𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆𝖍

01: IT’S NOT A FASHION STATEMENT, IT’S A DEATHWISH. — “do you remember that day when we met? you told me this gets harder. well, it did.”

wc: 15.2k. warnings: bullying/violence, blood, f-slur (x1), awkward/angsty teens lmao. masterlist.

author’s note: dedicating this first chapter to @abstem1us who has honestly singlehandedly given me the motivation to keep writing this story lol. for everyone else, if you’ve never read my work before— yes, every chapter will probably be this long and self-indulgent. i’m obnoxious. much love. <3

☆ cincinnati, ohio. february, 2008. dahlia’s pov.

★

"i can't for the life of me figure out what you're so anxious about, sweetheart." my mother's frail hands fumbled with the package of aluminum foil between her fingers, covering up the glass container of food on the kitchen counter. "i know you have trouble meeting new people, but the biersacks really are the kindest couple,"

"uh, i’m pretty sure it's not them she's worried about, ma." i could hear my brother amusedly mumbling under his breath as he walked closer to my side.

"shut up." i lifted my head from where i'd had it rested in my hands, tossing my elbows off of the kitchen table and glowering right through him when i knew he could see me. he grinned, unfazed.

"oh, bug.” mom gently shook her head, her shoulders dropping when she looked between damien and i, as if what he’d said had somewhat relieved her. “don’t tell me you’re all worked up over that boy.” she almost laughed. “he seems harmless. i don’t think i’ve ever even heard him speak."

"i don’t know. in her defense, he does kind of look like he sleeps in a coffin. she’s probably scared he’s gonna bite her neck, or something.” damien commented, just before he turned back to me with a devious, half smile on his mouth. “or is that more like what you’re hoping for?” his now slightly hushed, teasing words shrouded my face and neck in crimson as he playfully shoved my shoulder with his balled up fist. i grit my teeth behind my lips, burning and pushing him away.

just as my mom shot him a firm look, and i opened my mouth to fire back at his endless picking, our father walked into the room. just the sound of his footsteps immediately shifted all three of our relaxed demeanors.

“harmless is hardly the word i’d use, val,” he said, fixing the collar of his button up shirt while he put his two cents in on a conversation i wasn’t aware he’d even been close enough to overhear. “have you seen that son of theirs? kid’s definitely got a couple of screws loose.” he pessimistically shut down my mom’s much brighter perspective, as was usually par for the course. "if you ask me, she’s better off being a little scared of him.” he spoke his opinion so starkly, as if he had a clue.

“james,” my mother muttered with sympathy as he came nearer to her, only for him to unapologetically change the subject.

“speaking of—” he began. “i thought we agreed you were gonna get all that mess out of her hair before she started at school.” a chill ran down my spine as he redirected his endless criticism to point towards me, uttering his words as if turning his back to my eyes would keep me from hearing them.

i fought to swallow the lump suddenly lodged in my throat, feeling my brother’s softening gaze digging into the side of my head as i hung it low, rearranging my now slightly faded, blue hair all to one side of my neck.

“it makes her happy, jay.” mom defended me, gently, as she always did, lowering her voice while she spoke of the impulsive decision she allowed me to make just a few weeks prior— staining both of our hands with grocery store hair dye when i was feeling particularly emotional about how much my life was about to change in such a small amount of time. “the day we did that was the first time i saw her smile in weeks.”

he let out a scoff, almost before she was even finished speaking. “what’s next? letting her get tattoos? maybe drop out of school, because it ‘makes her happy?’ she’s a child. what could possibly be so terrible about her life that—?

“so, have you made any friends yet?” damien’s voice suddenly turned genuine, while he moved to stand in front of me, blocking what i could see of my parents out of my peripheral vision. he distracted me just long enough from the tense conversation in the opposite corner of the kitchen that i missed the rest of my dad’s dismissive comment, but not much else.

“if you had any idea how much of a toll this has all been taking on her,”

“people in this town knew and respected my father. i don’t need anyone seeing her; hearing her last name, and thinking i condone this kind of behavior—”

“no, not really.” i finally answered, setting my hands in my lap and nervously picking at the skin of my cuticles.

“is everyone ready to go?” my mother purposefully overpowered her husband’s attempt to keep their argument alive, turning her body completely away from him and calling for my and damien’s attention. aside from the shuffling of feet, and jackets being thrown over arms and closed up, we left the house wrapped in a thin blanket of tense silence.

i clung to the heavy, zip up hoodie around me as we left our new home behind, and began our short walk through the cold, mid-winter evening winds. i’d become so distracted mindlessly counting every step my shoes took against the sidewalk, my body flinched when i felt my mom rest a comforting hand between my shoulder blades. we shared a knowing look as we fell behind my dad and brother, until we all met again at the front steps of our next door neighbor’s house. she only left my side when it came time to approach the entrance of the home, carefully opening the glass storm door and pressing the little button upon the frame to ring the bell.

muffled footsteps from beyond the door came quickly. "hi,” the bubbly, redheaded woman behind the threshold grinned and greeted our family when it opened, offering to take the dish rested on my mother’s hip as she let us all into the house. "so great to see you again."

"we've been looking forward to it." she accepted the hug with open arms. we all piled into the entryway as she led us, re-introducing us all to her husband as he came around the corner from the hallway.

"andy! come downstairs, please!" i flinched as mrs. biersack's voice raised to call for her son, before she followed after us again. relief and disappointment somehow joined hands within me when silence remained in the stairway.

damien and i took off our outer layers and sat quietly next to each other at the otherwise empty dining room table, while the adults stood in the connecting room and started on a conversation we were equally disinterested in participating in. my eyes darted around, twiddling with my fingers and swinging my feet slowly.

"hey— i know i’ve been pickin’ on you, but seriously. you look like you’re gonna throw up. are you doing okay?" he asked, that sincere sound returning to his voice. i could feel him looking me up and down as i stared at the wooden top of the table.

"i'm fine. i just," i murmured my white lie, shaking my head as i lifted it to face him. "i don’t know. i think just need a second." i tossed my legs over the side of the chair i'd just sat down in, walking over to peek through the open doorway that divided the rooms. "i'm sorry, um.. could i use your restroom?" i meekly interrupted their discussion, locking eyes with the woman who’d showed us in the house just minutes before.

"of course, sweetheart. if you go around the corner right there in the hallway, it's up the stairs and to the left.” mrs. biersack stepped forward a bit, pointing me in the right direction. just as i started to pivot, she continued. “oh, and if you happen to run into my selectively deaf son,” her sarcasm was evident. “would you see if you can get him to come back down with you? he might listen to you better than me."

"uh,” her words brought a light blush to my face, leaving me to silently ponder whether they carried any weight. “sure. thank you." i gave her a weak smile, despite knowing exactly how slim of a chance there was that i'd even attempt to do what she’d asked of me. she beamed just before she began to turn back to where she’d left my parents and her husband.

my legs carried me slowly until i knew i was out of sight, when i tightened my arms around myself and speed walked to the steep staircase that led to the second floor. my fingers coiled to the railing as i zipped up the carpeted steps, made it to the top, wandered down the hallway and shut myself behind the bathroom door, all in less than sixty seconds. i flicked on the switch just inside the doorway, immediately making eye contact with myself in the mirror. a sigh, heavy with discontent, filled my lungs and escaped through my lips at the sight. every detail i less than adored seemed to shine under the warm gleam of the lights above my head.

