Content

Prologue:

It wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always like this. Two days ago I might have felt different. I might have reacted sooner. I might have been more. But two days ago has long passed.

Everything hurts. It hurts so deep, a razor dragged over my insides, darkness creeping through my mind, something wrong, dirty swallowing me whole. And I don’t really do anything about it. There is nothing I can do. Nothing, nothing, nothing, I think with a hollow smile, shakily unfolding my knees from my chest and stretching to snatch the empty journal from where it’s laid out in front of me.

The empty journal where I can speak to her, to Allison. Where she’ll listen. Where she will know.

Hands shaking uncontrollably, I begin to scribble messily, trying to control it, the opaque pain.

Allison,

You left me a letter. You left me a letter, and it’s driving me insane, flickering on and off again in my mind. Insanity, this is what it must feel like. Right? I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. How could you have done thing to yourself Ally? You were everything bright you know, like the light that lit up everyone’s darkness. And that light has suddenly died. It’s left this whole family in darkness. It’s different than when Mom or Rosa left. It’s worse. Does death follow me, Ally? I think so. Everywhere I go someone dies…Mom now you…Nathan won’t stop crying. It’s as if he doesn’t hear what I say. The sobs won’t stop! They ring and bounce along these cold, empty walls. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. How could you do this to us –me? How could you just leave? You were fucking thirteen. Thirteen… The pain has wrapped itself around my lungs. But don’t worry. I’m…coping. Blades help, cigarettes ease, drugs…drugs fucking free. The pain at my wrists takes away the pain of your long gone presence…but only for so long. It’s become a pattern for me, I’m sure. I’ll wake up every day and wait for you to call me, when you don’t, I’ll drag the blades over my skin until that’s all I feel. I will go on with my day, sniff myself into a haze, and cut over again, back to the smoking and by then, the day is over. It’s over, but you stay with me. I still see you at times, probably because I’m going fucking nuts. Dad doesn’t notice –or he doesn’t care, but it’s fine because school keeps me busy. This disgusting Private school…The works distracts me. Everything else…well, I don’t know.

But at the end of the day, you’re the only thing that’ll make me better.

I hope you’re happy, wherever you are now. I miss you. Come back soon?

Your brother,

Isaac.

It begins there. It ends there. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. And for now…That’s okay.

Faltering Steps (Isaac):

A Year Later:

The tardy bell rings loudly as I plow through the student body, my skin tight around my body, smothering me with the force of their stares. As if I’ve gone crazy and maybe, probably, it isn’t such a wrong assumption.

Ally. With faltering steps, I feel myself reel in the opposite direction of my Maths class, and enter the boy’s bathroom. I don’t linger, instead I jerk into a stall, locking the door with shaky hands before sinking to the cool, linoleum floors. Blindly, I dig through the piles of course work until I find what I’m looking for. In a small case, the metal blades, my saviors, gleam viciously, in a small kit beside them: gauze wrap and tape. There isn’t a packet of white, grainy crystals, but I’ve never bothered with drugs during school, because even though my future is probably obscure and lost, I’m going to at least try to make something of my pathetic being…

I don’t think about anything, not my father, who will be waiting for the chance to pounce me for being tardy to class again, not the tightly bound void in my chest or the emptiness in my life…All I can do is feel.

A sigh of relief falls passed my lips as I drag the blade harshly across the pale of my wrist, not being careful of how deep, just letting the hurt wash over me. Giddiness settles around the pain, and my head spins, but I know I have to get back to class, so I wrestle the gauze open and lay it over the gash, taping it in place. My stomach sinks as I tuck it cautiously into my messenger-bag and stand. Head still spinning, I hurry to my AP Calculus, smoothing my features into a carefully blank expression before I open the door.

Math isn’t my strongest point, but I like it this way because I have to actually focus on what the teacher, Mr. Lerwick says. That’s…good for me. So good. As I enter the class, I’m greeted by the bored stares of the other, rich snobs, and a smugly expectant Mr. Lerwick.

