┝ scαρєɡσαϯ ┥

[Miss Bickies]

This is a private role play between Eva Kuran and d r ii BONES.
Reading is welcomed, but please do not post here.
Thank you.

[Miss Bickies]

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q υ ɩ ɳ ɳ . ɱ c ɩ ɳ т ʏ ɾ є
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“We interrupt this broadcast for some breaking news. Police were called to the Centennial Stadium where the body of a male student was found in the batting cage. They have not yet released details about the state of the body or the individual’s identity; we will update you once we hear back from our corres-”

Click.

Another body, huh...

The dark-skinned male sighed as he stood from his bed, stretching his arms and back. Well, it was that time again; time for him to get ready for the day ahead. After double checking that he turned off his clock-radio, he slipped into the bathroom to have a shower. At least the water would help to wake him up; if not, he would bring some tea to school, just in case

Quinn was one of those high school students that always arrived early, not wanting to risk being late to class. He rarely showed up late; the teachers knew, if he did, that something important must have happened. Other than that, he always managed his time well; you had to when you were a senior.

Shower's done, time to get dressed.

High school was, however, a rumour mill. With these mysterious murders only increasing in occurrence, the students were quick to try to deconstruct the conspiracy. Who was doing, why were they doing it, when would it happen again, who was the next target...

Quinn, however, was more focused on his life and schoolwork than these questions, although he did ponder about them sometimes. His brother, however, was more worried about them than he was.

"Another body? Wow, I can't believe the government still hasn't initiated a warning about this..." he grumbled, sipping from his mug of coffee as he stared at the television screen. "They should be helping us, not leaving us in the dark..."

The younger male sighed, "You have to understand where they're coming from, though. No evidence has been found, there are no suspects or even the slightest hint towards one... Kevin, it's nearly impossible to point fingers right now and ask the government to do something. Yes, they can initiate a warning, but what good is it if they don't know what's going on? They seem to be random attacks too, so it's hard to tell who's being targeted..."

Kevin grumbled, "I know, but it still ticks me off... Anyway, you better eat and head off to school. You have that bus to catch..."

"I have plenty of time, don't worry."

Quinn ate his breakfast and got his things ready, triple checking that he had everything before he waved to Kevin and left the apartment to head down the stairs to leave the complex. He then started to make the walk towards the bus stop ahead, putting his headphones into his ears to listen to music,

The student lived with his older brother, away from his problematic parents. It was not that they were that abusive or neglected towards him; their expectations were just becoming way too extravagant and unrealistic for him to handle. They were also close-minded when it came to his future and his life choices, so he moved into his brother's apartment to get away from the constant criticism.

Though, Kevin was the 'favourite' of the family, and this often left Quinn out of the picture.

Quinn looked up from his phone to see the bus pulling in, waiting patiently for the doors to open before he stepped into it and swiped his pass. Oh, this is a good day; there was actually a seat for him to sit on.

The bus took half an hour to get to his school. Once it arrived, Quinn thanked the driver and stepped off, heading down the leaf-covered path to reach the stairs and the double doors leading into the facility. Stepping inside, he started walking up the stairs to the third floor, finding his locker at the outer end of the set of three next to a doorway.

Hardly anyone was here, the calm before the storm. As Quinn fiddled with his lock, however, he knew that the news of another body would spark much conversation at school today... and rumours.

[d r ii BONES]

A I D E N

All he was aware of was the stink of his own terror. It filled him up, cloying and cold and gripping, sizzling down every nerve ending. He was certain he was going die, become a corpse before he’d even reached his majority; his skin was already slick with cooling blood, but it wasn’t all his, now was it? The smell of copper was utterly nauseating, and coupled with the cold horror in his gut it was no surprise that his stomach was ready to revolt. They’d already caught him once, smelled him out like a sly, cunning tom cat sniffs out a rodent. They’d already caught him once, and he could feel the hot blood dripping down his face, burning his eye, filling his mouth. Huge, ravaging sobs shook his frame, and he kept trying to shove his fist into his mouth to stifle the sound. They’d find him again, he was so very sure of it, and they’d hurt him more, hurt him so bad that he’d just quit screaming all together, just quit moving, just STOPPED like mommy and daddy and Gabe-

Aiden rolled onto his side and vomited.

The bile burned the back of his throat terribly, but the smell was worse, and he spent the next fifteen minutes of so dry heaving miserably. He rolled the opposite way once he’d recovered a little, grunting in disgust. Half awake, he groped blindly for the crumpled pack on his bed side table. He crammed a cigarette between his lips and lit it before he was even out of the bed. Aiden ran a trembling hand through his hair as he stood, breathing deeply and trying to banish the disturbing images from his head.

Mechanically, he unbolted his bedroom door and fumbled his way into the kitchenette. The lights were already on, of course, and the bleach and bucket were waiting on the tiny kitchen table, ready to greet him like old friends. Oh, hello again! We knew you’d be visiting us, see, because it’s been a few days and you were looking just a little too calm, buddy, just a little too pleased with this new place to not need us, so here we are, just like always.

Aiden was pretty sure his sanity was slipping through his dumb fingers. It had been a long time coming, really. It should have worried him that he didn’t care, but he was numb; his emotional wounds had long since festered and become rotten, eating away at everything and anything. Still on auto-pilot, Aiden filled the bucket with bleach and hot water, exhaustion weighing heavily on his lean body. Done with his task, he grabbed a rag and sloshed his way back to his bedroom.

The smell was disgusting, but he simply wrinkled his nose as he knelt down. Squinting through plumes of gray smoke, he began scrubbing the mess with thoughtless, precise movements. He’d been there less than six months, and already he was cleaning puke off of the wood floor for the hundredth time at three in the ******** morning. Aiden inhaled deeply, stalling his rising frustration and self-hatred as he cleaned. His anger was swift and deadly like a wild fire, and Aiden did not want to get on his neighbors’ bad side already by breaking every god forsaken thing in his apartment.

He worked diligently, inhaling deeply every so often as the minutes slid by. Night time was always the worst, though sometimes the dreams came during the day as well; those instances were becoming few and far between as he grew older and the past grew more distant, but the night terrors still plagued him most nights. As his cigarette dwindled, Aiden suspected they’d never quite leave him in peace. The memories hid in every dark corner, and behind every door. The flash backs were horrendous, and the reason for his most recent move.

He was emancipated, freed from any familial hold, and he liked that way after eleven years of shitty foster and group homes. Aiden kept his head down, studied, and paid little mind to the overly dramatic lives of the teenagers around him. His appearance made him strange, and his personality seemed to make him a freak as far as his classmates were concerned. For a long time, no one spoke to him; they only ever stared at him. It bothered Aiden, the staring, but it was acceptable. The touching, however, was not. Once he’d been a student for long enough, the superstitious name calling and fear began to fester in the school and the relatively small town. He was the proverbial black cat, and it was always Halloween in this town. Aiden’s eyes had always caused problems throughout his life, and this time was no different. However, the real problems began when he broke a student’s arm in three places; the other boy had grabbed his shoulder when Aiden moved to walk away from an impending altercation, and he’d reacted before he could stop himself.