“stupid, fucking—“ my flair for the dramatic sent my foot flying into an ultimately rather anticlimactic, frustrated kick at the doorway i’d just walked through. “get a hold of yourself.” i mumbled, cradling my forehead in my hands as i let my back gently hit the wall behind me.

it was approaching a month since my parents had practically dragged me kicking and screaming out of the only home i’d ever known in portland, oregon to live in the middle of nowhere outside of cincinnati, ohio. every second since we’d unloaded that moving truck had been nothing short of miserable, and things didn’t seem like they were going to start looking up any time soon.

for the first time in my life, i was truly left completely to my own devices. with my brother starting spring semester classes at university of cincinnati, my mom settling into her new evening and overnight job at the local hospital, and my dad, who’s absence i didn’t mind quite as much, dealing with the stress of taking over his late father’s business— i spent the majority of my time with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company.

i was far too realistic of a creature to not know that being thrown into a new school in the middle of the academic year was going to be hell, but just how awful it all turned out to be exceeded even the most cynical of my expectations.

i’d still hardly learned my way around the maze of hallways i was walking every day; the sheer amount of bodies filling them was overwhelming on it’s own, compared to the stuffy, catholic school my father insisted on sending me to back home.

i was spinning in circles trying not to fall even further behind the rest of my classmates in nearly every subject. the only ‘friend’ i felt i’d made thus far was my middle aged music teacher, who was kind enough to let me take up space on the bench of her grand piano during my lunch period and after school, when everyone else had gone home. the possibility that i’d ever build up the audacity to speak to another living soul while i was in that god forsaken building was proving itself to be out of the question. and frankly, i was beginning to feel i had no interest.

that was all before i saw him.

my father had drilled it into my brain early in life, exactly how i could secure a future for myself; being obsessively focused, studious to a fault, and ultimately, cold and shut off to most everyone around me, like he was. i’d almost prided myself on not wasting my adolescence on the same, juvenile things my peers seemed so consumed with— all of the social hierarchies, dating and such. before we moved to ohio, i’d hardly as much as lifted my head to glance at a guy around my age.

but there was something about him— that pale, raven haired boy that stuck out like a sore thumb in my third period english class— that i just couldn’t shake to save my life.

from that gloomy morning i saw him for the very first time, walking in the doorway, ten minutes late with one of his wired headphones hanging from his ear, i felt like a fish on a hook. and the worst part was that he really hadn’t done anything at all; aside from sitting in the only empty chair in the room, next to me in the far, back corner. yet, just his presence seemed to make the blood pump faster to my heart.

him, and his almost wolf-like blue eyes, often lined with black eyeshadow; the black, hoop piercing running through his plump, lower lip; his long legs, and lanky, lightly tattooed arms; that disinterested look he was always wearing on his face. catching little glimpses of him in the classes that we shared became the only thing i looked forward to in those long days. that was, whenever he decided to show up.

andy, i’d eventually learned was the name of the mystery boy i’d been melodramatically lamenting about to the journal i kept glued to my person at all times. i felt ridiculous, overtaken with an emotion so foreign to me, absentmindedly penning little hearts around presumptive words about a boy that i truly, hardly knew from adam; a boy who probably barely even knew i was alive.

but i couldn’t help but feel like we shared a similar disposition. i desperately wanted to know more, what laid behind the surface of his violently antisocial exterior; to even just know what his voice sounded like. there was just one problem— i couldn’t bring myself to speak to him on my own if there was a gun to my head.

i fought tirelessly to convince myself that it was all just butterflies in my stomach, a feeling that would fade eventually as time went on. surely, there had to be something wrong with him; something i would find so obnoxious or unattractive that i’d finally be rid of this embarrassing feeling in my gut.

but as those days went by and nothing of the sort seemed to jump out at me, i found out just how much more embarrassing things could really become.

that thursday was just like any other day, repetitive and draining until the last bell freed me to start on the long walk back to my locker, which was nestled nearly all the way into a dead end corner of the hallway it belonged to. i followed the same routine i’d been falling into since my untimely arrival in this midwest ghost town’s only public high school— hiding away behind the gray, metal door i’d been assigned among the many lining the brick walls, as the building slowly emptied. i’d take my sweet time to collect my things, knowing that if i lingered just long enough, there was a chance i’d see him stop by his own locker, which was all too ironically only about ten steps away from mine.

“i know it, i can’t feel it. well, i know it enough to believe it. and i know it, i can’t see it. but i know it enough to believe it..”

the hot pink earbuds connected to the clunky, black ipod in the front pocket of my skinny jeans played the fifth track of the 90’s grunge album as i sorted aimlessly through my folder of sheet music. no matter how much of a dick he was to me sometimes, every time i pressed the big, round button on that handheld player, i silently thanked my brother for handing it down to me. fading away into the records i loved, and the ones he’d left behind on the little device, seemed to be the only thing that worked to remedy the perpetual state of self pity i was stuck in those days.

“to better you, to better me. my bitter half has bitten me. it’s better than you, it’s better than me. sleeping with my enemy myself..”

courtney love’s voice pounded against my left eardrum, coaxing me to pick up the right wire of my headphones from where it hung at my chest to completely drown out any other sounds around me, and ultimately give up on what i was hoping for.

truly, i couldn’t explain why i ever bothered to wait. it was so rare that he even stayed the whole span of the school day, let alone remained in the halls after most of our so-called peers were long gone. more often than not, he’d vanish like a ghost halfway through, leaving me to wonder when i’d see him again; sometimes he wouldn’t come back for days at a time. i shook my head at the ground, something like shame aching in my bones— this awful, puppy love was blinding my otherwise rational sense of direction, and i couldn’t stand it.

“the pieces of jennifer’s body, found pieces of jennifer’s body..”

i rolled my eyes at my own behavior before i finally pulled myself together enough to wrap my free hand around the cold edge of the metal, locker door shielding me from the view of the rest of the hallway. but just as its old hinges began to creak, the gentle sound of thick, boot heels clicking against the white, tile floor in the distance begged for my attention. as if i’d summoned him with my doubt, there he was— coming just around the corner that became the near empty, dead end hallway, walking with his head down.

“just relax, just relax, just go to sleep..”

my body stilled with every step closer he came, while he remained completely distracted by whatever was displayed across the screen of the phone in his palm. the inhale that had began its journey to my lungs halted in my throat when i watched his arctic eyes flick upwards, as if he was inspecting his peripheral vision for something he was unsure whether he’d seen. instinct forced to me to shy away when our pupils suddenly locked like opposite magnets, hiding right back behind my locker door.

very subtle, dahlia, my subconscious berated me, immediately assuming the worst of his impression of me now that i’d been caught red handed. but much to my surprise, i spotted him again out of the corner of my eye— taking a step out into the middle of the hall, and leaning his head just enough to the side to see me despite my attempt to camouflage myself.

he’d taken one of the wired earbuds sticking out from his backpack out, squeezing it between his black-nailed thumb and finger. i worried my heart might beat right out of my sternum when he let it fall to bounce off his chest, using his hand to gently wave at me instead.

as he came closer to what i shamefully memorized as his locker, the sheepish, side smile on his pierced mouth had almost coaxed my arm up to shyly return his silent ‘hello’— only to watch it vanish off of his face when his slim body pivoted towards the row of metal doors.

it was only then that i’d seen it; the messily arranged pieces of paper littering his locker door, each one haphazardly decorated with cruel words written in permanent marker. only the most typical bullshit and name calling— fag, kill yourself, freak, and so on. nothing particularly original or intelligent, but cruel nonetheless.

“jesus christ,” i read his lips from the distance between us as he let his head fall back for a beat, before he straightened his long neck with a huff and reached forward to destroy the evidence. the sound of paper crumbling between his palms and the frustrated, but less than shocked look painting his face told me this was far from the first time something like this had happened.

sympathy filled my bones as something gravitational pulled me towards him, desperately trying to lure me from where my feet were glued to the tile floor, and simply ask him if he was alright. i’d nearly convinced myself i was brave enough, just in time for an absolutely grating sound to enter the hallway, and send goosebumps running rampant up my spine.

“what, biersack? don’t like what we did with the place?” a male voice mocked in the near distance. i peeked out to see a pair of practically identical, jock-y boys i couldn’t be bothered to learn the names of stomping by andy, as if they were waiting around for him to notice their handiwork. their chuckling was like nails on a chalkboard.

a judgemental scowl touched my lips. someone should really tell these assholes it’s not fucking nineteen eighty five anymore, i thought to myself as i studied them from my hideaway, sure to not make any sudden movements or sounds.

“ha. ha.” he responded with what sounded like the fakest laugh he could muster, not moving even an inch to give them the time of day, let alone make eye contact. “suck my dick.” he hissed as he tore the last, homemade sign off of his locker, balling it up and throwing it to the ground.

my shoulders flinched hard as the unmistakable sound of a body slamming against metal filled the air, hardly but a few seconds after the words left andy’s mouth. my skin turned cold at the sight i knew i would find— him pinned by one of his scrawny shoulders, caught between the wall and two young men much broader than him. still even, the firm expression on his pale face was unrelenting, not a stitch of fear showing in his features; only pure vexation.

“the fuck did you say to me?” the boy with his grip wound tightly to andy’s upper arm snarled, so clearly threatened by such a small bruise on his planet-sized ego.

“you’re right. i’m sorry,” he faked him out with a faux submission and a shake of his head, all just to double down— “i said suck my fat cock.” he only changed his tune to become more vulgar as he leaned forward, spitting the same words right back in his face. “get the fuck off of me.” he snarled, using his free arm to shove his attacker away, but to no avail. i clamped my hand over my mouth to deaden the sound of my own gasp when i watched as a fist flew right into his face, my gut twisting at the groan that escaped his throat. “what the fuck.” he swore as he covered his battered nose with his hand, crimson beginning to pool into the gaps between his fingers.

