Freddie ~1

Tess had been staring at the same scuff mark on the floor for what felt like hours.

Ever since she told Cook, her brain had been foggy.She could still hear the way he'd gone quiet on the phone, the way his voice dropped, the click of him hanging up.

That was three weeks ago. Maybe even four. Time blurred when all you did was exist in your own head.

It was all she could think about. Every morning. Every night. In the shower, on the bus, when someone said his name. Was he angry? Was he scared? Did he even care?

Later that night, she'd called Katie. She'd paced her room for a full hour, holding the phone, convincing herself not to.

But she did.

Katie was furious. Her voice sharp, her breath heavy through the phone.

Tess had just sat on the floor of her room, phone pressed to her ear, saying nothing while tears ran down her face.She'd cried for hours. Curled up, blinds drawn, her phone long dead. Even her mum knocked once, but Tess just said she was fine. Of course she did.

Now she was in the waiting room— beside Katie, whose anger had simmered into protectiveness.Tess felt weirdly detached. Like she was watching herself from somewhere slightly above. She hadn't even registered Katie talking until she nudged her shoulder lightly.

"You heard from him?" Katie asked, voice lower now.

Tess shook her head, barely.

"Why don't you contact him then?"

Tess blinked slowly, eyes still fixed on the wall opposite.

"That's not how it works, Katie. He can only call me... and even if I could..." she paused, her voice hollow."I wouldn't want to."

A door opened across the room.

A nurse in lilac scrubs appeared, clipboard in hand.

"Tess?"

She stood, legs heavy, following the nurse into a small, overly bright room — all white walls and shitty blinds that buzzed slightly in the breeze from the vent.

"Just take a seat," the nurse said, gesturing to the two chairs beside the desk.

Tess sat down stiffly. Katie pulled the other chair close without asking, leaning forward slightly like she was ready for a fight.

The nurse slid behind the desk, tapping at the keyboard.

"Full name, please?"

"Teresa Richardson."

A pause. The nurse's eyes squinted slightly at the screen.

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

There it was.

That look. The little twist of her mouth. The tiny lift of an eyebrow. Like she was seeing a statistic, not a person.

"Right," the nurse muttered under her breath. "They keep getting younger and younger..."

"Got a problem, hon?" Katie said, staring down the nurse.

The nurse blinked, startled. "Sorry?"

"You deaf now, as well as rude? I said — got a problem?"

The nurse stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"No? Then maybe stop looking at my friend like she's a mindless whore." Katie hissed

Tess flushed, deep and hot. Her chest tightened with embarrassment — but underneath, something warm curled. Grateful.

The nurse mumbled something that sounded vaguely like an apology, cheeks red now, too. She picked up the pace, clicking into the next screen on the system. Katie just leaned back slightly, lips pressed in a smug little smirk as if to say: You're welcome.

The appointment itself blurred together.

There was a different nurse for the scan — much kinder. She told Tess she was just over thirteen weeks.

They looked at the little shape on the screen. A blob, really. But one with a fluttering heartbeat.

Tess didn't cry. She didn't speak much either. Katie held her hand through most of it.

They talked about options. The ones Tess had already Googled a million times. The nurse explained them gently, asked if she wanted to be referred to someone to talk about it properly. Tess nodded. Not yes, not no — just nodded.

And then it was done. The image printed. A leaflet folded into her jacket pocket. Her brain still somewhere else.

She hadn't made any decisions yet.

Not really.

Because if she did that would make it real.

----

They stepped out of the clinic onto the quiet street.

Katie dramatically sighed. "Jesus. It stank in there."

Tess didn't respond.

Katie kept going, her voice echoing a little too loud, "And that first nurse? What a cow. Like, yeah, I get it, we're young, but you'd think someone in healthcare would learn to keep the judgey vibes to herself."

Still nothing from Tess. Just the quiet thud of her boots against the concrete as they moved on.

Then, finally, softly:"I should get rid of it, shouldn't I?"

Katie froze.Turned. "What — like an abortion?"

Tess didn't meet her eyes. She nodded once, barely.

Katie blinked. "What? I thought— I mean... just now, you didn't say that. You didn't say anything."