Aiden didn’t really remember much after that, but the boy was howling on the floor a few minutes later with his useless arm still twisted at an unnatural angle in Aiden’s grip. There were hearings and court meetings and endless glares: Aiden was more of a freak than ever. So, he moved. The city he’d chosen was larger and the people barely noticed him for the most part, which was relieving. The students at his new high school still stared, but Aiden could handle what he was used to, and for the most part he was able to ignore them.

The tingling in his lower left leg alerted Aiden to the fact that he’d been sitting in the same position for too long. He stood with a grimace and rubbed his finished cigarette butt into the cluttered ash tray on his night stand. It was, unfortunately, as good a time as any to start the day and prepare for school. Aiden left the bucket and rag were they were and randomly grabbed a pair of jeans and a dark long sleeved turtle neck on his way to the tiny bathroom.

Aiden avoided his reflection for as long as possible; his jeans were too big on his shrinking waist and hips, and his shirt seemed to swallow him whole, so he knew he looked a little rough around the edges. But what really kept him from peering at his twin in the mirror were his scars, and the genetic abnormality that was blazoned across his sharp, aristocratic features: he suffered from heterochromia iridium, and he hated it with the entirety of his cold heart. His eyes were always conflicting, and the more superstitious saw this as a sign that he was bad luck, or the bringer of curses.

He peeked accidentally through a messy curtain of wild black curls, meeting his mismatched gaze in the tiny mirror above the sink: his left eye was a mirage of greens and browns, while the right was a sharp, deadly blue, split precisely down the middle by a thin silver scar. It made him look very intimidating, though his body was lean and his stature was slight. In fact, the right side of his face was a mesh work of delicate scar tissue, and that made his bare appearance all the more startling. With a grimace of disgust, Aiden tugged the turtleneck collar of his shirt up to cover the bottom half of his face. It drew attention, but so did his eyes; the scars were distracting and disgusting, and he greatly preferred them covered. It was for his own comfort as well as everyone else’s; he was enough of a freak as it was.

Three hours later, Aiden was slinking up to his locker in the brightly lit hallway at his new school. It was still fairly early, and thankfully most of the students had yet to arrive on campus. He prayed to a god that he didn’t necessarily believe in that he would continue to remain unacknowledged as he opened his locker and selected two of the thick textbooks within. He was mentally and physically exhausted, and the day had already started out shitty.

Aiden sighed as he shut his locker and hoped that the hours would go by quickly. He already wanted another cigarette.

[Miss Bickies]

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q υ ɩ ɳ ɳ . ɱ c ɩ ɳ т ʏ ɾ є
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The sound of metal against metal caught Quinn’s attention. Turning his head slowly, those emerald eyes caught sight of the tall figure at his locker. He was a new student here, though many students have already started to gossip about him. Chuckles, rumours, and lies; did every student have to go through this?

It sickened Quinn to know that notion was true. It did not matter who you were or what you did; it was inescapable. Rather, it was just a question of how people 'get over it', as they say.

Quinn remembered when the student was introduced to the class three months ago. Coincidentally, he saw him in almost all of his class blocks, minus the one right after lunch. He volunteered as a library helper then, so he worked there from the start of lunch (after he ate, of course) through that block till his final class of the day. He was allowed to come and go as he pleased, but he usually stayed there unless he had major assignments due or a planned outing with friends.

When the teachers asked for a volunteer to give the new student all the notes from prior classes, Quinn rose his hand. The other students were reluctant, but he hoped that he could help make the new student feel like at least someone was there to help him. Maybe it would make him feel comfortable enough to develop some friendships.

But, with the recent murders, it seemed like the other students were edgy these days. Understandable, but edginess can lead to paranoia. Beyond that, it is only a matter of time before they become hysterical.

Quinn gave him the notes within a few days, to which the new student seemed silently appreciative of the notion. Though, he had always remained avoidant of everyone, including him. He never discussed his past, his life... He never talked about himself, and, during group work, he seemed to always grumble at the notion of it.

Everyone was wary of him, though Quinn was not. In fact, he was curious about him. All in benevolence, of course.

Realising he was staring, Quinn blinked himself out of it before sighing to himself. He gave the other a small smile and a wave, being friendly and all with him. Turning back to his locker, he looked around for his textbooks and pulled them out, closing and locking his locker carefully.

Today was not supposed to be too stressful; nothing to hand in, no tests to write. Nothing but lectures and note-taking, as well as work periods so students could work on their homework. For Quinn, he also had the library work to do, so maybe that would prove busier than the classes themselves. He had a few things to work on, but he could easily get them done in the work periods-

"Hey, Queeny!"

Quinn twitched. Oh great, it's them... His two favourite people: James and Cody.

They were the 'prized' jocks of the school, and they made sure everyone else knew it as well. Tall, muscular, and very short dirty-blond hair; that was what they looked like. The two jocks were twins, and they always were caught in all the girls' gazes. They seemed to get a new girlfriend every month, even exclaiming that they slept with many of them.

James and Cody were the stereotypical jock, and Quinn disliked them greatly.

"What do you want?" Quinn sighed heavily, not even bothering to correct their nickname for him.

James grinned cockily, "Care to give us the answers to the math assignment due last Monday? We would greatly appreciate-"

Quinn glared at him, "Why don't you two bugger off and do you own work for once?"

"Aw, but Queeny-"

"I said no." With that, Quinn stormed away with his books towards his first class of the day: English. At least he did not have to deal with those two again until the end of the day, but it still irked him that they always went to see if he would do their homework for them. Like that would happen. Sure, Quinn would help out if someone asked for him to help with concepts and whatnot, but to actually do it? No, that was not his job.

Sighing heavily, Quinn walked down the hall until he found the classroom for his upcoming class. The door was closed and locked, so he leaned against the wall across from it to wait for the teacher to come and open it. As he waited there, he leaned his head back and sighed, closing his eyes in an attempt to relax.

At least, Quinn thought, rumours surrounding the recent murder were not spreading yet. He only hoped that they would keep to a minimum today, but the day was far from over.

Things could change.

[d r ii BONES]

A I D E N

During the brief moments when Aiden actually contemplated his life, he often wondered if this was his punishment for being the sole survivor of the horror that claimed the rest of his family. Perhaps he was unlucky, like so many people had insisted in the past. Death seemed to follow him, but it hadn’t directly influenced him since that night; it was just always there, like an acquaintance whom you see regularly, but whose name you can only vaguely recall. The crime rates always seemed slightly higher in the towns he moved to, some scandal in the process of unfolding. It made the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck stand on end for some unknown reason.

It felt like he was a death sentence for any town or city he set foot in.

The few students that were clustered in the hall behind him were already gossiping about the fresh body found this morning; it seemed like the corpse was all anyone could talk about. Soon, they would announce the name, and friends and attention seekers alike would go into hysterics. As he absently shuffled through the crap in his locker, Aiden couldn’t help but wonder if any of those people had ever seen a dead body. He supposed most hadn’t, and couldn’t help but think of them as useless; they’d cry and sob and be upset, but their grief wouldn’t be complete. They’d just know that person was gone, much like when someone moves away without warning or a forwarding address. The actual visual assault of the dead body is the worst. It’s easy to miss someone, he mused, but it’s hard to really acknowledge their death. Especially when they were gutted and left to rot out in the open.

