling me how the local shelter just rescued twelve cats from an abandoned house on the other side of the city this morning. Twelve! Can you believe that?” she shook her head in disbelief, clicking her tongue before continuing, “They’re in bad shape. They need me down at the animal hospital all day to help with intake, checking vitals, bloodwork, not to mention any emergency care…”

And there it was. Layla’s shoulders slumped as she took in the news. She couldn’t do much to hide her disappointed expression other than by taking a sip of her juice. A part of her hated how upset she felt. There were tiny creatures suffering, she thought, and she had the audacity to wish her mother would spend time with her rather than helping them? But another part of her still longed for her mother to just this once, on her birthday no less, put her only child ahead of saving animal-kind.

It was a fine line to walk. No wonder the relationship between her parents was already becoming strained before she came into the picture.

“So you won’t be back in time to go out for dinner?” Layla asked, watching as her mom spooned a fresh batch of batter into the pan.

Her mother shook her head no, her ponytail of red hair that she passed down to her daughter swishing with the movement. It was quiet for a moment before she gave a definitive answer.

“I don’t think so, Layla. I’m so sorry sweetie,” she frowned, gazing down at Layla with a real look of regret coloring her expression. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later this week. Do you want your gift now, or do you want me to wait until then?”

Layla forced an understanding half-smile, “Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Okay. Oh, I just feel awful,” her mom brought over a short stack of fluffy, non-burned pancakes, placing them in front of Layla along with a bottle of maple syrup she had gotten from the farmer’s market. And then, out of seemingly nowhere, “That reminds me!”

Her mother grabbed a stack of mail from the other side of the counter, flicking through them until she landed on a light pink envelope.

“Your father sent a card.”

Layla took the envelope from her mother, glancing at the outside. Her father’s thin, all-capitalized handwriting listed “DANIEL WILLIAMS” above the return address somewhere in Philadelphia - so close, yet so far. It seemed oddly impersonal, but she wasn’t surprised. These birthday cards were the only consistent form of communication Layla had gotten from him in the last few years since she started middle school. He used to call weekly, but weekly turned into monthly, and monthly became less and less until it eventually tapered down into nothing at all.

She hesitated, almost not wanting to open it. It wasn’t out of resentment or anything; she held no anger towards her father for what he did, despite how easy it would be. Neither did her mother, who Layla knew always wished he would come back - it has been almost a decade and she still kept his last name. It was more or less because she knew that it would be a tiny reminder of the family life she could have had. The contents would be the same as the previous year, and the year before that, and the year before that: a hastily written message along with forty dollars folded up between some typical Hallmark sayings. But no amount of twenty dollar bills stuffed into birthday cards would ever make up for the fact that he wasn’t here anymore. She supposed she should feel lucky he remembered to send something in the first place.

Without further delay, Layla gently tore open the envelope to find a card with a giant number sixteen printed on the front, surrounded by tiny pink flowers.

“He’s getting a little ahead of himself there, huh,” her mother commented on her father’s obvious mistake, trying to find some kind of humor in the situation. Layla nodded and bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from showing just how upset it made her.

She opened it up and just as she expected, two crisp twenties fluttered out of the card and landed just shy of her syrup-laden pancakes. Underneath the cheesy lines printed on the inside, her father wrote: “Happy Sweet Sixteen, Layla! Come visit as soon as you get your driver’s license. Love Dad, Lori, Jacob, and Joshua.”

The irony of that statement was not lost on her - he had a car and obviously could drive, but hasn’t found the time to come see her in Maxville since she was eight. Apparently it was her job to take the time out of her life to go to Philadelphia instead of the other way around.

Even if she was getting her driver’s license, Layla thought, she still wouldn’t go visit him. Admitting it to herself made her sad, but she knew it was for the best.

She hadn’t realized her mother was still watching her until she cleared her throat lightly and said, “Well, I better get ready to go into work. Want me to leave you some money to order out for dinner? Otherwise there’s leftover pasta from last night in the fridge.”

Layla met her mother’s gaze and gave her a reassuring smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“It’s alright,” she said, picking up the twenty dollar bills from her father. “Looks like dinner is on Dad tonight.”

Saturday, September 17th, 2005 - 6:47pm

Layla really hadn’t planned to go to The Paper Lantern twice in the same week.

Technically, she realized, it was three times if her stopping by for a few minutes last night counted toward her running total. However, unlike the previous night she was here for dinner, she ordered her usual shortly after being seated in the far corner of the restaurant. It was a busy Saturday evening - nearly every table was packed with families, groups of friends, couples… It didn’t do anything but exacerbate the lonely feeling that had slowly crept upon her after returning from her outing with Ethan, Zach, and Maj.

They’d gone to a cute little frozen yogurt shop near Ethan’s house that gave you a free small cup with two different toppings on your birthday.

“Wait, so if I came in and it wasn’t actually my birthday but I told them that it was, would I still get a free froyo?” Zach had asked. He’d topped his chocolate frozen yogurt with almost every candy option in the shop, plus brownie and cookie dough pieces.

“You’re such a dork,” Magenta replied, taking a bite of her own cookies-and-cream creation. “That’s not only lying, it’s also stealing.”

“But that is a valid question,” Ethan said as he mixed in his Reese’s Pieces so that every bite would have the perfect amount. “How would they know? They didn’t ask Layla to prove it.”

Being with them had put a real smile on her face. Yet she still couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. That someone was missing…

The day was almost over now and she hadn’t heard from Will at all. Not a call, not a text. Nothing. It was a far cry from last year, when they had spent the better part of the day together.

Layla was the oldest of her friends, and always the oldest in her grade. Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold had convinced her mother to wait and register her for pre-school with Will, so they could stick together all the way from elementary school through their senior year at Sky High. She wondered if their parents had ever anticipated their friendship falling apart as easily as it seemed to be now.

She certainly knew she hadn’t expected it to come to this.

Despite the restaurant being as crowded as it was, her food came quickly so she didn’t have to dwell on her thoughts for long. However, the full plate in front of her didn’t completely stop her from wondering if Will would remember her on her birthday before the night was over. As she checked her phone for what felt like the millionth time in between bites to see if he had reached out to her, the newly-familiar voice she’d secretly been hoping to hear ever since she sat down brought her back to reality.

“You know, hippie, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were stalking me or something.”

Warren looked just the same as the first night Layla had seen him in the restaurant - with an apron tied around his waist and hair pulled back. He looked more open this way. Friendlier.

She allowed herself to laugh at his comment, “For the record, I don’t actually know your work schedule. Which would make me a terrible stalker.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Well, luckily for you I’m stuck here every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday,” he said, counting off the days on his fingers. “So that’s about a fifty-seven percent chance that you’ll catch me at some point during the week. You’re welcome.”

“...I like those odds,” Layla said, a slow smile overtaking her features. Her words took him by surprise, and Warren could feel his face growing warmer by the second as she continued to gaze at him.

Was he… Blushing?

“So what’s the occasion this time?” he asked in an effort to change the topic, taking it upon himself to climb into the booth opposite her after stealing a quick glance in the direction of the kitchen. Warren looked around at the other people in the restaurant, the walls, her plate, the flames that adorned his wrists as he rested his palms on the surface of the table. Anything but look directly at her. Not when he was sure his face was turning an embarrassing shade of pink. If it was, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“It’s my birthday today,” she said nonchalantly as he finally glimpsed at her, her smile faltering only for a moment.

Warren furrowed his brows, confusion evident on his face, “And you’re spending it by yourself at a Chinese restaurant? Sounds like a shitty birthday to me.”

Layla remained silent for a moment as she dipped the last of her spring rolls into a side of hoisin sauce, then admitted with a shrug, “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight, so… I came here.”

“What about your friends?”

“I went to get frozen yogurt with Magenta, Ethan, and Zach earlier,” she explained between bites.

“Alright then,” he said, still not quite believing how someone with so many people that cared about her would end up alone on the evening of her birthday. “And your family? Your parents? Siblings?”

Layla let out a small sigh at these questions. She knew that Warren definitely wouldn’t be interested in hearing about her family situation. It was way too much to unpack in the middle of a Chinese restaurant, anyways. So she chose her words carefully, giving him a half-truth and omitting the rest. It was easier that way.

“Mom’s working overtime tonight at the animal hospital. Normally I’d spend today with her. Or Will. But obviously that’s not going to happen either,” she looked down sadly at her plate. “He didn’t even wish me a happy birthday today. I think he forgot.”

As Warren could recall, this wouldn’t be the first time that Will had forgotten about her recently. Seeing her look so dejected for the second time this week because of Stronghold made a small part of him want to try setting the guy on fire again on Monday.

“Hang on a second,” he said, abruptly getting up from the booth. A puzzled look swept across Layla’s features as he left. In less than five minutes he had returned, one arm twisted behind his back as if he were concealing something there.

“Close your eyes,” he requested, and Layla complied immediately. She heard Warren slide back into the booth, and then the clink of porcelain being set down on the table. “Okay. Open.”

A small plate with two sugar donuts sat in front of her, with a single green-and-white striped candle protruding from one of them. Much like he did the first night she had spoken to him at the Paper Lantern, Warren lit the candle with a flick of his finger. Layla was practically beaming from ear to ear, as if the gesture had made her whole day. He figured it probably had.

“Warren,” she said, completely struck by his act of kindness. “This is so sweet of you.”

Warren considered himself to be many things, but sweet was not typically among them. It wasn’t a word ever used to describe literally anything about him, but coming from Layla, he really wanted to believe it to be true.

He had no idea what to do with the warm, swelling feeling in his chest as he processed this. It wasn’t unlike the one he experienced last night while walking her home, which he still didn’t have a name for by the way. Whatever it was, he kind of… Liked it. But he would never let the hippie - or anyone else - know that.

Instead, he gave her a shrug, saying, “Least I could do. Don’t expect me to sing to you, though.”

As if right on cue, Mrs. Wong had spotted him from the kitchen and began to yell at him in Cantonese to get back to work. He sighed, standing up and collecting Layla’s mostly empty dishes.

“Don’t forget to make a wish,” he said, nodding at the candle. He lingered just long enough to see her close her eyes again and softly blow out the tiny flame with one gentle puff of air.

Saturday, September 17th, 2005 - 10:16pm

The evening was coming to an end and Layla still hadn’t heard anything from Will. Her mother came home from work carrying a small vanilla birthday cake shortly after she had returned from the Paper Lantern. When she blew out the candles, she wished for the same thing she had wished for at the restaurant.

I just want a text from him. Something to reassure me that he actually cares about me. A sign that I’m doing the right thing and that we’re supposed to end up together. Please.

It was a quarter after ten, and Layla was about to crawl into bed for the night when she heard her cell phone buzz. Her heart leapt into her throat. This was it, she thought. Finally, he remembered.

Immediately she grabbed for the phone, flipping it open to find two unread text messages. However, the sender wasn’t Will.

In fact, she didn’t recognize the number at all.

908-296-6281: Happy bday, hippie.
908-296-6281: Hope it didn’t suck too much.

She couldn’t help but smile.

Outgoing Text: Thx Warren :)

Chapter Text

Monday, September 19th, 2005 - 8:49am

This week, Will had stopped riding the bus with them.

Well, he was still there, just no longer sitting with his sidekick friends. That is, if he even considered them friends anymore. Even the most optimistic part of Layla was beginning to have her doubts.

She had followed him onto the bus at their stop, but took pause when he sat down in the front next to Dustin (who in jest had turned himself into a carbon copy of Will, just as he had done in Save the Citizen last week). She figured she shouldn’t be as shocked by this as she was. But up until now, the ride to and from school was the only time he spent around her, Maj, Ethan, and Zach anymore. He certainly hadn’t made any effort to hang out with them otherwise. Will had also made it a habit to no longer walk over to the bus stop and wait with Layla - instead, he would appear conveniently just as the bus was pulling up.

Almost as if he wanted to spend as little time around her as possible.

As if he wanted to forget that she existed.

Stop catastrophizing, Layla! He’s still your friend, she tried to convince herself.

But friends don’t treat friends this way, the rational part of her brain fought back.

It would have been worse if he hadn’t said two words to her in acknowledgement, but that was the thing… All he had said was exactly two words. Which in retrospect, felt like an afterthought on his part.

“Hi Layla!”

That’s it. A hasty hello over his shoulder as he bounded up the steps at the last minute, stepping in front of her to do so. There was no chit chat, no asking how her weekend was, and certainly no bringing up her birthday.

Layla resigned herself to the back of the bus, as usual, next to Magenta.

“Hey,” she greeted her friend listlessly, her attention still focused on Will. Magenta followed her line of sight over to where the heroes sat. Will seemed to fit in effortlessly now, laughing and joking with them as the bus started to move again.

“What, so he thinks he’s too cool to sit with us on the bus now?” Magenta rolled her eyes, her tone indicating that Will was now on thin ice with her.

Layla gave her a look, “Maj, I doubt that’s the case-”

“I don’t know,” Magenta said with a sigh, her loose space buns bouncing as she shook her head. “With the way he’s been acting lately… Did he even remember your birthday?”

“...No,” Layla quietly admitted, looking down at her feet. “He didn’t even text me or anything.”

“Wow. Eight years of friendship and it took him a week of being a so-called hero to start treating you like a stranger? I mean, I know you’ve known him longer than I have but still. That’s messed up. He’s acting like a jerk.”

Magenta’s words hurt. Not because they were particularly cruel, but because they were true, and deep down inside Layla knew it.

“Layla,” Magenta addressed her. Layla knew Magenta cared about her, but empathy was not something that she showed often, and especially not around groups of people. It’s not like she was heartless - it was just how she was, and Layla accepted her for it. So the serious look in her eyes caught Layla off guard, along with her words that were spoken slowly and concisely. “I’m your friend and I just want you to be happy. And he is not making you happy. It’s not hard to see that.”

“I want to be happy,” Layla said in a soft voice, wistfully looking back at Will.

Maybe it was wrong to let one person dictate her happiness, she thought. Well, not maybe. More like probably. But when Will came around, it would be worth it. All of the hurt would be worth it in the end.

At least Layla hoped.

As they walked from the bus to the school’s entrance, Layla listened half-heartedly to her friends’ conversation around her, but she had no interest in chiming in. Her attention was trained on Will and Gwen - well, the back of their heads - as they met in front of the stairs with a quick peck on the lips and ascended hand-in-hand. It made Layla slightly nauseous. She hated the way jealousy made her feel, but she couldn’t help it.

Then she had an idea.

She picked up the pace and yelled back to Magenta, Ethan, and Zach that she’d see them in class.

The hero wing was buzzing with stories of an eventful weekend - shopping trips, dates, even a party. But some of the animated conversations turned to whispers when the heroes noticed that a sidekick had started down their hallway. Layla ignored them. She was on a mission, and she spotted her target at his locker just a few feet away. He was grabbing the last of his books for his classes as she closed the distance between them.

“Hey Warren,” she greeted him, lightly touching his forearm to get his attention. He wore a black t-shirt with short sleeves for a change, sans leather jacket over the top. His exposed skin felt feverish, and it took Layla by surprise. “Wow, you’re so hot! Um, I mean-”

Warren turned to look down at her and raised a brow, eyeing her as she stammered.

“What I meant to say was… You… Your skin is very warm,” she was finally able to squeak out, a horrified expression overtaking her face.

To be fair, Warren wasn’t exactly bad looking. Different than Will for sure, but in a good way - an edgy way. Layla had never waxed poetic about it, but it had come up briefly in a phone conversation with Magenta last week. Now, whatever mission she had planned to carry out had just been flushed down the metaphorical toilet bowl, because I really just accidentally called Warren hot to his face oh my Gaia why did I do that?!

He nodded simply, sparing her more embarrassment, “Yep. Pyro thing.”

She gave an awkward laugh.

“I wasn't expecting that. Sorry,” Layla fidgeted with the bracelets on her wrists, eyes trained on her shoes. “So…”

“...Let me guess, you want me to walk you to class or something?” Warren asked. Her head snapped up at his offer, a smile forming on her lips. She was glad he suggested it, because after that Freudian slip, she was almost certain he wouldn’t want to be seen with her for at least the rest of the day.

“Yeah, sure! If you don’t mind. I’ve got Foundations of Hero Support with Mr. Boy in room two twenty-five.”

“You know, I wasn’t actually-”

“Please?” she interjected, glancing behind her to see if Will was at his locker. Sure enough, he was, with Gwen and the Pennies surrounding him like some kind of fan club. They would pass right by him.

“Okay,” he conceded, slamming his locker door lightly. “But I am not carrying your books, or your bag.”

“No worries. I wouldn’t ask you to do that, anyways,” Layla grinned in assurance as they set out in the direction of her class. “I never understood why that was a thing. Us girls are perfectly able to carry our own books, thank you very much! We’re not all damsels in distress, you know.”

“I believe it,” Warren said, adding in a low voice as they strolled by Stronghold and his groupies, “Just like how not all guys are knights in shining armor. Sometimes they’re the troll under the bridge.”

Will had done a double take, looking past Gwen and the Pennies as he saw Layla walking side-by-side down the hallway with Warren. She was giggling at something he’d said to her. His heart skipped a beat as suddenly, finally, he remembered.

“Layla!”

The pair paused as he called out her name, turning around in unison. Layla’s pulse quickened. This was exactly what she had hoped would happen, but despite that, she still felt nervous now that she had Will’s undivided attention. Gwen and the Pennies’ disgust as they stared her down was unmistakable.

“Yeah?” she asked in a strangled voice. The word came out much weaker and a lot less confident than she would have liked.

Will smiled to break the ice, “It’s your birthday today, isn’t it? I just wanted to say happy birthday!”

Layla glanced up at Warren, who gave her a knowing look back, before replying, “My birthday was on Saturday. But thanks.”

Will’s face fell, “Oh. I… I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I didn’t-”

“He was busy on Saturday,” Gwen interrupted, putting on an obviously fake sympathetic smile as Will looked over at her. She reached around him to close his locker door and grabbed his hand. “Weren’t you, Will?”

The Pennies did a poor job of stifling their snickers.

He started, “Well, I guess-”

“We have to get to the mad science lab, if you don’t mind,” Gwen said hastily to Layla, pulling her boyfriend away with the now singular Penny trailing behind them. “Buh-bye.”

Layla and Warren watched them go until they rounded the corner of the hallway, only turning to head back in the direction of Layla’s class when the three were out of sight. Warren broke through Layla’s stunned silence.

“She definitely feels threatened by you.”

Layla’s brows shot up in disbelief.

“What? Threatened by me? You’ve got to be joking, Warren,” she said, ignoring the stares they (but mostly Warren) were now getting as they crossed over into the hero support side of the school. “Why would Gwen feel threatened by me?”

“You’ve known Stronghold since you two were practically in diapers, so. There’s that.”

“Yeah, but just because I’ve known him for a long time doesn’t make me a threat,” Layla said, shaking her head.

Warren rolled his eyes lightly, “Were you not best friends with the guy until about a week ago?”

“I still consider him my best friend, it’s just-”

“Point is, you’ve spent a lot of time with him and you know him better than she does. Plus there’s the fact that you’re…” he had the presence of mind to stop himself before he could finish that sentence.

Layla looked at him expectantly, “That I’m what?”

That you’re pretty, Warren wanted to say. It was objective - Layla was a pretty girl. Anyone can see that.

But he didn’t.

“That you’re closer in age to him than she is,” he recovered, keeping his gaze locked on room two twenty-five just down the hall and not daring to meet Layla’s eyes. “A freshman girl dating a freshman guy is a lot more normal than a senior girl dating a freshman guy.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Layla admitted as they approached the door to her classroom. “I just don’t get it, though. She shouldn’t feel threatened. She’s the one that has Will. And she’s perfect.”

“Doubt it. There’s gotta be something wrong with her,” Warren said in an attempt to make Layla feel better, pausing just outside of the classroom. “It’s just that no one has figured out what it is yet. Maybe she doesn’t hold doors open for old people. Or never tips her waiters. I don’t know.”

Layla chuckled, “You’re funny, you know that?”

So according to her, he was sweet and funny. Warren had to be careful, lest it started to go to his head. He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to stop the fluttering sensation filling his chest.

“Well, thanks for walking me to class,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Yep. See you later, hippie,” he replied as she ducked into the classroom. He doubled back to the hero wing, not caring at all that he would be late to his own class.

Tuesday, September 20th, 2005 - 12:05pm

“Hey, Warren. Would it be okay if they joined us today?” Layla asked hesitantly upon walking up to the lunch table with her friends in tow, biting her bottom lip.

Warren’s gaze slid from Layla to the trio behind her, realizing that this was going to happen sooner or later and there was no use in trying to escape the inevitable, “…Fine.”

“Fine?” she repeated in astonishment. She truly hadn’t expected him to agree to having her friends completely take over his table. If publicly fake-dating Layla hadn’t already tanked his reputation, then hanging out with an entire group of sidekicks would certainly do the trick.

“Yeah,” Warren sighed. “Sit down, before I change my mind.”

They wasted no time in getting situated across the table, leaving Layla to take the spot directly to his left.

Warren was suddenly hyper-aware of her presence next to him. Her proximity made his breath hitch in his throat. They’d sat together across the table at lunch before, of course, and at the Paper Lantern too. They’d walked together just this morning, side-by-side, as he took her to her first class again like he had the day before. But there was always a small yet comfortable distance between them. That is, until her gently touching his arm yesterday had sent what felt like a tiny shock through his entire body. Somehow, he’d been able to hide it - like everything else - behind a stoney expression. Now, the only thing that separated her shoulder from his were a few mere centimeters. She felt almost too close to him. For the first time he noticed her perfume, a sweet floral scent that was totally Layla. It seemed to make his mind so thick with static that he couldn’t form a single coherent thought, much less register that he was being spoken to.

Get. A. Grip.

“Warren? Warren, are you listening?”

“Uh-huh.”

The two guys (Zach and Ethan? Or was it Ian?) were chatting away happily. The purple girl, (he forgot her name… Violet?), was sandwiched in the middle of them and looked between Warren and Layla quizzically before turning to her other friends.

“Sorry, you seemed zoned out for a second,” Layla said, starting on her salad. Her elbow brushed against his briefly, sending a chill up his arm. “I realized I forgot to ask, did you get to finish Hamlet this past weekend?”

It was his favorite book, of course he’d finished it. But as of right now he didn’t have a brain cell to spare for Shakespeare.

“Yep.”

Layla furrowed her brow at him, a worried look crossing her face, “Are you sure this is fine?”

Nothing about this - about feeling like this - is fine, Warren thought to himself. What the hell is wrong with me?!

She continued in a quiet voice, almost too quiet to hear over the din of the cafeteria, “If you still don’t feel comfortable with us all sitting here, that’s okay, I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that without asking beforehand. I’m sorry.”

Warren shook his head.

“That’s not the problem,” he said through gritted teeth. Losing his mind because he was sitting next to a girl with nice-smelling perfume… That was the problem. The only reason why said girl was even sitting next to him at all - Stronghold - stole a glance at them from across the cafeteria. Remembering that he’d have to team up with him yet again during Save the Citizen this afternoon, Warren glowered back.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Layla asked earnestly.

No one ever asked him if he wanted to talk about his problems, real or perceived. Not his teachers, not the guidance counselor, not Principal Powers. They had written him off as soon as he stepped foot on campus. Even his mom had stopped trying as soon as he hit middle school.

He looked once again at Layla, an unreadable expression on his face, “I’d rather talk about literally anything else.”

Layla nodded slowly, “Understood. Hmm… I started a new book last night? It’s called The Language of Flowers.”

“The Language of Flowers?” Warren scoffed. “Don’t tell me that this one is trying to prove that plants speak to each other.”

“No, but could you imagine? It’s actually about how in the Victorian era, plants were used to communicate without words. Each one has its own meaning,” Layla explained animatedly. “So people would send bouquets to each other as messages. Kind of like texting. But with flowers! I just think it’s cool.”

Warren couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lit up as she spoke. He wondered if he would ever care about something as much as she cared about plants.

“Yo, Warren!”

He pulled his attention away from Layla and directed his gaze toward the highlighter yellow guy.

Highlighter kid gave him a goofy, lopsided grin like they were the best of friends and launched into a monologue, “So like, not to diss on anyone that you and Will have battled so far, because I totally respect their powers and everything, but if you want a real challenge today I think that you and Will should pick me for Save the Citizen-”

“Zach!” purple girl hissed, elbowing him in the side.

“Absolutely not,” Warren deadpanned.

“Okay, fair enough,” Zach nodded, seeming unphased. “I know you guys wanna keep your winning streak up and everything, I’d feel bad to be the one to ruin it anyways since you know Will is my homeboy…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Warren saw Layla dip her head in a polite attempt to hide a closed-lip smile, fighting to keep from laughing. A part of him wished she’d let it escape, though - because whether he liked it or not, her’s was the only laughter that he wanted to hear more of.

Tuesday, September 20th, 2005 - 2:27pm

Warren, thinking better than to purposefully tank his gym grade out of spite, didn’t end up throwing the first round of Save the Citizen that afternoon. In fact, he and Will won all of their rounds for the third time in a row. For better or for worse, they were unbeatable. It had gotten to the point where their opponents wanted nothing to do with participating, because they knew their efforts would be futile. Needless to say, he couldn’t wait for this unit to be over at the end of the quarter. Having to battle so much was getting to be exhausting, physically and mentally. It certainly didn’t help that his head was not where he needed it to be.

He couldn’t stop thinking about this new feeling that had ambushed him over the past couple of days - like there was a flock of birds thrashing around in his ribcage whenever Layla got a little too close. Or when she laughed. Or when she-

“Warren!”

He sighed internally, “Yeah, hippie?”

She had caught up to him in the hallway on the way from the gym to his locker. Cue the birds.

“Are you working tonight?” she asked, her big brown doe eyes hopeful, then adding, “Oh, and great job during Save the Citizen today, too! New school record!”

“...Right,” he said, contemplating exactly what her motive for asking that question was. “It’s Tuesday, so yeah. I’m working. Why?”

“I was just wondering if your boss would be okay if I sat and did my homework at the restaurant?” she twirled a piece of hair between her fingers absentmindedly as she spoke. “I used to go to Will’s house to study a lot, and I figured being at the Paper Lantern might help me take my mind off of it. The past week has been hard. I can barely concentrate at home.”

Warren shrugged, “I think as long as you buy something she probably wouldn’t care.”

“I can definitely do that,” Layla nodded happily. “Good thing I love Chinese food.”

They had reached his locker, and she hovered near him while he grabbed the books he’d need to complete his own homework somehow... That is, when he wasn’t practically chained to the sink in the back of the house at the Paper Lantern.

“Why do I have to be there, though?” Warren questioned her, brows furrowed. “You realize you can also do homework in other places, right? Like a coffee shop. Or the library. Both of which are probably quieter than a restaurant at dinnertime.”

Layla was silent for a moment.

“Yeah, well… I don’t know. I guess I just enjoy your company,” she said, now twisting around one of her various rings and looking anywhere but at his face. “I like talking to you.”

Warren could feel his heart in his throat. He did his best to swallow it down.

“I can’t do much talking if I’m working, hippie. Not unless I want to keep getting yelled at.”

“I promise I won’t be too distracting,” she pleaded. If only she knew the irony in that statement. He sighed, closing his locker door for the final time that day.

“I’ll sit with you on my dinner break. Deal?”

She grinned, “Deal.”

Chapter Text

Tuesday, September 20th, 2005 - 6:13pm

“Mom?” Layla said timidly as she finished setting the table for the two of them.

Her mother brought their meal - eggplant parmesan - over with a flourish, “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

They took their seats and Layla’s mom dished out portions for them both. It was a rare occasion where they’d actually be able to sit down and have dinner together, which made Layla feel guilty about what she was about to ask. The last thing she wanted to do was come across as not wanting to spend time with her mother.

“Would you mind if, after dinner, I go to the Paper Lantern for a little while?” Layla asked, her eyes glued to her plate as she twirled some pasta around her fork like it required all of her focus. For good measure, she added, “I’m going to bring my homework.”

Her mom chewed thoughtfully over her daughter’s question.

“...I don’t mind, but,” she started, watching Layla intently. The young girl peeked up at her mother, waiting for her to continue. “I have to ask. You seem to be going there a lot recently. Any particular reason why?”

Layla figured her mom would be okay with her going. She had always let her have a pretty high level of independence, knowing her daughter was responsible for her age. But her question caught Layla off guard.

“Oh… I have a friend from school that works there.”

Her mother chuckled, “I see. I was starting to think you hated my cooking. Which friend? I didn’t realize that Will, Ethan, Zach, or Magenta were old enough to get a job yet.”

Layla felt her chest tighten as her mother mentioned Will. There was so much she didn’t know… So much that Layla hadn’t told her since the fight in the cafeteria. But now wasn’t the time to play catch-up with her mom, at least not about her situation with Will. Right now, she was worried about telling her mom that this friend was actually the son of Maxville’s most prolific supervillian.

Just completely normal teenage stuff.

“It’s, uh, actually a new friend you don’t know,” Layla nervously took a bite of her food.

“And that would be?”

“Warren Peace,” Layla murmured, holding her breath and waiting for her mother’s reaction.

“Warren… Peace,” her mother said, annunciating every syllable slowly. “As in…”

Layla couldn’t help the words from spilling out all at once, “Yes mom, that Warren Peace, but I promise promise promise you he is nothing like people make him out to be-”

“As in Karen Peace’s son?”

“I… What?” Layla was wholeheartedly confused. Her mom had never mentioned knowing Warren’s mom.

“Karen and I were in the same class at Sky High, just like Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold. Our lockers were next to each other, with my maiden name being Pearson and all. She was a lovely person, always saw the best in others,” Layla’s mom explained with a smile, next addressing the thing that many in the super community wondered about. “So many people looked down on her when she started dating Barron Battle. I didn’t. I knew from our conversations that she saw something in him that the rest of us refused to see. I figured she thought she could help him, and could turn his outlook around. It’s a shame how things ended up.”

It was quiet for a moment, the clinks of silverware on their plates being the only sound that filled the room.

“So…” Layla started, still processing all of this new information. “You’re okay with me hanging out with Warren, then?”

“Of course I am, hun. If there’s anything I know about Karen, it’s that she’d never raise a son of her’s to be anything but a gentleman, regardless of who his father is,” her mom said matter-of-factly.

Layla thought about how Warren had offered to walk her home on Friday, although he definitely didn’t have to (or seem to actually want to at first). And about how he had gone out of his way to text her happy birthday, something that Will hadn’t even thought to do. And the fact that he’d been willing to sit down with her while he was at work, to listen to her drone on and on about the very person who had not only stood her up that night at the Paper Lantern, but who’s father had put his father in jail. Her mom was right.

Now if only she could quiet the voice in her mind asking herself why she didn’t hold Will to the same standards.

Tuesday, September 20th, 2005 - 8:04pm

Usually, during his half-hour dinner break, Warren would sit by himself in the break room and enjoy thirty minutes of uninterrupted peace and quiet. It was by far the best part of his shift, especially on busy days when the chaos of the kitchen and the swarm of people in the dining room started to get to him. So why, he wondered, was he looking forward to forgoing that tonight to sit at a table across from Layla?

He found her in the corner booth, her textbook and homework packet spread out between a teapot full of jasmine green tea and a plate of half-eaten veggie dumplings. The candle he had lit for her (which he supposed was now becoming something of a tradition) when she got here earlier cast a flickering glow across her features. She closed up the textbook as she saw him approaching, clearing enough space for him to set his meal down.

“I can’t believe you’re able to get any of that done in here,” Warren said as he slid into the bench opposite her, nodding to her homework. It wasn’t a full house tonight, but it had been busy enough for the restaurant to be filled with a handful of competing conversations.

“I’m actually about halfway finished with everything,” Layla grinned. “This is the most productive I’ve been all week. I haven’t even looked at my cell phone once since I’ve been here.”

Warren nodded, starting on his dinner, “That’s good, I guess. Mrs. Wong doesn’t seem to care that you’re still here, either. Hasn’t said anything to me… Not yet at least.”

“Good, I would hate to get you in trouble with your boss again.”

“Yeah. If you did, I might just have to fake-break-up with you.”

Layla laughed, and Warren took a bite of his lo mein to keep a smile from slipping through. The fluttering feeling from this afternoon returned in full force, this time filling his stomach. And it certainly wasn’t related at all to the lukewarm Chinese food he was currently eating.

He had likened it to birds before, but this, he thought… Was this what it felt like to have butterflies in your stomach?

If it was, the butterflies needed to be squashed. Immediately.

“I have an idea. Let’s play twenty questions,” Layla suggested out-of-the-blue, leaning in a little closer toward him.

“Um, what?”

“I ask you something, you answer truthfully, then you get to ask me something and I’ll answer. Twenty times.”

Warren replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “That’s called having a conversation, hippie.”

Layla gave a little frustrated huff. It was kind of adorable, Warren thought, in its own way.

“Okay, but you know so much about me and I barely know anything about you!” she complained, her eyes silently pleading yet again. He considered the possibility that she had already figured out not talking about himself was completely on purpose.

“To be fair, you give up most information freely on your own. I don’t even need to ask,” Warren said, receiving an almost wounded look in return. He sighed. “You know where I live. And you know my favorite book is Hamlet.”

“Yeah, but not much else.”

That was exactly how Warren liked it. The less that people knew about him, the better - because the less people knew about him, the less they’d have to use against him. His father being incarcerated was more than enough ammunition for his classmates, and for the super community at large. Besides, it’s not like anyone up until this point had tried to get to know him… At least not in any capacity beyond knowing he was Barron Battle’s son. Layla was the first person who had shown this much genuine interest. Some part of him told Warren that he could trust her, and tonight, that part won.

“Alright. Twenty questions.”

Layla clasped her hands together happily, immediately getting into it, “I’ll start off simple. Since you know my birthday, question one: when is your birthday?”

Warren shook his head, naturally trying to deflect the conversation, “If I already know your birthday, that question shouldn’t count.”

“You can ask me something different.”

“Fine,” he breathed, resigning to just go along with it. “March twenty-sixth.”

“See how easy that was?” Layla teased, smiling at him. “Okay, your turn.”

Warren shrugged as he took another bite of his dinner, “Um… What’s your favorite color?”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him an incredulous look, motioning at her green cardigan layered over her slightly-lighter-green shirt, “Really?”

“That was stupid. Sorry,” he said, picking up a piece of sesame chicken with his chopsticks and looking thoughtfully at it. “Seeing as you’re a vegetarian… Do you care that I’m eating meat in front of you?”

Layla shook her head, “Not particularly. Someone’s diet is their individual choice and I respect that. But I do believe that everyone should try eating at least a couple of vegetarian meals a week. It’s better for the environment, and the animals of course.”

“Alright then. Spicy tofu it is for dinner on Thursday,” Warren replied, making her grin in approval. “Question two.”

Her expression grew a little more serious as she dropped eye contact with him. Warren wasn’t sure he liked this sudden change of demeanor.

“Why do you avoid having friends?” she asked, tracing invisible patterns on the table with her index finger.

Warren gave a long sigh. He should have anticipated that she’d start going for the deep questions sooner than later. If he knew one thing about Layla, it’s that she wasn’t vacuous. Even if he tried to give her a non-answer, he had a feeling she’d find a way to get the truth out of him. So he settled for simple.

“Because it’s easier to be alone. Besides, isn’t it obvious? Who really, sincerely wants to be friends with someone like me?” he asked rhetorically, then lowered his voice to add, “Someone whose father was hell-bent on destroying the entire city?”

Layla’s warm brown eyes hesitantly met his own, and she murmured, “...I do.”

He hadn’t expected her to answer at all, let alone say that. It was quiet between the two of them for what felt like ages as they silently held each other’s gaze. Warren swallowed down a little lump in his throat as he replayed those two words over again in his head, wondering if she actually meant them.

“Why? It’s not like befriending me is an essential part of your fake-dating plan,” he scoffed, searching her face for any indication at all that this was a joke to her, that she would say “just kidding!” and make him look like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Is that your official question number two?” Layla asked with a tentative upward turn of her lips, immediately diffusing the intensity in the air.

He exhaled and relaxed his shoulders slightly, not realizing he’s been holding in a breath, “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, to sit up a little straighter before answering, “Because I know there’s more to you than the tough-guy act you put on at school. Because I think you’re smart and interesting to talk to, and not a bad person based on who your father is. Because I really do enjoy spending time with you.”

Warren, struck with disbelief and completely forgetting about the twenty questions game, was at a loss of what to say other than, “You really mean that?”

Layla didn’t hesitate in her response.

“Yes.”

There was truly no denying it now. Layla Williams officially was, for all intents and purposes, his first real friend at Sky High. His best friend, at that. Was this what the butterflies had been trying to tell him all along? The thought was equally exciting and troubling - here was someone besides his mother that seemed to really care about him. But to get to this point, the mask he chose to wear for the world had come away for her, and he had no idea where to go from here. What he did know, however, is that he couldn’t put it back on.

Nevermind the fact that her best friend was one of the two people he loathed as much as his father; the person who was the reason they were now sitting across from each other in the first place. But he pushed that thought from his head the moment it materialized.

“Okay. I believe you.”

Layla relaxed her posture, letting out a breathy laugh, “Guess it’s my turn to ask a question again?”

Warren had come back to reality and glanced around the room, suddenly remembering exactly where he was. His eyes found the clock on the wall opposite them and realized that he had just a mere three minutes to spare before he was due back from his dinner break.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, collecting his mostly-eaten plate of food and set of chopsticks as he made his way out of the booth. “But you’ll have to save it for later. Duty calls.”

“Right,” Layla looked wistfully over at the clock, with the minute hand hovering between the five and the six. “I almost forgot you were still working.”

“To be honest, so did I.”

She pulled her textbook back in front of her as he hovered for a second longer.

“Well…” Warren said, conflicted about leaving her at the table on that note but knowing he had to get back to work now or face the consequences, “Later, hippie.”

Layla, his friend - his only friend - smiled at him as he turned on his heel and headed back to the kitchen, wondering how this all had happened so fast.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, September 20th, 2005 - 10:06pm

To Layla’s surprise, Warren hadn’t protested when she asked him to walk home with her. He went into the back to clock out and grab his leather jacket as she packed up her books and sent a quick text to her mom saying she was on her way home. If she had a curfew, her mother had never informed her of what it was - before this past week, she’d never really been out this late on a school night. They hurried out of the restaurant before Mrs. Wong could make a comment about her overstaying her welcome.

“We have what, eighteen more questions to get through, don’t we?” he asked, holding the door for her as the red fluorescent ‘OPEN’ sign in the front window flickered off. “And the faster we get through them, the less I have to talk about myself, so…”

Layla sighed lightly at his comment, shifting the weight of the bag on her shoulder, “I’ll spare you part of the headache. How about we just alternate questions and both answer them?”

“That might be your best idea yet.”

They walked slowly, covering topics in rapid-fire style: favorite movie, favorite food, best ice cream flavor, worst subject in school, one place in the world you’d like to visit. Before long, they were coming up on their last few questions.

“Okay, seventeen…” Warren, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, searched the depths of his mind for a new question. It felt like they had covered nearly everything easy. “Something you think is really annoying?”

“Littering, definitely,” Layla wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought of it. “It’s not hard to hold onto something until you find a trash or recycling can. You?”

Without missing a beat, Warren replied, “Will Stronghold.”

“Hey,” she complained, giving him an unconvincing look of offense. “He’s not that bad!”

Loyal Layla, Warren thought, still defending Stronghold even when he acts like a terrible friend.

He raised a brow, silently challenging her. She thought of everything that had happened to get them to this point, and she gave a defeated groan.

“Okay, fine, I’ll give it to you. But just this once. Will hasn’t been acting like himself lately, obviously… Moving on,” Layla shook her head and changed the subject abruptly. This did not go unnoticed by Warren, who noted that for once, she didn’t seem to want to talk about Will. He was grateful for it. Listening to her gush about him wasn’t exactly his favorite part of their conversations. “Eighteen: if you could choose to have any super power besides the one you already have, what would it be? I’d probably choose to talk to animals, like my mom.”

Warren shrugged, kicking a tiny stone off of the sidewalk and onto the street.

“I’d choose to not have any powers. All they do is make life harder. I’d just want to be normal, I guess.”

Layla looked at him inquisitively, urging him to elaborate, “So you don’t think that having powers can be a good thing?”

“Tell me,” he said, his gaze fixed on the sidewalk. “What’s so good about having powers? Especially one like mine. All I can do is destroy things. Nothing more to it.”

“There are practical applications-” Layla started, but Warren was quick to argue.

“Like what? Lighting candles like it’s some kind of party trick?”

Layla re-adjusted her bag for what felt like the fiftieth time, her expression becoming resolute as he eyed her.

“Okay. For starters, fire can keep people warm,” she said, determined to change his mind. It made her feel bad to know that he resented his powers, that they felt like a burden to him. She counted off on her fingers as she listed more points. “You can cook with fire. Bonfires are fun and bring people together. Um… You can use fire to melt down metal to make stuff. Fire provides light in the dark. Civilization would have never advanced without it! We’d still be in the stone ages. And there are lots of other things, too.”

“Yep. I’m sure the next classroom I set on fire will provide plenty of light,” he deadpanned, seeming unphased by her multitude of reasons why fire powers were useful. Layla came to the conclusion that there was no getting through to him about it, at least not for now.

“Well, one day I hope you’ll see that your powers are not just destructive,” she said with a sad smile. Getting no answer in return, she added, “We only have two more questions to go.”

“And of course it’s my turn, isn’t it?” Warren muttered, scratching at the back of his neck, wracking his brain. “Uh… Nineteen. Does your mom know about this?”

“What, that I was at the Paper Lantern?” Layla asked, brows furrowed. “Yeah, of course.”

“No, hippie. About this fake-dating thing.”

“Oh,” Layla looked down at her shoes, suddenly just a little nervous, “No. I haven’t told her about the Will situation at all. She has no idea. But I did tell her about you, that we… Hang out. I hope that’s okay.”

Warren was quiet for what seemed like a moment too long. Layla held her breath waiting for his reaction.

“It’s not a big deal,” he finally said. “I kind of told my mom about you, too.”

Layla’s head whipped back up, wide-eyed, “You told her about us fake-dating?!”

“Uh… No. I left that part out. Not like I could say much to her about you anyways,” he continued, the hint of a smirk outlined on his lips as if he were remembering something funny, “Because she would not stop talking about your mom long enough for me to get a full sentence out.”

Layla gave a relieved laugh, saying, “My mom was the same way! She said she was one of the only people who didn’t completely turn on her when she started dating your dad. Did she tell you that, too?”

Warren immediately looked away, his expression becoming unreadable, and Layla once again feared she had gone too far too soon. She had to remind herself that Warren wasn’t Will… Will, who she could talk to about anything, no topics off-limits, even if they didn’t see eye-to-eye. She had only known Warren for a little while now and already felt just as comfortable talking to him as she did with her best friend. But she didn’t know if Warren was on the same page. She was broaching a delicate topic - one that she wasn’t sure he was willing to entertain just yet, or ever.

“Warren, I…” she started cautiously, feeling awful. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I know your dad isn’t someone you like to talk about. Sorry.”

Warren chewed on the inside of his cheek. It was true. He hated talking about his father. He hated when other people talked about his father. But for some reason, he didn’t hate Layla bringing him up. She didn’t seem like the type to be doing it to judge him, or to use what he said against him. In fact, he thought, she might be the only impartial person he could verbalize all of his conflicted feelings to; someone who would allow him to free himself of the burden of carrying those feelings locked up inside.

“No. She didn’t mention that,” Warren said quietly, after what felt like ages.

They had turned the corner onto Layla’s street, their snail’s pace bringing them gradually closer and closer to her house. If he was going to do the one thing he had never considered doing before with anyone, if he was going to open up to her about his struggles with his dad, he’d have to do it now. But he realized it would be like squeezing toothpaste out of the tube - once it’s out, there’s no putting it back in.

Once those thoughts were said out loud, there was no shoving them back inside of his head for safekeeping. He gave a deep sigh.

“And yeah, you’re right. I don’t like talking about my dad,” Warren continued. His voice was shaky, uncertain. He almost didn’t recognize it as his own. However, once he started, he let the words continue to tumble out. “He was a fucked up guy who did some fucked up things. And he left his family behind in the process. I wish I could say I’m glad he’s locked up, but a part of me still wonders what life would have been like if he’d been strong enough to stick around and be better for my mom. To be better for his son. But he got four life sentences, and because of that… I got one, too. I have to live every day knowing people look at me the same way they look at him. And I don’t know if I can forgive him for that.”

Layla was struck silent, lips parted as if she wanted to say something. But Warren didn’t - couldn’t - look at her. A mixture of shame and relief washed over him, and they slowed to a stop in front of her house.

“Oh, Warren…” she said quietly, brows furrowed together. She knew there was nothing she could say that would ease that kind of pain. But she also knew that she couldn’t just turn around and leave him here on the sidewalk after trusting her with something that monumental, no matter how late it was on a school night.

Without warning, she hooked her arm around his and dragged him toward the steps of the front porch.

“Layla, what-” he stammered, too surprised to fight her from pulling him up the steps with her. She let go of him only to plop down on the bench to the side of the door.

“Sit,” she all but demanded as she patted the open space next to her. The porch light illuminated only half of her face and cast a large shadow onto the floor.

Warren looked around warily. He was way out of his element here - at school or The Paper Lantern he felt comfortable, like he had some sense of control. It was easier to keep his defenses up there. But this was Layla’s house. Sure, they were just on the front porch, but this was her domain. That along with the fact that he had just opened up to her about his dad made him feel strangely vulnerable. Still, he obliged and sat down stiffly on the wooden bench. He made sure to not sit too close to her; partly out of fear that she’d somehow be able to hear his erratic heartbeat, and partly because she had that floral perfume on again while he was absolutely certain he still reeked of oyster sauce and sesame oil.

“First of all,” Layla said, looking from her hands folded in her lap up to Warren, who was eyeing her with what seemed to be reservation, “Thank you for trusting me with that. It probably wasn’t easy. Second of all, I know you said you don’t want pity or anything from anyone, but… I do really feel for you. No one should have to go through any of what you had to, and the way you feel is totally justifiable. Have you ever talked to anyone about this before? Your mom? Someone else?”

Her eyes were kind and full of concern, her voice soft and matter-of-fact. She was too good at this - showing compassion and care. He hated how it felt as if she could see right through him.

“No,” he answered honestly, knowing that trying to sidestep around this with her wouldn’t work anymore. “Because who would understand something like that? I mean, I don’t expect you to get it either, but it’s out in the open now, so…”

“I do get it, kind of. Maybe not one-hundred percent. But I understand more than you think I do.”

