《Midnight Sonata》 Chapter 1 Somber was the night, its impenetrable silence a cavity of daunting fortitude. The moon, a barren cravenness, rested her sullen bosom behind the blanket of clouds, timidly peeking abreast when the wind did bellow. Her ethereal presence was a magnificence in itself to withhold, yet tonight, dimmed was her glow, the hue of her blushing cheeks subdued as the night progressed. Neighboring stars surrounded the celestial, acting as though guards to her being. Unlike their orbital, however, such wardens were brash, burning from within with the urge to illuminate. Haughtily, they twinkled, mirth igniting the shadows of their cores as they brought light to the sky. Yet the vaporial bodies were harsh in their coverage, and soon they, too, had brought the stars to an obscurity. A veil of darkness cast itself over the nightly canvas. Beneath this otherworldly warring of wills, life upon the earth was passive. Occupants of the small town of Franklin had passed into their states of rest hours beforehand, heads sunk into the embrace of pillows and bodies entangled in thick duvets. Rodents and avians of nocturnal nature, notwithstanding their presence, too seemed to hush beneath the skyward oppression, movements lethargic and lacking of normal luster. Only, it appeared, the wind was untame enough to disturb the veil, unbound as its counterparts to a solitary trail. Wild was the tempest, spurred only by greed and, to a degree, resentment. It ruffled the shadows with passing, trees and shrubberies tense at their involvement, whispering concerns that merely died with the breeze. Even in the presence of such arrogance, however, disturbances were brief and slight, holding no power over the tranquility of the night. Reprobate were the shadows that grew from such harrowed conditions. Gauntly tendrils wrapped ominously around the crumbling brick of aged townhouses and city halls, flashing through open windows and surrounding mounted silhouettes with fervor. Only rooftops withheld any opposition to the eclipse, the moon¡¯s heavenly perch daring to promote clarity upon these surfaces through her own light; Clarity in the exaggeration of the depravity found within the night. One such perch proved unique in its approach from its brothers, however. As the others presented, there was little of significance in its appearance, the building below succumbed in a relentless pitch, yet a modest gleam reflected the shifting of life upon its rooftop brick, glinting passionately through poised and alert eyes. The silhouette was positioned against the rusted base of an ancient air filtration system, body tempted forward, head tilted up, as though gravity had yet withdrawn to have the form lifted into the sky. A brief repase shuffled the clouds, granting the moon reprise. Basked in the luminescence of a midnight glow, the silhouette was exposed to be a boy, a teenager pressing the end range of his adolescence. His name was Ace, a Davidson of missing origins, whose residency permeated the abandoned warehouse of the BrickHouse Barbershop. The teenager shuffled, easing his stiff form with a contented sigh. Ace had been in the state of homelessness since the age of 16, but in indignation had evaded the presented provisions of the state of Virginia, choosing instead to indulge himself by his own means. A backdrop character, he had found it easy to escape the investigations of the police force and protective services, and with the anniversary of his 18th year arriving in a month¡¯s time, knew that their intimidating presence would soon be naught. Still, he took the utmost care in maintaining his secrecy, unwilling to risk the life that he had so carefully structured. Withstanding its disheveled appearance, the complex upon which Ace rested was home, and he much preferred to entertain its use till the time was appropriate. His gaze instinctively scoured the surrounding vicinity, assuring himself of his solitude. The hour as it was, Ace¡¯s eyes possessed an unsatisfied droop, and he grimaced as a yawn broke from his chest. Restlessly, the adolescent wiped at his face, the action meant to inspire alertness, yet procuring only sorrow as his hands returned noticeably damp. Ace¡¯s shoulders slumped. Tilting his neck, understanding well that he would be graced with stiff posture come the morning, he gazed up at the sky, letting the tears express themselves noiselessly. A small patch of stars was visible, unrestrained behind vaporious gatherings, and the teen scowled. To Ace, the stars had been a source of comfort for the last two years, unchanging and brightly casting their levity around with bold incaution. They were a symbol of strength in the face of hardships- for what star did not endure the constant badgering of orbital productions- and yet, tonight, they withered. It was an offense, one which Ace was strained not to take personally. Deflating, Ace rolled onto his side, determined not to linger on the depression of his inspirations. Long ago had he learnt not to dwell on such emotions, and instead, inhaling deeply, granted the promotion of his feelings into his mind. Peering through one eye, Ace swept up a notebook that had rested silently at his heel, catching the pencil that slipped from the bindings with practiced ease. A passing gust assisted in his endeavor, fluttering the paper until a random page was selected foremost. The words, impossible to read in the darkness, spoke clearly to Ace¡¯s mind. They were his own, of course- the product of his musings and restless nights- those which currently permeated the tissue of his brain. Lip caught across his lower jaw, a pencil clasped tightly between his fingers, the adolescent scribbled out a new line. Lyrics flowed across the page, the melody conjuring itself through the silence. Passion took the place of aggression; contentment the place of regret. There was little doubt as to why Ace construed the night-time as his favourite moment; Inspiration was an easy target to mark in the solace of nocturne. A hushed groan passed through Ace¡¯s lips as his thoughts turned to the morrow, pencil pausing where it scratched. Sunday it was, the morning would highlight the advent of a new week, a period of educational torture in which Ace would be forced to attend the Franklin Institute of Academic Integrity- the Hawk Nest, as it was so aptly named. Unfortunately, in his efforts to maintain a life of secrecy from the government, Ace was forced to attend school, a measure of diverting attention from himself and disarrousing suspicions should he be noticed around town. The manner of intellect proved no burden upon Ace, and he was assured repeatedly of his A+ status, however, he struggled to connect with those labelled his peers, and often found himself the centre of disparaging conversations and outward frustrations. More than once, he had returned to his warehouse with the markings of bruises upon his face, bloody noses to contest. It did not bother Ace that he lacked the company of his peers. It was easier that way, as there was no one to delve too deeply into his personal matters, and, as per his reasoning, having no one to care about meant his own heart was broken less, saving him unnecessary emotional turmoil. No, it was better to be alone; that didn¡¯t make dealing with the antagonists any less of a frustration, however. Ace eagerly awaited the day in which such characters would bend beneath him, their persons no more than college dropouts and diploma rejects