This was the third body in a month and a half, maybe a little more. Aiden couldn’t deny that he felt the itch to move again, but he’d already missed a chunk of the school year because of the court hearings. Besides, he was pretty sure the emancipation office was just itching to pull his certs; one more ******** up and it would be back to the group home, he was sure of it.

A scowl started to tug at his lips and brow as his gut churned at the thought. Aiden was just reaching up to satisfy the urge to slam his locker shut when he caught the kid staring. He couldn’t help but feel slightly startled that he hadn’t felt the weight of the other boy’s gaze before now. It was a full on stare: either the boy, whose name he only knew from barrowed notes, had forgotten what he was looking at, or the glare of the hallway lighting made Aiden’s scars look particularly gruesome. Neither made him feel good, really. Aiden didn’t handle discomfort very well: most of his emotional range consisted of apathetic, irritated, and enraged. He couldn’t be bothered to feel much else, really.

Suddenly feeling both pissed and extremely self conscious, Aiden snapped his locker shut roughly. The boy, Quinn, offered a smile and a wave, but Aiden just frowned before turning away. The other boy was polite, but Aiden didn’t quite know what to think of him. He didn’t have anything the shorter boy could possibly want, and thus Aiden was stumped as to why the other boy actually went out of his way occasionally to greet him. It made him feel peculiar, so Aiden spent most of his time pretending Quinn didn’t really exist, but they sat next to (or quite near) each other in a lot of classes. Perhaps that was the cause of Quinn’s staring: Aiden hadn’t return the boy’s notes, had he? Since he was once more facing his mostly bare locker, Aiden began to shuffle around once more, this time searching for the painstakingly compiled papers he’d been lent a few weeks ago. They were meticulous and precise, the handwriting clear and careful. If he could stop being a d**k for five minutes, Aiden could even admit that they’d been far more helpful than any of the crap the teachers had passed off to him.

Mostly he’d copied them because he had nothing better to do with his life.

As he was staking the papers back into order, Aiden caught some of the conversation Quinn was having beside him. He’d missed most of it, but the teasing, blatantly disrespectful tone of the other, larger boys made his hackles rise. If there was anything Aiden hated more than teenagers and high school, it was bullies. He had absolutely no patience for them, and no forgiveness. His fist tightened against his will, wrinkling several paper hopelessly. Breathing slowly through his nose, Aiden refrained from turning around until he heard Quinn’s lock slam shut, and a pair of feet stomp their way down the hall. Slowly, he reigned in his anger and relaxed his grip; he made sure to keep his back to the hall, lest he see the two over grown bastards. Aiden just had to make it through the school year with his head down. He firmly planned on ignoring what had just happened, until he made his way to their first class and spied Quinn leaning against the far wall.

The annoyance over the small confrontation resurfaced, making him scowl. The expression was ugly, and his visible scars appeared most twisted than normal. At least Quinn hadn’t cowered or let the bigger boys intimidate him.

Before he realized what he was doing, Aiden had thrust his hand forward to present the wrinkled papers to Quinn. “Thanks,” he grumbled, attracting the boy’s attention with the least amount of verbal contact needed. His voice was deep, and rough from lack of use (which was a personal decision; he had nothing to discuss with anyone, anyway). Aiden felt like an idiot, standing in the middle of the hallway with a bunch of papers in his hand, but he refused to drop his arm or move, even though a few students grouched as they had to move around him to continue down the hall.

[Miss Bickies]

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q υ ɩ ɳ ɳ . ɱ c ɩ ɳ т ʏ ɾ є
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The countdown had started. It will soon be time for the bell to ring and students would venture into their classrooms, whether calmly or frantically in order to avoid being marked late. Some did not care, but Quinn always made sure he was on time, if not early.

The halls started to get noisier now as more and more students filed in. Some talked about their night, others complained about their homework… But now, there were some talking about the dead body the police found.

Quinn shook his head; they were already trying to point fingers and thinking of numerous conspiracies to why this was happening. It bothered him greatly; if there was no proof pertaining to one individual or another, then why play the blame game?

It sickened him, even more so than the bullying.

Ah, yes, those bullies from before. They were always bothersome; why could they not get the hint that Quinn wanted nothing to do with them? At least they did not get violent this time. Sometimes, their temper rose to the level of violently lashing out again whoever irked them. They needed anger management classes, majorly.

For now though, James and Cody were gone, and he was at peace.

Leaning against the wall across from his classroom, Quinn thought about how Aiden seemed to react around him. When he smiled at him and acknowledged his presence, he tensed and recoiled back to his locker. He seemed quite skittish, which was normal for a student when they start attending a new school. The scowling, growling, and avoiding, however, showed that he was not fond of others, but why?

Quinn was curious about it, and he hoped that, just maybe, Aiden would feel comfortable one day. Maybe they would be friends; at least, that is the hope. Even if they did not become friends, then maybe some others would, and that would be good for Aiden, he believed. Someone to hang out with and converse, to feel included…

His train of thought was interrupted when he suddenly saw a flash of white appear before him.

Quinn’s eyes blinked back into focus, tilting his head down to look at the papers. His notes? When he looked up, he saw Aiden standing in front of him with his arm reaching out towards him. His eyes caught the scar along his face, but his expression never twisted into disgust.

It was interesting, seeing that long scar along Aiden’s face twist with each contort of his facial muscles. Though, it might be a surprise to Aiden that Quinn was not reeling away in horror or appearing as if offended or sickened by it.

In fact, it did not bother Quinn at all.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Quinn spoke with a small smile, reaching out carefully to retrieve the wrinkled papers. He was not phased by their wrinkles either. Even if they had stains all over them, he did not mind, which sometimes they are returned like that by other students and his friends. He was diligent enough to keep a backup on his computer at home.

“I hope they were helpful. If you need any more notes or some assistance with the assignments, let me know, okay?”

Quinn’s smile was sincere, friendly. His eyes did not wander from Aiden’s face. He was curious about why his voice was rough and seemingly unused, but he did not dwell on it for too long. That was because, as they stood there, he noticed some students giving them, especially Aiden, some grouchy glares. He turned his head to give them a glare in turn, which made them flinch and quicken their pace away.

Inconsiderate as always.

Shaking his head with a sigh, Quinn turned his attention back to Aiden and gave him a small smile. “Try to ignore them, some people think the world revolves around them and believe they’re entitled to royal treatment.” Adjusting his glasses, he paused for a moment to do a survey of the hall, then he looked back at him. “How’re your other classes going?”

[d r ii BONES]

A I D E N

The hair on the nape of his neck seemed to be permanently raised today; there was a definite increase in the amount of attention he was receiving from the student body. Aiden was resigned to the fact that another town thought he was a freak, it hardly even bothered him. He ignored the students brushing rudely between and past them even though they stared, his conflicting gaze focused instead on the calm, quiet young man in front of him. Aiden knew his appearance made people uncomfortable, but the other boy, Quinn, had never flinched away from him or purposely avoided eye contact. ********, even the teachers couldn’t stand to stare at him for very long. But Quinn was standing in the middle of a crowded hallway, his expression open and interested in Aiden’s response. It was strange, and it made him feel strange.

