Six Things Before Breakfast

13

i'm sorry it's been so long! here's the long-awaited update. two chapters to make up for my absence!

please don't hate becks ;-; put yourself in a position where her secret is outed to maxon by sanders when she's kept it for four years by herself :c (and i promise, she will get better!)

leave your comments, i love reading them <3

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Sanders's coping mechanism is answering BuzzFeed Quizzes. Wanna know which Barbie leading man is your favorite? Just plan your ideal date to find out (Prince Aidan from Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus)! It's time to find out if you're Shrek or Donkey (Shrek. Huh)! This personality quiz will reveal which drink you are (Lemonade. You're sweet as you are sour)!

That, and pretending nothing happened.

The thing is. That argument—that full-blown, nasty, crying and screaming argument with Becks—that was not how he imagined losing her. Not even losing to Maxon—Sanders could care less about her choosing Maxon, about her heart never making space for him—but. But. Losing Becks. His best friend.

Why are those two words put together? They sound like a scream. They sound like a cry falling on deaf ears, like a 52-hertz whale calling with its 52-hertz frequency—the loneliest whale in the world. The words are not even supposed to be strung together, they're not supposed to be near each other. Sanders didn't think, when he dyed his hair purple (because Becks's parents wouldn't let her dye her own without someone to match hers), when he let his Overwatch character die to stay on FaceTime because Becks couldn't sleep during last year's winter break, when he learned a stupid TikTok dance with her (which they had to retake a million times over because they can't get the damn choreography right), when she kissed him for the first time and he's wanted her fingers on his face and skin and the dip of his spine and hips every moment since then—that he can lose her.

Forget about his feelings. Forget about his feelings—his palms are clammy, his mind is racing, and he thinks he's about to lose her, his best friend, and he will never forgive himself if he does.

So. Pretend nothing happened.

He has the almond milk in his hand. He goes in Becks's room without as much as a second thought, and gently shakes her awake. "Hey, morning."

Becks blinks blearily. Confused, half-asleep. It takes a few seconds for her to realize it's Sanders talking, that he's sitting on her bed, after a nasty fight of confessed feelings and suppressed emotions and crying—but. But. No. Sanders built his very own mansion to see if he belonged with Harry Styles or Louis Tomlinson (Louis Tomlinson), he designed his own coffee shop to see which Starbucks secret item he should try (Cinnamon Roll Frappuccino), and he chose foods to put ranch on to see what gemstone will be in his engagement ring (Why would pizza have ranch? Disgusting. Also, a diamond. Which is fucking expensive, but BuzzFeed tells him his taste in ranch is timeless. So. Acceptable. Diamond it is). "You're back," she rasps, rubbing her eyes.

There's drool on her cheek. "Yup, just had a sleepover at Rosen's. Here you go." He hands her the milk and throws off the covers. "I'm going to make breakfast, go wash up. Or not, Maxon isn't here." Sanders smiles at her and stands.

He can feel her eyes at the back of his head, but Sanders keeps walking. Makes breakfast and coffee. Slides a plate across the counter when Becks comes out, hair in curls, face washed, ratty old shirt and basketball shorts falling off her hips. Maxon isn't here.

She's staring at him when she sits down, hesitant, and, and confused.

Sanders sits beside her and eats his sausages.