“This behavior is unacceptable.” Rosaire’s voice came low and icy, the anger practically seeping from it. His spiritual power still pulsed through his veins, retaining the glowing blade in his hands along with the golden wings unfurled behind him. They shielded Wiley, hiding him protectively from the other boys. “Your actions show a complete and utter disregard for the Holy Principles. Such shameful acts will not be tolerated.”

“You know he’s a half-blood, right?” one of the boys pointed out. “Don’t the Holy Principals also state that it's the duty of the individual to eradicate evil?” His gaze had grown almost murderous. “And believe me, those Corrupted fuckers are as evil as they come.”

Sounds of agreement erupted from the other boys, echoing loudly through the forest. 

From behind him, Rosaire felt Wiley lightly tug at the hem of his jacket. “It’s not worth it,” he whispered softly. “Just let it go.”

“No,” Rosaire shot back, ruffling at the mere thought. “Under no circumstance will I abandon my principles.” His icy gaze returned to the boys, his lip curling. “Regardless of your reasoning, cruelty towards others will always be in violation of the Holy teachings. Because of this, you’ve left me no choice but to formally report you to the headmaster.” Once he’d made this declaration, Rosaire turned to Wiley, his voice still tight with anger as his sword and wings dissolved into the air. “Come. We’re leaving.”

Rosaire had thought Wiley would instantly take off at the first chance of escape. As the future His Holiness turned to leave however, Wiley remained strangely frozen in place. Rosaire’s chest tightened and his hand shot out, grabbing Wiley’s arm to pull the other boy after him. Wiley winced at the contact, letting out a small hiss of pain. Slowly, Rosaire looked down, his eyes going wide as he found his fingers coated in blood.

Wiley was still bleeding from where the first stone had struck him. The knowledge made Rosaire’s desperation to get him out of there only grow. He swallowed hard, carefully releasing Wiley’s wounded arm and grabbing hold of his hand instead. Wiley tensed in surprise at the sudden contact, his eyes widening ever so slightly. A heartbeat later, Wiley’s fingers relaxed beneath his own and Rosaire took off running, pulling Wiley after him.

Rosaire picked up his speed and soon they were racing through the forest, leaving the pack of teenagers far behind. The wind lashed against their skin as they ran, trees flying past them and their hair whipping wildly around their faces. From beneath his hand, Rosaire felt Wiley’s fingers shift, spreading out before lacing tightly with his own. The sensation caused Rosaire’s breath to catch and he at last brought them to a screeching halt. 

They’d ended up in a clearing, a sea of milkweed surrounding them on all sides, swaying back and forth in the wind as if they were the gentle waves of an ocean. Wisps of the milkweed’s silky white tufts had caught in the breeze, swirling around them like snow. 

Both boys’ chests were heaving, faces flushed with sweat glistening on their brows.

Rosaire instantly yanked his hand away, violently wrenching his fingers from Wiley’s. “Why didn’t you run away?” 

Wiley blinked. “Hm?”

“You said you were handling it,” Rosaire elaborated, his voice oddly strained. “So why did you just stand there and let them treat you that way?” 

“You saw the whole thing?” Wiley’s eyes narrowed. “Were you...stalking me?” 

“I was just...” Rosaire stammered, his changing voice cracking into a humiliating prepubescent squeak. “I was concerned.”

Wiley’s gaze went ice cold. “Well, your concern is patronizing.”

“I’m sorry.” Rosaire’s shoulders stiffened, a shameful flush spreading across his cheeks. “I didn’t want to get involved. I just...you’d been hurt and they weren’t going to stop and I just…I know how fast you are. So why...” As always, he found himself at a loss for words when it came to Wiley. All he could do was helplessly repeat the question. “Why didn’t you run away?” 

Wiley let out a low exhale, his expression finally softening. “Because it's easier if they think I’m weak.” Sunset had begun to overtake the sky, staining the world in warm scarlet light. It caught in Wiley’s ruffled hair, framing his face in a halo of gold. “Just have a little faith in me, alright?” Wiley continued. “When I said I was handling it, I meant it. I just need a little more time.” 

Rosaire’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“Just wait three more days and I’ll show you.” Wiley winked, his hands slipping into his pockets as he turned to leave. “I promise, it’s going to be quite the show.” A grin spread across his face, his eyes narrowing playfully as he glanced back over his shoulder. “I hope you decide to come. It’ll be way more fun if you’re watching.”