Aiden shifted his weight, not enjoying the weird sensation nestling its way into his gut. “Fine,” he grunted. He stood there awkwardly, not sure if he wanted to conversation to continue from there or how to accomplish such a task in the first place. Aiden felt crushed standing there in the hallway, pressed in from all sides by a hundred other bodies, two hundred eyes. It made him feel vaguely ill, his sore abdominal muscles tightening involuntarily. He settled on fleeing, because that simply was easier than trying to figure out what the ******** he was supposed to say to the other boy. “Time for class.”

He tore his eyes away from Quinn’s and brushed past him, reaching for the classroom door. Aiden had another brief moment of hesitation; when he’d started at this school, it had already been very far into the semester, and seating had already been socially decided amongst the student body in the classrooms. More often than not, the only empty seat in the room was near Quinn, and thus the boys sat next to each other in most of the classes they shared. Aiden didn’t mind until approximately three and a half seconds ago, when the weird feeling in his gut persisted and grew stronger. He felt like some great realization had occurred somewhere in his brain, and the rest of the grey Jell-o between his ears was just slow on the pick up. Aiden was pretty sure it involved Quinn, and he did not want to spend about five hours sitting next to the boy feeling like this. For just a second, he considered sitting somewhere else but it wasn’t worth the argument with whoever decided that he’d taken their seat. So he sat down silently and pulled out a worn notebook and stared straight at the white board in the front of the room.

And it was in such a manner that he deflected all of Quinn’s attempts to talk to him for half of the day.

When lunch finally broke, Aiden made his way to the track field, which ran through a large cluster of trees. It was far enough away from the school that usually no one bothered him, and he could smoke in peace. Lighting a cigarette, he laid back and told his brain to shut the ******** up because he was just going to enjoy the sun and the breeze for a second. Aiden rolled his sleeves up and closed his eyes, not interested in seeing his scars in the direct sunlight. He took a long drag, and just tried to stop thinking.

The feeling hadn’t gone away; it was annoying. It was the way Quinn met his gaze every single time they saw each other, every time the other boy spoke to him or asked him something. He wasn’t sure what to call the feeling, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Another, deeper inhale, no more thinking. Aiden laid there for a while, unable to shake the sensation that he was kind of lost.

[Miss Bickies]

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q υ ɩ ɳ ɳ . ɱ c ɩ ɳ т ʏ ɾ є
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Did he offend him?

Possibly, considering the way Aiden was so quick to leave. So avoidant when they sat in class, and Quinn tried to initiate a conversation. He eventually fell quiet and worked, not wanting to prod him anymore.

In the back of his head though, Quinn wanted to know more about Aiden. Maybe even become a friend to him. From what he saw, everyone was either disgusted or terrified of him, or both. To give him at least one person's faith in him, one person's trust and kindness...

Maybe Aiden wouldn't feel so distant.

When lunch broke, it was time for Quinn to head to the library to work. There were large windows facing the back of the school, to the trees and part of the track field. It was on the second floor, encompassing the majority of the floor's space. It was nice and rich with resources, though still not as extravagant as those in the city.

Quinn put his lunch in the backroom, fixing his hair and glasses to make himself look presentable. As he did so, the librarian informed him that it would be best if he got on the desk right away instead of waiting till after he after. Apparently, today was going to be very busy. Nodding, Quinn ventured to the front desk, sitting on the chair in front of the computer.

Sure enough, there was a rush. Apparently, several classes was starting a research project and everyone needed books. At least he would see one of his friends, since they were in one of the classes.

Quinn smiled, "Hey, Kris. Didn’t realise you were a keener.”

Kris, with his strawberry blond hair and brown eyes, grinned, “Says the one whose work ethic is beyond any of our’s.” He lightly smacked Quinn’s arm, grinning. “Actually, I just want to get ahead on this assignment, trying to space out my work better.”

“To hang out with Michelle more, you mean.” Quinn knew Kris better than anyone else. Yes, his work ethic was good, but, since he got together with Michelle, all they’ve been doing is going on dates. Several of them.

Kris shrugged, “I guess I’m guilty! Anyway, I’ll get out of here so you can work. Later, tater!”

As he waved and left the library, Quinn chuckled softly to himself. His small group of friends were a mixing bowl of personalities. There was Kris, Michelle, Sabrina, Derrick, and himself.

Kris was always a little energetic ball of joy. He was an engineer student, loving to make plans and build his creations. A couple years back, he started dating Michelle, Quinn's best friend. Michelle was an art student, black curly hair with bright amber eyes. A gamer too, much like Quinn. Sabrina looked like a model with her blond hair and blue eyes, but, despite her preppy appearance, she was one of the nicest people in the school. She excelled at Math and Science, especially biochemistry. Derrick was a theatre student, as well as a member in student leadership. He was all over the place, getting involved in every nook and cranny of the school’s politics. Kris’s brother, though his hair looked redder than his. Same brown eyes, though.

Then, there was him of course. Quinn, the history student who wanted to work in the libraries or archives. A-student, great work ethic, and liked reading and video games. Out of the five of them, however, he was the quietest - though he was also the most compassionate. A unique bunch, they were.

After the rush died down, Quinn was allowed to have his lunch. Sighing, he sat in the back and took a few moments to calm down, to relax after dealing with swarm after swarm. Turning his eyes to the window, he rested his chin into his hand.

Despite everything, his mind kept wandering back to Aiden. Quinn only wanted to make him feel welcomed, to have a friend… Yet he couldn’t help but think that, perhaps, he offended him.

Quinn sighed, turning away to look down at his lunch bag, unpacking it. Maybe their last class of the day would prove better, if he didn’t see him by then...

[d r ii BONES]

A I D E N

By the end of the school day, Aiden had caught several students actually glaring at him as they whispered to their neighbors furiously. His shoulders had taken on a defensive curl the second he’d come back in from lunch to attend his final, god forsaken class of the day. Aiden assumed it was fear causing his classmates to go out of their way to ostracize him further; after all, the body discovered early this morning had been a student at a neighboring school. If Aiden could recall correctly, all of the victims had been school aged, but from different areas. It was understandable that the students, and even the staff, were on edge… but Aiden couldn’t help but feel defensive. Because he was new, a mystery to this small, close knit community, Aiden felt as if he was somehow already a suspect to these people. It was ridiculous: he didn’t think any of these brats even knew his name, except the quiet boy that sat next to him in most of his classes.

So, shoulders hunched, smelling of the crisp forest surrounding the school and nicotine, he slouched into the art studio. It was softly lit, and smelled on charcoal and paint, and Aiden allowed himself to relax slightly. He was one of the first students to arrive, having skipped out on lunch before it was even over. His conflicting gaze flickered around the sparsely populated room, noting immediately that Quinn wasn’t in attendance yet. The thought made his stomach feel strange, but Aiden brushed the thought off; Quinn had already occupied too many of his thoughts today. He just wanted to fight through this class and go home to his shitty little apartment in the shitty side of town and collapse into bed. Aiden was ******** tired of being stared at like some kind of freak. Every school was the same, every town identical. He was sure some nerd or anther would once again dredge up the myths behind his genetic mutation; soon internet and book articles would be taped to his locker once more. Maybe they’d even spray paint the word ‘freak’ across it again? Children were so dull, so easy to predict. Aiden didn’t even have the energy to hate them anymore. Countless sleepless nights were catching up to him as it was, and he could barely keep his eyes open in class anymore. The teachers all frowned, but he was sure no one would say anything. It wasn’t exactly as if they could call him in for a stupid parent/teacher conference, now was it?