“go ahead. fucking say it again.” the young man barked after his calloused knuckles had met their target, while his clone joined in on the torment, pulling andy by the back of his t-shirt, forcing him to stand up straight again. i recoiled at the sight of the blood staining the lower half of his face as he winced in pain, somehow still holding his head high, even when it was so clear he was outnumbered.

i knew i couldn’t stomach watching another second of this awful scene go on, standing by, cowering and doing nothing to help. i had no way of knowing what would happen if i were to throw myself in the crossfire; if these two, particular boys even had enough of a moral conscious to not put their hands on a five foot nothing girl, if i got involved. but i slammed my locker door shut as loud as i could while i still had the gall— immediately calling their attention to me instead as the sound echoed through the corridor.

the shout i was prepared to let out had barely filled my lungs when, seemingly just at the sight of me, the pair shared a quick, knowing glance, one muttering an “oh, shit,” before they threw andy to the side like a rag doll and scattered. i could hardly believe how quickly their confidence vanished. the only explanation i could muster for the panic in their eyes was that they simply weren’t smart enough to realize they weren’t alone before they cornered him. at the end of the day, the details of why didn’t matter to me; i was just relieved they were gone.

but it didn’t take long for that airy, peaceful feeling to dissipate. my legs carried me a few, audacious steps towards him as he struggled out of the ragged lean he’d been forced into against the wall of lockers.

“are you okay?” three troubled words flew from my lips as i watched him steady back onto his feet, reach up to his nose and flinch at his own touch.

his eyes, much heavier than before, flicked up towards me at the sound of my voice, with a gaze that i swore would’ve cut right through my skin if he hadn’t turned away. swiftly, he picked up the bag that had fallen from his shoulder off of the floor, and began to walk away as if i hadn’t said anything at all; as if i wasn’t even there.

“andy,” my quiet, sympathetic call of his name had hardly touched the air before he shoulder-checked me as he pushed by, his head tucked down into his chest.

“fuck off.” my heart sunk at how he chose to dismiss me when our arms roughly collided. complete silence would have stung less. he pushed himself through the swinging, double doors at the end of the hallway and disappeared from my sight as quickly as possible. it had been a good while since i’d sincerely called to the god my parents raised me to know, but in that moment, as regret made a home in me, i prayed that i could just disappear.

he didn’t show up to school the next day, which wasn’t exactly uncharacteristic. but that little, insecure voice in my head wouldn’t go away until i’d convinced myself it was because of me. the nauseous feeling threatening my body every time my mind lingered back to the memory of the day before was enough to convince me to never even look his way again. i was too embarrassed to even just face him; i was sure i’d killed and buried the possibility of us ever exchanging as much as a word going forward.

but unfortunately for me, much like just about everything in my life around that time, things didn’t go how i’d planned them to.

for whatever reason, i couldn’t settle that friday night. the digital clock on the nightstand in my still only half-unpacked bedroom glowed a white ‘1:47am’ as i penned some series of melodramatic words onto a new page in my notebook. the period i’d dotted next to the single sentence i’d written had yet to dry when an explosion of noise from beyond my second floor window ruined the still tranquility of the midnight— the distinct sound of a loud, car engine, and tires screeching as they made a last second turn.

as it often did, my curiosity got the best of me when i realized the mystery vehicle’s stereo was blasting an early afi song i’d heard no less than a hundred times before in the passenger seat of my brother’s old pickup— “the boy who destroyed the world.”

i slipped off of the edge of my bed and carried myself to my window to follow the sound, pulling the curtain open with an irritated yank. i wondered who in their right mind would ever do something so obnoxious in the middle of the night, in such a terribly quiet neighborhood, no less.

nothing could have prepared me for just how cold my blood ran through my veins when my tired eyes landed on the culprit, climbing out of the front seat of his old, beat up car, far below in the driveway next door to mine.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” i mumbled under my breath as i slumped against my window pane, trying to convince myself for even a split second that i could’ve been wrong. but his details were far too incriminating for me to have been mistaken, even from the distance between us. him and his pale skin, black clothes, and shaggy hair, splitting between his fingers as he ran his hand through his bangs. there wasn’t a doubt in my mind it was him, i just couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to notice— to realize that the boy who’d been plaguing my thoughts lived all of about fifty feet from where i laid my head at night.

my pupils followed his footsteps from the second he slammed his driver side door closed, to when his image disappeared into the front doorway of his home. i pulled my curtain closed again, turning my body just enough to press my spine to the wall and slide down to the floor. i allowed the thought to cross my mind, that it couldn’t possibly get any worse than this, as i tucked my head between my knees; that surely this was the last punchline in this long, fucked up joke the universe was clearly trying to tell me.

but all it would take was one night of tossing and turning to pass for me to realize the worst had yet to come— when my mother, sweet and oblivious as she was, optimistically greeted me with our plans for the evening when i finally drudged downstairs that morning. we’d been invited to our next door neighbor’s house for dinner, and short of faking a medical emergency, there was nothing i could do to get out of it.

which all brings me to where i found myself in the present— shut in the bathroom of what i could only assume was andy’s childhood home, dreading the moment he would see me. after our last interaction, there was no doubt in my mind that he hated my guts. my head was spinning in circles, dreaming up how vexed he’d be to see me in his house, of all places. i was sure i’d have to avoid even looking his way all evening, that he’d be dead staring me from across the table if i dared to lift my head during dinner. the pressure and anxiety of what i’d made myself believe was enough to make me consider staying locked behind that door for as long as i could get away with.

i could hardly make sense of my own behavior— why, even though i was so sure his first impression of me was completely and utterly irredeemable, that i was still staring into the same, dimly backlit mirror on the wall, overthinking even the most insignificant of my details.

why, before we arrived, i’d spent an hour throwing clothes all over the floor of my bedroom, until i had no other choice but to wear the plain outfit i’d thrown on when my mom called me downstairs to get ready to leave— the same pair of black, low rise skinny jeans i wore every day, and a matching henley top layered over a gray camisole. and somehow, i still walked out of the house unsure of myself.

why, if there was no point in trying to earn his favor, was i leaning against the sinktop, readjusting the dainty, silver cross pendant around my neck for the hundredth time, worrying that the nervous flush on my face was ruining the hard work i’d put into my makeup.

the why to it all may have been lost on me— but i was self aware enough to know exactly what was motivating my obsession, even if it felt pathetic to admit it. that even though the only words he’d ever spoken to me were a vulgar rejection delivered through bloody lips and clenched teeth, i still wanted to impress him. there was something magnetic and unrelenting pulling me towards him, and all i wanted to do was turn it off.

as much as i would’ve loved to make myself comfortable on the tile floor of that tiny, quiet bathroom and avoid everything i’d been fretting over all day— i was mature enough to know i couldn’t. or, at least smart enough to know i couldn’t possibly get away with it. no, instead, i had to get it together; survive the next few, suffocatingly awkward hours until i could go home, face plant into my pillows, and recover from yet another precious day of my only life, wasted in this suburban hellscape.

i gave my reflection a final glance as a long, forced inhale filled my chest and slowly escaped through my lips. with my head tucked down, i loosely wrapped my fingers around the metal doorknob and let myself back out into the hallway. my gaze glued to the floor, allowing my hazy muscle memory of the hallway to guide me on my way back to the top of the staircase.

i only managed to take a few steps forward before my peripheral vision proved itself completely useless, when i felt myself harshly collide with what i immediately knew was another body— one much taller, broader than my own. the muted clatter of what i was almost positive was a cell phone falling to the carpeted floor carried itself to my ears. my arms instinctively shot up to find the balance i’d nearly lost, tragically meshing my palms against a warm chest.

“sorry!” i squeaked, mortified as i pulled my hands away, a sudden heat overwhelming my skin and shrouding me in red.

“woah—” a deep, gravely voice filled my ears and left me with a sense of familiarity, making me realize exactly whose firm grip my tense shoulders were now caught between. “uh,” he stammered. my throat dried up and left me without a word to say when i forced my neck to hesitantly crane upwards, finding none other than the very face i’d been so nervous to see. our height difference was abysmal, certainly not helping to remedy how intimidated i already was by him; the top of my head just barely lining up with the middle of his chest. “hey.” his pierced lips opened once more— just one, awkward greeting from his mouth enough to worsen the already frantic beating in my sternum.

