Chapter Text
The last day of summer is always the worst. Ozo thinks so, at least.
He can have as much fun as he’d like, but nothing quells the stress of knowing that tomorrow, he’ll be thrown right back into the same stupid routine he had two months ago. It sucks.
This isn’t helped by the fact that summer is beginning to feel shorter every year. Seriously, what kind of sense does that make?
Whatever. Might as well enjoy today while he’s got it.
The sun beats down on Ozo’s back, sweat dripping from the crevices of his hoodie. He sits near the edge of Sony’s massive pool, watching Weegee as he swims around in a bright green tube floatie. Meanwhile, Bkinger is laying on one of the deck chairs, apparently trying to work on her last minute ‘tan’ before school starts.
And Sony, well.. he’s standing on the diving board. Exactly where he shouldn’t be.
“What’re you doing?” Ozo calls out, watching as his friend steadily approaches the board’s edge.
“What’s it look like?” Sony questions, as if offended that he doesn’t already know the answer, before loudly proclaiming, “I’m gonna do a backflip.”
..Of course.
Last time Sony attempted a backflip on the diving board, he ended up with a broken and bloodied face. Nearly two years ago, yet it still remains fresh on Ozo’s mind somehow.
He can’t help but wonder if Sparten still remembers it too— the other boy had been there on that fateful day, after all.
Sony radiated the same confidence as he does now, boasting skills that really didn’t exist to the crowd of two. Ozo vividly remembers trying to talk his friend out of it, and how Sparten managed to predict that something was going to go wrong.
As painful as it might’ve been for the other boy, Ozo really wishes he could go back to those days sometimes. When his worries felt very minuscule in the grand scheme of things, and when his friend group wasn’t completely torn in half. He misses being carefree. He misses Sparten.
But he won’t let himself admit that.
“Dude, you’re gonna hurt yourself again,” Ozo goes ahead and states the obvious, knowing that no one else will. Doesn’t seem like Sony plans to listen anyway.
His back is turned while he prepares to jump. “Nah, dude. I’ll be fine, trust me!”
Looks like he’s really going for it. Unsurprising, but Ozo still looks on, visibly concerned as Sony goes flying with little grace in his flailing form.
Weegee screams like a little girl as Sony lands on him with a loud plop, somehow managing to splash some water onto Bkinger as well.
The redhead sputters for a moment, coughing as he resurfaces, “You got water in my nose!”
“On my MP3 player, too. Nice going,” Bkinger adds with a dramatic eye-roll.
“Hey, it’s not like I meant to do that!” Sony pouts in response before turning to Ozo, seemingly forgetting about his dumb stunt in an instant, “Are you sure you don’t wanna swim with us?”
Ozo hasn’t gotten into the pool yet, and he feels there’s a good reason for that. One that he’d never share with his friends no matter how isolating it feels.
That sickening itch underneath his layered clothes.
It’s been months, yet the pain always seems to linger. Dozens of cruel reminders beneath his skin.
Even during the summertime–when the sultry heat is at its absolute worst–Ozo can’t bring himself to wear short sleeves. The marks will be too noticeable, he thinks. Not only that, but his friends will definitely have comments. People will stare at him like he’s some lunatic– a freakshow act on the loose.
And there’s nothing Ozo hates more than being perceived. Sparten is a close second, though. Maybe.
He manages to nod slowly after nearly a minute of hesitation. “Positive. I’m fine just chilling right here.”
“If ya say so..”
“How’re you not burning up? Even the water isn’t doing much for me,” Weegee comments over Sony, causing the other to huff.
Do they think he’s like– superhuman or something? It’s at least 90 degrees outside, of course he’s burning up. At least he kinda compromised by wearing shorts instead of those suffocatingly tight jeans he always wears to school.
“Dunno. I’m just cool like that,” Ozo shrugs, a little grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
Somehow, this manages to get a chuckle out of Sony. “Ah-hah! I see what you did there, Ozzy.”
“Sony, you know I hate being called that,” He scoffs. More playful than anything, but he'd be lying if he said the nickname didn’t irk him slightly.