Mindlessly, a hundred miles away, Aiden dragged his portfolio from the back room where the teacher let him stash it every day after class. The old leather creaked, though it was well maintained. It was a feminine case, having been his mothers, but it was Aiden’s prized possession; the leather was meticulously oiled and worked, so it was soft and supple, the parchments and papers inside stored with care. There wasn’t much he was good at, honestly, but Aiden would be the first to admit that he was very good at working a bit of charcoal across paper. His mother had been spectacular, as had been her smile when she’d learned that one of her sons had inherited the natural talent.

“Watch it, freak show,” some brat with bleached hair snarled in his ear, shouldering past him between the large wooden tables. He’d stopped dead in the path way, thinking of that beautiful lopsided grin, without realizing it. Aiden instantly wanted to vomit the bottle of water that had substituted his lunch; his fists had clenched automatically at his sides, the left making the leather of the case creak ominously again. He forced himself to relax, noticing that several sets of eyes were on him. Just another hour, just one more, and he could get the ******** out of this stupid school for the whole weekend. Work was slow but steady for the most part, but at least it demanded most of his brain, and he could take regular smoke breaks with the other employees of the parlor. If he was honest with himself, the only other person he’d held a true conversation with since moving to this stupid town was the body piercer he worked with. She’d taken one look at his work, and allowed him a chair in her studio without so much as a ‘can I see your credentials.’ The Ink Well was the only place that brought him a speck of peace, though the work was boring; they were located in a pretty small city just outside of town, full of old gossipy bitches and their well off brats. Ella was never quiet, so Aiden had little time to think; she was constantly in motion, and look as strange as he did with her dyed hair and face full of self placed metal. Just the thought of entering the shop in a few hours did wonders to calm his nerves. Maybe he’d even catch the bus, just to get there sooner.

Aiden mused this plan as his shuffled to his regular seat, gently setting the portfolio down on the sanded wooden top of the table. The tables were long, and showed signs f years of tough love. The stools next to him were often empty, though Quinn had occupied them more often than not. He wondered if the studious boy would try once more to strike up a friendly conversation with him, but the thought made his stomach somersault for some strange reason so he just forced his brain to shut the ******** up. Silently, as the classroom began filling up, Aiden lovingly slid a large piece of high end paper from his bag, as well as a bit of cloth which housed his charcoal. This particular piece was for Ella, who was a huge nerd when it came to fantasy; a large dragon, nestled in a domineering way in a staggering amount of gold and precious jewels, housed in a giant stone throne room. The work was tedious, but kept his mind quiet for the time being.

He just wanted this day to be over. Strange eyes focused downward on his work, Aiden simply tried to blend in to a world that thought he was a freak of nature.

[Miss Bickies]

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q υ ɩ ɳ ɳ . ɱ c ɩ ɳ т ʏ ɾ є
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Eventually, it was time for Quinn to head to class.

Time seemed to pass painstakingly slow. Maybe it was his guilt for offending Aiden, or maybe because it was so busy and it seemed like his work was going on forever. Either way, class would resume in a few moments. He would have to see him one way or another, and maybe he would be given the reason for Aiden’s behaviour today. Or not. If that was the case, then Quinn would respect his wishes.

Quinn was quite observant with how teachers and the other students treated Aiden. At least, from what he saw in their classes and heard from gossip in the hallways. Students were frightened of him, even Quinn’s own friends were skeptical of who Aiden was. Maybe it was his scars that were making them anxious or even his personality. But, the most damning of reasons was the fact that, just as Aiden arrived at their school, mysterious murders were occurring in their neighbourhood.

Shaking his head, Quinn continued down the hallway to put his lunch bag away in his locker. He paused by Aiden’s locker, looking it over. He made it a habit to check on his locker for him whenever he was nearby. Some students thought it was funny to post things on his locker about ‘cures for diseases’ or spray paint it with the usual words. ‘Freak’, ‘You’re not welcomed here’, ‘Get lost’... It went on. At times, Quinn took it upon himself to clean Aiden’s locker for him when he wasn’t around. He would work very hard to get it off, hoping that Aiden wouldn’t have to see them.

The others were so cruel to him. Quinn couldn’t stomach it.

As for the teachers, they would often look at Aiden and make an expression that said ‘Again, really?’ Quinn felt sorry for him. Maybe he was ill or didn’t get enough sleep, or couldn’t. Students can get really tired late in the term, but Aiden’s frequent naps were too often to be just the term itself. Insomnia, maybe. So, he would make sure his notes were well-written or even duplicated on another piece of paper to make sure Aiden got the notes for their class.

Maybe he was being too nice, though… Maybe that’s why Aiden was offended earlier, maybe he just didn’t like being treated with kindness. At least, too much of it.

Putting his lunch bag away, Quinn shut and locked his locker before heading towards Art. It was an elective he chose for the term, something to make him relax between his other classes and work in the library. He wasn’t an expert in art, but he liked it as a hobby.

Lately, they’ve been working on individual projects. Well, it was more like ‘free time’ than ‘project’. They just had a huge piece due, so now it was downtime before their next assignment would be assigned.

The class was mostly full by the time Quinn got there, his green eyes scanning the room quietly. He saw Aiden working on something he had been concentrating on for a while. His artistic ability was amazing - he deserved much more praise than anyone else here.

Quietly, Quinn made his way to the usual stool he sat it. It was beside Aiden by not as closely as their other classes. After pulling back the stool a bit, he turned his head to give Aiden a small smile. A gentle gesture that maybe Aiden would welcome.

“Hey… I just wanted to apologise for prodding earlier. I didn’t mean to offend you,” he quietly spoke, giving him a nod of his head in respect. Instead of taking out his portfolio, he dug into his bag and took out a sketchbook he had. He opened it to a blank page, getting a pencil from his bag as well to set the tip against it.

Quinn turned his head to Aiden again, giving him another gentle smile. “I hope you had a good lunch. It’s nice out today for once…”

[d r ii BONES]

A I D E N

He glanced up, pale hands already liberally coated in charcoal, as a soft voice drifted over to him. It was Quinn, of course: no one else directed normal conversation towards him except for the odd, studious boy. Aiden noticed that Quinn had seated himself further away than normal, and he was oddly upset by that fact. He didn’t quite understand the feeling- Aiden hadn’t gone out of his way to talk to anyone, let alone Quinn. He’d strangely grown used to the other young man’s presence it seemed; the soft voice asking if he needed any notes, the gentle prod to his shoulder to wake him up in the middle of an irate teacher’s class. No one had been so persistent before, no one had really wanted to talk to him in years. His social workers and the families that had fostered him didn’t count- they had to talk to him, and even then there had been a coldness to their relationships. It was all business as usual for them; Aiden was just another kid in the world without a family, just one more that they had to legally feed and clothe until he reached their definition of adulthood. He’d had to jump through all kinds of hoops to be let out of the system early, but the illusion of a family was too much to handle. He’d lived with other kids in the foster homes, unwanted or just unlucky like himself had been, but they’d never been family in the same way that the couples had never been ‘mom’ or ‘dad.’ It made him feel weird that Quinn didn’t seem to find his eyes or his scars or his attitude disturbing enough to back off… and maybe even a little hopeful, though he hated himself for it. Aiden had managed just fine for the last eleven years without any real friends, he didn’t plan on finding any now.