“Mr. Hastings, tardy again I see.” At the patronizing tone, I inwardly cringe, but outside I stifle my sigh and grip the tardy-pass in my pocket. It’s the tenth, and last, of Ash’s supply, which makes my heart sink a bit. My hands shake uncontrollably as I hand it over to Lerwick, who glances at it before shredding it into little bits and tossing it into the bin. My heart possibly hits rock bottom.

“Well, take your seat then.” Obediently, I sit at my constricting, wooden desk, just beside a blonde, Annabel I think her name is, from the Cheer team. She eyes me with glinting blue eye, and it prods at my brain, like a parasite, eating away at my numbness and leaving me cold and open.

My wrist gives a throbbing reminder when I pressure it on the desk, the pain sinking back into place. Annabel eyes me more but I try to ignore it, slowly taking my textbook out and finding the right page. A piece of paper lands in my line of vision, directly on the section I was about to read and I tense, trying not to react as I unfold the paper.

‘We kno wat u do in tha bthroom, faggot.’ I squeeze my eyes shut so that lights burst from beneath, effacing the words for the second. Snarky retorts flicker through my mind, but I can’t bring myself to let the note go or even open my eyes, so I don’t. For whatever time, I fight off the pesky emotions, and soon enough, it’s – I’m not about to break anymore. I’m about to roll the useless paper into a ball when a hand snatches it away and Lerwick comes into my line of vision.

“Mr. Hastings, mind if I share this with the class?” My throat tightens and I shake my head mutedly, though Lerwick doesn’t pay any mind, but instead clears his throat and recites the note. The class roars in laughter and – “Do you get off on this?” I ask quietly before I can stop myself.

Lerwick registers my words and turns impressive shades of red. “Remove yourself from my classroom!”

“With pleasure,” I reply bitterly, jacking my messenger bag over my shoulder and shooting through the doors. I don’t think about my father then. I don’t think about the endless disappointment and anger that I’ll be faced with at home. Especially for that stunt. It’s familiar to me, the snarky Private school teenagers having their fun…its okay, being loathed, especially when the feeling is mutual. Need blazes through my insides, chewing at my skin, urging me to speed my pace out into the parking lot. I stumble into the brand new Lexus, light-headed even as I drive to an outside of town gas station, where nobody will recognize the pathetic wreak in the unnecessarily expensive car. There, I unbuckle, scrapping my nails over the glove compartment until it falls open and I struggle through paperwork until my hand lands on the small baggy hidden far back.

My throat tightens with anticipation as I crinkle the plastic, everything sane and logical fading like my vision around the edges. The movements, embedded into my memory, are easy and practiced as I line a narrow white strip, already powdered down for the worst of days. I shut my eyes as I lean down and inhale deeply through my nose, the breath leaving me in a puff as frenzied bliss begins. Every snort is a safe-haven, working to loosen the black, sharp claws of my demons.

There, hidden by the confines of tinted-windows, the tiny crystals enter my bloodstream, white covering the black. Inhale, inhale, inhale. It continues like that until there was nothing left but dilated eyes and endless spaces of nothingness. For what feels like a long time, I sit there, staring at the vast, stretching worthlessness. The strings of my mind are cut, not to be mended by the inky hurt for what I hope is the entire night.

Something loud snaps me out of my blissful reverie and with flickering blinks, I look up to find traffic building, car-horns of obnoxious…what is it called again? Road-rage…With another blink, I unbuckle the now contracting seatbelt and manage to push myself from the car, movements languid and jerky, but still smooth. I smile bigger at that, wondering, as I open the gas stations heavy door, if it’s possible to be smooth and jerky. I never decide, instead I tell the older cashier what brand of cigarettes I want, unable to stop the impossibly sad smile on my lips.

“Bit young to take up bad habits, kid? Stuff kills you,” she tells, batting her eyelashes weirdly. I don’t bother telling her I’m already eighteen, but instead pull out my I.D, sliding it forward with a wider smile.

“Bit old to be flirting with me, yeah? Your advice is unwanted, thanks.” She looks shocked as she pulls back, falling into a rack of card of something I can’t really recognize. I frown a bit, still unsatisfied. Wordlessly, she pushes the packet under the glass and I snatch it quickly, diverting my gaze as I leave behind a twenty. She doesn’t try and stop me, but I don’t care, all I want is the poisonous chemicals everywhere, something less than what’s floating in me now, something easier.

