#i dont know what worms do in late fall but I doubt they enjoyed being exposed to the cold like that. squishy friends.

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

You all would still love me if I was a worm, right

[atlabeth]

nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

~

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

[thearcanamoshpit]

 [Julian x GN Reader] Highschool!AU

(Hi hello welcome this is my first fic in like 5 years, but i love this fandom so much i want to contribute with something, so I hope you guys enjoy! Excuse any weird english, its not my first lenguage)

It was a cold day of fall.

And one of the few times I ever was sent to detention.

The other ones were over silly things really. Getting a little talkative with my friends in the middle of a class, getting caught killing time in the hallways. It happened quite rarely, really. I'm generally quiet, try to be kind with everybody, respectfull and mind my own business. But this time, things got a little out of hand.

As if having a bad night of sleep, waking up late, and leaving without breakfast wasn't enough, one of the guys that messes with me now and then decided to examine the book I had in hands a little to closely, and telling everyone in the hallway what it was about, while making a few coments about me.

By "examine a little to closely", I mean snapping it out of my hands and waving around my very precious, handmade and very difficult to find witchcraft book.

By "making a few coments about me", I mean calling me Satan's little whore, in front of a little crown of at least 40 people.

It took 3 minutes before I was on top of him, screaming, punching and scratching his face with every fiber of my being, people circling us while the hallway tuned into a confused mass of voices and yells. He did fight back a little, giving me a bruised chin and a scrach on my cheek, but I left him a bloody mess. After being able to pull me off him, the principal took me straight to his room. It was a long conversation on how he should suspend me and all, but he was very found of me. Since the boy was the one who started it, and I did got hurt too, I left his room with only a few hours of volunteer work in the school´s garden and an afternoon spend in detention.

After the last period, I started making my way into detention, getting a few side glances from everybody in the hallways. I quickly made my way into the room, rushing oppen the door, every eye in the room turning to meet me, a few coments popping here and there.  I didn't got surprised for seeing the detention's regular costumers there: Vulgora, who is aways getting in a fight with someone. Volta, who is aways eating in the most non discreet way possible, in the middle of a class. Vlastomil, the weird worm kid that keeps sneaking his “pet worm” into school. Valdemar, who is aways acting suspicious and taking stuff from the school's lab. Valerious, who got caught at least 3 times carrying wine into his water bottle, and a few other familiar faces.

I was looking around, finding a place to sit as far of everybody that I could, to at least have some peace during the next very monotonous hours.

Until I spotted his face.

I knew him. We did lab and biology classes together, although we never shared a word.

Julian Devorak.

His grey eyes stormy eyes staring right at me.

The comedian of the class, aways messing around and craking jokes. He was quite a charmer, and I frequently got myself staring at him way to much. But its not like I could ever stand a chance. There was always someone falling for him, and I, well, was me. Everybody liked him. Well, not the people he got into fights with, wich did happened pretty frequently, although I never seen him here before. Its not like I got send to detention that much anyway.

But there I was, standing in the front of the class, frozen, with his eyes not leting go of mine. Why are you staring at me? I felt my face heating up.

"Have you found a place to sit yet, or do you need help?" The sudden voice of the supervisor made me jump a little, causing a few laughs in the class and my cheeks to warm up even more.

I hurried myself to sit in the first seat I saw, next to the window, and next to the red haired man.

I didnt dare to make eye contact with him, still too embarassed of what had just happened. A few seconds passed until he leans a little closer, whispering

"Hi. Its [name] right?"

"...y-yes, it is" I said quietly, still a little tense, while putting my things on the table.

"I saw what you did to him, that bastard. Messing around with you like that. You left him pretty ugly, didn't knew you could put up a fight!" He said, chuckling a bit "Its Julian, by the way"

"Oh, I know" I said, a smile creeping on my face "But I'm not a fighter, really, I just don't like people calling me names in front of a crowd, while taking my stuff, on a already stressing day. Although... I guess you could say I like a little danger here and there" I said chucking softly on the last part, placing a few hairs behind my ear while turning to face him.

Being this close to him, he was even more handsome, if that was even possible. That perfect angled jaw line, those beautifull red locks framing his face, the deep grey eyes. I got myself staring.

And I got him staring too, at my now exposed scratch on my cheek.

“Did he hurt you...?” he said, frowning, while leaning closer to me, his long fingers touching my wound softly, eyes locked in my cheek.

I twitched a little, surprised with the sudden touch. His fingers were cold, contrasting with the -now even hotter- warm of my cheeks. 

“It was nothing, really...” He noticed me stiffing, and retreated his hand, his eyes looking straight into my now. I turned away, a smile popping on my face “Y-you should see the other guy”

“Oh, I saw him” he chuckled softly, the tension around us easing “Remember me to never getting into a fight with you” he arched his browns, a wide grin on his lips.

“Said the school’s Rocky Balboa!” I laugh, finally placing my witchcraft book on the table.

“Who? Me? My, I’m flattered-” he cutted himsolf short, eyes fixating on the book cover, a serious look on his face.

When I noticed that, I lean over the book, trying to cover it with my body, turning my eyes away from him and feeling my face starting to burn again. Shit. I should have kept it in my bag. Why did I took it out? The very first time the guy ever talks to me and he is already thinking I am a weird paggan-witch enthusiast who talks to plants and cast spells at fullmoon. I kinda am though...

When my body got in the way of his focus, he snapped, a deep blush creeping over his face as he started to apologise.