Aiden forced his eyes back to his work, but for some unknown reason he simply couldn’t choke back the words that crept up his scarred, pale throat. “You didn’t offend me,” he muttered, charcoal creaking in the strong grip of his fingers. He felt like an idiot. “You’re never late. I didn’t want you to be late because of me.”

Aiden didn’t look up again, though he did glance at the side of Quinn’s face. He was a naturally quiet person, though a lot of his social awkwardness probably stemmed from the lack of contact he had with his peers. Ella was the only person he really spoke to on a regular basis these days. And, well, Quinn was another, but the weird feeling he got in his gut every time kept Aiden from really going out of his way to communicate with the boy, so he wasn’t really sure if Quinn counted.

A swift assessment of the clock promised only a half hour left in the school day; soon, he’d be on his way into the city for work. These days, the few during the week he was allowed to work, were his favorite. He even decided to take the bus, just to arrive there earlier today despite the fact that Aiden absolutely hated the bus. Just thirty minutes… he could do this, and even try to be normal while he was at it.

“Lunch was good.” Aiden wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say after this short, awkward declaration, but he knew a real conversation lasted more than four sentences. He shifted, trying to find a distraction as the seconds dragged by. “How, ah. How was your lunch?”

He focused again on the drawing spread out before him, but Aiden couldn’t really find it in him to focus like he could at the beginning of the class. It had been a long, annoying day and the confusion he felt around Quinn shot his nerves through completely. Aiden quietly and proficiently began the careful process of cleaning up his area and packing the artwork away in his case. There was no point in forcing himself to work; he’d just screw it up and then piss and moan about having to start over. Aiden could feel the pulse in his throat quicken as he stole quick glimpses of Quinn from the corner of his eye, his mind divided between the other’s response and the task of clearing his work area. He also caught himself shifting in his seat again, unconsciously slipping a little closer to Quinn and the quiet calm he usually projected. The volume in the open classroom had been steadily increasing as the clock wore down, and Quinn’s calming aura was like a soothing balm for his nerves. He crushed the impulse ruthlessly, and studied the clock over Quinn’s head again- only fifteen minutes. Anxiety was catching up to him, stealing his breath and making his heart race; the medication tucked away in his backpack taunted him, but Aiden refused to take one unless absolutely necessary, especially in such a public place. He definitely didn’t need his peers calling him a drug addict on top of a freak, at least not so soon after he’d started. Only fourteen more minutes, and then he’d be free of the suddenly claustrophobic classroom and the stupid, laughing faces of the kids in his year.



[ I'm sorry this is so bad and rushed, but it's been half finished on my computer forever. I'm going out of town this weekend, I wanted to post it before then ;c ]

[Miss Bickies]

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q υ ɩ ɳ ɳ . ɱ c ɩ ɳ т ʏ ɾ є
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(( It's okay, not at all!!! I’m finishing up my last year of uni, so I’ve been busy as well! ; w ; <3 I'm sorry mine's so short ; ~ ; ))

The mutter caught Quinn off guard. He did not expect Aiden to speak to him since he ‘offended’ him, but it seems like the ‘offense’ was nonexistent. “Ah-” He lifted his head, blinking at Aiden slowly before adjusting his glasses. He smiled a bit, awkward and, if anything, embarrassed. “I’m… glad. I didn’t want to upset you…”

Aiden’s statement made Quinn feel so much better. He was worried ever since their class together that the other student was not fond of his kind attempts to talk to him. Yet, his statement now made him feel at ease.

“Lunch was alright. I work in the library during lunch hour, so I usually eat beforehand… or after if it was a crazy day.” Quinn gave Aiden a small smile, “I’m glad your lunch was good, though.”

Quinn continued to sketch nothing in particular in his book to pass time. There was no real work or tutorial they had today, so it was whatever the students felt like doing. He sighed through his nose a bit whenever he made a mistake, erasing it carefully so he would not ruin the rest of the doodle.

Lifting his head, Quinn look towards Aiden with that smile still on his face. “How’s your drawing coming along? Going well, I hope?” He adjusted his glasses after setting his pencil down, rubbing his palm idly. He noticed Aiden shifting closer, but he was not bothered by it.

Rather, he welcomed it.

Quinn was rather happy to see Aiden seemingly feel comfortable around him. That was all he wanted, really. Being a new student was nerve-wracking, especially if you did not know anyone at the school like a friend, sibling, or cousin. The least Quinn could do was try to help him feel comfortable here, and maybe be that one friend he could count on… if he wanted that.

“Class is almost over, though…” he said quietly, tapping his fingers as he gazed up at the clock. “Sometimes the clock doesn’t go fast enough, hm?” Quinn smiled a bit brighter, “We’ll be out of here soon, don’t worry…”

When the bell finally rang, everyone else was quick to flee the classroom, screaming and cheering the whole way to their lockers. Quinn always waited for the rush, instead focusing on putting his sketchbook away and cleaning up his table. After the table was clean, he sat up straight, smiling at Aiden. “Time to leave now, huh…”

[d r ii BONES]

Aiden ran his fingers gently across the old leather of his portfolio in an absent way, the familiar creases and imperfections reminding him of his long gone family. He'd been working on Ella's 'nerd drawing' for the better part of two months (since he'd landed the tattooing position, really, and Ella had commanded he create something for her) and it had been a slow, steady project thus far. He was fortunate that Ella owned the shop herself and was more than willing to lie about his age to the licensing committee if it meant she could drag him around and scrape some awards at conventions for his art; her shop felt more like home than his own apartment. It was the only sanctuary he had in this shitty area, and he dreaded the day one of his older classmates entered the shop and ruined everything: it was, after all, illegal for him to be employed there at his current age. Shaking the rather depressing thought, Aiden realized that he'd let the silence grow between them and left Quinn without a response again. He always felt clumsy and stupid when Quinn's attention was focused on his person, and Aiden found the confusing emotions highly annoying. A small frown settled between his dark, arched brows, tugging at the delicate mesh of scar tissue that sprawled decoratively across the left half of his face.

"It's going well, I suppose." He replied awkwardly, still unsure how to keep the conversation normal and flowing. "It's for my boss. She has a nerd thing."

Luckily, Quinn didn't seem to mind his lack of social skills.

Aiden found himself tracing Quinn's easy smiles, his bright eyes. He'd never really paid much attention to the shift of emotions across another person's facial features before, but is was almost fascinating to see open honesty on Quinn's face when Aiden's own expressions remained somewhat cold and closed off. He found himself wondering about Quinn's life outside of the prison like high school; was Quinn someone's brother? A son his parents could be proud of and brag to all their friend's about, a good role model to his possible younger siblings? It was a thought he'd not entertained about another person in a very long time, but the distraction was welcome as the minutes seemed to tick by quicker. He liked to think Quinn was someone his family could be proud of.