“hi.” i muttered, averting my gaze from his diamond blues, meekly holding my forearms against myself when he hadn’t yet loosened his oddly protective hold on me. the smell of spray bottle cologne and cheap cigarettes filled my senses in those brief seconds our bodies remained so close— a combination of scents i would’ve probably found nothing short of nauseating just six months before, was now making my heart flutter out of control. neither of us seemed to think to move a muscle as his thumbs pressed softly into my upper arms.

“fuck, that is tonight, isn’t it?” a rhetorical question fell sharply from his tongue when he finally rid me of the feeling of his long fingers encasing my biceps. i chewed on the inside of my cheek as i took a shaky step away from the heat of his body, still unable to look anywhere but the floor. “can’t stand it when they do this shit. as if i feel like spending my saturday night small talking with people i don’t even..” he carried on, grumbling his frustrations with his parents to the void.

his voice had begun to gently fade from me as my anxiousness draped a thin veil of static over my ears, only to be ripped away when he halted halfway through a sentence i’d barely heard. my every nerve stood at attention when he laid his hand back on my shoulder.

“woah,” he repeated, just like before. “are you good?” he asked with a tone i was shocked to hear— something like genuine concern.

“what?” i asked when my head came instinctively back up at the sensation of his touch.

“i don’t know. you’re, like— transparent.” he leaned down just slightly, as if to get a better look at me. “you okay?”

all it took was those crystal eyes of his scattering over me to make me feel as if my vocal cords had been cut in half. but what had really, truly left me without words was how gentle he was being with me; the kind tone in his low voice as he made nearly the same observation my brother had just minutes before. i must really look awful, i pondered, lost in my thoughts until the moment quickly caught up to me, making me realize just how long i’d been staring up at him in complete silence. his dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“sorry,” i finally forced a response from my dry throat, searching my mind for an answer, knowing i certainly couldn’t tell the truth— that he made me so humiliatingly nervous. “i have, uh, low iron. like, if i stand up too fast, i get dizzy, ‘n stuff.” my line of sight fell to my own hands as i murmured a half-lie; something true, but completely irrelevant to the situation.

“do you need to, like, sit down, or something? my room’s right there.” his misguided, yet gracious offer brought my attention right back up to him in a silent panic, my pupils bounding between him and the cracked open doorway he was motioning towards. i could just barely see inside from where i was stood, enough to spot the countless posters covering the walls, and an unmade bed.

“no, i’m fine. really.” i shook my head, delusively hoping he’d missed the subtle crack to my timbre when my lips formed the word ‘no.’ “besides, i should probably.. get back down there.” i spared him the extra details; specifically the ones about how my dad would undoubtedly have both of our heads if i was gone long enough for him to put the pieces together— that i was not only talking to the boy he’d been condemning hardly a half hour before, but that i was alone with him, in his bedroom.

for a fleeting second, i thought i’d found an out, as i tucked my head back down and took a step towards the staircase.

“dahlia, wait.” my name suddenly on his tongue would have been more than enough to paralyze me on its own, but coupled with how his outstretched hand wound around my bicep and tugged me effortlessly back into him, i was sure my heart skipped a beat.

i peered up at him, wide eyed, with my bottom lip caught between my teeth. his grip on my arm loosened, as if he’d regretted being so forward. yet, he still had my full attention squeezed tightly between his fingers.

“uh,” his voice stalled as his hand hesitantly fell away from me. “could we.. talk? like, just for a second?”

despite how my better judgement screamed in my ear the moment i heard what he’d asked of me, he got me behind that door with ease.

my eyes danced around the four, excessively decorated walls now surrounding me as i slowly sat down on the very edge of his bed. i waited patiently as he turned off the misfits song playing on his stereo, folding my hands in my tightly wound lap.

“okay, uh,” my pulse sped right back up at the gentle sound of his sigh, just as i had begun to convince myself to relax. he seemed to purposefully avoid looking my way as he turned back in my direction, his fingers coursing through the strands of midnight on his head. he loosely crossed his arms as he leaned his lower back against the edge of the desk behind him. “here’s the deal..” he stalled, as if he hadn’t quite come up with the words yet.

he let his head slightly back as he quietly breathed out, like something was weighing too heavy on his mind for him to hold it upright. when his spine straightened, our eyes met just like they had in the hall that day, the last time i’d seen his face— instantaneously, and unavoidably.

we both grew rigid for a moment, staring back at the other, equally in wait, until he finally turned his head. i felt like i could breathe for those mere seconds in between, before his footsteps carried him to meet me at the edge of his bed, creating his own dent in the comforter beneath us when he sat by my side. his hands folded into each other to make a fist and laid between his slightly open thighs as he gazed upon me, a look i was hesitant to recognize as shame taking over his expression.

“i just wanted to say sorry for being such a dick the other day.” his deep voice carried a sound so soft and genuine, that i could hardly believe what i was hearing. his eyes fell from mine once again as i silently questioned my intuition. “i don’t know what it is about you that has me feelin’ all guilty ‘n shit, but,” he grumbled, only to stop short when his head lifted back to my level, his adams apple bobbing as his lips briefly sealed shut. “um,” he stammered. “you didn’t do anything to deserve that. telling you to fuck off, ‘n everything. i know you were just trying to be nice.”

his knee bounced as he recounted the moment that had been playing in my head for days now; one i was shocked he even remembered. i never would have imagined he’d been carrying it around himself.

“just not exactly a huge boost to my ego to get, like, kind of saved from a fight by a girl half my size. i was a little embarrassed, if you can understand that.” he muttered to the black nails on his fingertips before our pupils glued together once more. “but i shouldn’t have snapped at you. i’m sorry. i mean it.”

for a breath or two, i could hardly open my mouth; the nightmare scenario i’d created in my head leading up to that evening had crumbled and turned to dust right before my eyes in just a matter of seconds. and i hadn’t a clue what to make of it. but as those seconds continued to pass, he was watching me, waiting. i had to spit something out.

“it’s okay.” i said. he subtly shook his head at the two, merciful words before they’d even fully formed on my lips.

“yeah, except it’s really not. but i appreciate you saying it, anyway.” he graciously refused my forgiveness, like he was sure he didn’t deserve it. little did he know, that in my mind, his slate was wiped clean the second he uttered that first ‘sorry.’

our meshed silence permeated the already quiet room, a thick tension i couldn’t put a name to settling between us like a third body. the sound of my own heartbeat in my ear had become terribly noticeable, only growing more frantic when i caught the round, inky centers of his cloudy blues dancing from my eyes to my shaky mouth, and back again. i knew i must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights— completely frozen every time he looked so closely at me.

“um,” that stutter i swore i’d heard him mumble a hundred times now fell from his lips as he pivoted his neck away. “that’s it, i guess.” despite how the words he spoke said the opposite, something in his heavy exhale told me that he was carrying the weight of so much more than what he’d admitted. “just felt like i needed to say that. sorry i held you up.” he chattered, softly, before suddenly pushing himself back onto his feet. “you can go if you want. join everyone else.” he wandered back to the messy tabletop across the room, turning away from me to mindlessly flick through the stack of cds next to his stereo. “maybe let my mom know i’d literally rather slit my own throat than—”

i assumed that his grumbling would’ve ended with some damnation of our family’s shared plans for the evening, but i just couldn’t seem to keep my mouth shut. “does this happen a lot?” i asked, my voice shockingly overpowering his enough to stop him in his tracks. his shoulder turned just a touch, so he could look behind himself.

“what?” his dark brows wrinkled, his confused tone making me wish i could’ve just kept my thoughts to myself— but there was no turning back now.

“the fighting.” i explained, briefly. “does it happen a lot?”

an amused scoff immediately left him when i repeated myself. “calling getting my ass handed to me ‘fighting’ is pretty generous.” the ironic, half grin on his face faded slowly when i didn’t move an inch, like he’d caught on to just how earnest i was being. “uh,” he cleared his throat. “i don’t exactly go looking for it, but.. yeah. yeah, i guess.” that self-conscious timbre of his from the minutes now behind us returned. “why?” he questioned, sharply, as if such a small amount of sympathy was something so foreign to him.

“i don’t know.” i lied through my teeth, eyes shying away to my palms as they laid atop my knees. but he saw right through my faked indifference.