while he fulfilled company demands executively. The satisfaction would certainly delight Ace¡¯s inner devions. Mood beginning to once again disparage itself, Ace shoved himself to his feet, automatically crouching and ducking his head to hide lest anyone walking below glance up. It was unlikely, the night setting in full swing, a stale silence permeating the air, but habits were difficult to break, and possibilities were always a risk. A hum reverbing through his mind, the teen gently clamored down the metallic stairwell that clung to the brick. His footsteps were expertedly placed, avoiding the spots that creaked and wailed, and soon he found himself crawling through the open space of a broken window, quickly covering the opening with a broken wooden panel. Dusting off his palms, Ace granted his eyes a moment to adjust to the new darkness, heavier, if possible, than that which was found outside. His ¡°home¡± was as welcoming as the day Ace had fallen upon it, its interior stagnantly warm and dry, a feat which instantly heightened the extent of weariness that plagued Ace. He staggered, having to grip onto the stability of a nearby countertop in order to regain his balance. Shaking his head, he found that his feet had automatically crept forward, leading his body methodically through the twisting trap of dust-ladened white sheets and furniture. A narrow hollow opened before Ace, and he immediately fell to his knees, crawling into the alcove- simply the underside of an open barber¡¯s bench, its backboard presented in a way in which onlookers from the front of the store would be unable to see anything hidden within or beneath. A cradled supply of blankets lay scrunched across the floor, offering comfort as a barely registerable carpeting and cover. With stiff movements, Ace shrugged the only jacket he possessed over his head, dropping it down into a pillow. Setting his notebook aside, he let the blankets wrap around him, their light-weight comforting with familiarity. Months of sleeping on the tiled floor had eased the discomfort that raised from the hard surface, but it still left his bones aching in the morning hours following. Ace¡¯s eyes drifted, scanning the room for a final time before shutting. He sighed, arms wrapping around his midsection in a comforting embrace, shivering softly. Almost instantaneously, he passed into a deep slumber. ~~~ The night passed by swiftly, and soon enough the sun was breaching the darkness, illuminating the sky in a vibrant display of pastel pinks and purples. Ace shifted, groaning when his bones popped, stiff from their tensed position throughout his period of rest. He had long ago trained his body to rise with the sun, such that he would be mobile and alert in case anything were to happen in the early hours, however, his late excursion had left him significantly more exhausted than normal, and he struggled to shove himself up. Ace yawned widely, wiping at his eyes to remove the sand that had built up. He blinked, gazing around at the warehouse, discerning that all was as it had appeared last night. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Grumbling, the teen crawled out of his space, stuffing the blankets into a corner where they were less-likely to be spotted, and stood, stretching. He tossed his jacket across his shoulders, the atmosphere too warm to wear the article for the moment, and stepped across the room towards a series of cabinets and sinks. It was a matter of grace that, as old as the buildings were, they all shared one pipeline, and as such, access to clean water was easily available for Ace. He made sure never to use a noticeable amount, lest the neighbouring businesses grow suspicious, but as per his morning routine, ducked his head beneath a spout to give the impression of showering. The chilliness also provided a way to awaken himself further. There was little that could be done about his clothes, Ace knew. Thankfully, he did not sweat much, and the temperature had remained steady enough that heat did not strain the fabric; still, the material was tightening almost uncomfortably against his skin. Ace was skinny, more so than he should have been for his age, but the clothes continued to shrink against his growing form, and he lacked the funds to purchase new attire. With a sigh, he realized that he would have to make a nighttime trip to a donation centre soon, a feat that left him uncomfortably nervous and tense, fearful that he would be recognized or caught on camera. He had been putting aside the task, his last venture nearly costing him all that he had worked for. It had been months ago, and even then, Ace had waited until the clothes were but rags across his flesh before attempting to garner new fabrics. He had just crawled out from the dumpster, easily sliding out of the grate, when a voice had called out, stopping him in his tracks. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± A flashlight had shone across Ace¡¯s face, blinding him momentarily, but he had briefly caught the features of the man before him, and with an armful of clothes, had fled, too terrified to speak, even as the voice called for him to stop. That had been during the summer months, and Ace had successfully avoided spotting the man again, always watching over his shoulder, until the advent of his senior year, when he had walked into the math classroom to find a familiar pair of eyes gazing at him concerned. He had fled then too, once the class had ended, fearing that the teacher would call him out, but it seemed that the man had vowed to keep quiet on the issue, and as of yet had not even attempted to speak to Ace. The teen shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he flicked away the excess water that ran down his neck. No good would come from dwelling on the past. Instead, he straightened, opening a nearby cabinet and dragging out an aged backpack, empty apart from a few scattered papers and pencils. Ace shoved his prized notebook into the bag, along with his jacket, and then trailed the stairway until the broken window presented itself. He climbed out, landing silently along the pavement. Ducking his head, Ace crept around the side of the complex, running his hand across the crumbling brick before rapidly advancing upon the sidewalk, striding pointedly towards the direction of his school. In this part of town, the buildings all lacked any security measures, and so he never had to fear cameras catching him sneaking around, however, cops would occasionally patrol the area with eyes scanning for signs of trouble. No cars or passersby presented themselves, the day too early for activity. Only the songbirds that perched in the bushes showed signs of alertness, their swoons lightening the air with beautiful melodies. Ace grinned; It was the perfect time for solitary thought. He strolled, undisturbed, until his feet crossed from concrete pavement to the rocky outcrop of a railroad. Here, he paused, warily eyeing the surroundings. These tracks too were aged, and predominantly abandoned, however, the occasional cargo load would sometimes silently cross from one station to another without warning. Seeing no signs of activity, Ace transversed the tracks, pleased when he safely made it to the pavement once more. The outskirts of the town soon gave way to the bustling commercial region, lacking its normal lunchtime flood, but filled with stallmen setting out their wares for the day. A few of them nodded to Ace in good humor as he