You're a Masterpiece (BOOK 1)

Chapter 4

AN: hi, loves!! don't be a ghost reader!! <33

Art had an amazing first month of school.

That... surprised them the most.

Every day they found more people to befriend and more people to bother. They jumped from friend group to friend group, and surprisingly enough people greeted them and took them under their wing. Art talked their way into acquaintances and spent the quarter laying down the groundwork for friendships. They were getting along pretty well with everyone—except for the jocks but that was a given—and soon enough Art... blended in.

But it wasn't in a bad way. No, it was in a way that made them happier and made them feel like they belonged. They approached people and they were welcomed. They shimmied their way into being added to friend group-chats. They were joined in Instagram stories, weekend outings, and after-school mall trips.

When they dyed their hair black, too, they didn't stick out like a sore thumb or a special limb. They were one with their classmates. The mean, over-enthusiastic glares they received in the orange-tiled hallways disappeared as they began to melt into the crowd, slowly being accepted a part of the student body. (Art also assumed another reason why bitches didn't mess with them was because Chase was their friend—and if anyone messed with Chase that also meant messing with Shade fucking Flaurante.)

So, Art studied. And they laughed in class and traveled from group to group, talking about boys one day and K-Pop on another. They had favorite teachers—Sir Castillor, Ms. Bea—and cursed the rest.

They laughed with Chase and continued to teach him about gay rights, while they went out together every Monday after training to get the as-promised pancit canton. To be honest, Art didn't see what was so special about it, since pancit canton was pancit canton no matter where you found the fucking noodles. But Chase loved them. And he was funny. And he was Art's friend. So, they shut up about it and ate out with him as they traded stories about their time at training.

"I'm getting a lot better at being a shooter," Chase gushed one night, giddy and excited and nearly jumping in his seat.

"Really?" Art asked as they twirled the pancit around their fork. "How?"

"I'm getting a lot better with my threes!" Chase said proudly, handing Art his phone—because he was Chase and of course he had a video. Art knew a thing or two about basketball—their Tito taught them—so they nodded in approval at Chase's form, the strength of his shooting arm, and the accuracy of his shot.

"Ang galing mo," (("You're really good,")) they mused and handed him back his phone.

"Syempre!" (("Of course!"))

"Cocky bitch."

Chase burst out laughing, slapping the table and throwing his head back. The other customers of the humble karinderia stared to look at them... But Art didn't give a shit. They were very fucking happy, as much as they were exhausted.

"What about you? How was dance?"

Art grinned. "The team likes me," they explained happily. "Like, I'm getting a lot close to Kuya Caloy and Ate Daye. And all the team members are older than me, so you know..."

"Bunso ka?" (("You're the youngest?")) Chase nodded knowingly. "That's nice, then. At least you get all the attention."

"I like the attention."

"Alam ko," (("I know,")) Chase chugged down his coke merrily. "Halata naman." (("That was obvious."))

Art punched him in the shoulder. He snorted. Art finished up the last of their pancit canton, being careful not to eat too fast. Noodles made their stomach hurt.