Warren narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, “How?”

Layla took a meaningful breath, exhaling slowly and reclining to rest her back on the bench, “My dad may not have been a super villain, but… He was just a normal guy who couldn’t come to terms with both his wife and child being a little different.”

“So, you’re saying your dad had a problem with you two having powers?” Warren asked, trying to understand what she was getting at.

“Exactly. He didn’t even know until my mom found out about mine. Sure, maybe my mom should have said something sooner, but she was inactive anyway. She only ever used her’s at work in the animal hospital and always in secret. Except when she realized that I was the one making all the house plants move, she had no choice but to tell him everything. They had a big fight, and a few days later… He left and didn’t come back,” she explained with a frown. “They officially separated not too long after that. Now, I have a stepmom and two half-siblings that I’ve never met. They live in Philadelphia. And as far as I’m aware, they don’t know the real reason why he left his family here.”

Warren looked down at his feet, not knowing at all what to say. Watching as your father became increasingly power-hungry and ultimately imprisoned for the crimes he committed was a pain that he knew well. But he didn’t know the kind of pain and guilt that came with having your dad choose to leave simply because of what you were, because of powers that you were born with and had never asked for. It was a different kind of hurt.

“I’m… Sorry,” he managed to get out, shaking his head. “Does he ever reach out to you?”

“Not much anymore. He sends a birthday card every year, but that’s about it,” Layla smiled sadly, giving a shrug that seemed almost too nonchalant for the subject matter at hand which silently told him that it was something she’d made peace with a while ago. “So even though our situations aren’t exactly the same… Both of our dads have smart, talented, amazing kids that they’ll never get to know. And just because they didn’t choose to stick around and be better for us, doesn’t mean that we can’t choose to heal from that and be better for ourselves. You know?”

Warren sat quietly and let her words sink in. He thought about all of the time he’d spent resenting his father that he could have spent learning how to heal the wounds created by his absence. He then realized he wouldn’t have the slightest idea where to start.

“You really think it’s possible to heal from something like that?” he asked in a voice no louder than a murmur, glancing over to meet the eyes of the one person he now knew who could remotely relate to him.

“Do I think it’s possible? I know it’s possible. It all begins with changing your perspective,” she said, leaning over and nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “And you’ve already started.”

The more he let the idea sit with him, the more Warren realized his perspective had already begun to change. A week and a half ago, he would have never imagined he’d find himself befriending anyone, let alone a sidekick with the most obvious conflict of interest possible. Nor did he ever anticipate trusting anyone enough to talk about the things he had tonight, and he supposed that meant something. But where he would go from here, he wasn’t quite sure.

Layla stood up then, stretching lightly, and Warren followed suit.

“Thanks for walking me home again,” she said with sincerity, taking a few steps closer to the door. “I know it’s out of your way and I really do appreciate it.”

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you, honestly,” he replied, shoving his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. And then, he added hastily, “You know, we still have one question left.”

Layla’s brows shot up and she let out an incredulous chuckle, “It’s fine, we can call it even at this point. I mean, after all of that, is there anything else you could possibly want to know about me?”

“Well, yeah. You know my favorite book. I don’t know yours.”

Layla blinked, fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Okay, so the funny thing is… That is the one question I don’t have an answer to. I can’t pick just one favorite book,” she bit her lip thoughtfully. “How about I think about it and bring you one of them tomorrow?”

Warren looked at her, suddenly feeling exhausted, “You’re going to bring me a book to read? So me fake-dating you comes with homework now?”

“We can swap. You bring me one, too.”

He shrugged, “...Okay. You may not like mine, though. This is your only warning.”

“Hey, I like to think that I’m pretty open-minded when it comes to literature. You’ve seen the kind of books I read,” she said, poking fun at herself. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you read about plants.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s so considerate,” Warren said, with just a little bit of sarcasm. He made a move to go, but stalled at the top step, turning back around suddenly. Looking down at the ground, then up again at her, he added, “Uh, one more thing. That conversation earlier stays between us. Okay?”

Layla smiled innocently, clasping her hands behind her back, “What conversation?”

He nodded in appreciation, hands still in his pockets, “Thanks, hippie.”

“You’re-” she started, but was interrupted by the front door swinging open and startling her. A woman with the same head of red hair as Layla stepped into the light of the porch, looking frazzled. Warren’s mother was right; Layla was a spitting image of her mom.

“Layla!” she breathed a sigh of relief, not seeming to notice Warren at first. “I was just about to call you. It’s a quarter to eleven and you have school tomorrow!”

Layla’s eyes went wide, “Sorry, mom, I-”

“Oh, hello. You must be Warren Peace?” the older woman asked in a tone that was only slightly suspicious. Her gaze shifted between her daughter and Warren, who now wished he would have just kept walking down the steps instead of hesitating. He would have been at least halfway down the block if he hadn’t.

Warren felt his face flush, and Layla smiled apologetically. This was awkward.

“Sorry Mrs… Ms… Williams,” he said hastily, not quite sure how to regard her after remembering what Layla had told him. “I was just walking Layla home but I’m on my way out now.”

Layla’s mom nodded slowly but seemed at ease, stepping to the side to allow her daughter to come in, “How very chivalrous of you.”

“It’s, uh, no problem,” Warren said, taking one step back. Why did this feel way more embarrassing than it should?

Layla gave a little wave before disappearing into the house, saying, “Don’t forget to bring me that book tomorrow.”

“You get home safe,” her mom said, giving him a kind smile and a once-over before closing the front door and leaving him alone at last on the porch.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, September 21st, 2005 - 9:09am

“Pride and Prejudice?”

Warren eyed Layla with incredulity. She was standing beside his locker before heading to Mr. Boy’s room, holding up her copy of the classic novel with the kind of excitement one might reserve for concert tickets to see their favorite band, or the keys to their first car. Not a book written in the eighteen-hundreds. Surely, she didn’t expect him to read that.

“Yeah! What? Don’t look at me like that. You said it yourself that you read whatever.”

Warren did everything he could to keep from rolling his eyes, “You’re really gonna have me read a romance novel?”

“Well, you like Keats,” Layla challenged, thrusting the book closer to him. “And Shakespeare. Would you rather me give you The Secret Life of Plants?”

He sighed, “...Jane Austen is fine.”

She smiled with satisfaction as he took Pride and Prejudice and tucked it into his bag. After closing his locker door, he motioned for her to lead the way to her first class. It actually wasn’t too annoying, going down to the hero support side of the school to walk there with Layla. They had to keep up appearances, after all - so long as he left enough time in between to make it back to his own classroom. His previous tardiness from this week would need to be a one-time occurrence, especially considering the detention he had already accumulated so far this year. But the nice thing about being Warren Peace was that people had a tendency to forget about him. So if he happened to slip in a minute after the bell rang, he figured it might just go unnoticed if he made it to his seat in the back of the room before attendance was taken.

Regardless of whether or not he made it to his first class on time, it didn’t hurt that he now had an extra five-or-so minutes a day to spend with Layla… Not that he was counting.

Oh, who was he kidding? He was definitely counting.

And he hated the fact that he was.

But it was exhilarating, the feeling of finally having a friend - something he could barely admit to himself, let alone to anyone else. Warren felt almost normal for once in his life. Of course, to the rest of the student body at Sky High (and to the teachers who had to have noticed by now), they were the most strange and unlikely pair in the whole school. However, despite the fake relationship, there was a real camaraderie between them. At least Warren liked to think that there was.

He definitely couldn’t have misconstrued anything, as Layla did say yesterday that she enjoyed his company. Maybe she truly wanted to spend more time with him, too.

Walking home from her house last night, he’d floated around the idea of asking her to hang out somewhere that wasn’t school or his place of employment. But where? And how would he even go about asking her? Would she think it was weird, hanging out with him in a neutral third location? Perhaps he could suggest going somewhere on a fake-date, he thought. Except if Stronghold and Gwen wouldn’t be there, what would be the point? They’d have to have some prior knowledge that the couple was planning on going out somewhere, because a fake-date without the person she was trying to make jealous around to see it crept dangerously close to real-date territory.

And it wasn’t like that between them.

Certainly not.

“So what did you bring for me?” Layla asked, rocking back on her heels as she looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to procure a book for her.

Oh, right. Duh.

Warren re-opened his bag, pulling out a book that was worn around the edges and had clearly been read many times before. He handed it to her and started off in the direction of her classroom. As much as he’d love to stand and chat, time was of the essence here.

“The Catcher in the Rye,” she stated, trotting up to his side and placing the novel on top of the notebook already in her arms. “Can’t say I’ve read this one before.”

“I was debating whether or not I should even give it to you. It’s not exactly rated PG.”

She gave him a puzzled look, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He glanced down at her, one corner of his lips twitching upward slightly as he quipped, “Don’t take this the wrong way, hippie… But I’d put money on the fact that you’ve probably never said a curse word in your entire life.”

Layla opened her mouth to retaliate, but Warren interjected, “And no, the word heck doesn’t count.”

“Okay, but I have read curse words. Does that count?”

“Nope.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she complained, although her expression suggested that she was ready to accept defeat.

“No, it’s bullshit,” Warren corrected jokingly as they passed by the faculty room. Professor Medulla had just emerged, heading in the opposite direction toward the mad science lab with a coffee mug in hand.

“Language, Mr. Peace!” he exclaimed, throwing a look of disapproval at Warren. All of the students in a ten-foot radius turned to gawk, making Warren’s face burn slightly hotter than usual.

Layla snorted, clearly trying not to laugh, and turned her face away to hide a smirk as they turned the corner.

“Yeah, okay. I see you trying to hide that smug look on your face,” Warren said, prompting Layla to burst forth with laughter.

During his years of sitting alone in the cafeteria, Warren noticed a lot of things as he listened silently to everyone else’s conversations. One of those things was laughter, and how it differed from one person to another. Some people had annoying laughs that were too loud, too odd, like they were gasping for breath or wheezing or just plain yelling. But not Layla. Her’s had a light, airy quality about it; girlish but not in an irritating way. For lack of a better description, to Warren, it sounded like music. Like a song he wanted to hear over and over again, even if it was on account of his misfortune.

Anyone else laughing at his expense would be at risk of suffering third degree burns. Anyone else, he realized, besides Layla.

He had to look away from her. He didn’t like the way his pulse suddenly quickened, the way the extra warmth in his face refused to subside. She noticed him turn away, saw his jaw set in what looked to her like aggravation and she immediately stopped.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get carried away,” her amused smile vanished, and a slight look of worry settled on her face instead.

“No, it’s fine,” Warren said unconvincingly. He wasn’t angry with her like she assumed - the opposite, really - but there was no way he could explain that to her. He couldn’t even truly explain it to himself. “I’m not mad.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

She seemed to relax a little as they approached Mr. Boy’s classroom.

“Thanks for this,” she said, nodding toward the book he’d given her.

“If you hate it, you don’t have to finish it,” Warren said, shrugging indifferently. His face had finally stopped burning, making it possible for him to meet her eyes again. “It’s my second favorite, but… It’s not for everyone.”

“I’ll try my best to make it to the end. See you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” he echoed, waiting just long enough for her to cross the threshold of the room before turning to book it to the other side of the school.

These extra five minutes with her, he thought, might just be his undoing.

Magenta had arrived at Mr. Boy’s room just in time to find Warren Peace leaving.

Had he walked Layla to class?

She passed by him, tentatively meeting his eyes, unsure of whether or not she should say hello or otherwise even acknowledge him. As far as Magenta was aware, there was no protocol for how to interact with your friend's fake boyfriend. She settled for a little nod, which he returned cordially, before speeding off in the direction of the hero wing.

As she suspected, Layla was already there, retrieving a green floral pencil pouch from her bag. She noticed an extra book on top of her desk as she walked over.

“Layla… Are you going through something besides the Will thing that we need to talk about?” she asked in a low voice, plopping into her seat next to her friend and eyeing The Catcher in the Rye resting on top of her notebook. “Because that’s a little more angsty than your normal stuff.”

“Oh, gosh, no. Warren gave it to me to borrow,” Layla replied with a reassuring smile. “You’ve read this before?”

“I mean, I've tried, but…” Magenta said, trailing off. She was definitely no bookworm like Layla, but she did make a conscious effort sometimes. Inevitably, however, most literature began to bore her about halfway through. Her gaze flickered from her friend back to the book as she muttered, “Warren gave… Okay. That checks out.”

“And I gave him Pride and Prejudice. So we’re both getting out of our literary comfort zones.”

Magenta nodded and tapped the end of her pen on the cover of her textbook, “Since when did fake-dating turn into book club?”

“Since it’s one of the things we have in common,” Layla said, waving at Ethan and Zach as they walked by toward their seats.

“Right,” the dark-haired girl furrowed her brow in contemplation as she watched her red-headed friend open up her own notebook to a fresh page, writing the date and doodling some flowers along the margin. “You know, Layla, if I didn’t know any better…”

But she hesitated, not knowing if she was interpreting the situation correctly, much less if she should even go there. Especially at a quarter after nine in the morning.

“If you didn’t know any better what, Maj?” Layla said, tilting her head slightly like a confused puppy.

As if to save Magenta, Mr. Boy bounded into the room, announcing to the class that they’d be starting their new chapter on common escape strategies and how best to assist your hero in utilizing them.

“Nevermind,” Magenta mumbled, thankful for the interruption. It gave her more time to think rationally.

Magenta knew there was nothing wrong with Layla befriending Warren. But she also couldn’t help but observe the way he would randomly freeze up around her, or the way he seemed to hold his breath when she got too close. How he’d be regular old Warren one second, but around Layla, his mask would occasionally start to falter. It was so subtle that she wasn’t sure Layla had noticed… So subtle that Magenta herself wasn’t even sure if she was reading too much into it or not.

She’d keep her mouth shut for now. But she couldn’t deny it - there was something that wasn’t entirely fake about the two of them.

She just wished she could figure it out.

Thursday, September 22nd, 2005 - 12:02pm

“Oh my God. If I have to look at one more diagram of a utility belt, I’m going to lose it,” Magenta said to Layla, leading them over to their usual lunch table. They had been the first to arrive, their brains still spinning from this morning’s lesson in Foundations of Hero Support.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand how to correctly deploy a grappling hook,” Layla commiserated, placing her tray down and sinking into the seat in front of her. “And besides, when am I actually gonna need to know how to use one?”

“Maybe you won’t need to use one, since you can manipulate plants to help you get up and down things,” Magenta said, taking the seat across from her. “But I on the other hand-”

A familiar male voice cut her off mid-sentence, “Hey, guys!”

Both girls had to do a double take, because Will had just sat down in the vacant seat to Layla’s right, alone and empty-handed. Magenta eyed him warily, clearly annoyed with being interrupted. Layla looked around for Gwen and the Pennies, but didn’t spot them anywhere. Knowing they weren’t in the room still didn’t do much to put her at ease. It felt weird to have him here, for him to be sitting beside her like he used to all the time.

“Hey,” Magenta replied in an unenthusiastic tone colored with sarcasm. “So nice of you to join us for lunch again.”

“Oh, uh, actually I’m not staying for long,” Will’s smile was apologetic, but it made Magenta narrow her eyes. He turned his attention toward Layla. “I just needed to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

Layla’s breath hitched in her throat, a million possibilities running through her head. One of them stuck out and filled her with a little bit of hope: maybe he had broken up with Gwen, and he was about to ask her to homecoming instead? After all, Gwen was nowhere to be found. She glanced around again to make sure.

“Yo, Will! What’s up, dude?!”

Zach had spotted Will as he and Ethan made their way over, greeting each other happily as they sat down next to Magenta. They chatted briefly about potentially getting together to play video games soon before Will remembered why he had come over in the first place.

“Anyways, Layla,” he started, giving her his usual lopsided grin. “I was wondering, um…”

She raised her brows, “Yeah…?”

“I was wondering if you could tell me the best kind of flowers to get in a corsage to go with a pink dress? Maybe with a little pop of yellow in it?” Will asked earnestly. “Gwen’s homecoming dress is like, hot pink with a big yellow bow and I have no idea what to say when I go to the florist.”

Layla’s heart sank. Once again, the only reason he had sought her out was to ask her advice about something related to Gwen. Not to catch up, not to see how she was doing, not to have any sort of meaningful conversation with her or make tentative plans to hang out like he had with the guys. And certainly not to ask her to homecoming.

It hurt to know that she now only existed to him when he needed something.

“Well, why don’t you ask the florist instead? They’re the professionals, anyway,” Layla answered matter-of-factly, barely concealing a frown. The rest of her friends at the table watched the exchange, giving each other side-eyed glances in silence. Even if they had wanted to contribute to Will and Layla’s conversation, they’d have no idea what to say.

Will’s face contorted in slight confusion, clearly not expecting her to reply with something like that. He laughed awkwardly to try to lighten the mood.

“I mean, I just thought you might know since flowers are like, your thing-”

Someone cleared their throat directly behind Will, making him pause. He turned to look back, then up, at none other than Warren Peace.

“You’re in my seat, Stronghold.”

Will’s eyes went wide, and he froze, “W-what?”

“I said, you’re in my seat.”

“Um, sorry, I didn’t know…”

Magenta cataloged the look of vitriolic loathing on Warren’s face as he stared down Will, who scrambled to vacate the seat next to Layla. To be fair, it could easily be explained away just based on the principle of knowing their families’ history. It was definitely no secret that Warren wasn’t very fond of Will. But Magenta swore there was a different kind of resentment lurking just below the surface.

“Uh, if you think of anything, Layla…” Will said, shrugging and shoving his hands in his pockets. Warren took the now empty seat, his glare never wavering.

As if right on cue, Gwen called out from across the cafeteria in a voice thick with annoyance, “Will? What are you doing over there?”

She sat down at her usual table and motioned for him to come over. Her face crumpled with disdain as her gaze flickered to his friends - his former friends - and Penny rolled her eyes in solidarity. Will nodded in her direction, giving the group a half-hearted wave goodbye, “Gotta go.”

Layla tried to force a friendly smile for Will, but it felt more like a grimace. Every time he spoke to her, he seemingly found a way to break her heart just a little bit further. How many more instances before it shattered completely? How many more before she would give up on her plan to make him jealous and just accept the glaringly obvious fact that he didn’t care about her nearly as much as she cared about him? How many more before she realized that he had changed, and he was quite possibly no longer the Will that she had fallen in love with?

But she still loved him, though, if the way her chest ached was any indication. Even though the only one who appeared to be jealous in this whole scheme, she thought, was herself.

“See ya’ later, I guess,” Magenta spoke for the group in her typical monotone as Will escaped to the safety of his new, popular friend group.

They all sat in silence for a moment, wondering who would be the first to break it.

Ethan blew out a long breath of air, “Well that was super awkward. Why was that so awkward?”

“Yeah, what just happened?” Warren asked, turning to Layla for an answer. He had missed the majority of her interaction with Will, and from the looks of it, it hadn’t left her particularly happy.

“Oh, it was nothing. It’s fine,” she said with a shrug in effort to get them to drop the subject. It was partly for not wanting to open this can of worms in front of Zach and Ethan, but mostly because she wanted to forget about how inadequate she felt.

Warren cocked an eyebrow at her dismissal, but didn’t press it, and for that Layla was grateful. Instead of giving in to her temptation to steal a glance at Will, she focused her attention on the red void that was the cup of tomato soup on her lunch tray, only half-listening to Zach as he tried to give Warren pointers for Save the Citizen.

Somehow, she thought her plan would be easier… That Will would fold as soon as he found out that her and Warren were supposedly together.

She thought she knew Will, but with each passing day, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Friday, September 23rd, 2005 - 8:25pm

Despite the sizable crowd at the Paper Lantern for dinner tonight, Warren had found Layla sitting dutifully with her textbooks at the smallest table in the back, near the entrance to the kitchen. She seemed less chipper than usual, but then again, she had been this way pretty much all day at school too.

Warren had an idea of why that might be, and he spent a majority of his meal break waiting for the perfect moment to inquire about it. It was one of the two questions he had tasked himself with asking her before his break was over… And by far, the easier one.

With just five minutes left, he was no closer to meeting this goal than when he initially sat down across from her.

“So,” he started tentatively during a break in conversation, aiming for as casual a tone as possible as he captured a remaining piece of tofu between the chopsticks in his hand. “Are you going to fill me in on that thing with Stronghold at lunch yesterday? It didn’t seem like it was nothing.”

It wasn’t just nothing for Warren, either. Seeing Stronghold next to Layla in the seat he usually occupied had caused a metaphorical flame to ignite in the pit of his stomach, which in turn had made him want to create a literal flame that would send Will to hospital. The feeling confused him, because obviously the goal was for the two of them to end up together. But if (or when) that happened, would it jeopardize his and Layla’s friendship? He had just come around to the idea of trusting someone enough to consider them a friend, and losing that so quickly would be all the reason he’d need to close himself off once again for good. He knew it was immature of him to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it.

The thought did, in a way, scare him. Because if getting what she wanted meant she had no room for Warren in her life anymore… Who else would make the space for him?

As for the reason Stronghold had been there in the first place, Warren had half-expected Layla to bring it up on her own at some point. If it truly wasn’t a big deal, he figured she’d explain briefly and be done with it. However, he had his suspicions. That stoic look on her face was something ripped directly from his playbook - the deny and deflect method. Whatever Will said hadn’t sat well with her, and the fact that she still hadn’t spoken about it over twenty four hours later indicated to Warren that he’d have to pry it out of her.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

Layla sighed deeply, “You picked up on that, huh?”

He shrugged, “Well, you kind of stole my M.O.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Layla chuckled. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table and prop her chin in up her hands. Her eyes wandered around the restaurant behind Warren as she explained, “I didn’t really want to say anything at lunch because Zach and Ethan don’t exactly know that our relationship is fake.”

“They don’t?” Warren asked, raising a brow. This was news to him.

“Nope. The only ones who know are me, you, and Magenta. In a way, it was actually her idea. But that’s besides the point,” Layla waved a hand dismissively. Before Warren could inquire about that side comment, she started up again, “Basically, Will came over to ask for advice about something for Gwen. Not to catch up with me, or even ask me how I’m doing. He just expects me to help him even though he never talks to me anymore. And this isn’t the first time he’s done it, either. Plus forgetting my birthday. It’s like I only exist when he needs something from me. And it hurts.”

Warren nodded, realizing that the very thing he feared happening with his and Layla’s friendship was exactly what she was experiencing now with Will. At a baseline level, taking out the whole unrequited love thing, Layla felt like she was losing her best friend. In Warren’s mind, the idea of Stronghold all but disappearing from his life wouldn’t exactly be a loss. However, it was no surprise that she was upset about it.

“A part of me thinks, why am I even trying to make him jealous when it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore? Then the other part of me thinks I’m not trying hard enough,” Layla continued, shaking her head in mild frustration.

“Realistically, what more could you possibly do?” Warren asked, although he was throwing around ideas in his head that he didn’t dare speak out loud. There were certain things they could do in front of Stronghold; just the mental images alone were enough to make him blush. He tried to erase them from his mind as fast as they appeared, alarmed that his imagination had even gone there in the first place.

No. No. No. That would be taking things too far. It isn't like that.

Luckily, she spared him, saying, “I don’t really know. But you showing up when you did was honestly kind of perfect, so thanks. I think that helped a little bit.”

“Just holding up my end of the agreement,” Warren said, relieved that she hadn’t followed his train of thought. He took the last bite of his dinner and glanced at the clock - he’d have to get back to work soon. Layla’s eyes followed his line of sight over to the clock as well.

“If you have to go now, that’s fine,” she said in understanding. “Thanks for listening. I’ve been keeping it bottled up since yesterday and it feels good to just get it all out.”

“Anytime,” he watched the minute hand slide closer to the six as he gathered up his plate and utensils, silently cursing himself out on the inside. He was able to ask one of the questions he’d planned on, but the other, seemingly scarier question still loomed over his head like a dark cloud.

Warren stood next to the table for a beat too long, holding the empty plate in his hand, watching Layla reopen one of her textbooks and feeling like a tongue-tied loser. He didn’t know why asking her to spend time with him somewhere besides here or school felt so hard. After all, she had waltzed right up to him in the cafeteria to ask him to be a part of her plan like it was absolutely nothing at all, like the fact that he was Warren Peace hadn’t phased her one bit. Remembering this only made him feel even worse, and the pounding in his ribcage wasn’t helping either.

He sucked in a quick breath and blurted out abruptly, before he had a chance to change his mind, “Are you busy this weekend?”

Layla lifted her gaze from her textbook, giving him a curious little smile, “What do you mean, am I busy?”

“Well, I, uh… Already finished the book you gave me,” Warren started, forcing himself to look at her even though he could feel his face burning. It was true, he had already finished Pride and Prejudice. And he didn’t hate it. “So I was thinking maybe on Sunday we could, um. Go pick out some new ones at the library?”

She regarded him silently, and with each passing second Warren could feel the self-doubt and mortification bubbling up closer to the surface. Clearly this was a mistake. He wanted to escape back to the kitchen and never show his face in the dining room again.

He shook his head and made to go, wishing he could rewind the past sixty seconds, “I get it if you don’t want to. It was a stupid idea, I’m sure you have plans already with-”

“I’d love to.”

Her answer made him pause.

“What?”

Layla now looked up at him with what seemed to be genuine excitement on her face, repeating, “I’d love to. I have a few books I should return soon, anyways.”

Warren relaxed his shoulders, not knowing when he’d gotten so tense.

“Okay. Um. Sunday?”

“Sunday is perfect. I could meet you here around noon, if you want, and we can walk over together.”

Warren was glad she was coming up with most of the details, because he was suddenly unable to think about anything besides the fact that she had said yes.

Not just yes.

That she’d love to.

He nodded in agreement, “Sunday, noon, meet you here. Got it.”

Layla smiled, adding in jest, “Now get back to work before your boss realizes you’re two minutes late.”

Warren didn’t simply walk back to the kitchen. He floated.

Chapter Text

Sunday, September 25th, 2005 - 11:54am

Layla Williams: Omw! Be there soon! :)
Outgoing text: Sounds good.

Warren stood outside the building housing the Paper Lantern and his apartment, shuffling restlessly from foot to foot - he figured waiting for Layla out here would be better than waiting inside. Breathing in some of the crisp early-fall air, he hoped, would be good for his nerves. And they’d be able to go right over to the library after she arrived, ideally missing his mom coming home after running errands all morning.

Sundays were his mother’s productive day, or so she always told him. By the time he woke up and got ready to go to the gym down the street for a quick workout (he needed some kind of physical outlet and this seemed to be the most effective thing), she was already gone. He’d come home, had a late breakfast, admittedly spent way more time getting ready than he should have, and his mother still had not returned yet. If he could get Layla to head out as soon as she got here, he figured he might just be able to pull this off without his mom knowing at all.

Warren purposefully hadn’t told her he would be spending time with Layla this afternoon - if he had, he’d never hear the end of it. She would no doubt gush about how excited she was that he had a real friend to hang out with on the weekends, instead of working out alone and then holing himself up in his bedroom for the rest of the day. He loved his mom, but he didn’t know if he’d have the patience to sit through that.

Luckily, he saw Layla round the corner onto his street just a few minutes later, in one of her typical green ensembles that looked like it had come straight off the rack at Goodwill yet somehow still worked. Her hair was twisted into some kind of updo held in place by a large clip, and a tote bag printed with the phrase ‘eat plants, save our planet’ was draped over one shoulder. Clearly, she hadn’t thought too hard about her appearance today… Unlike Warren. It was unfair to him that she seemed so effortless, yet he had fretted over something as silly as his hair not falling in just the right way. If his mom had been home, he was sure she’d be questioning him about if he was going on a first date.

But this was one-hundred-percent not a date. It wasn’t even a fake date. It was just two friends going to the library together. Nothing more, nothing less.

She walked up to him and flashed an easygoing smile, in stark juxtaposition to how he felt on the inside.

“Hey,” he all but choked on the word, unsure of what else to say to her and not completely trusting his capacity to avoid blurting out something stupid. To his relief, Layla didn’t seem to notice.

“Good morning!” she said jovially, only to immediately correct herself. “Or, good afternoon?”

She glanced at the time on her cell phone, eleven fifty-eight. Layla, Warren had come to realize, was someone that operated on-time.

“Yep, still morning,” she confirmed, tossing her phone into her bag and then digging out his copy of The Catcher in the Rye. “You were right about this, by the way.”

He took it from her, noticing with a piqued interest that she had flagged certain pages with her lime green sticky notes. Warren flipped through quickly, seeing that she had jotted down little thoughts and observations on them - but investigating further would have to wait until later.

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t like it,” he said, letting the pages of the book fall closed once again.

Layla shook her head, “It’s not that I didn’t like it. It wasn’t bad. You were just right in the sense that it is definitely not rated PG.”

He chuckled at her admission, “Well, I apologize if my choice in literature corrupted you. I’d understand if you didn’t want me to pick out another book for you ever again.”

“Corrupted me?” she gave a playful grin and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, please. I’ve already read Brave New World.”

“Well then, since you seem to like controversial novels so much, maybe we should get you A Clockwork Orange next?”

“Only if you’ll read Jane Eyre. Deal?”

Warren raised a brow at her proposition, not knowing what he was getting himself into with her newest selection for him yet willing to go along with it anyways. Without hesitation, he answered, “Deal.”

“So I take it you didn’t mind Pride and Prejudice, then?” she asked expectantly, making him immediately remember her copy that was sitting conveniently on his bedside table. His nerves had caused him to forget it there before heading outside to wait for her.

“I didn’t mind it, but… I did forget it inside,” he sighed, mentally chiding himself.

“I can wait here if you want to run up and grab it really quick,” Layla said, giving an unbothered shrug. “No worries.”

Warren nodded, but just as he was about to return to the apartment, he spotted her - his mom, barreling down the block while balancing two brown paper bags full of groceries precariously in her arms.

He gave an audible groan. So much for his plan.

“Warren! You’re home, fantastic,” she exclaimed, making Layla turn around abruptly as she approached them. “You can help me put all of these groceries away.”

Warren looked between her and Layla, mortified, hoping she wouldn’t do anything to embarrass him. If only he’d had the foresight to suggest they meet at the library…

His mother had finally noticed Layla standing there, addressing her in a kind voice, “Oh, you must be Warren’s friend! Layla Williams, isn’t it? Jenny’s daughter?”

Layla glanced quickly at Warren, who seemed to be watching them interact with bated breath, then nodded politely in affirmation, “Nice to meet you, Ms. Peace.”

“The pleasure is all mine. And please, call me Karen,” she grinned, adjusting the bags in her arms and looking Layla over, “You are a spitting image of your mother, you know? Especially with that beautiful red hair.”

Genetics were a funny thing, Layla thought. She knew she primarily took after her mom, but there were little things she saw in herself that were undoubtedly inherited from her dad - the width of her nose, the shape of her teeth. And now, looking at Warren standing next to his own mother, she noticed so much similarity: their tanned complexions, dark chocolate-brown hair, the curve of their lips, the way their eyebrows arched in just the same way. Layla had never actually seen a good picture of Barron Battle to compare Warren to, but she wondered if he looked in the mirror and picked out those little things he’d inherited from his father, just like she did.

She hoped that, if he did, he didn’t resent those parts of himself.

Before Layla had the opportunity to say thank you, Ms. Peace continued, “Come in for a minute. I’d love to get to know my son’s friend a little more.”

Warren’s eyes widened considerably, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Layla. He silently prayed to any deity listening that she would mention having to get to the library, while at the same time knowing that she wouldn’t. She was too polite to turn his mother’s offer down, and he had no recourse but to go along with it.

He then realized with abject horror that in a few short moments, Layla Williams would be in his apartment.

Layla, looking from Warren back to his mother, gave a breathy laugh, “Oh, um-”

“I insist,” Ms. Peace said intently, making it clear that there would be no backing out. Warren felt like he (literally) might spontaneously combust from embarrassment, and all Layla could do was give an apologetic smile.

“Well, let me help you with those, at least,” she offered, motioning to the bags of groceries that Warren’s mother was still cradling.

“Nonsense! You’re our guest. Warren, would you?”

Ms. Peace didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting both bags into her son’s unsuspecting arms, making him stumble ever so slightly. She procured a bunch of keys from the purse hanging on her shoulder and motioned for Layla to follow her to a door on the side of the building, revealing the set of stairs that led up to their apartment.

Layla traipsed up the steps after Ms. Peace, glancing back to see Warren cursing under his breath as he carried up the shopping bags behind them while simultaneously trying not to drop the book in his hand. This was all so surreal, she thought - not only had she befriended Warren Peace, but she had just met his mother and was now entering his home. If someone had told her about two weeks ago that this was where she’d end up, she’d have never believed them.

Ms. Peace had unlocked the second door at the top of the steps, holding it open for Layla. The delicate silver bangles set with turquoise stones that adorned her wrists jangled as she welcomed her in, “Make yourself at home. Would you like a cup of tea?”

The apartment was small but cozy, decorated in rich colors and smelling lightly of incense. The living area had an open floor plan, Layla noticed - the kitchen blended seamlessly into the living room, with windows overlooking the street down below. Warren’s mom kept photographs everywhere - hung on the walls, stuck to the fridge, in frames on any and every available surface that wasn’t occupied by some other kind of tchotchke. Layla was pleased to even see a few house plants scattered around the space.

“We don’t really have time for tea, Mom,” Warren sighed, hoping that his mom would take the hint. He set the grocery bags down on the small dining table that helped divide the space into two distinct areas and began to put away their contents, thankful for something to do besides fidget nervously. Layla stood in the middle of the large room, hands clasped behind her back as she took in her surroundings.

“Warren and I were just about to head over to the library,” she supplemented. Not wanting to be rude, she added, “But I guess we have some time, it doesn’t close until five.”

Warren shot Layla an incredulous look as his mother closed the door to the apartment.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you’re getting him out and about, he works too hard,” Ms. Peace remarked, moving past her son in the kitchen and retrieving some mugs. “Don’t you, Warren? Would you like some tea, too?’

“No, thanks,” he said stiffly, stepping over to the fridge to put away a package of butter, a dozen eggs, a carton of orange juice, and a gallon of milk. Ms. Peace patted him on the shoulder reassuringly.

“Relax. I’m not going to pull out your baby pictures,” she said with a chuckle, although Warren didn’t seem to find it funny. She then opened up a cabinet and rifled through various boxes of tea. “Layla, dear. Black, green, or herbal?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, thank you,” Layla said, smiling courteously.

“You just have to try this elderberry echinacea,” Ms. Peace remarked. “It’s supposed to be a great boost for your immune system…”

As Warren’s mom pulled the box down off the shelf, Layla noticed with a start that a ribbon of water was snaking its way from the kitchen faucet to one of the mugs, filling it before doing the same to the next one. It moved as if it had a mind of its own, knowing exactly where to go and not splashing a single drop onto the counter. Layla could feel herself gaping in shock, even after she put two and two together and realized that it must have been Ms. Peace manipulating the water.

“Ms. Peace…” she started, as Warren’s mom turned around to face her.

“Karen,” she corrected softly with a smile.

“Karen,” Layla echoed, feeling her face start to flush. “Are you a hydrokinetic?”

Ms. Peace nodded in affirmation, confirming Layla’s suspicions. Warren had shut the refrigerator and turned around to find his mom holding the two mugs out to him.

“Warm these up for me, won’t you, dear?” she asked. Warren silently obliged his mother’s request, wrapping one of his hands around each of the cups. Within seconds, Layla could see steam rising from the top of the water.

“Faster than my electric kettle,” she quipped, eliciting a giggle from Layla and a little sigh from Warren. She plopped the tea bags into the mugs and took them by the handles, carefully passing one over to the younger girl.

As Layla accepted her cup of tea, an old laminated newspaper clipping stuck on the freezer door just above Warren’s shoulder caught her eye. It was dated “April 4th, 1988” and accompanied by a grainy black-and-white photograph, which showed a costumed woman surrounded by people wielding signs of all different sizes. But it was the headline that made Layla take pause:

Hydro-hero Aquatica leads ocean trash dumping protests in D.C.

“Wait… You’re Aquatica?!” Layla gasped as she looked from the photo back to Ms. Peace, feeling just a little starstruck. “I’ve read so much about you and your activism fighting for the oceans, rivers, clean drinking water… Didn’t President Reagan sign the Ocean Dumping Ban Act into law the fall after those protests?”

Ms. Peace laughed, both amused at her reaction and impressed by her knowledge, “I was Aquatica. I’m retired. And yes, that would be correct.”

Layla now turned her stunned gaze to Warren, “Why didn’t you tell me that your mom is Aquatica?!”

He shrugged, stepping around them to grab his book off of the table, “Didn’t think it was relevant information.”

“You didn’t think it…” Layla trailed off, staring at him in disbelief as he made his escape. He rounded the corner to the hallway and, presumably, to his bedroom to retrieve the book she’d loaned him. And maybe, she figured, to also hide for a moment while his mother re-lived her glory days.

“Well, I did slow down a lot when I found out I was having Warren,” Ms. Peace explained, smiling wistfully at the article on the fridge. “After he was born, I wanted to be the best mother I could be for him. I planned after a while to return full-time, but then when everything happened with Barron… I had to retire permanently.”

Warren’s mom turned away then, heading to the couch in the main living area as Layla stood studying the photo from the article. Listening to her speak the name of Warren’s father out loud made Layla feel almost guilty in a way, as if it were something she wasn’t supposed to hear. Yet, Warren’s mom had so nonchalantly mentioned him that it almost seemed to undermine the enormity of his actions. Like he was just her ex, nothing more… Certainly not also one of the most notorious supervillians of the past fifty years.

Ms. Peace had pulled out a giant photo album and called for Layla to come and join her. Layla made her way over, forcing herself to not let her eyes drift across any of the family photographs that lined the wall. It seemed too intimate, and almost rude of her to look too closely at them. As she took a seat in the armchair next to the couch, she was able to make out “Sky High + Aquatica, 1979-1988” scribbled in permanent marker on the cover. Ms. Peace opened it up to a page with fading color photographs of teens in some of the poofiest gowns she had ever seen, with the caption “Sky High senior prom, 1983” at the bottom.

“That’s me and your mother right there,” she said excitedly, pointing to a picture of herself in a blue gown posing with a red-headed girl wearing soft yellow. It was odd to see her look so young and carefree - Layla couldn’t recall a time she seemed that happy since before her dad left.

On the opposite page, Layla noticed Ms. Peace’s quintessential prom photo with her date… None other than Barron Battle. She sipped on her tea and tried to not make it too obvious that she was staring at him - at Warren’s father - as Ms. Peace continued to point out the faces of her other classmates in the group photos.

She had thought before that Warren had a fairly strong resemblance to his mother, but now actually seeing Barron Battle for the first time, she knew without a doubt which parent he took after. If you removed Barron’s glasses and straightened out his curly hair, they could pass for twins. Layla could understand why Ms. Peace would have been drawn to him. He seemed so handsome, so charming in the way he smiled up from the photograph at them. She wondered how it all went so horribly, horribly wrong.

Suddenly, a door slamming lighting jolted Layla back to reality. Warren had returned, Pride and Prejudice in hand, and Ms. Peace flipped to a page full of photos of her early days as Aquatica.

He bristled for a moment at the sight of the photo album, until his mom reassured him, “They’re just my old pictures, dear. Nothing to worry about.”

Warren nodded, but instead of joining his mother on the couch, he took a seat at the dining table and observed them from afar as she launched into little vignettes about each picture. Layla seemed to be enjoying the stories, as much as he could tell, and so far his mom wasn’t doing as much to humiliate him as he thought she might. Still, he felt on edge. He’d never had company over before. This, like everything else, was new territory… But panicking about it in his room wouldn’t do anything to get them out of there faster.

After what felt like ages to Warren (but in reality was no more than ten minutes), his mom finally shut the album with a little thud.

“Oh, enough about me,” she chuckled, placing the album on the coffee table in front of her. “Tell me about you, Layla. Do you talk to animals like your mom?”

Layla set her now-empty mug on a coaster, shaking her head, “No, I’m a chlorokinetic. I don’t really know where it came from. My dad didn’t have powers.”

“Flora and fauna. Makes perfect sense to me,” Ms. Peace nodded, then motioned to her son. “I was expecting Warren to be able to control water, but imagine my surprise when he started playing with fire instead! It nearly gave me a heart attack. Warren, should I tell her the story about how you almost melted the slide at the playground when you were-”

“Absolutely not,” Warren interjected, standing up from his seat at the table. His mom telling embarrassing stories about his childhood to Layla would almost be worse than the baby pictures. “Sorry mom, but we really need to leave soon…”

Layla, getting the hint, followed suit.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Ms. Peace,” she said with a smile.

“You are welcome here anytime, dear,” Warren’s mom joined them on her feet, reaching for one of Layla’s hands and giving it a squeeze. “But before you go, could you tell me what’s wrong with my calathea? It has these brown spots all over the leaves. I don’t think I’m watering it too much…”

She motioned to a plant on the end table next to the window. Layla shuffled over, inspecting it for a moment before giving her diagnosis.

“It’s sunburnt. Calatheas really don’t like direct sunlight. Calathea cocinna, the variety you have here, was actually bred to be grown in low-light conditions,” Layla said expertly, gazing down lovingly at the little plant and gently stroking one of its drooping, browning leaves. “If you find it a new home somewhere farther away from the window, it should be much happier.”

Warren had never seen Layla’s powers first-hand. He couldn’t help but watch with fascination as the plant reacted to her touch, giving a little jolt as if it were springing to life. The leaves perked up instantly, and the dry brown patches seemed to heal themselves within seconds. It looked too easy for her, like something she didn’t even need to think about doing - Warren guessed that this was only a small fraction of her abilities.

He understood why she’d refused to participate in power placement based on her own morals and principles. She had explained that much the day he first sat down with her at the Paper Lantern. But Warren now suspected that she possessed more power in her left pinky - and not to mention much better control over it - than at least half of the kids in the hero track at school. He wondered what she could do if she really tried… Undoubtedly, she’d be able to create and manipulate plant life on a massive scale.

Yet still, she’d chosen to be a sidekick.

It was something that had confused him at first. Now, seeing just a little bit of her abilities, Warren found the fact that she was so unconcerned with hero and sidekick labels respectable. Admirable, even. Most people, if they had power like her’s, would be much less humble about it.

And Warren knew more than enough about people who allowed their ego to take over and let their powers go to their heads.

Layla turned away from the little plant now, satisfied with having helped it, and walked over to where Warren was inching closer and closer to the door.

“Marvelous,” his mother said, beaming, charmed by Layla’s abilities. “Oh, one more thing…”

Warren sighed. At this rate, they’d never leave.

Layla looked at Ms. Peace inquisitively as the older woman asked, “Could you write down the number for your landline, Layla? I’d love to chat with Jenny sometime soon. It’s been so long.”

“Oh, sure,” Layla replied, a little surprised, wondering when exactly the last time they had spoken was. “She works a lot, but I bet she’d love to hear from you. She speaks very fondly of you.”

Ms. Peace fetched a notepad and pen to hand over to Layla. A warmth overtook her features upon hearing the last part.

“She does?”

Layla scribbled the seven digits of their landline down quickly and handed everything back with a smile.

“She does.”

If she didn’t know any better, Layla could have sworn that Ms. Peace’s eyes looked a little misty as she said, “Thank you, Layla.”

Layla wondered if she, like her son, had suffered from the type of extreme ostracization that came from being associated so closely with Barron Battle. With the way that Aquatica seemed to completely drop off the face of the earth in the nineties, she’d be willing to bet she was right.

“You’re welcome. It was so nice to meet you.”

“And you too, sweetie,” Ms. Peace said, collecting herself before continuing, “Warren… Just let me know if you won’t be home in time for dinner. Love you.”

Warren nodded, opening the door at the top of the stairs for Layla to lead the way out. He lingered as he felt his face flush, finally replying, “Okay. Love you, too.”

Layla seemed to be out of earshot already, halfway to the ground level when he finally shut the door to the apartment. Once they were both outside again, Warren checked the time - luckily, they hadn’t been set back too much.

“I knew your mom was a hero, but I can’t believe she’s Aquatica,” Layla gushed as they started out in the direction of the library. “And, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Warren shook his head, still feeling just a bit mortified after having her in his apartment, “Well, most people seem to get a little caught up on the identity of my father, so…”

Layla could see how his mother’s super identity would be so easily forgotten considering the circumstances. She grimaced slightly, “Yeah. It’s a shame how people focus only on something like that.”

“Yeah…”

They rounded the corner onto a busier street, where others were also taking advantage of the nice, mild afternoon. Warren, remembering the book in his hand, offered it back to Layla.

“I didn’t do any note-taking, but, uh… Here’s this back.”

She took her un-annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice and slipped it into her tote bag, along with the books she had brought to return to the library, “How did you like it?”

“I mean, I didn’t hate it,” Warren shrugged. They had come to a crosswalk, where he pressed the little pedestrian call button for them before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Darcy seemed like a jerk, though.”

Layla chuckled at his observation, “You really think so?”

“Well, yeah. He’s arrogant and unapproachable and acts like he’s not even interested in Elizabeth when he really is,” Warren explained while they waited for the signal to change. “And he insulted her to her face. Twice.”

“But the thing is, there’s more to Darcy than meets the eye, even if it takes a while for Elizabeth to see it,” Layla replied, looking at him now. “He may give off the first impression that he’s this aloof and unfriendly guy, but deep down, he’s really a softy. And over time, she realizes that they’re actually perfect for each other…”

When Warren noticed she’d trailed off, he turned to find her gaze lingering on him for a moment too long, almost trance-like. He couldn’t help but quietly stare right back as her eyes searched his for something… But he didn’t know what.

She’d still been talking about the book… Right?

The crossing signal ordering them to “Walk!” made her snap out of it. She blinked a few times, her line of sight dropping to the pavement in front of her.

“Well it’s all from Elizabeth’s point of view, isn’t it?” Warren continued as he led them across the street. “If you went to homecoming and someone told you they wouldn’t dance with you because you were just tolerable, I don’t think you’d exactly be enamored with them.”

Layla suddenly remembered waiting for the bus with Will the morning after he had ditched her at the Paper Lantern, when he’d called Gwen Grayson “the most amazing girl at Sky High” right in front of her. Sure, it wasn’t exactly the same as hearing that you were “tolerable; but not handsome enough” for someone. But she imagined that Elizabeth Bennet must have felt the same in that moment as she had when Will had so ignorantly hurt her feelings. In theory, Warren was right. Fictional character or not, anyone insulted like that wouldn’t think so highly of the person who insulted them.