“S-sorry! I didn’t meant to stare! Its not that I think you are weird or something...” he muttered, voice fading away at the end. It took him a few moments before he spoke again “I just find it...intriguing”

“Intriguing?” I eyed him, my eyebrowns frowning slightly. I wan’t used to people describing witchcraft as intriguing often.

“Yes, intriguing. I don’t quite understand it, black magic stuff. Like do you just mix a bunch of stuff in a caldom while chanting old mystic spells?” there was no real venom behind his voice, although he put up a sacarstic tone to it. It made me laugh, shufling my body so I would face him.

“Well, kinda. But that is not black magic though. Black magic is way more serious and dangerous than that. What I focus on, and what this book is mostly about too, is herbology, stones and charms.

“And do they work? Like, the spells?” he said the last word with a little disbelief.

“Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t, like real medicine. You mix some stuff to try to get a certain outcome, and if they don’t work then you try again. But the spell casting thing is more of a pray though, to ask spirits and other forces around you an little extra help.” I took the book in my hands, hesitating in silence before closing a bit of the distance between us “...wanna take a look?”

After a few seconds, his fingers brushed slightly the cover of the book, before the supervisor closed the door of the room after the last person finally arived. The detention was about to start.

"Okay now you all. Today we got a pretty full room hun? Well, for your punishment, each of you shall right a 500 word essay of why are you here, and apologising for it. You cannot leave the room until is 5pm and you have gave me your essay. Using your cellphones is not aloud, nor getting friendly with your classmates. So quit messing around and get to work"

I was already regreting punching that guy in the face, leating out a long sigh. I retreated my book, grabbed my essay notebook and started to write my name on a page when I felt a soft tug in my sleeve.

"Hey. I really didn't want to put up with this” He said, whispering, a mischevious grin on his face. “...and you seem to do like a little danger. Say, want to bail this with me?" 

"And may I ask how do you plan on doing that, Mr.Devorak?" I arched an eyebrown, smiling, eyes on the supervisor sitting at his desk.

"My, you seem to doubt my abilities" he said, bringing a hand to his heart, looking dramatically ofended "Have you not realized that we are here with the easiest person to draw attention to: Vulgora" I looked at Vulgura across the room, and I saw them in the farest table -already- furiously marking it with their sharp nails. What the hell, does he plan to mess with them?

He stod up, took a pencil from my pouch -blinking his eye- and calmly walked into the front ot the room, with the supervisor eyeing him suspeciouly

"I'm just using the sharpener" he said, and began to slowly sharp the pencil in the big sharpener on the supervisor table. He glanced at me, a curious smile paited on my face, and his mouth moved without making a sound

“Now”

He turned to Vulgora, a surprised expression on his face.

"Oh my God Vulgora, is that a pocket knife?! You know those aren't aloud in here!" The whole class gasped, every head turning to Vulgora.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU LUNATIC?!" They yelled, banging they're fists on the table, making Volta squeak.

The supervisor stood up, his voice angry but not surprised.

"What the hell Vulgora? Give me that now" he started to make his way into their seat, the whole class starting to grew into a confused mass of whispers.

"I DONT HAVE NOTHING! YOU STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

"They hid it in their bag!" Julian yelled over the mass of voices, slowly making his way back into his seat. I got the message, and started to quietly but quickly put my stuff back into my backpack.

"Vulgora show me your bag" the supervisor was standing right beside Vulgora's desk, their back turned at me and Julian.

"OVER MY FUCKING DEAD BODY" They yelled, grabing his bag close to their body, and the class erupted in a riotous cacophany, people banging their hands on the table and yelling.

"Come on come on come on!" Julian threw his bag over his shoulder and, grabbing my arm, and we sprinted to the hallway, passing completely unoticed by the supervisor. We kept running until we were outside of the school gates, the voices getting lower and lower as we got away from the class. When we got into the streets, we were breathing heavly and giggling, the cold air around us contrasting with the heat in our faces.

And he was still holding my arm.

When he notice it, he quickly let it go "S-sorry" he whispered, a little blush creeping over.

"No, its okay, really" I shift my feet, only now realising the height difference we had- I was over a feet smalled than him, making my blush over the run intensify "Thanks for getting us out of there...I reallt didn’t wanna do that essay” I paused a little “I owe you one..."

We just stood there quiet for a few moments, just staring at eachother, the clouds of our breaths surrouding us, not knowing quite what to say next.

"Well..." he started it, looking at his phone "Its still 3:40pm, and there is this nice café nearby..." he played a little with his hair, making the curls dangle like fire ambers in the sunlight "...say, do you want to go with me? Like its... totally fine if you would rather go home i just... er hm...really like the way you drawn plants in botanic's class, and it would be really cool if you could teach me...for school stuff you know... so we can be you know...even.. and stuff"

I just stood there, my cheaks definitely very red at this point. Was he...asking me out? Me? Out? He was shifting his weight alot, and not quite meeting my eyes. He aways sounded so confided with others, why was he acting shy with me?

And more.

He observed me. And my drawings. And he liked them. He liked my shitty botanical drawings. My head was spinning, not processing what was happening around me, making me take a few seconds before verbalizing anything.

"Why er- of course! Thats sound fun, really, i'd love!" I said, a little more enthusiastic that I should, steping a few feet closer to him. “Then you can teach me how to knock down a guy whithout letting him smack you”

He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat for a second.

“My, you came to the right guy! See, the thing is you have to protect your face the whole time...”

We started making our way into the café, him talking lively about how to get the perfect punch during the whole time. And I just stood there, gigling like an idiot, not being able to believe how lucky I got.