passed, but the majority either ignored him or chose instead to glare at his disheveled appearance, fearing delinquency. Ace wasn¡¯t bothered; he understood their concerns, and in an effort to ease them, evaded their stalls with passion. A few of the common salesmen called out to him as he passed, greeting him with recognition alighting their eyes. These Ace politely returned, but then swept quickly away from. Recognition could be dangerous to someone such as himself. It wasn¡¯t long until the ¡®Hawk Nest¡¯ presented itself, the empty parking lot spanning a space far too large for its usual occupancy. Ace automatically tensed as he entered the open gates, prepared for assaultants to come springing towards him. Thankfully, it appeared as though the bullies had yet to make it to the location, and Ace relaxed slightly, making his way towards an aged tree in the front courtyard. To an outsider, the institution would not immediately arouse the viewpoint of a school: The building had initially been built as a community hall for the town, but with the rising population had been transformed to meet the needs of the people. Office spaces had been expanded to perform as classrooms and break-rooms. Larger sections, originally denoted for judgement stations, now rose as study halls and assembly rooms. A long walkway corralled its way to the overarched entranceway, lined by oversized flora that presented the perfect hiding place for individuals seeking to harm, while out back dumpsters and metallic fences provided students and teachers alike escapes to smoke. Ace plopped to the ground with a groan, glancing at the towering bricks before him, back cowed against the rough bark of the tree. To him, the place was nothing more than a hell on earth, a reminder of what he lacked, and what others, unworthy as they seemed, were granted. He wasn¡¯t complaining, and jealousy was an almost nonexistent emotion, but he loathed his peers for their possessions. Ace¡¯s past was one he cared not to linger on, but he occasionally found himself reminiscing of the times when he could return to a heated house with readily available food and bedsheets. He gritted his teeth in frustration, dragging out his notebook with haste. For minutes, the teen stared at the book, the only possession he had carried over from his past life. It was hardly anything remarkable, the faded brown casing worn and torn in numerous places, but to Ace, it represented his future and his past, his hopes and his dreams. It was his way forward, his chance at a better life, and for that reason, he had carried it everywhere, regardless of circumstance. The pages were all crinkled and dog-eared, filled to the brim with lyrics that rose from sudden inspiration, silent melodies rising from the paper. It was Ace¡¯s diary, a composition of songs that held true to his heart, and he feared the idea that someone else might lay a hand on it. Ace shrunk back when a shadow fell over his form unexpectedly, and hastily wiped at his eyes which had grown suspiciously damp. He flinched when he realized just how much time had passed, students already beginning to stride through the gates. Glaring up, he found an unknown male rising above him, his stance cautionary. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Ace tilted his head at the question, not prepared to answer. The other teens eyes were bright and wide, a light caramel hue that was oddly endearing against his tanned skin Ace had to admit, but experience left him wary, doubting the honesty behind those orbs. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± He ducked his head, avoiding the questioning gaze. ¡°Oh.¡± The intelligent answer was returned, but the feet remained, unmoving. Ace grew irritated; the newcomer was planning something, of that he could tell, but in drawing out the potential attack, Ace was becoming more and more agitated. ¡°I-¡± ¡°What do you want?¡± The words came out harsh and sullen. His eyes rose, squinting slightly when he saw the other teen frown. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to bother you.¡± The adolescent leant back, as though to move away, but paused. ¡°I¡¯m Zayn.¡± Ace arched an eyebrow. ¡°So?¡± ¡°I¡¯m new to the area, and you- you looked like you needed someone to talk to, so... I came over.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°Well, then, do you mind if I join you?¡± Ace shrugged, tense, placing his backpack into his lap to cover up the notebook; He didn¡¯t need prying eyes. Taking that as a yes, Zayn twisted until he too was plopped back against the trunk. He sighed, relaxing almost instantly, and Ace felt his heart stutter at the look of serenity that overtook the teen¡¯s face. He looked away, a foreign warmth lighting up his cheeks. ¡°I just moved from Colorado; it¡¯s a lot different here.¡± Ace grunted, but it seemed as though Zayn was intent on carrying a conversation. ¡°Have you always lived here?¡± A stiff nod. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s great then! Do you think you could show me around sometime?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s such a good idea.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Ace didn¡¯t answer, instead choosing to divert the question. ¡°Why¡¯d you move here?¡± A slight pause, but thankfully, Zayn didn¡¯t press. ¡°My dad got a new job.¡± Zayn¡¯ s eyebrows furrowed. ¡°He¡¯s planning on opening his own store in town, and there was an opportunity here, so¡­ we moved.¡± Ace watched silently as the teen grew solemn before him, shoulders slumping dejectedly. It was obvious that his peer was experiencing some loss and homesickness, but Ace had no idea how to react, having never been presented such a situation before. So, in answer, he kept his mouth shut, gaze focused ahead. ¡°Anyways- we moved onto Jefferson, right up the road from here. It¡¯s only a short walk away.¡± ¡°I see.¡± ¡°Yeah; it means I won¡¯t have to get a car anytime soon. Oh! Do you know anywhere that¡¯s hiring right now? I need a job- something to do in this small town, you know?¡± Ace glanced to the side, frowning. There were plenty of places hiring, but they required verification of residency, usually a year at least, of that he knew, and deciding quickly, shook his head in the negative. ¡°No.¡± Zayn¡¯s mouth dropped into an ¡®o¡¯, eyes piercing into Ace¡¯s hunched form. ¡°That¡¯s okay then.¡± Silence reigned then, the two teens sitting in the heated atmosphere together. ¡°I¡¯m bothering you.¡± Ace remained quiet, choosing not to reply. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be.¡± ¡°Do you want me to leave?¡± The sadness in his voice was surprising, and for a moment Ace froze, considering. His mind screamed at him the risks- growing close was dangerous and idiotic- but something in his chest desperately wanted to know Zayn more, and he found that he could not refuse its wants. It seemed loneliness had affected him more than he had realized. Ace shook his head, secretly glad when the other teen relaxed once more. ¡°You know, I never got your name.¡± Those butterscotch orbs gleamed curiously in the sunlight. A light smile, foreign in motion, but honest in intent, forged its way onto Ace¡¯s lips. Glancing up, he replied: ¡°I¡¯m Ace.