And yet…

“But she eventually sees that’s not the real Darcy. He helps her sister out of his love for her, after all,” Layla pointed out.

“Yeah, exactly. He only paid off that other guy to marry her sister because he loves her. Not because he’s inherently a good person.”

“But there was no guarantee that Elizabeth would want to be with him just because he helped someone she loved. He didn’t have to do it, and that makes him a good person. Besides, his housekeeper also thinks very highly of him.”

They had finally arrived at the Maxville Public Library, a stately brick building laden with old-school academic charm. The steps leading up to the giant double doors were lined with potted Chrysanthemums that burst forth in bright pink, orange, red, and yellow.

Warren reached to open the door for Layla, asking, “So what do these flowers mean according to your flower language book?”

“For Chrysanthemums, it depends on the color,” she explained, interspersing a thank you as she entered the building with him following close behind her. “Red is used to tell someone you love them, whereas yellow… That stands for slighted love.”

“...Oh. Got it.”

Layla hated the way her life had suddenly seemed to call for an entire garden’s worth of yellow mums.

The two made their way up to the circulation desk, where Layla fished three books out of her tote bag (minus Pride and Prejudice) to return to the elderly librarian working today.

“Layla,” the librarian, who’s name tag read Judy, greeted her warmly. Warren, now knowing Layla, really shouldn’t have been so surprised that they were on a first-name basis. “I was able to get that book you were looking for from the library branch across town.”

Layla’s eyes lit up, “Really?”

Judy proudly produced a paperback for her from somewhere behind the desk. A red apple adorned the cover, but it was the title that captured Warren’s attention and made him raise a brow.

“The Botany of Desire…?” he inquired aloud as the librarian passed it to Layla, wondering how it could possibly get any weirder than The Secret Life of Plants but not wanting to ask.

“And who did you bring with you today?” Judy turned her attention to Warren, giving him and his all-black outfit a wary once-over. He could only imagine what she was thinking - it probably wasn’t that far off from what their classmates at Sky High must have thought when they saw him and Layla together for the first time.

What could this sweet girl possibly be doing with someone like him?

“Oh, this is Warren. He’s a friend from school,” Layla said, picking up on Judy’s apprehension and giving her a reassuring grin. “I’m helping him expand his literary horizons. Can you tell me if you have any copies of Jane Eyre available?”

Judy clickety-clacked on her ancient looking computer and nodded, “There’s one on the shelf. Call number eight-twenty-three-point-eight.”

“Perfect, thank you!”

Layla headed off in the direction of the fiction section and Warren trailed behind, taking in the vastness of the library around him. As annoyed as he was at the librarian, the seemingly endless shelves of books and the quiet air that filled the space in between them had a calming effect.

“Speaking of first impressions…” Warren couldn’t help but mutter with a slight eye roll as soon as he knew they were out of earshot of the circulation desk.

“Well, she just doesn’t know the real you,” Layla said softly over her shoulder as she directed them down the row that would lead them to the library’s collection of English fiction.

Warren was glad her back was to him, so he didn’t have to hide the little knowing smile that played across his lips.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, September 27th, 2005 - 2:21pm

Layla, still stress-ridden from having been a victim of a surprise pop quiz during the last ten minutes of Super Physics 101, didn’t hear her name being shouted over the din of students in the hallway as she made her way to her locker.

“Layla… Layla! Layla!”

She finally turned around and, to her surprise, bumped into Will. He looked strangely happy to see her, his goofy, lopsided smile out in full force - but why he had gone out of his way to find her, she had no idea.

“Are you ignoring me on purpose or something?” he asked with a cautious little chuckle, though his smile did not falter.

Layla’s brow shot up immediately at the insinuation. Surely, he couldn’t be serious; it had to be a joke. Her, ignoring him? That was rich, she thought, considering the past few weeks.

“Oh uh, no, sorry. I’m a little out of it. I just had a pop quiz in Super Physics and I don’t think I did very well,” she grimaced, trying not to make it obvious that his statement had mildly infuriated her.

“That’s my worst subject, too,” Will gave her a look of understanding, even though he had gotten moved from the hero support version of the class to the hero version. “Well it’s a good thing I was able to catch up to you then, because I have something to show you that will totally make your day!”

Layla looked at him quizzically, asking with just a hint of apprehension, “You do?”

“Yeah! Come on,” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand without warning and towing her in the direction of his own locker.

Layla’s pulse quickened at the feeling of his hand encircling her own. Considering they barely spoke anymore, any physical contact between them since he had started dating Gwen had been virtually nonexistent. The sensation was equal parts jarring as it was familiar. It felt right, in a way, and to Layla there was a fleeting glimmer of hope in the gesture that she prayed she wasn’t simply reading too much into. However, he dropped her hand as unceremoniously as he had taken it as they approached his locker. She could feel the eyes of the other heroes around her, no doubt wondering why Will Stronghold had brought one of his old sidekick friends around.

“Don’t look yet,” Will said, inputting the combination to his lock. Layla immediately covered her eyes, her heart beating with anticipation for the surprise that was waiting for her in his locker. The door creaked open, and there were a few shuffling noises as Will prepared whatever it was that he so desperately needed to show her. “Okay… Ta-da!”

Layla dropped her hands and peered inside. There, sitting on a little stack of textbooks, was the most gorgeous Alocasia she had ever seen. Its arrow-shaped leaves shone with a silvery hue, a dead giveaway that it was none other than…

“Alocasia reversa!” she gasped, eyes widening with elation.

“Uh… Bless you?” Will said, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“No, I didn’t sneeze, silly. Alocasia reversa, that’s the type of plant this is,” Layla explained, bending over to get a better look and reaching out to touch one of its smooth leaves. The plant swayed happily as she inspected it. “It’s a rare kind of Alocasia that has green veins and silver leaves. The opposite of most variations. Hence, the species name reversa.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Layla could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn’t really find her explanation all that interesting, but she was too excited to care.

“These are really rare. I don’t even know how to make one with my powers yet! But then again, I still can’t make lemons, either… Where did you get it?” she asked, straightening back up and looking at him with intrigue.

“My parents closed a deal on a house for the director of the Maxville Botanical Gardens recently and he sent this to them as a thank-you gift,” Will said, shrugging nonchalantly. “You know as well as I do that they’re no good at keeping plants alive, so… I figured you’d take better care of it.”

“It’s… For me?”

His words took a second to sink in, but when they did, Layla couldn’t help it. She flung her arms around Will, pulling him in for a (metaphorical) bone-crushing embrace.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squealed with glee, grinning wildly.

For a moment she forgot about everything - the comment he’d just made about her supposedly ignoring him, how he’d ditched her and his other sidekick friends, only ever asking her advice about Gwen when he did talk to her. And speaking of Gwen, where was she? She certainly wasn’t with him.

And that’s when Layla felt Will’s arms loop around her too, reciprocating her hug and making her heart swell with joy. Time felt like it had slowed down - she could stay like this forever, she thought, in this state of bliss.

Wait, she dared to think, Does this mean that he and Gwen…?

But his embrace turned into awkward little pats on her back, and before she knew it he was breaking away from her and taking a step back.

Will adjusted the hem of his shirt, saying, “Well, I figured it would be something nice since I still feel bad about forgetting your birthday.”

Oh. So he was only giving the plant to her because he felt… Guilty? Layla started to read between the lines - it was more of a gift for his conscience than it was for her, simply because she would like it. Furthermore, she was beginning to doubt that he would have even thought to do anything for her had the perfect gift not practically fallen into his lap.

She nodded, trying not to let the enthusiasm drain from her face as the realization settled in. The last thing she wanted to do was come across as ungrateful.

“Ahem,” a female voice made her presence known behind Layla. She guessed who it was even before she turned around. Gwen’s gaze was icy as she stared her down, arms crossed, “What’s going on here?”

Layla reflexively shrunk like a deflating balloon, trying not to stutter on her words, “Will was just giving me…”

“...A birthday present. Belated birthday present.” Will finished for her, trying to ease the obvious tension.

“I see,” Gwen interjected, looking from Layla to the plant inside Will’s locker as she stepped closer. Doing a complete one-eighty, her voice became syrupy-sweet and she batted her lashes innocently as she addressed her boyfriend, “Will, it’s just… I don’t want to be late for the homecoming committee meeting.”

“Oh right, that’s today,” he remembered aloud, giving her a forgetful smile as she moved to stand next to him.

Gwen took his hand in one of her own, then fixed a tuft of hair on his forehead that had been sticking out at a weird angle after Layla’s hug with the other. She gave a coy giggle and asked rhetorically, “Ugh, isn’t he just the cutest?”

Layla’s gaze flickered between them, suddenly feeling dejected. Will took the little plant off of the stack of books and held it out to her. She eyed it for a moment before accepting - it was still beautiful, but the meaning behind it had now changed. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to look at it the same way ever again.

“You don’t want to miss the bus now, do you?” Gwen asked, cocking her head to the side in a way that silently said leave, now.

Layla shook her head no, “Guess I better get going, I still need to get to my locker…”

“I’m glad you like the plant, Layla,” Will smiled, oblivious as ever. At least his conscience was clear now.

“Yeah. Thanks again,” she said, turning to leave with whatever shred of dignity she still had left.

Sky High’s upperclassmen course load was no joke. Warren was finding this out the hard way, having walked out of his Villain Psychology class with his first ever near-failing grade on a test. He wasn’t a straight-A student by any stretch of the imagination, having to work hard between school itself and his job to maintain a passing average, but it frustrated him to know he’d been just a few points shy of an F despite his best efforts. And it definitely didn’t help his mood when he found out the very next villain to be featured in the curriculum was his own father.

Needless to say, it was difficult to not let his emotions get in the way.

To his teacher, Barron Battle was just a case study - some psychotic guy who deserved to rot in a maximum security super-prison for four lifetimes. Not a person with a family at home who, despite having complicated relationships with him, loved him and hoped he would change. It took every ounce of Warren’s willpower to keep his composure while she blabbered on about his father’s “deranged mental state” and “lack of empathy for human life” or whatever other afflictions they’d decided he possessed, like they even knew him at all. Her wary glances at him during her lecture did not go unnoticed, and were met by silent glares from his seat at the back of the classroom. At least there, he was relatively safe from the prying eyes of his classmates, who didn’t dare turn around to look at him… Even though he still had to sit through their poorly stifled snickers and whispers to one another.

He was still practically fuming by the time he made it to his locker at the end of the day. All Warren wanted was to be anywhere else. However, knowing that he’d essentially be going straight from school to work at The Paper Lantern did little to subdue the fire itching just under his skin.

As he shoved the books he’d need for homework in his bag, a delighted shriek cut through the noise in the hallway and derailed his train of thought.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Warren wouldn’t have cared to look down the hall had he not immediately recognized the voice as belonging to none other than Layla Williams. As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her - his fake girlfriend - in the arms of Will Stronghold. Gwen Grayson was, as far as he could tell, nowhere to be found. And the look of pure, unabashed joy on Layla’s face was as clear of an indication to him as anything that Stronghold had finally done something right. In fact, Warren had never seen her so happy. He may have just almost failed a test, but he was still smart enough to put two and two together.

So her crazy plan had worked, after all.

Warren’s anger gave way to a new feeling… It was like his stomach had bottomed out, an odd sensation considering that this was the entire reason she had even approached him in the cafeteria initially. He wondered exactly how and at what point in the day it had happened, as she’d still had lunch with him, and if she would tell him anything besides the fact that he wasn’t needed anymore… If she’d even have the consideration to tell him that.

Feeling strangely empty, he turned away from the scene, slamming his locker door with a little more force than necessary.

This was good, he tried to convince himself as he walked the opposite way down the hall and to the nearest exit. She got what she wanted, he wouldn’t need to go to homecoming after all, and he wouldn’t have to deal with her annoying sidekick friends anymore. He could go back to the way things were - the simple and relatively peaceful existence he led alone, before Layla had so haphazardly come barging into his life.

But for the first time, alone seemed to be synonymous with lonely.

No, he thought, clenching his fists, You never needed friends before. You certainly don’t need them now. In another week or two, this will be nothing but a stupid memory.

He burst out of the school and into the light of the fall afternoon, stone-faced and stone-hearted.

Tuesday, September 27th, 2005 - 6:39pm

Just as Warren suspected, being trapped for the evening at The Paper Lantern was the only exception to the anywhere else he’d wished to be earlier while he was still at school. The restaurant was unusually busy for a Tuesday, and the servers were turning tables faster than he could wash and dry all the dishes from the previous ones. At the very least, his mind was occupied, and he didn’t have much time to spend thinking about her. Or the fact that she had never even so much as sent a text to let him know that she and Stronghold were together now, and that the plan was off. Or worse still, about how vulnerable he’d allowed himself to become for her against his better judgment over the past couple of weeks… And that he’d be losing the only thing that had come close to actual friendship that he’d ever had in his life.

In truth, he had known how it would end before it even started. He really had no one to blame but himself for letting her in.

“Hey Warren,” one of the servers had approached him as he stacked a handful of freshly washed and dried plates. “Tables ten, thirteen, and nineteen need to be cleared.”

He only grunted in response, grabbing for one of the giant plastic bins used to collect dirty dishes. His was a thankless job, truly.

Warren made his way quickly from the back of the house to the dining room, while trying not to run into any of the servers with fully loaded trays of food as they maneuvered through the kitchen. He wanted to be in and out as fast as possible so he didn’t fall even further behind. But he hadn’t even set one foot past the arch dividing the restaurant when he froze in his tracks.

Layla, notebook open and pen in hand, was sitting at the table she usually occupied - table twenty - as if nothing had changed.

Warren felt a tiny flame of indignation ignite in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed hard, knowing he had to clear the table directly next to her. There was no way she wouldn’t see him.

He could go about this one of two ways… The first, ignore her. Pretend she wasn’t even there as he went about his business. However, knowing Layla, she would probably say something to him anyways. Therefore, he realistically had no choice but to go with the second option, which was to ask her what the hell she was doing here now that the plan was presumably off.

This was not at all how Warren wanted to spend his evening. He’d never before wished with such fervor that he possessed the power of teleportation instead of pyrokinesis.

He cautiously crept further out into the dining room in the direction of table nineteen. It was only a matter of time before Layla spotted him. As if right on cue, she looked up at the very moment he approached the recently vacated table, giving him one of her typical warm grins.

“Holy crow, it is so busy-”

“Why are you here?” Warren questioned, interrupting her mid-sentence. He hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding so cold, and a tiny part of him instantly regretted it. His tone made her recoil in shock.

“To do homework and talk to you on your break… Like I normally do,” she said, sounding a little hurt.

Warren placed the bin on an empty chair and began to load it up with dirty dishes, thankful for something to keep his hands occupied.

“Shouldn’t you be doing homework and having dinner at Stronghold’s house or something?”

Layla’s eyes narrowed slightly, “...What? What are you talking about?”

Warren shook his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world as he finished clearing table nineteen. He tried to sound as detached and indifferent as possible, putting on his typical stoic and guarded expression as he said, “I saw you two at his locker today. Judging by the way you were hanging off of him, I figured he finally came around and you wouldn’t be needing my services anymore, even if you conveniently forgot to tell me. Congratulations, you got what you wanted; the world makes sense once again. You don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore.”

He went to pick up the plastic bin and leave, but her reply made him pause.

“Oh my Gaia, Warren, you’ve got it all wrong,” she said, giving him a confused and pained look. “Can you sit down for a second so I can explain-”

“If you couldn’t tell, I’m a little busy at the moment,” he retorted. “You know, working. I can’t just sit down in the middle of the dinner rush because you want me to.”

“Then sit down with me on your break. Please?”

Her pleading eyes were enough to destroy his resolve. It just wasn’t possible to be angry at her for too long - like he had any right to be. Her ditching him for Stronghold was bound to happen eventually, and besides, actually befriending her was never a part of the plan. He sighed, still frustrated with himself for giving in so quickly, “Fine.”

Layla nodded, biting her lip and giving a hasty, “Thank you.”

Neither of them could particularly concentrate for the next hour and fifteen minutes until Warren’s break. Layla had to re-read each question on her assignment about five times before finally comprehending it, and Warren’s dish-washing pace slowed to the point where he was sure he’d have to stay at least fifteen minutes past close to get everything finished. At least the crowd had died down considerably by the time he went back out to the dining room and all but tossed his plate of beef mei fun on the table opposite her.

“Okay, hippie. Explain.”

Layla shoved her school books out of the way and leaned in toward him.

“First of all, Will and Gwen are still very much together. Today at his locker he gave me this rare plant as a gift, and I thought that maybe he… You know. Except, it seems like he only gave it to me because he still feels guilty about forgetting my birthday. He didn’t even know what the plant was,” she paused then, her eyes fluttering closed for a millisecond as she sighed, then continued, “What you missed was Gwen sneaking up behind me and giving me this awful look. So no, the plan isn’t off, assuming you’re still okay with it. And I would absolutely keep you in the loop if it was. I’d never leave you in the dark, that would be so inconsiderate of me. I’m sorry I even gave off that impression.”

Warren ate quietly as she talked, feeling a strange wave of calm wash over him at the mention of Stronghold not having broken up with Gwen Grayson. In all actuality, he didn’t care what Stronghold did or didn’t do, however… Knowing he hadn’t yet dumped Gwen for Layla made him feel something suspiciously like relief. But relief from what, exactly? Because now, seeing as his easy way out of Layla’s plan had disappeared, he once again wouldn’t be able to go back to his regularly scheduled antisocial life until after homecoming. Unless of course, he decided he no longer wanted to participate in her scheme and bailed out of his own accord.

Going back to how things were before… That’s what he wanted. Wasn’t it? Yet still, a small part of him felt like he was lying to himself. Evidently, Layla had figured this out too, if what she said next was any indication.

“Second of all,” she continued, her gaze serious, “I’m not pretending to care about you, or be your friend. I thought we established this already. And third, regardless of whether or not Will and I end up together after homecoming… I still want to be your friend. Conflict of interest aside, you’re stuck with me now whether you like it or not. I’d find a way to work it out.”

Warren could barely look at her - was he really that transparent? Or was it purely coincidence? Either way, he now felt like an ass for jumping to conclusions, and for being so rude to her about it. He ran a hand over his pulled-back hair and exhaled loudly, unsure of what to say at this point but knowing that he was the one who owed her an apology - not the other way around. He definitely shouldn’t have snapped at her the way he did.

He stumbled over his words, trying to come up with something that didn’t sound stupid, “Look, I’m… Sorry. For earlier. I shouldn’t have been so-”

Layla didn’t wait for him to finish, “It’s okay. Apology accepted.”

She gave him a little smile to let him know it really was alright, as the silence between them stretched on for a moment longer than was comfortable. Warren felt like he once again didn’t deserve her kindness, yet here she was, still wanting to spend time with him after his major misinterpretation of events. And she hadn’t been offended at all that he’d assumed the worst of her. Then again, she was still into Stronghold despite all of his transgressions… Warren couldn’t help but wonder if the girl had any sense of self-respect, or if she even knew she let people walk all over her.

Too many people saw kindness as weakness. But maybe, aside from the whole plant-manipulation thing, that was her superpower. No matter how horribly people treated her, she still somehow saw the best in them. Warren knew he sure as hell wasn’t able to do that.

“So…” he finally said, trapping a bundle of noodles with his chopsticks, “I’m stuck with you then, huh?”

“Alright, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration on my part,” Layla said, reaching for the cup of tea on the other side of her textbook. “If you really didn’t want anything to do with me after homecoming, I’d understand. I know I can be a bit… Much. But I hope we can still be friends no matter what happens with Will.”

He nodded, his gaze sweeping around the restaurant before finally settling on her. He spoke slowly, cautiously, “Well, considering I find you slightly more tolerable than the rest of your friends… I wouldn’t completely hate it if you stuck around.”

Layla laughed then, rolling her eyes playfully at his comment in a clear indication that she wasn’t upset with him. Either that, or she could sense just how much her friendship meant to him, even if he had too much pride to admit it.

“Okay. Whatever you say, Mr. Darcy,” she quipped, confirming his suspicions as she popped the last of her cream cheese wontons into her mouth. Warren raised a brow at her comment. She continued then, as if the misunderstanding had never happened, “So, I just started A Clockwork Orange and I have a few thoughts…”

Chapter Text

Thursday, September 29th, 2005 - 11:57am

“Yo guys! It's the best day of the week!” Zach exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he led Layla and Magenta down the hall in the direction of the cafeteria.

“Thursday?” Layla asked inquisitively. “What’s so special about Thursday?”

“Uh, it’s pizza day,” he replied like it was obvious, making a show of breathing in the aroma of sauce and Italian spices wafting through the hallway. “I just hope they don’t run out of supreme slices before we get there. Good thing I’m feeling lucky.”

Ethan had materialized from somewhere behind them, sneaking up beside Magenta so quietly that he made her jump when he said, “Did someone say pizza?!”

“Jeez Ethan, a little warning next time,” she said, trying to play it off as nothing while simultaneously looking around to make sure no one else had seen.

“Sorry,” he offered an apologetic smile, trying not to laugh at how easily he’d been able to startle her. Layla couldn’t help but notice the giant damp splotches covering the top of his shirt, turning the bright orange dark.

“Ethan, why are you all wet?” she asked with concern as they grabbed trays and filed into the lunch line.

He sighed, placing a juice box on his tray, “Lash and Speed. The usual.”

She grimaced in return, “Say no more.”

Layla picked out a slice of cheese pizza, a side salad, a fruit cup, and a cookie for dessert as they moved down the line. In front of her, Magenta rolled her eyes at Zach as he snatched the last slice of supreme and all but yelled, “Booyah! Last one, let’s go, baby! Another win for Zach Attack!”

“Oh, Maj! I forgot to ask earlier,” Layla said while they made their way up to pay for their lunches, making her friend turn around. “What did your parents say about bowling this weekend? Did they say yes?”

Magenta’s eyes widened, “My dad was so okay with it that he was ready to sign me up for a bowling league. Apparently he won a championship in the eighties with the Sky High bowling club. And I was like, Dad, I only want to go because my friends are going, not because I actually like bowling…”

“So that’s a yes?”

She fished some bills out of her pocket and handed them to the cashier, “Worse. I’m afraid he might try to invite himself along.”

Layla paid next, and the group waited for Ethan to do the same before they made their way toward their usual table.

“Speaking of inviting people,” Zach chimed in. “We should totally invite Will!”

Layla and Magenta gave each other side-eyed glances, both immediately knowing what the other was thinking. As much as Layla wanted him there, she didn’t have a good feeling about it actually happening.

“I mean, if you want to, whatever,” Magenta said for the both of them, her skepticism evident. “Just don’t be surprised when he says no, because he’s too busy worshiping the ground that Gwen walks on.”

Her last comment seemed to go completely over Zach’s head. He changed course and brought them over to the table where Will sat with Gwen, the Pennies, and the rest of their group of hero friends. Layla wished she hadn’t followed him there - the feelings of inadequacy Gwen had left her with on Tuesday still lingered, and she didn’t want to run the risk of further embarrassment in front of a bigger audience. So she hung back with Magenta and Ethan several feet behind Zach, as he walked right up to Will and ignored the obvious looks of disdain from everyone else at the table.

“Will, what’s up man?”

“Hey, Zach!” Will seemed excited to see him, giving him a quick fist-bump. “What’s going on?”

“Me and the other guys were wondering if you wanted to hang on Saturday?” Zach asked, giving his megawatt grin. “We’re all gonna go-”

He didn’t get to finish, immediately getting cut off by Gwen. She gave him a once-over that turned into the most disingenuous smile Layla had ever seen, saying, “He can’t. He’s busy on Saturday. Sorry.”

Will turned to her quizzically, “I am…?”

Her face softened as she regarded him, “Yeah, silly! We made plans already.”

“I don’t remember us making any plans.”

Gwen rested a hand on his forearm reassuringly as Zach and the other sidekicks watched their exchange, perplexed.

“Of course you don’t, because you’ve been so focused on your Mad Science project and I’m so proud of you for working so hard on it,” she cooed.

“And I so think I’m gonna hurl if I don’t escape this conversation,” Magenta muttered at a volume that only Ethan and Layla could hear, turning away from them and making a break for their own table.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be doing nearly as well in that class as I am now if it weren’t for you,” Will replied to his girlfriend, looking googly-eyed back at her.

Zach’s gaze flickered between Will and Gwen, the disappointment evident on his face. It was an expression that looked completely out of place on him - optimistic to a fault, he never seemed to let anything get him down. But Will’s lack of effort to maintain their friendship appeared to finally be bothering him. Layla wondered if they had ever actually gotten together to play video games like they’d talked about last week, or if Will had stood him up, too.

“I guess I am busy already on Saturday, then,” Will had turned back to Zach, giving him a frown and a shrug. “Sorry, man.”

“Oh,” Zach nodded, glancing around nervously at the rest of the heroes sitting at the table, including a handful of Pennies that were giggling to each other. He sighed, “It’s cool. Another time?”

Will gave him an eager nod, “Yeah, sure!”

Zach stood there for another moment longer, looking unsure of what else to say, and Layla understood all too well how he must be feeling. She stepped forward and gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow to get his attention.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Come on. Let’s go sit down.”

Will gave them a little wave as they made to go, with Ethan following suit.

Ethan leaned in toward Layla and said the one thing that had crossed their minds, but that they were hesitant to divulge, “Call me crazy, but… I don’t think they really have any plans for Saturday.”

“I don’t think so, either,” Layla agreed solemnly.

As they went to join Magenta, Layla couldn’t help but peek over her shoulder back at Will - he was smiling, laughing at something one of the other heroes had said. He looked happier with them than he ever did at their table. She then refocused her gaze on Gwen. Sure, she was gorgeous, and popular, and the top of her class. Of course Will would be drawn to her. But Layla couldn’t help but wonder what else Will saw in her that wasn’t so superficial… What else was it about her that he liked, that made him want to stay? Those kinds of meaningless things couldn’t be all he cared about, right? Because underneath her perfect hair and makeup and trendy pink outfits, Layla was able to see that Gwen wasn’t really the sweet and nurturing girlfriend she pretended to be. She was a fraud, and the Will Stronghold Layla had grown up with wouldn’t tolerate someone like that. Could he really be so blind?

Clearly, Layla needed to try harder to get Will to see that Gwen was all wrong for him.

Thursday, September 29th, 2005 - 12:48pm

Layla practically ran to Warren’s locker after stopping at her own. If she timed it right, Will and Gwen would still be around - she had an idea and was dying to see if it would work. It also didn’t hurt that she was terribly curious about why Warren hadn’t been at lunch today. Thinking back to their conversation at The Paper Lantern on Tuesday, she hoped it wasn’t because he had finally gotten sick of her.

As she turned the corner to their stretch of hallway, she slowed to a walk, and spotted Will right where she wanted him. But his focus was, predictably, elsewhere - Gwen was talking his ear off next to him. Layla clocked the way she stood with one hip angled out to accentuate her curves, the books she held in her arm resting in the dip of her waist. She studied the way she looked at Will through her lashes, and twirled a lock of hair flirtatiously around her finger as she laughed. Further up the hall, Warren was just putting in the combination into his lock.

Go time.

Layla hurried past Will’s locker as close as possible, making him turn as if he were getting ready to greet her. She saw Gwen’s smile fall away from the corner of her eye, annoyed to have lost his attention. But Layla ignored him and pressed on, approaching Warren and positioning herself so that Will was still visible behind him.

“There you are! I missed you at lunch today,” she exclaimed, her voice an octave too high, trying to contort her body into the same pose as Gwen’s. It felt stiff and unnatural to her, but Will was still watching with a slightly pained look on his face, so she continued.

Warren paused just long enough to glance down at her, “You did?”

Layla gave a boisterous, albeit forced, laugh and attempted to imitate Gwen’s hair-twirling, “Oh Warren, you are so funny!”

He stopped his exchange of books from morning to afternoon classes and regarded her with a disconcerting stare, “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Layla asked, tilting her head to the side. Warren motioned vaguely at her.

“...That.”

To her chagrin, she noticed behind him that Will had become disinterested in whatever was going on between them. Her act-like-Gwen method evidently wasn’t a winning strategy. She leaned in a little closer to Warren and asked in a low, panicked voice, “Does it look stupid?”

He closed his locker door and turned around, catching a glimpse of Will and immediately understanding what was going on, “Well, I mean…”

Layla sighed in resignation, watching as Gwen took Will’s hand and towed him down the hall and around the corner.

“You know what? Nevermind,” she said, silently guessing to herself exactly what Warren was too courteous to tell her out loud. She exhaled deeply and relaxed her posture, feeling slightly disappointed with herself for sinking to that level. “It felt ridiculous anyways. I am never doing that again."

"Good," Warren proclaimed. "Because that was disturbing."

Layla nodded in agreement.

"But really, why weren’t you at lunch?”

It was Warren’s turn for a dramatic sigh. He didn’t know what Layla’s next class was or where it was located, so he started walking in the direction of his instead. Not seeming to be bothered by it, she followed.

“Professor Elast had me stay after Villian Psychology today to talk about how I was feeling regarding the sensitive subject matter we’ve been discussing,” he said darkly, his face turning into a scowl. “The sensitive subject matter being my father.”

Layla winced. She could never imagine having to sit through a class where the teacher dissected the mental state of one of her parents. It came across as remarkably dehumanizing, to say the least.

“Ah. That sounds… Awful,” she said, treading carefully. “Why can’t she make an exception and give you an alternate assignment or something?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But it just… I don’t know,” Warren said, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “It really pissed me off. So I sat in the library to try to cool down. The quiet helps.”

She could still see the other traces of indignation on his face - the way his brow crumpled, how his lips seemed pressed into a permanent frown. She didn’t know how much help it would be, but she decided to offer her advice anyway, “I get that. If you ever need a spot where you’d be completely alone, you should try the garden behind the cafeteria. You’d more than likely be the only one out there. It’s where I would go if I was having a bad day and needed to get away from people… Plants are better company sometimes. They’ll never judge you.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Layla hated seeing Warren upset. It really didn’t seem fair, she thought, to make him sit through something so insensitive. But it shouldn’t have surprised her that much - this was high school, after all. Nothing was particularly fair.

In an effort to lighten the mood, she cleared her throat lightly and blurted out, “We’re going bowling on Saturday. You should come.”

“We as in who, exactly?” Warren asked, his tone reluctant.

“Me, Ethan, Zach, and Magenta.”

“No way,” his answer was quick and definitive, sparing no time to even consider the idea.

Layla seemed taken aback at the immediacy at which he declined, crossing her arms over her chest defensively, “Why not?”

Warren raised a brow at her, “What makes you think that I want to spend any amount of time with your friends outside of the school cafeteria?”

“Well, you spend time with me outside of the cafeteria,” she asserted.

“Yeah, at The Paper Lantern, when I’m working. I’m essentially being held captive,” he argued. “I hardly think that counts.”

“It does so count,” Layla retorted. “And, you choose to sit with me on your breaks. Willingly.”

Okay, sure, maybe he did decide to sit with her completely of his own accord. But he wasn’t going to miss a shift so he could toss a fourteen pound ball around with a bunch of sidekicks he had no interest in getting to know just because Layla would also be there. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been in a bowling alley, anyways.

“You already know I work on Saturdays, hippie,” he reminded her in an effort to change the subject, sending a glare at a group of underclassmen who were blocking the flow of hallway traffic. “Couldn’t go even if I wanted to.”

“Well, on the off chance that you weren’t working, I just wanted to make sure you’re aware that you are included in our plans. If you want to be, that is,” she explained. And of course, Layla being Layla, she refused to let him redirect the conversation, “Also, let the record show that it was you who invited me to the library last weekend. In case you forgot.”

How could he have forgotten that mortifying experience? It had been so unlike him to get that flustered. Warren scoffed, “Considering you had a stack of books ready to return, I’m sure you’d have gone with or without me. Besides, that’s different.”

Layla stared at him with incredulous eyes, “Different how?”

“Because it’s you.”

“Exactly what are you trying to say here?” she asked, her tone and her expression daring him to elaborate. There was no way she’d let this go now. Warren slowed his pace down as they neared his classroom, pausing before they got too close to the door. He exhaled heavily in frustration.

“I like spending time with you,” he admitted, looking anywhere but at her. “Okay? With you. Not your friends.”

The terrifying truth of the matter was that the more time Warren spent around Layla, the more he wanted to be around her. It was a weird feeling considering how comfortable he’d always been alone. He was also painfully aware that this was the first time he was acknowledging it so explicitly out loud at all, much less directly to her. Somehow, she just kept finding new ways to drag him completely out of his comfort zone of apathy.

However, hanging out with all of her annoying friends just to also see her? He had to draw the line somewhere. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same as it was when it was just them.

A satisfied grin found its way onto Layla’s face, “Well, I’d say that’s a step above not completely hating having me around, so I’ll take it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Warren deadpanned, although Layla could tell there was no heat behind his words.

“Yet you still enjoy my presence anyways.”

“Sure. Something like that,” he said, the burning sensation in his face making him want to run for cover in the classroom. And there were those damn butterflies again - it just didn’t make sense. He half-wished she wouldn’t smile at him like that when they were surrounded by other students… But then he promptly remembered that those other students all thought they were dating, so it wouldn’t matter anyways. “Although you should probably go now, unless you want to be late for your next class.”

Layla gave an unconcerned shrug, but turned to head to the other side of the building, “I’ll make it before the final bell. Hope you feel better, Warren.”

He supposed he did feel better, in a way - he was no longer incensed about his Villain Psychology class. However, he felt equally as confused. As he watched Layla’s retreating figure, he had the sinking suspicion that her friendship wasn’t still supposed to make his heart feel like it was going to beat right out of his chest, or make his stomach flutter when they bantered back and forth. He’d chalked it up to never having a real friend before. But he’d been around her long enough now that the novelty should have worn off, if that was indeed what he was experiencing.

So Warren did the only thing he knew how to do with any feelings that made him uncomfortable: ignore them. Shaking his head to metaphorically clear it, he made his way into the classroom and to his spot in the back corner, willing himself to forget about the redhead for at least the duration of the lesson.

Friday, September 30th, 2005 - 11:54am

Layla would normally have walked to lunch with her friends, but they were a little busy at the moment trying to free Zach from the confines of his own locker yet again. Lash and Speed had made shoving him and Ethan (who always managed to escape by melting out through the little crack in the bottom) into their lockers an almost weekly ritual at this point. She found him standing with Magenta, who was fiddling with the lock on the door.

“Zach, can you hear us? What’s your combination?” Ethan was yelling. The only thing they got in response were muffled sentence fragments and bangs on the door. “What? We can’t hear you, you need to talk louder-”

“Oh forget it Ethan, I’m not spending my whole lunch period trying to figure out what he’s saying,” Magenta grumbled, giving her signature eye-roll. “You stay here with him and I’ll just get Professor Medulla to come and laser through the lock. Layla, can you go grab our table?”

Feeling bad for not being much help but knowing that Magenta had the situation under control already, she replied simply, “Sure.”

Magenta yelled into the locker at Zach before she turned to go, “Get a lock with a set of keys next time, doofus. And when you do, you’re giving me the spare so this doesn’t keep happening to you.”

So Layla found herself standing alone in the lunch line, waiting for her turn to grab a grilled cheese when she heard Will’s voice clearly over the conversations of the other students. He was about three people ahead of her in line, sandwiched between Gwen and Penny. Luckily, none of them noticed her eavesdropping just behind them.

“Gwen, about yesterday…”

“What about it?” his girlfriend asked innocently, gazing at him with a placid smile etched into her face.

“I still don’t remember the plans you said we have for this weekend,” he said, looking a little confused. “Can you remind me?”

Gwen turned to Penny and the two girls exchanged looks, giggling to each other.

“Well, what did you want to do? We can study at my house, if you want. My dad will be gone for most of the afternoon so we’ll have the place to ourselves…”

Will’s voice seemed to tremble a little as he asked, “So, there were no plans?”

Gwen chuckled, “We can make some now. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes it is,” Will’s tone seemed uncharacteristically clipped, almost a little annoyed. “You lied to Zach.”

“I didn’t lie to him, Will,” she said, her expression unchanging even though her boyfriend clearly wasn’t happy, “I just stretched the truth. Even if we technically didn’t have any at the time, we were going to make some later, right? Besides, I’m your girlfriend. Shouldn’t I be your priority?”

“Yeah, you should be, but…” he replied, stumbling on his words a little as he grabbed a chocolate milk. “I mean… You are… It’s just… I haven’t hung out with him and the other guys in a while. I kind of miss them, you know?”

Layla’s heart soared as she listened to Will say he missed them - there was still hope that he cared about them, after all. She glanced stealthily around the other students in line as they shuffled down closer to the register, doing her best to remain inconspicuous as they continued their conversation.

“I don’t get why you still care about them at all, Will,” Gwen said, placing a salad on her tray. “They’re just sidekicks.”

Will looked a little taken aback at her comment, “So? They’re-”

“They’re on a totally different path than us, Will. Just look at their powers. Come on, glowing? Melting? Turning into a guinea pig?” she wrinkled her nose in disgust, her tone saying everything that she didn’t verbalize. She continued on passionately in her monologue, “There’s a reason why you’re a hero and they aren’t. And us heroes have to stick together. We have way more pressure on us to do the majority of the world-saving, so our classes are way harder than the sidekicks’ are. Plus, midterms will be here before you know it! You don’t have time to waste hanging around with them when you need to focus your attention on more important things.”

“Well, I mean… I guess you have a point,” Will admitted, looking a little conflicted still. “Not everyone can have super strength, or be a technopath. And the hero support classes are definitely a lot easier.”

“Exactly,” Gwen nodded as she handed over money to the cashier to pay for both of their lunches. “Spending time with a bunch of sidekicks would be holding you back from your potential. You want to live up to the Stronghold name, don’t you?”

“You’re right,” Will said, his expression changing as he considered what his girlfriend had just said. “I can’t let anything hold me back if I’m gonna help my parents save the world after high school. Stronghold Three and everything, you know?”

Gwen smiled, evidently pleased with herself and her gaslighting abilities, “I’m so glad you get it.”

Layla couldn’t help her jaw from dropping in disbelief as she heard Will agree with Gwen, even as she insulted the people he had once called his friends. It had been too easy for her to manipulate his opinion - he was like putty in her hands, and he was none the wiser. She had hit him where he was most vulnerable, too; his desire to live up to his potential, but more importantly his parents’ expectations, was something he just couldn’t shake. Realizing that Gwen knowingly exploited this weakness of his made Layla’s blood boil. However, Will was too far gone at this point to pick up on it himself.

She was just glad that Zach, Ethan, and Magenta weren’t around to hear their conversation, too. They would no doubt be even more hurt than she was, hearing how Will so quickly conceded that their powers were more inferior to his and Gwen’s... Hearing that any of Will’s time spent around them would be considered time wasted, even though just a few weeks ago the only friends he had to spend time with were them. And they had accepted him, with or without powers.

The irony was almost painful.

Layla quietly paid for her own lunch and found her way to her table. Warren had come to the cafeteria today, and he eyed her with something loosely resembling concern as she sat down next to him.

“So either someone lit the Amazon rainforest on fire, or Stronghold said something to make you look that upset,” he guessed, closing Jane Eyre and returning it to his bag. “And I’m willing to bet on it being the latter.”

Ethan and Magenta had apparently managed to get Zach unstuck, as they were now making their way through the sea of students with their own lunch trays in hand. Layla decided right then and there that she wouldn’t tell them about Will and Gwen’s conversation. Not now, at least. The last thing she wanted was to upset them.

She shook her head at Warren’s observation and tried to force a smile, “You know what? It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he didn’t mean what he said, anyways.”

But it sure sounded like he meant it… And that is what worried Layla the most.

Chapter Text

Sunday, October 2nd, 2005 - 1:22pm

“Honestly, Maj. Maybe you should sign up for a bowling league. You were really good yesterday,” Layla said to her friend as she regarded her reflection in the dressing room mirror. The chartreuse, mid-length dress she had on was pretty, but the glittery fabric was so itchy. One more for the reject pile.

Magenta burst out of her own fitting room in a lilac gown held up by thin spaghetti straps.

“Ew, no. That would be so lame,” she said, looking mortified. She took the spot to Layla’s left in front of the giant, three-paneled mirror and turned to look at the back of the dress. Immediately, her face crinkled with dissatisfaction. “God, this dress is ugly. Yours is cute, though.”

“Thanks, but it literally makes my skin crawl because it’s so itchy. So it’s a no.”

“Same with mine, except… Metaphorically speaking. Also a no.”

Layla sighed, wishing they wouldn’t have waited so long to go shopping for homecoming dresses. The stores at the Maxville Mall had already been picked over, leaving them with significantly less options than they would have had if they’d gone a couple of weeks ago. But putting it off really hadn’t been a conscious decision - Layla’s anxieties about Will and her plan had led to it completely slipping her mind, and Magenta had just decided this week that she would be going after all.

There was only one more store left to try. As they perused the racks, Layla’s mind wandered to what Warren would be wearing to homecoming, if he wasn’t going to wear a tux. Didn’t homecoming dates typically try to match each other? That’s what all the couples in movies did, anyways. No disrespect to him, but black was typically not something she liked to wear, so matching perfectly was probably out of the question. She pulled out a satiny emerald-colored dress and held it up to her torso for inspection, smoothing out the hemline that fell right at her knees.

“Do you think Warren would like a darker shade of green?” she asked Magenta, who was an aisle away.

Magenta stopped flipping through the hangers in front of her and eyed Layla with intrigue, “If you’re gonna be picking a dress solely based on the opinion of any boy, shouldn’t you be a little more concerned with whether or not Will would like it? Why do you care what Warren might think about a dress?”

Layla opened her mouth to respond, but she found herself flustered. She usually appreciated her friend’s blunt honesty, however, she wasn’t prepared for Magenta to answer like that.

And why, oh why was she blushing?!

“Well, I… I was assuming we would try to match. You know, because… That’s just what you do with your homecoming date,” she stammered, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and not quite sure why. “Isn’t it? And Warren always wears dark colors.”

Truthfully, she wanted Warren to like it. After all, he was the one who’d have to be seen with her in front of the entire school. At least, that was what she told herself.

Magenta’s calculating stare was unwavering, “I say, pick one that you like. That’s what you’ll be most confident in. And you’re gonna need a whole lot of confidence to go in there and try to get Will to dump Gwen for you at this point.”

Layla looked again at the dress in her hand, considered what her friend had said, then put it back on the rack.

“Yeah…” she said half-heartedly. “You know, I don’t think I want a short dress, anyways.”

They went back to searching in silence for a moment until Magenta snatched something from the rack at the very end of the row.

“Finally, something decent,” she proclaimed, pulling out (for lack of a better word) a magenta colored, tea-length dress with a delicate black lace overlay. “I’m gonna go try this on.”

Layla nodded as her friend went to find the dressing room. She was about ready to give up and settle for the itchy dress she had tried on at the previous store until she moved to the back section and came across a gorgeous lime green, floor-length gown. Its fabric was light and floaty, pleated throughout, and featured a halter neckline with a little cut-out in the middle. A long gold cord was tied around the bodice, giving it a Grecian goddess feel. The moment she set eyes on it, Layla knew that it was the one. Magenta even gave her stamp of approval when she met back up with her.

“See what I mean,” Maj said, looking the dress up and down. “This one is so you. Will would be an idiot to not think you look amazing in it.”

And for some reason, a little part of Layla couldn’t help but secretly hope that Warren would think so, too.

Wednesday, October 5th, 2005 - 8:55am

Sky High Homecoming Dance: Saturday, October 15th @ 7pm!

The poster hanging in the entrance hall seemed to shout this reminder at Layla as soon as she crossed through the double doors of the main school building. Homecoming was only a short ten days away, and she was beginning to feel like she was running out of time. Despite all of her best efforts, Will was no less invested in Gwen than when he first mentioned he was taking her to the dance.

On the way to Warren’s locker for their morning walk to her class, she began to wonder if she should just call the whole plan off now and cut her losses early. At the very least, maybe she’d be able to focus a little more on trying to enjoy the night with her friends, instead of making every last-ditch effort to get Will to see that Gwen was a horrible girlfriend and that he’d be much happier with her. But the more she thought about it, the more she remembered just how much time she’d invested in the ruse. It seemed foolish to give up now; not when there was still a chance, however small that chance may be.

As if he knew she was thinking about him, Will had materialized next to her right before she rounded the corner to the hallway where his and Warren’s lockers were located. It seemed too perfect, too opportune.

“Hey Layla, excited for homecoming?” he asked cheerily as they walked together, a tentative smile pulling one corner of his mouth upwards. She figured he knew that she was on her way to find Warren; whether or not that fact still bothered him, though, was a mystery to her. But she could try to find out - now was a good time to remind him of who she would be going to the dance with, and hopefully it would inspire just a little bit of envy.

“Of course I am!” she said with as much conviction as she could muster, trying not to show exactly how nervous the thought of homecoming actually made her. For good measure, she added, “Warren and I are going to have such an amazing time-”

“There you are, Will! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Gwen Grayson’s grating voice had interrupted Layla mid-sentence. She swooped in from behind them, on the opposite side of Will, and grabbed his hand to abruptly pull him away without any protest on his part. Layla was left standing alone in the middle of the hall, shocked, as Gwen looked back at her and sent her a scathing glare. It all happened so fast that she barely had time to process it.

So, Will wasn’t even allowed to speak to her anymore?!

Warren approached her slowly then, bag slung across his shoulder. He raised a brow and looked after the couple, seemingly having witnessed the incident.

“I’m no relationship expert, but… It is way too obvious that she’s threatened by you,” he said, echoing the observation that he had made weeks before.

Layla turned to him, looking bewildered, “I just… I just don’t get it.”

“What is there not to get?” Warren asked rhetorically, leading her over to his locker. “Only someone who’s insanely insecure would act the way she does.”

She shook her head, “I mean, I don’t get why Will doesn’t see that she’s so controlling. Regardless of whether or not she’s as insecure as you say she is.”

Warren shrugged as he put his combination in, not particularly thinking as he spoke, “Well, it’s no surprise to me, considering he doesn’t even see that he has another girl who’s into him that’s more interesting, and just as smart and pretty-”

Shit.

He didn’t realize exactly what he’d said until after the words left his mouth and it was too late. He’d been able to catch himself the first time weeks ago before he admitted out loud that Layla was good-looking… But now, it had slipped through carelessly, much too easily for Warren’s liking. It made him want to incinerate on the spot from embarrassment.

On the contrary, hearing that statement from Warren made Layla’s heart do a little leap in her chest. She leaned up against the locker next to his and regarded him quizzically, “So, you think I’m interesting, smart, and pretty?”

