Westerburg | Heathers AU |

Chapter 6

Heather and I went from class to class. I underestimated how much her presence would affect me. I struggled to focus in class, the insanity consuming my life making concentration nearly impossible. Heather didn't make it easier. She would talk to me endlessly, judging other kids as I attempted to work. Inevitably, I would respond to her and end up looking crazy to everyone else. Eventually, the fourth period rolled around, and I finally had the chance to speak to Izaya.

I entered the class a bit nervous. What would I say? Even if I did say something, would he respond? Or would he act like nothing had happened again? I spotted him in his seat, pulling his binder out for class. Taking my seat next to him, I noticed how he immediately stopped going through his bag but didn't look at me. The room filled with a heavy melancholy before I spoke.

"What did you tell her?" I asked quietly.

"Once you walked away, some of her friends came up to tell her something important... They walked away and she said we'd talk about the flashlight at lunch." Izaya's voice was flat, devoid of emotion, just filled with sorrow.

"What are you gonna tell her?" Izaya sat silently for a few moments, then put his hands over his face.

"I- I don't know," he admitted, his tone hopeless.

"Tell her it was yours... just tell her you left it there, easy as that," I suggested. Izaya dropped his hands but still looked at me, uncertain in his eyes.

"That could work," he said slowly.

"Yeah, bro, just tell her you got scared and dropped it or something like that." Izaya nodded his head in compliance, his demeanor changing slightly as he now had a functional excuse. I didn't push further; I just patted him on the back, and then we continued with class.

Heather's face contorted in confusion. "So, are you just not gonna question him?" she asked sarcastically.

I looked over at her before scribbling on a piece of paper, "He doesn't want to talk," I wrote quickly.

"I don't care what he wants. Get some answers out of him," Heather said, annoyed. I raised my hand to ask to go to the bathroom, and the teacher allowed it. Once I was in the hall with Heather, I spoke. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"There is probably a damn good reason he doesn't want to talk about it," I said defensively. Heather cut me off.

"Fuck that, Al. He came there at night with a crowbar. What exactly do you think he was planning to do? Because to me, it looked like he was going there to kill."

"Come on, Heather, he wouldn't—" Heather cut me off once more.

"Al, he's clearly working with Veronica. If she isn't above murder, then I doubt her boyfriend would be either." Heather was making sense, but deep down, I knew I had to help my friend.

"The fact is he didn't try to kill me, and now he's sticking his neck out to stop Veronica from knowing I was there. He's trying to help me, and if talking about what's going down puts him in danger, then I don't want him to say anything, end of the story."

Heather clenched her fist before she spoke, her voice trembling with frustration. "You're being naive, Al. You can't trust him. He's involved, and we need answers. If you keep protecting him, you're putting yourself at risk. Think about what's at stake here. We need to get to the bottom of this, and we can't do that if you're too afraid to push him for the truth."

I looked at her, seeing the intensity in her eyes, and realized the gravity of the situation. She was right. I couldn't let my loyalty to Izaya cloud my judgment. But at the same time, I couldn't abandon him completely.