Tess shrugged, arms folded tight over her chest. "What else do I do?"

Katie took a beat. Then another. Her voice lowered, gentler. "You could keep it. People do. You're not alone. You've got me, you've got your sister, you've got—"

"Don't say Cook," Tess cut in.

Katie bit her lip. "I wasn't going to. Just saying, maybe talk to him first. That's all. Before you decide something like this."

"No."

Katie frowned. "Tess—"

"It's my decision."

A quiet fell between them again.

"Fine," Katie said, finally. "But... do you want to?"

Tess opened her mouth. Closed it.

She didn't know how to answer.

Because she didn't know if she wanted to keep it.She didn't know if she wanted to lose it.She didn't know anything.

So she just said nothing.

----

Outside the gates, the morning sun stretched across the pavement. JJ was half-sitting, half-sprawled on the bench while Thomas sat in front of him, rhythmically tapping his foot and snapping his fingers.

Thomas had been trying to teach JJ to rap in French, but it had failed miserably.

Tess leaned against the railing beside them, watching with mild amusement. "You two need a new hobby."

"This is my hobby," JJ said proudly. "Salut, étranger!" He puffed out his chest as Freddie cycled toward them.

Thomas nodded. "Hello, stranger."

Freddie hopped off his bike, a little slower than usual, resting it against the fence. "Hey."

He looked tired. Him and Effy had barely been seen outside the Stonem house for days.

JJ smirked. "I thought study was too 2009 for you and Effy."

Tess raised a brow. "Where is she, anyway?"

"She's at home," Freddie said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't feel very well."

Thomas nodded sagely. "Ahh... trop de jiggy jig."

Freddie actually cracked a smile. "Shut up."

JJ leaned forward. "Don't you get bored? Reduced to a mechanism?"

Freddie shot him a look. "You just don't get it, do you, J?"

"Well hallelujah for that."

Thomas stretched, arms behind his head. "Il y a quelqu'un pour chacun."

Tess tilted her head. "What?"

JJ translated with a smug smile. "There is someone for everyone."

Tess looked at him, impressed. "Wow. You're getting better"

JJ grinned. "My French is not flawless."

Freddie checked his phone. "Right, I gotta go. Got a meeting with Mr Love — 'interim educational intervention' or whatever the hell it's called."

Tess groaned. "You too? I've got him today as well."

Freddie raised his eyebrows. "Didn't know you were in trouble, Tess."

Tess smirked. "I'm not. Just academically disinterested."

JJ shook his head. "I heard he power-hosed Dylan Simpson for forging sick notes."

"You could plead possible sexual OCD interfering with your study." He added

Freddie gave him a look, then laughed. "I'll bear that in mind, J. See ya later."

As Freddie hopped on his bike and rode off, Tess watched him go, expression unreadable.

Then — a familiar voice piped up.

"What are you staring at?"

Pandora, walking past, gave Thomas a side-eye as she adjusted her backpack.

Thomas's eyes followed her sadly as she walked past them.

Thomas stared after her a beat longer, then jumped off the bench. "I'll catch you guys later."

JJ watched him go, then turned to Tess. "Do you think love just turns people mad?"

Tess didn't answer. She was still looking off in the direction Freddie had gone.

JJ rocked back on his heels. "I mean, you'd know. Because of Cook. Right?"

Tess let out a short laugh through her nose, "Yeah, sometimes."

JJ pressed on. "It's just... I don't get it. I really don't. Freddie's off the map, Cook's literally in jail, Effy's all... I don't even know what's going on with Effy. And I'm just... here. Watching everyone get dragged further and further away."

He paused, suddenly deflating a little. "I feel like I've been left behind."

Tess softened. "Hey. You'll never stop being their best friend, JJ. Things are just... changing. Even if we don't want them to."

He looked at her, eyes a little glassy now.

"You and Cook... are you still in touch? Or—" He said, rubbing his neck.

."...Yeah," she said quietly.

JJ narrowed his eyes. "Really? Because the last time I spoke to him, he didn't say anything. Not even a Tess did this or Tess said that. Which is suspicious, because he unfortunately never shuts up about you."

"Weird," She replied dryly

JJ stared at her. "That is weird. He always talks about you. So unless he suddenly developed impulse control in prison—which, let's be honest, isn't very likely,"

He paused.