¡± Chapter 2 Silence was a negatable sentence for Ace, a product of both malicious and benevolent intent. It harrowed from danger- from safety- and although sometimes difficult to deduce from which direction the permeating deafen was approaching, the teen considered himself relatively smart in his inferences. Yet, back uncomfortably tense against the dying bark of a secluded tree, fingers twitching with anticipation and freshly spurred adrenaline, he found himself conflicted. To his right sat a boy, a peer of similar age as he, with a smirk of bliss crossing his lips and hair tousled from the slight gusts that blew. The two had not spoken a word after Ace¡¯s introduction, ending their verbal communications and instead leaving a heavy silence to envelop the vicinity. It was this noiselessness that raised the hackles upon Ace¡¯s neck. He cursed himself, regretting the decision not to alienate himself further, mind conjuring scenarios of ill intent. Certainly an ambush was oncoming- it always came. No one willingly enacted a conversation with him, the school outcast, unless there was an ulterior motive planned. Yet at the same time, no-one had ever gone so far as to request his name, and with such eagerness in their gaze to attend. Ace¡¯s eyes scoured the courtyard. Other students would have by now noticed his company, and if the boy¡¯s story was true, that he was in fact new to the area, would not appreciate Ace¡¯s involvement. There would be punishment for his actions. It did not help that the new student was male. Rumors had already accumulated in the small conservative town, attracting more attention than desired. Ultimately, the current situation was pushing the limits, dangerous beyond measure. ¡°So,¡± Ace flinched, fingernails digging into the skin of his palm, the grounding method instinctual, yet if his peer noticed his actions, he did not comment. ¡°Are you a senior?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Me too. Who¡¯s your first class with?¡± ¡°Johnson.¡± ¡°He¡¯s the English professor, right?¡± Ace nodded, lips tightening as he noticed a girl in the distance glance his way, before twisting and whispering to the group that surrounded her. Zayn followed his gaze, a slight furrow forming between his brow. The question forming on his lips died, however, as Ace¡¯s head shook a negative. With a slight frown, Zayn slouched against the bark, the bag thrown beside him acting as a cushion against the damp trails of the early morning. ¡°Do I even want to know?¡± Ace ducked his head, a scowl twisting his features. ¡°No.¡± The other teen nodded, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. He lightly cussed beneath his breath, letting out an exclamation of exhaustion. Ace chuckled, the sound foreign and dark. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and as a means of easing the unease, he lightly ran a finger over the seam of his notebook, still hidden beneath his bag, reminding himself of its presence and security. He glanced over as the breaths emanating from his side tempered, evening into a slow, methodical pace. An eyebrow raised, surprised. Falling asleep at school had been a mistake he¡¯d only made once, yet here was this newcomer, comfortable enough in his company to pass out with haste. Observing the hue of orange still ladening the sky, Ace reasoned that there was still a half hour before classes began, and so, in good faith, he left his peer undisturbed, choosing to instead observe the other. Zayn was a sight of intense contentment, his features visually appealing to the eyes, of that Ace was undoubting. He assuredly could have chosen any clique to partake in, to converse and appropriate friends- yet here he sat, his presence satisfied and non-demeaning. Ace could not comprehend it, mentally, at least. His heart appeared to have conclusively reached a decision already. The teen had known crushes before, and was well aware of his sexuality, yet never before had he so desired to make something of his emotions. Perhaps it was, with all past circumstances, none of his crushes had ever expressed a sentiment of consolace back. Or perhaps he was acting too quickly, jumping to conclusions with no evidence to support. Zayn, for all intents and purposes, could merely be acting with good-intent, yet soon he too would realize the destruction and pain that followed Ace, and would leave, as had all the others. A deep exhale raced from his lungs. Lowering his eyes, Ace allowed his vision to roam over the other. If his time was limited, then whilst able, he would relish in the scene. Wealth was blatantly not an issue for Zayn, nor his family, if the clothes he was wearing were any indication- the scent of a floral, almost feminine, detergent, had brisked the air as soon as the teen had sat, and the articles were relatively new, unscarred with tears and stains. Skin-tight blue jeans encased his lower half, highlighting the lean musculature beneath. Ace¡¯s hands tightened over the bag in his lap, an unfamiliar warmth pooling in his gut. Black, leather hiking boots ran appraisingly up to the midpoint of Zayn¡¯s calves, securely double-knotted to remain form fitting, whilst a sky-blue, oversized cotton-neck drowned his upper half. A black choker wrapped loosely around the tanned skin of his neck. The other teen¡¯s chest expanded as he sighed, and Ace moved his eyes northward. Brown curls draped over defined cheekbones, red highlights hinted in the peaking rays of the rapidly rising sun. A pink tongue darted out to dampen chapped lips, and a light blush decorated sun-kissed skin. Ace felt his own tongue tingle, eager for a taste. Freckles dotted the space beneath Zayn¡¯s eyelids, ending in a curl beneath the creases of his sharp nose. Already he was aware of the begging golden gaze that remained hidden from his sight. ¡°Like what you see, faggot?¡± Ace immediately stiffened, shooting up such that his back was no longer pressed against the trunk of the tree, twisting to face his approaching antagonist. Instincts called to him to stand, to meet his opponent at an even level, yet a pressing concern in his nether regions kept him seated, and, despite his harrowed nature, he was not selfish-enough to leave another teen defenseless in sleep. ¡°What do you want?¡± This time his tone was not so placid- he knew what was coming. His gaze lingered for a second on Zayn, who had twitched slightly at the noise, yet quickly resettled. ¡°Trying to drag the new kid down with you?¡± Ace didn¡¯t bother to respond- it was a waste of energy anyways. His opposition sneered at his lack, and in a swift flurry, kicked a loose pile of gravel directly into Ace¡¯s face. He flinched, scrubbing frantically at his eyes to return his vision, but an arm wrapped around his neck from behind, dragging his blind form quickly in a direction he could only assume was deeper into the trees. He grunted, letting an elbow throw backwards in hopes of striking his assailant, but Ace was instead greeted with open air, and a gut-wrenching blow to his stomach. He gagged, saliva catching in his throat. His internal monologue was cussing his momentary lapse in judgement, his willful ignorance of the truth of what could only come from his decision. Hopeful had been he, the fool. Darkness rooted at the edges of Ace¡¯s vision as the bar of an arm around his throat tightened considerably. His feet kicked uselessly at the ground. ¡°Let¡­ me go..