“don’t waste your time worrying about me, fawn.” he verbally pushed me away, catching me completely off guard with the sound of my last name, enough to persuade my hung head back up. no one had ever called me that before. “god knows you’d be lonely in that.” he grumbled under his breath, instilling a sad, sinking feeling in me. “in fact, if you’re ever around to see something like that happen again— do me a favor and just look the other way.” he commanded. “i shouldn’t have taken it out on you, but you shouldn’t have tried to get involved like you did.” he wouldn’t even glance my way, as he pried open the red and black alkaline trio cd between his hands and placed the disc in the player. “you got lucky. you don’t know those guys. they’re not above much.”

the harsh rhythm of his words reduced me to silence for a beat. “okay.” i finally muttered, not much louder than a mouse. “i’m sorry.” the first track to the record faintly began to play as i studied the pattern of his bedroom floor.

“you don’t have to apologize, just— hey.” the strict tone carrying every syllable he spoke seemed to disappear, just before i could feel his presence slowly drawing near again. “i’m not, like, mad at you, or anything. i just,” he filled the space he’d left on my side, shaking his head as he sat just a touch closer to me than before. “i don’t need anyone to defend my honor, okay?” something almost like a smile threatened his lips, but faded quickly. “‘specially not a little thing like you.” his eyes scanned me up and down, making the blood rush to my cheeks without a touch of mercy. “would’ve weighed on my conscious like crazy if you’d gotten hurt.”

i blinked slowly with a gentle nod, to mutely tell him i understood when the words he’d used to describe me robbed me of any of my own. as if the warmth of his sincerity hadn’t already melted me right into the palm of his hand, his arm carefully raised from his side, guiding his fingers to delicately graze my flushed face, and push the loose strands of blue behind my ear.

“the color’s coming back to your face a bit, i think.” he observed with an innocence to his tone; one i had a hard time believing. either he knew exactly what he was doing, or he was truly just the most oblivious, socially unaware person i’d ever met.

“yeah. uh,” i’d almost forgotten about the fib i’d come up with after our collide in the hallway. “good.” i muttered, touching my own fingertips to the spot his hand had brushed on my cheek. “is, um— is your nose alright?” i quickly changed the subject.

“oh,” he breathed a sardonic sort of laugh. “yeah. that looked a lot worse than it was. still a little sore, but, y’know.” he shrugged his shoulders and my concern off, his ironic grin returning to a flat line. “whatever.”

“it’s not ‘whatever.’” i quietly protested, his eyebrows immediately scrunching up at me. “it’s not fair that they treat you like that.”

“right. i’m gonna let you in on a fun, little secret about life—” he chuckled at me again. “nothing’s fucking fair.” his cynicism showed its face again. “i’m not gonna sit around and wallow because a couple of idiots have an issue with the way i present myself. i don’t need their approval, nor do i want it.”

“i get that, but,” i breathed out. “don’t you think you should say something?” the memory of the two on one clash i’d bared witness to replayed behind my eyes.

“to who—? a teacher?” he questioned, looking back at me like i had three heads. “you’d be hard pressed to find anyone in that place that would take my side. i’m not really what you’d call a star student.” i couldn’t exactly argue with him; the empty seat he often left in the classes we shared was enough to prove him right. “besides, i don’t need any of those assholes thinking they’re getting to me. you can’t give power to people like that. that’s what they want. they’ll get what’s coming to them eventually.”

i didn’t bicker with him any further, coming to know even in the brief time we’d been speaking just how stubborn he was; it might have been a better use of my time to run repeatedly into a brick wall. but it must’ve shown on my face just how unconvinced i still was, a light sigh separating his lips before he spoke again.

“but i think it’s very sweet that you care so much.” he leaned his head down just a hair and hushed his voice, as if he was trying to meet me at my level. he paused for a beat, his cold eyes covering my skin in goosebumps as they wandered up and down my image another time. “even if i can’t really figure out why.”

“i don’t blame you for walking away. i’d do the same if i saw me. i swear it’s not contagious,” matt skiba’s faint vocals were the only thing breaking the soundlessness of the room, while that same sensation of disbelief i felt when he touched me fought for my attention. i thought i was being so terribly transparent, that there was no way he couldn’t see right through the sheer disguise i’d been hiding my feelings behind. my lips parted as we both drowned in the same, awkward silence, but my tongue just couldn’t seem to catch up with my brain.

“what?” he questioned, softly, as if i might scatter like a frightened animal if he raised his voice back to a normal volume.

“how’d you know my name?” he coaxed me to blurt out what’d been plaguing my mind, the sound of his airy chuckle making me feel silly for asking.

“you knew mine, didn’t you?” his one sided grin returned, coupled with a slight crinkle of the pale skin between his brows. i didn’t answer, a bit embarrassed by the reality of this truth; the one he wasn’t aware of. “fawn, you sit next to me in lit every day, and you have blue hair.” he continued, as if every word he said was so glaringly obvious; that i wasn’t nearly as invisible as i assumed i was to him. “i guess i’ve noticed you a few times.” his tone changed— naturally, but completely— to a sound so pillowy and genuine, but so open ended.

the smugness in his smile seemed to fade the longer his words simmered, replaced by something more tender. i felt the hot redness i’d been trying to keep away seeping through my cheeks as he subtly bit at his bottom lip, toying with the metal ring that decorated it. he gazed at me through heavy eyelids, unrelentingly, as if there was anything out of the ordinary to see. it was like his eyes had turned to giant, blue stage lights, shining down on my face and exposing my every feature to their glow.

i couldn’t help but timidly bow my head and shift in my seat, unsure of what to do with my body as i stared at my hands and overanalyzed his words— wondering what exactly ‘noticing’ me entailed.

“so,” my nerves stood at attention when he erased the touch of distance i’d put between us, scooting a bit closer to face me instead of sitting rigidly shoulder to shoulder like we had been. “you’re from portland?” his leg bent up and laid flat on the bed, while he rested his elbow on his knee and leaned just a hair forward.

”uh,” i stuttered, taken aback not only by his question, but how leveled our faces had become. “yeah. yeah.” i nodded, knotting my fingers together as i glanced between him and my lap.

“and..” that borderline devilish curl on the end of his lips reappeared, arriving alongside a confused squint and scrunch of his brows. “what exactly gave your parents the million dollar idea to move to bumfuck, ohio?”

“oh my god,” those three, exasperated words seem to flow more naturally than anything i’d managed to say all evening. “my, uh— my dad grew up about fifteen minutes from here.” i let my lashes grace my cheeks as i gathered the details of oh-so my tragic backstory. “but when he went to school in oregon and met my mom, his dad made him promise that when he died, he’d come back home and take over the family business. and, uh,” i sighed. “he had a pretty massive heart attack in november and didn’t make it, so.” i couldn’t mask my bitterness, even if i wanted to. “here we are, i guess.”

“ah. i’m sorry i said anything.” my head perked up a bit when he put his tail between his legs, as if what he’d asked was so insensitive.

“don’t be.” i quipped, not so reluctant to speak ill of the dead in this particular case. “he was awful. just another bigoted, old, catholic, white guy.” i shut my mouth while i still had the control to, knowing just how long i could grumble of my resentments for that man if i didn’t hold my tongue.

“damn.” he laughed through his nose, grinning like he wasn’t expecting me to be so curt. “alright. fuck ‘em, then.”

“yeah.” i almost felt myself relax enough to smile when he immediately took my side. “i just wish he would’ve waited a little longer to drop dead so i could’ve had a choice in all of this. like, leaving everything i’ve ever known.” the slight grin that had touched my lips faded when i reminded myself of the heartbeat to my troubles as of late. “and to come here of all places. my mom keeps saying i just need to give it time, but,” i fidgeted with my own fingers. “i don’t know how t’explain it. it’s so lonely. feels like i’m standing on the outside of everything looking in, or something.”

i rambled, feeling uncharacteristically transparent until i straightened my neck, finding him exactly where i’d left him; looking over me so attentively, like he might miss something if he dared to glance away.

“i’m sorry,” i backtracked under my breath when he didn’t break the lull of quiet that lingered after my rant. “you didn’t ask to hear all of that.” my eyes fell right back to my hands, embarrassed that i’d let that much of myself show.

“no, i—” he tried to interject.

“it makes a lot more sense in my head.” i continued to try to justify my melancholy, stopping short when he beat me at my own game, speaking right over my insistent voice with a gentle call of my surname.

“fawn,” he won back both my attention and my silence when he naturally shifted closer. “it’s fine. you don’t have to keep, like— apologizing for existing.”

for such a softly spoken string of words, their sentiment hit me like a brick. i stared back at him like my eyes like little planets, frozen in place with nowhere to look but straight into the mirror he’d effortlessly held up to me.

