"This is how an angel cries. Blame it on my own sick pride; blame it on my ADD, baby."—Awolnation.

The weekend swept away as fast as the wind, with no sign of Blaze and an empty dorm with only the squeaky sounds of anime characters being my companion.

I had the intention of heading home for the weekend, but my mom had a church camping convention to get to and so I spent my free days in the dorm alone, doing my laundry, reading manga, and watching a marathon of Attack on Titan.

April had offered that I come along with her to Tia's house for the weekend, but I didn't want to intrude in someone's private space, so I declined the offer while providing a half-lie that I was to head home for the short break. She bought it without question and left after watching an episode of the anime with me.

The kiss plagued my mind all weekend. But every time it resurfaced my head, I was hit with what April had told me about it just being a part of his narcissistic cycle. So, after a Sunday of daydreaming, back-logging, and self-reflection, I concluded that I will be staying away from Blaze Xander for good. I will keep my distance until eventually our short interaction fades into nothingness and we become two strangers once again. He's popular around here so he'll find another girl to hang around soon, and I'll be back into my quiet, distant world where I truly belong.

Yeah, I see where that plan could work.

I leave the dorm to head to class in a dark grey, sleeveless dress with low-hanging pockets, my hair tied up in a bun, and a pair of white ballet flats on my feet. I grip the straps of my bag as I traverse down the empty hallway, the early morning sun escaping through the block windows and spreading its golden beams onto the slippery floors.

Checking the slim watch on my wrist, I beam when I discover that it's only 7:20 am. I'll be arriving at English class before schedule; I am already seeing the positive effects of not interacting with Blaze Xander.

Ever since I met him, I have only been tardy to my lectures or falling back on completing my homework ahead of time. He's not healthy for my heart or my academics and being around him is disabling me from putting all my focus on my studies. I can't afford to become distracted; I need my degree.

It's as if the universe is playing against me since as I break the corner, I instantly spot the person I should be keeping my distance from. He's standing at the corner of the stairway, a beanie hat covering his dark hair and his torso adorned with a black, loose tank top with wide underarm slits. Grey jaggers and a pair of black Nike sneakers complete his attire and his palms are pressed against his waists as he glares ahead of him in what looks like anger.

I bite my lip, curiosity getting the better of me. He doesn't seem fine and I am tempted to check if he's alright. We do share the same English class anyway, much to my remembrance, and so avoiding him today would be equal to impossible.

I'll just ask if he's fine. That's all.

I suck my bottom lip in as I begin to stalk toward him, but as soon as I am about to break the narrow corner, my eyes meet upon an older man. I skid in my tracks and back-step, putting my body behind the wall as my ear peeks in inquisition.

"Ms. Fen says you haven't gone back to see her yet Blaze, why's that?"

Blaze rolls his eyes skyward, using a hand to rub his lips in annoyance. His jaws are tightly grounded, and his expression is laced with maliciousness.

"I think you should go to see her. That'd be best."

Blaze points his glare to the male in front of him and he looks so scary that goosebumps begin to design my skin.

"I already told you that I am not going back there, are you fucking deaf?"

I wince at the obscenity of his language as my eyes drift to the receiver of the curse word. The man looks to be in his early forties, but I can't properly explore his features and appearance since he's standing at a side-view. However, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes do showcase that he is old enough to be Blaze's dad and yet, he just used such an improper word at the man. Apparently, he has zero manners or respect for those older than him.

"Why not?" The anonymous man questions calmly, pushing his hands into the pockets of his neatly ironed trousers. "You aren't better yet so you need to see her, Blaze. It's your health."

"Why do I need to see a therapist?" He crosses his arms lividly, his brows dropping as he leers at the adult. "Huh? Am I fucking mad? Do I look insane?"

Once again, his rude vocabulary surprises me, but not as much as the question he just posed.

Therapist? Why does he need to see a therapist?

The man blows his cheeks out in frustration, and I can tell that he is genuinely worried about the unruly boy standing in front of him. "You should go this weekend."

"No, I have a party this weekend, I am not going so don't even dream about it," Blaze says it all in a heartbeat and begins to walk off in my direction.