“Uh… Yeah. I guess,” he answered hesitantly, feeling his face burn yet keeping his expression neutral. Trying to sound nonchalant, he added, “Why else would Gwen try so hard to keep Will away from you?”

Layla bit back a smile, looking down at her green Keds. Warren thought she was interesting, smart, and pretty. The idea shouldn’t have made her feel as warm and giddy as it did, but nevertheless, it made her self-confidence do a complete one-eighty.

If he believed those things to be true about her, she should in theory be able to make Will see it, too.

She dared to look over at Will and Gwen across the hallway. Sure, Layla was a pacifist in the traditional sense, but then and there she resolved to fight this metaphorical battle to the very end. If they didn’t break up before homecoming, she decided, she would find a way to get Will alone at the dance and tell him everything she’d wanted to say that day at the bus stop. And in the meantime, she would keep trying to make him notice her.

At this point, what did she have left to lose?

Wednesday, October 5th, 2005 - 10:45am

Despite the cooling fall temperatures on the ground below, the Sky High campus was bathed in a year-round shroud of sunshine thanks to the latest in climate-controlled force field technology. Naturally, many of the students decided to take advantage of it during their free period, and Warren was no different - although they gave him a wide berth, like they typically did. Sitting alone in his own spot on the steps at the front of the main school building, he opened up Layla’s next classic literature pick for him, Anna Karenina, and was immediately hooked from the first line.

“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

This Tolstoy guy definitely got that right.

Just as he started a new chapter, Layla herself bounded up the steps in a red-headed blur, making her way over. Warren hadn’t even seen her coming. She sat down next to him and slipped her hand into his so quickly and easily that he didn’t even realize what was happening; at least not until she pulled it toward her and gushed animatedly, “Hey there cutie! So I was just thinking about you.”

Cutie? What? Did this have something to do with his slip-up in calling her pretty earlier?

Warren ripped his eyes away from the page he was on, glancing down and seeing Layla’s pale, delicate fingers wrapped around his own. The way she gently cradled his hand sent a little current of electricity up his arm that radiated all the way through him. He slowly looked up at her and she was practically beaming, all bright eyes and white teeth and glossy pink lips. His heartbeat hastened and he swore he could hear it filling his ears, the pounding rhythm awakening all of the feelings he had been trying to repress over and over again, but he could deny no longer. Like pieces of a puzzle fitting themselves perfectly together, the big picture suddenly became clear.

It was at that moment Warren came to the frightening realization that he had, completely and without a doubt, fallen for Layla Williams.

How delusional had he been over the last couple of weeks to keep convincing himself that everything he felt toward her had been rooted solely in friendship? It may have started out that way, sure. But thinking back to last week on Thursday, when that inkling of doubt set in, it all began to make sense. He’d never even had a real friend before her, much less felt anything more than that for someone. Being in love was never something he’d considered as a possibility.

Yet, here he was, absolutely kicking himself, because he was unequivocally in love with Layla.

She kept talking, although he could barely register what she was saying, “I cannot wait until homecoming, I’m so excited, I…”

Layla had trailed off suddenly, head turning in the opposite direction. Warren, expression as guarded as ever, looked past her and saw what had stolen her attention - Gwen and Stronghold, of course, walking away from them hand-in-hand.

There it was; the stark reminder of why he was even in this situation in the first place. He loved her, as he’d now established, but she… She loved someone else. And maybe, just maybe, it would hurt a little less if that person wasn’t the son of the man who’d put his father in jail.

Her grand jealousy scheme, as crazy as it seemed from the start, had worked - but not on its intended target. The fake-dating game they were playing had succeeded in making someone jealous… Except it wasn’t Stronghold who was left with feelings of envy. Warren couldn’t stop his resentment for Will from bubbling up to the surface. It was something that had always been there, but it had changed, along with his feelings for Layla. The loathing now stemmed from something more than just their family rivalries. And it was so stupid, so high school of him to be jealous of the very guy who he was helping the object of his affections try to win over.

It had become one messed up, convoluted love triangle, and Warren couldn’t help but find just a little bit of dark humor in the fact that both he and Layla were enamored with the one person they couldn’t have.

Despite knowing this, watching her look wistfully after him sent a pulse of hot anger coursing through Warren’s veins. Before he even registered it, the hand of his that she was still holding smoldered and ignited in a quick burst of flames that was extinguished almost as soon as it started. Layla winced, immediately dropping his hand and looking at him in shock. He felt bad for hurting her, but he knew that the flame wasn’t intense enough to cause any real kind of damage.

“Never call me cutie,” he said with just a hint of acidity, hoping that was enough to mask the real reason he’d lost his cool. He flipped his book closed and grabbed his bag, wanting to get away before she had the chance to figure him out, just like she always did. The only thing scarier to Warren than realizing that he had inadvertently fallen in love with Layla would be if she realized it, too.

Obviously, he wasn’t actually pissed at her. How could he be? He was pissed at himself. Pissed because he let her in, because he had let it get this far knowing the circumstances that had brought them together. Because he knew that they would never be together.

Because he was not, and never would be, Will fucking Stronghold.

“Warren!”

Hearing her call out to him made him pause toward the top of the staircase. He turned around reluctantly to see her following after him, her giant dangling earrings swinging violently as she rushed to catch up. Warren would have found it downright comical had he not been currently trying to quell the wildfire of emotions sweeping its way through him.

Her breathing was labored from the exertion of chasing after him up the stairs, but she managed to say in a voice so sincere that it made him feel bad, “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize calling you that would upset you.”

Truthfully, he wouldn’t have minded at all if she did it again. Considering the only person who’d ever addressed him with terms of endearment before was his mom, it would take some getting used to, but it felt kind of nice to hear it coming from Layla… Especially now that he was acutely aware of his feelings for her no longer being just of the platonic variety. However, he couldn’t let her know that. Any of that.

Warren sighed, glancing down at her wide eyes. Again, he felt horrible, seeing her upset because of the way he had treated her in the heat of the moment.

“Did I hurt you?” he inquired in a quiet voice, motioning to her left hand, which she was still rubbing absentmindedly.

“What?” she asked, taken aback by his sudden change of topic. She looked down at her hand and immediately dropped it to her side. “Oh. No, not really. It just stung a little bit.”

God, he really felt like an asshole. Maybe not quite on-par with how Stronghold was behaving, but still. He needed to try harder to control his temper, lest he finally scare Layla away.

“Well, it was an overreaction on my part, so…”

She tentatively moved up the few steps that separated them to stand next to him.

“You know what? Let’s just forget that it even happened,” she suggested, giving a nervous smile.

Putting it behind them as quickly as possible was a good idea. Any more dwelling on it could potentially lead her to realizing the reason he’d given for his outburst had been a lie. Lying to Layla wasn’t exactly something Warren was thrilled to do, but what alternative did he have? He couldn’t tell her how he felt about her… Not when she was pining after the one person he had sworn to hate.

“Sure,” he replied simply, swallowing down just a hint of guilt.

Warren felt bad about his little blunder, but he knew she’d forgive him. She probably already had, and much like the misunderstanding from last week, it would no doubt be forgotten about by the following day. Conversely, he couldn’t just simply forget about how he had let himself fall so stupidly in love with a girl who he was certain would never feel the same way about him.

As far as Layla’s “painless” fake-dating idea went, it was becoming more and more apparent that someone would end up heartbroken. Warren had never anticipated at the start of it all that the someone in this situation could very well be himself.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, October 5th, 2005 - 7:48pm

Trying to get any homework done tonight, it seemed, was a futile endeavor for Warren. It felt all but impossible for him to focus on the questions about hostage situations he was supposed to be answering from his Advanced Emergency Management and Conflict Mediation textbook, which had been sitting in front of him on his desk, neglected, for the last forty-five minutes. There was something else entirely weighing on his mind. Or, more accurately, it was someone on his mind: the freshman sidekick who, for all intents and purposes, had taken his heart hostage within just a few weeks of him knowing her.

It was an alarming thought.

Somehow he’d been able to keep it together for the rest of the school day after that moment on the steps. By lunch, things between him and Layla had appeared to be back to normal, and she didn’t act like she suspected anything - in fact, it almost seemed as if she’d doubled-down on the efforts in her scheme. Warren had caught her, on more than one occasion, glancing at Stronghold (did she always look over at him so much?) and felt the jealousy once again start to rise like bile in his stomach.

He couldn’t for the life of him understand what Layla saw in Will… Not before, and certainly not now. Aside from his pedigree he was just your standard, run-of-the-mill kid in the hero track. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about him. And for someone who had supposedly been her best friend since childhood, he definitely didn’t act like it. He’d taken her kindness for granted multiple times over and treated her as disposable. But the more Stronghold seemed to push Layla away, the more she tried to reel him back in. It was maddening.

And why, out of everyone at this school, did it have to be her? Layla Williams was, in Warren’s eyes, quite possibly the most unattainable girl he could have fallen in love with.

Warren huffed out a sigh, pulling his book closer toward him to re-read the first question again for what felt like the millionth time:

1. Stockholm syndrome is the psychological phenomenon that occurs when hostages develop an emotional bond and/or alliance with their captors in hostage or kidnapping situations. What are the symptoms that characterize this condition?

It was an easy enough question. For the first time since before his mother had called him to dinner that evening, he put his pen to the paper of his notebook and began scribbling out the answer, trying to put Layla out of his head long enough for him to finish the assignment. But it all started to unravel as he listed the last symptom: belief in the captor’s humanity.

That was exactly it, he reckoned. That was why he’d fallen for her. Well, it wasn’t exactly a hostage situation, but still… It was simple.

She was the only one in the super community (besides his mom) who treated him like a human being.

While everyone else tiptoed around him like he was a ticking time bomb, as if a switch would flip at any second and he’d really live up to the reputation of a supervillain's son, she’d extended to him all of the grace and kindness in the world. She treated him like a person. Despite the reason for their getting to know each other, she wanted to know him and befriend him and continue to be friends with him regardless of if the fake dating thing worked or not. She’d made that clear enough.

Layla liked him and she liked being around him - a concept so novel that Warren had flat out refused to believe it at first. No wonder he’d also refused to see his true feelings for her.

However, it wasn’t the only thing that had caused him to fall so hard. That alone would be unreasonable. Although saying it out loud had been an accident, he’d meant it when he’d called her interesting and smart. She was the one person his age he could talk to without wanting to rip his hair out, and she was able to keep up with his sarcasm in that good-natured way that was distinctly her own. He figured she had plenty of practice with Magenta as far as the latter went, but that was besides the fact.

And of course she was pretty. Even with all of the quirky green outfits and crazy updos that she was partial to, there was no denying that she was good-looking. Any idiot with eyes would agree. Her smile was about the only thing he could think of that could totally disarm him and leave him so flustered he could barely speak, and-

God. He was in deep.

Absolutely sickening.

Warren tossed his pen to the side and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and letting out a frustrated groan. Life was so much easier when he was still able to bury his feelings instead of, you know… Feeling them.

His eyes went reflexively to the wall above his desk, covered in posters of the bands he liked: Disturbed, Pantera, Drowning Pool, Gojira, Slipknot, Lamb of God… All musicians he figured Layla had more than likely never heard of. He couldn’t imagine her listening to anything that angry and vulgar. As he made a mental note to find out what kind of music she did like, his gaze flickered to the place on the wall where the little green sticky note with her name and phone number lived. It had been there since the very night she’d given it to him; even when he’d put her number in his phone’s contact list, he’d for some reason kept it up despite an embarrassing inquiry from his mom. The piece of paper stuck out in stark contrast and looked out of place between the mostly black and red photos surrounding it - a little bright spot in the darkness.

Not unlike her presence in his life.

The soft buzz of his cell phone indicating an incoming text message redirected his attention. After all, there was really only one person who would possibly be texting him at this time on a Wednesday evening.

Layla Williams: Library on sunday?? :) If ur not busy.

Seeing her name illuminate the screen made Warren’s heart skip a beat. Of course he wasn’t busy on Sunday, and of course he would jump at the opportunity to hang out with her alone again. He knew he’d admitted to her that he enjoyed spending time with her, yet he still went back and forth in his mind on how to reply so as to not seem too invested in the idea. He settled on as few words as possible.

Outgoing text: Sure.

A minute passed, and his phone buzzed again.

Layla Williams: Yay! :) Meet u there this time if u want.
Layla Williams: is noon ok again?

Warren couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at the fact that his mom wouldn’t have another opportunity to humiliate him this time.

Outgoing text: Fine with me.
Layla Williams: Awesome!! Need 2 think of a new book 4 u.
Layla Williams: U read so fast LOL

Warren was a fast reader - it’s not like he had many other hobbies besides that, working out, and maybe experimenting with cooking in The Paper Lantern’s kitchen on days when business was slow (if one counted that as a hobby). He’d already made his way through most of Layla’s favorite novels at this point. He thought back to the first one, the one that started it all: Pride and Prejudice. Layla was so like Elizabeth Bennet; witty, bold, outspoken, unswayed by the opinions of others and how they thought she should live her life. He admired all of that about her. But was he a Mr. Darcy? Aside from maybe the guy’s most irredeemable qualities, Warren didn’t think so.

Truthfully, Warren didn’t think he himself possessed any qualities that were redeemable. And what did it matter? Insufferable personality or not, he wouldn’t get the girl. Real life wasn’t like a romance novel; at least not for him.

If anything, he thought, he was more like the title character in his own favorite piece of literature: Hamlet. Bitter, cynical, vengeful, volatile. Regardless of how he loved Layla, he knew he wasn’t good for her in the same way that Hamlet wasn’t good for Ophelia.

But was it really that he was no good for Layla… Or more that Layla was too good for him? Yes, that had to be it. There was no way he deserved her. Hell, if he was being honest, there was no way Stronghold deserved her, either.

…So this is what it had come to. Using classic literature as an allegory for his nonexistent love life.

How pathetic of him.

He didn’t respond to Layla’s last two text messages, instead tossing his cell phone behind him onto his bed and trying to focus once again on his assignment. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying went.

If only it was really that simple.

Sunday, October 9th, 2005 - 12:03pm

By the time Warren had walked up to the entrance of the library, he’d found Layla there already, sitting and waiting for him on the front steps next to the potted chrysanthemums that had been there since their last visit. He caught her eye as he approached, and she flashed a smile so exuberant that he wondered how it could have possibly been meant for someone like him.

The long bell sleeves of her crocheted green cardigan fluttered as she stood and collected her tote bag from its spot on the stairs next to her. Warren had brought his own school bag with him today, too - he’d somehow convinced Layla during one of her visits to The Paper Lantern this week that they should stay at the library for a while and do homework together. He claimed he was listening to his mom’s advice and trying to get out of the house more, to go somewhere other than school or work. In reality, he was just finding any excuse to spend more time around her.

Luckily, it didn’t seem like she had discovered this ulterior motive of his.

“I think I finally figured out what you’ll be reading next,” she announced, following him to the entrance as he held open one of the double-doors for her, like he did the last time they had come. “It’s a little different than what I’ve been giving you so far, though.”

“Do I get a hint, at least?” Warren asked as she led them to the circulation desk, secretly hoping that Judy wasn’t working this afternoon.

“Nope,” Layla said with a sly grin, plopping her little stack of books down on top of the desk as a librarian made her way back behind it. To Warren’s displeasure, it was indeed Judy.

He knew he really shouldn’t care what some old lady thought about him. But the way she’d looked at him the first time he came here with Layla reminded him of the way someone might grimace at a cockroach that had invaded their home - as if he was intruding on Layla’s life, as if he didn’t deserve to be in her presence. So what if he didn’t think he deserved Layla? He was allowed to think that about himself. But a perfect stranger? He tried not to roll his eyes as she turned toward them.

“Good afternoon, Layla. I see you’ve brought your, er, boyfriend with you again?” Judy asked, adjusting her glasses as she gave him a sweeping glance that was less scathing than it had been two weeks ago. He’d dressed a little differently this time, layering his black band t-shirt over a white long sleeved shirt and foregoing his leather jacket altogether. He’d even tied his hair back like he usually did for work. “Darren, isn’t it?”

At the mention of the word boyfriend, Warren stiffened. The only people that should think they were dating were the students and staff of Sky High - and Judy was without a doubt just a civilian. He glanced down at Layla, whose face was turning the shade of a ripe tomato.

“Warren,” she corrected the librarian softly. “His name is Warren.”

Strangely enough, she made no attempt to rectify Judy’s boyfriend comment.

“Oh, sorry. Warren,” Judy echoed, clearly not picking up on how awkward she had made the moment. She motioned to the small stack of books Layla had brought. “Are you returning these?”

“Yes,” Layla squeaked out, cheeks still flushed as she looked for her escape. “Well, we have a lot of homework to do, so…”

“...Yeah,” Warren agreed, not being particularly helpful but also wanting to get away from the desk as quickly as possible.

He watched as Layla turned to go, but remembered he had brought Anna Karenina to return. He quickly fished it out of his bag, not wanting to be left alone with Judy any longer than necessary, and placed it next to Layla’s pile. The name of the book on the very top grabbed his attention - it was a title that he hadn’t heard about in a few weeks, but seeing the words shining up from the cover in gold foil calligraphy brought him back to the day Layla had told him about it. It was the very first time he had really noticed the effect she was beginning to have on him. He remembered the smell of her perfume, the way it felt almost intoxicating for her to sit so close to him. Looking back, it was no doubt when his feelings began to transition from friendship into something more. He had been so in denial that he hadn’t realized how soon it’d actually started to happen.

The book sat there unassumingly, innocently, as if it wasn’t a reminder of a moment that had felt so confusing at the time, but looking back, held more clarity than he could have ever imagined.

The Language of Flowers.

He could almost hear Layla gushing about it just as she had done that day - and he vaguely remembered himself wondering if he’d ever have anything in his life worth caring about as much as she cared about plants. At the time, he had no idea that the answer to that hypothetical question had been sitting right next to him.

Warren finally peeled his eyes away from the cover of the book and looked up to find Layla waiting for him just a few feet away, shuffling from foot to foot. The color in her cheeks had mostly subsided, but she still looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. When he finally moved to join her, she began to lead him through the maze of bookshelves in a different direction than they had gone the previous time they’d visited.

At last Layla stopped at the poetry section. She looked up at him sheepishly and said in a hushed tone, “I am so sorry Judy called you by the wrong name. I promise you, she’s usually very sweet.”

He shrugged, “It’s not your fault. I just don’t think she likes me very much.”

They gazed at each other for what felt like eons, both of them wondering if the other would say something about the fact that the librarian had so brazenly referred to Warren as Layla’s boyfriend. The silence between them was deafening.

In all honesty, the woman’s comment had made Layla ask herself… If even people outside of Sky High assumed they were dating, did that mean their act was too convincing? Did her and Warren actually seem like a couple? Was that why nothing she did seemed to be working to make Will want to leave Gwen and admit that he belonged with her instead?

And the most baffling question that came to mind: was she really compatible with Warren Peace?

It felt like a betrayal to Will to even admit it to herself, but as she stood there in between the stacks of books and studied the face of the misunderstood guy who had opened up to her over the past month like a rare flower that only bloomed once every few years… A tiny part of her thought that just maybe, she was.

Before she could let that preposterous idea really take root in her consciousness, she turned toward the rows of books beside her and searched for the collection of poems she had decided upon while sitting on the steps - Sylvia Plath’s Ariel. Warren seemed a little surprised at her selection, taking it apprehensively from her hands as she held it out for him.

“Plath? Isn’t that a little dark for you, hippie?” he asked with a hint of a smirk, raising a brow in amusement. His tongue-in-cheek inquiry had alleviated whatever tension was in the air, for which Layla was grateful.

She gave him a joking little smile in return, “Just because I’m not a grumpy-pants like you doesn’t mean everything I’ve ever read is all rainbows and sunshine.”

Layla brushed past him, now intent on finding them the perfect study spot. Warren trailed after her once again.

“Did you seriously just call me a grumpy-pants?” he questioned, his tone incredulous.

She’d located a table in the corner of the history section, without another soul in sight, and claimed the side closer to the window.

“Clearly you don’t mind it as much as you did when I called you cutie,” she quipped, pulling a textbook out of her bag along with a notebook and an army of multi-colored pens.

“You’re something else,” Warren muttered as he slid into the chair opposite the redhead, garnering a little giggle from her. He wanted to tell her how he really hadn’t minded being called cutie at all - but he didn’t. Instead, he watched intently as she flipped to the chapter she was meant to be studying, pondering if there would ever come a time where he could tell her.

Layla felt his eyes on her, observing her in that quiet, pensive way of his.

“What?” she asked, bemused, peering up at him through her lashes. She couldn’t figure out why he kept looking at her like that.

Warren shook his head abruptly, reaching for his own homework now, “Nothing.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence then, and Layla got to work on one of her assignments. Warren pretended he was studying, but in reality, he couldn’t focus on his textbook for any meaningful length of time. Not when he had to consciously remind himself to stop sneaking glances at her - at her hair, which she had worn down for once, at her lips, covered in her signature peach-colored gloss and parted ever so slightly in concentration. He realized he needed to get a grip after catching himself wondering whether or not her lip gloss tasted like peaches… As if he’d ever get a chance to find out.

In an effort to not think like such a stupid clichéd teenage boy, his mind wandered back to the book. Not Sylvia Plath’s collection of poems, but the book, the one that had subtly caught his eye earlier. Layla had seemed to find it so interesting, cool even, that people used to use flowers to send each other messages. And if she found it interesting enough to keep the book for the full library-allotted twenty-one days, maybe it was worth reading himself. He knew she’d never hand-pick it for him as a part of their little literature exchanges - so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

He slid back in his chair and stood up quickly, making sure to grab his bag so he’d have something to hide the evidence in. The sudden movement caused Layla to look up from her work inquisitively.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, garnering a little nod from her before she turned back to her textbook.

Warren really wasn’t looking forward to having to see Judy again, but he knew what he needed to do. He made his way back through the stacks and approached the circulation desk slowly, hands in his pockets. The older lady was typing rapidly at her computer, the clicking sound of the keys the only noise filling the space. Whether on purpose or not, she paid no mind to him until he cleared his throat to get her attention.

She lifted her gaze from the computer screen as she regarded him, “Ah. Darren. What can I do for you?”

Warren ignored her blatant use of the wrong name for a second time, “I, uh, want to check out a book. But I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been put back out onto the shelf yet.”

“And which would that be?” Judy asked, turning back toward her computer, no doubt ready to check the library’s database to see if he was lying or not.

“Uh… The Language of Flowers.”

Chapter Text

Monday, October 10th, 2005 - 12:20pm

“Okay, so like, say there was already a fire burning. Could you use your powers to put it out? Or would your powers only make the fire bigger? Or, can you make it smaller but not put it out completely…”

Warren tried - and failed - to not audibly sigh at highlighter kid Zach’s vexing interrogation about his powers. For the first time, he’d found himself stuck at the lunch table with all of Layla’s sidekick friends sans Layla. The only thing keeping him from leaving was the expectation that she would eventually show up - she’d have normally been here by now. Tardiness was not typical of her. His eyes scanned the cafeteria, trying to discern her from the mass of students by the endearingly ridiculous hairdo she was wearing today.

“Enough, Zach. Maybe he doesn’t know if he can do any of that yet,” Magenta disputed, trying to put an end to his questions. Warren gave her a little look of gratitude, which she acknowledged with a barely discernible nod.

Out of all of Layla’s friends, he was growing the most fond of Magenta. He appreciated the way she was able to reel the other two in when they started to overstep or say something absurd. But he was beginning to surmise that she knew more than she let on about the nature of his fake relationship with Layla - if the way she’d been studying him recently had been any indication. She had a good poker face, but even that couldn’t prevent him from occasionally spotting her watching their interactions with earnest curiosity at lunch. He wondered if she was somehow able to see the longing he was desperately trying to hide, much like he had seen right through Layla that first night at The Paper Lantern when she’d admitted to her crush on Will.

But surely, he couldn’t be that transparent, could he?

Zach continued despite her objection, “Okay, but hear me out. Can you melt through-”

The clatter of a lunch tray hitting the table interrupted him mid-sentence, as Layla had at last joined them with serendipitous timing.

“So sorry I’m late,” she said in a rush, sliding into the empty spot next to Warren and placing a little stack of papers in the center of the table. She seemed a bit frazzled, but otherwise in good spirits. “I started hanging these up around the halls and got a little carried away. Feel free to take some if you want.”

“What are they?” asked Ethan, peering at them over his own lunch tray.

Warren immediately picked one up. The paper was filled with empty lines and clipart of bees in the margins, underneath a paragraph of text listing plants like Rudbeckia hirta and Monarda fistulosa. It might as well have been a made-up language.

“It’s a petition,” Layla stated proudly, picking up her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, “To ask the Maxville City Council to start planting native pollinators in parks and other green areas in the city come springtime. That way we can better support the local bee population.”

Ethan eyed her with speculation, “Why not just grow them yourself? You totally could.”

“Well, think about it - if the city gets on board with this, then it could spread to the rest of the county. And the state. And then to other states. And eventually, hopefully, the whole country,” effused Layla, gazing off optimistically into space as if picturing a utopian society where manicured grass lawns were a thing of the past. Warren noticed how this, like her flower book, made her glow with excitement. Clearly, this was a cause that was important to her - of course he would support it, no matter how lofty the goal seemed.

“Sounds like a solid idea,” he said, garnering a wide grin from her as he pulled a pen out of his bag to put his signature on the very first line at the top of the page. He couldn’t help but to give her a slight smile back, glad that such a small gesture could make her so happy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Magenta watching the exchange. Something in the way her subtly narrowed gaze flickered from him, to Layla, then back to him confirmed his suspicions.

He’d been caught. She certainly knew something was up.

“I’m down to save the bees, too. Hand it over, Warren,” she requested, motioning for him to pass over the paper. He handed it to her while hesitantly making eye contact, trying to figure out exactly what she was hypothesizing. Unfortunately for him, Magenta was just as good as he was (if not better) at hiding what was really going on inside of her head.

“But what if I’m allergic to bees?” Zach asked, looking apprehensively between Layla across from him and Magenta to his left.

Magenta rolled her eyes as she wrote her name down on the line below Warren’s, “Just sign it.”

Monday, October 10th, 2005 - 1:17pm

PE was without a doubt Layla’s least favorite class. Not necessarily because she didn’t like exercise - she loved things like going for walks outside, for example - but more so because it was one more glaring reminder of the disparities between heroes and hero support. Plus, it seemed that Coach Boomer took every opportunity to be as insufferable as he possibly could.

“Heroes! In the middle!” he barked, standing atop the giant Sky High logo adorning the center of the gym floor. Around him, grappling dummies were placed at intervals spanning the length of the court. “It’s time for a little hand-to-hand combat training. Sidekicks, laps, now!”

There was almost a collective sigh among the hero support kids as they resigned themselves to the perimeter of the gym. Layla, Magenta, Zach, and Ethan reluctantly joined in, filing into place as the students in front of them began to jog.

“Ugh,” groaned Zach, watching wistfully as the freshman and sophomore heroes dispersed themselves among the dummies, “They always get to do the cool stuff. Why can’t we learn how to fight, too?”

“Yeah,” Ethan chimed in, “It’s so not fair. We’re gonna be saving the world with them!”

“No, we’re just the ones who will be watching from the background in matching-colored tights. Not actually fighting alongside them,” Magenta scoffed.

The four friends began to pick up a little bit of speed, moving in sync with the rest of the blue-and-orange clad hero support students as they trotted around the gym. Layla was silent as she jogged, save for her labored breathing. She occasionally glanced over in the middle at Will, who was clearly doing very well with today’s lesson due to the help of his powers - even the most basic of punches sent his dummy crashing to the ground, much to Boomer’s approval.

“One, two, strike!” he yelled repeatedly like a drill sergeant, seeming to pay little to no attention to the sidekicks circling around him.

Magenta must have noticed her wandering eyes, because all of a sudden Layla felt her friend nudge her with her shoulder.

“Walk and talk?” she asked breathily as she matched her stride. Layla nodded enthusiastically, and the two girls slowed their pace to a brisk walk.

“It’s so lame that Boomer makes us run right after lunch. I’m cramping up,” Magenta complained, rubbing at a spot below her ribcage.

“I know,” Layla sighed, trying to catch her breath. “It’s like he’s trying to torture us.”

They both watched as Will received high-fives from his hero friends and a pat on the back from Coach Boomer after inadvertently putting a hole into the chest of his dummy with a particularly forceful attack. Layla winced at the brutality.

Magenta nodded her head in Will’s direction, “Any progress on the plan? You know, since homecoming is this Saturday.”

Layla bit her lip contemplatively. The simple answer was no; her plan was going nowhere, despite her best efforts. The complicated answer, on the other hand, was that she was growing tired of it all. The competing for attention, the pretending, the jealousy. She cared about Will, of course, but what if…

What if they just weren’t meant to be together?

It was a thought that had been worming its way into her subconscious for the past week, only to have been brought jarringly to the forefront of her mind yesterday at the library the moment Judy had referred to Warren as Layla’s boyfriend.

She’d been shocked to realize that the more time she spent around Warren, the less overall she thought about Will. Obviously she still thought about him - she missed her best friend more than anything - but she simply found herself less hung up on him in the moments that she and Warren were together. Layla had truly come to enjoy hanging out with him, and despite their obvious differences, it seemed as if they were kindred spirits. Once he finally let his guard down, it was surprising to see just how much they had in common. Being with him felt as easy and natural as breathing. Even though the dating part of the arrangement was fake, whatever was going on between them behind all of the smoke and mirrors was real.

But how could she explain any of this to Magenta? How could she put into words that she wasn’t so sure of her feelings for Will anymore? Especially since she had gone to such extreme lengths to try to make him as jealous as she’d felt seeing him with Gwen.

And how could she dare say out loud that it was all because there was a teeny-tiny-miniscule-little chance that she was developing a crush on Warren Peace?

A pair of fingers snapping in front of her face brought her back to gym class.

“Layla. Hello,” Magenta said, raising a brow at her friend. It was unlike her to be this spacey. “The plan? How’s it going?”

Layla opened her mouth to give as generic of an answer as possible, but was cut off by Boomer’s stern, resonant voice.

“Flower child! Purple kid! Did I tell you sidekicks were walking today?” he yelled, the question reverberating around the gym.

“No, Coach Boomer,” the girls replied in unison, both picking up the pace to a slow jog and leaving Layla alone with her thoughts once again.

She’d made up her mind: if Will just so happened to still be with Gwen by the end of homecoming, she would quietly and unceremoniously put her plan to rest and accept defeat. It wasn’t at all what she had envisioned a month ago at the start - but what other choice was there? This charade couldn’t go on forever. She would have to start figuring out how to get over her feelings for Will at some point.

Whether she wanted to believe it or not, a small part of her already had.

Tuesday, October 11th, 2005 - 8:57am

Deviating from his normal work schedule absolutely sucked, Warren decided. He was utterly exhausted. Initially, he thought that picking up a Monday evening shift at The Paper Lantern to make up for his day off for homecoming was a great idea (bills still needed to be paid and his Sky High tuition wasn’t getting any cheaper, after all). However, his lack of sleep last night had left him feeling more irritable than usual.

All everyone around him seemed to be talking about was the homecoming dance - everyone, that is, except for Layla. She’d started babbling at length about her foray into environmental activism almost as soon as she approached his locker that morning, continuing her monologue from yesterday. Though he’d be happy to listen to her talk about pretty much anything, the topic was a welcome distraction from the homecoming fanfare. Because, truth be told, he was a nervous wreck about the event.

It was so stupid - how could he, Warren Peace, be so on-edge about a dumb high school dance? It wasn’t like him to even care, considering he hadn’t been to a single school function since he started at Sky High. However, he knew it had less to do with the dance itself and more to do with the girl he’d agreed to accompany.

When Layla had first proposed her plan, all Warren intended to do was show up, hang around for about an hour, and go home… Enough to fulfill his end of the agreement and no more. But now that feelings were involved, it wouldn’t be so easy. It was unlikely at this point and a part of him knew it, but what if Stronghold did ditch Grayson and go for Layla instead? What would he do then? Hang around alone like a loser, or just up and leave with whatever dignity he still had intact? Both options would be equally as humiliating.

But what was even more terrifying was trying to figure out what to do if Layla didn’t end up with Will. Would it make him awful and tactless to make a move on her then? And if he somehow found the courage to do so, would she run away screaming, or by some miracle reciprocate? Regardless of their status as friends, Warren was more inclined to think it would be the former rather than the latter.

As the two of them took their daily walk past the ever-oblivious Will Stronghold in the direction of Mr. Boy’s classroom, Warren had to tell himself to snap out of it, lest he come off as trying to ignore her.

“...And the whole reason you want to choose plants that are native to your area is because sometimes, the pollinators that live there can only feed on those specific plants,” Layla was explaining at a mile a minute. “Essentially, they are on a special diet and can’t feed on just any flowers, you know? Plus native plants are adapted to the local climate already, so it doesn’t take as much work to keep them alive, unlike-”

She had stopped abruptly mid-sentence and mid-stride, eyes transfixed on the bulletin board by the entrance to the cafeteria. There, a sheet of paper printed with her petition that she’d hung up yesterday had been defaced with writing in thick black marker:

Shut up, sidekick

No one cares

Screw the bees

Hippie Freak

The last one in particular made Warren start to see red. Hippie was his nickname for her - how dare some asshole try to use it to humiliate her.

Her bottom lip began to quiver ever so slightly as she took a shaky breath in, her glassy eyes reading and re-reading the insults scribbled across her petition. Warren felt himself clench his fist almost involuntarily. His rage only grew the longer he watched her stand there, frozen, trying not to cry in the middle of the hallway. Without a second thought, he marched right up to the bulletin board, ignoring her as she reached out to stop him.

“Don’t. It’s okay, it’s fine,” she began to protest. People were watching now.

“It’s not fine, Layla,” he said, his voice acidic as he ripped the sheet off the board.

“Warren…” she pleaded, as some of the students around them began to snicker.

“You think this is funny?” he asked them coldly as he held up her ruined petition, his voice strangely calm but his face contorted into a dark scowl. In an instant, his hand as well as the piece of paper in it went up in a burst of flames. The paper disintegrated to ash, falling through his fingers and onto the ground. “I’ll show you something funny-”

Before he could make good on his threat (and potentially get himself another detention), Layla swooped in and grabbed him by the arm, towing him away from the group of wide-eyed students and in the direction of Mr. Boy’s room.

“It’s just a piece of paper. It’s alright,” she said as she led him down the hallway. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as well as him, though she seemed to have mostly recovered from the initial distress of seeing her petition vandalized. “I can put up another one.”

“That’s not the point,” Warren said through gritted teeth. He’d seen the effect those words had on her, if only for a brief moment - how could she just brush them off like they were nothing? If it were up to him, he’d make the culprit pay right then and there. “When I find out who wrote those things, I swear I’m gonna light their ass up like… Like…”

“I appreciate your chivalry, but that's really not necessary, Warren,” Layla insisted, letting go of his arm and taking hold of one of his hands instead, giving it a reassuring little squeeze.

Warren’s heart skipped a beat as she did so, his anger starting to melt away at her touch. Her hand felt so small and fragile in his own. But clearly, she herself wasn’t fragile.

Layla didn’t necessarily need him to defend her honor - although he had certainly been more than ready to. He knew she was strong-willed, if not a little stubborn, and had no problem standing up for herself or others. At the end of the day she wouldn’t let a few anonymous, cruel words tear her down completely. But he also knew that everyone had a breaking point, and he vowed to be there for her if she ever reached it… No matter if she was dating Stronghold or not.

She let her hand linger there for a moment longer and then let go, leaving Warren’s feeling strangely empty. They’d reached the classroom now, and Warren had never been so reluctant to part ways.

“Breathe,” she reminded him. “It’s okay.”

He nodded and obliged her request, not realizing that he had in fact been holding his breath the entire time she’d been holding his hand.

“Besides,” she continued, “I think I have an idea on how I can get my petition to gain some traction.”

Tuesday, October 11th, 2005 - 12:05pm

Warren knew that it was a bad idea as soon as Layla had told him what it was. He really didn’t want to see her crushed twice in one day (although, looking back on it, he figured he’d been more upset about the incident this morning than her). But once she decided what she was going to do, she was going to see it through, even if the probability of failure outweighed success… That was just Layla. Trying to convince her otherwise would be a lost cause.

So instead, he watched with bated breath from their usual lunch table as she grabbed her bag and crossed the cafeteria over to where Stronghold sat with Gwen, Penny, and a handful of other popular hero students. Magenta, Ethan, and Zach had appeared just in time to witness it too, following Warren’s line of sight across the room.

“What is she doing?” Magenta inquired, her voice dripping with confusion as the three of them sat down.

“Making a mistake,” Warren muttered, not at all expecting this to go well.

Layla, fueled by her special brand of blind optimism, approached Will and did her best to ignore the stares she got from the others at the table as they ceased their chatter.

“Hey Will, do you have a second?” she asked softly, her expression hopeful.

“Layla, hey! Yeah, of course I do,” he greeted, seeming happy to see her. “Wanna sit down?”

Layla was taken aback by his invitation - considering the way he’d allowed his new friends to exclude her and the rest of the sidekicks the first time he’d chosen to sit with them at lunch, she wasn’t sure if she was actually welcome or not.

“Oh, uh, sure,” she hesitated, making the mistake of meeting Gwen’s cold gaze as Will asked her to move over.

“Gwen, do you mind scooting over just a little bit?”

His girlfriend responded instead by sliding even closer to him, wrapping herself around his arm possessively and batting her eyelashes, “But Will, we were just in the middle of an important homecoming committee conversation…”

Layla shook her head and gave an apologetic look, reminding herself that she hadn’t come here to get into it with Gwen or make any headway on her plan. She had simply come seeking the support of her best friend.

“Actually, I don’t really need to sit. I’ll be quick,” she promised, fishing a copy of her petition out of her bag and handing it to Will. “So, I don’t know if you’ve seen, but I started a petition to give to the Maxville City Council encouraging them to plant native flowers around the city to save the bees.”

“That sounds really cool, Layla,” he said, grinning as he looked over her handiwork.

“You think so? I’m hoping that if the city will agree to it, that the movement will spread and-” Layla stopped herself mid-sentence, realizing she would easily get carried away if she wasn’t careful. She remembered the crowd she was currently in front of - she needed to curb her enthusiasm before she gave anyone else more reason to disparage her idea. “Anyways, I was just wondering if you could help get the word out and say you support it?”

Before Will could answer, Gwen snatched the sheet out of his hands, giving it a critical once-over.

“Seriously, Will? You’d want to have your name associated with this?” she cringed, giving him a look of disbelief.

He stuttered, “Well, it’s-”

“It’s a waste of the city council’s time. They have more pressing issues to deal with, like supervillain activity,” Gwen insisted, receiving a round of supporting nods from the rest of the heroes. “I mean, didn’t your parents just have to battle a giant robot downtown last month?”

Layla’s face immediately fell. This wasn’t going the way she hoped. She looked back to Will, silently pleading with him to say something, anything to advocate for her. It was the least he could do as her friend.

Will sighed, giving a reluctant nod, “Yeah, they did, but…”

“But?” Gwen asked as if daring him to contradict her, folding the piece of paper up into a little square and placing it on the side of her lunch tray. Her boyfriend looked between the two girls, unsure of what to say.

Layla swallowed down her disappointment. She’d had enough of watching Gwen gaslight Will into agreement with her - surely, he couldn’t actually think that something she cared so much about was a waste of time. Especially when he’d initially given his approval.

And yet…

She stood there silently, looking from face to apathetic face at Will’s table. Some of the Pennies began whispering to each other, their laughs barely concealed behind neatly manicured hands. Why did she think that this would have gone any other way? How could she have been so stupid?

“You know what,” she said, trying to not let her voice falter, “It’s fine, Will. Just forget I asked. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

Layla turned on her heel and walked away, not intending on returning to her own table. She’d lost her appetite, anyway. What she wanted was to be somewhere besides the crowded cafeteria. Any other day she’d have been able to grin and bear the embarrassment of being put down by Gwen; she had done it already a handful of times before. But this, coupled with the incident this morning, had taken a toll on her tenacity.

She powered past the tables of other students laughing and chatting among themselves as she made her way to the exit of the cafeteria. She glanced over and saw her friends watching her with thinly veiled looks of pity, no doubt noticing the forlorn look on her face. However, she made the mistake of locking eyes with Warren - there would be no persuading him she was okay this time. She looked away as quickly as she could, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag and rushing out the door.

“Oh, no,” murmured Magenta as she looked gravely at each of the other three sitting at the table, any trace of her usual sarcasm gone. “That’s not good.”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Warren said, quickly standing as he fought off the urge to go right up to Stronghold and give him a piece of his mind (and then some). The sidekicks looked at him with uncertainty.

“Do you want help finding her?” Magenta asked, getting herself ready to leave, too. “It’s not like you can go check inside the girls’ bathroom.”

Warren shook his head, not wanting to waste time explaining that he didn’t need help and it would be easier if he just went alone, “I know where she’s going. You guys stay here.”

“You do?” Ethan doubted.

“Yeah. Trust me.”

He just had to figure out how to get there.

The school’s garden was, just as Layla had said, tucked away outside below the windows of the cafeteria. Warren had to take a major detour to get there, going out a side door and following a dirt path around the building until he saw a tiny greenhouse (no doubt where Professor Medulla grew the plants he used in the mad science lab). Immediately adjacent to that was the garden in question; it was a modest collection of trees, shrubs, and flowers framed by vines that twisted up the walls of the school building.

Like she had promised him before, it wasn’t a very popular spot. It was easy for him to find her sitting against one of the trees, her head tilted back and supported by the trunk behind her. There were little patches of purple flowers at the base of the tree that looked out of place in the rest of the garden, growing in clumps next to her. As Warren got closer, he saw that her eyes were squeezed shut as if in meditation - but not for long. Layla opened them slowly, glancing up at him for a moment as he approached with caution.

“Did you make these?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could manage, sitting down across from her. He studied the blooms for a moment - purple hyacinths - immediately recognizing them from The Language of Flowers. He had started reading it promptly after returning home from the library on Sunday. In fact, the book was in his bag right now - but Warren knew that this was not the time to try and impress her with his newfound knowledge of flora.

Layla nodded in affirmation, running a hand over the petals that she had evidently willed from the ground.

“Yep. Hyacinthus orientalis,” she replied simply, hugging her knees up to her chest. “Hyacinths.”

“And what do they symbolize?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the book and not particularly liking it.

She didn’t look back over at him, her gaze set firmly on the ground, “Sadness.”

Neither of them spoke for a while, the rustle of a breeze in the leaves of the surrounding trees preventing them from sitting in total silence. Warren had no idea what Gwen or Stronghold said to her back in the cafeteria, but judging by the look on her face, it cut deeper than the petty insults had this morning. She didn’t just seem upset - she seemed despondent, crestfallen, like she had been let down. She looked exactly how she did when she’d been sitting alone at The Paper Lantern all those weeks ago, the very first time that Will hadn’t shown up for her.

Knowing the reason she’d gone over there in the first place, Warren suspected that Will had failed to show up for her once again - this time in a different and more significant way.

He broke the silence and asked tentatively, “...Do you wanna talk about it?”

Layla shook her head no, but Warren could see the tears welling up, threatening to escape onto her flushed cheeks. She sighed, attempting to blink them away.

“I just… Don’t know why I’m trying anymore,” she finally said, her voice thick with dejection. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her cardigan, continuing, “And it isn’t even about the plan. I don’t know why I try to talk to him anymore, as just his friend. I always get shut down by Gwen. And he does nothing about it, like I… Like I don’t mean a thing to him. So much for being best friends since first grade, huh?”

“Well… His loss, then,” uttered Warren, treading carefully. He didn’t want to accidentally say something to make her feel worse. “You’re a good person. It’s not your fault he let the popularity go to his head.”

Layla took a long, shaky breath, declaring, “Homecoming is his last chance. After that, if nothing changes… I’m done.”

There was a sense of finality in her voice that surprised Warren. He wondered if she would really follow through with it, knowing how much Stronghold meant to her. When he didn’t say anything, she rose up from her spot beneath the tree, causing him to follow suit.

“I’m pretty sure I’m late for my next class now,” she mused, grabbing for her bag that was still sitting in the grass. “Sorry for making you late, too.”

Warren shrugged as he met her eyes, “I care way more that you’re alright than I do about being late for class.”

And for the first time since that morning, Layla smiled.

Chapter Text

Thursday, October 13th, 2005 - 8:21pm

In two days - just forty-eight short hours - the Sky High gym would be filled with students dressed to the nines for the homecoming dance. It was the crux of Layla’s plan - however, everything was riding on what Will Stronghold would or wouldn’t do. It was a fact that perplexed Warren as much as it frustrated him, seeing as the guy had been putting Layla through enough emotional turmoil over the past month to last her entire high school career. He didn’t understand why she was giving him yet another chance. But regardless of how he felt, it would come down to one of two possibilities: either Will would ditch Gwen and choose Layla, or he’d stay with the older girl and Layla would put the plan (and any hope of reconciling with him) to rest for good. She’d made that clear enough on Tuesday in the garden.

Unfortunately for him, Warren was just as at a loss now of what to do in either situation as he had been that same morning. It was like an arduous game of chess in which Stronghold got to play with the white pieces, culminating in the disheartening realization that it really didn’t matter what his strategy was when he had to wait on Will to make the first move. The guy somehow always had the advantage.

Warren couldn’t help but think how it was just another way, albeit small in the grand scheme of things, in which the Stronghold family’s influence determined the course of his life.

Fantastic.

Now, sitting with Layla at her usual table at the Paper Lantern, Warren stole a glance at her after taking the last bite of his chop suey. She had gone on a passionate tangent about some project she was doing with Magenta for one of their classes, a presentation about equitable division of labor between hero and sidekick duos. It was a topic so Layla that it was almost comical.

He unwillingly looked away from her after taking in her enthusiastic glow, feeling completely unworthy. He knew he didn’t deserve her… How could he? Her power was to create, his was to destroy. She was optimistic, he was pessimistic. She cared about fairness and equality, he cared about revenge and retribution. She was everything good in this world, and he… Well, he was not. Everyone in the super community made sure he was aware of that.

Even if she and Stronghold didn’t end up together, Warren was convinced there was no way in hell that she’d want him the same way he wanted her. It was a fact of life: just as the sun always rose in the east and set in the west, just as the seasons always changed, the “bad guy” never came out on top.

Warren knew it all too well.

“Time for fortunes?” Layla asked excitedly as she noticed he’d finished his meal, her exuberance a stark juxtaposition to the way he was feeling inside.