“besides,” he went on before i could fully process the feeling he’d saddled me with. “i know how you feel. really. you have no idea.” he assured me of his empathy, the color of his voice enough to convince even my always so skeptical head.

the black circles that centerpieced his icy blues jumped up and down the features of my face, just like before; as if he had to force himself to look in my eyes, instead of whatever was distracting him below my nose. i almost thought to probe him about it, before he abruptly cleared his throat, sitting up just a touch from the relaxed position he’d settled into.

“so, uh— what did he do?” he changed the subject with a question that left me lost for a moment. “this family business.” he elaborated. “must be important shit if your dad moved you all halfway across the country for it.”

i scoffed when i finally understood. “not exactly. it’s just a funeral home.”

“oh, well. that’s kinda cool, at least.” he replied in a oddly optimistic manner.

“what?” i couldn’t stop the light laugh that escaped me fast enough.

“i don’t know, like— in a creepy sorta way.” he quickly defended himself, joining in on the giggle i was trying to suppress; needless to say, never in my life had i thought to try to see the bright side in my father’s work with dead people.

“if learning everything that’s gonna happen to your body once you die while you’re trying to eat dinner is the kind of thing you’re into. then, uh. yeah. totally.” i reduced my laugh to a little grin as i played along. “it’s not nearly as addams family as it sounds.”

“gotcha.” he pressed his lips back together to form that heartbreaker smile of his. “we don’t have to keep talking about your family.” those nine words would’ve been a breath of a relief, if it wasn’t for the eight that followed them. “i’d honestly much rather know more about you.” his husky voice seemed to purposefully soften as he gave me yet another once over, only slower this time, easily rewaking the butterflies resting in my stomach.

“there’s really not much to know.” my usual timidity suddenly returned to me as i slipped away from the eye contact i’d been managing to hold with him. if there was anything i hated talking about more than myself, i had yet to discover it.

“c’mon. i know that’s not true.” he pushed, obviously not willing to take my passive no as an answer. “i mean, at the risk of sounding like a total creep, i passed by everett’s room while you were playing the other day.” the cold chill of anxiety fell over me when our school choir teacher’s name left him. “that’s somethin’ to know, isn’t it?”

“i guess so.” i muttered, somewhat ignoring his faithful attempts to keep our conversation alive, as every little mistake i could recall making on that piano bench in just the last week rushed over my thoughts like a tsunami wave. every missed key, every cramp in my fingers, every un-memorized note, every twinge of pain running up my spine and shoulders. just the thought that he may have been listening, watching me when i was too in my head to realize i wasn’t alone stained my cheeks scarlet.

“you guess so?” the sound of his disbelief miraculously lured me to face him again, looking up to find him gaping at me, as if i was speaking a language he’d never heard. “i thought she was playing a fuckin’ beethoven cd or something the first time i heard you.” he doubled down, but i still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t just exaggerating to flatter me. “you don’t have to act so humble. you’re really good.”

i fought myself to not visibly cringe at the sound of those two, seemingly harmless words he ended his compliment with, opting instead to fake half a smile, before returning to my gloomy stare at the floor.

“sorry. did i say something wrong—?” he asked, tenderly, as he leaned in to try to get a look at me from behind my hair; he saw right through my act, as if i hadn’t even tried to pretend in the first place.

“no,” i answered, a sigh much like a gasp for air pushing its way out of my teeth. “it’s not you. it’s just— my dad is literally always saying ‘no one gets into julliard on really good.’ that i need to be, like, exceptional if i want to end up anywhere worth being.” i repeated my father’s criticisms nearly verbatim, watching from the side as that puzzled crinkle reappeared between his brows. “just a little ironic, is all.”

“use whatever word you want.” he joked. “you’re, like, crazy talented. i think he oughta give you a bit of a break.”

“i don’t know. he’s kind of right, i—” i winced at the faint sting coming from my left, ring finger, looking down to find where i’d unconsciously ripped into the skin around my cuticle with my nail and accidentally drawn blood; a stress induced habit i’d always had, and could never seem to shake. “i could always be better.” i made two, loose fists to hide the little, fresh wound and all of the slightly healed, red spots on my other nailbeds. “work harder.”

the quiet that followed after i pushed him away for the last time was thick, the look of pity he was giving me creeping up the side of my body like a spider when i refused to glance his way to fully see it.

“julliard, huh?” he mercifully shifted the conversation, earning the smallest nod from me. “is that the dream?”

“sort of, yeah. lately it’s feeling more like the expectation.” i replied, pessimisticly wearing my heart on my sleeve. if he would’ve asked me the same question even just a year prior, i probably would have perked up and talked his ear off; rambled about how i’d fantasized about it since i was small. but realism had been catching up to me, and the dread that i’d fail began to cloud my childlike hope.

“from him?” he asked, dimly. i could hear the disdain for who he would continue to not so affectionately refer to as him building in his voice even then; before i knew just how much more hate his tongue could hold.

“it’s not that i don’t want it too.” i didn’t answer him directly. i felt we both already knew. “because i do. you have no idea. it’s just—” a heavy exhale left me, one that belonged to someone much older, much more weathered than i. “i know he pushes me because he wants me to be successful, but it’s a lot of pressure sometimes. kind of sucks the fun out of playing.”

“i mean, yeah. i can imagine.” he agreed. “that’s a pretty heavy weight to put on a kid. they don’t let much of anyone into that place.”

“i’m aware.” my saddened reply left me through a near whisper, as my stomach sunk at the sound of my own, defeatist thoughts spoken from another mouth.

“i’m not saying you couldn’t do it.” he corrected himself, digging his heels into his opinion just like before. “actually, i think you have the talent part down. i just,” i couldn’t open my mouth fast enough to water down his blind confidence in me before he went on. “i don’t know. i can’t picture someone like you living in new york. feel like the city would eat you alive, or something.”

the hairs on the back of my neck instantly stood at attention, as if my body knew my brain was being challenged. his words provoked not only my ego, but also my spine, forcing it to straighten enough for me to leer at him through narrowed eyes.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” i asked, firmly, only growing hotter when he so obviously had to stop himself from laughing in my face.

“fawn,” he tried to withhold his smile, his cadence full of doubt, like he couldn’t believe i didn’t already know what he was thinking. still, i waited for him to answer, brows pinching as i tightly crossed my arms to show i was serious. but from the patronizing look he was giving me, you would’ve thought i was a puppy showing its baby teeth. “you’re so shy. it’s pretty kill or be killed there. don’t y’think?”

“i’ve lived in a city my whole life. i’m pretty sure i’d learn my way around.” i stood my ground, wrinkling my nose and holding eye contact with him, despite how he continued to chuckle at me.

“okay, big girl. that doesn’t change the fact that you’re, like, three feet tall.” he quipped, taunting me as his laughter melted in a sly, knowing smirk, his eyes studying me. “not to mention probably ninety pounds soaking wet. someone could just throw you over their shoulder and carry you away if they wanted to.”

“that is not—”

“i literally didn’t see you when you fell into me earlier. you’re, like, completely out of my field of vision.” he proudly spoke over my attempt to defend myself, measuring out the distance between the top of our heads with his hand, as if i couldn’t see it clear as day.

“first of all, i’m five foot and a half. that’s only, like, three inches below average.” finally, i cut in, literal as always, as i reached up to push his arm down from where it hovered above me. i knew i was giving him exactly what he wanted, a reaction, but i just couldn’t help myself.

“oh, is it?” he asked, so purposefully condescending, like he couldn’t even pretend to take me seriously. “really hanging onto that half inch for dear life, aren’t you?” i tried to ignore the obvious bait he was dangling in my face, but with the way he raised his brows, chewed on his grin and tilted his head at me, i couldn’t resist biting down.

“i’ve met plenty of people that are shorter than me.” i argued.

“well, yeah. i mean,” he paused, as if he was going to throw me a bone. “i’m pretty sure everyone’s met small children—”

“oh, fuck off.” instinct forced my hand forward, my palm harshly shoving at his shoulder, enough to make him flinch back. his eyes blew up wide on impact, a laugh so warm and full leaving him as he touched his hand to the spot of the blow.

”oh my god. it’s, like, baby’s first cuss word.” he didn’t waver for a second, completely unfazed by my efforts to push him away. "i guess i kinda had that one coming, huh?” he asked, answered only by my silence. “aw, what? are you mad at me now?” his sarcastic condolence carried itself to my ears when i let the seconds roll by without saying another word. his knuckles gently but repeatedly pressed into the side of my arm, pestering me until i budged.

“you’re being a jerk.” i grumbled when i finally, blindly swatted at his hand, turning my head away to avoid his gaze when his teasing painted me cherry red. i nervously pulled on the ends of my long sleeves, any amount of ease i’d found since i’d walked in that room dissipating. how quickly our conversation derailed to circle around something i quietly hated about myself made my stomach twist in knots.

