We've all heard and devoured the classic trope involving the shenanigans of a jock, a princess, a nerd, and a criminal. Although who knows of the trouble capable of ensuing when The Breakfast Club isn't PG-13 anymore?
That's the 2007 freshman batch...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
16th February 2015– Present Day
***
The very few times that I have witnessed life come to full circle would be when the once upon a time tourists at Times Square, sooner or later blend amongst the cranky, hoverboarding tour guides of NYC. And I can claim with surety, this isn't one of those cases.
It's been a certain number of hours since I left the precinct to prove Archie's innocence, since I turned Mia into a hostage, since she told her version of Kylie's tragic tale, since George hung up on us whilst panicking like a dove caught in a cage, and since the infamous gang of Arlington has reunited to bury the hatchet. The only problem being that it's not ours to bury.
"I bet you weren't expecting a budding rockstar turned fancied criminal to walk through that door and flip your little lives upside down, now were you? Well, at least the three of you look genuinely surprised," he chuckles, his tongue rolling the same way it did all those years ago.
He wasn't wrong, though. All it took was the mention of his glorious name and the realisation that followed after, to leave our earlier zipped mouths hanging till the foot of Mia's alcohol soaked couch. Harry Louis. Call me dumb, but if I knew everything's that hidden behind the starry eyed bass player's brooding eyes, I wouldn't have held out a free pass to our dainty lives back then. Not that we seem any respectable now— a detective working for the NYPD, the co-anchor of a nationally aired television show, the employee of the month at Clouldmart, and an executive editor, working for an interior design based magazine— all sitting next to each other at six in the morning, tied up to a chair, listening out the one who plotted against them eight years back. The reason? The reason being that Harry was...
"Avon Alex Louis. My naive younger brother, the poor guy who was at the mercy of you demons and several others of your like, who all had a hand in committing his ruthless murder on that night of June, 2007," He grits his teeth, words jabbing us in all the wounded places. While the reality of it attempts to seep through my already befuddled mind, I notice how the signs were there all along. The slight ruffle of his jet black hair, which has now been trimmed down to a buzz cut. The ginormous tattoo of a skull stretching across his bicep, now teared apart by the raw of his bruised skin. The tiny rum bottles, always sitting the pockets of his jeans, now masking over his breath. And the golden chain, the only thing intact around his neck, refusing to leave.
If I had delved a little more, I could have connected the tale, how Avon and Harry had so much in common. Except that Avon couldn't hold as great a fight as his brother does.... we didn't let him.
"But this isn't about me and my small family, you know. It's about how you guys rolled over the very people you considered your so called second family." Trailing around the four of us in circles, he scoffs. "You know what I'm talking about, Mia, don't you?" He slightly bends over to where Mia is sitting, and for the first time in history, I witness her shy away, instead of matching the guy's gaze with an equal ferociousness.