¡± His growl was hoarse, pitiful, yet no more could he conjure. A dark chuckle was the only reply. Seconds later, Ace¡¯s wish was granted, his limp form tossed into damp earth. Harriedly, he scrambled to his feet, gaze blurry, but unwilling to sit whilst surrounded. And hedged was he, three silhouettes barricading his escape from all directions. Ace let a low growl build within his chest. He inhaled, words building on his lips, prepared to acquisition the trio, however, before he could utter but a syllable, a swift hook clobbed his jaw from the right. He ricocheted back, tailbone crying out as he landed upon his backside. Two pairs of hands tackled him, holding his fighting frame upon the dirt. Ace refused to go down without effort- another gut-bruising blow rendered him stagnant. In the distance, the school-bell chimed. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Fuck-¡± He gagged, spluttering through a glob of blood that had trickled from his nose. No hope built in his chest of rescue- long ago had Ace realized that his survival was limited to his own ability to withstand abuse. He spurned, twisting each way and that in an attempt at escaping, societal alignment the only factor keeping him from retaliating with his own fists. Regardless of what occurred, he was never to throw a hand of his own- it was his only condition. Words of antagonism pounded against his head, skull crushed into the splatter of debris beneath it. A roaring was building up in Ace¡¯s ears, the echo of flesh battering flesh brutal and numbing; his mind instinctively sought retreat. Escape was growing increasingly necessary. ¡°Oi! What do you boys think you¡¯re doing out here?¡± The shout sliced through the thick air, barely audible, however, to Ace¡¯s static-riddled eardrums. He stumbled onto his knees as the hands released, yet collapsed only seconds later, jaw clicking as it slammed into the dirt. A mumbled curse escaped his lips. Briefly, he heard the other teens respond to the approaching professor, their words unintelligible, before their footsteps hastened in the opposite direction, clambering up concrete stairs into the schoolhouse without a backward glance. Ace grunted. ¡°Davidson, that means you too!¡± The teen staggered as he rose, disdainfully eyeing the man before him. A slight hunch accompanied his frame, a dark bruise certainly compounding across the tender flesh of his stomach. The metallic taste of blood smeared across his lips. Indifference was his only companion. Treading forward, a limp to his gait, Ace passed by the impassive elder, wavering by the tree where he had previously occupied a position, before hobbling up the steep entrance stairwell and ducking into the hall. His backpack had disappeared, its body absent from the tall grass, yet it was not what gave him concern. Despite the few pages stuck within the enclosed tangles of the overgrown shrubbery, the body of his notebook was nowhere to be found. A heavy lump settled in Ace¡¯s chest, fists clenching at his sides. How dearly he wished to express the collected gathering of pain that burned within his chest- the sorrow, the ire- yet future course dictated his hand, and prevented such occurrences. Screams of agony terrified the inner workings of his thorax, threatening to escape, and still Ace held them within, his face empty of all emotion. Hell hath no fury like a man miscrossed. ~~~ Students dodged from his path as Ace hobbled through the nearly empty corridors, repressing the urge within that edged him to harm and accuse. His control was, in retrospect, phenomenal, although at this school, there were few who respected such a feat, and many, who, blissfully ignorant of the danger, desired to abuse. Briefly, Ace considered Zayn, the other teen absent upon his return to the tree, and stiffened as a foreign pang pressed itself upon his chest. He hoped, with knowing falsehood, that Zayn had perhaps not witnessed his beating- for such an accusation would mean that, just as had all the others, the teen had left him alone to defend himself. Ace scrubbed at a drop of blood that trickled down his upper lip. Glancing into the reflective glass of a trophy case, pausing momentarily to gaze at the horrific, yet prevalent, reflection that greeted his focus, he shunned into the confines of a rarely-used teachers¡¯ restroom. The sink soon stained red and brown, clumps of leaf litter and mud smearing across the marbled surface, only to seconds later wash down the drain out of sight. Ace peered at himself in the mirror. Already a purplish-hue was circling the skin of his left eye, blackening in the crevices of his socket, and a cut across his left cheek, probably the result of a nail crossing his flesh, was halting in its flow of sanguine fluids. He groaned, knowing he would have to sneak into the nurse¡¯s office later for some bandages, lest he desire an infection to settle. The pain had only just begun to make its presence known, adrenaline settling, and Ace stumbled as his chest burned with each passing breath. Tenderly, movements sluggish and careful, Ace stripped the fabric of his shirt from his torso, throwing the clothing into the sink and letting the tap water wash through its knitting. With a flat palm, he pressed against the lower side of his ribcage, wincing when a flare spurred at the action, and grunted as the pain settled into a minor burn. There was no method of telling as to the condition of his bones without seeking out medical advice, and, knowing that that was in no way a possibility, Ace strung out his shirt over the air vent, letting it dry with the heat, and switching off the water. Bare-backed, the teen let himself collapse against the tiled floor, eyes drifting to a close as the ceiling spun sickeningly above. His ears had yet to cease their ringing, and Ace was decidedly conclusive about the possibility of a concussion. He would need to be extra careful from here on out, lest any others grow bold in his harrowed state. The late bell would have most assuredly rung by now, allocating the punishment of any students caught outside of classrooms without hallpasses, but Ace could not bring himself to give any care. Instead, he relaxed, body unstiffening slowly as it recognized the signs of safety. Teens would be hard pressed to commit such pain whilst in the presence of professors, who, even though they were lame at stepping in, were construed to documents that gave them retribution if they did not act accordingly in the face of bullying. Mind running on high alert, Ace chuckled humorlessly. ¡°What a shit world¡­¡± Half an hour passed in such a way, the teen undisturbed from his position upon the ground. How dearly he would have loved to spend the day there, alone with his own thoughts, free from the cruel glares and harshly spoken words of his peers. For a second, he considered skipping the day, yet such an action would raise too many degrees of suspicion; Ace would not have been surprised if the principal had not already noted his absence- although, for him, missing the first hour was not uncommon, to date. Although, who they would call¡­ Memories crashed down upon Ace, and he groaned as his eyes dampened significantly, rubbing at his face with a single forearm. An orphan, made so only hours after his birth due to the ill-will of an all-promising god, the teen had grown up passed between foster families, each content to provide for him only so much as their stipend deemed necessary. Ace was no stranger to hand-me-downs and cast-away donations. It had been two and a half years to date from when he had first run from the Washingtons, his last and longest-lasting family- if such a title could suit such people. The Washington household had been quite lovely at first, and whilst the government had entertained weekly and monthly visits to