Chapter 3: Bad/Good Idea

AXEL:
I stand by the doorway while the rain drums against the pavement like it’s trying to wear the city down. Neon bleeds off the buildings—too bright to sleep under, but better than last night’s blackout.
Jasper pushes past me without a word.
Mavis skips like she isn’t soaked to the bone already, waving at nothing like the night is watching back.
Mika brings up the rear. Head down. Quiet in that heavy way that makes you feel like something’s about to go wrong, even when nothing has happened yet.
Then I see him.
Mr. Creed stands in the doorway with a cigarette clamped between his lips.
He smiles at me. Just me. Small. Empty. Wrong in a way I can’t explain without feeling stupid for noticing.
My stomach tightens.
I know that smile.
“Axel, move it or lose it,” Mavis calls without looking back.
I don’t answer.
I can’t tell if my feet move first or if I just stop thinking and suddenly I’m following them.
I glance back once.
Creed is already closing the heavy metal door.
Smoke curls around his face like smog.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me until the latch clicks shut.
I wish I could read his mind.
Then I turn and hurry after the others.
“Next stop?” Mavis asks, voice too bright for the weather.
Mika slows slightly, squinting through the rain. He never shields his eyes, like it’s not worth it—like pain is something you’re supposed to stay open to.
“I know a place,” he says.
And starts walking like we already agreed.
So we follow.
We move through alleys that feel too quiet. I walk extra close to Mavis until Mika stops at a rusted gate.
Behind it is a shed. It’s barely standing, roof bent inward like the whole thing wants to lie down.
Jasper groans immediately.
“You can’t be serious.”
I stay back a step, cold creeping into my hands.
“I have a better idea,” Mavis says, already leaning into Mika, looking at him like he’s a young child who doesn’t know any better.
Mika’s face drops, almost disappointed in a way I don’t understand.
“Good,” Jasper says flatly. “What is it?”
Mavis straightens like she’s about to present something brilliant.
“We go across the street to the laundromat.”
She points to it past Jasper.
“Take clean clothes. Dry off and stuff. Then we take some money.”
Her grin sharpens.
“And then—boom—we go to the hotel.”
She throws her hands up for a second before they drop at her sides.
“A win,” she says, like that settles it.
She grabs my shoulder. Pulls me into it.
“We need a win, right, Axel?”
“Yeah,” I answer, trying to match her hype.
Jasper rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t leave. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets like they’re shaking too much and he can’t let anyone know, even though it’s obvious.
Mika watches him.
“Last time we followed you into something like this, I got stitches,” he mutters.
He scuffs his boot into the pavement.
Mika doesn’t say anything. Just looks between the shed and Mavis like he’s already calculating how badly this can go.
Then he exhales and starts walking.
The decision is made.
We cross the street.
Mavis goes first, light on her feet like the cold doesn’t reach her.
Mika follows behind us. Quiet and extra alert, like he’s carrying all the outcomes in his head at once.
His jaw clenched, he’s trying his hardest to not let us see he’s nervous.
He’s already planning exits, already counting blocks, and deciding how to explain failure before it even happens.
Mavis swings the laundromat door open like she’s proud of herself.
My mouth twitches upward before I can stop it. It feels stupid.
Mika catches the door before it slams and eases it shut with his elbow. I am pretty sure he thinks sound is a mistake waiting to happen.
I look around for Jasper. He’s already snuck in and is leaning against the wall.
Inside, everything feels too warm. Not safe—just hollow and nerve-racking. The kind of warm that makes you notice how tired you are.
Mavis drops onto a bench.
I sit next to her closely. Our shoulders brush slightly, and I loosen up a bit. Only a bit, though.
Jasper stays standing for a second longer than necessary before moving closer to Mika, like he does when things seem sketchy or intense.
The worker at the counter looks half-dead—head in his hands, hair hanging over his face like he forgot it exists.
I swallow and look at my hands in my lap.
Mavis nudges me.
Her grin turns sharp again.
“See him?” she whispers. “Distract him. Ask for the bathroom, then clog the toilet.”
I stare at her for a second. Then nod. Quick. Like if I don’t move, I’ll start thinking too hard.
I stand up, and my legs feel stiff.
The worker looks up when I approach. His eyes are foggy. Tired in a way that feels older than him.
“Um,” I say.
My voice comes out smaller than I want.
“Where’s the bathroom?”
I shift my weight side to side.
He barely reacts.
“Down the hall.”
I follow his gesture. The hallway is dim, lit by a weak buzzing light that makes everything feel slightly wrong. At the end, there is a wooden door with metal drilled into it, marked “MEN.”
I hesitate, then push it open.
Inside smells like bleach and mildew. But it’s empty, thank god.
I lock the door behind me anyway, and quietly, even though they already know I’m here.
My mouth twists into a dopey smile. Helping. I’m helping.
I repeat it in my head so it sticks.
I grab handfuls of paper towels. More. More. I stuff them into the toilet until it’s overflowing with white paper and bad decisions.
Once again, I hesitate a moment to pull the lever.
If you wanna sleep somewhere warmer with everyone, just do it.
Come on.
Flush.
It gurgles. Then rises. Then stalls.
I leave before it finishes deciding what to do.
When I return, the worker is already standing. Tired. Annoyed. Moving slow like his bones hurt.
“I think the bathroom’s clogged,” I say.
He groans like the world personally betrayed him and walks off.
I hold my hands together. I hope he also has somewhere warm tonight.
Mavis catches my eye immediately. She gives me a thumbs up. I return it with two.
Across the room, she signals Jasper.
He looks like he’d rather disappear than breathe. Still, he moves.
While the worker is gone, Jasper slides behind the counter. Then opens the register. Shoves cash into his pockets fast, messy, practiced in a way that doesn’t feel like confidence—it feels like panic trying to act normal.
His jaw tightens the whole time. He knows it’s wrong. That’s the part that sticks.
He slams the register shut and steps back like it burned him.
“Go. Hurry,” Mavis hisses.
Jasper opens his mouth—something sharp already loaded—then stops. He pulls his long sleeves down farther. He does that a lot. Maybe a nervous habit?
I watch him for a second too long. Then look away before it turns into something I can’t name.
Mavis is already moving. Clothes in hand.
Mika lingers near the hallway, eyes still checking the bathroom door like he’s counting how long we have before everything collapses again. Cold hits instantly outside. Rain soaks through everything like it’s been waiting.
Jasper gives him a look; Mika returns it.
Mavis presses the clothes to Jasper’s chest.
“Hide them. Don’t get them wet.”
“They’re already gonna get wet,” he snaps back.
“They’ll get less wet,” she fires back.
We start running. Neon ahead. Dark behind.