His eyes narrowed more.

"...What aren't you telling me?"

Tess shifted her weight, arms crossed. Looked everywhere but him.

JJ leaned in slightly. "Tess."

She hesitated. Then finally, very low:

"We... saw each other. Before he handed himself in."

JJ blinked. "Saw each other?"

She gave him a look.

JJ's mouth dropped. "Oh...Oh!"

He leaned back like he'd just been hit with a revelation. "Oh my god."

Tess winced. "Don't—"

"No. No. You—you guys hooked up before he went in?!"

Tess let out a sigh. "JJ—"

JJ threw his hands up. "Unbelievable. Un-be-liev-a-ble. And here I thought I was up to date! Nobody tells me anything around here and I-"

"J!" Tess raised her voice, "I'm trying to tell you something."

JJ froze mid-ramble, hands still half in the air. "Okay. Okay."

Tess looked at him for a long second, then let the words drop like a stone. "I'm pregnant."

There was silence.

JJ blinked. "With—"

She nodded. "Yeah."

JJ flailed his hands in the air. "You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding. No—you're not kidding. You're not kidding."

His jaw dropped, a sudden realisation. "YOU'RE HAVING COOK'S BABY?!"

"Would you not yell it to the whole fucking school?!"

JJ shook his head intensely, "This is—okay. Okay. Shit. Shit. Shitification! HOW did this happen—I mean was this a one-time thing? A goodbye thing? A sentimental shag? Do you have a plan? Oh my god, does he know? Does Cook know?!"

Tess blinked. "JJ, you're getting locked on."

He looked at her, eyes wide and intense. "This is big. This is massive. And he's not even here, he's—he's in prison. What's gonna happen?... And what about school!? Your A levels, everything I-"

Tess let out a breath. "I don't know. Not yet."

JJ kept going. "I mean, does this mean you're going to wait for him? What if he's in there for ages? What if the baby develops a swearing problem by age of three and an emotional dependency on chocolate digestives."

"JJ!"

He looked up.

She softened a little. "You need to stop, ok? For my sake please. It's gonna be alright, so please... just calm down." Tess said, unsure of herself.

JJ exhaled loudly. "I can do that. I can absolutely do that."

They sat there for a second longer, quiet, until JJ finally said:

"...It's really Cook's?"

Tess gave him a look.

"Right, yeah," JJ said, hands up. "Stupid question."

----

Tess lingered outside the door for a moment, glancing over her shoulder to make sure JJ was still breathing and hadn't passed out from emotional overload. He gave her a dramatic thumbs up from down the corridor—still in shock, but upright.

Her stomach was in knots. Everything felt like it was closing in—JJ knew now, and the words were out there. Real. The reality of it sat heavy on her chest. She wasn't ready to deal with this on top of it all. But she had no choice.

She knocked.

For a few seconds: silence.

Then a sharp voice from within. "What are you waiting for? Come in!"

The voice was clipped and theatrical.

She stepped inside, blinking at how... sterile the room looked. It was weirdly spotless. Just a desk, a pristine whiteboard, and a poster of Michael Jackson staring down at her from the centre, surrounded by laminated inspirational quotes in varying fonts. "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." and "Discipline is freedom."

T. Love sat with his back to her.

"Teresa," he said.

"It's Tess," she replied, already regretting the next ten minutes of her life.

"Why don't you sit down, Teresa."

She lowered herself into the seat across from him, barely touching the backrest. The second she did, he turned around slowly in his chair, inspecting her like he was trying to line her up with something.

"A little to the left, please."

"...What?"

He motioned with one hand, not even looking her in the eye. She stared for a second, then shuffled her chair slightly.

He held up a hand, stopping her like he was directing traffic.

"So," he said, finally focusing on her. "I see you haven't taken Professor Blood's warnings seriously."

"Guess not," Tess muttered, arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm told the psychology coursework is late. And some English on top of that."

She hadn't even started any of it. She hadn't had the energy. There just wasn't room in her head anymore—not for coursework, not for revision, not for anything that didn't involve trying to keep herself upright without spiralling. Between Cook being gone, the pregnancy, hiding it from everyone, the constant fear pressing down on her like a weight—she couldn't concentrate. Not on school. Not on anything.