assume the wellbeing of Ace, things had progressed without complaint. It was when the visits ceased that a true nature was revealed. Bill Washington, comfortably in his forties, had been a struggling lawyer since the 60s, his sole purpose for employment the idea of substantial wealth and degree- a point for which his wife was highly invested. Yet depression had onset quickly, after the loss of their first child through miscarriage, and the failures of two intermediate cases which would have prompted reputable characteristics. The romantic, gold-digging duo soon found themselves without a sourceable income. In desperate hopes, disparaging over the idea of losing their upper-classed lodgings, the two had decided to foster, keeping up the act of doting caregivers until absolutely necessary. Food and clothes had been provided to Ace in much larger quantities than ever previously noted, and the agency responsible for his care, deciding that this was a sign of good intent, had left him to defend for himself rather quickly. How wrong they had been in their assumptions. Shaking his head, Ace sat up. He no-longer lived with the Washington family, yet their address and phone numbers were stored securely in the school¡¯s administrative facility, offered as make-shift substitutes to satisfy records. As it seemed, both parties were content to keep the notion that Ace no longer lived upon their premises quiet. Throwing his shirt, still slightly damp, yet comfortably heated now, over his head, Ace stood, running a hand through the dripping locks of his hair. A final check in the mirror assured him that his features, while not quite clean, were presentable enough for the school not to raise complaint. He winced as he neared the door, deciding that now was as good a time as any to join his peers in their learning. Unhinging the bolt, Ace stepped out of the restroom, stiffening as a towering silhouette awaited his exit.. Before him, head hunched, stood Zayn, an appearance of equal shock gracing his features as he took in the teen. At his full height, standing heel to heel, it was obvious that Zayn maintained a sturdy foot above Ace, and with the ways in which his eyes narrowed, the figure was imposing himself impressively. Certain that, at this point, Zayn would have been made aware of his reputation and sexual alienator, Ace twisted upon his heel, swiftly limping in the direction of his class. He had no desire to listen to more abuse. The shouts that followed Ace¡¯s exit were ignored, their volume decreasing the further away he moved. It was a surprise then when, without notice, a hand spun his body around, desperate and pleading eyes begging him not to run. ¡°Ace, wait.¡± The teen gaited back, confused and cautious, and, without a word of farewell, fled. He only subconsciously realized, as he slowed to a halt in front of his homeroom door, the presence of a familiar looking backpack and notebook, clutched with the slender fingers of Zayn, that had been staring ominously up at him. Chapter 3 The day passed in much of a blur, as often was the case for Ace within these walls. However, the distinct heaviness- directly oxymoronic to the truth- weighed across his lap with the notion that his most precious artifact was lost, kept captive within the hands of a teen who now most likely harbored only disgust towards him. He feared, posture tense and jittery, that his notebook would be opened, its contents read by prying eyes and passed around the academy, detailing in personal regards his deepest thoughts and desires. Ace winced as a crumpled up ball of paper knocked against his head, distracting his line of thought. A glance up found the frantically twisting form of one of the popular girls, her shoulders shaking, though the room remained silent. Behind his desk, the teacher conscientiously kept his eyes southward, pen scratching red marks against the tests that he was intent on grading. Ace sighed, unfurling the note. A crudely drawn depiction of him stared right back up from the furled edges, the rope around his neck stiff with the weight of his body as he hung. Ace¡¯s face was carefully composed as he observed the sketch, a numbness settling over his chest as he stared; this wasn¡¯t the first drawing of this degree he had received, and despite knowing that his emotions should be contorted, Ace felt nothing. He chuckled humorlessly, folding the edges into a compact square and stuffing the paper into his pocket. A disinterested grimace spreading across his face, Ace peered up at the clock upon the wall, internally groaning at the hours that remained. A sharp knocking resonated off the old oak of the classroom door then, disturbing the stale peace that had settled over the population within. Whispers of discontent were quickly subdued by the professor as he stood, strolling to open the barrier, his oversized statue barely conceding the frame. Ace stood as his name was announced, his focus concentrated upon the floor as he exited the room, following orders to appear before the mandated principal. A series of guffaws followed his departure, and, with arrogant clarity, their words trailed. Ace¡¯s thoughts had grown incoherent, philosophy tainting his posture as the folly of fate wrapped its clutches twice round; before him, leading the direction, marched none other than his morning aggregator, the slight lift to his lips an indicator of his own memory. Unconsciously, Ace purchased his teeth upon his lower lip, gnawing at the tender flesh, still sore and aflame. ¡°Washington.¡± The astute man stepped from his office¡¯s confines, nodding to his student assistant before eyeing the teen. Ace let his feet clammer to a halt, sizing up the individual before him, a kindle of mischief alight within his gaze. Here posed the corporate menace that solidified all his scholarly sufferings- it was only with fair duty that he entertained thoughts of misbehavior whilst within such a man¡¯s presence. A sharp jolt- his peer shoving off to gather more disciples- returned the teen back to his predicament. No fathom of thought could lead to a conclusive reason as for his calling, and ultimately, Ace was befuddled. ¡°You requested my presence, Sir.¡± Confused, yet not forgotten of his reputation. The principal, Callahoy, made motion, indicating for Ace to pursue, and waddled back into his station. Following, Ace paused as he caught the frame of another student perched upon one of the seats facing the principal¡¯s desk, the rose hue a good indicator of just who sat within that chair. His suspicions were confirmed as Zayn twisted, watching his approach with a widening grin across his face. Ace¡¯s stomach fluttered, a befuddled grimace marring his lips as negative thoughts spiraled within his mind. He knew not what the principal had called him for, however, speculation was a harrowed bitch- if not cruel in her approach. ¡°Take a seat, Mr. Washington. We have an important matter to discuss.¡± Ace silently dropped into the open chair, purposely ignoring the eyes which desperately attempted to garner his attention. ¡°I am aware that you and Mister Matthews have met before, is this correct?¡± ¡°We met this morning before class.¡± Zayn was quick to interject on Ace¡¯s behalf, but Callahoy ignored the reproach, waiting until Ace provided confirmation of his own before continuing. ¡°Good. As I am sure you have been made aware, Matthews here is one of the newest students to join our student body.