“Right, right. I forgot.”
“But why, though?” Weegee speaks up again, seeming genuinely curious. It’s to be expected. Compared to the other two, Ozo hasn’t known him for very long.
As soon as the question hits Ozo, every thought in his brain completely evaporates. Every single word; gone in an instant.
Only two names remain.
Two names that he wishes he didn’t have to think about right now, both for entirely different reasons. He doesn’t even need to hear them out loud.
“There are just,” Ozo exhales, now a little less enthusiastic than before, “too many memories attached to that nickname.”
Both Sony and Weegee don’t seem to press any further, accepting the answer with two short ‘oh’s.
Bkinger hasn’t been making conversation this whole time. Fuschia-colored sunglasses obscure her closed eyes, the same Paramore track blaring through her earbuds for the hundredth time while she soaks in the sun.
If anything, Weegee should probably be asking his girlfriend how she’s not fed up with the heat yet. Feels like she should be.
While his other two friends have gone back to playing around in the pool, Ozo allows his thoughts to sweep him away like an unforgiving current.
The last time he saw Sparten was towards the end of May, after school had already ended. For some reason, Sony decided to sign them both up as student volunteers for the elementary school’s field day. And as if by coincidence, that backstabbing asshole just happened to also be there.
Not alone, of course. His new best friend, Ari, was there to keep the idiot company. There wasn’t any interaction between them, but Ozo could feel the other boy’s eyes on him from a distance. Piercing through his skull like two sharp, venomous daggers.
What reason does he have to be so pissed? It’s not like Sparten was the one who suffered for months on end, wondering when he’d be able to see his best friend again. He doesn’t know anything about suffering.
He wasn’t strung along, made to believe that everything was going to work out– only to have those hopes and wishes ripped away from him at the very last minute. Like it never meant anything, and he supposes it didn’t mean much to Sparten.
All because entertaining falsities seemed more convenient than rubbing salt into his wound and letting it burn. Ozo truthfully believes the latter would’ve hurt less. No doubt.
And as for Brandon, Ozo hasn’t gotten to see him in person since the hospital visit.
He still remembers every detail vividly.. His best friend looked so vulnerable, so vacant as he laid in that white bed. His face was mostly obscured by bandages, hiding the ugly wound he gained from that horrific near death experience.
He’s been keeping in touch with Brandon’s aunt and uncle, apparently his best friend still has yet to wake up. It’s excruciating, not knowing what the outcome will be. Sitting here in painful anticipation, waiting for good news. With so much uncertainty left to linger in the air.
For now, it seems like there’s not much Ozo can do but think about it. Hopefully, a more favorable update will be coming soon.
His uncomfortable pondering session is cut short by the sound of Weegee yelling. Ozo looks up to see that Sony has jumped on his back, seemingly attempting to drown him.. at least, that’s certainly what it looks like.
“Dude, get off !” Weegee tries to swat the other off like a bug, to no avail, “You’re gonna break my spine!”
Sony gasps in faux offense. “Are you calling me fat??”
“If the shoe fits, wear it!”
This causes Sony to jump on top of him as the inner tube struggles to stay afloat. Ozo is surprised that it hasn’t popped yet.
“Guys, knock it off,” At last, Bkinger scolds the two boys with an underlying grin, “You’re both endearingly stupid.”
Weegee pushes a yelping Sony back into the water as he glances at her adoringly. “But you like that, don’t you?”
“Definitely. It’s my favorite thing about you, sugarbun,” She says back with subtle flirtation. Ozo almost wants to puke.
“Okay, I think it might be time to go inside. The AC is calling my name,” He remarks bluntly, already getting up from his spot by the pool.
The concrete instantly singes his heels as he waddles towards the shade. He grabs a water bottle out of the cooler, taking a big swig while Bkinger soon follows. She looks done, too.
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be out here much longer. Wouldn’t wanna go back to school looking all sunburnt,” She says back, adding a tiny giggle to the end of her sentence.
Not long after, Sony and Weegee both exit the pool and begin drying themselves off. Seems as though the joy of summer has truly worn off, and now Ozo is forced to accept that he has no choice but to start his sophomore year tomorrow.