“Sure.”

It was their newest ritual: Warren would bring over two fortune cookies when he came for his dinner break, they’d take turns choosing one, and then they’d read their fortunes out loud. It had been Layla’s idea originally, of course. Warren wasn’t exactly the superstitious type, but at this point, he figured that maybe a little bit of mystic wisdom would be beneficial for him. What did he have to lose?

…Only everything that had come to make his life worthwhile over the last month.

“You picked first last time,” she reminded him with a little smile, studying the two cookies sitting between them, then swiping the one on her right. Even if it wasn’t technically her turn, he’d still have let her pick first if she wanted.

It sounded a little bit insane, but as he reached to grab the remaining one, a part of Warren hoped that the fortune he ended up with would give him some kind of insight on what to do about this predicament of his. The other, more cynical part of him knew it was stupid to seek advice from a piece of paper shoved inside of a flimsy cookie… But he was starting to get desperate, and he loathed the feeling of desperation. Anything to help put an end to it would be welcomed, as far as he was concerned.

Layla hastily tore the wrapper off of her fortune cookie, cracking it open and removing the little slip of white paper inside. Warren wondered if she was also seeking some form of enlightenment… Something to help her cast her doubts about Will aside. As her eyes glossed over the fortune, whatever sentence printed there caused her lips to part slightly in surprise and both brows to arch up.

Warren eyed her with intrigue, “What could it possibly say to get that kind of reaction out of you? You will single-handedly prevent global warming?”

A rosy pink color spread over her cheeks as she shook her head, making her dangling sunflower earrings jingle. She hesitated for a millisecond before reciting, “Romance follows you, if you can only see it.”

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment until Layla averted her eyes, looking at anything and everything except for him. Warren swallowed hard, a feeling of unease creeping up slowly as they sat in silence. Did she suspect something? Had she finally figured out his feelings for her? Was she completely repulsed by the thought of it and only sticking around to be nice, as he suspected before?

She peaked at the fortune again and sighed lightly, muttering, “I feel like it’s making fun of me or something… Because there’s no way. The only thing that’s been following me lately is bad luck.”

Warren let go of the breath he’d been holding. He really needed to figure out how to stop jumping to the conclusion that she knew more than she let on - the anxiety that came along with it felt almost as awful as knowing that he wasn’t good enough for her.

“What if it’s not?” he suggested, not meaning for it to come out sounding so serious. Layla gave him a dubious look, managing eye contact once again.

“Doubt it,” she retorted, breaking off a small piece of cookie to eat before shifting the focus to him, “Well, what about yours?”

Warren looked down at the fortune cookie in his hands. He reminded himself to keep his expectations low as he freed it from its plastic shell and opened it up in search of the fortune inside. However, the message that was now staring up at him in tiny blue text was not what he’d anticipated. He furrowed his brows, feeling just a little bit duped.

“Bullshit,” he mumbled as he read it silently to himself again, garnering a small gasp from Layla.

“What does it say?” she asked, leaning toward him now with piqued interest.

He tossed the little paper on the table and she eagerly scrambled to snatch it up. Her curiosity turned into amusement as she read it out loud, barely able to stifle a laugh, “The fortune you seek is in another cookie.”

“And you thought yours was mocking you,” he griped, reclining into his side of the booth and biting back a smile as she giggled at his comment. He had to admit - it was kind of funny, even if it meant he was still no closer to figuring out what to do about the girl sitting across from him.

“Do you want to get another one and try again?” Layla asked between laughs. “I think you deserve a do-over.”

“No, it doesn’t matter,” he said, attempting his usual detached tone. All of the fortunes in the world wouldn’t help him regardless. “It’s all made up, anyways.”

Layla nodded in acknowledgement and turned the fortune around in her hands, glancing at the lucky numbers printed on the back before giving him an almost mischievous smile, “Kind of like how you made up that fortune for me the night Will stood me up?”

Warren, caught completely off-guard, couldn’t conceal his surprised reaction in time. He raised a brow at her question, only for her to grill him harder.

“Come on, don’t tell me you forgot. To let true love remain unspoken is the quickest route to a heavy heart? You seriously can’t drop that kind of wisdom and expect me to just let it go forever,” she said, her tone lighthearted but her gaze unwavering. “Actually, I think I still have the real one to prove it.”

As she rummaged around in one of the pockets of her bag, the fact registered that it had been exactly a month ago to the day that they’d first sat together at this very booth. The Warren that had given her that one-liner seemed like a completely different person than the Warren he was now - maybe, he supposed, that was the truth. In a way, he was a different person now: he didn’t find excuses to spend every waking second alone. He laughed (sort of). He smiled (on occasion). He opened up and trusted someone who wasn’t himself.

Warren realized with a start that he had changed over the past month, for the better, and it was all because of her.

“Hah! Here it is,” Layla finally said in triumph, pulling out the crumpled-up slip that had been shoved at the bottom of her bag for a month. She smoothed it out and placed it on the table, the visible side reading: A person of words and not deeds is like a garden full of weeds. “I knew it was in there somewhere. See? Totally not what you told me.”

Truly, Warren didn’t give a damn about the fortune. He didn’t even spare it a glance - he couldn’t, not when she was right there. He gazed at her softly, steadfastly, feeling like he owed her the world.

And she had no idea.

Layla peered back at him, her smile slowly fading and a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice as she asked, “...Why did you do that?”

Warren blinked rapidly, coming to his senses and finally recognizing that he’d been staring at her, “Do what?”

“Make it seem like what you said was the fortune, when it really came from you.”

He looked down at his own broken, uneaten fortune cookie on the table. Suddenly feeling self-conscious again, he sighed, “I don’t know. It just… Seemed easier.”

The only reason he’d played it off, he realized with a pang of shame, was because he had too much pride to admit to having any sort of deep thoughts or feelings in the first place. The unemotional, detached, indifferent image he portrayed had been too important. Back then, he wore it like an impenetrable suit of armor, protecting himself from the harsh truth that others only saw him as Barron Battle’s son. They had deemed him incapable of being anything else but a future villain in his own right, even if that wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to be - so that’s what he’d become. Letting the mask slip too much for a girl he just met would have been stupid, and gone against every sense of self-preservation he possessed… Yet, it had happened anyway.

Because of Layla, he’d learned that not everyone sought out the worst in him. He learned it was okay to be vulnerable, to have feelings other than anger and resentment, and that he could even trust someone else with said feelings. He didn’t have to hide behind his armor of apathy anymore.

That last part, however, was much easier said than done. Keeping all of this bottled up and to himself was easy, safe. He just couldn’t bring himself to say any of it out loud.

Layla was giving him that look again - it was one he hadn’t seen since the beginning of their friendship, like she knew he was withholding something and was desperately trying to figure out what that might be. The only thing that relieved Warren from the intensity of her gaze was the unexpected sound of his boss yelling for him from the kitchen. He was now late getting back to work, his break technically ending over five minutes ago.

“Oh,” Layla jumped at the sound, looking horrified, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Warren shook his head as he got to his feet, silencing her, “Not your fault, hippie. I wasn’t watching the clock.”

Nevertheless, she smiled apologetically at him as he retreated back to the kitchen, trading heated words in Cantonese with the older Chinese woman. Warren was thankful that Layla didn’t understand the language, otherwise he’d really have something to be self-conscious about.

“Warren, you’re late! Do you think I pay you to sit around with your girlfriend?” Mrs. Wong had said, appearing at the edge of the arch dividing the kitchen and dining room with a look of annoyance contorting her normally kind face.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Warren fired back. He glanced one more time at a blissfully unaware Layla before brushing past his boss in the direction of the sink, placing his dishes there to wash later.

“You think I’m stupid?” Mrs. Wong gave him a pointed look, shaking her head and making little tsk-ing sounds as she followed him.

He sighed as he turned to face her, admitting now that he was in the safety of the kitchen, “She’s into someone else.”

The woman took a step toward him and grasped his shoulders firmly, looking up directly into his eyes as she said, “Qīn'ài de, you are the designer of your own destiny.”

There was a beat of silence between them as her words fully registered with Warren…

You are the designer of your own destiny.

He thought back to one of the first real conversations he had with Layla the night he’d walked her home after she came to return his copy of Hamlet, when she’d stated definitively her belief in the idea that everyone had the power to change their fate. Maybe, he thought, she had been right.

Maybe he didn’t have to live according to the path that others had laid out for him. Maybe he didn’t have to be the victim of their narrative, or live as the villain in their story. Maybe, he really did have the power to change his destiny. He’d already been able to change himself, after all.

Which then begged the question: what if, when it came to Layla, there was a third option? What if he didn’t have to wait for Stronghold to make the first move?

Mrs. Wong let go of his shoulders, patting him on the arm before handing him an empty bin to collect dishes, “Tables three and five need cleaning.”

She smiled placidly and walked away, leaving him dumbfounded yet feeling more enlightened than he’d ever been before. Her sage advice made him recall once again the phrase that he’d told Layla, the one she’d just brought up a month after the fact:

To let true love remain unspoken, is the quickest route to a heavy heart.

Perhaps, that eloquent saying of his hadn’t just been meant for her, but for his future self, too.

Almost in a daze, he made his way back to the dining room to clear the tables. Reflexively, he glanced over at Layla - her red hair fell like a curtain around her face as she bent over her textbook, obscuring her features. Still, in looking at her, he came to his decision - he knew what he needed to do.

Warren was going to tell her how he felt at homecoming. He had to. He vowed to beat Will to it, if it came down to that. He’d find her first and confess to her the feelings he’d been relentlessly trying (and failing) to suppress. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, let a Stronghold win without him having an opportunity to change the outcome. Not again.

Regardless of how things turn out, it would finally be his turn to take control of his fate.

Friday, October 14th, 2005 - 7:44pm

Layla shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her favorite brown corduroy jacket as she made her way home from Magenta’s house. The girls had originally planned to get some work done on their midterm project for Mr. Boy’s class, and they had, but not without eventually divulging into talking about homecoming. It started off innocently enough, discussing things like what they'd be doing with their makeup and hair, and if Zach was technically Magenta’s date or if they were going strictly as friends (“We’ll see,” Magenta had said noncommittally). But the topic at hand soon became Layla’s plan - specifically, whether or not she should even see it through.

“Don’t you think, maybe… It might be better for you to just forget about the plan?” Magenta had asked tentatively, staring at the ceiling as she lay sprawled-out on her bed. She turned her head toward Layla, who was spinning herself around slowly in a swivel chair parked at the desk against the opposite wall. “So you can actually try to, I don’t know… Enjoy homecoming? This is our first one. And I know you care way more about it than I do."

Layla knew that Magenta had a point, and likely didn’t want to see her get hurt. She herself had even considered calling it off over a week ago. Plus, she was also still unsure of what she even felt for Will now. But she had come this far, all the way to the day before homecoming, without giving up. There was still a chance that Will would see the error of his ways and her efforts wouldn’t be all for naught.

Yet the thought was still there…

Did she even want to be with Will anymore?

In an effort to distract herself from that troubling thought, Layla had looked at the clock - it was past dinner time, and judging by the way her stomach rumbled, she should have gone home a while ago. Although she was grateful for the snacks Magenta had offered, she’d never expect her friend’s meat-eating family to cater to her vegetarianism. Besides, they had stopped being productive a while ago, anyway. She had excused herself home, thanked the Lewises for having her, and promised Magenta she’d see her tomorrow evening at homecoming.

Now, walking home alone, she turned onto Oak Avenue knowing full well that she would eventually pass Will’s house. An involuntary shiver that didn’t have anything to do with the cool fall air made its way down her spine.

It was already dark outside - the sun had set about an hour ago, the ever-shortening days a sure sign that winter was on the way. Layla wasn’t the biggest fan of the season. She, like the plants she grew and cared for, loved to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and bask in its life-giving light. Now, the only light she had was that of the streetlamps that lined the sidewalk.

And also, curiously, the orange glow of lights coming from inside a house just up ahead… A house that Layla was familiar with.

Will’s house.

She approached gradually and stopped in front of the path to the front porch, gazing at the windows to the living room. The curtains were drawn, blocking any sort of direct view in. However, it was easy to see the shadows that moved back and forth just beyond them, indicating to Layla that there were more people than just Will and his parents inside… A lot more people.

Had Will thrown a party?

She hesitated at the place where the sidewalk met the little steps up to the shrub-lined walkway, the sound of crickets chirping outside intermingling with the muffled voices of the students inside. At this point, it really shouldn’t have surprised Layla so much that Will would throw a party and not tell his sidekick friends about it. But the longer she stood there, the more her stomach began to twist into what felt like one giant, anxious knot. It was an unpleasant feeling that had started to become synonymous with anything having to do with Will Stronghold.

Layla drew in a deep breath, deciding against her better judgment to see just what was going on inside the Stronghold residence. She tentatively put one foot in front of the other, following the path leading to the front door. The closer she got, the more her pulse seemed to quicken. It was an overwhelming feeling, as if her heart had leapt right into her throat, leaving her almost unable to breathe. She turned the knob and opened the door just wide enough for her to slide in undetected.

There were people everywhere - all Sky High students, and all without a doubt from the hero class. Their laughs and conversations competed to be heard over the music blaring throughout the house. Layla barely recognized a single face she saw, save for Penny and Speed, as she stumbled her way around the partygoers in search of Will. The two seniors, who had taken notice of her arrival, glared at her unwelcomingly as if she were an outsider. An intruder. Speed positioned himself in the foyer so that his body blocked her access to the staircase, and Penny began stalking after Layla slowly like a territorial tiger.

More people were becoming aware of her presence as she made her way, wide-eyed, toward the dining room.

“Uh, why is she here?” a girl behind her wondered aloud as Layla pressed on, scanning the crowd for Will but still not finding him. Even Freeze Girl (who’s real name was Brittney, Layla had heard from somewhere) watched her with curiosity, standing alone in a corner and nursing a drink as she passed by.

Layla herself still wasn’t exactly sure why she’d come in. She didn’t know if she would even find Will, or, furthermore, what she’d say to him if she did. She felt awkward and exposed, completely out of place in an otherwise familiar house where she used to spend so much time. And judging by the way the heroes were staring at her with looks ranging from confusion to disdain, a part of her figured she probably didn’t belong here.

She tried to convince herself that she’d entered under the pretense of wanting to know if this party really was Will’s doing, if it was something he’d actually had a hand in organizing or if Gwen had once again stepped in and decided for him. Clearly, his parents weren’t home. Layla knew Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold well enough to ascertain that they would never have given the okay for their son to host something of this nature. It just seemed so out-of-character for Will to defy them like this, especially when all he seemed to want was their approval.

Then again, the way Will had been acting over the past month had also been entirely out-of-character. Perhaps the popularity had completely gone to his head, like Warren had suggested in the garden on Tuesday.

Maybe, Layla realized with a start, this was Will’s character now. Maybe he cared more about the approval of his peers in hero class than he did the approval of his parents, or the people he used to call his friends.

It then suddenly occurred to her that she'd crashed the party simply to see if he would care that she was there - if it was an accident that she hadn’t been invited, or if it had been intentional. However, seeing as Will’s social standing seemed to be more important to him than anything else these days, she knew the odds of the former being true weren’t exactly in her favor. There had to be a reason that she and Magenta never got a call or a text about it. And, seeing as they hadn’t heard anything, there was a good chance that Zach and Ethan hadn’t either.

Before Layla could meander into a different part of the house, two Pennies had stepped in front of her, preventing her from going further. They crossed their arms over their chests in contempt as they regarded her.

“Who invited the sidekick?” one of them asked, condescendingly looking her up and down.

“Yeah, what’s she doing here?” the other echoed in a tone just as scornful and accusing.

Layla opened her mouth to come to her own defense, but another female voice answered for her before she even had a chance.

“Leaving.”

She whipped around, watching as none other than Gwen Grayson stepped up to her in what was starting to feel like a coordinated attack. The disparaging look in her eyes was almost a challenge, daring Layla to say something in rebuttal.

“Where’s Will?” Layla asked meekly. Any traces of bravery she’d felt upon entering the house just minutes ago began to slip away under Gwen’s disconcerting stare.

She hated admitting it to herself, but without Will around to bear witness to their conversation, she was vulnerable. In his presence, Gwen had certainly been unkind to her, but never going so far as to be downright cruel - she was calculated like that, careful enough to not show Will too much of her true nature. Now that he wasn’t here, however… She could say exactly what she wanted to say with no repercussions.

But nothing could prepare Layla for what she was about to hear.

“Honestly? Avoiding you,” Gwen taunted, no mercy in her eyes. “Look, Will knows you have a crush on him.”

Layla’s heart, previously feeling like it would choke her as she walked through the Stronghold’s front door, now plummeted. Her hands started to get clammy, and all of a sudden there was an incessant ringing in her ears that made it hard to think about anything else besides what Gwen had just stated. She couldn’t figure out if the noise was real, or just all in her head.

“He does?” she whispered in equal parts mortification and disbelief. Then again, if Warren Peace had figured it out so easily after one conversation with her, it had been naive of her to think that Will himself could be so oblivious as to not pick up on it, too.

Still, the thought of it stung. This whole time, while she was pretending to be with Warren to make Will jealous, he had known about her feelings for him and he’d said nothing? It felt like the biggest slap in the face - he was letting her make a fool out of herself for no reason, and he didn’t even have the guts to admit it. Instead, his girlfriend had done so for him.

“Everyone does,” Gwen affirmed, a hint of a smirk playing across her lips. She was clearly enjoying this. “Will’s just too nice of a guy to tell you he’s not interested. Not that you could take a hint.”

Layla’s blood began to run cold. She could say nothing, do nothing but stare in agony as the older girl continued to humiliate her in the middle of the dining room, with the Pennies as well as other hero class students watching in the background.

“I mean, hello! He’s going to homecoming with me,” Gwen bragged with gusto, intent on adding insult to injury. “He threw a party, and didn’t invite you.”

So it was true, then… Will really didn’t want her, or any of his old friends, around anymore. He’d slowly pulled away, and now he was so far gone that there was realistically no hope of him coming back. The realization was like a knife to the heart - it reminded her of the way her father had left her mother, disappearing at first, and then days later he was simply gone for good. She felt the familiar swell of tears as Gwen finished her little monologue by stating in a biting tone, “You’re just embarrassing him. You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“Okay. I understand,” Layla conceded in an effort to get her to stop, trying with everything she had to keep her voice even and under control. All she wanted to do was break down and cry. But she couldn’t let Gwen get that kind of reaction from her - it was without a doubt what she wanted, and Layla refused to give her the satisfaction. Instead, she took a shaky breath in and continued, “And, um… When you see Will again, can you tell him that I never wanna talk to him again?”

Gwen smiled, relishing in her victory, and replied smugly, “I’ll give him the message.”

Turns out, it wouldn’t be long before he’d receive it. As Layla turned to go, Will himself stepped into her path as he gravitated to Gwen’s side, a bottle of orange soda in hand. There was an instant pang in her heart as they briefly locked eyes.

“Layla,” he said with a grin, his tone sounding enthusiastic. But, as she now knew, it was all a lie.

She could hardly believe his audacity in addressing her that way when he clearly hadn’t wanted her here, giving him a silent look of bewilderment before brushing past him and making her escape back to the front door. She refused to stand there any longer and let herself continue to be degraded.

“Layla. Layla, Layla!”

She heard Will calling after her with increasing intensity as she once again dodged the groups of students hanging out in the foyer, moving quickly in the hopes that he wouldn’t catch up with her. No matter how many times he said her name, or in what tone of voice, she had no intention of stopping for him.

She didn’t care about the plan anymore. She didn’t care about Will, or homecoming, or anything else. She was done. This was the last time that Gwen Grayson would rob her of her dignity, she decided - and the last time that Will would let her.

Finally making it to the door, she yanked it open just as Will closed in on her, all but shouting her name in frustration, “Layla!”

He grabbed for her arm to stop her from leaving. This sent her over the edge - why couldn’t he just let her go? How could he commit such a brazen act of betrayal and think she would never find out? How couldn’t he see that he had finally run out of chances, and that it was of his own doing? Layla ripped herself from his grasp as she spun on her heel to face him at last, looking at the guy who had once been her best friend.

Now, he was nothing more than a stranger to her.

Layla didn’t bother to mask the anguish on her face or the misery in her voice as she said, “Have fun with Gwen. You two deserve each other.”

Without another moment of hesitation she slammed the door on him, walking out into the night and never once looking back.

Chapter Text

Friday, October 14th, 2005 - 8:09pm

The seemingly endless stream of tears had blocked her line of vision, but Layla didn’t necessarily need to see where she was going to get to her destination. She knew the way by heart.

Initially, she didn’t know where to go - she couldn’t go home looking like this, her face a puffy red mess. Her mother would have too many questions that she couldn’t bring herself to give the answers to at the moment. She couldn’t go back to Magenta's house either, as she was sure Mr. or Mrs. Lewis would call her mom and then she’d have to explain her humiliation to not just one, but three adults.

But at The Paper Lantern, she knew she’d be able to find the only person who she could trust to console her without judgment.

It was a busy night at the restaurant, with a handful of parties waiting to be called for their tables just inside the front door. Layla barrelled past all of them, ignoring their complaints as well as the hostess’s confusion as she disregarded the “Please wait to be seated” sign and snaked her way through the dining room. Looking around briefly, she couldn’t find him - he had to be in the back-of-house. Putting aside whatever amount of dignity she had left, she made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping no employees would yell at her or otherwise cause a scene.

Then again, what would it matter? She was certain that she’d be the laughingstock of Sky High by the end of the homecoming dance tomorrow, if not sooner. What was a little more public embarrassment tonight?

Stepping into the kitchen of The Paper Lantern was like having an out-of-body experience. It was somewhere forbidden to her, somewhere she knew she shouldn’t be - not unlike the party at Will’s house. All commotion had come to a screeching halt as the employees realized that a customer had invaded their workspace. They only stared at Layla, stupefied, as she made her way unblinkingly past them and to the industrial-sized sink in the far corner.

Warren had his back to her as she approached, drying plates in an almost robotic fashion until he realized that the normal hustle and bustle of the kitchen had ceased. He turned around just as Layla reached him, looking at first startled, then completely dumbfounded.

“Hippie, what the hell are you…” he began, throwing his towel to the side. Upon registering her tear-stained face, however, his expression changed from one of confusion to one of concern. Without waiting for her to say anything, he spun her around and led her by the shoulders away from his gawking coworkers, abruptly calling out, “I’m taking my break!”

He guided her down a little hallway and into a quiet, empty room on the left. There was a simple circular table and chairs set up on one side, with a couch on the other and a coat rack near the door where Warren’s leather jacket temporarily resided. The only piece of artwork - a colorful print of koi fish in a pond full of lily pads - hung overlooking the table. Layla assumed it was the employee break room.

Yet another place she didn’t belong tonight.

She all but fell into the couch, desiring nothing more than to sink completely down into it and have it swallow her whole. Disappearing felt preferable to just about anything else at the moment. Warren closed the door gently behind them as she broke out into a fresh fit of uncontrollable tears, now that she was out of sight and earshot of the rest of the staff and patrons.

Layla knew that Warren had been the right person to come to, as he allowed her to cry with no interruptions or interjections on his behalf. Instead, he reached for a tissue box that was sitting on the table and offered it to her, watching her with a barely decipherable look that seemed closer to sympathy than pity. Layla accepted a tissue, attempting to dry the rivers that flowed from the corners of her eyes.

“I am… Done,” she finally said, her declaration punctuated with sobs, “With Will… Stronghold!”

On one hand, Warren couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Will had done to make Layla cry so relentlessly. On the other, he wanted nothing more than to walk out of the restaurant and set the guy’s house on fire for hurting her. But any anger he felt toward Will had to be put on the back burner so he could focus instead on the absolutely devastated girl in front of him - Layla, the girl he’d grown to care about more than he cared about himself. He sat down tentatively next to her, being careful to put a little bit of space between them, and waited for her to continue.

“He’s a liar, and… And…” Layla whimpered, unable to find the words to express how she now felt about the guy she’d had a crush on for so long. She squeezed her eyes shut, the shock of it all fully causing her to unravel.

How stupid was she to think that Will hadn’t known about her crush on him, or that he would be jealous of her supposedly being with Warren? It was obvious that Gwen was everything he could have ever wanted, while she wasn’t even an option. Compared to the older girl, there was nothing special about her - there was no way Will would have picked her instead. In the end, Layla’s naive belief that they were meant to be together based solely on the fact that they were childhood friends never stood a chance against the likes of Gwen Grayson… But maybe, it was all for the best.

Clearly, Will had changed beyond recognition. He was no longer who Layla thought he was - the goofy and caring guy she had grown up with didn’t exist anymore. Perhaps that was just the thing: she wasn’t in love with him. This person that Will had become was someone who went against all of Layla’s values, someone she would never consider being with. But rather, ever since they were younger, she had been in love with the idea of him; the idea of what he could have been. What they could have been. And now, she realized that the idealized version of Will had only lived in her head - not in real life. It was a shocking and frightening conclusion to come to.

The sooner she accepted it, however, the better.

Layla sat in silence as she struggled with her thoughts, her breaths coming in quick, short bursts. She wiped at the tears still ceaselessly falling with shaky hands, powerless to make them stop. Why wouldn’t they stop?

“Layla…”

The only thing that pulled her out of her downward spiral was Warren’s voice gently uttering her name - something that from anyone else, would have sounded completely normal. But from him, though, she realized it was a rarity. She’d grown so used to him referring to her as “hippie” that it seemed odd to her that he’d even use her first name at all. In fact, the only other time she could remember him actually calling her Layla instead of using his nickname for her had been earlier that week, when he’d lost his composure at the sight of her defaced petition. She’d been the one to bring him back down to earth that day. Today, it seemed to be his turn to do the same for her.

“...Hyperventilating isn’t gonna help. You gotta get your breathing under control,” he continued, remembering the countless times his mother had to help him regain his self-control as a child and giving her the same directions, “Slowly. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth…”

She nodded and followed his advice, beginning to slow down her breathing to a more normal rhythm. The shaking in her hands began to subside, though her crying did not.

“Just keep doing that. I’ll be right back,” he promised, pushing himself off of the couch and leaving the break room. Layla continued her deep breathing, and a few minutes later Warren returned with a glass of water and a plate of spring rolls.

“Feeling any better?” he asked, placing the plate on the table and handing her the water before taking his spot next to her once again. He made another conscious effort to not sit too close - getting flustered by their proximity wouldn’t do either of them any favors.

Layla nodded, but not before downing the entire glass like a cactus soaking up the first rainfall of the season, “A little bit.”

Warren took the now-empty glass from her, placing it out of the way on the ground while wondering just how to broach the subject at hand. He hated to sound like he was prying, but he couldn’t exactly help it; nor could he help Layla without knowing what got her to her breaking point.

“So… What exactly happened?”

She sighed, absentmindedly twisting the bracelets that encircled one of her wrists. Warren had come to recognize this, her playing with her jewelry, as her tell that there was something on her mind.

“Well I… I was walking home from Magenta’s,” she started, her voice still thick with woe. “To get home, I have to pass Will’s house. When I did, I saw… I saw that he’d thrown this huge party, without inviting me or any of our other friends, of course. And I know it was so dumb of me to do this, but I went inside. I just wanted to see if he… If he’d care that I was there, or-”

Layla’s cell phone suddenly began to ring, interrupting her mid-sentence. She sat up immediately, extracting the phone from the pocket of her jacket. Assuming it was her mother calling, she attempted to clear her throat so she could speak without sounding like she’d been crying. However, the caller ID showed the name of the last person she wanted to hear from: Will. She glanced up at Warren, who was staring at the name on the screen with what looked like disgust.

“Are you gonna answer?” he wondered aloud, pressing his lips into a frown. Hadn’t Stronghold done enough damage for one night?

Layla immediately shook her head, sniffling, and replied, “No. I don’t wanna talk to him.”

They sat there as the phone rang and rang, Layla letting the call eventually go to voicemail. Once the text on the screen informed her that it was waiting for her in her inbox, she played it out loud for both of them to listen.

“Um, it’s me,” Will’s voice came through the speaker, slightly muffled and digitally distorted, “I’m going to The Paper Lantern and if you get this message meet me there, okay?”

Layla’s face fell, as if she were physically able to look any more distressed than she already did.

“No,” she muttered, her eyes wide with panic as she shook her head. “He can’t come here, Warren. I don’t want to see him. I won’t.”

Warren hesitated, then settled on saying, “Considering his track record, I doubt he’s even gonna show up.”

Her phone rang once more, the caller ID again indicating the person on the other end was Will Stronghold. They sat, unmoving, waiting until he left another voicemail: “Alright, I’m leaving my house right now so I should be there in like, fifteen minutes or less if I walk fast. Which I will. Please come.”

“No. No, no, no…” Layla fretted. She sprung up off the couch and began to pace back and forth, anxiously wringing her hands. Warren followed suit, gently taking hold of her by the arm to stop her in the middle of her stride.

“Layla,” he said her name again, making her look up to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to see him. You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

Her eyes began to well up with fresh tears. Without warning, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the material of his black t-shirt. The movement caught Warren completely off-guard, taking him more than a split second to come to his senses and realize that Layla was hugging him, and that he should do something instead of just standing there completely still like a sorry excuse for a statue.

He timidly reached his own arms around her shoulders, softly patting her on the back in an attempt to comfort her. At the same time, he hoped she couldn't hear the nervous thump-thump-thump of his heart beating against his ribs as she rested her head against him.

“Please don’t let him know I’m here,” she murmured into his chest, dread painfully evident in her tone.

“I won’t. I promise,” Warren said solemnly, pulling away from her although a part of him really didn’t want to. “But, I do have to tell my boss you’re here…”

Layla looked at her feet as she let him go, face flushed, and cleared her throat, “...Right. I’m really sorry for barging in like this. I wasn’t thinking…”

“Don’t apologize. I’ll take care of it,” he said, trying to give her a small smile of the reassuring variety, but feeling as if he more than likely missed the mark. He motioned to the forgotten plate of spring rolls on the table, “In the meantime, you should eat something.”

“Thanks,” she replied, attempting an appreciative smile of her own that looked slightly out of place amongst the despondency etched onto her face. She watched him make his way to the door, but before he could leave her alone again, she blurted out, “Wait!”

Warren hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, pausing as Layla searched for what she wanted to say.

“Could you… Would you… Come back and stay with me for a little while?”

He regarded her with her brows knit together, restlessly shifting her weight from foot to foot. He’d never seen her quite this insecure before, despite everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Layla was usually so composed, so positive and self-assured. Warren hated that Will had this effect on her - even though she hadn’t told him the whole story of what had transpired at the party, he knew without a doubt she deserved better than to be treated the way she’d been being treated by Gwen and Stronghold.

“Of course I will.”

Warren had returned shortly with dinner for himself, along with the blessing from Mrs. Wong for Layla to stay for a little while longer in the break room. He spent the rest of his break eating in a comfortable, near-total silence with her - she’d finally calmed down enough to stop crying and pick at her spring rolls. He didn’t want to push for any more conversation if she didn’t feel like talking. The only interruption to their quiet meal had been her cell phone, ringing once again due to Stronghold, who seemed determined to completely fill up her voice message box by the end of the evening.

“By the way,” Will said in his latest attempt to get a hold of her, “I should mention I’ll wait for you ‘til like, ah, nine-ish? Maybe nine thirty, but probably not. I can’t stay out all night because my parents are super mad at me, too.”

Eventually, however, Warren had to return to work. As his boss had so boldly stated just yesterday, he wasn’t being paid to sit around with Layla (whether she was his girlfriend or not). He promised before leaving the break room that he’d come and get her after making sure the coast was clear - assuming Stronghold had finally stayed true to his word for once and showed up like he said he would.

After washing and drying a couple loads of dishes and stacking them in their respective homes, all he had left was about a dozen clean glasses to bring out to the drink station. It would be the perfect opportunity to take a look and see if Stronghold had come or not.

Upon leaving the kitchen, Warren saw Will from across the room. He was sitting at Layla’s usual table with his cell phone pressed to his ear, no doubt calling her for the umpteenth time. He could hear him leaving her yet another voice message as he crossed the restaurant and approached him slowly, still carrying the tray of glasses he’d meant to put away before getting distracted.

“Layla… Layla, just pick up… Okay, in case you didn’t get my earlier messages, I’m at The Paper Lantern and I-” Will had suddenly been cut off, a little robotic voice informing him that Layla’s voice message box was full. He sighed in frustration, snapping his phone shut and slamming it lightly down onto the table.

Warren eyed him suspiciously, not quite believing he actually had the guts to make an appearance after all. This incredulity helped with his decision to pretend he had no idea that something had happened between him and Layla. Hopefully then, Stronghold wouldn’t suspect that she’d actually been at the restaurant the entire time he’d been blowing up her phone - or that Warren had been anticipating his arrival. He’d like to think the guy wasn’t smart enough to consider it a possibility in the first place.

“What’re you doing here?” Warren asked convincingly, staring down at a very pathetic-looking Will Stronghold. There were a million other things he wanted to say to him, but those would give him away... Not to mention almost certainly get him fired, or (at the very least) reprimanded by his boss.

Will looked up, visibly disheartened, and said, “I’m, uh, looking for Layla. Do you know where she is?”

Sitting in the break room, miserable because of you, Warren thought. It took all of his willpower to not throw it in Stronghold’s face. Regardless of the fact that he actually did know where Layla was, Warren shook his head and lied instead, “How should I know?”

“I don’t know, you’re taking her to homecoming,” Will reminded him glumly with a shrug.

“Oh yeah, right,” Warren mumbled, somehow having forgotten about that little detail somewhere between Layla’s phone ringing nonstop and walking out to see Will actually sitting in the restaurant.

Had Stronghold bought their fake-dating scheme, after all? Maybe - except he just hadn’t been jealous enough to dump Gwen. Either that, or he really didn’t see Layla the same way she saw him. Warren secretly hoped it was the latter. But considering the current circumstances, the plan itself seemed so trivial now - that is, if it was still on in the first place.

Warren had a strange gut feeling that it may not be.

If it wasn’t, then that begged the question: was he taking Layla to homecoming anymore? She hadn’t explicitly told him one way or the other yet, and truthfully, he was too nervous to ask. But, she did say that she was apparently done with Will and called him a liar, and that had to count for something. Warren just didn’t know whether that meant she still wanted him to come without the goal of making Will jealous, if she would go alone, or if she simply wasn’t going at all.

That last option, regrettably, would throw a wrench in his own plan. He hadn’t anticipated that Stronghold’s actions had the possibility to undermine him quite like this.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me ruining your night,” Will promised, almost as if he were reading Warren’s mind. The admission made him curious.

“And why is that?” he inquired.

Will looked at him as if the answer was clear as day, “...Because I’m not going.”

The revelation took him by surprise, but as far as Warren was concerned, he liked this new development. He wouldn’t let Stronghold know that, though.

“Hm. Well that sucks,” he said sarcastically, taking a seat opposite Will in the booth like he had done with Layla so many times before. Figuring he probably had nothing to lose by imparting this information now that he knew Stronghold wouldn’t be at the dance, he continued, “Because we’re only going together to make you jealous.”

Will’s face contorted, perplexed, as he muttered, “...Huh?”

“Dude, you’re so stupid,” Warren asserted, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes at the guy’s obliviousness. “She’s totally into you.”

He hoped that Will hadn’t picked up on the hint of disappointment and envy that just barely slipped through in his tone of voice as he addressed what should have been evident from the very beginning. If the guy didn’t have his head shoved all the way up his ass, Warren thought, it would have been. Warren himself had even been able to figure it out back when he barely knew Layla.

“Not after tonight,” Will said, acknowledging what was now obvious. Considering that Layla had ignored every single one of his desperate phone calls, the odds were that she was now totally over him.

Selfishly, Warren hoped more than anything that was true. But she had been into Will, way before the inception of their fake relationship - it was the very reason she even approached him that first day in the cafeteria, he remembered with a pang of bitterness. The idea then crossed his mind that if she no longer had any kind of feelings for the guy whatsoever, she wouldn’t have been crying so relentlessly over him tonight.

Even still, a person could only take so much hurt and betrayal from someone they cared about before deciding it simply wasn’t worth enduring anymore.

Will, finally beginning to understand exactly what he’d put her through, lamented, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Layla or any of the other guys ever wanna talk to me again.”

Warren wasn’t quite sure if Stronghold meant to seek pity or not by telling him that, but judging by the wounded look in his eyes, it certainly seemed to be the case. It was a wild notion - Will Stronghold, the son of the very man who put his father in prison, looking for pity from him.

In Warren’s humble opinion, Will didn’t deserve pity.

And he absolutely would not be getting any here.

“I mean… You must have been a real jerk,” he said, allowing himself to revel just a little bit in Stronghold’s misery. “Because no matter what I do, I can’t get ‘em to stop talking to me.”

He’d never admit this part out loud, but in the process of growing closer to Layla, he had become somewhat fond of the other sidekicks who had taken to hanging around him instead of trying to get through to Will… Even if they did annoy him more often than not.

“Thanks,” Stronghold muttered. He averted his eyes in a way that told Warren he now had the self-awareness to know he deserved everything happening to him.

Warren gave him a pointed look before exiting the booth, taking the glasses over to their shelf to be put away and leaving Will to sit alone in his dejection - a small bit of karma for all of the times he left Layla high and dry. He’d have to remember to tell her later that Will wasn’t going to the dance now, so at the very least she’d know she wouldn’t have to see him there. While he arranged the glasses into neat rows, he allowed himself one last self-serving thought:

If there was a single good thing that had come from tonight’s events, it’s that Stronghold would no longer be a threat tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Saturday, October 15th, 2005 - 2:33pm

Outgoing text: 4got 2 tell u, plan is off.
Outgoing text: Thx 4 helping. U can do w/e u want now.

…

…

…

…

Warren Peace: Okay.

Saturday, October 15th, 2005 - 6:39pm

Warren stared into his open closet just like he had been doing for the past fifteen minutes. He’d rifled through nearly every piece of clothing he owned, and besides a random white button-down shirt and black tie that his mom had insisted he get his freshman year “just in case”, nothing felt good enough to wear for the occasion. He wished he had the foresight to acquire something a little more formal than his collection of dark wash jeans.

Ironic, seeing as renting a tuxedo was the one thing he’d told Layla he wouldn’t do.

He sighed, resigning to find a pair of black jeans that were both clean and in decent condition when he heard a little knock on his partially-opened bedroom door.

“How’s it coming along, dear?” his mother asked, peeking in slightly.

“About as well as I expected,” he grumbled in mild frustration.

While he purposefully held out for as long as possible, Warren eventually had to tell her that he was going to the homecoming dance. Seeing as he wasn’t at work on a Saturday evening, like he usually would be, he knew his mom would have raised questions regardless. He broke the news in as nonchalant a manner as possible, although without explicitly mentioning that he was supposed to be Layla’s date. It probably made no difference, seeing as she’d told him just hours earlier that the plan was off now. Maybe, he no longer was.

…But a stupid formality was the last thing that would stop him from showing up for her.

“Hmm…” Ms. Peace mused, drumming her fingers on the door frame. “I think I have just the thing. It may not fit perfectly, but it’s worth a try.”

Warren shot her a confused look as she retreated from the doorway, and she returned moments later with an opaque garment bag that was zippered up, hiding its contents. She handed it to him gingerly, as if it were an explosive that might detonate if mishandled.

“This was your dad’s. He got it when we planned to get married, but then he…” his mother trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes, suddenly looking like she might cry. She shook her head, returning to the present. “I figured you could at least see if it fits. But if you don’t want to wear it, I’d understand.”

She then left him alone to try on whatever mystery clothing was in the bag. Warren unzipped it hesitantly, not sure what to expect - but inside, he found the pieces of a simple black tux, in perfect condition. He figured it probably hadn’t been touched since his dad first tried it on.

To his surprise, after donning all the pieces with trepidation, it fit as if it had been tailored for him instead of for Barron Battle. He couldn’t stop staring at his reflection, feeling so unlike himself.

Another knock on the door broke him from his trance.

“You can come in,” he assured his mother, his eyes never once moving from his own image in the mirror.

Slowly, she cracked open the door, getting her first look at him.

“Oh, Warren,” she cooed, coming to stand behind him. “My baby is all grown up! Where does the time go?”

“Mom…” he groaned in embarrassment, making a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. She didn’t seem to be too bothered by his annoyance, however - she’d been the single mother of a teenage boy long enough to not take it personally.

She smoothed out the shoulders of the suit jacket, finding her son’s eyes in the mirror, and mused, “You remind me so much of your father.”

Warren couldn’t help but return a steely gaze, his expression hardening at her comment. He hoped her observation ended at their indisputable shared physical resemblance, especially now that he was wearing his dad’s old suit that seemed to fit him a little too perfectly. But, a part of him felt like that wasn’t all she was alluding to.

He grabbed for his favorite studded belt that had somehow found its way to the top of his desk, silently putting it on as a way to make the outfit his own and not just Barron Battle’s hand-me-downs. It was a small way to differentiate himself, to distance himself from the comparison.

Because Warren didn’t want to be anything like his father.

“Do you know what I loved about your dad?” Ms. Peace asked out-of-the-blue, seeming lost in thought.

A part of Warren didn’t care to find out - instead, he mostly wished she would change the subject. And while the hypothetical question came as a surprise, the fact that she spoke of the guy like he’d died instead of gotten locked away for four consecutive life sentences was not lost on him. Considering his father had no visitation privileges or any contact with the outside world otherwise, Warren figured he might as well have been dead.

Maybe, in a way, the part of Barron Battle that his mother had fallen in love with had died a slow death as he fell into violence and depravity… And she could do nothing but watch as it happened.

But the thing was, Warren had no idea what someone as good as his mom could have ever seen in a man like his father - just how, in quite an eerily similar way, he wondered what someone as good as Layla could ever see in him.

When Warren didn’t reply, his mother continued, “I loved his determination. His resilience. His independence. Deep down, he was sweet and caring and loyal. He didn’t dwell on what other people thought about him. He lived by his own code, which unfortunately ended up being his downfall, but… I wish he would have used all of those qualities differently, because they can be used for good. Which brings me to my point: they are all qualities I also see in you.”

Her eyes pierced his through the mirror as she finished her monologue. After a moment of silence Warren set his jaw, stating quietly what he so desperately wanted to believe, the opposite of the way nearly everyone treated him, “But I’m not him.”

She squeezed his shoulders lightly, “I know you’re not. And I think Layla knows that, too. You just need to put your pride aside and tell her how you feel about her.”

His head snapped around immediately, and he gave his mom an incredulous stare. How the hell did she know about his feelings for Layla?!

Warren certainly hadn’t told her anything.

She released her hold on his shoulders and made her way back toward the bedroom door, “You should really get going soon. There are only so many buses up to Sky High, and you don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“It’s not… She isn’t… I…” Warren stammered, at a loss for words. He supposed it made him look guilty as charged - there was no way for him to deny it now.

Giving him a little knowing smile, Ms. Peace answered the question that had gone unsaid, “Mother’s intuition. Of course I can tell when my own son is in love.”

Saturday, October 15th, 2005 - 6:57pm

The lights of the city of Maxville twinkled below as the Sky High school bus, piloted by Ron Wilson, soared higher and higher in the direction of the school. Layla looked at them wistfully out the window, suddenly longing for the comfort and security of her bed and not feeling at all like she wanted to dance the night away with her friends at homecoming. Instead, she found herself seated next to Magenta, wearing the dresses they had chosen together at the mall two weeks ago.

They’d only shared a few words since Layla had gotten on the bus at her stop - at her and Will’s stop - alone. She’d been anticipating the moment she would have to face him that evening, but according to Warren, she wouldn’t have to: Will wasn’t going to homecoming anymore. He imparted that information last night as she left The Paper Lantern. Considering the message Will left on her phone saying his parents were mad at him, she guessed that Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold had found out about his party and grounded him.

Looks like Will wouldn’t be attending the dance with the most amazing girl at Sky High, after all.

Layla took little comfort in knowing that karma had finally caught up to him. The damage was already done, her spirit crushed along with her hopes that Will would somehow come around. He had allowed her to act like an idiot blinded by her own jealousy, the whole time pretending to be none the wiser… Not to mention all of his little transgressions along the way that should have been an indication to Layla of Will’s true colors. Transgressions she willfully ignored because deep down, she actually thought she had a chance to change his mind at homecoming.

At least now, she had her answer.

A part of Layla figured that she should feel relieved instead of uneasy, like she could relax since she no longer had to spend her night trying to get Will to choose her instead of Gwen. In theory, she could put her energy toward trying to enjoy herself, like Magenta had suggested. But she wasn’t so sure she could enjoy herself anymore, or if she even wanted to… Not after everything that had happened.

Despite her newfound ambivalence, she still for some reason had taken too much time getting ready. She’d curled her hair into voluminous spirals, picked out a pair of sandals to perfectly match the gold accents on her dress, and carefully painted makeup on her face as if it were a mask to hide her lingering sadness.

A mask, a costume - something to make Layla look more put together on the outside than she felt on the inside. Unfortunately for her, Magenta was particularly good at seeing through her facades.

“Okay…” her friend said, eyeing her with suspicion. “You’ve barely said anything since you sat down. What’s up?”

Layla played with the gold bangle adorning her left wrist, preparing to deny that there was anything plaguing her mind until Magenta interjected.

“And don’t say nothing, because I know there’s something bothering you besides the usual. You’ve been too quiet.”

Layla sighed and gave Magenta a guilt-ridden glance, wondering why she had to bring this up right as they were making their final approach to Sky High. But that’s what made her such a great friend, she reasoned - she not only noticed, she cared that Layla didn’t seem to be acting like herself.

It was more than she could say for Will.

Averting eye contact by looking back out the window at the retreating skyline, Layla took a deep breath in and admitted miserably, “Will knew the entire time that I had a crush on him, but he never said anything. He just let me make a fool out of myself. So the plan is off. I’m done with him, for good.”

Magenta’s expression was caught somewhere between surprise and disgust.

“Glad you’re ditching the plan, but… What? How did you find out that first part? And when?” she asked in disbelief.

“Last night, when I was walking home from your house. I saw that Will threw a party, and I was dumb and decided to go inside,” Layla blinked back the wetness in her eyes, not wanting to ruin the makeup she’d so painstakingly applied. “I tried to find Will, but Gwen found me first. She was the one who told me.”

“He couldn’t even tell you himself? What a coward,” Magenta started in her typical biting tone. Sensing that her friend needed a softer approach today, she felt for Layla’s hand to give it a comforting squeeze. In a rare moment of pure empathy, she consoled in an even voice, “You’re not dumb though, so please don’t say that… How were you supposed to know? I’m sorry things turned out this way, really.”