“i’m just fucking with you, fawn.” he defended his innocence as i sat up uncomfortably straight, beginning to shift further away from him, only to glance to my side and realize there was no bed left to move to. “you’re small. it’s not a bad th— oh, c’mon. where are you going?” he asked through a half laugh as soon as my shoes hit the floor, although something like disappointment seemed to interrupt his cockiness when i didn’t stop moving.

“my parents are probably wondering i am.” i quickly made up an excuse, avoiding the temptation to glance his way when he called out to me.

maybe this is it, i thought to myself as his voice turned to white noise behind me, and i set my sights on the closed door across the bedroom. maybe this is what i was looking for, the fatal flaw of his that would finally kill the insufferable feeling in my body every time he did something as simple as look me in the eye. that he was fucking annoying— like a little brother who just couldn’t help but pick at you, prodding at the most vulnerable, insecure parts just to get you to fight back. god knows i got enough of that at home; i had no desire to subject myself to something so pointless and juvenile.

i’d almost fully convinced myself of this quickly made conclusion of mine when i’d made it about two steps away from the edge of his queen sized bed, only to feel the unmistakable grip of his hand wind tightly around my wrist.

“dahlia,” his husky, suddenly kind voice drawled, a sound one would think so simple slowing down time around me.

his repetitive uttering of my last name had little to no effect on me; i’d never learned to identify with that four letter word my father gifted my brother and i. but the way he smoothly pronounced my name, the one that was truly mine, was killing me slowly. like he considered every syllable, as if he savored the way they tasted— dah-li-a— like his lips were fighting to say ‘darling’ instead. i could’ve fallen right into his arms from that alone, but the universe had something much more ironic in mind.

my foggy brain caught up with reality as he seamlessly spun me back around to face him, like i was made of nothing but the oxygen i breathed. unfortunately for my pride, i wasn’t anywhere near as graceful as i was light, instantly gasping when he yanked on my arm and nearly tripping over my own feet. my free hand stuck a rough landing on his shoulder when i felt myself falling and searching for balance, while his opposite palm steadied me by the curve of my waist. that smug, little grin of his sheepishly fought for a place on his mouth as his wide eyes stared up at me.

“i’m sorry. i’ll stop.” he promised, reluctantly taking his hands off of my body and ridding me of the warmth of his touch. “please don’t go.”

his soft plea made me bite down on my tongue and instinctively turn my head away. my arms crossed over my chest in defense, but my feet stayed glued right where they were— stilling my figure between his open legs.

“i wasn’t trying t’hurt your feelings, or anything.” i could see him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye as he went on. “you’re just,” a grin instantly reappeared on his lips when i snuck a glance at him, a breathy kind of laugh slipping out of them. “you’re real fuckin’ cute when you’re mad. i couldn’t help myself.” he tilted his chin up at me, like the evidence of his excuse was right in front of him.

as if his words weren’t enough to make me shake, his hands lifted just enough to grace my hips as he spoke them, caressing the curve in my jeans with his thumbs; so naturally, like he knew that i wouldn’t mind. if i didn’t know better, i would’ve thought my heart completely stopped beating for a moment. a disgruntled look painted my expression as i turned my jaw completely away, scrunching up my nose, lips and brows in utter frustration.

just like that, i thought. one, little apology, a couple blinks of those stupid, blue eyes, and a simple compliment, and i wasn’t mad at him anymore. not even a little. what the hell is wrong with me?

“c’mon. don’t give me that face.” his smile slowly turned to a straight line as he muttered, downturning his brows and tugging on the black hoop threading through his bottom lip with his teeth.

with a great deal of hesitance, i looked him in the eye, only holding firm for about three seconds before i was covering my blushing face with my hands and letting out a sound that was almost involuntary; a groan of pure, genuine exasperation with myself.

“what? what did i do?” his laughter immediately followed the noise i made as i hid in the darkness behind my palms. “why do you keep hiding?” he questioned, not allowing me to break out of his hold on my middle.

“because! you—” i exclaimed, stopping short when i made the grave mistake of allowing my arms to relax just enough that i could see his face; gazing at me with that relaxed, naturally sly look in his frozen blues. “ugh.” i hurriedly shielded my eyes again when i’d seen all the proof i needed. “you keep looking at me like that.” i lamented, getting the brilliant idea to try to pull away from him a second too late.

a little squeak escaped my lips when i felt his grasp on me smoothly shift up, pulling me right back into place by the curved center of my body and startling me enough to make me naturally lower my arms. my pupils bounded down, the single glimpse i caught of his hands around the center of my waist almost taking my breath from me— the tips of his thumbs nearly met one another as his long fingers spread on the small of my back, holding me right where he wanted me to stay. if i could’ve found even an ounce of nerve or self respect, i would’ve reprimanded him; scolded him for throwing me around like a rag doll. but there was something about it, the mere sight of how much bigger he was than me in just about every way, that left me barely able to open my mouth.

“lookin’ at you like what?” there was a gentle earnestness in his heavy voice as he asked me to explain myself, tilting his jaw up to trap me in eye contact. and for a second in time, i believed it; that he could’ve been just blind enough to not see right through me. but the longer he eyed me, slowly and subtly caressing the fabric of my top with the pads of his thumbs, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, until he could no longer hold a straight face. in a matter of seconds, his guilt was written all over his details, but i was sure he felt no remorse. he fucking knew.

the bridge of my nose scrunched hard, hellfire spreading over my cheeks as he smirked so knowingly at me. “oh, you little—” my fist flew at his right shoulder, shutting my mouth before the first, vulgar name i could think to call him fell from it.

“hey, now.” he chuckled, lifting his left hand off of my torso to touch the spot i’d hit twice now on his opposite arm, taking the punch in stride.

“you know exactly what you’re doing.” pushing his other arm away, i finally broke out of the spot he had me locked in, opening up the space between us and turning my back to him for the sake of my sanity. i was so unbearably hot with embarrassment, i wondered if i’d actually start to see steam pouring from my head and into the air around us.

“yeah, i..” his laughter faded as he began to admit exactly what i’d accused him of. “i’ve honestly kind of,” he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure whether he should finish the sentence he’d started. “known the whole time.” his volume fell, the quietest of his words earning the most of my attention.

a cold feeling ran through my body at the speed of light. “what?” my voice cracked just enough to be noticeable as i warily looked over my shoulder, finding a half smile on his pierced mouth and a sympathetic gloss over his eyes.

“that you’ve,” he paused, treading lightly, as if he still wasn’t entirely confident in what was about to roll off his tongue. “got a little thing for me. ‘n you obviously don’t really know how t’feel about it.”

“oh—” my head lowered right back into the safety net of my hands, as i slowly caved into myself, blushing violently and thinking this is it. this is what it feels like to burn alive.

“okay, maybe i haven’t known, necessarily.” he spoke just loud enough that i could hear him over the sound of my own distress.

“—my god.”

“had a pretty strong suspicion is probably more accurate— what’re you doing?” he kept on talking to himself until he noticed me melting down to the ground next to the foot of his bed, laughing at me as i tucked my legs to my chest, draped my arms over my knees and buried my face into them.

“i’m think i’m gonna throw up.” my muffled voice freely admitted, now that i was sure i had nothing worldly left to lose.

“fawn,” his amused sounds grew softer, briefly turning to a warm coo of my name.

“the whole time?” i completely ignored his call, repeating his words back to him, speaking into the sleeves of my shirt.

“well,” he paused, pondering for a moment before he answered with what i was sure was the most blunt turn of phrase he could think of. “whenever you started staring at me all the time, i guess.” i lifted my head just enough to flash my mortified stare at him. “yeah. you haven’t exactly mastered the art of subtlety yet, there, mozart.” he joked, hardly finishing his sentence before i was right back to hiding in my own legs. “i mean, honestly, i thought for sure you’d be totally over me after the other day. but then you came in here all squirmy ‘n shit—”

“oh my god.” my neck turned harshly to rest my temple against my kneecaps, much too humiliated to show even an inch of myself. “you must think i’m such a freak.” i murmured, frozen in place and fixated on the countless posters on the rightmost wall of the bedroom. afi. the sisters of mercy. the misfits. dropkick murphys. social distortion. motley crue. alkaline trio. alkaline trio. alkaline trio— band names echoed and repeated in my head, distracting from the sound of the bedframe shifting behind me.

