Chapter Text
Food was always something that this odd little friend group never ran out of.
From boxed lunches from parents, to those small bags of chips that they would always get at the vending machines, and to the small pieces of candy that Ozo seemed to always carry around in his pocket; It was just something that they always never had to worry about.
Hence, it was why Sparten was pissed that Ozo was asking for a bite from his lunchbox.
“C'mon man! Just a small bite!” Ozo's grubby little hands started to reach into his lunchbox. Sparten had to slap it away.
“You literally have your own lunch right there!” Sparten pointed out, looking at the neglected lunchbox that was right next to Ozo.
“Well— Yeah, but—” Ozo grumbled, “I don't like my lunch.”
“You should just learn to pack your own lunch instead of relying on your mom all the time.” Sparten teased.
“Shut up.” Ozo pouted.
“I can eat it.” Brandon suddenly spoke up. It was a voice that the two boys hadn't heard in a while despite the fact the three of them had agreed to eat together. Sparten honestly forgot that Brandon was also there, the boy was so quiet most of the time.
“Yeah, just take it.” Ozo gave his lunchbox over to Brandon, to which the latter happily accepted.
It wasn't an unusual sight seeing Ozo give his unwanted lunch to Brandon. In fact, it was kind of the norm to give any leftover food to Brandon. Something about it rubbed Sparten the wrong way; No offense to Brandon, but it honestly made him feel like he was the friend group’s… personal trash can. It wasn't his fault though, of course. It was everyone else’s fault for being so picky!
He scoffed thinking about it. “You have to stop being so picky.”
“What are you, my mom?” Ozo replied back.
Sparten smirked, “You wanted my food, right?” He stabbed one of his dumplings with his fork and brought it up to Ozo's face, “Here comes the airplane~! Say aah!”
“Shut up! I don't even want it anymore!” Ozo yelled, an embarrassed flush now covering his cheeks. Sparten laughed, and he swore that he could also hear Brandon's quiet giggles too.
That conversation fizzled out soon after, now replaced by Ozo's ramblings about the intricacies of ‘Heli-wars’. Sparten didn't pay much mind to it, he preferred other games that involved more sword-fighting.
As he tuned him out, he ended up staring at Brandon. He was… an interesting guy. Sparten was nowhere close to him as Ozo was, but he was still considered a friend.
He was nice. Too nice. Like unusually freakishly nice. Well, at least whenever they hung out in real life he was. Roblox was a whole different story.
Brandon listened to Ozo's ramblings, nodding along and agreeing with whatever he's saying. At the same time, however, he was hungrily feasting on Ozo's lunch.
Now that Sparten was thinking about it… when did Brandon ever bring his own snacks? Usually the friend group would have their own pocket money to use at nearby vending machines, but he had never seen Brandon actively looking at any of those machines. He always stayed behind, awkwardly.
Actually, there were a lot of odd things about Brandon. Of course, Sparten would never say it out loud, but there was always something strange about that guy. It kind of unnerved him a bit.
Like… how last week after Sony had begged him to help him out with a test so he didn't get grounded.
“It's not my fault that they started putting letters in math, I can't even do long division properly! I won't even need to use that when I'm older…” Sony whined.
“It's not even that difficult, stop complaining.” Sparten sighed.
“That sounds really hard…” Brandon patted Sony's back, “I'm glad I don't have to do that kind of math anymore.”
“Hm? What do you mean? I thought you were homeschooled.” Sony said.
“I am, but since my mom isn't around, I don't need to do any schoolwork!” Brandon smiled, “I do kind of miss it though.” His smile now turned a bit more sad, as if he was reminiscing a nostalgic memory.
Sparten's attention peaked at this. While he wasn't well-versed in how homeschooling works… he's sure that isn't allowed. Or legal. “What about your dad? Shouldn't he be teaching you also?” Sparten said.
“He does! He teaches me about God.” Brandon answered.
“... And?”
“Um..” Brandon paused, now a bit muddled, “And… how to be good at—”
“Uugh, you are so lucky, Brandon!” Sony jumped in, “I wish I was homeschooled too! Then I would never have to work again.”
Sparten frowned. “That's not how that works, Sony.”
Brandon let out a forced laugh, “Hah..! I— I guess I am pretty lucky.”
He remembers those times very clearly. He knows a lot of stuff about his friends, actually. Maybe a bit too much, considering the fact it’s gotten to the point where he packs certain things in his bag just for his friends… But, it's just common sense to pack bandages when your friends are going to a skate-park and your friends are Ozo and Sony.
“Here you go!” Brandon’s voice brought Sparten back from reality. Brandon was giving Ozo’s lunchbox back to him. Sparten also noticed that the boy had completely cleaned out the lunchbox despite what felt like only a few minutes passing. Realizing that Sparten had barely contributed to the conversation, he took this opportunity to say something.
“Wow, you must’ve been really hungry.” Sparten pointed out, “Did you skip breakfast again?” He said jokingly. The friend group were no strangers to lighthearted teasing.
Strangely, enough… Brandon didn’t respond right away. In fact, he stood still for a moment as if he had to process what he just heard.
Suddenly, it was like a lightswitch had just turned on.
Brandon gasped. Loudly. A hand was slapped over his mouth as his eyes widened in… panic? Fear?
Ozo immediately furrowed his brows in concern, “Brandon? You okay?” He tried reaching his hand out to comfort his friend, but Brandon quickly stood up, leaving Ozo to retract his hand back.
“I…” Brandon brought his hand down to the cross necklace he always wore, “I forgot— I forgot that I…” The hand clasped around the small, golden cross.
“I’m sorry. Please excuse me—” Brandon rushed out of the room, both Ozo and Sparten watched as he left without any explanation.
Ozo looked a bit distraught over the sudden change in mood. Sparten’s face softened.
“Uh… Ozo?” Sparten called out, “Do you know what just happened?”
The boy frowned, “No. I just… I thought— I thought that things were going fine.” His shoulders slumped, “Why would he just leave like that?”
Sparten sighed, “I don’t know.”
There was a moment of silence as Sparten's words sank in. Ozo's expression darkened, visibly upset. He wouldn't admit it, but he often wore his heart on his sleeve.
Sparten knew he had to do something. He worried too much about the guy to let him worry like this.
“Look, if you’re that worried about it… I could go talk to him later. I was planning on staying a bit late here anyway.” He suggested. It was technically the truth, since he knew he was going to be picked up later than usual. It was also the time where he knew for sure that he could catch Brandon, since he’s known for always staying after-hours to volunteer.
“Really?” Ozo’s eyes brighten up, “You would do that?”
“Yeah—”
“Oh my gosh… Thank you— really.” Ozo felt himself smile again, now more hopeful than before.
Sparten didn’t really get the whole deal. He even felt as if Ozo was being a bit overdramatic about this whole situation, but it was better to deal with this now then having to listen to Ozo nervously ramble about every single thing that Brandon did later.
Whatever.
He would figure this out, regardless of what Brandon’s deal is.