The man ruffles his hair and turns his torso to his retreating figure. "Do not walk away from me Blaze, I am your father!"

I gasp.

That's his...Dad?

Without sparing the man another glance, Blaze continues to move toward me, and I freeze in a panic, unsure of where to run and escape. I look around me frantically, desperately wishing I could just disappear right now.

He's going to be mad when he discovers that I overheard his conversation!

Registering that it's much too late, I hang my head in embarrassment as I wait for his angry words to aim at me, but much to my surprise he just steps right past as if I am not there. It's impossible for him to not have seen me, so it's evident that he's ignoring my presence.

Wanting to offer an apology, I turn around quickly and grasp his bare bicep. "Blaze—"

"What Harmony?! WHAT?!" He roars at me, and I shakily release him as I step back, my eyes immediately stinging at the rage his voice holds.

Why exactly is he shouting at me?

His firm glare bores through mine, his upper eyelids raised in a demanding stare. I lower my eyes from him, tears of humiliation massing within them. "N-nothing..."

He hisses under his breath with annoyance and walks off, and I am now left alone in the hallway, feeling like I should have just minded my own business.

••

My eyes and nose are red as I gaze into my notebook, jotting down notes during Mr. Jones's lecture. Needless to say, I cried for a while in the hallway like a kid after he yelled at me. Mainly because no one has ever pointed such a rage toward me. My mom will sometimes get angry if I fail to do the dishes on time or something, but clenched jaws, flared nostrils and blazing eyes are not something I am accustomed to.

On the flip side, I guess I can understand why he'd be angry. I did overhear sensitive information that certainly was not for my knowledge. I would probably be just as mad if someone discovered that I am supposed to be seeing a therapist. That's not something I would want to advertise. Maybe I did deserve being yelled at that way?

Chewing my lips, I glance over at where Blaze sat in our last class. It's already thirty minutes in and he isn't here; he probably will not be attending. I recall when he told me he normally arrives an hour in or not at all and considering how mad he was this morning I don't think he'll be showing up today. Mr. Jones's boring speech would probably make his mood a lot crabbier.

Focusing back to my notebook, I hear the door to the theatre opens and everyone drags their eyes in the direction.

Blaze steps into the room, still wearing his beanie hat with his knapsack hanging off his left shoulder. The female population of the class begins a series of whispering and blushing, clearly reveling in his appearance. However, Mr. Jones's expression is noticeably the opposite; he looks extremely upset. I thought the teachers here didn't care for tardiness.

"You are late Mr. Xander," he says, crossing his arms against his chest.

I inwardly wince at what Blaze's response might be, but to my astonishment, his lips break into a jovial smile. "My bad, Mr. Jones. Won't happen again."

Without even realizing it, a slight smile of relief appears on my face. He's back to his normal self; I hope I never see that angry and strange side to him again. And if minding my own business is the way to ensure that, I'll turn a blind eye to everything that doesn't concern me.

Mr. Jones is still angry despite Blaze's apology but decides to rest the case as he returns to teaching his lesson, his deep, croaky voice echoing in the spacious theatre.

Blaze plods over to my side of the room, ignoring the girls that are openly gushing over him as he does. He pulls out the chair next to me and as usual, his fresh, clean scent extends across the cool, air-conditioned room. I keep my eyesight on my notebook, choosing not to look in his direction to warrant another aggressive response. His yelling at me sure does it make it a lot easier to keep my distance, huh?

But then he props his elbows onto the table, a wide grin surfacing his face as he slightly slopes his head to catch sight of my face. "Good morning, Harmony." His tone is serene and light-hearted, and it strikes me with confusion.

I can't understand him. Wasn't he angry at me this morning? And now he's smiling as if he didn't just shout at me in the hallway.

"Morning," I mutter. My response is almost inaudible. Not only because we are in the middle of a lecture, but additionally because I am still a tad hurt by how he snapped at me earlier.

Noticing this, he sighs as he sits upright, retrieving his exercise book from his bag. "Are you mad about this morning?"

I shake my head, refusing to look in his direction. "No."

"Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?"

I stiffen, looking over at him before turning my face away. "No."

"Don't lie to me, Harmony. It's okay to be angry. Anyone would be," he continues, and I glance up to see if Mr. Jones is watching us. He did say to keep my distance from him so conversing with him in class makes me a bit uncomfortable. "I was just...upset. It wasn't my intention."

Perceiving that as an apology, I look over at him with a soft sigh. "Well, I am sorry I heard what I wasn't supposed to."

He doesn't say anything to this, he just looks away and opens his notebook. His expression is now back to an unsmiling one and I conclude that I don't want to talk about what I overheard this morning anymore. It seems it's a very touchy topic for him and I will respect that. He's better when he's smiling and truth be told, his frown scares me.

I try to switch the topic, hoping to uplift his mood. "So um, I heard English Level One is only for first years. Why are you doing it in your second year?"

His smile comes back, and I inwardly sigh in relief as he shields his mouth with a palm, leaning into me and blessing me with his pleasant body scent. "Well, I have to do it this year because last year I couldn't bear doing this stupid subject. It's boring as fuck and Mr. Jones makes it so much worse."

I titter a little. His vulgar language still affects me, but his statement is much too accurate for me to pay attention to it.

"Yeah, he kind of sucks," I crinkle my nose, and he widens his eyes dramatically.

"Kind of? He sucks a whole lot, Harmony. Like he's so annoying. I heard he's cheating on his wife with a college girl."

I gasp. "Really?"

"Yeah, they caught them fucking in—"

"Blaze Xander!" Mr. Jones barks his name, and I sink in my shoulders as we pull our attention to the irritated educator at the front of the room. I have never been caught talking in a class before so it's kind of anxiety-striking, but Blaze seems to be used to it since he's smiling mischievously, lazily sprawling back in his chair with widely open thighs. "Yes, Mr. Jones?"

The lecturer clenches his teeth so hard that his veins pulse at his temples, and I suddenly get the impression that he has a personal grudge against Blaze for some strange reason. The temper his eyes hold looks way beyond hatred.

"You are distracting my first-year student," he says sternly. "Do you think that what you have to say is more important than my lesson?"

Blaze sinks his white teeth into his pink bottom lip, fighting off a laugh that threatens to spring free. His dimples are busting out of his cheeks and his eyes are laced with obvious amusement. "My apologies."

I know he didn't mean that; it sounded insincere.

Mr. Jones must have noticed this too since he presses his palms to his waists, letting out a loud sigh. Hanging his head for a while, he looks up with finality. "I think you should find another seat, Xander."

I inwardly frown. I talk to no one else in this class, and although I should be keeping my distance from Blaze, he does gives me some amount of survival in this boring lecture. I love English, but Mr. Jones is enough to make even Shakespeare hate the subject.

Blaze doesn't say anything for a while, and then I take notice of how he taps his index finger lightly against the desk. I am now realizing that he does that gesture out of habit.

"Why should I?" He challenges, and the class gasps at his response. I am not sure why I am still surprised after I witnessed how rude he spoke to his father this morning.

Mr. Jones furiously narrows his eyes at him. "Because I said so. You are a bad influence on that young lady. And I don't want you to lead her down that dark and loathsome path of yours."

I cringe at his words before glancing over at Blaze. His jovial smile has finally left, replaced with a dark glare that sends chills down my body.

That look. It scares me to bits.

"So get up and find another seat." Mr. Jones continues through gritted teeth, and I wish he'd stop talking. The energy that the boy next to me is giving off doesn't feel right at all.

Blaze sits upright in his chair and continues to tap his forefinger against the table. My eyes slump to the action and something about it feels extremely ominous.

"Mr. Jones...with all due respect...I don't even listen to my own father," he starts with a sigh. "So what makes you think, that I would listen to whatever the fuck you say?"

I gape.

Did he just—?

The class is in awe, and awe for me is an understatement. Though the confrontation with his father this morning has already revealed that he speaks however he wants to whoever he wants.

Mr. Jones glares hard at him, but he doesn't seem surprised. Maybe this isn't their first head-to-head.