“i don’t think you realize,” he breathed a faint huff as he made his way down to my level, brushing my shoulder with his own as he settled at my side. “just how weird you’d have to be for me to think that.”

his words briefly soothed the third degree burns on my self-esteem, tempting me to look his way again, but i couldn’t seem to muster the bravery. i only budged to set my chin on top of the arm rested on my knee, sealing my lips shut as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“could you just look at me for a second?” he tried to reel me in gently again.

even completely turned away, i could feel his eyes digging into my skull. but i refused to move an inch to acknowledge him, leaving only the sound of the stereo on the other side of the room to keep him company. a little, weighted breath escaped him when enough time had passed to make it obvious that i wasn’t going to be the one to concede.

“you know what? yeah.” he broke the near silence i’d created. “you’re right. i take it back. you’re a total weirdo.” there was something so temporarily convincing about his tone, i almost started to unravel my legs and come to my feet. but the next line he dropped held me in place. “i mean, really. a girl as pretty as you, giving a guy like me the time of day. there’s gotta be something seriously fuckin’ wrong with you.”

suddenly, his voice was like a magnet, instantly luring all of my attention right back into the palm of his hand. still, my heart was uncertain, hammering against my sternum at a pace so unfamiliar. meekly, i turned to face him again. he tilted his head just enough to get a look at me as it relaxed back against the edge of the mattress, a coy grin growing on his lips.

that first comment he’d made was lighthearted enough to brush off; to not assume he meant anything beyond surface level by it. “you’re real fuckin’ cute when you’re mad,” his voice rang in my head. i’d convinced myself he must have meant it in an ironic sort of sense— cute, like a small animal, or so impossible to take seriously, it was almost cute. i could ignore cute. i could even ignore the way he gently palmed the black denim hugging my hips when he uttered the word. but there was just no escaping the intent in “a girl as pretty as you.”

“you got an extra toe, or something?” he softly nudged the side of my foot with the front of his shoe when i’d gone blank and didn’t respond, startling me enough to shake me back into reality.

“what?” i asked, my voice hushed from being out of use.

“some other type of deformity i can’t see?” his hand loosely wrapped around my forearm, picking it up and tipping his head to the side, as if he was trying to get a closer look to find something out of place.

“no.” i easily slipped my wrist out of his grip, furrowing my brows as the most delicate laugh teased my vocal cords, my body still apprehensive to trust him. he echoed me, visibly adoring the way i reacted to his perpetually tongue-in-cheek way of speaking.

“so,” he carefully approached the stillness that followed our shared, quiet laughter, a touch more solemn than he’d been acting before. “are we, like,” he stalled. “on the same page now?” his voice faded into a mutter as his relaxed eyes fixated on me, dashing to a new detail of my face after every few words. “or are you really gonna make me spell it out?”

i blinked, absentmindedly squeezing my own fingers and chewing one side of my bottom lip close to raw. even if i was almost certain of what he wanted me to say, i couldn’t push it past my teeth. that little bit of doubt kept me right in my mute, comfort zone, staring back at him like i simply didn’t know any better.

“c’mon.” he just about whispered, his pupils shamelessly stilling on my lips for a few, long seconds. those two, slightly dilated, black circles distracted me long enough to keep me from noticing his hand moving towards my left cheek. “you can’t possibly be that innocent.” he tucked the other side of my hair he hadn’t yet touched behind my ear, leaving my undoubtedly flushed face completely on display.

my consciousness cursed my mouth when it refused to do anything but lay slightly open, every thought in my head that could’ve turned into a response halting halfway through my throat. the overwhelming, bumping noise in my ear returned as his fingers brushed my jaw, only overtaken by that little word he called me repeating in my mind. innocent— something i was beginning to think he was surely far from.

“this won’t take long, you said. go wait in the car. go wait in the car..” the outro to the fourth track of the cd he had spinning chased a bit of the awkward silence away, but couldn’t even begin to touch the tension between our lingering stares at one another. it wasn’t until then, in the stillness between songs, that i truly took in just how much closer he’d gotten. any space left between our bodies had been erased, aside from the few inches that remained between our faces. his breath faintly warmed my cheek when his lips began to open again, the anticipation of what might leave them tying my stomach in a thousand, little knots.

but suddenly, like thunder waking me out of my sleep— exactly five, loud knocks sounded from the opposite side of the bedroom door. i nearly jumped out of my skin, while the boy on my side merely shut his eyes and grimaced at the sound, reluctantly turning his head to face the doorway.

“andy, your mom’s called you about ten times. we have company. come downstairs.” his father’s disembodied voice ordered from the hall, instantly painting his face in complete annoyance.

“yeah, okay. sure.” the back of his skull tapped the bedframe as he raised his volume, enough for his irritated reply to slide over the threshold. the sound of heavy footsteps from outside of the room grew further away until they dissolved entirely, leaving us to sit in the partial silence we were surrounded by before. i heard him release a hushed, but audibly frustrated breath as i carefully unraveled my legs from the tight hold i’d had them in, watching my hands as i set them in my lap.

“i put it all on black, no color you’re all dressed in..” a new collection of guitar riffs, drum patterns and vocals resonated from the right half of the room as i frowned at the dried blood staining the edge of my ring finger. “and a stab in the back left you bleeding on the floor.” i peeked just enough to my side to find him with his eyes back open, solemnly and thoughtfully scanning me.

a hint of a grin sat on the corner of his mouth when i turned my head fully back to him. “sorry.” he quietly apologized, as if he was the one who gave me such a scare. “if it’s any consolation, i’d way rather sit on this hard ass floor with you all night.” he pulled on my heartstrings with his baritone, no rush to his words as they spread a gentle warmth across my face.

a faint smile tugged at the edge of my lips, but the timidity he effortlessly brought out in me forced my eyes back down. only a few seconds passed before the sound of his legs shuffling alerted me again. a cold sensation rushed through my body when i saw him on his feet, leaning his long arm down to offer his hand as he towered over me.

“i don’t bite. i promise.” he smiled softly, grabbing at the air between us when i didn’t move a muscle at the sight of his outstretched palm. “there y’go.” a half grin lifted the pierced side of his mouth as i hesitantly reached up, offering my wrist to his grip. a little, alarmed cheep sounded from my throat when he pulled me to the soles of my shoes like i hardly weighed anything at all. “you’re good. you’re good. i got you.” he chuckled, holding me by the plush below my shoulders when i instinctively clung to his arms, afraid i might trip on my own feet again.

déjà vu fell over me like a shiver as i tipped my neck back just enough to look up at him, somehow still no less bashful than i was the first time we’d found ourselves like this— our bodies hardly a single pace from becoming one, with hands gently shifting, visibly hesitant to let the other go. the soft tips of his thumbs slowly circled my tense biceps until they began to relax, while he gazed down at me with a hypnotized gloss coating his round blues.

“sweet blasphemy, my giving tree. it hasn't rained in years. i bring to you this sacrificial offering of virgin ears..”

as the pop-punk record he’d selected droned on, my thoughts wandered to the memory of the many times i’d picked on damien for his love of the same kind of music; the way i’d tell him how repetitive, overly formulaic, lyrically uninspired and vocally whiny i found the whole genre to be, and beg to listen to anything else. i knew then— somehow even more than before— when those same songs suddenly sounded so seamless and melodic to my ears, that i was absolutely, helplessly, and irrevocably caught in his web. i was sure i could’ve listened to them on repeat all night long without a single complaint if it meant he’d stay as close to me as he was in that moment; holding me up like i was made of glass, watching me through heavy, starry eyes.

“we should, uh,” his hushed, raspy sound threatened my once steady knees as he began to let me go— slowly and reluctantly, like it almost pained him to do so. “probably get down there.”

my arms slipped away from his and hugged my body tight, completely unraveling the knot we’d found ourselves in. he stifled the smirk creeping on his mouth, but not fast enough for me to miss it. subtly reaching up again, his fingertips brushed the slightly exposed skin on my collar, igniting my nerves as he delicately adjusted the silver cross hanging around my neck when the clasp had fallen down to the front.

“wouldn’t wanna, like, get you in trouble, or anything.” he commented, softly, but with his tongue in his cheek. even with my eyes wide and a mind half empty, i knew he could see the naivety written all over my blushing face; that he could surely feel how impossibly fast my heart was beating against the edge of his hand. it was written all over him in the almost belittling look he was giving me as he loosely held the pendant between his thumb and first finger— gazing down at me like i was the most unaware, little creature he’d ever laid his eyes on, and he’d love nothing more than to sink his teeth into my innocence. he wouldn’t just get me in trouble. he was trouble in-fucking-carnate.

if only i had a goddamn clue just how much of it i was in for.