Finding the Pure Note

A Special Kind of Awesome

Over the years I've learned that Fletcher is a special kind of awesome. People will always be busy, and you appreciate it when someone makes the time for you in their busy schedule, but Fletcher is the rare kind of person who never even glances at his schedule when you need him. Who always puts those he cares about before him. And sure, that's gonna change in the future; life fucking sucks like that, but I know he'd put so much on the line, even then, to make sure I was doing okay. Next to him, I look like a right tosspot.

I say this because we have practice exams coming up and I just found out he has a test tomorrow he hasn't studied for. If I told mum, she'd be ordering him home straight away to fix that, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her...

"I want to go out with your family," he explains, straightening his hair with his hands, regarding himself in the bathroom mirror like he is a million quid: all tux and swagger. In reality, he's still in his school uniform, but the blazer is his secret weapon. "It's casual. Maybe we exchange numbers, but really I'm looking for a good time."

"Alright, mate, lay off a little." I have no intention of letting him go home. He was being selfless; I was being selfish. It summed us up pretty nicely. "I don't think you can handle mum; she's a bit full-on. You're not a big fan of rock so you can't be friends with dad."

"I'll have you know your dad adopted me many years ago, thanks."

"Okay, so you have dad. But like, only on weekends. Hunter is roadkill. Though me... I wouldn't mind a piece of that arse."

Fuck. Did I really just say that out loud?

"Your family are just plus ones," he smiles, breezing right past my comment. "This is for you, babe."

I swallow, hard. "Uh, but yeah, er, tonight...." Fuck. Fletcher makes me weak and he can never realise the godly power he wields.

He flashes me a cheesy smirk and steps away from the mirror, satisfied. "Time to order some shit steak."

"How do you know it'll be shit?"

He rolls his eyes as if I missed the most obvious joke. "Because of my Tourette's. The joke was I'll order my meal and I'll accidentally swear and make it all awkward. I—" Two tics. "didn't think I'd have to explain—" He twitches his neck twice, accentuated by a snorting tic. "Explain it to a genius like you."

"A genius, huh? A genius would be smart enough not to fuck over the best friends he's ever had."

Fletcher shrugs his shoulders, sauntering back into my room. He throws himself across the bed, removing my hard work straightening out the creases.

"True," he agrees, staring up at the ceiling. "But geniuses—fucking hell—also focus way too much on their studies. No time for distractions—shit-balls—and I'm your biggest distraction, mate."

"Yeah, but you're worth it..." I murmur, more to myself.

I throw myself onto the bed next to him, lying with my legs dangling over the edge. I nestle my head against his chest and I can feel it rise and fall with his breathing. It's nice.

"Do you—"

My phone starts ringing, Fall Out Boy blaring, this week's ringtone. Last week was My Chemical Romance. The mood today is nostalgia for a rebellious eight-year-old Clay, furiously declaring to dad that Fall Out Boy was a better rock band than ACDC. I've never seen dad get properly angry in his life, or even semi-pissed, and that crossed a line.

I sigh thinly once I see Kaylee's call ID. Fletcher cranes his neck to get a good look at who has disturbed our peace, though his face falls faster than mine, and I look to him questioningly.