Shaking off the unsettling message from Tobias, I headed up the stairs, taking two steps with each stride. I didn't feel like being late for this art class. I wanted to be the one sitting down when he walked in, not the other way around. The thought had me gritting my teeth: something was seriously wrong with me. Why did I care so much, why did I let him occupy so much space in my head? Sure, he had this mystery-thing going on around him and he was seriously good looking, but... he wasn't nice, he wasn't even pleasant. He was a first-class douche by the looks of it, and I was just fooling myself into believing that there was something more to him. Sure, Tyra had just spilled the beans, or not spilled the beans, but yeah. There was something more to him, but it didn't mean I should try to be involved. If he had problems, then all the more reason to stay clear of him.

When I walked into the classroom I saw Sebastian sitting by himself, looking down at his desk. Always hiding, I thought. I went over to him, but as he tensed his shoulders, I realized that I made him uncomfortable just by being close. I wanted to wrap him up in my arms, telling him that everything was okay, but I couldn't do that. I wasn't his friend. He didn't trust me.

"Hey," I said, tentatively.

He looked up, meeting my eyes and stared at me with his soft green ones. I'd never seen them before as he had hidden them behind his dark fringe. For some reason, they turned hard.

"What do you want?" he said, pushing out each word, trying to be someone he clearly wasn't.

"Hey, don't get your shield up, you remind me of a friend, a friend I miss. I just wanted to talk," I said, trying to disarm him. He squinted his eyes, perhaps debating if he should trust me or not.

"...but it's fine if you don't want to. I'm not such a bad guy, though, or wait—perhaps I am." I tried to sport all the charm I could muster at the moment. It earned me a slight spasm at the corner of his mouth. Not a full smile, but it sure felt like one.

I heard a chair being pulled across the floor, giving off that characteristic sound of metal against laminate. I looked over my shoulder and saw Zach sitting down. It was enough to make me cringe, remembering every little detail from yesterday I'd rather not. I tore my eyes off his back and looked back at Sebastian. He raised a questioning eyebrow and I mentally face-palmed myself. This little guy was a clever fellow, far too perceptive, just like Jonah. It was almost scary how much they seemed to have in common.

"I'll talk to you later," I said, giving him one of my lopsided grins. He nodded, and I couldn't help but feel a little bit victorious.

The rest of the students started to enter, one by one or in small groups. I sat down, deliberately avoiding to look at the guy next to me. I pulled up my drawing of him, realizing that it wasn't much better. I wanted to groan as the emotional turmoil running rampant inside, not caring what it did to me or my mental health.

"Zach, where's your drawing?"

I looked up, and saw Ms. Neat stand in front of Zach, her mouth in a disapproving line. "I'm not letting you slack just because you show a bit of talent young man," she continued.

He didn't answer.

"Don't give me that look, Zach," she said, staring back with hard eyes.

"I threw it away," he answered flatly. His voice so thoroughly disengaged that I wondered briefly if he was alive or not. Perhaps he was one of those zombies that roamed around in our alternate universe.

"You threw it away? You won't get any marks for this assignment," Ms. Neat's disappointment was obvious. Then she turned toward me and peered at my drawing, which made me look at it as well. It wasn't better this time around. In fact, it was awful. It wasn't Zach, it was someone else. "Well, here's another young man with a talent." She held the drawing at arm's length and adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses. Nervous, I shot a quick look at Zach to see if he was watching. He wasn't.

She gave it back without another word and continued her journey along the tables. Clasping the thick paper, I wanted to toss it, just as he had done.

That's when I realized that I still had his drawing in my bag. I hadn't been able to look at it again. I didn't know if I wanted to, didn't know if I could take it out.

I took a deep breath, unclenched my hands and retrieved it. It was wrinkled. I held it, looked over at Zach and nearly choked. He was staring at me, staring at me and then the drawing in my hand. I shot up from my chair, wanting to get away from that stare. For some reason, the room seemed to have grown silent, just like that. I felt eyes burning my skin, staring with undisguised curiosity, but I refused to acknowledge them. I couldn't sit down again. I had made my choice.

I walked up to Ms. Neat, or whatever her name was, each step heavier than the previous one. I laid the drawing on her desk and walked out of the room. I couldn't stay, couldn't meet Zach's eyes as I didn't want to know what I would see in them.

I heard a gasp just as I left. "This is a wonderful drawing Zach!" Ms. Neat called out. I winced, he hadn't wanted anyone to see that drawing, and I'd just betrayed him.

I didn't really know where to go. I'd left my stuff in there, but I couldn't really go back in to get them. I decided to get out into the sun and out of the stifling air.

I found a bench, sat down and pulled out my phone. I wrote a message to Jonah, telling him all the things that I didn't feel like telling anyone else. How I had become a mess in a matter of two days just because of a stupid dude that I didn't know shit about. Then I deleted it. I pulled up a cigarette instead, fooling myself into relaxation. It didn't work.

Half an hour later, I heard the bell urging me back to class. I had to go back to fetch my stuff, but I really didn't want to. I'd made a fool of myself by walking out. Not just to Zach, but to the entire class. I decided to lit another one, inhaling the toxic smoke, relishing in the thought that it brought me one little step closer to death.

"Hey," I startled at the sound of the soft voice. I looked up and smiled widely.

"Seb, nice to see you."

"I brought your things."

He handed me the bag, smiling softly.

"You're a lifesaver, thanks!"

"Ms. Demet put this on your desk, I didn't look at it," he said, pulling out a note from his pocket.

Thank you! it read. Perhaps I wasn't in as much trouble as I'd thought. So her name was Ms. Demet, not Ms. Neat. Well, it made sense.

"You're going to be late for class," I said, looking up at Sebastian again.

"You too..." He still wore that cute smile that reminded me of Jonah.

"Okay, let's go then, wouldn't want to get you into trouble for saving my ass."

We started walking, and I managed to calm down a bit, but that was before Sebastian started to talk. "I've never seen him so pissed."

"Huh?"

"Zach..." he said to clarify.

"Oh."

I wanted to hit something, hard... Why had I been so stupid? I swallowed the feeling, not wanting to show my new friend that I cared about what Zach thought about me. I couldn't help but tense up, however, and I saw Sebastian giving me that look again, the look that told me that he understood more than he should have.

"He wanted it back," he added. "...but she wouldn't let him have it."

"Why?" I asked, before I could stop myself.

"She said that she knew he would destroy it, then she sent him out of the classroom."

I didn't really know how to answer, so we walked the rest of the way in silence.

The day got a little better after that. I received a few strange looks, but I was used to that. I'd never been the invisible guy, rather I took up too much space, required too much attention. In the end I thought I'd gotten away with my stunt in class. I couldn't have been more wrong. Suddenly I was slammed into a locker and I found myself staring into those mesmerizing eyes.

"Why?" he asked, his voice cold, calculated, nothing in it to indicate what he felt—unless adding the fact that he'd just pushed me. He didn't touch me, he didn't punch me, he just stared. "Fuck you," he said at last, but there was no real emotion behind the word, not even anger, just...nothing.

He was by far the strangest person I'd ever come across.

"Fuck you," I growled back, showing nothing of the emotional restraint he seemed to have. I wanted nothing more than to let out my frustration. I wanted to beat him until he showed me something, anything. I wanted a reaction, no, I needed a reaction. However, I had never punched anyone, and I wasn't going to start now.