"In fact," T. Love went on, plucking a sheet of paper from his desk with her name on it, "I'm told everything you do is late. And do you know what late means for you, Teresa?"

She didn't answer.

He slowly slid a piece of paper into a shredder. It hissed to life, slicing through sharply.

"That's your life right there."

She watched the last corner vanish, her stomach curling a little, because honestly? It did kind of feel like that.

"You have until Monday to complete it. Can you do that?"

Tess shifted in her seat. "Err... I'll try."

His chair jolted forward suddenly.

"Try? ...What would Michael say?"

Tess blinked. "Sorry?"

"Michael. What would he say?"

She stared at him. "I'm... bad?"

"Yes. And what else?"

"...Beat it?"

"No!" he barked, slapping the desk for emphasis. "He'd say Gotta Be Startin' Somethin'."

He stared at her like that was supposed to spark something transformational in her soul.

She nodded slowly. "Right."

"Do you think this is a joke?" he snapped.

"What? No. No, of course not."

"Good."

He spun back around in his chair, facing the whiteboard again like he was meditating.

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, voice softer but still pointed.

"Don't you think you should be leaving?"

Tess stood up, slightly dazed. "Right now?"

"Yes." The man said, like it was obvious.

She walked out of the room in a fog, the last few minutes clinging to her like static. Somewhere behind her, Michael Jackson watched from his poster like he approved.

----

Tess stepped out into the corridor, squinting slightly at the sudden brightness of the overhead lights.

Naomi and JJ were standing by the lockers, mid-bicker, JJ gesturing with too much energy, Naomi shaking her head.

Tess stopped a few paces away, watching them with tired amusement. She didn't even need to say anything—Naomi clocked her immediately and cut off mid-eye-roll.

Her expression softened. "How was it?"

Tess gave her a look. "What do you think?"

Naomi winced sympathetically. "That bad, huh?"

Tess shrugged. "He has a Michael Jackson shrine. I wish I was joking."

JJ let out a weird little laugh that died in his throat halfway through, like he'd forgotten he wasn't supposed to be acting normal. He glanced between them too quickly, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders all hunched like he was trying to fold himself away.

Tess noticed instantly.

"Can you not act like you've just witnessed a murder?" she muttered to him under her breath.

"What? I'm normal," JJ said, voice too high. "Completely normal. Very casual. Nothing weird happening here."

Naomi frowned. "Are you alright?"

JJ nodded. Too fast. "Fine. She's fine. We're all fine. Right, Tess?"

Tess shot him a look that could've sliced metal. "JJ."

He flinched a little. Naomi blinked at both of them, visibly weirded out.

"Right... well." Naomi's voice shifted, suddenly cool, like she could sense the undercurrent she wasn't part of. "I'll leave you to... whatever that is."

She turned and walked away without waiting for a reply, tugging her headphones down from around her neck as she went, retreating back into her own bubble. Tess watched her go.

She wasn't back to normal. Neither was Emily. Not really. Not since the Sophia thing. Last year, Naomi would've been one of the first people Tess told. Not even out of some grand trust thing, just because... that was how it used to be. Easy. Immediate.

She hadn't told her this time. Not because she didn't want to. They just weren't like that anymore.

Tess swallowed, her chest tightening slightly.

She missed her.

Missed the way she used to be—wild and opinionated and warm underneath it all, before everything twisted and cracked at the edges. Before it all went cold.

She turned back to JJ, who was still trying to look inconspicuous and failing in every way possible.

"You can't do that again," she said quietly.

JJ blinked. "What?"

"You can't act like that. You can't say anything. To anyone. I mean it."

He straightened up a little. "I wouldn't. I won't. I swear."

Tess gave him a long look, searching for any hint of wobble. But he nodded, more seriously this time.

"Alright," she muttered.

And for now, that would have to do.

-----

COOK POV:

Cook didn't go to breakfast.

Didn't even sit up.

Just lay on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it might crack open and swallow him whole.

It was already hot — the kind of thick, stale air that clung to your skin. The pillow underneath him felt like it'd been soaked in sweat and regret. Classic combo.

