When Saturday came, my suspicion started to rise.
Ever since Thursday Aiden had started to act—different.
Well he always acts different, but he just seems more distraught, like he is constantly thinking about something but is to nervous to spit it out.
I don't know why that makes me feel irritated, maybe it's because he is the one who created this group but is to nervous to say anything. Or because his mood practically changed the atmosphere.
He didn't changed physically though, which is just as surprising. The psychotic smirk of his never wavering, not once.
He even opted out of hanging out with the group, which actually took most of us by surprise, due to Aiden never wanting to dis-include himself from a social experience.
Questions where always passed through Ben, as he was the only one Aiden ever actually said anything meaningful to. Yet, even he was left with a dull response.
Which leads to right now.
Monday, the start of a brand new school week.
Typically, Aiden would talk about the smallest details of his weekend, he'd crave the conversation he had missed over the two days.
But as I watch him, our desks side by side, next to each other, I notice he hasn't said much. His usual smile is on display, but the way he dismisses any prompt for a meaningless conversation is oddly concerning.
Sighing, I drop my attention from my math sheet to a scrap peice of paper I had taken out in case I needed any notes. However now I think I could put it to another use.
Eyeing the boy next to me one last time, I avert my gaze and focus on the paper in front of me, my pencil dancing from word to word as I write my question.
Reading over what I had wrote, checking for any spelling mistakes, I realize that he probably wouldn't notice if there where any.
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You're being weird. What's going on?
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As nonchalantly as possible, I slide my paper across my desk to his.
I watch as his eyes fall onto the page, reading over the words carefully, before a scoff. A SCOFF. Comes out of his mouth, he picks up his, too—small pencil, and scratches out a response.
I watch the paper transfer back to my desk
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Yeah? Thats a little rude
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His hand writing is horrendous, but im able to make something out of it.
I turn to look at him, expecting to be stared at, except I'm met with a boy oddly engrossed in his math work.
Yeah no something is wrong.
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Positive? Because you haven't been talking as much as
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much as you would normally, plus you've been acting strange.
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His eyes scan over the paper once again, I notice how his shoulders slightly slumped, he began to write again.
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Ok so it's kind of embarrassing and I'm not going
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to write it out on a piece of paper can we go to
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Millies after school? I promise I'll tell you there
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Millie's. The tiny diner, with somehow the largest food variety to choose from. Yet— somehow, the only thing good there is the fries and their milkshakes.
I bring my head up, to see Aiden, giving me—almost a pleading look, he's slightly nodding his head to the note.
"Is it really that important?" I whisper.
"Kinda" He speaks lightly, but the unsure tone of his voice throws me off a bit
"We'd walk there after school, it won't be loud cause they are slow on weekdays, I would know." He states, before leaning in a little closer to me, expecting a response.
In the back of my mind I think it's odd how he can just casually ask a girl to go get dinner with him, but at the same time I remind myself that whatever Aidens been hiding from everyone, I'd find it out.
I sigh a little bit, contemplating if my parents would mind or not. Before looking up to him. His unnatural red eyes practically screaming in desperation.
"Jesus—fine."
I expected him to relax a little, but he throws me a tense nod before returning back to the math sheet.
Just what is on this boys mind?
