What started with a random number (BXB) (GAY)

Tattletale

When the bell finally rang, Emory was ecstatic to be able to leave the school. He wasn't fond of having to drive with Red to and from, but there wasn't much he could do about it. 

Upon getting in the car, he asked, "Can you just drop me off at a friend's house?"

Obviously, instead of simply complying without any further questions, Red needed all the details. The 'who', 'why', everything. 

"It's just a friend, all right? Not a big deal." Emory responded to the interrogation, rolling his eyes as he leaned his head back against the seat. 

"What's the address?" Red asked, simultaneously pulling out his phone as he steered out of the school parking lot. 

After he received it, he typed it into his phone, reading something over before shoving it back into his pocket. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, but eventually broke the silence and glanced over at Emory. "You're going to your fucking ex's house?" 

Emory's gaze flickered over to Red. He paused, not knowing how to respond to that. He could be honest, but it wouldn't be entirely believable. 'Oh, yeah, I'm going to talk to her mom because she's spreading rumors about me,' just doesn't seem like something real. 

So, he could lie, but he couldn't think of anything decent at the moment. "Uh," He paused again, turning to look out the windshield. He cleared his throat before continuing, "I'm just picking some old stuff up. She won't be home, her mom's gonna give it to me." 

Red nodded slowly before responding, "Oh yeah? We'll see if that's true." 

"It is true. Not my fault you have trust issues or some shit," Emory grumbled, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Says you."

"Oh, excuse me for not believing everything the fucking mafia boss has to say. Especially when you fucking lie about everything." 

"Again, with the unnecessary swearing. Keep it up and I'll tape your mouth shut." Red turned to look at Emory. "And that's not a lie." 

"So that's a threat, and I no longer feel like this is a safe environment." 

"That's not a real threat." 

Emory's phone was going off nonstop, notifications from multiple different people, questioning him on the authenticity of the rumors, questioning him on why he 'did what he did', and some were just flat out insulting him and threatening to beat his ass. 

He wasn't scared of the random bots trying to 'jump him'. He could beat anyone in the entire school, and the ones threatening him were nobodies. 

"The kid who burnt your apartment down received seven years of prison," Red said suddenly before glancing over to Emory's phone. "Who's blowing up your phone?"

Ignoring the second question, Emory responded to the first statement. 

"Seven fucking years? Holy shit."

"You swore twice and didn't even say a complete sentence. Rephrase that," Red responded, sliding his hand up and down the steering wheel, his hand sliding across the leather. 

Emory rolled his eyes before continuing to speak. "Seven years is a lot. That'll like, last until he's..." Emory paused, thinking over what 18 plus seven is. He thought for a few more seconds, "Wait," He mumbled, before quieting again. He started counting on his fingers. 

"It'll last until he's like 26," Emory concluded, only having taken roughly 30 seconds to do the math.

Red glanced over to Emory. "It took you that long to do it and you're still wrong,"