Layla thought about all the time she had wasted on Will, all of their years of friendship that now meant nothing. She thought about the way she had somehow found a way to cry herself to sleep last night, despite having nearly exhausted her supply of tears at The Paper Lantern. She thought about how she had so selfishly dragged Warren into this, no doubt ruining his reputation in the process, and it made her feel even worse.

“Yeah,” she lamented, “I’m sorry, too.”

Clusters of white lights twinkled like stars in a faraway galaxy, reflecting off of disco balls hanging from the lofty ceilings of the Sky High gymnasium. They dotted the sea of dancing students underneath them, circling around hypnotically as the crowd moved to the music of the band hired for the event. They were playing almost exclusively cover songs from the eighties - an odd choice, but no one seemed to pay it any mind. Layla thought absentmindedly how they were probably some of the same songs her mom heard at school dances just over twenty years ago.

It had only been about thirty minutes since they’d arrived, but Layla had already lost track of her friends. Shortly after finding a spot on the bleachers to leave their personal belongings, an overwhelming wave of heartache washed over her as she took in the dozens of happy couples dancing around them.

She had quickly excused herself to the bathroom, waving off Magenta’s look of concern. After locking herself in the stall at the very end and having a long, silent cry, she took an extra five minutes to fix herself up in the mirror as best as she could. Luckily, she was alone - one of the only things that seemed to work out in her favor over the last few days. She couldn’t think of many other things worse than being caught crying in the bathroom at homecoming by hero-class girls, who’d probably already seen her get embarrassed by Gwen Grayson last night at Will’s party… That is, with the exception of being caught by Gwen herself.

She swiped away the smudges of mascara that had dried in the tear tracks on her cheekbones, being careful not to remove too much of the blush she’d applied there earlier that evening. So much for trying not to ruin her makeup on the bus. Her eyes still looked glassy, but otherwise, her appearance would be more or less acceptable.

What does it matter, though, she thought to herself, gazing at her own emotionless reflection staring back at her in the mirror. The plan is off. The old Will is gone. I’ve already made a fool out of myself, and the whole school probably knows how pathetic I am.

Layla reluctantly emerged from the bathroom, not quite knowing what to do with herself now. She wandered listlessly across the gym floor between groups of dancing students, the floaty pleated fabric of her bright green dress swishing against her legs with each step. She spotted Ethan’s orange suit jacket by the table laid out with a variety of snacks - maybe, something to eat would help her feel better.

Mr. Boy was working at the refreshments station, pouring punch from a large glass bowl into single-use plastic cups. The homecoming committee should have budgeted for something reusable (and less wasteful) instead, if you asked Layla.

He regarded her with a friendly smile as she stepped over to the table, “Hey there, Layla. You look like you could use a drink.”

Oh. Maybe she didn’t look as acceptable as she originally thought.

She mustered up a wary yet polite smile as he offered her a cup of the red punch, declining with a simple, “No, thanks.”

“Oh, don’t worry. The bubbles are just ginger ale,” he assured her, finally realizing that it sounded a little bit like he was offering alcohol to a high school student.

Before either had time to react, an elastic arm clad in a striped sleeve snaked its way across the table, tipping over the cup in Mr. Boy’s outstretched hand so that the liquid inside of it spilled all over his white dress shirt.

“Oops,” mocked Lash from somewhere to the left of the table, while Speed snickered at his friend’s antics.

Mr. Boy gave them a disapproving glance, then looked down at his stained shirt with a dejected frown. The hero class students never seemed to take him seriously and found plenty of ways to torment him, despite the fact that he was a teacher. It was becoming apparent that the hierarchy of heroes and sidekicks transcended petty high school cliques and bled into adulthood - a future that Layla was not looking forward to, considering her distaste for the system.

She felt awful for Mr. Boy. Clearly, the hero class guys believed that they didn’t have to extend respect to any sidekicks, regardless of who they were.

On a personal level, Layla knew exactly what that felt like.

She grabbed a few napkins from the table to hand to her teacher, remarking bitterly, “The guys at this school are jerks.”

A familiar voice suddenly chimed in from behind her - a voice she hadn’t been expecting to hear that evening.

“Thanks a lot.”

Layla turned around, astonished, to find Warren standing there with his hands in his pockets and a slight look of disappointment etched into his features. She wasn’t sure when he had approached her, or how much he’d seen and heard. But she hoped more than anything that he knew he was an exception to her brash statement - because ironically enough, the guy that everyone thought for sure would become Maxville’s next big supervillain was anything but a jerk.

Underneath the apathetic, standoffish, tough-guy exterior, Layla had come to find that Warren was truly genuine and caring. Over the past month, he’d become more than just Layla’s fake boyfriend - he became a real friend, as real to her as Magenta or Zach or Ethan, while Will turned his back on her. He went out of his way to hang out with her on his breaks at work, entertained her endless streams of conversation about topics near and dear to her heart, and even comforted her when she cried.

It then occurred to her that she’d told him earlier via text that he could do whatever he wanted tonight. He was under no obligation to come to the dance anymore. Yet here he was, standing in front of her, wearing a suit and tie despite the plan having officially been called off and Will not here to see them together, anyway.

Layla’s heart fluttered with a strange, yet familiar warm feeling. It was becoming obvious that he was here because he wanted to be. Not for himself, however - Layla knew without a doubt that dressing up and going to school dances wasn’t his thing in the slightest.

He was here, in a tux, for her.

Perhaps, there was a possibility that she meant something to him in a way that she now knew she never had to Will. As for Warren, he could only hope that she was finally starting to understand that fact.

Layla was indeed the singular reason he had come tonight. She was the only person for whom he’d go out of his way to put on his father’s old suit and, for the first time in his high school career, attend a school function. He couldn’t bear to think about her standing somewhere alone at homecoming, miserable yet trying to put on a brave face for her friends.

Besides… He had his own plan to follow through with now.

He’d gotten there a little late after just barely catching the last bus up to Sky High from his neighborhood, trying unsuccessfully for the last fifteen minutes to find her in the crowd of their peers. Finally, he spotted her unmistakable head of red hair over by the punch bowl. He’d walked up, heart pounding with anxiety, only to arrive just as she declared all the guys at Sky High to be jerks.

Ouch.

However, that wouldn’t deter him. He knew it was a subtle jab meant not for him, but for the likes of certain heroes who let their powers and popularity go to their heads… In other words, it had been a dig at Will.

And just as he knew the day he realized his feelings for Layla: he was not, and never would be, Will Stronghold.

For once, that was a good thing.

As she turned to face him, he was at last able to get his first proper look at her. She was absolutely gorgeous - even more so than usual - and it made him all the more nervous. Her eyes immediately lit up at the sight of him, and a surprised smile tugged at her lips as she said playfully, “I thought you weren’t gonna rent a tux!”

“It’s my dad’s,” Warren said, giving her what he hoped was a flirtatious smile. He leaned in toward her to make himself heard over the music, continuing, “He doesn’t have much use for it in solitary.”

He’d offered the explanation with an attempt at some kind of humor to hide how awkward he felt, considering that none of this kind of thing came naturally to him. However, his joke fell flat, rendering Layla uncharacteristically speechless. She turned around abruptly, grabbing something off of the table behind her.

“Cheese cube?” she offered him, her brown eyes wide.

So much for making things less awkward.

Warren stared down at the tiny piece of cheese on a toothpick, feeling like an idiot. This wasn’t exactly going the way he’d planned it in his head.

“Uh, sure,” he replied, taking it from her and popping the cheese cube in his mouth as she turned around and grabbed another one for herself. They ate in silence, the other students milling around them balking at the sight of Warren Peace at a school dance. He did his best to ignore them, instead trying to figure out what he should say to Layla now that he was here with her.

In all honesty, he hadn’t thought much about that part of his plan yet.

“So, um…” he started hesitantly.

“It’s really nice of you to…” she said at the same time. She shook her head apologetically when she realized she cut him off, making her curls bounce around the delicate features of her face. “Sorry! You first.”

Warren cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked, “Would you wanna… I don’t know, dance? Or whatever.”

Layla gave him a look of disbelief. Not only had he actually shown up at the dance, Warren was now asking her to dance - two things she could have never anticipated at the beginning of the school year, knowing his reputation.

With one brow arched upward, she inquired curiously, “You want to dance? With me?”

He gave her a single nod in the affirmative, “Well, I am your homecoming date, right? Would be kind of rude if I didn’t ask you to dance at least once.”

She stared at him for what felt like ages, her own heartbeat accelerating as she considered his offer and what it might mean for their friendship if she said yes. After all, the plan was off and Will wasn’t here to witness it, meaning that it wouldn’t serve as an act to make him jealous.

This was for real.

But truthfully, as she stood in front of the guy who’d agreed to be her fake boyfriend all those weeks ago, Will Stronghold was now the last thing on Layla’s mind.

“In that case… I think I’d like that.”

He offered her his hand and she grinned as she took it, a coy giggle escaping her lips as he led her out onto the dance floor. The song that the band had been playing gave way to a new one; some ballad that sounded familiar, but that neither could put a name to. Other students began to partner off into couples, settling into each other like it came naturally.

Layla faced Warren and stepped closer to him like she had last night, when she’d acted entirely on impulse and hugged him. Lost in the sea of her turbulent emotions, it had been easy to haphazardly throw her arms around him without thinking. Tonight, she second-guessed herself as she hesitantly placed her hands on his shoulders, mimicking the other girls around her. He settled his own hands just as carefully on her waist. Even through the fabric of her dress, his touch felt warm and reassuring.

For Warren, on the other hand, their closeness made every thought in his head blur together until it was an indecipherable stream of consciousness that boiled down to just one thing: her. It was terrifying yet exhilarating, nerve-wracking yet comfortable all at the same time. He knew that even if he started to doubt himself, he couldn’t back out now. Luckily, no part of him wanted to. In fact, he wanted to pull her in even closer, except he had no idea how to go about it without it feeling awkward or forced. But he’d have to figure that out, and quickly… Because dancing with her like this, he realized, was it. He had to tell her how he felt about her by the end of this song.

The thought of it made his pulse race with a kind of anticipation he’d never experienced before.

One thing at a time, though. He wanted to actually enjoy the moment before he potentially ruined their friendship forever with his declaration.

As they swayed to the tempo of the music, Layla met his eyes again, finding him staring down at her with a gaze so soft it looked almost unusual on him. It prompted her to break their silence, inquiring in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the song, “...Is this weird?”

Warren raised a brow, regarding her with a hint of uncertainty, “Hmm?”

“Us. Slow dancing together,” Layla elaborated. “You know, since the plan is off and Will isn’t here to see it.”

It didn’t feel weird to her. In fact, it felt almost right, in a way. Those feelings of curiosity about her and Warren’s compatibility as something more than just friends had returned in full force, amplified by the way he’d just been looking at her. She couldn’t help herself but to wonder… However, an air of doubt still lingered in her mind. Was it even possible for him to see her that way? Or was she just reading too much into things, starved for some kind of affection after being cast to the side by the guy she’d formerly had a crush on for so long?

Warren shrugged, “Not any more weird than pretending to date each other for the past month, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Layla exhaled lightly, not having quite been sure of the answer she was looking for. Regardless, she nodded in agreement at his response, “Yeah… Good point.”

“And, for what it’s worth…” he continued, focusing on something in the distance while a smirk played across his lips, “You should see Gwen’s face right now realizing that she’s the one who ended up alone and miserable tonight instead of you.”

“No way,” Layla remarked skeptically, shaking her head in disbelief.

Warren slowly and smoothly turned them both around, never once breaking from the rhythm of the music, so she could get a quick glimpse of the older girl. Gwen was brooding by herself in a corner of the gym between the band and a platform with a podium in the center, which was typically used by Principal Powers during school assemblies. She stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, glaring out across the room at the couples on the dance floor. Briefly, the two girls locked eyes… And if looks could kill, Layla wasn’t so sure she’d make it out alive.

Although Gwen had won in the grand scheme of things (and despite not usually enjoying finding happiness in other peoples’ suffering), seeing her frustrated and unable to flaunt her relationship with Will tonight after everything she’d said at the party was a good enough consolation prize for Layla. Besides, she thought, now that she was here with Warren, all of last night’s events seemed almost trivial.

For once, things felt okay - better than okay, actually.

Because even though Will didn’t care about her anymore, Warren did.

He was like her very own Mr. Darcy - he’d set aside his ego to do something nice for her, to show her just how much he cared about her, while Will had ended up deceiving her just like Mr. Wickham had deceived Elizabeth.

Layla turned her attention back to him as they continued to sway along to the song, which had to be halfway over by now.

“Thanks. For showing up tonight. You didn’t have to, but you did. And in a tux no less,” she gushed, giving a little laugh and smiling up at him with sincerity in her eyes. “It looks nice on you, by the way.”

Warren, surprised by her compliment, tried to bite back a smile of his own. He couldn’t come on too strong this soon; he had to play it cool.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, hippie,” he replied, losing the battle as he felt the corners of his mouth tug upward. Screw playing it cool, he thought. That wouldn’t get him anywhere. Taking a chance, he added in a voice loud enough for only her to hear, “You look… Beautiful.”

He watched as the pink blush in her cheeks bloomed like a rose, deepening to a shade that was visible even in the dim lights of the gym. It had nothing to do with her makeup and everything to do with the fact that he’d finally gotten up the courage to tell her how he really saw her.

“Thank you, Warren,” Layla was beaming now, looking every bit as radiant as she had before Stronghold broke her spirit. “You know, this is probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. And I really appreciate it.”

She closed what little distance there was between them, circling her arms around the back of his neck and resting her head on his left shoulder with a content sigh. Warren responded by moving his hands to cradle the small of her back. His warm fingertips barely brushed against the exposed skin there, making her shiver ever so slightly. He held her close to him as if she might fly away if he didn’t, and he couldn’t risk that - he wanted this moment to last forever.

Sadly, he knew it wouldn’t.

The ballad was winding down now, his window of opportunity closing with each passing second. The final rounds of the chorus echoed in the background, but it sounded so far away. All Warren could really hear was his heart pounding violently in his ears, a near-deafening sound.

Layla shifted in his arms to peer up at him once more, almost timidly this time, and all of a sudden there was only one thought in his mind that overcame the rest:

Kiss her.

There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than her lips on his. Every cell in his body seemed to scream for it. But he was frozen, staring down at her with a look of longing that he didn’t bother to disguise anymore.

He couldn’t kiss her here; not right now. He refused to put her on the spot like that… He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in a room filled with all of their classmates to see, too. What if she didn’t want it as badly as he did? However, the way her eyes flickered down from his, to his lips, and back again told him otherwise. He took in the curve of her lashes, the exact shade of brown of her eyes, the way her own glossy lips parted just slightly as if she were waiting for him to make a move.

The last notes of the song sounded out. They had stopped swaying along, still standing there in each other’s arms as the couples around them parted ways.

It was now or never.

“Layla,” Warren rasped, feeling like he might choke on his own words. “I… I have to tell you something.”

Her gaze was unwavering, silently urging him to go on. He took a shaky breath in, readying himself to confess to her how he felt at last.

“Layla, I-”

Just as he’d been about to tell her exactly how he’d fallen for her, Warren was interrupted by a set of blinding spotlights being turned on, focusing in on a spot near the entrance to the gym.

“Welcome, Commander and Jetstream!” Principal Powers’ microphone-amplified voice boomed. Every person in the room turned to find the guests of honor, erupting into thunderous applause. The duo waved, smiling proudly as they walked through the crowd that parted for them like they were royalty.

“Um, why are Will’s parents here?” an unexpected voice asked. Warren and Layla turned in unison to see that Magenta had found them, and she’d brought Zach and Ethan with her. They untangled themselves from each other in a matter of seconds - Layla clasped her arms together in front of her, her face once again turning a deep shade of pink, and Warren grit his teeth in annoyance.

The Strongholds just kept finding ways - knowingly or unknowingly - to sabotage him.

“Good evening,” Principal Powers said as the crowd quieted down, “First, a quick announcement: the owner of the blue cold-fusion-powered jetpack, you left your lights on.”

“Sorry!” Professor Medulla suddenly called out, pushing through the crowd to find the exit. “Sorry, excuse me, sorry…”

Principal Powers continued on, unphased, “And now, please help me welcome the head of the homecoming committee, the girl who made all this possible… Gwen Grayson!”

Teachers and students alike, save for Warren, all cheered for Gwen as her and Principal Powers traded spots on the podium. Even Layla clapped politely, although her face had once again become an unemotional mask. It was almost torturous for Warren, not knowing what she was thinking. He’d have to find a way to take her somewhere more private when this stupid production was over, or perhaps even before it ended, so he could finish what he started… Uninterrupted this time.

Gwen, looking more polished and composed now than she had just a few minutes ago, placed a silver trophy on the corner of the podium as she addressed the crowd, “Thank you, Principal Powers. And a very special thank you to our guests of honor, the recipients of the first ever Hero of the Year Award: The Commander and Jetstream!”

Applause rang out yet again for the Strongholds, who seemed to be enjoying their moment in the spotlight.

“And to mark this occasion, we’ve planned a special tribute to the most powerful super being ever to walk the halls of Sky High…” Gwen proclaimed, stepping out from behind the podium.

In milliseconds, her expression changed from fake-happy to truly menacing. She unfastened the skirt of her pink dress, flipping it around to reveal an electricity-charged costume fit for a supervillain. The crowd gave a collective gasp.

“...Me!”

Chapter Text

Saturday, October 15th, 2005 - 8:01pm

The crackling sounds of electricity filled the otherwise silent room as bright currents shot forth from Gwen’s outstretched hands. A gold mask resembling something like a crown fit itself over her head, completing the outfit that had transformed from a homecoming dress into what was practically a suit of armor. Behind her, giant signs revealed in dramatic fashion the name of her supervillain alter-ego:

Royal Pain.

Her sidekick - or henchman, rather - jumped onto the stage and retrieved a futuristic-looking weapon hidden inside of the podium that she had been speaking at just moments before.

It was almost too quiet in the gym as students and faculty alike gawked in confusion. No one really seemed to know what was going on. But as Layla and Warren found each other’s worried eyes, they both instantly knew one thing was certain…

This was not good.

The Commander ended up being the one to break the hush that had fallen over the crowd as he said, stupefied, “Royal Pain… Is a girl?”

Before Warren even had time to think of his own sarcastic jab at The Commander’s astute observation skills, Royal Pain beat him to it.

“Yes I’m a girl, you idiot!” she yelled with malice, her voice now sounding deep and digitally distorted as she tightened her grip on the weapon in her hands. “How I ever lost to a fool like you I’ll never know. Now, prepare to be pacified!”

“Wait. Is that… The Pacifier?” Layla whispered, suddenly remembering how Mr. Boy had told them about it weeks ago in class, back when they’d started their unit on escape strategies.

He’d only mentioned it in passing, since the focus of the lesson was on how he and The Commander needed to escape from shackles and chains suspended from the ceiling of an abandoned warehouse… But still, he’d been there the day Royal Pain first unveiled it. If Layla’s memory served her correctly, Mr. Boy said that nobody knew exactly what the device did - Royal Pain never actually got a chance to demonstrate its power.

But that, Layla realized with a start, might just change today.

“No way, man. Can’t be,” Zach muttered, although he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Yeah, I thought Mr. Boy said it was destroyed,” Ethan corroborated. “And that when it exploded, Royal Pain… Died.”

“Hate to break it to you, but The Commander probably kept it and Gwen found a way to steal it. He always keeps souvenirs from his conquests,” Warren said with just a hint of spite, wondering what Barron Battle memorabilia the so-called hero had lying around in his house. The thought of it made him respect the guy even less.

“Well then the original Royal Pain has to be Gwen’s mom,” Magenta contributed in a low voice. “What other explanation is there? She probably wants revenge for what Will’s parents did to her.”

Nervously (and with just a hint of guilt), the group of sidekicks glanced at Warren. He knew what was more than likely going through their heads, but he couldn’t even be angry about it. It was what everyone in the super community would have been thinking, too: a stunt like this from him, the volatile, anti-social pyromaniac, was something that would have made sense. But from smart, popular, little-miss-perfect-technopath Gwen Grayson? No one ever saw it coming.

However, it was becoming apparent that he wasn’t the only student at Sky High who held a grudge against the Strongholds.

The Commander and Jetstream took up matching stances, staring at this new iteration of Royal Pain in a way that made it clear they didn’t take her seriously. To them, she was just a teenager in a fancy costume, simply mimicking the real Royal Pain who they’d taken down twenty years ago.

“Do you honestly think you can kill me with that little toy gun of yours?” The Commander asked derisively, almost seeming to mock the idea of it. To him, there was no way the Pacifier in her hands could be the real thing.

“My dear Commander,” Royal Pain taunted, “Who said anything about killing you?”

She raised her weapon too quickly for him to react. A startling beam of light shot out of the end, hitting him square in the chest. The flash it created was almost blinding - everyone in the crowd ducked and shielded their eyes as The Commander’s scream drowned out their panicked gasps. When they were able to look again, they realized with a start that the famed hero was nowhere to be found. The only thing left of him was his costume, laying crumpled up on the floor where he’d been standing.

However, from the pile of clothes came a strange sound…

A baby’s cry.

Jetstream bent over The Commander’s costume and pulled it aside to reveal what was, in fact, a baby. The crowd could hardly believe what they were seeing - Royal Pain had turned Will’s dad into a baby.

“So that’s what the Pacifier does…” Layla breathed, stricken with dismay and wondering just how far Gwen planned to go. Surely, all of the heroes in the room wouldn’t allow her to continue for long. They’d put an end to her evil scheme…

Right?

Jetstream turned to Royal Pain now, launching herself into the air and zooming toward the stage only to be taken down mid-air by another blast from the Pacifier. Mr. Boy somehow caught her, now a baby swaddled in her own costume, before she could hit the ground. He too was quickly zapped, followed immediately by Professor Medulla, who’d returned from the jetpack parking lot none the wiser to what had happened since he left.

Screams of terror erupted as students took off in a mad dash for the doors, realizing that no one was safe. Royal Pain began firing aimlessly into the crowd, intent on hitting whoever she could, while Lash, Speed, and the Pennies appeared to close off the exits with metal gates. Of course they were all working alongside Royal Pain - it only made sense. As bullies, they’d already shown their potential for villainy, something that the school had somehow let go unchecked. They smiled and laughed at the innocent students clawing desperately for their freedom, knowing the fate that awaited them.

It finally dawned on Layla, Warren, and everyone else that they were trapped. They had to find another way out.

Now.

“Boomer, get the kids out of here!” shrieked Principal Powers as a white beam of light hit her in the back, literally infantilizing her on the spot.

Coach Boomer had spotted Warren and immediately made his way over to him, dodging fleeing students as he called out, “Hothead! Find an exit, get as many people out as you can. I’ll slow her dow-”

Another shot from the Pacifier silenced him as Warren turned to Layla, ushering her away from the scene as her friends followed.

Screw the rest of the school, he thought. The student body of Sky High had always treated him terribly, so why should he help any of them? All he cared about was getting Layla (and by extension, her sidekick friends) somewhere safe. She looked back at him briefly as they ran, a look of fear etched across her face.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He couldn’t.

Catching up to her, Warren spotted an air vent on the wall out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know where it led, but it seemed to be the only viable option they had. At the very least, it would get them out of the gym. He led Layla and her friends over to it, pausing just long enough to hold out a protective hand in front of her as he hurled a fireball at the vent with the other. The covering burst open, and without hesitation, Magenta crawled inside. Warren motioned Layla in next, followed by Zach and Ethan, only ducking in himself once he made sure that no one with nefarious plans would follow.

“Where the heck are we?” Magenta asked as they shuffled along, trying not to hit their heads on the metal above them. The inside of the air duct was dark, not to mention barely tall enough for them to crawl through. It would be infinitely easier if they could see where they were going.

“Hey Warren, how about a torch?” suggested Ethan.

“Only if you wanna get barbecued,” Warren deadpanned, knowing that if he lit a fire in here, they’d be toast - literally. Metal served as an excellent conductor of heat.

Seemingly out of nowhere, and to everyone’s surprise, Zach began to emit a radioactive yellow glow. With a self-assured chuckle, he moved to overtake Layla and Magenta, saying, “Ladies, if I may.”

Magenta gave a rare, proud smile and said in a sing-song voice, “Then all the reindeer loved him.”

“Way to glow, Zach!” Ethan exclaimed, and Layla grinned in astonishment. This was the first time any of them had seen him use his power firsthand.

“Thanks, man,” Zach replied, now lighting their way through the air duct.

They continued on in a straight line for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably no more than a few minutes, until Zach said that he could see another vent cover in front of him. Warren figured they’d have to kick their way out, and he was up to the task. However, the sound of metal being ripped from the wall and Zach’s enthusiastic greeting of “Sup, kid?” indicated to him that he wouldn’t need to.

Will Stronghold had decided to make an appearance, after all.

They emerged from the air duct and into a hallway one by one - Zach, Magenta, Layla, Ethan, and finally Warren - to find a frantic-looking Will on the other side.

“Guys, you’re never gonna believe this!” he exclaimed, looking at each of them as if he were about to reveal some truly earth-shattering information. Layla stepped past him and immediately went to work establishing a perimeter, making sure no one was lurking just out of sight around the corner. “Gwen-”

“Is Royal Pain’s daughter,” she finished his sentence, walking up to him and regarding him with an unimpressed gaze.

Will continued, a little disheartened by her expression and confused as to how she already knew, “Yeah, and she-”

“Stole the Pacifier,” Warren cut him off, coming to stand at Layla’s side with Ethan not too far behind. He crossed his arms tightly and looked Stronghold up and down with suspicion, a part of him wondering for a split second if he was in on it, too. In Warren’s opinion, despite their conversation last night, he still wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy of people.

Will attempted to go on once again, now sensing their hostility, “Right…”

“Yeah, and she turned everybody into babies, including your parents, dude,” Zach informed him as he and Magenta rounded out their group.

It was quiet for a moment as Will processed this new development, clearly perturbed, “Okay… That, I didn’t know.”

Layla gave him an almost apathetic stare, stating in a biting tone, “I think this is even more than the great Will Stronghold can handle.”

Warren raised a brow, surprised yet impressed that she’d actually said that to him. In his opinion, Stronghold deserved a much more severe tongue-lashing than that… However, he was happy that Layla had grown a backbone and no longer seemed to be folding to Will’s pathetic, pleading eyes.

At last, it seemed like she truly was done with him.

“She’s right,” Will admitted. “It’s gonna take all of us.”

“All of who?” questioned Magenta, reminding Will of the obvious. “You and Warren? The rest of us are only sidekicks.”

Will hesitated, giving a big sigh.

“Just because you have powers, that doesn’t make you a hero,” he said, looking between the people he used to call his friends as he finally owned up to how he’d been acting over the last month. “Sometimes it just makes you a jerk… Makes me a jerk. I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

“We get it,” Layla interjected, sounding a bit softer this time, “You’ve been a jerk.”

Although she was still mad at him, she was glad that Will was finally taking some accountability for his actions. Forgiveness was in her nature, but she couldn’t just simply forget about the past month. That would be doing herself a disservice - it would take some time for her to be able to fully trust him again. Will would have to make it up to her slowly, she decided, and put in the work to build their friendship back to what it used to be. It may not be exactly the same anymore, but that was okay. Layla was just happy to know he was no longer gone from her life forever; that there was a way they could still be friends, even after everything that had happened.

However, much to her alarm, the way Will was now looking at her seemed to transcend friendly.

Warren clocked it, too. He studied Stronghold warily, knowing that he himself had looked at Layla that very same way… And unfortunately for him, he was powerless to stop what came next.

“Layla,” Will started, his gaze zeroing in on her, “In case my homecoming date ends up killing me tonight… I just want you to know…”

She could only stare in quiet bewilderment, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, as he grabbed her arm abruptly and pulled her toward him. It all happened so fast that it was impossible for her brain to keep up. The next thing Layla knew, Will was pressing his lips to hers in the impetuous yet subdued way of someone who wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure what they were doing, but intent on following through with it anyway. She was frozen as he held her captive against him, unable to think about anything other than the guy standing right behind her.

The image of Warren looking down warmly at her as they danced together materialized in her mind, and she was astonished at how badly she wished it were him kissing her instead of Will.

Meanwhile, Warren knew he had no right to feel the way he did as he watched, eyes narrowed, as Will practically yanked Layla over to him without warning. The awkward kiss he gave her was without a doubt more for his benefit than it was for her own, something that made his blood boil. A part of him felt like he only had himself to blame - after all, he had let it slip to Stronghold at the restaurant last night that Layla had been into him. In retrospect, he realized that was the dumbest thing he could have possibly said. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, other than to arrogantly throw in Will’s face how much of an idiot he was for not seeing what had been right in front of him.

But it was too late to do anything to fix his mistake… Now, it was Warren who felt like the idiot.

He understood that falling for Layla had never been a part of their agreement, not in the slightest. And he could have sworn that he saw her hesitate, that her lack of reciprocation meant she was less-than-enthusiastic rather than simply caught off-guard (which in truth could have just been him trying to find some indication, any at all, that she didn’t want this). But all of that didn’t stop the feeling of resentment for Will from creeping up from the pit of his stomach - though he forbade his expression from giving him away, as always. Considering the greater circumstances at play, now was not the time to let his jealousy get the best of him.

Still, he couldn’t help but regret not kissing her himself when he had the chance.

The moment was over almost as quickly as it had started, however, interrupted by a mocking female voice saying, “Isn’t that sweet? I hate sweet.”

Layla took this as an opportunity to break away from Will, her head spinning as she tried to process what just happened…

Will had kissed her.

Without warning, without any regard for how she may be feeling, Will had kissed her. He’d done so with all of their friends ogling them, an audience that she would have preferred not to have. Worse still, he’d done it in front of Warren, the guy who she would have kissed a mere twenty-or-so minutes ago before homecoming descended into chaos.

The irony was not lost on Layla that had this happened a few weeks ago, she would have been happy about it. Ecstatic, even. Now, all she felt was a dense knot of mortification and guilt twisting around in her stomach, filling her with unease. Mortification that Will had chosen the most inopportune time and place to make a move on her, and guilt not only because she was certain that she didn’t want him in the way she thought she had for so long, but also because the guy she did feel that way about now had watched it happen… And Layla could only guess what he must be thinking. All she wanted was to work things out, to find a way to make this situation right. It was a task that was easier said than done, and unfortunately, it would have to wait.

They had more pressing issues to deal with.

Penny, Lash, and Speed had found their group, and were now standing over them with a menacing sort of anticipation that made it clear they would enjoy every second of what they intended to do.

Speed snickered while he sized them up, and Lash gave a smirk as Will stepped forward and uttered, “You guys are a part of this, too. Why am I not surprised?”

Layla glanced over at Warren as he removed his suit jacket, tossing it to the side. He rolled up the sleeves of his button-down in preparation for a fight, exposing the flames that adorned his forearms. His expression was determined, but there was something else lingering just below the surface that Layla couldn’t quite put a name to…

Disappointment? Heartache? Anger? A combination of the three?

When they survived this - if they survived this - talking to him would be the first thing she’d do.

“Go take care of Gwen,” he ordered Will, knowing that he had the best chance of stopping her, but also glad for an excuse to get rid of him. “We’ll handle these clowns.”

His resolute tone reminded Layla exactly what they were up against. Logically speaking, she too understood that Will was their only real hope to put an end to all of this. However, she wasn’t exactly sure how anyone else here besides Warren was equipped to handle the other three villains that had squared up in front of them. She certainly didn’t feel prepared, especially considering the predicament Will had just placed her in… But she would try.

It was all she could do.

Will turned to her, pulling her gaze away from Warren long enough to meet his eyes. Looking at him hurt in a different way, now. A part of her did still love him, just not the way she used to think she did. They’d grown up together, spent the better parts of their childhoods with each other. He was like a brother to her, her best friend - but nothing more.

“Go,” Layla reiterated in a quiet voice, wondering if it would be the last time she’d ever see him. Even after all that had happened, she still couldn’t stomach the thought of it.

He turned and ran ungracefully through the wall to find Royal Pain, leaving the rest of them to deal with Penny, Lash, and Speed.

Zach hurriedly ushered Magenta back into the air duct, presumably to look for a way out of the school or for anyone else who wasn’t trapped in the gym and could help them. It was calm and quiet for a moment as Layla, Warren, and Ethan stared at the rogue hero-class students, waiting with bated breath to see who would make the first move.

Warren couldn’t hold himself back any longer - all of the enmity and resentment he felt after watching Will lock lips with Layla made him feel like he wanted to explode. He channeled the rage filling the depths of his chest through his arms and out from the palms of his hands, igniting them in an instant. The familiar heat that enveloped his fingers from the fire that could not burn him was almost comforting. But before he could fling a fireball in his enemies’ direction, Speed hurtled past him like a bullet train, leaving him reeling the same way he had during their match of Save the Citizen. Remembering the way he almost suffocated him that day, Warren vowed he wouldn’t get the best of him this time. He took off after him, making a mental note to come back for Layla and Ethan once he was finished roasting the guy like a pathetic marshmallow.

The two sidekicks watched Warren go, hanging a left at the end of the hallway and disappearing from view. Layla’s pulse quickened as she turned back around to find Penny multiplying right in front of her eyes - half a dozen of her clones began to descend upon her, cartwheeling together as they swarmed like angry bees.

When it came to fight or flight, Layla found that she was more apt to choose the latter - though not in the sense of actual flight, like Will’s mom. She grabbed the skirt of her dress and ran as fast as she could away from the approaching Pennies, just as Lash stretched an arm out and snatched Ethan by the collar of his shirt.

Her heart sank as she realized too late that the villains’ strategy was to get them separated. They would be easier to pick off one by one - individually speaking, Penny, Lash, and Speed could find a way to overpower each of them.

They’d walked right into a trap.

She didn’t want to use her powers to fight anyone - she was a pacifist, after all - but a part of Layla knew it just might be her only option. The problem was, at the moment, she couldn’t use them. The school was a prison made of concrete and metal, sealing off access to any type of flora on the outside world and rendering her chlorokinetic abilities essentially useless. Unless, of course, she could get herself somewhere in closer proximity to nature…

…Somewhere like the school garden, located conveniently below the windows of the cafeteria.

Layla abruptly swerved to the hallway junction on the right, leading her and the Pennies toward the lunch room and farther away from where she’d left Ethan. Farther away from Warren. Her hasty footsteps matched the steady rhythm of her pounding heart as she hoped that somehow, they’d all find a way to make it out of this nightmare unscathed.

Right now, however, she needed to first figure out what to do about the cheerleading squad that had her sorely outnumbered.

After what felt like a lengthy chase, Warren had finally caught up to Speed in a corridor at the end of the hero wing. The older boy darted back and forth, pausing for a millisecond each time to make sarcastic, mocking comments that only served to make Warren angrier.

It was impossible for Warren to get a clear shot at him - every time he tried, he missed by just a few inches. He growled in frustration as he whipped his head around, trying to zero in on his adversary, but it was no use. A moving target wasn’t usually much of an issue, but Speed was simply too fast. It was as if the only way to hit him would be to accurately predict his next move, something that Warren wasn’t able to do.

The flames licking at his hands intensified - he was just itching to make someone burn.

Speed once again took off past him in a blur, doubling back to the hallway they’d come from and leaving Warren no choice but to follow suit. By the time he rounded the corner back to their starting point, he saw Speed charging full-force at an unsuspecting Ethan, who immediately melted into a bright orange puddle on the floor in order to avoid being run into. Speed couldn’t stop in time - he slipped on the liquefied Ethan, sending him spiraling out of control.

This was Warren’s opportunity. He quickly aimed and sent a large fireball flying at Speed, making contact right as he went crashing through the stone mural at the end of the hall. He writhed in pain, stuck in the wall and unable to extricate himself or put out the fire that was now burning on his backside.

Ethan popped up and resumed his human-form again as Warren walked over to him. He re-adjusted his glasses and brushed off his suit, glancing at Speed dangling helplessly from the wall.

“Way to go, popsicle,” Warren said, offering him a high-five.

“Thanks! You should’ve seen what I did to Lash,” Ethan boasted, pointing his thumb toward the men’s bathroom. Warren raised an inquisitive brow, but before he could ask, Ethan said proudly, “Let’s just say, I gave him a little taste of his own medicine: the ultimate swirly.”

So two of the three goons were taken down, leaving only one left… One that, Warren realized, could multiply and easily outnumber Layla.

Layla, who would never want to use her own powers to hurt anyone. Layla, who he would do whatever it took to protect, even though he wasn’t so sure he stood a chance with her now that Stronghold had forced himself back into the picture. But that didn’t matter - he’d still do anything for her.

He still loved her.

“What about Layla?” Warren asked, turning around to survey the hallway. “Where is she?”

Ethan grimaced, “I don’t know. She went the opposite way you did with the Pennies right behind her. She could be anywhere.”

Warren let out a worried sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He should have never left her alone. Turning on his heel to head in the direction Ethan had indicated, he motioned for the sidekick to follow and uttered, “Come on. We need to find her.”

The two made a right and hurried down the hall, peeking into every classroom they passed, but there was no sign of Layla or the Pennies. Warren was starting to feel desperate - what if Penny and her clones had forced her back to the gym to be pacified by Royal Pain? He would never be able to live with himself if something happened to her.

Suddenly, the cataclysmic sound of windows shattering from somewhere down the hall pierced the air and sent a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through Warren’s veins. He met Ethan’s nervous eyes, both of them muttering the same word together as they realized where the noise had come from.

“...Cafeteria.”

Wasting no more time, they took off in a sprint, hoping that they wouldn’t be too late.

Bursting through the double doors of the cafeteria, Layla looked around for some place to take cover, finding only the tables that would leave her just as exposed and vulnerable as she was now. The Pennies followed in formation, climbing the tables and flipping around upside-down as they converged on her. She tripped on her long skirt, picking herself back up in time to find the group of identical cheerleaders standing over her with their arms crossed and smug looks on their faces.

“Come on, sidekick,” they jeered, their voices sounding uncanny as they spoke in perfect unison. “Aren’t you gonna fight back?”

“I don’t believe in using my powers for violence,” Layla explained meekly as the Pennies prowled toward her, making her stumble back in order to keep any kind of distance between them.

“I don’t believe you even have any powers,” the Pennies taunted, pressing forward.

Layla turned to run away again as chants of “Go Penny, beat Layla!” echoed throughout the cafeteria. The Pennies chased her relentlessly, marching after her as she made her way between two long rows of tables and leading them toward the giant windows at the back of the room.

What Layla had originally thought was a good idea was starting to feel like anything but - she found herself totally confined, completely surrounded by Pennies now with nowhere else to go. She turned to the cheerleaders once more as they began to tumble up and over her, making her duck so as not to be whacked by their flying limbs. She swerved out of the way of a back handspring one moment, only to feel the jarring pain of a fist connecting with the side of her face the next. Her head snapped to the right, and she heard Penny make a satisfied little hmph.

Layla slowly lifted her gaze, jaw throbbing and feeling a sort of anger she had never experienced before in her life.

From the moment she’d stepped into Sky High and been placed in hero support, the students in hero class had done whatever they could to make her as well as the other sidekicks feel small. Inferior. Worthless. She was done being walked all over, she decided - it was about time she showed that while she was kind, she wasn’t weak.

It was about time to prove that sidekicks weren’t useless.

“Big mistake,” Layla spat, her voice filled with venom. She hardly recognized it as her own. The Pennies began to retreat, alarmed and confused by her sudden change in demeanor.

Layla shut out every other sensation and focused in on the energy she could feel radiating from the plant life just outside of the cafeteria windows, humming through her like an electric current. It was as if they wanted to help her, responding immediately as she reached her hands out wide on either side, lifting them slowly. The vines that crawled up the side of the building grew away from the walls, lengthening and twisting at her will like serpents waiting to strike. She flung her hands forward and the plants burst through the windows, shattering glass in all directions as she compelled them soundlessly toward the Pennies. The vines quickly wove their way around each clone, binding their legs and arms together and encircling their waists until all of them were suspended from the ceiling in a mess of dark green leaves.

The Pennies struggled in vain against the thick vines as one of them cried out in disbelief, “But I thought you were a sidekick!”

Layla smirked, nodding as she stated proudly, “I am a sidekick.”

She turned to leave, eager to find her friends and help put a stop to Royal Pain. But Penny’s pleading voice made her pause.

“Don’t leave us here to die!”

Layla sighed as she looked back up at the captive girls, ready to inform them that the Hedera helix needlepoint English ivy they were currently ensnared in was not poisonous and wouldn’t kill them. However, what they said next nearly made her heart stop.

“Royal Pain sabotaged the anti-gravity device!” one of them confessed, still struggling against the vines holding her limbs together.

“The whole school’s gonna fall out of the sky!” another one added. “We only have ten minutes!”

Layla’s eyes widened in panic as the implication of their words started to set in. Royal Pain didn’t just want revenge on Will’s parents, or to turn every teacher and student at Sky High into babies - she wanted to eradicate the school completely.

She had to find the others, fast.

Their lives depended on it.

Chapter Text

Saturday, October 15th, 2005 - 8:50pm

Warren all but broke down the doors to the cafeteria as he made his way in with Ethan following seconds behind, bracing himself for what he might find inside. A small part of him held out hope that Layla would be okay, but a bigger part of him feared the worst. Before he could take more than a couple of steps into the room, however, someone wearing a familiar green dress came barrelling straight into his chest.

“Oof,” she breathed, getting the wind knocked out of her as she crashed into him. Warren immediately caught her as she stumbled, grabbing her arms to help keep her steady. She looked up at him, relief flickering across her features as she realized who she had run into.

“Warren!” she blurted out, gripping his shirt sleeves so tight that the fabric strained against his shoulders. She pulled away to look at him, seeing Ethan appear over his shoulder. “Ethan! Thank Gaia you came!”

Warren felt like he could finally breathe now - Layla was right here, safe, standing in his arms. She was alive and unharmed, except for…

“What happened to you, hippie? Are you okay?” he asked, gazing down at her with a thinly-veiled look of concern. He pushed her hair out of the way and brushed his fingers gently along the line of her jaw where a small, brownish bruise was forming.

“Penny punched me, but I’m fine. I promise,” she explained in earnest as if it were no big deal, taking ahold of his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Nevertheless, Warren’s face darkened as he felt a flare of anger ignite somewhere deep inside of him. He would never hit a girl; his mother had taught him better than that. But Penny had to pay somehow.

“Layla…” he started, his voice a low growl.

She shook her head and took a step back from him, her tone becoming urgent as she glanced from him to Ethan, “I dealt with her already. Don’t worry about me, please. There isn’t enough time!”

“What do you mean there isn’t… Whoa,” Ethan marveled, finally noticing the scene in the cafeteria.

Warren took his attention off of Layla long enough to see what Ethan was so distracted by, his eyes widening in shock as he fully registered what he was looking at. The cafeteria had practically been transformed into a jungle - thick green vines had broken through the windows at the back of the room, leaving sharp shards of glass strewn all across the floor. They reflected the light of the moon outside, glittering iridescently like a kaleidoscope.

So that’s what had caused such a catastrophic sound.

The plants themselves were everywhere, too: wrapped around support columns, climbing the walls, and cascading down from the ceiling. To Warren’s further astonishment, ensnared in the vines high above the ground were the Pennies. Some were fighting with no success against their rope-like traps, and the rest had realized that doing so was a futile endeavor. He figured there was more to Layla’s powers than she’d previously demonstrated, but seeing the true extent of her abilities like this made him almost speechless.

“Layla, this is so sick!” Ethan exclaimed, looking up at her handiwork with a wonder-struck expression. “I didn’t know you could do this!”

“Yeah, hippie,” Warren managed to say, feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest as he nodded in agreement with Ethan. Her display was probably one of the most impressive uses of powers that he’d seen at Sky High - then again, he was a little biased. “This is amazing.”

“It was nothing,” she said modestly, a slight blush warming her cheeks as she fought back a small smile. It quickly turned into a frown, however, as she remembered what she needed to tell them. “We need to go find the others, though. Now. Penny said that Royal Pain sabotaged Sky High’s anti-gravity device. If we don’t figure out how to fix it, the school is literally going to fall out of the sky in the next ten minutes.”

Ethan froze, looking petrified, and Warren’s heart sank as they realized there was a good chance that they may not make it out of this alive.

But, they would be damned if they didn’t try.

“So… Do we know where that is?” Ethan asked quietly, looking between Warren and Layla. Layla shook her head, at a loss of where to go from here. Warren sighed in frustration and abruptly turned to the Pennies, taking a few steps closer to make sure he would be heard.

“Where’s the anti-gravity device?” he demanded authoritatively. “And what exactly did Royal Pain do to it? If you care at all about making it out of here alive tonight, you’ll tell us.”

The Pennies looked at each other reluctantly. They didn’t really want to help the enemy… But they knew that if they didn’t, they would be goners, too.

“...It’s in the anti-gravity room at the center of the school,” one Penny finally explained, sounding defeated, “Royal Pain attached some kind of computer thing with red wires to it so she can override the system. But she sealed all the doors shut; it’ll be impossible to get in.”

“We’ll figure out a way,” Layla said with determination, stepping up beside Warren. “How do we get there?”

“We don’t know. We weren’t there when she did it,” another Penny admitted, “All we do know is that she used the blueprints of the school from Principal Powers’ office.”

Layla and Warren turned at first to each other, then to Ethan. At least they now had something to work with.

“Come on, let’s go. We can’t afford to waste any more time,” Layla said, picking up the skirt of her dress with one hand in preparation to make a run for it and motioning for the two boys to follow her with the other.

“Hey, wait!” one of the Pennies called out to their retreating figures, struggling desperately at the vines once again. “Don’t leave us!”

“Let us go!” another one begged. “Please!”

The three ignored their cries for mercy as they left the cafeteria, making their way down the hall in the direction of the principal’s office. Layla felt just a little bit guilty - the Pennies had helped them, after all - but she knew that keeping them captive was for the best. They couldn’t be trusted, at least not fully.

They watched their backs as they ran, hoping that no one else would appear and try to get in the way of their mission. But upon approaching Principal Powers’ office, they noticed something out of the ordinary.

“Hey, the lights are on in there,” Ethan observed as they ran up to the door. The lights were in fact turned on, unlike in any of the other rooms surrounding it. They couldn’t see inside, though, with the door’s frosted privacy glass obscuring their view. If someone working with Royal Pain was already there and waiting for them, they would have no way to tell for sure.

“Someone must have known we’d be coming,” Layla said with a hint of apprehension.

