and suddenly everything changed

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟾

I'm going to the pizza place Deuce works at. Mom's gonna pick us up around seven. If anything happens do NOT let anyone see you. I'm serious. -j

Holt hums thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes at the text as he struggles to put the pieces together. Maybe there was music playing and he just didn't notice. Maybe... it just happened to conveniently stop as soon as Deuce pointed out his lack of headphones.

He nods to himself, though there's something nagging at him; insisting that at least something about whatever the hell it was that happened yesterday did not make sense.

Holt winces slightly, drifting his gaze from the screen as he raises a hand to his temple.

Maybe he's thinking too hard.

He stares down at his phone one last time before beginning to shove it into his pocket—but then he pauses again.

Maybe he should say something. He hasn't left a single message in the last two days—especially after the crap Jackson pulled yesterday morning.

Holt furrows his brows at the thought.

What's his damn problem? I didn't even really DO anything—Deuce put HIS hands on me FIRST anyways!

Holt squeezes his phone in his hand, shaking his head quietly as he recounts the events from the other morning—but then he pauses again.

What if he's rationalizing this way out of proportion? What if he really did... hurt Deuce... or freak him out? And what if he didn't even think to consider such a thing because he really is just like... grandpa?

Holt tenses at the thought, his tight grip on the phone beginning to waver as his heart slowly begins to quicken in pace.

Maybe Jackson's right. Maybe I AM dange—

"Oh my god!" A familiar voice shouts from behind, followed by rapidly approaching footsteps.

Before Holt can even think to look back, a mint-green hand grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around to face her.

"Frankie?" He blurts, sounding almost out of breath as his heart only continues to hammer in his chest, "What's goin—"

"Are you okay?" Frankie exclaims, hardly allowing time for Holt to respond before she literally grabs his face, pulling him closer as she inspects him closely.

"I, uh—woah!" Holt stammers, stumbling forward as he struggles to not fall right on top of Frankie as she pulls him close, "um, yeah?" He manages to breathe out with a sheepish smile, his gaze darting in all directions as he struggles to keep from staring directly into her mismatched eyes.

"Are you sure?" She blurts, the concern in her expression yet to waver as she turns his head to the side, and then to the other side.

"I think so?" Holt answers with an arched brow as he struggles to pinpoint what exactly it is that has Frankie so frazzled over his well-being. However, a small part of him doesn't really care what exactly it is because it's actually kind of nice knowing that she cares this much about him. He may even smile a little at the thought—at least until Frankie turns his head to face him again, leaving him with no other option but to lock eyes with the ghoul.

"Is your nose okay? Does it hurt at all? Has it bled any more since lunch yesterday?" Frankie sputters, still somehow refusing to release the boy from her grasp—though he doesn't appear to be recoiling much.

That is until he starts to put the pieces together and his rather surprised expression goes sour as he frowns in distaste at the horrifically embarrassing memory playing in his head.