Hey ya'll, surprise surprise; I'm alive! I was on a hiatus from Wattpad for school, since end of year exams are coming up. But my school cancelled them (because of COVID) only to give us tests instead. Like, excuse me??? Anyway, I am aware that I've gotten some new suggestions from my Author's Note asking for them earlier, and I do plan to get to writing some of them soon, but I was feeling like writing something, and though I do plan on editing this book a bit, I decided to not, and stayed up till midnight on a Sunday to get this chapter done after a hit of inspiration. Sorry 'bout the rant, kudos if you read it all, and let's get on with this chapter!

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In the entire world, Rowan understood only one thing: math. It worked by logic, reasoning, and rules. There was always a pattern to solving math - there was the certainty that when Rowan knew nothing of how everything else in life worked, they would know math, and by knowing math, they could figure out things that others couldn't. It was both comforting, and unhelpful.

Especially so when even careful calculations weren't enough to prepare Rowan for the fact that the bank was going to be robbed today - the same day when their class was visiting it for an educational tour.

The marble floor was cold against Rowan's cheek, and they could hear their own heartbeat hammering against their chest, the sound ringing in their ears and blocking out the shouts of the robbers. they looked up, red hair plastered against their forehead, strands hiding their eyes partially from the armed criminals.

Even without counting, Rowan knew that there had to be about five of them; the thought sickened them. Here they were, lying flat against the ground with their math class, constantly monitored by robbers armed with guns and perhaps even knives. It would've been a miracle if they lived - maybe a robber would shoot them for looking up, or maybe they would die from their own fear.

"Rowan."

Their head snapped to the right, to where Frank had uttered their name. What the hell? Is Frank trying to get killed?

Frank was breathing heavily, clearly stricken with fear, though still determined. Rowan only wished they could have that same amount of determination. Frank took a peek towards the guy circling their area, making sure that it was safe to talk before turning back to Rowan. "I need your help."

Rowan wasn't entirely sure that they had heard him right. Help? They glanced at the guarding criminal - he looked like a vulture circling his prey. "What are you talking about, Frank?" hissed Rowan. "We need to stay down and stay quiet."

A frown flitted across Frank's features - it looked unusual compared to the guy's usual smile, though not unnatural. Somewhere in the back of their head, Rowan acknowledged that if he had met Frank again for the first time and saw him with a frown instead of a smile, he wouldn't find it exactly weird. The guy somehow was able to look both stern like a grandfather, and innocent like a toddler.

"I need you to open my backpack for me. Now." whispered Frank, his words slow and calm as if he were talking to an unresponsive child. Though with Rowan at their current state, they perhaps were an unresponsive child. A very scared, and unresponsive child.

Are you crazy? Rowan didn't need to say anything to convey that message - his face said it all for him. But that didn't manage to shut down Frank's crazy thinking at all, it seemed to only egg him on. "I can't explain, but I have a weapon inside." said Frank, "and I really need you to open my bag so I can get it." he insisted.

Rowan squeezed their eyes shut, taking a few quick breaths before facing Frank again. They considered telling Frank to back off - that now was not the time to play hero, but judging by the guy's expression, Rowan found it highly unlikely that Frank was going to back down. If Rowan didn't help, he was probably going to just take his 'weapon' out without any hesitation - which would either get him caught, and killed in five, or ten seconds.

Rowan took a second to take a big breath, before scooting over to Frank's side, inching their arm towards the backpack resting over Frank's left arm. Luckily for them, the robber on guard was too busy watching his accomplices crack open the safe to keep an eye on Rowan and Frank, who were both behind him.

With a tug, down came the zip.

With a tug, out came a sword.

A soft swear bubbled out of Rowan, and they slapped a hand over their mouth as Frank jumped to his feet with the weapon in hand. None of the criminals had heard Rowan over the commotion of robbers talking and moving goods, and none of them had noticed when Frank swung the hilt of his sword onto the back of a guard's head, knocking the guy out cold.

Rowan, curse their brain, couldn't help but play Maneater by Nelly Furtado in their head as they watched Frank. Apparently, being non-binary and stuck in a bank robbery wasn't enough - Rowan needed to play soundtracks in their head to their friend's potential death too.

Frank snuck up to another robber standing by another group of civilians, grabbing hold of the guy's gun and swinging the barrel of it upwards toward the ceiling. The guy reacted quickly, to his credit, and swung his arm back to try and knock Frank off. He failed. Rowan spotted a smile on Frank's face as he side-stepped, swinging the flat of his blade against the guy and knocking him out. This time the other robbers caught on, pausing their money-stealing to ambush Frank.

Not that Rowan had no trust in their friend, but they couldn't understand how Frank would've been able to fend off three robbers on his own, and at the same time. Their fear was unnecessary, was what Rowan came to realise as they watched Frank fight.

Step, kick, swing. Out went the first guy. Dodge, swing, slide. Out went the second. Frank turned to face the last robber, who seemed to forget the fact that he had a gun on hand, and instead of firing, he swung the butt of the weapon at Frank, who side-stepped. Rowan watched in awe, observing the way Frank ducked away from the guy's attacks, and hit back with the same amount of force. Within a minute, the robber was out cold.

Rowan stumbled to their feet, ignoring the jelly in their legs to get to Frank. They gripped the taller's arms, scanning him up and down for injuries to find none. There was the odd scratch here and there, but nothing too major. Rowan looked him up and down so many times they lost count, before stepping away and facing Frank head-on.

"Okay, you have a lot of explaining to do, Mister." their voice came out a lot shakier than they intended. That could be blamed on the near-death experience.

Their words seemed to snap Frank back to reality. He took a couple of heavy breaths, before focusing on Rowan again.

"Right, explaining, right, yeah." agreed Frank with an absent look. "Let me just call a friend first..."