Warren stepped in front of them, grabbing for the door’s handle without hesitation, “Well, they’ll have to go through me first.”

He twisted the handle down, but was instantly met with resistance. He swore, trying again and again.

“It’s locked,” he finally said through gritted teeth, giving the door a shove with his shoulder and a frustrated pound with his fist. It still didn’t budge. “What now? Should I try burning it down or something?”

Layla glanced at the biometric scanner next to it, no doubt requiring the fingerprints of a faculty member to activate. Her eyes then traveled down to the floor, gazing at the little gap in the bottom which was letting a thin ribbon of light out into the hallway.

“No, there might be an easier way,” she said. She turned to Ethan, looking hopeful, “Ethan, do you think if you melted you’d be able to fit under the door?”

“Yes! No. Er, maybe,” he vacillated as he studied the tiny crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. Going in first without knowing who, if anyone, was waiting for him made him want to melt out of sheer anxiety, anyway. “I… I can try. I guess.”

Before he was able to melt into his puddle form, a tall, shadowy figure had descended upon the other side of the door, looming over them menacingly.

“Uh, guys…” Layla whimpered, the first one to notice the threat. The two boys looked in unison to see what she sounded so worried about.

The handle shook as whoever was on the opposite side fumbled with it. Warren immediately ignited the palms of his hands, ready to take on the attacker himself.

“Stay behind me,” he demanded, causing Layla and Ethan to take a few steps back.

The lock clicked from the inside, and the door finally swung open. Warren raised a hand, ready to hurl a fireball, but a familiar yet frantic voice was the only thing that stopped him mid-throw.

“Dude, wait!” a surprised-looking Zach yelped. He stood in the threshold, clad in his bright yellow button-down shirt and neon green bowtie, holding both of his hands up in surrender. “It’s just me!”

Warren lowered his hand, extinguishing his flames and allowing Zach to relax. He let out a huff of air, no doubt relieved that he wouldn’t be getting accidentally roasted alive today.

“Man, am I glad to see you guys again,” he said, ushering them into the office. “Where’s Will? Did you stop Royal Pain?”

Warren, Layla, and Ethan stepped with haste into the brightly lit space, walking past the secretary’s desk and into the room belonging to Principal Powers. On one side was a trophy case lined with the principal’s personal awards and accolades. On the other was a row of bookcases, filled to the brim with all sorts of literature, as well as a couple of filing cabinets in the corner. In the middle was a large, modern desk with a futuristic-looking computer. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Magenta, who was furiously typing away at the keyboard.

“No idea. And no…” Ethan answered, taking in his surroundings. “Not yet.”

“But Penny, Lash, and Speed won’t be a problem anymore,” Warren added for good measure, standing with his arms crossed near the door in case any unwelcome visitors tried to make their way in behind them.

Layla immediately walked over to the bookcases to see if there was anything that looked like blueprints on the shelves, asking, “How did you two manage to get in here if the door was locked?”

“Air vents. Got lucky,” Magenta stated simply without glancing away from the computer.

“Yeah. We’ve been in here trying to get a hold of like, anyone outside of the school for help, but we can’t,” Zach explained, leaning up against the desk next to Magenta. “First we tried to use the emergency phone to call the government or whatever, and then the regular phone to call my mom, but the phone lines were cut. Then I remembered that I still had my cell phone in my pocket, so I tried to call my mom again, but Royal Pain must have blocked the reception or something because I got nada. Zip. Zilch.”

“And I’ve been trying to get into Principal Powers’ computer, but I’ve gotten nowhere,” Magenta complained, sighing in annoyance. “I thought it would be easy to guess her password. Turns out, it’s not.”

Layla, not finding anything on the shelves, made her way behind the desk to rifle through the drawers.

“Well I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but Royal Pain messed with the school’s anti-gravity device. Unless we can find and disable her system, Sky High will no longer be in the sky in…” she glanced up at the clock on the wall that read eight fifty-four and winced, “Six minutes.”

Magenta and Zach both seemed to go pale, giving each other wide-eyed looks.

“What can we do?” Magenta asked, scooting herself back in the principal’s chair and getting to her feet. Zach pushed off of the desk, ready for further instructions.

“We need the blueprints for the school, so we can find the anti-gravity room, and then figure out a way to get in. Royal Pain sealed off all the doors,” Layla said, pulling folders out of the bottom drawer and flipping through their contents, “Warren, Ethan, go look in the secretary’s office. Maj, check these other drawers, and Zach, go through the filing cabinets.”

Warren and Ethan disappeared into the other room, while Magenta tore open a drawer on the other side of the desk and Zach hurried over to the filing cabinets. He yanked on the top compartment, only to find that it too was locked just like the door to the office had been.

“Ladies, we have a slight problem here,” Zach said as he gave one more tug, turning to the girls with a grimace. They looked up from the documents they were pouring over, realizing the situation. “Find any keys in those drawers…?”

Magenta sprung out from behind the desk, making her way over to him and pushing him lightly out of the way.

“Move over. I got this,” she said, pulling a bobby pin out of her hair and jamming it into the lock. Luckily, despite being surrounded by all sorts of the latest technology, Principal Powers still used old-school filing cabinets. She jiggled it slightly and within a matter of seconds, was able to open the top drawer in a single swoop.

“Bad. Ass,” Zach muttered in awe, causing Magenta to roll her eyes while trying to hide the little smile pulling the corners of her mouth upward. The two rummaged around inside, shuffling through files until Magenta extracted a long, rolled up document from the very bottom.

“Hey, is this it?” she asked, handing it over to Layla, who unrolled the white paper delicately to find detailed, top-down renders of the school building printed in blue ink.

“Yes!” Layla exclaimed, “You found them!”

The three immediately went to tell Warren and Ethan, then moved out into the hallway where they’d have more room to come up with a plan. Layla checked the time once again as she exited the office, seeing with a little jolt of terror that they now only had four minutes left to save the school.

They had no choice but to figure out something as quickly as possible.

Layla took a deep breath to staunch her nerves and laid the blueprints down on the floor, spreading them out between her, Magenta, Zach, and Ethan. Warren stood just behind them, leaning up against the wall and watching with an almost blank expression.

The odds were against them, he thought. There was no way they’d be able to pull anything off in time to prevent Sky High from plummeting to the ground - and it was a concept that he was having a hard time coming to terms with. How Layla had any kind of hope that they could actually stop Royal Pain’s plan was beyond him.

As he gazed at her, he couldn’t help but wish he had done things differently tonight. He wished that he hadn’t hesitated, that he would have just manned up and told her how he felt when he had his opportunity to. The idea that they could die in four minutes and Stronghold had gotten to kiss her instead of him, however, was enough to make him want to fight to the very end.

But the clock was ticking. There was no time for second chances.

Layla knelt over the document, scanning it until she found the room she was looking for.

“Here’s the anti-gravity room,” she said, pointing to a spot deep in the center of the school that was normally off-limits to students. There were multiple access points that connected it to various different hallways, with only one being nearby.

“But didn’t Royal Pain seal off every route?” Magenta asked, reminding Layla of that fact.

Ethan tapped on a long, thin, pipe-like ventilation structure that ran all the way from the anti-gravity room to an outlet on the wall across from where they were sitting.

“Hey, what about this conduit?” he suggested.

“Yeah, right,” Zach replied incredulously, “You’d have to be like a rat to fit in there.”

It was quiet for a split second as Zach, Ethan, and Layla simultaneously realized what their plan would be. They all looked slowly to Magenta, who peered back at them in confusion until it dawned on her.

She sighed, looking less than thrilled, “Oh, great.”

In a matter of seconds, they had located the outlet of the conduit and removed its covering. Ethan and Zach stationed themselves on the floor in front of it with the school’s blueprints to give directions, and Magenta reluctantly transformed into a little black guinea pig with bright purple streaks of fur to match her human hair. She’d be small enough to crawl through the narrow maze of pipes, and once she reached the generator, she’d find Royal Pain’s device and chew through the red wires to disable it.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she squeaked as Zach picked her up and placed her carefully into the opening.

“It’s our only chance to save the school, Maj,” Layla reminded her friend as she tip-tapped into the pipe on her four tiny guinea pig feet.

“Yeah, I know,” Magenta resigned, her high-pitched voice sounding muffled but unmistakably annoyed as it echoed from inside the conduit. “This is so stupid.”

“Don’t worry, Layla. We got this,” Ethan tried to reassure her, giving a half-hearted smile as if he wasn’t entirely sure they did.

“Yeah, you and Warren go find Will and Royal Pain. Try to buy us some more time if you can,” Zach said before turning to the opening of the conduit and calling out to their friend, “Okay, you’re doing great, Magenta! Looks great!”

Layla nodded and spun around to face Warren, who had been watching them stoically in the background. Oh, how she wished she could pull him aside and clear the air about what happened with Will - but there just wasn’t time for that. They only had a few minutes left to save the school.

They only had a few minutes left to save themselves.

“There’s only one place I think they might be,” he said as she approached him, pushing off of the locker he was leaning against and uncrossing his arms from over his chest. “That is, as long as Royal Pain doesn’t have the entrances blocked off still.”

“The gym?” Layla guessed, a sense of dread creeping into her skin.

Warren’s silence told her that she was indeed correct.

Taking one last look back at her friends, Layla followed Warren in the direction of the place where this nightmare had gotten its start.

It was difficult not to continue ruminating over what would happen if they failed to stop Royal Pain. The thought lingered, swirling around like a storm cloud in the back of Layla’s mind as she and Warren ran to the gym in silence… This might be it.

They might die tonight.

No - she had to think positive, like she usually did. They could and would stop Royal Pain. There was simply no other option. But each step closer to the crackling sounds of electricity and crashing noises indicative of a fight ensuing intensified the sharp pangs of fear that Layla did everything she could to hide. She couldn’t let Warren see just how terrified she was really feeling.

She needed to be brave - for him. For herself. For the entirety of Sky High.

They yanked open one of the sets of double doors on the side entrance of the gym, both surprised and relieved when they easily gave way. The room was shockingly empty, all of the students and faculty no longer there. Finding out where they were being held wasn’t high on the list of priorities at the moment, though, considering Will was currently in an all-out battle with Royal Pain. Running toward the struggle, Layla and Warren heard a loud thud as the supervillain fell from one of the disco balls on the ceiling. She landed flat on her back, laying there as if she were injured.

“Will!” Layla called out to him, letting him know that they had come to help.

It seemed as if he didn’t need it, however, immediately taking advantage of Royal Pain’s vulnerable state. He had quickly bent over her and raised his fist, zeroing in, ready to strike. But as soon as Layla yelled out his name, he paused in confusion, looking up to find her running in with Warren by her side.

Before any of them could anticipate it, Royal Pain’s suit of armor surged with a bright burst of electricity as she dealt a supercharged blow directly to Will’s chest. The punch was so powerful that it sent Will sailing into the air, limbs flailing, and directly through the windows above the stage. It happened so fast that there was no chance to stop it.

“No!” Layla cried, realizing exactly what Royal Pain had done. Her blood ran cold as she listened to Will’s desperate, helpless scream echoing from the darkness outside. All she could do now was gaze in horror at the fractured panes of glass where he had crashed through them.

Will was plunging to his death, and she was entirely to blame.

Layla suddenly felt like her limbs were made of rubber, as if her body might give out underneath her at any moment and cause her to collapse. It was her fault - it was all her fault. She’d distracted him, made him lose his focus just long enough for Royal Pain to gain the upper hand, and now he was paying for her mistake with his life. If she wouldn’t have yelled out to him, he’d still be okay. He’d still be alive.

How could she have been so stupid, so careless? How could she ever begin to forgive herself?

Warren, too, stared in silent disbelief at the shattered windows, realizing with a jolt that he had just watched Will Stronghold die. As much as he didn’t care for the guy, he would never have wished for him to go down like that… Especially considering he was their best weapon against Royal Pain.

It was a fact that the villain was all too eager to remind them of.

She rose slowly from where she’d been laying on the floor, standing up fully while taunting, “And there goes your last chance of stopping me.”

The burst of anger Layla had felt in the cafeteria was nothing compared to the feeling of blinding rage that now ignited in the pit of her stomach at Royal Pain’s mocking statement. It felt completely foreign to her and almost uncontrollable - never before in her life had she wanted to hurt another person as much as she wanted to hurt Royal Pain, to make her pay for what she had done to her best friend.

“We’ll see about that,” she snapped defiantly, her legs propelling her toward the villain as if her body was operating on autopilot.

The malice in Layla’s voice shocked Warren - he almost couldn’t believe that she was able to get so angry. It made him proud, in a way, that she wanted to stand up and fight back instead of continuing to be a doormat for Gwen to walk all over. But as much as he was happy she had it in her to challenge Royal Pain, he couldn’t bring himself to let her do that.

He couldn’t lose her.

Warren thrust a protective arm out in front of her as she started forward, racing to put himself between her and Royal Pain. He wouldn’t let her fight and potentially get herself killed, too - he’d rather sacrifice himself instead if it meant she’d live. Because at the end of the day, he reckoned, her life mattered more than his. She had a bright future and a whole slew of people that loved her (himself included), and as long as he was still standing, letting her risk her own safety wouldn't be an option.

It was a pill he’d learned to swallow a while ago, but aside from his mom (and maybe Mrs. Wong) all Warren had was her. And what kind of future did he really have? Becoming even more ostracized from the super community as soon as he graduated from Sky High, doomed to a life of working in food service and living paycheck to paycheck? If it came down to it, dying in place of her would give him some sense of purpose.

However, unless both Warren and Layla were imagining things, it seemed like he wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself after all.

They had stopped dead in their tracks as a figure that looked suspiciously like Will Stronghold rose into view behind Royal Pain, floating up to the broken windows in complete opposition to the laws of gravity. They gasped in shock, making the villain whip her head around to see just what had garnered that kind of reaction from them.

“Surprised?” Will asked in jest, hovering steadily just outside of the gym. “So am I.”

“You’re flying?!” Royal Pain growled in disbelief, verbalizing what had just become glaringly obvious: Will had inherited not just his father’s super strength, but his mother’s flying abilities, too. And her incredulity was more than warranted - no known child of super parents had ever gained two powers.

Nevertheless, Will zoomed through the gaping hole in the windows, flying directly at the stunned villain. Warren gently took Layla by the arm and pulled her back out of harm’s way, making sure to stay in front of her just in case. Hopefully, Magenta and the others had disabled whatever device Royal Pain had planted in the anti-gravity room by now… That way, when Will finished her off, there would be no more surprises.

“That’s impossible!” she protested as he grabbed her and lifted her straight up toward the ceiling, only to fling her violently back down to the ground. The floorboards underneath her splintered from the impact, and she let out a grunt of pain as her damaged electric armor short-circuited.

Will bent over her just like he had before, determination in his eyes as he broke her gold armored helmet off with a strike from his bare fist. The metal plating crumbled from the force of the hit, revealing Gwen’s pale, feminine face - a stark contrast to the mask that she’d been wearing. She looked almost innocent as her head lolled lifelessly to the side, hair fanning out around her in a dark, shiny halo. Although they had all known that Royal Pain was Gwen’s supervillain alter-ego, it was still a shock to remember that she was the person behind the mask. She had been head of the Homecoming Committee, Student Body President, the most popular girl in school…

But it had all been nothing more than a facade.

Will reluctantly readied to defend himself if need be, but she laid perfectly still - almost too still. The electricity running through the rest of her armor slowly faded out, which meant only one thing: Royal Pain was defeated.

They’d won.

Will got to his feet, walking away from her slowly. Layla immediately ran over to meet her friend, throwing her arms around him in a relieved hug. Considering the fact that the guy had come dangerously close to dying, Warren tried his best to stifle that all-too-familiar feeling of disappointment as he watched Layla hold onto Will with the same fervor she had to him when he’d found her in the cafeteria.

Once they sorted the rest of this mess out, he’d have to find a way to tell her about his feelings before Stronghold had an opportunity to get her alone first… But for now, all Warren could do was swallow his pride as he too went over to Will and gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. After all, he had saved their lives. There was no denying that.

Layla was beyond happy that Will was okay, of course - he was her best friend - but as the hug stretched on longer and longer, she sensed that he was once again getting the wrong idea. She began to pull away before she could give him another inadvertent opportunity to kiss her in front of Warren, saying, “We should really go find the others and make sure-”

A low rumbling sound interrupted her mid-sentence as the building began to shake. Within seconds, it started to plummet, moving slowly at first and gradually picking up speed. The trio immediately dropped to the floor as cold wind blew in from the broken windows, sending tablecloths flying and knocking over chairs and tables. The school’s internal gravity system still seemed to be working and keeping them glued to the ground - but it felt like they were on a roller coaster, having crested over the top of the first giant hill just to be sent hurtling straight down to earth.

It could only mean one thing: that the external anti-gravitational propulsion system had been compromised, just as Royal Pain had plotted. They were losing altitude at an alarming rate. Layla’s heart began to sink, too… They hadn’t won, after all.

Time was up. They were too late.

“The school is falling!” she yelled, trying to make herself heard over the sounds of rushing air.

They hadn’t been able to properly explain the rest of Royal Pain’s plan to Will, but he seemed to immediately understand. He sprang up without a word and ran toward the window, flinging himself into the air and flying out into the darkness of the night sky. He could try to stop the school, or to slow it down at the very least, but it was really no use - Sky High’s size and momentum would be no match even for his super strength. He would be pulverized in a matter of minutes… Or less, more than likely.

They all would be.

Layla blinked back tears as the sad fact of the matter hit her like a brick to the face. There was so much in life she still wanted to do… Expand her native pollinator movement and save the bees. Graduate from Sky High. Advocate for the preservation of the planet’s untouched forests. Discover a new species of plant, or two, or twelve. Lead the fight against climate change. See the world. Fall in love. Not infatuation dressed up as love, steeped in jealousy and insecurity - real love.

She glanced over at Warren, desperately wishing that she could turn back time. Dancing with him tonight had made her the happiest she’d been in a while. And there was a part of her that believed there was a chance they’d been on the brink of something special… Something real.

It just wasn’t fair.

For Warren, on the other hand, this kind of end felt almost fitting. He of all people knew that life wasn’t fair - it had never been fair for him. Why should he expect anything different now? His only regret was his failure to shove his fears aside and tell the scared girl next to him that he loved her.

As if she knew just what he was thinking, Layla reached a shaky hand out to grab for one of his own. Warren hesitantly met her eyes, seeing them start to pool with tears and thinking about how he’d watched her cry far too many times throughout the past couple of days for his liking. It pained him to see her so helpless, so terrified… But it pained him even more to know that there was absolutely nothing he could do to save her now.

Time seemed to stand still as Layla inched herself nearer to him, until they were close enough for her shoulder to brush against his. He freed his hand from her white-knuckle grasp only so he could put his arms around her, pulling her in to cradle her against his chest. She leaned into him, trembling, hanging onto him as if he were the only thing still anchoring her to the ground. His warmth was comforting, filling her with a sense of peace despite knowing the fate that now awaited them.

At the very least, Warren thought grievously as he held her… If he had to go out like this, he would be going with Layla in his arms.

They gazed at each other once more, their eyes hiding all of the things that had gone unsaid between them tonight before squeezing them shut and waiting for the inevitable.

Falling…

Falling…

Falling…

And then - nothing.

Warren had expected it to hurt, but instead, everything had just… Stopped. He inhaled deeply, keeping his eyes closed, breathing in the smell of that sweet floral perfume that had first driven him crazy all those weeks ago. He could feel Layla holding on to him, along with the soft kiss of her hair against his cheek and the silky chiffon of her dress that brushed against his fingertips. He was confused.

Was this… Heaven?

No. It couldn’t be; it all felt too real. Besides, he wasn’t exactly sure he believed in heaven, much less convinced he deserved to end up there in the first place.

Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, finding with a slight shock that he was still in the battered but overall intact Sky High gymnasium. He was somehow alive - but more importantly, Layla was still in his arms, also unharmed. And, curiously, there was no more cold wind roaring through the room. Everything was calm and quiet, almost eerily so.

Warren looked out through the broken windows, seeing the tops of houses and trees that were too close for comfort. But the school had stopped falling, instead giving a little jolt before gradually moving straight up like an elevator in a high-rise building. Magenta must have been able to cut through the wires of Royal Pain’s device just before they could hit the ground, and now Will was without a doubt pushing Sky High back to its position thousands of feet in the air.

They had done it, after all. They’d saved the school.

Layla finally opened her eyes, too, realizing with a start that they were okay. She took a few uneven breaths in, shifting slightly to look up at Warren as if she couldn’t believe it. Then, to his utter astonishment, she started laughing.

It wasn’t the kind of laugh one would give after hearing a funny joke, or experiencing a happy surprise. It was clearly the laugh of someone who didn’t know how else to cope with the absolute emotional roller coaster of an evening they’d just gone through. Then, as the gravity of the situation became apparent, the tears that she hadn’t let fall earlier began to flow. Warren knew of little else to do besides silently pull her back into him, taking a chance and gently stroking her hair as she worked through every emotion as they came and went.

“I really thought that was going to be it,” Layla said as she eventually started to regain her composure, wiping at the tears that had escaped past her lower lashes. She settled into Warren’s side, resting her head softly against his shoulder.

He gave a small sigh, admitting sheepishly, “Yeah. So did I.”

They sat quietly on the floor in the middle of the gym as the school continued to climb at a snail’s pace above the clouds. At last, they could relax - or at least try to. Warren closed his eyes once again, content to stay like this with Layla for as long as he possibly could. A part of him was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something else to happen unexpectedly that would tear her away from him for good.

The moment was interrupted by Layla clearing her throat suddenly, his name falling from her lips shortly after with just a hint of hesitation, “...Warren?”

His eyes popped open again, his pulse quickening slightly as he picked up the nervous edge to her voice, “Yeah, hippie?”

She played with the stack of thin gold bracelets on her left wrist. Their little clink-ing noises filled the air as she drew a deep breath in.

There was only one thing he hoped beyond hope that she would say.

“I’m… Sorry.”

And that, Warren thought, was not it.

“What?” he asked, bewildered, as he shifted positions to look her in the eye. He couldn’t imagine what she could possibly feel the need to apologize for right now. “Why are you sorry? None of this is your fault.”

She gazed back at him, her brown eyes somehow full of guilt, “But if I hadn’t been so selfish and asked you to help with my stupid plan, you wouldn’t have come to homecoming, and you would have never had to go through any of this, and you wouldn’t have almost died-”

“No. Layla, stop,” he interrupted her, his voice firm yet gentle. She immediately snapped her mouth shut, and he continued, “You had no idea what was going to happen tonight, and it was all going to happen regardless of whether or not I was here. In fact, I’m happy I was. Even if I didn't make it out alive… It would still have been worth it just to be here with you.”

She regarded him with a mystified look as she whispered, “...Do you really mean that?”

The way he looked at her was indication enough to know that he did - but Layla needed to hear him say it.

“Yeah. I do.”

Layla allowed herself a small smile as the school lurched to a stop, floating steadily in mid-air once more. Much like he had earlier that evening when he’d asked her to dance, Warren held his hand out to her to help her to her feet. She accepted it gladly and they stood, hand-in-hand, neither one of them particularly keen on letting go.

They gazed at each other quietly, and Warren realized for a split second that besides a knocked-out Royal Pain, it was still just the two of them standing in the gym - this could be his opportunity to finally tell her he loved her. The words were right there, sitting on the tip of his tongue… Should he? Was now the right time? They’d just had a near-death experience; maybe it would be too overwhelming. But in a roundabout way, he supposed, he’d already started to. All that was left was for him to see it through.

After all, he hadn’t expected to get a second chance tonight. He couldn’t waste it.

But before he could make up his mind, a soft thud behind him told him that they were no longer alone. Will had flown back in through the broken windows, landing on the ground that was still covered in sharp pieces of glass.

“So, now that we all didn’t die… What next?” he asked in a tone of voice that seemed much too chipper considering the circumstances, walking toward Layla and Warren with a satisfied spring in his step.

They turned to look at him as if snapping out of a trance. Will came to a stop in front of them and glanced curiously down at their still-intertwined fingers - however, he said nothing about it. His inquisitive eyes moved back up to meet Layla’s, waiting for a reply.

Warren let her hand go, albeit unwillingly. That was one can of worms they didn’t need to open right now.

“Well…” she started, her eyes darting around the room awkwardly as she clasped her hands behind her. “Ethan, Zach, and Magenta restored the anti-gravity device. We should go get them first, then find all of the other students and teachers. And your parents.”

“That’ll be easy. Royal Pain had Stitches put them on the buses out front,” Will informed them, jabbing a finger in the direction of the school’s entrance.

“At least they’re all safe and still on school property,” Layla said, keeping her voice matter-of-fact. Her brows furrowed together as she added, “The hard part will be figuring out how to de-pacify them.”

“One thing at a time, I guess,” Warren reasoned, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting from foot to foot.

“Yeah,” Will agreed with a sigh, his eyes switching between Layla and Warren as if he suspected that he’d interrupted something when he walked over. Nevertheless, he mustered up a grin and nodded in the direction of Royal Pain, “So what do you guys think we should do with her?”

The three of them turned to look at the unconscious villain, contemplating their options.

“Hm…” Layla hummed, “I think I might have an idea.”

After having Will carry Royal Pain to the cafeteria so that Layla could trap her in a mess of vines alongside the Pennies, the three of them found Ethan, Zach, and Magenta and immediately went to rescue their pacified peers… But not before giving Lash, Speed, and Stitches the same treatment.

Along the way, Will had told them all about how Gwen wasn’t Royal Pain’s daughter. In reality, she was the original Royal Pain herself - a student-turned-villain named Sue Tenney who had gone to Sky High with their parents back in the eighties, placed in the sidekick class, and spurned because her powers were misunderstood. Enraged, she vowed to get her revenge, but she’d been accidentally pacified by her own creation during the confrontation with The Commander and Jetstream in the warehouse. Stitches had acted as a father as she grew up (again), then once she got to Sky High, she put into motion her plot to pacify everyone and raise them as a whole new generation of villains. Getting so close to Will was just a bonus - it allowed her easy access to the Strongholds, and consequently, the broken Pacifier.

It was all so strange that it was hard to wrap their heads around… Not unlike the sheer amount of babies waiting for them on the buses parked in front of the school.

Ron Wilson had taken care of Stitches while they’d been inside, and he stayed to help them remove each car seat one by one. Luckily, while Professor Medulla had indeed been turned into a baby, his power of super intelligence rendered his mind intact. With a little bit of help from those who did not have infant-sized hands in making the necessary mechanical adjustments, he’d managed to reconfigure the Pacifier to age everyone back up again. It didn’t take long for a line of people to form, each with a baby in their arms, shuffling orderly into Professor Medulla’s classroom.

The nightmare was finally over.

“People, if you’ve already been de-pacified, please find your clothes, grab a baby, and report to the science lab,” the re-adultified Principal Powers instructed those in the hallway outside of the room who had just been returned to their actual age.

Hearing that sentence was the cherry on top of one very surreal night, Warren thought. He hovered close to Layla as they along with her sidekick friends and Ron Wilson watched the intermittent flashes coming from the mad science lab. Will’s parents had been some of the first to get de-pacified, so Will had pulled them aside to talk just a little ways down the hall. While he was preoccupied, Warren turned to Layla, trying to gauge where her mind was at. He’d barely gotten a chance to speak to her since they walked out of the gym with Will.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, so as to not draw too much attention from the others. His gaze flickered for a moment to the spot high on her jawline where he knew the bruise Penny had given her was hidden behind her auburn curls.

“Still a little bit in shock, I think,” she answered, “But overall, better. You?”

Warren shrugged. He honestly didn’t know what he was feeling anymore.

“Considering I didn’t die or get turned into a baby… I’m alright,” he remarked sarcastically, glancing over again at the line which had at last started to dwindle. “Guess we’ll all have to deal with the PTSD later, huh?”

Layla giggled slightly and nodded - if she didn’t at least try to laugh, she might cry again, and she was so done with crying. Giving Warren a little nudge with her elbow, she replied, “Yeah. I hope Sky High has some good guidance counselors.”

He chuckled, “Well, that depends on your definition of good…”

Next to them, Ethan and Zach were giving Magenta and Ron Wilson a play-by-play of what they did while the school was falling out of the sky. They had gotten to the part where they realized they’d stopped falling when they were interrupted by the Commander and Jetstream advancing toward them, carrying the fake Hero of the Year award that had been used by Gwen to lure them to the dance.

Layla and Warren watched while they all stood there, speechless, as the duo recognized them for their efforts that evening.

“It belongs to them,” insisted Jetstream, “The sidekicks. I mean, hero support.”

“Why don’t we just call them what they really are, Josie? Heroes,” said the Commander, holding out the trophy to them.

Layla turned to Warren, the grin he was so fond of slowly spreading across her face. He couldn’t help but return a small smile back, even as Will was now making his way over to them. She leaned in closer, reaching for his hand and giving it a little squeeze.

“You’re a hero too, you know,” she said in a near-whisper, only meant for him to hear.

In a way, he figured, maybe she was right. He knew he wasn’t his father; he knew that he had never wanted to follow in his footsteps by becoming a villain. And yet, people had villainized him regardless.

But tonight, he realized, he’d proven them all wrong.

Perhaps, Warren thought, he really was a hero… Layla certainly thought he was, and as far as he was concerned, her’s was the opinion that mattered the most. She’d been the only one who’d seen him - who’d ever truly seen him - and who he could be, instead of who everyone else assumed he was just because he was Barron Battle’s son.

And hopefully now, the rest of the super community would see it, too.

Although he tried not to make it obvious in front of Stronghold, he gazed down at her softly, unable to say a word as he felt his heart swell. It was bittersweet - he wished he could pull her in and claim her lips right then and there, just as brazenly as Will had done earlier. He almost couldn’t take it anymore, but he knew he had to wait just a little while longer.

He wouldn’t let her leave tonight not knowing exactly what she meant to him.

Chapter Text

Saturday, October 15th, 2005 - 11:02pm

In no time at all, it seemed, the gym was packed with students once again. It was far from perfect, but the faculty had managed to quickly clear up enough of the mess in order to make the space functional. And although the band that Gwen booked packed up and left immediately after being de-pacified (vowing never to return), they still had the gym’s sound system that they could use for music. Why not finish the night on a high note, argued Principal Powers - Royal Pain and everyone else involved in the evening’s shenanigans had been placed in the detention room until they could be handed over to the authorities in the morning, so the threat was neutralized. There was no reason why the kids couldn’t have just a little bit of fun to make up for their traumatic experience.

“I have de-pacified all the babies, and destroyed that horrible weapon, forever,” Professor Medulla announced proudly from the podium on the stage, standing in front of the windows that still had a gaping hole in them. Any major repairs would have to be sorted out starting tomorrow.

Applause erupted from the student body, who were more than ready to put the unfortunate events of the night behind them.

“Let’s boogie!” Medulla exclaimed, clicking a button on the remote that turned the sound system on.

A lively, upbeat song began to blast from the speakers. The crowd made their way to the dance floor and immediately started to twist and turn along to the rhythm, being careful to avoid the area of splintered floorboards that had been broken by Royal Pain.

Mr. Boy and a few other teachers brought in more food from the cafeteria kitchens - fruit and vegetable platters, cheese and crackers, slices of cake. Layla hadn’t realized just how starving she was until she saw it all being laid out on the buffet tables along the side of the room. The way her stomach growled served as an immediate reminder that the only thing she’d eaten the entire evening was the single cheese cube she’d had with Warren earlier.

“I’m gonna grab something to eat,” she told her friends, who had all gathered in a spot on the bleachers at the edge of the dance floor. They’d already texted their parents to let them know what happened, that they were safe, and to not worry that they’d be out later than planned. It was finally time to enjoy the night. She got to her feet and added, “You guys don’t have to wait for me, though. Go have fun!”

Just as she finished stacking one of the blue single-use plastic plates (a sin she’d have to atone for at a later time) high with cheese, crackers, and various types of berries, she felt a presence close by on her left hand side grabbing for a piece of chocolate cake. She turned to find Warren, who had also apparently chosen to abandon their group in favor of some light refreshments.

“Crazy how hungry free-falling thousands of feet can make you, huh?” he remarked facetiously, shoving a sizable fork full of cake into his mouth.

“No kidding,” she laughed, eyeing the dessert, “Now you’re making me want one of those, too.”

He picked up another plate with a piece for her and nodded back in the direction of their spot on the bleachers, returning to find that everyone else had taken to the dance floor. They sat, Layla gratefully taking the cake that Warren had grabbed for her and placing her other plate down in the space between them.

“Have as much of this as you want,” she offered warmly, “I can always get more.”

As they ate together in comfortable silence, finishing their slices of cake and sharing the mountain of fruit and cheese she’d taken from the buffet, she tried to locate the rest of her friends. To her surprise, Magenta had accompanied Zach out onto the crowd in the middle of the gym, where she was now trying somewhat successfully to decipher his wacky dance technique. Ethan had charmed a tall, pretty sophomore girl and was doing the robot with her while simultaneously wielding the Hero of the Year trophy in one of his hands - he hadn’t let it out of his sight since The Commander handed it over. Layla smiled as she watched them, happy that they were at long last getting the homecoming experience they’d hoped for.

Meanwhile, Will was across the room bouncing between all of the hero class students outside of Gwen’s group that he’d befriended over the past month - they hugged him, congratulated him, celebrated his take-down of Royal Pain. For a split second, if Layla didn’t know any better, it felt almost as if nothing had changed since the start of the dance… As if he hadn’t apologized for acting like a total jerk, then kissed her unexpectedly.

Oh, yeah. That had happened… And she still needed to figure out what to do about it.

But more importantly, she realized, she had to make sure that the guy currently sitting next to her hadn’t gotten the wrong idea.

Warren, having stacked up their now-empty plates and put them to the side, suddenly cleared his throat. Layla jumped slightly in surprise, having been completely zoned out as she muddled over the least awkward way to broach the subject.

Little did she know that Warren had also been staring out at the crowd, his mind in a very similar place.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, feeling bad for startling her. He took a deep breath in, readying himself for the conversation he’d been waiting to have with her all night. “So… About earlier…”

Oh, Gaia. He had assumed the worst - but how could he have not? The main reason they’d even been at homecoming together in the first place was because of Layla’s plan to make Will jealous. Layla felt her stomach twist into a knot at the thought. The whole thing seemed so convoluted now, even more so because he had no clue how her feelings had changed.

She bit at her bottom lip, looking away from him briefly before blurting out, “Warren, it’s really not what you think.”

He paused, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“Hippie, what are you talking about?” he asked, baffled at her statement.

Layla tilted her head to the side, just as perplexed, “What do you mean what am I talking about? What are you talking about?”

He sat up a little bit straighter, shifting around so that he was now facing her. His eyes scanned her face, wishing for a split second that he could read minds instead of hurl fireballs.

“I’m talking about what I was trying to say to you earlier… After we danced together, and before everyone got pacified,” he said slowly and deliberately, never once taking his eyes off of her. “Right when Will’s parents walked in.”

Truthfully, it felt like it had been a million years since they’d shared that slow dance. So much had happened since then - no wonder it took until now for Layla to remember how he seemed to stumble over his words right as the song had come to an end, unble to get them out before Gwen went and turned everything upside-down. She felt awful for having forgotten.

One thing she didn’t forget, however, was the tender way he held her, or how he gazed down at her like he’d wanted to kiss her. The thought of it made her start to blush.

“Oh. Oh,” she shook her head in embarrassment, hoping her cheeks weren’t turning an incriminating shade of pink. “I’m so sorry. It’s almost like that happened a whole lifetime ago.”

Warren all of a sudden felt very, very tired as he mumbled, “Yeah. That’s the understatement of the year.”

He knew he couldn’t keep holding out forever. Still, as he studied her with just a hint of uncertainty, he was having a hard time forming the words. It was as if someone had decided to glue his tongue to the roof of his mouth, rendering him unable to speak.

What if, after everything, she didn’t want him the way he so desperately wanted her?

“Well… What was it you were going to tell me?” Layla asked softly. The way she looked up at him through her lashes made his heartbeat accelerate.

Warren took a look around - at the lights, at the crowd, at the doors just over to the side of where they sat on the bleachers. Even though they were tucked away in the corner of the gym, this was something he preferred to do without an audience. It was too important to him; this moment deserved to be quieter, more intimate. He stood up abruptly, motioning for her to do the same, and although she seemed befuddled as to why, she still complied.

He was about to lead her out through the side doors when Will bounded up to them, still riding the high from all the recognition he’d been receiving from his peers.

“Hey, Warren!” he called out jovially, a wide grin plastered to his face, “Can I borrow Layla for a sec?”

Without waiting for an answer, he swooped in and picked her up by the waist with his super strength.

“Will, what are you… Ah!” she yelled as he began to levitate with her. He spun her around in mid-air, making the skirt of her dress billow out behind her. She didn’t look like she was enjoying it in the slightest - in fact, she seemed mildly terrified, clinging to him as if he were a buoy far out at sea.

Warren watched helplessly, furiously, as Will whisked her away in the direction of the shattered windows. Layla looked back at him apologetically, mouthing the word “sorry” with a frown.

“I’ll bring her back in a little bit! Promise!” he called out over his shoulder as he flew, smiling, not knowing what he had interrupted yet again.

…Or did he?

Warren walked around the perimeter of the dance floor, inching his way closer to the stage and the windows that sat in the background. He felt all of the air leave his lungs as he watched Will, floating outside in the cool night air, lean in to give Layla his second kiss of the night. Seeing it happen again hurt even more than the first time around, as if someone had reached deep inside of his chest and clawed his heart out.

If they were keeping score tonight, it would be Stronghold, two. Warren… Zero.

Warren shoved his hands in his pockets, not quite knowing what to do with himself now that he was facing the outcome he feared the most. His only option seemed to be to leave - what else could he do besides swallow his pride and accept defeat? He shook his head in dejection, loathing himself for thinking that this would have ever ended up in his favor.

Just before he could turn to go, a twinkle of light caught the corner of his eye. He did a double-take when he realized that someone had walked up to him: a tall blonde in a dress as white as snow.

It was Brittney Wilson, the girl who everyone in his class referred to simply as Freeze Girl.

She looked up at him flirtatiously as one of her hands frosted over. Acting entirely on impulse (and heartbreak), he ignited his palm and offered it to her. She accepted, not so much as flinching from the heat. Without a word, Warren led her past the throng of dancing students and out the doors he had been about to take Layla through.

As soon as they exited the packed gymnasium, Brittney guided him around the corner and toward a cluster of lockers down the hall, pulling him toward her with an expectant look in her eyes. Warren’s hands had somehow found their way to her hips, and her’s to the back of his neck. Her touch was shockingly cold, fingers like icicles as they intertwined under his long hair. She was waiting for him to kiss her, he realized. It would be so easy - all he had to do was bend down and press his lips to hers.

But it just felt wrong. He immediately regretted even giving Brittney a second glance. All he could picture was Layla’s face: the warmth in her eyes, the peony pink blush of her cheeks, her peachy lip gloss smile.

Brittney was not Layla.

She’d never hold a candle to her.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss me?” she asked, looking at him inquisitively as he hesitated in front of her. Warren was pretty sure these were the first words she’d ever spoken directly to him. And yet here she was, expecting him to make out with her in an empty hallway, just outside of a school dance that he had only come to for a girl who wasn’t her.

He stared back, stone-faced, and shook his head as he replied in a thick voice, “No.”

He immediately freed himself from Brittney’s grasp and backed away from her, silently indicating to her that she should go. As soon as she realized she was being rejected, her expression became icy.

“Jerk,” she spat, her ego clearly wounded, as she pushed away from the lockers behind her. She tried to reach out a hand and freeze him, but her efforts were so futile it was almost laughable - the frost coming from her palm melted on contact.

At least there seemed to be one benefit to having pyrokinetic abilities. He thought back to his conversation with Layla about his powers, and how determined she was to convince him that his power could be useful and not just harmful. He wished he could tell her about his powers effectively canceling out Brittney’s, hear her laugh and say “I told you so!” in that good-natured way of hers.

But what would she think of him if she found out about this?

Warren wasn’t so sure he wanted to know.

As soon as Brittney realized she would neither be getting her way nor getting any kind of retribution, she gave a frustrated huff and stormed down the hallway, back in the direction of the dance.

Ironic, Warren thought as he now stood alone. Brittney had called him the same thing Layla had called the other guys at Sky High, namely Will, just a few hours ago. Yet, somehow, that jerk still managed to come out on top. He sighed and turned away, the muffled sounds of music and other students coming from the gym becoming more and more faint the farther away he got from it.

Outside, Warren was able to quickly find Ron Wilson, who along with a handful of other drivers was readying the fleet of flying school buses for their trips back down to the various neighborhoods of Maxville. He knocked on the glass pane of the door to get his attention.

“Hey, kiddo,” Ron Wilson said in greeting as he opened up the doors of his bus, the nickname making Warren cringe slightly, “You’re out here early. I thought they extended homecoming til midnight?”

“They did,” Warren said listlessly, “But I’m over it. Would you be willing to leave a little early?”

Ron’s kind face became full of concern as he studied Warren’s melancholy expression - it reminded him of the way Layla often looked at him, trying to dissect whatever was bothering him.

“Sure thing, climb aboard. But, if you don’t mind me asking… What’s wrong?” he asked, peering down from the driver’s seat. “You look a little troubled.”

Warren slowly climbed the set of stairs that led up into the cabin, but not before taking one last look in the direction of the gym. He paused next to Ron, shaking his head in resignation.

“Just the disappointment of wanting something you can’t have.”

Ron nodded knowingly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Hah, don’t I understand that,” he said, attempting to empathize. He leaned in a little closer to Warren, explaining, “I don’t know if you know this, but I always wanted powers. Never got them, even though my parents were both heroes. It’s why I’m here driving buses instead of saving the world.”

Warren only stared back at the well-meaning bus driver, wanting desperately to go take a seat so he could get away from Sky High faster, but not wanting to look like an asshole. A little over a month ago, he wouldn’t have cared - but now, after experiencing Layla and all of her kindness and altruism, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

She had changed him irrevocably.

Ron continued when he was sure Warren had no intention of replying, “...But I’m starting to suspect that your something, is really a someone.”

Warren muttered glumly, “I’m that transparent, huh?”

Ron only shrugged.

“Well, as Ron Wilson, bus driver, I take my job very seriously,” he replied, “I’m extremely vigilant when it comes to the safety and comfort of my passengers. Therefore, I am always watching. And listening.”

Warren peered back at him, confused, “...Right. And that has to do with my situation, how?”

He gave a wry grin, “I’m privy to more of the student drama than you might think.”

Wait… Did Ron Wilson know about Layla’s crush on Will, and her fake relationship with Warren to make Will jealous? It wasn’t an inconceivable thought - after all, he did fly Layla and Will to school and back every day. Taking that into consideration, and going off of the conversation they were currently having, did he also figure out that Warren had ended up falling for her?

Ron answered those questions without Warren actually having to speak them out loud.

“Look, I really like Will. He’s a good kid at heart, but… I don’t like him for Layla,” he remarked, pausing thoughtfully before continuing, “Sure, he’s cool, and has amazing powers, and saved the school from leveling a whole neighborhood tonight-“

Warren raised an eyebrow, wondering where he was going with this.

“-However, with all that being said, he’s got a lot of growing up to do. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve seen Layla get on the bus so far this year close to tears because of him. She deserves someone a little more mature, if you ask me.”

Warren swallowed hard, averting his eyes from Ron’s, “Yeah. Too bad that’s not what she wants.”

Ron Wilson frowned slightly, but gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Try to keep your head up, kid.”

“Thanks,” Warren mumbled.

He finally made his way back to the rows of empty seats for the quietest bus ride from Sky High he’d ever taken, wondering the whole time how he’d be able to push aside his broken heart to stay in Layla’s life…

Or if he could, at all.

“Will, slow down!” Layla protested, hanging on to her friend for dear life while he carried her up and over the crowd of students on the dance floor. The sensation of flying was starting to make her feel dizzy, even a little nauseous - she wished he would go back and put her down instead. Especially because she had the feeling that whatever Warren had been about to tell her, which Will so tactlessly interrupted, was important enough to potentially change the trajectory of their relationship forever. She wanted to get back to him as soon as possible. “Where are you taking me?”

“Outside. The view is incredible!” Will said, causing Layla to involuntarily tighten her grip around him.

“Are you crazy?! That’s dangerous!” she replied, eyes widening.

He only chuckled, “Don’t freak out, you’ll be fine! I won’t drop you.”

Layla wanted to trust that he wouldn’t, but considering the amount of times he had let her down in other ways over the last few weeks, she wasn’t so confident.

Will drifted to a stop, hovering with her in mid-air just outside the broken windows. The light from the full moon illuminated the side of the building, casting two long shadows of their floating silhouettes on the wall of the school. Layla made the mistake of looking down - directly beneath them there was a sliver of the school grounds, a grassy slope bordered by a high fence that was clearly meant to keep students in as opposed to keep anything else out. But beyond that was a whole lot of nothing, thousands upon thousands of feet of open air separating Sky High from the surface of the earth. They’d already fallen from this height once tonight, she remembered with a shudder. She had no desire to do it again.

Layla, heart racing, looked back up at Will to ask him exactly why he thought it was a good idea to bring her out here. But she hadn’t so much as parted her lips to speak before Will leaned in and kissed her, eagerly and with much more self-assurance than he had back in the hallway in front of their friends.

This time, however, Layla had the presence of mind to gently pull back and break it off before he got carried away.

“Layla, what’s wrong?” Will asked, seeming baffled as to why she hadn’t reciprocated.

Layla felt absolutely awful, like somehow she was in the wrong and leading him on by letting him get this far again. She took one long breath in and out, buying herself a few seconds to mentally prepare before attempting to let him down easy.

“...I’m sorry, Will,” she settled on, averting her eyes so she wouldn’t see the way her words would undoubtedly crush him. “This just doesn’t feel right.”

Will’s hold on her stiffened a little bit. He clearly hadn’t been expecting this kind of reaction from her.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, flummoxed, “I thought… I thought you were into me? That you had a crush on me?”

“I do,” Layla blurted out hastily, so lost in the fact that there was no going back now that she'd inadvertently said the wrong thing. Silently chastising herself, she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, immediately correcting, “Well, I did. But now…”

Will frowned, beginning to see where this was going, “But now…?”

Layla sighed. Not too long ago, she’d thought that telling Will she had feelings for him was the scariest and most difficult thing in the world. Now that she was face-to-face with him, trying to figure out how to tell him she was in fact no longer in love with him, she realized that she had been wrong.

This was infinitely harder.

