𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊║𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Fred was done with pretending.

Everything was a mess, in his perspective. It took everything in him to keep up the friendly act with Y/n, and it was even harder knowing that tonight she'd be his date. Friends or no, Y/n was his date. This could very well be the best chance he has to tell her everything.

So, Fred decided he was done with pretending. Decided he wanted to tell her about all the things that drove him crazy about her. He wanted to tell that he fancied her— if he could find out if that was how he felt, or if it was love.

That was the one thing that really tore him to shreds trying to decipher. The word "love" was something he's only seen between his mum and dad— between the couples in the corridors, kissing and hugging their goodbyes. But the fact he felt that tug of love was... almost unbelievable to him, unsettling that he wasn't even with her. He felt that he should be denied the right to love her if he wasn't hers and she wasn't his— and with his heart straining to no end, he almost wanted it to be...

Her face when he asked her out... The shocked expression he couldn't seem to figure out made him so angry, it haunted him. And so he drew it out, every detail from his memory that was all too vivid for comfort, and burned it. Every detail of her beautiful face contorted in shock and confusion— burned. Burned it so he had some sort of power over getting rid of the small strain in his heart, and it worked for a few minutes before he was nearly yelling at George and Lee, explaining everything.

They said love. Lee and George said he sounded like a boy in love.

But was it really something they knew? Was it something they could really make a judgment on? Or was it something he had to figure out for himself?

He knew the answer— he knew it, and still... And still was the doubt and the frustration of it. There was no escaping the way he felt, he tried and tried, but it never went away. He knew the only way out of this hellhole of emotions was to tell her and hope she was stuck in it, too.

"We're already late," Lee frowned at his watch, the gold glinting in the light.

"Why don't you both just go then?" Fred grumbled, running his hands over his face.

"We're not leaving without you," George looked at Fred, his sky-blue, silk blouse catching the light. "I'm telling you, she picked out a couple's costume, Freddie. From my knowledge, Mavis and Johnny are in love, in that kids movie— like, married and everything."

Fred pulled at his shirt, frowning at it. He was indeed dressed up from Johnny as from Hotel Transylvania, and he trusted her enough to wear it, even though he never watched it. And also Y/n dressed up as Mavis... he had agreed almost instantly after seeing her put together and try on the costume.

"Listen," George sighed, putting down the makeup palette Lee borrowed from Carrie Mckinnon. "Just tell her, mate. Put your pea-sized brain to work and put the pieces together and realize that it isn't a coincidence she dyed her hair after you told her she'd look great, that she blushed when you kissed her on the cheek and left that green kiss print at the World Cup, and that it isn't a coincidence that she chose a couple's costume."

Fred ran a hand through his now fluffy, trimmed hair— courtesy of Lee's hairstyling skills— and sighed. Then he looked up, right at the two that seemed to know everything about love, and asked, "You think she fancies me?"

George looked at Lee, who smiled, and then said, "I guess you'll have to find out, Freddie boy."

"If you've got the guts," Lee added, also adding a wink along with it.