He watched with avid, mismatched eyes as Quinn tucked away his own sketch book. The other boy wasn't bad, and he found himself genuinely interested in what that book contained. This was also a welcomed distraction from the anxious feeling that was rushing through his body, clamoring for attention in the back of his mind. Aiden wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner to dose himself in, but there was a bus to catch if he didn't want to be late; Ella had asked him to show up two hours early to work on her before they started receiving clients. Aiden hated public transportation, especially with his nerves running so high. The confrontation this morning with the two morons bullying Quinn had left him angry and aching to fight. He felt like he was suffocating in the brightly lit classroom, as if the air conditioning had cut out and it was the middle of summer.

He absolutely hated feeling so ******** up all the time.

Aiden couldn't stop the violent flinch that seized him as the bell rang out across the campus, signaling the end of the day. A couple students gave him strange looks as they fled for the door, none of them kind. He hardly noticed; he was quite busy coaching his heart and respiratory rate back to normal parameters. His gaze fixed downward to the white knuckled grip he had on the edge of the work table, lungs burning and on the verge of hyperventilation. The heavy scar tissue on his face and torso burned and tingled unpleasantly, making nausea rise in his gut like a creature claw its way to freedom. He swallowed convulsively because he refused to wretch in front of these monstrous teenagers, these simpletons that treated him like a leper, like he was some sort of ******** freak, a bad omen.

Aiden forced his hands to release their death grip on the table as Quinn's voice broke through the poisonous thoughts racing across his mind. He grunted in acknowledgement (refusing to admit, even to himself, that he was incapable of speech right now) and stood up in a forced, jerking manor. He could feel the pulse point in his throat fluttering uncomfortably as his heart rate sky rocketed, leaving him a little breathless. He couldn't help but feel vaguely disgusted with himself as his control slipped away and he spiraled into a full blown anxiety attack.

He nearly stalked Quinn out of the art room, unaware if the other boy was still speaking to him or not. He mechanically walked a step behind the other, shaking and sick. His eyes, wide and with anxiety blown pupils, flashed anywhere and everywhere but not really seeing anything. Sweat made his wild curls limp, the base of his back cold and damp, but Aiden barely realized these things; his anxiety hadn't sunk its teeth into his psyche quite so fiercely in months, and it had decided to attack with a wretched vengeance.

He didn't even catch the alarmed expressions adopted by the other students; he was practically breathing down Quinn's neck, looming over the other boy, with a crazed look frozen on his deformed features.

With a quiet, strangled sound, Aiden blinked his stinging eyes and realized he was half way to work. The bus thundered along down the road, mostly empty as it left the limits of the small town and aimed for the larger city that resided just a short distance away. His hands un clenched painfully from the death grip they had on his book bag, already cramping in protest. He felt sick and exhausted, as if he'd just run a marathon in record time.

He was absolutely terrified to look to his left and see any familiar faces.. He knew a large portion of the student body took the bus to and from town every school day. ********, when had he even left Quinn's side? And when (how) had he managed to get onto the bus without causing a scene in his current state? His whole body locked up in fear, unwilling to acknowledge the other body sitting foolishly next to him and simply hoped, with a sad sort of desperation, that he hadn't finally managed to scare Quinn away for good.

[Miss Bickies]

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q υ ɩ ɳ ɳ . ɱ c ɩ ɳ т ʏ ɾ є
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Quinn didn’t mind the silence between him and Aiden. He understood that, as someone who rarely speaks to anyone else here, it may take time for him to come up with a response. He was always patient with him; after all, prodding would only make him more uncomfortable and less willing to speak. His eyes blink slowly when he notices the frown on Aiden’s face, worry starting to build up within him. Was something wrong? He seemed to be conflicted, almost…

The sound of Aiden’s voice brought Quinn’s attention away from his worry and back to listening to him. “Oh-! I’m sure she’ll like it; you’re doing a great job,” he replies, a soft smile on his face.

When the bell rang, Quinn noticed the flinch almost immediately--his expression faltering as he looked at Aiden. He didn’t know why he flinched, only that maybe something else was on his mind and the sound startled him. Rather than prod Aiden about it, he gave him another gentle smile.

“Hey, it’s okay…”

He didn’t know what to say other than that, hopeful that those three words alone could comfort Aiden somewhat. However, he wished that maybe, one day, Aiden would open up to him a little more, and maybe he could find a way to help him feel more comfortable here. He just wanted to help him, after all…

When Quinn left the classroom, he noticed that Aiden was following right behind him, shaking. He didn’t mind their closeness, though he could feel the other students’ alarmed gaze on them-mostly aimed at Aiden. Quinn didn’t waver from the stares or Aiden’s closeness; instead, he did what any normal person would do--gather his things and leave the school. He did, however, go to Aiden’s locker so he could get his things as well. No vandalism on his locker this time, to Quinn’s delight.

The weather was still nice when they finally got outside, Aiden still silent as they approached the bus stop. The other students there continued to stare at them, whispering amongst themselves as to why Quinn appeared so calm despite Aiden’s demeanour.

When he heard his phone beep, Quinn took it out to see an alert that the bus he normally took home had stopped running due to a mechanical failure. Sighing, he put the phone away--looks like he was taking the long way home. The bus arrived within minutes, and, luckily, Quinn was one of the first to get on. Though, he soon noticed that Aiden was coming on with him, still close behind. So, did he take this bus too, or was he in the same boat as him?

Nevertheless, he ventured down the aisle to find a seat--though, he let Aiden take the window, and he himself sat in the aisle seat. In his current state, Quinn thought it may be best for him to be near the window to distract himself, if he had to, and not sit near the strangers that would fill the aisle once the bus got full.

Time passed, Quinn had his headphones in his ears to listen to music. Aiden was still silent and stiff, having looked at him often to see if he was improving. Each time that there was no sign of improvement, Quinn felt his gut churn sickly. Was Aiden going to be okay?

Just when he was finally going to say something, however, a small sound escaped Aiden. His eyes blinked widely--Aiden was finally responding to his surroundings. Quinn waited quietly as Aiden visibly seemed to relax or, at least, leave the state it was previously in. He took out his headphones, a small smile curving along his lips as he spoke with the gentlest of tones. “Hey… How’re you feeling…?”

[d r ii BONES]

Aiden couldn't suppress the flinch that rocked his body, almost sending his head into the bus window, when Quinn's soft voice sounded beside him. As if in a particularly nasty nightmare, Aiden slowly shifted his gaze to the small, unassuming body seated beside him. His stomach clenched and fluttered; his emotions were always wrung out after an anxiety attack, and he no long had the capacity to keep his facial expression blank and cold.

He eyed Quinn with his single crisp, worried blue eye, barely daring to turn his head and face Quinn completely. His aching hands clenched involuntarily once more into the rough material of his bag as he frantically tried to figure out to avoid loosing the only kind person he'd met in years other than Ella.

"Sorry," he rasped, throat tight and dry. "I... I get anxious sometimes. Thank you for getting me away from the school."

