Kings of Hawkings [bxb]

Chapter 9

As Hugh and Jonas walked to school, they strolled side by side, their tall figures naturally commanding attention amid the throng of students. The air was electric with excited whispers about the Wolf's latest post, each word adding a new layer of intrigue. Several students eagerly attempted to draw the pair into their theories and speculations. Despite the buzz, Hugh and Jonas remained absorbed in their own conversation, seemingly unaware of the intrigue they were sparking among their peers.

Suddenly, the screech of tires cut through the air, followed by the roar of a souped-up engine and a booming sound system. Jonas' ears perked up at the unmistakable signs of someone with money approaching.

Noticing Jonas' reaction, Hugh glanced back. "Damn, St. Vincent's assholes are coming."

"Convertible?" Jonas asked.

"Top down," Hugh confirmed with a nod.

Jonas leaned toward a guy in front of him, catching his attention with a casual tone. "I'll pay you back." With a quick motion, he grabbed the guy's coffee, deftly loosening the lid just enough to ensure it would spill.

The car's occupants began shouting from the convertible.

"Look at the Hawking juvies! Go back to jail!"

"Fucking scum!"

"You twats!"

"Go back to the zoo!"

The Hawkings boys retaliated with shouts and middle fingers. Jonas cast a glance at Hugh, who was watching with an amused smirk. Jonas then casually tossed the coffee cup toward the approaching convertible, making sure it landed right in the front seat. The hot liquid splashed across the interior, eliciting a loud, outraged shout from the car's occupants.

"What the fuck?!" The driver swerved and pulled over abruptly. "Who did that? Who's going to pay for this?"

The driver and his friend leaped out of the car, but their bravado crumbled as they locked eyes on the familiar silver hair in the crowd. Their cocky demeanor faltered, replaced by visible discomfort. "Fucking Mad Dog," the driver spat, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and apprehension.

Hugh laughed. "Pay for your car? Pretty sure Daddy's covering that, pretty boy."

Jonas assessed the St. Vincent's boys, relieved that they didn't seem to recognize him. He stepped forward with Hugh and Millan, their jacket emblems clearly visible.

"Shit! Three Kings!" one of the boys shouted in alarm. They scrambled back into their car and peeled out in a hurry.

As the tension dissolved, a wave of laughter and cheers erupted from the crowd of Hawkings students. Enthusiastic thumbs-ups and various shouts of approval filled the air.

Hugh hopped onto Jonas' back with a grin. "Amazing, sweetheart!"

Though Jonas was slightly apprehensive about any potential repercussions from his actions, he couldn't ignore the rush of satisfaction he felt from the enthusiastic reactions around him. The warmth of Hugh's body pressed against him only added to his sense of contentment, amplifying the pleasure of the moment.

Hugh leaned in so his breath tickled Jonas' ear. "Do you think they recognized you?"

"No, they seemed a bit younger," Jonas replied, his voice steady. "And I look different now."

Hugh chuckled softly. "You're right. I wouldn't have recognized you from that old picture in our room." He leaned in closer, a teasing edge to his voice. "Am I heavy?"

Jonas snorted. "You're heavier than Travis."

"Anyone would be heavier than Travis," Hugh pouted.

Towering over many of the other students, they created a private bubble of conversation that felt almost exclusive to them. Hugh noticed the subtle shifts in Jonas' expression—a slight curl of his lip, the gentle crinkle around his eyes, and the faint hint of a dimple when he laughed. Hugh found himself wanting to savor these fleeting moments, each reaction a small treasure.