I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
________________________________________
Chapter 90: The Lunch Table Standoff
Jon's Perspective
Jon had devised what he firmly believed was a bulletproof plan: act as if the incident had never happened. Not just ignore it—obliterate it from his memory through sheer willpower and strategic detachment.
The "incident," of course, being the deeply disturbing and unfortunately vivid moment that morning when he'd flung open that classroom door and accidentally witnessed Terry and Suki engaged in what could only be described as an overenthusiastic facial fusion. Lips, limbs, and unspoken hormones collided in a blur that Jon desperately wished he could scrub from his brain with industrial cleaner.
But, to his surprise—and deep relief—the plan worked. Sort of. He made it through history class without flinching. Survived calculus with only a minor eye twitch. Even during their overly intense poetry elective, where feelings were basically mandatory, he remained a model of stoic composure. No twitch. No spontaneous internal screaming. Just calm, unflinching emotional repression.
He was winning.
Until lunch.
That's when things fell apart.
Jon arrived at their usual table in the cafeteria, tray in hand, and dropped into his seat across from Terry like everything was totally normal. Mistake number one.
Terry was already there, hunched slightly, eyes locked onto his food tray with the intense focus of someone attempting telepathy—or perhaps trying to will himself invisible.
Jon, suddenly hyper-aware, began to regard his own sandwich with similar reverence, as if it might offer salvation from the awkward tension that had settled over them like a fog.
Beside them, Alex and Sam chatted freely, blissfully unaware of the emotional minefield between the two boys. For a moment, Jon thought—hoped—they might get away with it. Keep their secrets buried under a thick layer of nonchalance.
Then Alex's internal radar beeped.
She paused mid-sentence, eyes narrowing as she glanced between Jon and Terry.
"Okay, what is going on with you two?"
Jon stiffened. Terry blinked.
Sam followed Alex's gaze and frowned. "Yeah... something's off. You guys haven't made eye contact once. Usually, you're cracking dumb jokes and laughing at your own jokes."
Jon and Terry, panic flaring in sync, straightened like synchronized robots and responded in flat, overly coordinated unison:
"Nothing."
The word hung in the air like a lie in a courtroom.
Jon gave Terry a quick, tight nod—a silent agreement passed between the bro code lines: say nothing, reveal nothing, die with the secret if necessary.
But Sam wasn't buying it. Her eyes narrowed with investigative flair. "Something definitely happened. I'm going to figure it out."
She leaned forward, locking her gaze on Jon like a seasoned interrogator.
Alex, always up for a challenge, mirrored the movement and aimed her stare squarely at Terry. The air thickened.
Jon inhaled slowly. Kept his face blank. His inner monologue looped multiplication tables like a security measure against the rising panic. Six times seven is forty-two. Eight times eight is sixty-four. Don't crack. Don't let them in.
Terry cracked.
"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT KISSING IS!" he blurted, voice high-pitched with desperation.
The table froze.
Alex leaned back in stunned silence. "Wait... what?"
Sam blinked several times before asking, with a slow grin, "Hold on. Did you guys kiss?"
"NO!" Jon barked, way too loud. A few heads turned. He immediately winced, dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. "No. I accidentally walked in on Terry and Suki... going at it."
Terry turned to him, face flushed with horror. "Dude! Why?"
Jon gestured toward him emphatically. "Look, I panicked, okay? I'd rather they think you were kissing Suki than kissing me."
Terry paused, considered, and gave a reluctant nod. "Yeah. Fair."
Alex choked on her drink. Sam erupted into laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth.
"That's it?" Sam said through giggles. "That's what had you both acting like someone died?"
Jon frowned, deeply. "You don't understand. It was... intense. There were sounds."
"Lots of movement," Terry added darkly.
Sam was practically in tears from laughing now. "Guys. It's not a big deal. Just talk about it."
Jon's tone turned solemn. "We're men. We don't talk about these things."
Terry nodded gravely, matching his seriousness. "We do the mentally healthy thing—we suppress and deny."
Alex rolled her eyes so hard they nearly spun out of her head. "You two are impossible."
Sam grinned at Jon, head tilted. "You're lucky you're so cute, even when you're acting like an emotionally immature little brat."
Jon raised his juice box like a toast. "To pretending it never happened."
Terry lifted his apple with dramatic flair. "To denial."
The table broke into laughter.
And just like that, the horror of the morning—so raw and all-consuming just an hour ago—melted into a shared inside joke. For now, at least, the crisis had been successfully rebranded as comedy.
Jon could live with that.