He sighs audibly. “Where did the time go? Feels like summer just started, and now it’s almost over. This isn’t fair.”
“I feel ya, dude,” Sony huffs, “but at least we all got to hang out together one more time before it ends.”
All together. It doesn’t sound as true as it should. At least, not in Ozo’s mind. Someone is missing.
Two people are missing, actually, but one of them made the choice to leave. The other is just… temporarily gone. He hopes.
He wishes he could magically do something to change that, perhaps revert Brandon back to the way he was before all of that bullshit happened. Anything other than remaining where he is, reminiscing. The worst kind of torture.--
“You good, Ozo?” Suddenly, Sony appears directly in front of him, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin, “Sorry. Y’were spacing out.”
“I dunno, I guess I’m just.. a bit anxious. Something like that,” Ozo shifts uncomfortably, though he can tell that Sony already understands why, “I should probably go home and rest.”
Concern subtly laces his friend’s face as he nods. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. We’ll see each other tomorrow before classes start, anyway.”
“Yep. I’m not looking forward to it, but—”
Upon turning around, Ozo is greeted by the sight of Bkinger and Weegee openly kissing in front of the sliding door. “..Get a room, you two.”
The two appear stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter. Bkinger speaks up, teasingly. “If Brandon was here, I know for a fact I’d be saying the same to you and him.”
“Shut up,” Ozo whines, quickly covering the furious blush as it overtakes his face. As much as he’d like to deny it, she’s probably right. At this current moment, there’s nothing he wishes he could do more than kiss Brandon.
“Dude, you look like a tomato right now!” Weegee exclaims, only embarrassing him further.
“Whatever! I’m going home,” The door slides open, and Ozo steps into Sony’s house.
His three friends are close behind, and they bid each other farewell before promising they’ll get a chance to hang out tomorrow at school. Then, Ozo grabs his shoes and skateboard.
And he’s out the door in a flash.
__**__
There’s been a.. slight change of plans.
Ozo is supposed to be going home– since he’s been gone long enough, but he realized how far his house is from Sony’s. The last thing he wants to do is skateboard all the way there in these scorching conditions.
Additionally, his mom asked him to buy school supplies today. It’d be wrong of him to go home empty handed.
So, here he is, gliding down the road as he prepares to make his second stop of the day.
Where, you may ask? Kmart, of course.
Ozo loves Kmart, it’s his second favorite store after Walmart. They’ve got basically everything a person could ever need, and then some. Nothing like going to a cool store all by yourself on the last day of summer break.
“Ack!–”
The front wheels of his skateboard make contact with the curb for a second, almost causing him to topple forward. Luckily, he’s able to balance himself again just as he stops in front of the large building.
Hopefully this doesn’t take too long, he wants to have time to play Roblox before he’s scolded for ‘staying up too late’ again. If there’s one thing he definitely doesn’t miss about being forced to go back to school, it’s that.
Kmart is incredibly packed when Ozo enters. That’s to be expected, he thinks. There were a lot of cars in the parking lot. Regardless, he doesn’t pay attention to anyone else. He knows what he’s here for.
Weaving through crowds of carts, disembodied voices, and mothers trying to shush their crying children– Ozo heads straight for the bargain movie bin. It’s his favorite part of any major superstore.
He leans his board against the side of the bin and instantly begins digging around inside. Occasionally, he’ll find something worth watching amongst all the shitty kids movies and crap that was released before he was even born. Most of it is stuff he’s already seen, but it doesn’t hurt to look anyway.
Fight Club? Seen it. Pet Sematary? Final Destination? Seen it. The Notebook? Everybody and their grandmother has seen that– hell, he probably watched it at his grandma’s house. Fuck. Is there anything good that he hasn’t watched in this bin? Probably not.
Perhaps he’ll have more luck in the CD aisle–
Wait a second.
Ozo has to do a double take, he’s sure he’s seen those wine red highlights before. Yeah, he definitely has. That’s unmistakably Ari.
And who’s that beside him, holding his hand?
