The Donut Shop ✔️

'T' Stands for 'Terrible News'

"Are they still not talking to each other?" Oliver's sultry voice asked Ethan as they painted on one of the banners for the dance. 

Ethan nodded. "Neither of them showed up to their class that they have together. I think we should trick them into talking to one another," Ethan said, biting his lip as Oliver grabbed the brush that he had set down.

For the past few days that Tweed had avoided Mara, he had also been avoiding Ethan, so Ethan spent his afternoons prepping for the dance with Oliver. He had gotten to know a ton about Oliver, including his passion for painting, his having three sisters (and Ethan thought one was bad!), and his goals for the future.

Ethan found it admirable that Oliver still painted, even if he wasn't the best at it. Robotics was one of the only things that Ethan found comfort in, and he understood exactly what Oliver described he felt when he painted. It took away the stress that came with the real world. It was an escape, even for just a short time, kind of like how Sol Bakery was an escape. It was a place that Ethan felt safe in. 

"We should. This is ridiculous," Oliver agreed, tsking as he finished stroking a bright white across the blue of the banner.

"What about if I tell Tweed I need to talk to him, and you do the same with Mara, and we lure them into the janitor's closet to talk to each other?" Ethan suggested, and Oliver laughed at this idea.

"Yeah, and then we would have more carnage on our hands than the Spartans in 300," he teased, but Ethan knew he was serious. This could end badly if they didn't prepare them enough.

"Maybe we can sedate them with a tranquilizer bullet," Ethan said, only half-joking. Oliver chortled and set his paintbrush down, pushing his dark brown hair out of his face, but then grew serious as an idea brightened his visage.

"What if we have them talk to each other without actually talking to each other?" Oliver asked, giving Ethan an expectant grin. He gave an awkward one back, nodding and pretending to know what was going on. 

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked for clarification after a few moments of wordless nodding, and Oliver pushed to his feet, grabbing Ethan's arm and yanking him down the hall behind him.

As Oliver dragged him like a doll, all Ethan could think about was the warmth of his touch against his arm. When they arrived in front of the art room, Oliver stopped and turned to the boy behind him.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, and Ethan's response faltered. Of course, he did, but the real question was, did he trust himself? Was he brave enough to do this? 

Ethan took a deep breath, smiling at Oliver. "Yes."

***

"Sure this is going to work?" Ethan asked the boy beside him as they crouched behind a set of bushes outside, waiting for Tweed to show up first. No sooner had this question escaped Ethan's lips did Tweed round the corner, still sulky.

"Alright, once he steps into the box, it's go-time," Oliver whispered to Ethan, and he shuddered at the proximity of Oliver's lips. He felt his breath warm on his ear, but before he got too carried away, Ethan shuffled farther away from him and nodded.

Tweed glanced around, confused, as he lifted the handle to the box that they had just finished crafting. It still smelled like sawdust, and Ethan knew because he was the one to step inside and test it out. 

Turns out, Oliver was also in woodshop, which was almost too perfect and convenient for them, but Ethan didn't dare question the powerful ways and wonders of the universe.

They (more like Oliver) had managed to sketch a full confessional booth within a matter of minutes with pretty precise dimensions, and within a few hours, had nailed a few pieces of plywood board up to simulate the box used in churches.