𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐧 || 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 ||

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗 : 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥!

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🪓 ꒱

It was Monday morning dawned like any other, yet for Milo, there was an air of apprehension that hung heavy around her.

 With her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, she navigated through the throngs of students, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Suddenly, a familiar voice pierced through the fog of her thoughts. "Milo!" called out Harper, bounding over to her with an energy that Milo couldn't help but envy. 

Startled, Milo halted in her tracks, turning to face her friend with a forced smile.

"Hey, Harper," Milo greeted her, her tone lacking its usual warmth as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, a feeble attempt to shield herself from the world.

But Harper, ever perceptive, didn't miss the tension that lingered in the air. "Have you seen Richie?" she inquired, her concern evident in her voice. 

Milo's breath hitched momentarily as memories of Richie flooded her mind, the events of the past week casting a shadow over her.

"Um, no, I haven't seen him yet," Milo replied, her words tinged with uncertainty. "Maybe he's running late," she lied, her voice trailing off as she struggled to mask her unease.

Harper's expression softened, a silent understanding passing between them. "Yeah, maybe," she conceded, her gaze lingering on Milo for a moment longer before she spoke again. 

"If you see him, can you let me know?" she asked gently, her concern for Richie mirroring Milo's own.

Milo nodded silently, a weight settling in her chest as she watched Harper walk away. As the noise of the hallway faded into the background, Milo couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, a nagging sense of dread that refused to be ignored.

Amidst the chatter of her friends, Milo felt a sense of relief wash over her. 

Steph's familiar voice cut through the tension like a lifeline, drawing her attention away from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind. 

"Well, that was some game this weekend," Steph remarked as she approached, accompanied by Pete, Ruth, and Margo. Pete's frustration with the recent football match was palpable as he cursed under his breath. "Man... Fuck Clivesdale! Fucking Chemists," he exclaimed, his words heavy with disappointment.

Steph, ever the voice of reason, attempted to offer some solace. "We'll get 'em next year, Pete," she reassured him, her hand gently intertwining with Milo's as she cast a reassuring smile in her direction.