Whenever a door opens, each time he walks into a new classroom, every time a glint of platinum hair catches his eye, Nick’s attention scatters. For the rest of the day he has been rendered useless, all by the sight of one blond boy with a bloody grin. In fact, during the entirety of his first class, he found himself sketching and re-sketching those sleepy blue eyes, paying close attention to their upward slant.
Despite his newfound hyper-awareness, halfway through the school day Nick has yet to see his new muse.
“Whoa,” the voice above him has haunted him since his first class, “That’s really good,” a jovial slap to the shoulder, the kid’s face hovers too close his own, “I had no idea you were an artist. It’s great to have more...creative peeps around here. Too many of our class are the jock types, if you will. Aggression runs high here.”
Nick perks up, “So, I guess that explains the fight I witnessed this morning.”
“Oh yea,” Justin--at least, he thinks his name is Justin--rolls his eyes, “That happens more often than it should.”
“Huh. So I haven’t seen them since this morning.”
“Yea and you won’t until tomorrow. Fighting is an automatic three day suspension, however, typically they only enforce a day, that way there's a cool off period without any academic disparity.”
“How accommodating,” he shrugs, returning his attention to his drawing, curiosity satisfied. Strangely, he feels relieved by this news. Some part of him relaxes.
“Well, technically, if they have ten total suspension days, they’re expelled for good. Let’s just say a few of them are on a countdown. Enough talk about that, though. C’mon, I’ll walk you to your next class.”
Reluctantly, Nick gathers his things, not bothering to shove them into his backpack. “You know, you don’t have to escort me to my classes. I’m pretty sure I can make it fine on my own.”
“Ah,” Justin’s kind brown eyes crinkle in the corners as he gives a smile, “I’m sure you could but the student council has decided it’s best for new students to have a few days of peer support. I can answer your questions, give you some history, introduce you to people--including girls,” he wags his eyebrows, “It’ll help you fit in faster.”
Feeling like a leashed house cat, Nick offers a tight smile before following Justin to his next class.
~*~
Exhaustion rounds his shoulders as he walks through his front door. Every ounce of social energy he walked into school with has been officially drained, his ‘peer support’ buddy the primary leech. A nice enough kid, sure, but not exactly his preferred company.
“John,” he calls through the house.
No response.
A sigh of relief parts his lips as he makes his way to the kitchen. Coffee pot percolating, mac’n’cheese in the microwave, Nick strips down to sweats and a t-shirt as he pulls out his laptop, determined to put some proverbial ink on the page.
Hours later, a noise akin to a growl slips from Nick’s lips. No matter how many ways he types the words, it just doesn’t sound right.
The clock on his bedside table reads 04:30am. School looms just around the corner. He knows there’s no use in sleeping now, he’ll only wake up in a monstrous mood. Instead he closes his eyes and takes himself back to those woods, envisioning the blood smeared, smiling face of the blond boy…
Finally, when he sets his fingers to his keyboard, the pictures from his mind flow through him, his body but a conduit.
In an almost feverish state, Nick breaks the surface of reality. 06:24am. Reluctantly, he drags himself away from his laptop to his closet. One thing about school uniforms, it saves time on deciding what to wear. School spirit in place, he trudges to the kitchen, slowing slightly as he passes his uncle’s office. At some point in the night, Nick vaguely remembers hearing the front door but paid it no mind. Narrowly ajar, Nick peeks in, all he can see is a shiny black shoe off the side of a worn love seat, half empty bottle of bourbon on the corner of his desk.
Everything in its rightful place, Nick completes his journey to the kitchen. Coffee pot set to ‘strong’ he listens as it percolates. The sound is soothing, familiar, one of the only constants in his life. Sad, he thinks, that one’s closest companion is a coffee maker that has somehow survived near twelve years of perpetual use.
Still, it’s never let him down.
~*~
At this moment in time, Nick finds himself to be in the ‘euphoric’ stage of sleeplessness. Everything is hilarious. Example: a girl taking the steps and talking to her companions, trips, drops her drink, and sits her ass on a step. Nick can’t help but laugh, loudly. This indiscretion earns him nasty looks from her friends, which somehow makes him laugh more.
Call it a bridge burned.
Euphoria aside, Nick finds his eyes darting through the halls in search of his newfound muse. Surely a school this size, they will have classes together.
“Good morning,” Justin appears beside him, his bright eyes alarming at this time of day, “Dude, you look like you haven’t slept. You alright?”
“Fantastic.”
Disappointed, Nick starts in the direction of his first class when someone else appears at his side.
“I hear you’re an artist,” Jerry begins, “We could use an artist in the drama department. I wrote your name down.”
“Who told you that,” he stammers, caught off guard.
Jerry looks around him, staring down Justin. “A little bird.”
