The Past

Rosaire shot to his feet. Whipping around, he made a blind grab for Wiley, but the boy darted out of his reach. A bright smile played over his face, clearly pleased he’d gotten Rosaire to take the bait.

Rosaire frantically lunged for him again but Wiley was gone in a flash. With a frustrated huff, Rosaire spun around, and promptly found himself nose-to-nose with him, that obnoxious smile still plastered across his face.

Rosaire’s hand lunged forward towards his collar and Wiley instantly ducked, leaving Rosaire’s fingers grasping at air.

A stream of giggles revealed where he’d escaped to and Rosaire spun around once more.

“Gotta be faster than that if you want to drag me out!” Wiley winked as he danced backward.

With his typical restraint shattered by the unmitigated force that was Wiley, Rosaire found himself dashing after him.

Wiley was almost incomprehensibly fast, his hair whipping around his face as he sped towards Rosaire’s bed. Rosaire swerved to the other side, rushing at him in a desperate attempt to cage the other boy between the wall and his bed frame. With Rosaire’s target finally in reach, he desperately lunged forward only for Wiley to abruptly veer out of the way.

Rosaire’s eyes went wide in shock, realizing with a start that with Wiley’s body no longer there to hide it, he’d flung himself directly towards one of the columns of his four poster bed. It was far too late to stop however, and his momentum soon sent him slamming face-first into the unforgiving wood.

A loud smack rang through the air, immediately followed by Wiley’s wild laughter. 

Rosaire’s face twisted in anger, and despite the throbbing in his temple, he rushed at Wiley once more. Wiley looked thrilled and abruptly threw himself onto the bed, using his hands to propel himself over it. For a brief moment he was suspended in the air, all red hair and laughter, before his feet slammed down on the floor. 

Caught up in frustration and exhilaration, Rosaire did the unthinkable. He allowed his feet to hit the bed as well. Rosaire bounced once before leaping off of it, throwing himself towards Wiley.  The jump sent him flying through the air and directly onto Wiley’s back. Before the other boy even had a chance to rip himself free, Rosaire quickly grabbed hold of the back of his collar. With a huff, he pulled him towards the door and roughly shoved him through it.

The boys were panting as they stared at one another across the threshold. Their hair and clothes were a mess; their faces flushed. Being in such a disheveled state may have been a normal occurrence for Wiley, but Rosaire had never once been so discomposed. 

With his mind at last clearing from the angry blur, Rosaire came back to reality as if a bucket of freezing water had just been dumped on his head.  How had he allowed himself to participate in such childish nonsense? His behavior just now had been utterly shameful. Frantically he moved to smooth down his clothes, forcing his expression to one of repose. 

Wiley did nothing to fix his appearance, simply plopping himself down on the floor and crossing his legs beneath him. “Not bad, not bad,” he complimented between pants. 

“I am going to close the door now,” Rosaire frostily replied.

Wiley’s eyes crinkled. “But if you do that then we can’t keep talking.”

“Precisely.” 

And with that, he slammed the door.

Exhausted from the running, Rosaire slumped against it, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. He expected that to be the end of it, but he suddenly heard the soft thud of a back hitting the other side. 

Rosaire’s brow twitched in annoyance. Was Wiley seriously leaning against his door? 

“Aren’t you curious why I did it?” Wiley’s voice sounded, muffled from behind the mahogany separating them. 

“The marbles, you mean?” Rosaire found himself asking despite himself. 

A quiet, “mhm,” sounded from the other side of the door. A long silence followed before Wiley murmured, “You looked lonely.”

Rosaire bristled at the sheer audacity of the statement. 

“Well, I’m not,” he replied coldly. 

“Really? Because your expression says otherwise.”

Rosaire blinked. “My...expression...?”

“Yeah.” A light bump sounded, and Rosaire imagined Wiley had let his head fall back to rest against the door. “Your mouth is always curving downward, you’re constantly creasing the space between your brows, and you almost never make eye contact.” He let out a small, satisfied huff. “You’re pretty easy to read.”

“Incorrect. I am absolutely not lonely,” Rosaire repeated through gritted teeth. “And even if I was, I would rather be alone than engage with someone as outrageous as you.” 

A long silence followed his declaration. 

“Sorry,” came the muffled voice from the other side. “My mistake then.”

For some reason the words made Rosaire’s chest tighten. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “You know...you wouldn’t be as outrageous if you simply chose to act properly.”

He could practically feel Wiley’s smirk through the door. “And how would I do that?”

“Follow the Holy Principles,” Rosaire dutifully instructed. “Don’t cause trouble, always put morality above your humanly desires, dedicate yourself to prayer--”

He stopped as a loud snort of laughter sounded from behind the door. 

Rosaire’s expression hardened. “I’m sorry. Was something I said funny?”

“I’m not praying,” Wiley said. “Never.”

Rosaire’s heart skipped a beat at the words. “You have to,” he quickly explained. “Your soul can’t enter the Spirit Realm if you don’t.”

The statement was followed by an explosion of laughter. The sound paired with the reason for it made Rosaire’s skin crawl.

Despite the sudden bout of giggling, when Wiley spoke again his voice was monotone. “I prayed for my parents during the Great Banishment. Guess how that turned out.” A muffled rustle came from behind the door and it sounded as if he was rising to his feet. “Besides, I’m a half-blood Corrupted, remember? No amount of praying can ever save me from where I’m going in the end.” 

“That’s not true,” Rosaire protested. “Everyone has a chance at salvation. Pray with me, just once. I’ll show you!”

Frantically he threw open the door only to find the hallway completely empty. 

Rosaire let out a low exhale, suddenly becoming aware of the weight of something resting deep within his pocket. Absently, his hand slipped inside, fingers curling around the smooth surface of the sky-blue marble resting there. 

The one time he didn’t want him to go and Wiley had already left without a word.