"Get up now!" He insists, speedily making his way up the center steps toward us.

Blaze says nothing, and I look over at him, realizing that his brows are tightly clutched together. He seems as if he's about to lose his temper any minute now and anxiety grows within me.

I try to coax him in a bid to quench the rising fire. "It's okay, Blaze. He is just trying to provoke you."

He doesn't respond to me, his finger still tapping on the desk at a faster speed while his opposite hand is shoved into the open compartment of his bag.

And then I see it. A knife. A shiny, sharp cutting knife hiding inside the darkness of his bag, tightly clutched into his palm.

Oh, God. Why does he have a—

"Get up now!" The man roars, and Blaze gestures to stand up, probably to stab the lecturer when I jump up from my seat quickly. "I will move, I will—"

"Sit down, Harmony!" Blaze yells at me, and I immediately oblige. The stern look he gave me this morning is back and I am scared out of my wits.

He stands up, sizing up to Mr. Jones, and I realize that he hovers over the teacher's head effortlessly. Blaze is tall, making the lecturer seems like nothing but an ant below him. My eyes search his hands for the knife, but luckily, he's not holding it. I sigh in relief, breathing out through my mouth.

"I think you should go back to the board and teach your class," he orders softly with a clear smirk on his face.

A creepy, clear smirk.

Mr. Jones narrows his eyes and I am praying he just does what he says because I am starting to realize that Blaze is probably not a sane person.

"For the sake of you and your wife." Blaze adds.

A strong threat is lined in his tone and a glint of danger flashes in his dark, blue eyes. Mr. Jones seems to notice it too as he swallows thickly, looking away from the simpering boy in front of him. His angry expression is unchanging, but he has decided to lose the war since he turns around and walks back down the carpeted stairway.

Blaze plops back into his chair, lounging back with a smile as Mr. Jones resumes his lesson as if nothing had happened. The class is equally as out-of-it as I am as they attempt to get their minds back into the frame of learning.

My hands and legs are trembling as I glance over at Blaze whose gaze is now blank as he fixes his face ahead. A million things are going through my head and the most probing questions are: Why does Blaze have a knife in his bag? Who takes a knife to class?

Mr. Jones was being rude without a doubt but the scary fact that Blaze seemed as if he would stab his teacher in a heartbeat deeply scares me. Who is this guy?

••

Class finally ends without someone getting stabbed to death and I am more than relieved. While all the students get up from their seats, Blaze gazes over at me as I stuff my notebook into my bag. "Where are you heading now, Harmony?"

I peer up at him. His full lips are dragged into a smirk as if he hadn't just had an almost bloody altercation with his lecturer. Is he bipolar?

I blink rapidly, focusing back to my bag as I zip it up. "I-I think I have another class."

"You think?"

I look up at him as he splays an arm over my chair. "Not sure?"

"No-I mean yeah, I am sure. I have International Fiction."

He rubs his chin. "What the fuck is that?"

"Um, I guess it has to do with books and writing...stuff like that."

He nods comprehensively.

I purse my lips as I stand up from my seat, and he gets up too, placing his bag onto the desk before crouching down to tie the laces of his black Nike sneakers.

"Ms. Skye, can I talk to you?" Mr. Jones calls to me from his podium, his face still set into its hard expression.

Blaze straightens up, and his jaw is clenched once again. He genuinely doesn't like this man.

"Um..." I pull my gaze from him and to my professor. "Sure."

"I'll be waiting outside," Blaze announces as he swings his bag over his shoulder and walks away.

I make my way down to Mr. Jones whose eyes are following Blaze as he steps through the door.

"Ms. Skye, I thought I warned you before?" He begins with raised eyebrows. "You will ruin yourself hanging around a boy like that."

I sigh, unsure of what to say. I have been disobeying everyone's words lately, so I have no excuse to present. I don't know why it's so hard to stay away from him; I don't know what on earth he did to me.

"He's not a good person, and you will fall into a ditch if you keep on hanging out with him. Yes, he's good looking and young and vibrant but you don't know what that young man is capable of."