Giving Justin a sharp look, he continues his walk. Art is not his passion but a gift he was given. He has no interest in using said gifts for others, in his mind it is simply a way for him to develop his characters, to give physical form to what otherwise would simply be words. Then again… if Jerry is the blond boy’s sister, this may be a door opening before him, a door he has no choice but to step through.
“What do you need?”
“Well,” she steps in front of him, walking backwards as she speaks, “We have some backdrops we’re working on. You could be helpful.”
“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles.
“Great.” She turns on her heel and takes a left, quickly disappearing into the ever moving student body.
“So…” Justin drags out the word as they approach Nick’s classroom, “I hope it’s okay that I told her. We’ve been looking for someone to do the painting for a while. There’s this one chick who’s really good but she’s like religiously opposed to 'commercial art' to use her word choice.”
“I don’t care,” he says, “I’ll see you after class.”
Once planted in his seat, Nick retrieves his notebook on which he creates his characters, turning to the page with sleepy, slanted eyes peering up at him. Someone takes the seat beside him, just as the teacher closes the door. It only takes a moment for him to recognize the guy as the friend whom was escorted away with the blond boy yesterday. Realizing he’s been staring for too long, he quickly looks away.
Too late, the auburn haired boy turns toward him with a quirked brow.
“I don’t know you,” he says with a grin, green eyes sparkling mischievously, “I’m Seth.”
He extends his hand, eyes never leaving Nick’s face.
Cautiously, Nick accepts the offer. “Nick, it’s my second day.”
“Cool. Where are you from,” he leans back in his chair, looking far too comfortable for the desks they’re subjected to.
“Everywhere. We move around a lot.”
“Ah, who’s we?”
“Me and my uncle.”
“No siblings?”
“Nope. Just me,” Nick leans back, trying to mimic Seth’s relaxed posture.
“I get that. I’m an only child, too. Most people here have like, a thousand siblings. My best friend alone has seven. Crazy.”
Up front, their teacher knocks a gavel against his desk to gain the attention of the class. Perfect, considering this is a political science class. Coincidence, he thinks not.
“You sit with anyone at lunch?” Seth says under his breath, leaning across the space between them.
For a moment, Nick is taken aback by those green eyes as they look up at him from beneath long dark lashes. A breath catches in his throat, butterflies flapping against the lining of his stomach, surely turning him a fair shade of green.
“Uh, no, I’ve been eating with Justin, so…”
“Fuck, dude, you need a real tour of this school and Justin is not the one to give it to you,” Seth shakes his head, his perfect teeth gleaming. “Lunch with me and my friends, you won’t regret it.”
Seth turns his attention to the front of the class and Nick’s attention is, again, rendered useless.
--
Ever since finding himself an unwilling witness to the teeth clashing wolves, Reuben finds himself jumpy as he walks through the dark halls of The Academy. It’s strange, he can feel his true nature hovering in the back of his mind but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot access his abilities. Typically he would be able to pick up on the subtle desires of those around him, smell a small open cut from yards away, hear the whispers of gossiping witches on the floor above him but here… all is quiet.
So this is what mortality feels like.
Once he’s taken a seat in his first class, he takes the time to peer around the room. Not one person stands out to him as a witch, vampire, wolf, gnome, or anything supernatural. The wards do their job well. Notebook in place on his desk, he begins sketching the boy he saw in the woods, starting with his eyes…
“Hey,” a cheerful voice says suddenly from behind him. He turns to see lamp-like green eyes staring at him intensely. “I’m Simeon. What’s your name?”
“Reuben,” he responds quietly, suspicious of the boy’s intentions.
“Nice to meet you Reuben,” he grins, dare he think, wolfishly, “So that little tiff you saw in the woods earlier… I hope you realize we saw you, too.”
Ice trickles through Reuben’s veins, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. He knew he’d been seen. They’d probably smelled him a mile away.
“Was it your white-haired friend who spotted me?” he inquired after clearing the frog from his throat.
A low chuckle passes from Simeon’s deeply pink lips, though Reuben doesn’t understand the humor, “No, but I did. We have to look out for one another. We’re very protective of our own.” Simeon’s eyes grow dark but only for a moment, like the light inside of him flickered.
“I won’t say anything to anyone… I have no reason to.”
“Of course you don’t,” Simeon says quietly, “You should eat with us tonight. You know, since we’re already familiar.” Simeon winks a bright green eye and rubs his tongue across his teeth.
“I would be happy to,” he replies with as much confidence as he can muster, he read somewhere that dogs can smell fear. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“My pleasure.”
Simeon turns his attention to the front of the class. But when Reuben turns around, he can’t help but feel the heat of those green eyes boring into his spine.
--
Comments (0)
See all