She’d done so much pretending since they had started high school. At first, pretending that she didn’t have a crush on Will in order to maintain their friendship. Next, pretending to be happy for him about his relationship with Gwen. And then, pretending to date Warren, all in the hopes of making Will somehow want her instead. With a start, she realized she'd gotten exactly what that version of Layla wanted.

The only problem? Everything had changed now… She was no longer that Layla. And she knew without a doubt that this wasn’t what she wanted, after all.

It was time to stop pretending.

“Look, Will… It took me a while, because I always thought since we were best friends for so long that it would be natural and easy to become something more. Like it was supposed to happen,” Layla said, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “But I’ve come to realize that we just aren’t meant to be together like that. We’re not compatible that way. And that’s okay.”

Will seemed stunned silent by her admission - the only noise between them was of the revelry coming from within the school gym, seeping out and echoing through the cool, empty air.

“So, what you’re saying is…” he mused slowly, as if each word weighed a million tons and he was struggling to get them out, “You’re not in love with me?”

Layla nodded quietly, feeling almost ashamed - guilty as charged.

“I do love you, Will. Even after everything, I still have so much love for you. You’ve been my best friend since first grade,” Layla said, smiling sadly as she reminisced about the childhood they’d shared. “But, no. I’m not in love with you. I know it probably hurts to hear, and I feel bad about it too, but… I don’t want to hurt you more by making you think otherwise. And besides… I don’t want to be a consolation prize.”

Will furrowed his brows together, recoiling at her statement, “Layls, you’re not a consolation prize. Why would you say that?”

Her expression grew solemn as she inquired softly, “If Gwen hadn’t turned out to be totally evil, would you two have even broken up?”

Will was quiet as he grappled with her question - even he wasn’t sure of the answer, and it made him feel like he should apologize to her all over again.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Layla added quickly, sparing him. She didn’t particularly want to know. “And beyond that, I know you’ve apologized for acting like a jerk this past month, and I forgive you. It’s just… I can’t forget about it in an instant, like it never happened. It’s gonna take some time for me to be able to fully trust you again.”

Will nodded, recognizing like he had at The Paper Lantern last night that these were entirely the consequences of his actions, “I understand.”

The disappointment in his voice was undeniable - he seemed to be able to look anywhere but at her as he continued to hold her, floating in the night sky. But despite that, he appeared to be taking things relatively well, which is all Layla could have hoped for. Still, she felt a tug at her heartstrings as she watched him internalize everything she had told him up to this point.

“Hey,” she said gently, trying to reassure him, “You’re still my friend, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Will uttered, attempting some kind of taut-looking smile while hesitantly meeting her eyes once again. “Um… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

He paused and took a sharp breath in, creating a moment of silence that seemed to linger far longer than the few seconds it lasted in reality. Layla had a feeling that she knew what the question would be before he even spoke it into existence.

“...You’re into Warren, aren’t you?”

Hearing Will say it was nothing short of jarring - especially since he had been the guy she’d started this school year pining over. Yet, it confirmed what Layla had known in her heart of hearts for a while: that somehow, in the midst of their fake-dating scheme, she had fallen in love with Warren Peace.

Finally acknowledging that fact out loud felt like it would set her free.

“Yeah,” Layla nodded, her face warming as she admitted it for the very first time, “I am.”

Will bowed his head in acceptance, managing a halfhearted version of one of his classic lopsided grins as he looked back up at her and said, “Well, in that case… Let’s get you back inside. I think you need to go tell him.”

He guided them back through the windows, albeit slower this time, first placing Layla carefully down on the wooden floor of the gym before landing himself.

“Are you upset?” Layla asked tentatively as he backed away from her, removing his hands from her waist.

“I mean… I am a little sad, not going to lie,” Will confessed with a shrug, “But mostly, as your friend, I just want to see you happy.”

It was admirable, she thought, the way he was able to look past his own feelings in order for her to fulfill her happiness. If only she could have done the same for him - her unchecked envy had, if just for a moment, turned her into someone she wasn’t very proud of. She felt bad for letting it get the best of her, even though her instincts were right and the girl Will had dated turned out to be an actual supervillain. This would have to be an experience to learn and grow from, to be better in the future.

Moreover, if she hadn’t acted on her jealousy, she probably would have never gotten to know Warren.

So maybe it wasn’t a total mistake.

Layla stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Will one last time before the night’s end in a thankful (and one-hundred-percent platonic) hug.

“Thank you, Will,” she murmured as he reciprocated, being careful not to make the hug last too long.

“No need to thank me. After messing things up as bad as I did, of course I'm gonna do my best to support you,” he insisted, pulling away. He nodded his head in the direction of where they had left Warren no more than ten minutes ago. “Now go find him.”

Layla, feeling unstoppable, stood up a little bit straighter as she turned and made the journey around the crowd of dancing students in the middle of the room. Her heart raced - she was really going to do this. No backing down, no second-guessing herself like she had done with trying to ask Will to homecoming. She remembered that first conversation with Warren in her booth - their booth - at The Paper Lantern, recalling the phrase he’d tried to pass off as a fortune, but had actually come from him:

To let true love remain unspoken, is the quickest route to a heavy heart.

She wouldn’t let her feelings remain unspoken this time. But upon making it back to the spot near the bleachers, however, Layla found that Warren was no longer there.

Maybe he was getting another slice of cake? She glanced over at the buffet tables in time to see Ethan, Zach, and Magenta taking plastic party cups of punch from Mr. Boy. Warren wasn’t with them. Turning to the dance floor, she quickly scanned the swarm of teenagers moving along to the music… No Warren, not at least that she could see. She didn’t think he would be dancing, anyway. But there weren’t many more places he could be.

Layla gave a forlorn sigh - had he assumed that her original plan to end up with Will was successful and left? Considering that was why she’d asked him to come to the dance in the first place, it seemed likely.

Her friends had now found their way over to her, approaching with whatever snacks were left from the refreshments table.

“Hey,” Magenta said, sipping on her punch, “Where’ve you been? We took a break from dancing but couldn’t find you.”

“Catching up with Will,” Layla answered, not really in the mood to elaborate. She re-examined the dance floor, starting to feel a little more desperate this time, “Has anyone seen Warren?”

“...No,” Magenta said as the guys both shook their heads in silent corroboration. “Not since the dance re-started. Why?”

Layla shifted restlessly from foot to foot, “I just really need to talk to him. Are you sure you haven’t seen him anywhere?”

The three sidekicks exchanged knowing glances. Zach and Ethan had been so confused at Will’s sudden romantic gestures toward Layla that Magenta took it upon herself to fill them in about the whole fake-dating plan before they had resumed the homecoming dance. And - more importantly - she’d explained her newest theory, too.

After seeing Layla dance with Warren earlier, all of Magenta’s suspicions had been confirmed: the two were totally into each other. She knew without a doubt now that there had been something decidedly not-fake about their relationship. Unfortunately, the lovebirds in question were both too stuck in their own heads to realize it. Not to mention that Will showing up and unexpectedly making a move on Layla had complicated things, more than likely leaving Warren to his own assumptions.

Now, Warren was apparently nowhere to be found. What an absolute mess of a night.

“Yeah. We were on the dance floor up until like, five minutes ago and didn’t see him around,” Zach explained, chewing on a chunk of cheese.

“If we did, we’d totally tell you,” Ethan added for good measure.

Layla nodded slowly in acceptance, feeling defeated.

“Oh. Well… I think I need some fresh air,” she said, trying to mask the disappointment in her voice. Never mind that she had just been outside with Will - the thought of Warren seeing them together and assuming they were now a couple made her want to be anywhere besides the hot, stuffy gym. “The dance is almost over, anyway. Meet me out on the front steps when you guys leave, okay?”

Before any of them could answer, Layla turned and moved like a ghost in the direction of the exit, leaving her friends to stand awkwardly gripping their refreshments as they watched her go.

Chapter Text

Sunday, October 16th, 2005

Layla Williams: Hey, r u working on tues?

…

…

…

Reply To: Layla Williams

Yeah. But don't bother|
Yeah. But d|
Yea|
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No. Took the day off becau|
No. Took the da|
No|
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Why do you want to kn|
Why do you|
Wh|
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-Canceled-

Sunday, October 16th, 2005 - 11:27am

Outgoing Text: Maj, call asap! URGENT!!

Layla had spent the majority of the morning (after waking up much later than usual) in bed, curled up in her blankets and staring at the cell phone on her bedside table, willing it to ring. Her entire body seemed to ache, but she couldn’t pinpoint just one reason why. Maybe it was because of the running, the fighting, the pure physical exertion of the battle for Sky High? Maybe it was the fact that she’d been up until well after one o’ clock in the morning? Or maybe it was the emotional toll of yesterday’s events, starting with nearly getting pacified, rejecting the guy she used to have feelings for, and narrowly missing her opportunity to confess her feelings to the guy she’d been fake-dating to make the other one jealous?

More than likely, it was the compounding effects of all of the above. There was so much mental riff-raff to sort through, and Layla needed the guidance of her most level-headed friend.

If only she would call.

Patience, she had to remind herself. Magenta went through a traumatic experience, too, and was likely still sleeping it off.

Luckily, they’d have more time to process everything than just today. Layla’s mom popped her head in a little while earlier to inform her that Principal Powers sent out a school-wide phone message explaining what had happened at Sky High the night before, and what would be happening next: namely, that classes were suspended for the whole week. There were simply too many major repairs required in the gym, cafeteria, and various classrooms that had been damaged in the fight with Royal Pain; not to mention the students themselves would need some time to decompress before getting back to their regularly scheduled academia.

It was probably for the best, Layla figured. Seeing Warren at school tomorrow would have undoubtedly distracted her from anything having to do with her studies. All she could think about presently was how badly she wanted to talk to him - in fact, the first thing she did when she woke up was text him to see if he would be working on Tuesday. But much like with her SOS to Magenta, she had yet to receive a response.

In all honesty, considering the very real possibility that he assumed she and Will were now together, she wasn't so sure Warren would be happy to see her at The Paper Lantern if she did go. Why else would he have left homecoming without a trace? Despite her insistence that she'd still like to be his friend regardless of if she ended up with Will or not, Layla imagined that Warren probably wanted to go back to the way his life was before she so inconsiderately dragged him into her juvenile scheme.

…And she really couldn't blame him if that was the case.

The problem with that, though, was that Layla's feelings for him had now evolved past friendship. Falling for him instead of winning over Will was never an outcome that she had anticipated. Horrified, she realized that she was now right back to where she'd started out at the beginning of the school year: hopelessly in love with someone who likely no longer wanted her around.

The idealistic part of her wished Warren would just reach out and end her misery. The realistic part of her, however, surmised that he wouldn’t. It was driving her absolutely crazy.

This was exactly why she needed Magenta to talk her out of her spiral.

As she watched the number on her alarm clock creep closer to noon, her cell phone finally started to ring, and the little screen on the outside illuminated with Magenta’s name. Layla jumped to snatch her phone from its resting spot, hastily flipping it open and jabbering a mile a minute, “Maj! Oh my Gaia, so much happened last night and I can’t stop over-thinking and it’s driving me insane-”

“Layls,” her friend interrupted, sounding groggy, “You’re gonna have to slow down. I just woke up and saw your text.”

Layla grimaced at her own lack of propriety, leaning back against her assortment of throw pillows, “Sorry. Thanks for calling so quickly.”

“Don’t mention it,” Magenta yawned. There was a little bit of shuffling on the other end before she continued, “So, tell me. What exactly is plaguing your mind?”

Pausing, Layla contemplated where to begin. Perhaps she just needed to get the bombshell revelation out of the way first, so that everything else making her head spin would make sense. After all, in a turn of events that surprised even herself, the only one she’d admitted her feelings for Warren to so far was Will. Thinking back to her first day at Sky High, past-Layla would never have guessed the homecoming dance culminating with that.

She sighed, mentally preparing herself for her friend's reaction before confessing, “...I’m in love with Warren Peace.”

Magenta’s simple answer, however, left her astounded, “Yeah. I know.”

Layla, thoroughly taken aback, shot up stiffly in her bed as she all but exclaimed, “You know?”

Her friend only chuckled on the other end of the line.

“Of course I know, Layla,” Magenta said, “You couldn’t hide a crush if your life depended on it. I was just waiting for you to tell me.”

Layla could feel her face getting hot - what did she mean she couldn’t hide a crush?! But as she remembered how quickly Warren had sussed out her feelings for Will, she realized that Magenta had a point. Maybe she did tend to wear her heart on her sleeve.

“Ugh. You’re probably right,” she groaned, frustrated with herself. “How long have you known?”

“I suspected it for a little while,” her friend explained, “But I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure of it until I saw you two together at homecoming. You guys dancing together? Dead giveaway.”

Layla was grateful that Magenta couldn’t see her blush through the phone.

“It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?” she asked in a quiet voice, picking up a flower-shaped pillow and hugging it to her chest. “I started off with a crush on Will, and ended up falling for the son of the guy his parents put in jail for life. Four lives, if you wanna get technical.”

“Well when you put it like that, yeah,” Magenta said dryly.

“And after the stunt Will pulled yesterday, he probably thinks we’re together,” Layla lamented. “You know, since that was the plan all along? I was trying to find him last night so I could set the record straight and tell him how I feel, but…”

“But? Just tell him the truth now. No better time than the present.”

Magenta’s solution was pragmatic, practical, and what Layla would have done had she not convinced herself that Warren wanted nothing to do with her. Now, however, she feared the reaction she’d get if she tried.

“I wish it was that simple,” Layla complained.

“It can be. Just don't overthink it,” her friend said, as if that one piece of advice would solve all of her problems.

“I'm not so sure about that... For a while yesterday I really thought that there could be something, some kind of spark between us. And that he felt it, too," she sighed, staring at the windows across from her. The closed blinds were just barely letting in thin horizontal lines of golden mid-October sunlight, and Layla suddenly longed to go outside, to feel the fleeting autumnal rays comfortingly caress her skin.

Languishing in her situation instead, she continued, "But what if he thinks that I got what I originally wanted, and now he wants to go back to being strangers again? I told him no matter what happened with Will I'd still want to be friends, but that doesn't mean that he still would. Besides, that was before I went and fell for him…”

“Layls, what did I just say about not overthinking it?” Magenta countered, hating how dejected her friend sounded. For someone who led with her heart, she had the unfortunate tendency to let her head get in the way. “You also told him that the plan was off, right? So why would any of that be true?”

The line was quiet for a moment as Layla tried to figure out an answer that would satisfy them both.

“I was with Warren when Will came and found me after the dance re-started. He picked me up, flew me outside, and kissed me again. I told him I just didn’t feel that way about him anymore,” she explained, adding as an aside, “He took it well. But what if Warren saw that, too? He left without even saying goodbye, Maj.”

To Layla’s perplexity, Magenta laughed lightly on the other end, “If only you could see that Warren is just as into you as you are into him. If I had to guess, maybe even more.”

Layla’s heartbeat quickened involuntarily as the words registered.

“…You’re not being serious. Are you?”

“Uh, yeah," her friend asserted, “Warren came to homecoming for you. He wore a tux for you. And, he slow danced with you. Do you even notice the way he looks at you during lunch? He’s so lovesick that I think it’s contagious, and it’s starting to make me feel all soft. You need to call him, or text him. Something.”

Layla was stunned. It felt like Magenta had just delivered an electric shock - she was convinced Warren was in love with her. Admittedly, a part of her had been convinced last night, too… But still, despite it all, she wavered.

“I’ve tried, Maj. He hasn't sent anything back, and I don't know if he ever will,” she said miserably.

What happened to the confident, strong-willed person she had been yesterday? Had it simply been a trial run that expired? She should know better by now than to let her happiness be determined by the attention of a boy. Yet, the prospect of losing Warren made her feel helpless.

“Layla, please don't work yourself up over this. Warren will reach out, eventually,” Magenta tried to assure her. “He might just need some time. But when he does, you gotta promise me that you won't chicken out and that you'll tell him how you feel, alright? No more secret plans."

"…Okay," Layla muttered reluctantly before wondering aloud, "Do you think I should just get up the courage and try going to The Paper Lantern on Tuesday? He usually works in the evening."

Magenta paused, considering this information.

"Hmm… No. You gotta let him come to you. And I think he will."

Layla nodded, even though Magenta wasn't there to see it.

"Thanks, Maj. This is why I needed to talk to you about this instead of my mom... I just hope you're right."

“Luckily for you, I can't remember a time when I wasn't right,” her friend joked, adding, “Well, I’m gonna go because I’m starving. But if you need anything else or if you hear from Warren just text me, alright?”

“I will. Talk to you later,” Layla said softly, her goodbye punctuated by the little electronic beep noise indicating the end of the call. She snapped her phone shut as her stomach grumbled angrily - something to eat didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

She finally dragged herself out of bed, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas before making her way downstairs. In the kitchen, her mom sat at the table, embroiled in her own phone conversation on their landline. Layla walked silently past her, making a beeline for the fridge to see what was readily available. She had no motivation to actually cook herself something - not when her mind was this preoccupied. As she perused the shelves, she eavesdropped on what her mom was saying.

“So, Saturday is good for you? Fantastic! I’ll swing by at about ten? Okay. See you then! Bye,” her mom said, pressing the end call button and jotting something down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Who was that?” Layla inquired, finding some leftover tofu curry from the other night. Good enough.

With a pleased smile, Ms. Williams answered, “That was Karen Peace! I can’t believe it.”

Layla nearly dropped the container as she took it out from the fridge.

“M-Ms. Peace? What was she calling about?” she asked, trying her best to not sound as flustered as she felt. She was careful to keep her back toward her mother as she re-gained her composure, moving to place the leftovers in the microwave.

“She said you gave her our number and that she’s been dying to catch up with me. We’re meeting for coffee next weekend,” her mom explained happily as if she hadn’t noticed her daughter’s blunder, taking a slip of paper that said “coffee @ 10, Saturday” in her fluid shorthand over to the fridge an affixing it with a cat-shaped magnet.

“Oh, how… Nice,” Layla forced herself to say over the hum of the microwave.

“I know! I’m excited to reconnect with her,” her mother chirped, buzzing around the kitchen and pulling out a handful of reusable shopping bags before coming to stand next to her daughter. “I was just about to go to the grocery store when she called. Did you want to come with me? I can wait a little while, so you can eat and get ready.”

Layla shook her head adamantly. A couple of hours at home alone sounded wonderful - plus, it would help stall any dialogue with her mom about homecoming. Besides… Knowing that she was going to be hanging out with Warren's mom this weekend was sure to make being around her feel even more awkward.

"It's okay. I don't want to set you back even more," she said. At least it was a half-truth.

Ms. Williams shrugged, "I wouldn't mind. But whatever you want to do - I know you had a long night last night."

If only her mom knew what an understatement that was.

She turned to go, but not before giving one of Layla's shoulders a little squeeze.

"Principal Powers told me about how you and your friends helped to save the school. I'm so proud of you, sweetie," she said with a sincere smile. "I just thought you should know."

Layla supposed she should feel happy. Proud of herself, even. But she still felt so mixed up inside, like one of Abigail Hale's tornadoes had ripped through her mind, leaving a path of destruction in its wake.

"Thanks, mom," she all but forced out, trying desperately to sound like she meant it.

Ms. Williams snatched up her car keys from the hook beside the door that lead to the driveway, giving her daughter a slight wave before she made her exit.

Layla, happy to be alone for once, hugged her arms to her chest and stared at the container of curry as it spun around and around in the microwave. So - her mom and Warren's mom were getting together on Saturday. What would they talk about? Surely, they would bring up the fact that their kids were spending time together… Keyword, were.

She tried to tell herself that maybe, Warren had slept in longer than she had today and that's why he hadn't replied to her text. But what if he was ignoring her on purpose? What if he never answered her? What would she tell her mom if she asked about him? She didn't know.

The only thing that could halt her stream of hypotheticals was the sudden beeping noise of the microwave, indicating to her that her leftovers were ready.

Tuesday, October 18th, 2005 - 7:10pm

Magenta couldn't believe she had convinced Zach so easily that she wanted to go to a Chinese restaurant for their first official date… She was Chinese, at least partially. Her dad could make a better moo goo gai pan at home. But unbeknownst to Zach (and Layla), this wasn't just a date. Magenta had also come to The Paper Lantern to enact her own plan.

A reconnaissance mission, of sorts.

Her main objective? Try to find out if Warren Peace seemed just as torn up about Layla as she was about him (which Magenta was already ninety-nine percent sure of). Second - and this would be contingent on the former being true - make sure he knew beyond all reasonable doubt that Layla was just as into him as he was into her.

It had been two days since they'd spoken on the phone, and Layla still hadn't heard from Warren - a fact that was weighing heavily on her friend's mind, if the barrage of sad text messages she was sending Magenta were any indication. It seemed that the two were at a stalemate caused entirely by their own misunderstandings, and Magenta would be damned if she didn't do something about it by the time school started back up. She did not want to watch her friend mope around because of some guy again.

And, as far as she was concerned, she wouldn't.

The thought had crossed her mind earlier, however, that maybe it wasn't her place to meddle further in their business. To be fair, it probably wasn't. But what harm could come out of dropping a few hints to Warren? Magenta liked to think of it as a gentle nudge in the right direction… Or, depending on his reaction, a strong push.

It was in his and Layla's best interests, after all.

As luck would have it, the guy in question was indeed working this evening, just as Layla said he would be. Magenta spotted him clearing a table on the other side of the dining room before making his way back into the kitchen, while her and Zach were seated by the hostess at a booth by the windows.

Observing him in an environment outside of school for the first time was admittedly a little jarring. It was like running into your teacher at the grocery store and realizing that they existed outside of the only context in which you knew them - something that seemed obvious, but still felt uncanny. Plus, Magenta had never seen him with his hair pulled back before, and it almost made him look like a completely different person.

So strange.

But she had to remind herself to push those weird feelings away, lest she made it seem like she was completely uninterested in Zach. Ulterior motive aside, she really was excited to be here with him. Over the last month or so, he'd somehow charmed her with his silly antics and the way he was always so unapologetically himself. He didn't seem to care if other people thought he could be a bit much at times, and she liked that about him. It reminded her of herself - although Zach was the golden retriever type, while she considered herself to be more like a black cat. Opposites attract, or so they said. Clearly it was true for Layla and Warren; why couldn't it also work for them?

When they arrived, Zach had accidentally smacked himself in the face with the door as he opened it to let her go inside first, nearly bumped into a waiter on the way to their table because he'd been too busy looking at her, and was now studying the list of appetizers with the intense focus of someone cramming for midterms.

He was nervous.

How stinkin' cute.

"Wanna share a plate of dumplings? You like dumplings, right?" he asked, his eyes flicking up to her timidly as she took a sip of the water the hostess had brought out to them. "Or is there something else you like more? We can get whatever you want. But they also have crab rangoons and I really like crab rangoons…"

Magenta bit her lip so as not to chuckle, "We can get the crab rangoons."

"Hell yeah!" Zach exclaimed with exuberance. Remembering suddenly that he was on a date and trying to impress the girl sitting across from him, he quickly composed himself and toned it down a few notches, "I mean, okay. Cool."

They placed their order with the waitress, and shortly after, Warren Peace made his second appearance of the evening. He hadn't noticed them yet - he was working his way across the restaurant, laying down new place settings at tables that he had already cleared and cleaned. But by the time their waitress brought out their steaming plate of crab rangoons, Warren began to walk toward the empty table directly next to them, making the mistake of locking eyes with Magenta right as he approached.

Out of all the restaurants in Maxville they could have gone to for dinner tonight, they'd landed on the one he worked at? He narrowed his gaze slightly as Magenta regarded him.

"Hey, Warren. Fancy seeing you here," she said, though the tone of her voice denoted absolutely no hint of surprise whatsoever.

Of course she wasn't actually surprised to see him, he thought. He suspected she'd come to The Paper Lantern for a reason - and he had an inkling of what it might be. He began to lay out four rolls of silverware on the table adjacent to theirs, returning her greeting in the form of a question, "What are you two doing here?"

Zach shoved an entire crab rangoon into his mouth and watched as Magenta cocked an eyebrow, "On a date, duh. Talk to Layla recently?"

She hadn't needed to ask. She already knew the answer. But she didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity to see how he would react to her bringing Layla up.

Warren stiffened, giving her an incredulous look before immediately breaking eye contact.

"What's it to you?"

Immediate defensiveness? Acting aloof and closed off? To the untrained eye, it seemed like it could just be Warren being Warren. But keeping in mind what had transpired this past weekend, Magenta knew otherwise.

He was definitely hung up on Layla.

She shrugged nonchalantly, "Just wondering. We didn't see you toward the end of homecoming and assumed you got tired and left. Figured if you would have said anything to anyone, it would have been her."

Warren turned his gaze to her once again, his expression blank but eyes dark. It was almost funny how, despite his best efforts, he was just as conspicuous when it came to his true feelings as Layla was.

"I don't need to report my whereabouts to Layla," he said with just a hint of bitterness. "She ran off with Will, anyway. Not like she'd care if I left or not."

That's where you're oh-so-very wrong, Magenta thought. Phase one of her plan had been far too easy.

"Got it," she said, giving him a last once-over before adding, "Sorry to bother you while you're working."

Without another word he walked away, back to the safety of the kitchen.

By the time Zach and Magenta finished their meals and requested the check, Warren had done his best to ignore them each of the dozen-or-so times he'd made the trip back out into the dining room to clear tables. However, he couldn't help himself but to glance over occasionally. Luckily enough for him, he never got caught in the act.

He knew that the two of them hadn't gone out of their way to have their first date at Maxville's most mediocre Chinese restaurant just because. And Magenta bringing up Layla hadn't been by happenstance, either - of that, he was one-hundred-percent certain.

He hadn't spoken to Layla since he sat with her on the bleachers at the homecoming dance. Despite how it made him feel like a total jackass, he was actively ignoring her. The text she'd sent him on Sunday morning still sat in his inbox, unanswered… Because truth be told, he didn't know what to say to her. Acting like he wasn't completely crushed by the outcome of her technically canceled, yet still apparently successful plan felt out of the question at the moment.

Hey, yeah, let's hang out. (Even though I'm so into you that it's actually fucking pathetic, but it doesn't matter at all because you're now actively dating the son of the guy who put my dad in jail.) Sure, we can still be friends. (What could possibly go wrong?)

He wasn't about to admit it to Magenta (and by proximity Zach as well), but he wanted to reach out to her. There was a Layla-shaped hole in his life and he longed for her to fill it again. He'd typed out and deleted a handful of messages to her every day since Sunday. Yet, he was too chickenshit to actually send any one of them, and consequentially have to hear about how happy she was now that she was with Stronghold.

He just didn't know if he'd be able to stomach it so soon. Replaying the ways Will had kissed her over and over again in his head still hurt.

It really shouldn't have surprised Warren that later in the evening, while Zach was occupied with paying the bill, Magenta could be heard calling out to him over the chatter of other restaurant-goers as he headed toward the back of house.

"Hey, hothead," she said, hurrying over to him just as he got to the archway that divided the restaurant. "Got a minute?"

Warren paused mid-stride and turned around begrudgingly to find her walking up behind him. He only stared back at her with quiet ambivalence as he adjusted the heavy bin of dirty dishes he'd been attempting to bring to the sink.

"Not really."

"Good," she remarked as she stopped in front of him, shoving her hands in the pockets of her purple hoodie as she disregarded his sarcastic answer with one of her own, "I didn't want to leave before telling you this."

Warren gave her a look that silently told her to get on with it.

She hesitated for a beat, almost as if she were having second thoughts about saying whatever it was she planned to say, before announcing, "Layla and Will aren't together."

He'd heard her say it, of course... But the statement wasn't quite registering. She had to be bullshitting him. Will had kissed Layla on Saturday night not just once, but twice. There was no way they weren't a couple now.

Except, that's exactly what the sidekick was inferring.

"Huh?" Warren asked, dumbfounded, feeling his heart leap into his throat. To his mortification, he realized he sounded just as dumb as Will had the night he told him about Layla's plan to make him jealous.

Magenta sighed in mild frustration, “Do you not speak English or something? Kéuih deih m̀h haih paak tō. They. Are. Not. Dating.”

He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of this information that clearly conflicted with what he thought he knew, “But I definitely saw them… Wait, how the hell do you know Cantonese?”

“I’m half Chinese, Captain Obvious,” she quipped, outwardly rolling her eyes yet surprised that he recognized the dialect. “If anything, I should be the one asking how you know Cantonese.”

Warren motioned vaguely at their surroundings, explaining, "Well, when you spend about twenty-five hours a week in a Chinese restaurant, you tend to pick up a little bit."

The girl raised a brow in intrigue.

“...Impressive. Anyways, my point is: Layla is not dating Will. Will is not dating Layla. They aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, and Layla isn't even remotely interested in that happening anymore," Magenta asserted in a cadence that was slow and deliberate. Warren only stared back at her, unblinking. "Do whatever you need to do with that information.”

Satisfied with the completion of her mission, she spun on her heels to leave, spotting Zach waiting for her by the door. But Warren's voice, sounding more curious than crass this time, stopped her before she could take even a couple of steps away.

“…And you think I needed to know that, why?”

Magenta paused, then turned back around to face him, eyeing him inscrutably.

“Look. Don’t act like it isn’t totally obvious that you’re in love with Layla," she said, her eyes seeming to pierce right through him. "We all saw you two slow dancing at homecoming. It's really not hard to put two and two together."

Warren felt his face begin to flush, betraying him. He overcompensated by hardening his expression and tightening his grip on the bin of dishes he still held. Trying to downplay his feelings for Layla to Magenta would be a futile endeavor - she had figured out the truth already; what use was there in lying now?

Sensing that she had the upper hand, Magenta added, "Besides, I can tell you for certain that whatever mushy feelings you have for her, she has them for you, too."

Warren wanted badly to believe her. But how could he just outright dismiss what he saw happen with his own eyes on Saturday night? He scoffed, shaking his head in denial, “Yeah. Doubt it.”

Magenta crossed her arms over her chest, challenging him with a smirk.

“Trust me, pyro boy, she likes you likes you. You need to tell her how you feel so you two can date for real this time and live happily ever after,” she said, immediately scrunching up her nose in disgust at her mention of cutesy fairy-tale romance. Shaking her head, she added, “Ew, I just grossed myself out. Never speak of this conversation again.”

Without waiting for a response this time, Magenta turned and walked away to meet Zach at the door, leaving Warren standing alone and bewildered. Trancedly, he found his way to the sink in the back corner of the kitchen, his thoughts jumbling together as he washed each piece of dinnerware.

Layla wasn't with Will… Layla didn't want to be with Will… Layla was actually into him? It sounded like wishful thinking. But why would the sidekick lie to him about it? Warren couldn't come up with a viable answer.

All he knew was that he wanted to hear it from Layla herself.

He set the last plate on the rack next to the sink, drying his hands off before reaching in his pocket for his cell phone. Technically, employees weren't allowed to use their phones on the clock - but that didn't stop him from opening up Layla's last message to him for what was sure to be the hundredth time since he'd received it. His thumb hovered over the keypad, wracking his brain once again to figure out what he should say.

Asking Layla outright if she was dating Will or not seemed too brash, too forward. He'd been avoiding her for two days, after all, and besides - how the hell would he reply to her answer either way?

Warren quickly typed out the first lame but plausible excuse he could think of, sending it before he could change his mind.

Outgoing Text: Sorry. Last few days have been a lot.
Outgoing Text: Busy on Friday?

He flipped his phone shut, anticipating that it might be some time before he heard back from Layla. It would only be fair, considering how long he'd been radio silent. But just as he was about to return it to his pocket, it buzzed to alert him to an incoming message.

The speed at which she had responded made him feel even worse for ignoring her.

Layla Williams: It's ok! No, not busy. Y?

His heart sputtered as he read her text, something like hope igniting within him as he typed out one simple word.

Outgoing Text: Library…?

Warren was unaware that he'd been holding his breath as he waited for her answer until her reply appeared a few seconds later.

Layla Williams: Yes!! Of course :)

He gave one long exhale and relaxed his shoulders, staring down at the screen until a voice behind him made him snap his phone shut in surprise.

"Talking to your girlfriend?" Mrs. Wong asked, having managed to sneak up on him silently.

Warren sighed, shoving his cell phone into the pocket of his jeans. Must she be so invested in his personal life?

"I told you already, she's not my girlfriend," he insisted in a voice thick with regret, once again turning his attention toward his dish-washing duties now that he knew he was being watched.

"Hmph. Not yet," Mrs. Wong said, sliding in next to him to help stack up the dry plates. "What is holding you back?"

Warren scrubbed vigorously at a bowl littered with the sticky residue of white rice as he considered her question. After giving it one last rinse and placing it in an open spot on the drying rack, he paused, gripping the edge of the stainless steel sink as if it were the only thing holding him upright.

"How do you…" he started, incredulous at the fact that he was asking his boss for relationship advice. Realistically, it was either her, or his mom. He balked at the thought of it - did he really have no one else to go to? Apparently not. Swallowing his pride, he continued quietly, "How do you tell a girl you're in love with her without messing it up? I already blew it once."

Mrs. Wong only shrugged, answering as she placed her stack of plates in their spot on the shelf before tottering off to a different part of the kitchen, "I don't know, you just tell her. Don't think too hard. Get her flowers or something."

Warren turned to watch her as she walked away, slightly annoyed at her flippancy. How could one woman be so nosy, yet so unhelpful?

But then the thought struck him…

Of course.

Flowers.

There was a better way to profess his feelings for Layla than just trying to come up with the right words. And what he needed to do so was already at home, sitting unassumingly on his desk next to last week's homework that he still hadn't bothered to finish.

Perhaps, he thought decisively, he needed to use the language of flowers.

Chapter Text

Friday, October 21st, 2005 - 11:46am

Other than when it came to his job, punctuality wasn't something that Warren felt particularly concerned about. The amount of times so far this school year he'd sauntered into class at the last possible moment, barely making it on time after walking Layla to one of her own, was evidence enough of that. But today, he found himself arriving at the library almost a full fifteen minutes before he'd agreed to meet her there. He simply couldn't take another moment sitting at home, avoiding his mother's prying eyes and ruminating yet again over exactly how to tell Layla the one thing that he had been unable to say to her last weekend.

The short trip through the charming neighborhood bordering the outskirts of the city wasn't nearly enough time to quell the adrenaline that seemed to hum relentlessly through him. It wasn't unlike the buzz of anxiety he experienced at homecoming as he'd initially approached Layla and asked her to dance - an emotion he still felt ill-equipped to deal with, considering he'd gone most of his life forcing himself into a state of apathy (that is, when he wasn't somewhere on the spectrum between angry or annoyed). The old Warren Peace would have scoffed at the possibility that he could ever be this nervous over a girl…

Except he - regardless of whether or not he liked to admit it - had changed, and Layla wasn't just some girl. She was the only person he'd ever felt safe enough to be vulnerable around; the only person besides his mother, of course, who he cared about more than himself.

Still, a part of him missed the days when he didn't give a shit about anything. Because caring, he had come to find out over the course of the past month-or-so, was scary.

It meant that he had something to lose.

Warren's thoughts wandered to the modest bouquet of flowers concealed in the bag strung over his shoulder, stowed carefully along with the book that had unwittingly proven to be the answer to his questions. On Wednesday, he spent his afternoon off from work and school pouring over the pages of The Language of Flowers, writing down the names of any varieties that would be of use to him so he could take his list to the florist he found on Thursday morning. The old man behind the counter there had given him a look of bemusement at his highly specific requests, suggesting to add and replace some types of flowers to make the bouquet more "seasonally appropriate" and "visually appealing." But Warren didn't care about any of that - the only thing that mattered about the flowers was the meaning behind them.

And after his previous failed attempts, he didn't want to risk getting anything lost in translation.

Warren strode slowly up to the familiar brick building, pausing just for a moment at the bottom of the steps to decide whether he should wait for Layla out here, or inside. A burst of cold fall wind sent a handful of downed leaves scattering around his feet - October was nearing it's end and would soon give way to November, then the beginning of winter, his least favorite season. The choice was easy. He advanced up the steps and through the heavy doors, resolving to send Layla a text to let her know he was already here.

The library really was the perfect place to do this. Despite walking in alone, Warren still felt a sense of déjà vu as he remembered the first time they'd come here to pick out books for each other after he'd finished her copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Perhaps, he thought with a smirk, he was a Mr. Darcy after all. He attempted to fight back a quiet chuckle as he approached the circulation desk, thinking about how he had initially disparaged the guy. It was only now that he realized he could have been talking about himself at the same time: arrogant, unapproachable, acting like he wasn't even interested in Elizabeth Layla when in actuality, he'd been trying to stifle his feelings for her far longer than he was willing to admit.

"Something funny, Darren?" a woman's voice wondered aloud as he opened his bag to retrieve and return The Language of Flowers.

Judy moseyed over to the desk from somewhere behind him, pushing a cart with an annoying, squeaky wheel around to the other side.

…Were there any other librarians that worked here, or was Warren just unlucky enough to always come in when she was on the clock?

"Uh… No," he replied simply, not really knowing how else to answer as he placed his borrowed book on top of the small pile that had probably accumulated since Judy last left the desk. He made to leave and find an empty section to hide in until Layla arrived, but decided on a whim to finally set the record straight with her once and for all. She didn't have to like him, but she could at least call him by the correct name. Lingering for just a moment longer, he cleared his throat and said, "Actually, it's Warren."

"Huh?" she asked, taking the book he'd just returned from the pile and scanning it back into the system.

"My name is Warren."

Judy glanced briefly up at him through the wire frames of her glasses, then back down at her computer. Wordlessly, she click, click, click-ed around until Warren could barely make out, in tiny text on the screen, his name and library card number right above Layla's in the checkout history for The Language of Flowers.

"Ah, I see… Warren Peace. Hah, like War and Peace," Judy remarked, smiling wryly. For the first time, her face softened as she regarded him. "Your parents must have a great sense of humor."

Warren blinked, confused, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's a novel by Leo Tolstoy, dear," she explained in a tone of voice that sounded oddly like the one his mother used, getting to work scanning the rest of the pile in and placing the books on her cart to be returned to their designated spots on the shelves.

Then, it finally dawned on him: Tolstoy, as in, the same Tolstoy that wrote Anna Karenina. There certainly weren't many others. He wondered if Layla had ever made the connection to this other novel of his when she picked it out for him to read.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Judy continued softly, "If you're looking for Layla, she's in the gardening section. Straight back and to the left."

Huh. Despite his prudence in getting here early, Layla had still somehow managed to beat him to it. Maybe she was feeling just as restless as he was.

And maybe, Judy the judgey librarian wasn't really so bitter, after all.

"…Thanks," Warren said, nodding in a newfound appreciation for her as he left the woman to her duties.

The rows of books seemed to stretch on forever as he traversed the stacks, heading in the direction he'd been instructed. Few, if any people seemed to be in this part of the library, which was a relief - curious onlookers were the last thing Warren wanted right now. The old, cynical part of him couldn't help but feel like each footstep was bringing him closer to the end of something.

But the new Warren - the parts of himself that only Layla had been able to help him find, the parts that believed in hope and that good things could actually happen to him - felt almost like he was hurtling toward a beginning.

It was possible that two things could be true at once.

He reached into his bag once more and carefully pulled out the bouquet that he had picked out for her, slowing his pace as he neared the shelves that bore signs denoting the gardening section. There were only two rows that shared this designation, and as he peered down the first of them, he was surprised to find it empty. Taking a deep breath, he proceeded to the next one, rounding the corner and pausing for a brief moment as he finally spotted Layla at the opposite end.

How could he even begin to come up with something to say to her, when he felt just as tongue-tied looking at her now as he had been when he first saw her at homecoming? Even in something as simple as the green sweater and brown corduroy skirt she was wearing today (paired with some tall boots, mismatched jewelry, and the chunkiest belt he'd ever seen, mind you), she was nothing short of beautiful. She was studying the line of books in front of her so intently that Warren almost didn't want to disturb her.

Somehow, though, Layla knew exactly who was approaching her without looking away from the shelf.

"You're here early," she observed candidly, feeling too nervous to take her eyes off of the titles she was currently searching through.

Of course, she was early, too. The anticipation of seeing Warren again after everything that had happened at homecoming was enough to get her out of the house and to the library well before the time they planned to meet. She'd even done herself up with sparkly green eye shadow and her favorite peach-colored lip gloss in much the same way she had for Will back when he made plans to meet her at The Paper Lantern, only for him to never come.

Warren, on the other hand, always kept his promises.

He always showed up for her.

"Yeah," he replied, deciding not to point out the obvious. He was quiet for a moment, then remarked in as lighthearted of a voice he could muster, "You know, as much as I like our little book swap thing, I really hope you're not planning to give me one about gardening."

Layla couldn't help but allow herself to laugh, thankful for Warren's attempt at breaking the ice. At least she knew now that on some level, he still wanted her around. She felt her shoulders begin to relax as she reached for the copy of the book she had been searching for.

"What?" she asked, feigning offense as she pulled it from the shelf and flipped it around to read the blurb on the back, "You mean to tell me that you don't want to learn all of the best tips and tricks for hydroponic growing?"

Warren chuckled, "Not really my thing, hippie."

Oh, she was so relieved to be back to their usual playful banter. However, what he said next sounded less joking and more earnest.

He sighed a bit - not out of resignation, but something else - and admitted in a low voice, "…But it's your thing, so I'd do it. If that would make you happy."

This statement of his, and the way he said it, made Layla pause. She lowered the book in her hand, finally turning to face him for the first time since homecoming. He was the same old Warren - long dark hair with his signature streak of red, worn leather jacket, stoic expression. But there was a certain warmth and tenderness in his eyes that she swore she'd seen on a few occasions in recent weeks, and it made her heart begin to flutter like the delicate yet strong wings of a hummingbird. Her gaze then drifted down to the neatly wrapped array of flowers he was holding. She stared at them in stunned silence, brows furrowed, only beginning to wrap her head around what was happening.

"Are those… For me?"

She placed her book clumsily back on the shelf, somewhere, anywhere, not caring at all if it was in its proper location before taking a few timid steps in his direction.

Warren nodded silently, holding the bouquet out to her like a metaphorical olive branch - however, it meant so much more than that. Layla took it gingerly, turning the blooms around in her hands and tracing the petals with her fingertips as if they were breakable, made from fragile glass. They immediately responded to her touch and began to open up fully, magically unfurling themselves right before their eyes.

The flowers themselves were gorgeous, but the arrangement was one of the strangest that she had ever seen: a fiery red combination of roses, tulips, and chrysanthemums. It wasn’t something that she would ever choose to put together herself, however the color seemed oddly appropriate coming from Warren. As she inspected it closely, though, the realization clicked into place.

This wasn't just a nice gesture. This was a message.

A barely audible gasp made its way past Layla's lips as she looked back up at him in astonishment, whispering in near disbelief, "The language of flowers?"

In all honesty, this was not how Warren initially imagined telling Layla that he'd fallen for her. Nevertheless, it felt right - this timing, this place, this moment. Still, the sound of blood rushing past his ears and his heart thundering in his chest made him recognize the gravity of what he was doing.

He could only look at her, his unwavering gaze serving as a silent affirmation.

She regarded him thoughtfully, searching his eyes to figure out whether or not what she was inferring was the truth. Then, she once again studied the flowers in her hands, whose meanings Warren had undoubtedly researched in the book she herself had checked out not too long ago. They all told her the same thing:

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Layla drew in a deep, solemn breath and said, "Warren, I need you to know… I'm not in love with Will. Not anymore."

She met his expectant stare, her wide doe eyes seeming to burn into his own. His breath hitched in the back of his throat, waiting for her to continue, to say the one thing he wanted to hear the most.

"And, while I was falling out of love with him…" Layla let the corners of her mouth lift upward ever so slightly as she declared, "I kind of fell in love with you."

Her cheeks reddened to a color only a few shades lighter than the bouquet she was holding, making Warren's expression soften as he gazed down at her with fervent adoration. He didn't bother to fight the grin that had started to overtake his features - a smile that, for once in his life, felt genuine and real.

The words he had been wanting to say for weeks then tumbled out so easily that he wondered how he'd been practically unable to say them before, "Good. Because I'm kind of in love with you, too, hippie."

He reached out for one of her hands and pulled her gently toward him, closing what little distance remained between them. The same overwhelming desire to kiss her that he'd felt at homecoming now returned in full force, seeming to consume his every thought like an uncontrollable wildfire sweeping through a forest.

This time, though, he didn't hesitate.

Layla's heart raced as Warren's free hand found its way to her waist, and before she had time to even think about what was happening, he was leaning down and pressing his mouth to hers with the kind of ardor that told her he'd been anticipating this for a while. But unlike with either of Will's kisses, she had absolutely no desire to pull away.

Surrendering herself to his touch, she let her eyes fall closed while she slipped her arms around his shoulders, giving a content sigh as she felt Warren's fingers intertwine with her hair. His lips were soft against her own, moving slowly and deliberately like he was trying to relish every second, like he thought he would never have the opportunity to kiss her again… As if he wanted to live in this moment for as long as he possibly could.

Layla knew that she did.

She would have been content to stand there kissing him in their quiet little corner of the library until the building closed, if not for the sharp squeak of metal-on-metal and the tisk-ing sound of someone who clearly did not condone their behavior making her practically jump out of her skin. Layla's eyes flew open as Warren unwillingly pulled away from her, spinning around abruptly to see who had interrupted them.

Judy stood behind her cart at the far end of the row, shaking her head in mild disapproval as she placed a book back in it's home on the shelf. She gave the two a tired but knowing glance before ambling away to another section of the library, thankfully choosing not to reprimand them further.

Warren turned to Layla, half-expecting to find her embarrassed, shrinking away, ashamed to have been caught practically making out with someone like him. Instead, there was an almost mischievous glint in her eyes as she beamed up at him, laughing lightly at the absurdity of the situation. Clearly, it hadn't bothered her in the slightest.

He grinned once more as she tilted her head up, leaning forward to capture his lips zealously in another kiss. Her enthusiasm sent a sudden surge of warmth through his body, like sparks igniting a flame somewhere deep inside of him. It felt almost unreal - against all odds, the girl he loved actually loved him back. He wrapped his arms around her again and she responded in kind, never once letting go of the flowers that had spelled out his feelings for her.

This, Warren thought to himself as he pulled Layla in even closer, drinking in the scent of her perfume and the feeling of her lips on his, hadn't even been a passing thought that night he'd first sat down across from her at The Paper Lantern. It was a kind of happiness he assumed would never be available to him, something he never thought he deserved…

…But now, it was definitely something that he could get used to.