His eyes kept flicking up. To the photo of Tess.

Pushed into the pinboard above his bed, right between a crumpled photo of him and Freddie and a dumb sketch someone else did of a dick. There she was — grinning sideways at the camera like she hadn't meant to smile but did anyway. Arms folded, eyes sharp. His girl. Or... she had been.

Now she was just a face on the wall, looking down at him like she knew. Like the image itself was judging him, reminding him what he'd done. What they'd done.

She was pregnant.

Tess. Pregnant.

His stomach twisted. A bitter, coiling knot. His chest went tight — panic or guilt or both. He turned over suddenly and shoved his face into the pillow, letting out a low, muffled growl like he could force it all back down his throat and bury it under the mattress.

How the fuck did this happen?

No. He knew how. He wasn't that thick. But when?

He sat up fast, pushed his hands through his hair like he could dig the answer out of his scalp.

When did they last—

And then it hit him

He remembered bringing Paddy over, the little maniac. Tess had looked at him like he was insane, like she couldn't believe he was dragging a kid through her front door, and yet... she still let them in. Still let it happen. Because that's who she was. Annoyed and exhausted and always there anyway.

And after Paddy was out, after things quieted down, she'd sat beside him on that couch with that look. Not angry anymore. Just tired. Soft. She'd told him he had to stop — stop with the chaos, stop with the madness, just stop.

He didn't say anything. Just looked at her.

And then she kissed his cheek.

Not like that. Not a come-on. Just a comfort. But after that — after that, it all exploded. Their eyes met, and it was like something snapped open. Like pressure finally gave way.

He remembered her breath hitching. His heart racing. Her hands in his hair, his hands on her waist. Like instinct. Like muscle memory.

They were both a bit stoned — a couple spliffs each — but not out of it. Not enough to excuse what they did. What they didn't do.

No protection. Didn't even think about it.

He knew he wasn't the smartest, right? Never claimed to be some genius. But even he couldn't believe he forgot something so basic. So fucking obvious.

But Tess?

Tess was smart. Way smarter than him. She didn't just stumble into shit. So how had she let it happen too?

He wasn't angry at her. Not really.Just angry that everything felt so fucking inevitable.

He forced himself to lie back again, breathing heavily, eyes landing on the photo.

Pregnant.

That word didn't feel real. Felt like it belonged to someone else. Some adult in a drama he'd accidentally wandered into.

Except it was his drama.His mistake.His fucking kid.

He laughed. Or tried to. It came out rough and bitter and ended in a gag. "What the fuck, man..."

He was supposed to be a dad now?

Him?

He could barely look after himself, let alone a baby.

But that thought... that tiny little "what if" crept in anyway. Slithered under the anger.

What if he could do it?

Be better?

Better than his own dad, at least. That wasn't a high bar. That bastard set the record for failure. Maybe he wouldn't be great, but he wouldn't fuck off...at least he wanted to believe that. He wouldn't scare the kid or leave them guessing or make them feel small.

Maybe he could do something right for once.

But then he thought of her.

Of Tess. Alone in that bathroom, scared out of her mind, probably crying.

And him?

Stuck in this fucking box, with grey walls, plastic trays and buzzing lights that never fucking turned off.

He couldn't help her.

Couldn't even hold her hand.

Couldn't tell her how he felt, because fuck — he didn't even know how he felt.

They weren't even together. Not really. Not anymore. They'd fucked that up too.

All summer — they'd been on and off, round and round, pretending it didn't matter when it clearly fucking did.

But they'd gotten back to something. A friendship. A rhythm.

Then that night happened.

And now he'd gone quiet the second she told him. Frozen like a coward. And she probably thought he'd run. Like everyone else had.

That thought made something burn behind his eyes.

Because he hadn't run.He'd stopped.

That felt even worse.

He was stuck in this cell, stuck in this silence, stuck in this fucking version of himself that felt like it was drowning.

Instead, he just lay there. Useless. A photo above his head. A word in his chest. A storm in his head.

Cook rolled over again, buried his face into the sweat-soaked pillow, and stayed that way.

Didn't move.Didn't sleep.

He needed to get out.

Before he lost his fucking mind.