glass houses || g & m & n || clue

After class you go through the motions; walk Cleo to practice and make sure the team can see it when you kiss her cheek goodbye, wander back to your locker and let all the little wannabes that follow you drone on about their summers while you pretend to listen. There's about half a dozen of them that come and go as you make your way back to the main building, all trying to get the smallest sliver of your attention.

'How was your summer, Grady?' One of the younger girls in your program asks, 'I spent a month at my uncle's winery!' Says another one, steamrolling over the first. "He said I could bring a friend next year if you wanna come too!'

Most of the time you just ignore them. Controlling the masses is Cleo's thing, and you're more than happy to let her do it. You don't like the way they all look at you anyways, like you're one word away from becoming their best friend. It's a little too familiar for comfort.

Sometimes they can take the hint. Sometimes they can't. You reach your locker and they're both still bickering about something stupid that you haven't even bothered to keep listening to. Ever since you got involved with one half of the Burns sisters you've gotten used to having a constant shadow.

So you ignore them and open your locker, ready to shove your books inside and spend a few hours in the studio when something flutters out. You take a step back and stare at the floor, or more accurately, at the little pale green piece of stationary that lies there and makes your heart leap up into your throat. Because you've been waiting for it, of course you have, the tiniest little threat slipped into your locker from her that says I know.

Because she does, Naomi, that is. It can't be anyone else. You and Maverick and Naomi - that's where it all started.

You three were inseparable weren't you? And then you went and fucked it up, because it's what you were best at back then. And then they left you and now you're here, all alone and a little empty, but still stronger for it.

You look out at your kingdom, at this stupid little school that you've invested everything into and think that maybe you should be thanking them for it.

Except, Naomi, god, you told her everything. You can't remember when you started keeping so many secrets, but you have a sinking feeling that she still remembers them all. She could rip all this out from under you if she wanted.

You still pick up the paper and you gently unfold it and read 'Grady!' You immediately grimace. 'My mom gave me something for you - meet me in the music room after class, I'll give it to you then!'

You falter then, because it could still be a threat. Or some kind of trap. Naomi probably has enough dirt on you to last a lifetime, but you know that you have the same. Of course, there's the smallest part of you, something naive, that thinks, or hopes maybe, that the words scribbled on this innocent little scrap are real. Because it's not like Mrs. Valero ever did anything to you. Sure she liked you well enough, you were a finely behaved child, and whatever faults you had were made up for by your parents' money.

Either way, you think it's worth it to find out what Naomi wants. You've worked to hard to let her ruin what you have.

You slam your locker door closed again and when the girls beside you squeak you suddenly remember they're still there. You walk away anyways.

'Grady!' They call after you, 'Hey! See you tomorrow?'

But you're already turning the corner.

The music room is a foreign place, but you still know where it is. You have a one track mind as you try not to storm over, steadying your breathing before you start to panic and show weakness. Because you're surrounded by sharks here, and they'll jump on it like blood in the water.

This is just to find you what she knows, you tell yourself, because between Mav and Scarlet and Benji there's a whole mess of things that could get you into trouble now.

"Naomi." You say stiffly when you finally see her,. She looks the same as she did last year, she looks the same as she did when you were kids and it feels somehow biting that's she's been able to get  away without changing, without sacrificing, like you have. "I got your note."

And you you decide to cut to the chase and ignore whatever kind of farce this is. You don't mince your words because you've never had a reason to. She knows that better than almost anyone. "What do you want?"

You stumble backwards when Maverick approaches, letting your body move through the motion and recoiling almost immediately. His hands leave imprints on your chest, and you can feel the way every individual fingerprint burns through your shirt. But you think that it's the thought that hurts more than the action, and you try to hide the surprise on your face that he actually put his hands on you.

Your shoulders ache with the memory of play-tussling in the street, the time he tried to teach you to punch and you were so bad at it that the image of you flailing your fist around made the three of you laugh for weeks after.

It was easier to laugh at yourself back then.

But he's so close to you now that you couldn't crack a smile even if you wanted to. You feel the sudden urge to close your eyes instead, a familiar little trickle of weakness travelling down your spine. You know he could put you on the ground before you even had a chance to take a breath. You don't know him well enough anymore to tell if he actually would.

"Don't touch me." You still spit at him, taking a step forward before you can think better of it. You think it would be justified if he were to pummel you right now, because it would finally give you a reason to really hate him. It would finally give you an easy excuse.

Naomi's the one that finally gives you an ultimatum, and you can't exactly say you're surprised. I'll forget everything, Naomi pipes up and says, like it's that simple. But you know it could never be that easy. It never is.

You scoff at her, "I know you, Naomi. You act like you're this innocent little nobody, the shoulder everyone comes to cry to, but I know you."

She won't forget. One wrong step from you and she'll spread your secrets through the school like wildfire. You know that fact just as well as you know her own secret - the person she really is, deep deep down. All three of you have masks that you cling to. Maybe that's just a coincidence. Or maybe you each taught each other how to keep them in place, together against the odds, growing up in an environment that pitted you against one another.

It's almost suffocating in the room now, especially with the way they're both looking at you. You think that's what stings - they're ganging up you now, teaming up in a way that makes your blood boil and your heart sink.

Or whatever's left of it.

You think that if you glance at Maverick for too long your eyes will get stuck there and you'll never want to look away again. So you ignore his presence on purpose, talking to Naomi instead, or at her maybe, because that pretty little lie that you have built up in your head, it's been festering and filling in the empty spaces of your memories. You didn't do shit to Mav. To either of them. None of this is your fault.

You blame him instead, fuck, you know you do. You blame him for standing in front of you and simply being himself just like you blame him for the way you keep reliving that same summer over and over again, stuck in an endless loop of falling for him slowly and then all at once in a way that terrified you.

"Why should I apologize to him?" You ask Naomi stonily over his shoulder, rooted in place by his proximity, "I don't owe him anything."

If he knew-

he'd hate you even more.

You've been deflecting for so long - trying to ignore all the mistakes you've made and all the people you've hurt that there's a horrible kind of blaming that comes easy to you now. It's why you don't care about Prom King like Cleo does. You don't have time for popularity contests or candied words. You know who you are now, and who you are is above who you were.

Sometimes it's everyone else that needs a reminder of that, because if this was five years ago, three years ago even, you would've bowed your head and backed away and gone to lick your wounds. But you're different now, you've changed.

You all have.

You can't hold your tongue as well as you used to, and maybe that will be your downfall here, just like it was with Cleo and the little charade you two put on. But you're so blinded by a false sense of injustice, and all the old scars and unsaid confessions, that you're opening your mouth again before you even realize it.

"You know what, Maverick", And you spit his full name out, unfamiliar syllables and all, "I am sorry. I'm so sorry that you never pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to realize what was going on. I'm sorry that you think hating everyone changes the fact that you are still nothing.

Something feels like it's splintering in your ribcage, like you're in physical pain even though he isn't touching you anymore. You forget that Naomi is standing there behind him for a moment, because all you can see is the dark of his eyes and your own anger and all the fear that's been pent up for god knows how long. You make eye contact with her before you turn back to Mav, realizing that whatever happens in this room will be unchangeable.

"But most of all? You get in his face and feel dizzy, all the blood rushing to your head at once because you've never, ever, lost control like this at Salvatore. "I'm sorry that you never climbed out of the hole your father dug you into."