¡± A nod of confirmation. ¡°As with all new students, we request that another be set up to act as an aid, a welcome face in the crowd- if you will. It just so happens that this young gentleman persisted upon a special request.¡± Ace¡¯s eyes narrowed, gaze shifting to view the stiffened form of Zayn, he who now sat with a slight blush to his cheeks, chin downcast in embarrassment. Was this a joke? A cruel play upon the epitomes of fate and desire? Ace carefully shuffled his features into an impassive compass; He would grant no reason for any harassment from his peer. If this was nothing more than an attempt at getting closer to him, for purposes of mockery and humiliation, then he would cease to permit. Yet with all things considered, there was a pressing concern that gave slight hope to Ace¡¯s beating heart. Zayn, unless he was a reputable actor, possible with the lameness by which Ace understood his being, had not given any indication of resentment or ill intent towards Ace. It was a consolidating factor, one which gave heed to the first sparks of fear and mistrust. ¡°-Mister Matthews has specifically identified you as his desired classmate.¡± Ace strung from his musings as the principal¡¯s words met his ears, confirming what assumptions had already been concluded. ¡°Do you have any objections to this?¡± Tilting his head, the teen hesitated. Should he accept the proposition, it would garnet the possibility of an elongated friendship, and- if Ace was honest with himself- the dream of something much more- that was if Zayn honestly harbored no negative emotions towards himself. But with such acceptance, dangers persisted, much more fervent than before. People were quick to grow suspicious around Ace the longer they stayed, and naturally, in order to defend his lifestyle, they were shoved away. This case would be no different, of that he had selfishly assessed. The peer that sat by his side, however, held hostage of a belonging that Ace desperately desired to return to his possession. This could be his only chance at establishing enough of a relationship in order to regain his artifact, suspiciously absent, and despite how his mind presented the dangers of allowing another person closer still, Ace knew that turmoil could result if he pleaded a negative to the case. ¡°No.¡± Callahoy squinted huntingly. ¡°No, I have no objections.¡± ¡°Wonderful. I expect you two to make well of each other then. That was all that was needed- you both are dismissed.¡± The teens rose together, their movements synchronic. Zayn made motion as though to begin a conversation, but Ace twisted on his heel, shoving open the glass frame and exiting the office in haste. He was halfway down the hall before a heavier set of shoes joined his own. ¡°Hey!... Jesus you walk fast,¡± Zayn huffed exaggeratedly as he leveled with Ace, his arm hooking around the back of his head, scratching nervously at his scalp as he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this morning- I guess I just passed out, ya know?¡± ¡°Hn.¡± Ace pondered- was it possible that the other teen had not bore witness to his assault? Or was he simply trying to avoid the subject? There were too many unanswered questions- questions upon which answer was necessary for settlement. ¡°Where¡¯d you go by the way?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Well, you weren¡¯t there when the bell rang, and you left your stuff behind-¡± ¡°You grabbed my stuff.¡± It was not a question. ¡°Um, yeah. It¡¯s in my locker. Figured you didn¡¯t want anyone else touching it.¡± Ace glanced down, the slight warmth to his chest burning its way from inside. The act may have been small, its kindness irrelevant to many, but to him, it showed a sense of solidarity and accomplice in his peer. ¡°I got- called away.¡± It was mundane, but for the moment, it seemed such an excuse would appease Zayn. Ace winced as his ribs shifted uncomfortably, ducking his head to hide his features. ¡°My locker is.. This way!¡± Ace had to smirk at the enthusiasm by which Zayn performed, reminding him of childhood innocence he had often observed. Treading in the offered direction, an obtuse silence settled over the duo. Ace shuffled, peeking through his eyelashes at the other teen. Zayn had adopted an attitude of ease, his hands clasped behind his head and strut confident and emboldened. A brazen question built in Ace¡¯s mind, curiosity demanding answer; before he could control himself, the words slipped.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Zayn¡¯s head tilted, obvious confusion interrupting his concentration. He gazed at Ace expectantly. ¡°Why did you choose me?¡± ¡°Choose you?¡± ¡°As your guide. Why me?¡± ¡°Well, we didn¡¯t get to talk much before, and you seemed nice enough¡­¡± Ace watched as the teen ducked his head. ¡°And- I wanted to get to know you more, ya know?¡± ¡°Hn.¡± How to respond to such a remark, Ace had no clue. ¡°But look, I-¡± ¡°You should have picked someone else.¡± Zayn stopped, eyes widening as Ace continued to walk. Hurriedly, he jogged to catch up, arm stretched out to catch onto Ace¡¯s shoulder, a movement so natural and familiar that he spared no second though, only to instead pull back a moment later when Ace flinched violently. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry!¡± His pleas fell on drumming ears, the crashing waves of memories suddenly beguiling Ace¡¯s mind at the action too much to handle. Suddenly, a hand was twisting the back of his shirt, tossing his limp form into the brick. The warmth of the flesh served as a grounder, reminding Ace of his propriety and environs, and with a gasp, he inhaled sharply, eyes flashing between the corridor and Zayn¡¯s frantic face. ¡°That¡¯s it man, breathe. Come on.¡± Ace slumped, his head falling into his arms as his rear collapsed onto the ground. ¡°I¡¯m okay. Back off.¡± Shakily, Ace shoved the hands around his shoulders off, body slowly loosening its tension. So long had it been since such a severe reaction had taken place; Ace was ashamed- he had thought that he was past such moments. He expected Zayn to leave, his crumpled body abandoned to regain itself solitarily, but as his breathing evened, he realized heatedly that the other teen was crouched beside him, shoulders close enough to touch with just the slightest movement. ¡°I thought I told you to back off.¡± Zayn merely chuckled. Glaring up, Ace felt himself freeze, body stunned as he gazed into Zayn¡¯s eyes, an emotion of concern so strong that it was shocking. In that second, however, fate laughing in her throne, the bell rang, indicating the letting of classes. Ace stiffened, desperately struggling to his feet, knees clicking, before giving out. The floor swam rapidly closer, but before he could smack into the tile, two arms lifted him into a chest. The teen groaned, his stomach protesting the sudden change in momentum, bruises straining. ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± He flinched, unused to such a vulnerable position. Zayn tightened his arms, strolling hurriedly down the hallway, ducking into a janitor¡¯s closet just as students began trailing out of classrooms. He carefully lowered Ace to the ground, ensuring he was steadied before twisting and steading a broom against the handle, effectively ensuring no one would interrupt their musings. ¡°You didn¡¯t want anyone to see us together, right?¡± Ace kept his lips sealed, head dipping in embarrassed shame. He could feel Zayn¡¯s eyes focus on him, but refused to glance up. A sigh resounded around the enclosed space. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I understand.¡± The teen took a spot on the floor, facing his newfound familiar. ¡°You can ask me.¡± ¡°Ask you¡­¡± The words trailed into silence. Ace chewed his lower lip, feeling unusually nervous- cautious. ¡°You ran from me this morning. It¡¯s because you didn¡¯t want anyone to know you were talking to me.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°No?¡± Zayn¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Then why-¡± ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± Ace¡¯s tongue stumbled, struggling to get the words the way he wished them phrased. ¡°Doing what?¡± ¡°This,¡± His arms swept around, before wrapping around his chest once more. ¡°Why are you even here?¡± ¡°I told you this morning¡­ you seemed like you needed a friend.¡± ¡°...friend?¡± Zayn watched him, their eyes holding each others for a minute, before, with gentle admission, he stretched an arm forward. Ace winced as Zayn¡¯s finger ran down the tender flesh of his cheek. ¡°We should really get this bandaged.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± A humorless huff was his only response. Zayn rose to his feet, peeking at the shelves momentarily before returning to his previous position, a box of A-grade bandages clasped between his fingers. ¡°I don¡¯t have any antibacterial spread, but this should work for now. Stay still.¡± He scooted slightly closer, his warmth permeating the thin rags that clothed Ace. The teen inhaled sharply, remaining steady as Zayn worked, his movements oddly practiced. ¡°You¡¯ve done this before.¡± ¡°Um¡­ yeah.¡± The silence that settled then was oppressive, and uncomfortable, the two boys shuffled. Unexpectedly, Zayn spoke up. ¡°My father, he used to get really drunk. Sometimes he would throw things¡­¡± ¡°Hn...¡± ¡°He¡¯s better now; he got help a long time ago, but when I was younger¡­ well, you understand, I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°Why do you say that?¡± ¡°In the hallway, you thought I was going to hurt you.¡± Ace kept quiet. ¡°I would never hurt you.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Ace glanced up at the mumbled admittance. Zayn smirked at his expression. ¡°But I damn sure can try. And besides, you¡¯re my guide now- you¡¯re stuck with me. What you said earlier though¡­ why wouldn¡¯t I have chosen you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not someone you should be around¡­¡± His head cowed, uncertainty radiating from his frame. Ace¡¯s arm tightened around his chest as Zayn pulled back, his bandagings finished with a pop. ¡°Because you¡¯re gay?¡± The teen¡¯s spine went stiff. So Zayn was aware, yet- still he sat with him, keeping him company and attending to his wounds- why? ¡°How did you know?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a small town.¡± ¡°Hn.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t hate you for it, you know.¡± ¡°You should¡­ Everyone should.¡± ¡°I¡¯d be a hypocrite to do so.¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Zayn chuckled, scratching at the back of his head once more. ¡°You haven¡¯t guessed? I guess not¡­ you¡¯re not the only one who likes boys now.¡± ¡°You-¡± Ace instantly shot forward, clamping his hands instinctively over Zayn¡¯s mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t say things like that! Do you know what would happen if people found out?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not ashamed of my sexuality. And¡­ neither should you.¡± A warmth spread through Ace¡¯s chest; the news that he had found an accomplice in his struggle was endearing, the emotions that he felt for his crush building steadily higher, but fear was a stronger assailant, and he dreaded that someone would lay a hand on Zayn. This understanding had to be hidden- had to be kept secret. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. It¡¯s dangerous here.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Zayn captured his hand within his own, the movement so intimate that Ace gulped. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me.¡± He hummed. ¡°So that¡¯s the reason you ran earlier. You thought I wouldn¡¯t want to be around you anymore¡­¡± A carefree laugh broke from Zayn¡¯s chest, his chortles leading to gasping snickers, and for a moment, Ace had to marvel at how beautiful he appeared. Heat rose to his cheeks with passion. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t hide your blush. It makes you¡­ look good.¡± Zayn¡¯s smile was beaming, and Ace¡¯s hue deepened considerably. ¡°Hn¡­¡± Ace stared at the door, searching his mind for something to say. Peering at the door, he was content to realize that the footsteps of students had ceased in volume, suggesting that classes had resumed. ¡°We should leave.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m sure you want your stuff back, don¡¯t you?¡± He nodded, solemn. ¡°I think you need a new journal by the way. It fell apart when I picked it up¡­ I think I got all of the pages though.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t look at it, did you?¡± ¡°No,¡± Zayn frowned at the desperation in Ace¡¯s tone. ¡°It seemed really important to you.¡± Ace said nothing, ignoring the searching eyes. Steadily, the two rose without words exchanged, having to maneuver carefully in the enclosed space, their limbs knocking together. The broom was swiftly removed, the door opened silently, heads peeking to ensure that the hallways were empty before exiting. Lockers lined the walls in this part of the building, a hurried addition after purpose was initiated, their borders flicking of cheap paint and scrapyard metal. It was innately obvious that the school had spared little in terms of funding for such important extensions, but these matters seemed irrelevant as Zayn and Ace strolled by. The latter himself held his hands in tension by his side, eyeing his counterpart¡¯s own limbs. Zayn¡¯s hands were smooth, lacking the callouses earned from hard labour- how would they feel to hold? He focused back ahead, abashed, as the teen smiled at him suddenly. ¡°Here.¡± Zayn tugged at the lock on a lower shelf, crouching slightly to spin the dial, before opening the door with a clang. There sat Ace¡¯s bag, the notebook levelled on top, and he made haste to lift it free, clenching it to his chest with a sigh. Dragging his bag as well, Ace thanked Zayn with a heartfelt nod. ¡°I should get back to class; my parents will kill me if they find out I¡¯m skipping.¡± Zayn frowned, exhaling, the light in his eyes dimming slightly. Tenderly, he reached out a hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Ace¡¯s ear. ¡°We should go out sometime, you know.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Well- you know- if you don¡¯t want to hang out, that¡¯s alright, I just thought-¡± Zayn¡¯s form deflated, a nervous light adopted in his gaze. For a second, Ace saw vulnerability in another, a feature he recognized without hesitation, and it stunned him. No other person had ever interacted in such a way around he himself, and even with their earlier admissions, such openness was unfamiliar to Ace. He stuttered, reddening. ¡°No- I mean, yes¡­ I¡¯d like that.¡± ¡°Meet me by the tree afterschool, okay?¡± The teen nodded in answer, heart fluttering. Twisting, Zayn began waltzing away, a gleeful hip to his step and a backwards wave his passing. Ace stared at his retreating back, confused. What had he just agreed to?