Aiden felt his shoulders draw up defensively towards his burning ears, shame and embarrassment squirming in his aching gut. He'd been diagnosed with post-traumatic almost as soon as he'd woken in the hospital bed, nearly a week after he'd become an orphan and an only child; the two weeks following that diagnosis had been filled with sedatives and syringes and large men in all white with soft sole loafers that squeaked on dirty linoleum. Aiden knew he'd hurt people while in the hospital, but that whole period of time was really just a blur of terror and anger and so he couldn't remember much. His medical file, however, had no issue explaining just how ******** crazy he was in stark black and white. And breaking a classmate's arm last year kind of have him a good indication too. Aiden swallowed convulsively before noticing the extra books resting on Quinn's lap innocently.

"I, uh, thanks. Again. For getting my s**t, I mean." He cleared his throat nervously, and took the school books from the other boy with hesitant, gentle hands. Aiden hoped that he'd not acted too strangely, too much like a freak during the panic attack; knowing his luck though, there would be back lash at school in the morning for whatever weird s**t he'd done.

Aiden tried not to fidget as the bus lumbered along, wishing for a cigarette just so he could keep his hands busy. He wanted to talk to Quinn like a normal teenager, but the words kept lodging in his throat like pieces of gravel. Every sentence he thought of sounded foolish and pathetic, but the other boy's presence was just so calming and easy to bask in that Aiden couldn't help but want the conversations to continue.

He rather thought Quinn was right up there with heroin or some other hard drug that seductively took over ones life before they even realized it; now that he'd said more than a handful of words to the other boy, he couldn't seem to stop himself from acting like a damn fool.

He cleared his throat awkwardly as he realized that his stop was quickly approaching. He didn't want to give Quinn up already, but the other boy didn't need a stray mutt chasing him around after school.

"My stop is here, I work a few blocks away." Aiden grimaced as he shifted his belongings, preparing to slide out of the hard plastic chair he didn't really remember being guided into in the first place. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow. In school. I'm sorry if I caused you trouble earlier."

Aiden stood as the bus lurched to a halt, trying to force a smile onto his scarred lips for the other boy. He wasn't sure if he'd managed; all of Aiden's emotions were raw and unsteady following the attack, nausea churning in his gut unpleasantly. He scurried off of the bus before Quinn could formulate any real reply, feeling raw and exposed and ashamed of himself for having a full blown anxiety attack in front of Quinn and the majority of the student body. Quinn was the first kid in his high school career to make such a huge effort to be kind and approachable; he sincerely hoped the other boy wasn't going to be harassed too badly by his friends during school the next day, but the sinking feeling in his gut told him the opposite would probably occur.

With shaking fingers, Aiden fished an abused and wrinkled pack of cigarettes from his bag and relaxed slightly at the ritual of lighting and inhaling. He glanced upwards briefly as the bus lumbered away, catching sight of Quinn in the window and not understanding the weird fluttering in his stomach.

Maybe he'd take the bus again in the morning.






The town was small, old and sparsely populated; most of the people in the area seemed to live or work in the small city just outside of the town. But there was a high school, and he knew this was were he had to be. He had loose strings that needed to be tied up, and nine years later they were still loose. He'd almost managed to cinch the deal several times over the past decade, but things always managed to slip through his fingers; sometimes it was the wrong town, sometimes he'd just missed his target.

Something felt right about this particular town, though.

He glanced down at the wrinkled paper in his left fist, the words burned into his memory and easy to recall as a small, serene smile spread over his chapped lips.

Junior student at Jefferson Memorial High School, Devon Walsh (17), was transported to the local ER yesterday with serious but non life threatening injuries. A representative of the local high school released a statement last night citing a fight as the reasoning behind the student's injuries; it was later released by social services that the other student involved was Aiden Fallon (16), a Sophomore at the same high school. Several members of the student body told local officials that the fight, at first verbal in nature, quickly escalated to violence which resulted in Walsh seeking medical attention for an unknown injury. Fallon was taken into police custody at the school for aggravated assault. Amanda Thompson, Fallon's social services representative, declined further comment at this time.

The paper was ruffled and showed signs of being folded several times, but he knew by finding this small article in a small town paper that he was mere steps behind the boy. His decade of searching was almost over and it was all so very exciting. It always seemed to be the wrong boy, but he'd finish his work eventually; his revenge would be all the sweeter because of the wait.

A lanky teen wandered by on the sidewalk, headphone firmly lodged in his ears and eyes covered by a fringe of dark curls. The eyes were the key, he knew; they were special, he'd never seen eyes quite like the boy's. He was sure the boy bore the marks of their last encounter too, but how much of his art remained on that pale flesh was the mystery. He knew he couldn't track the boy based on his possible appearance (he was such a tiny little boy the last time they'd met, after all) but he most certainly could weed out the impostors.

Silent, like a shadow on a still night, he peeled away from dark door way of a nondescript store and fell in step behind the tall youth. there was no build up of excitement when e contemplated what he was about to do, that euphoria would follow later after the deed was actually done. No, his min was blank and calm, not a ripple of emotion in sight. A quick glance along the street as he stowed the article away showed a lovely emptiness that brought a true smile to his face. The children always just made it so easy.

It was quick work to pull the younger man to his chest and wrap a thick forearm across the slender throat; he sighed in pleasure as the teen fought his hold, the delicate flutter of his pulse increasing in fear. This could be it, this could be the one he'd been searching for all this time; excitement crept into his belly, mingling with the thick arousal writhing inside of him as the boy's struggles grew clumsy and weak. Dare he peak into the boy's face and ruin the game so soon?

Eagerly, he fisted the thick black hair and twisted the gray face towards his own in the mockery of a kiss. The boy's lips were blue and glistening in the dim streetlight as he gagged and choked, and that was very pleasing.

The brown eyes, however, were very upsetting. In a flash, his elation and pleasure evaporated, leaving behind only rage. He hardly noticed the satisfying drunk of bone as he slammed the boy' forehead against the grimy brick lining the alley he'd pulled them into. The eyes were all wrong, the face not even remotely similar to the one he saw every night in his dreams, the dreams in which he relived his one and only slip up.

The boy was crumpled at his feet, groaning in a guttural, feral way. Blood, dark as pitch in the twilight, was already spreading out from the boy's damaged head like a halo. His anger kept him from enjoying the moment as he normally would, and he knelt down over the prone form with a snarl painted across his face. A small, wickedly sharp knife glittered faintly in the sliver of lamp light before it bit into the delicate flesh just below the boy's ear. Ever so slowly, like a lover's caress, he drew the knife across the rapidly bruising throat, savoring the warm blood that slid across his palm and fingers. The body beneath him twitch violently, blood gurgling up from the lethal wound in hot spurts. He was quick to stand up and avoid the growing puddle of blood surrounding the dying boy, a grin once more on his face. He wiped the blade clean on the teen's Tshirt, and simply stood there quietly as the body slowly grew still.

Perhaps he was going things wrong... Perhaps it was time to smoke the boy out of his hiding place, just like the last time they'd played hide and seek together. He fished the wrinkled article from his pocket and dropped it onto the boy's chest, marveling at the little maroon spots that began to blossom randomly on the paper.

He stepped out on the alley once more without even glancing around, zipping his jacket up as he went to cover the blood splattering across his chest.

He'd find the boy eventually, he could feel it. The world was only so big after all, and he was so very determined.