Chapter 5

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AN: hellooo, loves!! please don't be ghost readers <33

Shade didn't show up to school for a whole week.

And Art would be lying if they said they didn't worry for him.

But, hell, they were still hurt. They had other things to worry about. They had their life, their moms that drove them mad, and their peace to maintain. So. Boohoo, Shade Flaurante.

Keep fucking crying.

Chase wouldn't answer any of their questions, anyway. He didn't even talk about Shade at all. The next day he talked to Art like nothing happened—like he didn't witness the most intense argument of Art's lifetime.

But he was... well, Chase. He didn't make them feel awkward or bad. He just... compartmentalized it for another time.

Shit, even when Chase was the only witness to their fight—and Art didn't doubt his loyalty to secrecy—word traveled far, fast, and wide in this fucking school. Art found themself the talk of the campus for the second time in two years.

And that was something that didn't delight them in the fucking slightest.

To be fair, this school was nicer. They left out the cyber-bullying and the death threats. Instead, it was like everyone in this stupid pink school was planning to take criminology or forensics with how deep they dug into things. And Art was scared that the further they dug, the more information they found, then the closer they were to finding Art's, er, old school scandal.

Ate Kay pulled them aside on Monday after training.

"Art, totoo ba? Nagsagutan kayo ni Shade?" (("Art, is it true? Did you get into an argument with Shade?")) She looked at Art like they were insane, as if they put their neck into the jaws of a panther.

"Yes," Art said smoothly. "Why?"

They were still heaving from learning the new choreography, and still angry that Coach Luis didn't listen to any of their fucking suggestions. Kuya Caloy gasped, siding next to Ate Kay.

"Wehhh?" (("Reallyyyy?")) he breathed. He pushed his hair back, readjusted his yellow headband. "Tangina, I thought that was a joke."

Art shrugged. They chugged down water and wiped away the drops that dribbled down their chin. "Why?"

"Ewan," (("I don't know,")) Ate Kay said, scrutinizing them. "Aren't you scared of him?"

"Scared of him?" Art repeated. "Shit, why? He's just a big fucking bully."

"He's... scary," Kuya Caloy whispered like he was sharing a big, dramatic conspiracy. Art scrunched their nose. "Uy, kahit senior na ako—I've never seen anyone like Shade Flaurante." (("Hey, I'm a senior—but I've never seen anyone like Shade Flaurante."))

"He's boring."

"He's scary," Kuya Caloy repeated, overdramatizing a shudder. "Take care, Art."

Ate Kay nodded. She held Art firmly by the shoulders. "Hey, listen to me, Shade Flaurante isn't someone you want to mess with, okay?" She shook her head. "Just be careful."

Art rolled their eyes. They put their hand atop Ate Kay's, patting her wrist. "I'm not one to be messed with."

At least, you know, Art was now treated as a certified fucking bad bitch—which they were, down to the very fucking bone. Whispers and mutters trailed them again but this time—Art didn't shy away from them. Yes, they were the new student who had pink hair for the first two weeks of school. Yes, they made Shade Flaurante angry.

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