He actually looks pretty cool; tan skin, brownish-black hair with orange streaks underneath. Baggy jeans, and some sort of band tee.
..Wait a minute.
Tan skin. Brownish-black hair. Orange streaks.
Surely not. It’s just a coincidence, there’s no way that’s who he thinks it is. There’s no way.. it can’t be…
The mysterious person’s head tilts slightly, giving Ozo a clear view of his face, and he realizes that’s exactly who he wishes it wasn’t.
Sparten.
No.
No, no, no.
What the fuck?
Of course he’d be forced to see those two here. In his second favorite place, looking at CDs together. Holding hands.
Are they.. together? It wouldn’t surprise him. At this point, nothing shocks him anymore.
Ozo rolls his eyes, hoping that the gesture will somehow be felt by Sparten and Ari, who are now walking away. He doesn’t give a fuck. He’s not interested in CDs anymore.
All he wants to do is go home and cry, he’s not gonna embarrass himself in public over something as stupid as this. It shouldn’t matter to him, yet it does. He isn’t sure why.
Worst of all, a realization just came to him.
His mom never asked him to buy school supplies. In fact, she already did that yesterday. What a mess.
__**__
Ozo patiently waits outside the store. He doesn’t want to walk or skate to his house, which is at least twenty minutes away. His mom is at work, and he knows that his little brother usually naps in the afternoon, so he doesn’t want to inconvenience his grandma by asking her to pick him up.
So, naturally, he decided to ask someone else. Since Sparten decided to replace him with an older guy, Ozo figured he might as well do the same. It’s only fair, he thinks.
There’s this dude named Eden who lives right next to him, and he seems cool enough. Definitely way cooler than Ari, and it isn’t even a contest.
Ozo has spent a lot of time over at Eden’s place this summer, mostly watching him play guitar and such. He says he can play a lot of other instruments, too. Apparently he’s a music prodigy. And he’s kinda handsome, though Ozo wouldn’t pick him over Brandon.
Hopefully he’s on his way here right now. Ozo swears he’ll make it everybody’s problem if he has to venture back all alone with only the merciless sun to keep him company.
The smell of smoke makes itself very apparent as a beat up, slightly rusty pick-up truck pulls in front of him. All four of the windows are down, very loud rock music blaring from the radio and forcing most of the nearby shoppers to stop what they’re doing in order to look.
“Hop in, kid!” Eden doesn’t seem too bothered by the disgruntled stares he’s attracting, and Ozo quickly climbs in the passenger side to avoid potentially being spotted by Sparten.
The car speeds off as soon as he gets in, leaving barely any time to buckle his seatbelt as Eden dials the music up even more. Not that he minds, his hearing is already shitty enough.
The older man’s voice is barely audible over the Breaking Benjamin song that’s currently playing, though Ozo somehow manages to hear him anyway. “So, how’ve you been lately? You lookin’ forward to going back to school?”
“Fuck no,” He answers over the radio, “School is full of idiots, I’d rather kill myself than go back.”
“Can’t imagine. Listen, it ain’t that hard. All you have’ta do is show up and barely try in every class. Glide by, y’know?”
“Yeah, but apparently sophomore year is the hardest,” Ozo sighs heavily.
He doesn’t know if that’s true or not, but Sony said his cousin almost got held back last year– his sophomore year. It must be pretty difficult if that’s the case.
“Ain’t worth killing yourself over, that’s for damn sure," He shrugs back, "C’mon, ’m tellin’ you that there’s no need to worry. Only stuck-up tryhards worry about grades ‘n test scores.”
..Okay, maybe Eden does have a point. In middle school, his teachers always claimed that getting through high school would be the hardest thing they ever did. But he managed to survive his freshman year with little to no problems.. academically, at least. He considers himself pretty average, but average isn’t bad. Perhaps there’s no reason to be so stressed.
Can he apply that advice to his conflict with Sparten, though? He doesn’t think so.
It’s okay. He’ll just try to do what he always does.
Ozo won’t crack under the pressure. He’ll adapt.
That’s really all that can be done.