I trek down an unfamiliar alleyway without thinking. You never think, idiot my conscious hisses, but I shrug, lighting the stick between my fingers and inhaling again.

“Hey, faggot!” On instinct, my eyes flit towards the sound to see three brawny men approaching. Something still works correctly in my haze because I turn and run, but I’ve never been an athlete and probably should know better. The first hit lands between my shoulders and I stumble under the force, crumpling like a rag-doll. Kicks, punches, whatever else fall heavily over my body, making my head swim, one particularly brutal kick to the face has my nose bleeding, or at least I think it’s the kick and not the coke.

The pain works as a piling wave of release for me. Won’t need any fresh cuts tonight I think with a pained smile. “F-feel satisfied na’?” My voice has never sounded as raw. Huh.

“Think you’re pretty little faggot?” Not at all. The taller, bald man with an itchy looking goatee retorts, grabbing a handful of my hair and dragging my face into the rubble. A whimper falls passed my lips, it hurts, but it hurts so good. “Not so pretty anymore.” I snort a bit, more thick liquid trickling onto my lips.

“You’ll be sorry ‘bout this.” Another man, much smaller, with dark hair kicks me in the side once more.

“What you gonna do? Bring your little boyfriend for us? Oh, I’m shakin’ in my boots.” They laugh, the sounds like the chalk screeching on the chalkboard to my ears.

“TJ, Matt, let’s go! Leave the poor kid alone!” A distant, shrilly voice calls. Little late, lady. The three sprint away. For some time, I simply lay there…but then there’s Ally. I recoil, shuffling backwards even as I take in the sight of my little-sister. She’s dressed in her usual outfit, a black Asking Alexandria sweater, loose ratty black jeans, and scuffed Converses. Her strawberry blonde hair still covers her right eyes as she peers down at me, green eyes concerned.

‘Oh Isaac…’ the winds whisper is my sister’s gentle voice. It makes me sick. With a deep, shuddery breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, inwardly chanting, she’s not there, she’s not there, and when I open my eyes again…She isn’t. It makes me want to cry. With a groan, I sit up, scrubbing the blood from my nose with the back of my uniform blazer before pulling out another cigarette and sucking on it. The crystals are fading –leaving me alone with the harsh cold. The pain in my body however, is bound to keep me up all night, which is fine.

Standing on wobbly legs, I make it over to my car to find the cashier from earlier sitting outside smoking her own toxic stick as she sniffles, eyes oozing tears. When she sees me, she inhales sharply, wiping hastily at the traitor tears.

“’m alright,” I tell her quietly when she scrambles forward, obviously worried by my appearance. “’m so sorry from being…the way I am. Don’t take that to heart…’cause to be completely honest, it’s just the way I am. Just, shit, um go back inside, forget you ever saw me –or just punch me in the face to get it all out.” I give her the chance, standing there awkwardly but she just looks startled and I really need to get home, so I turn and enter my car, reversing and driving off, ignoring the dazed look that I felt on my face. It wasn’t –I-I’m a mess.

At home, I carefully pad up the staircase and to the bathroom, thankfully unseen. In the mirror, I can tell my nose is crooked and with the heel of my hand I quickly set it, vision swirling at the pain. Suddenly, when I’ve finished washing the blood of my face, left with swollen skin and raised skin –soon to be scratches, Nathan, my seven year old brother, comes crashing into the bathroom.

“You’re in trooouuuubleee,” he mocks childishly. I shrug, passing him to enter my room where I change my white button up with one that’s not dyed with blood or dirt. It’s an everyday thing with my father, to dress appropriately, the way a man should. At thirty eight years, Richard looks like the male version of me, since I’ve taken the feminine attributes of my mother, who’d looked like a baby doll all her short life. Cropped brown hair, mossy green eyes, a strong jaw and worried brows, my father seems like an average well off American. Except, he isn’t really. Richard had grown up around his alcoholic parents with a lot of physical abuse, so he’d pushed himself to be “perfect”, never having drank, smoked, missed a day of work, or breakfast, or lunch, or dinner…No matter what. It was perfection in his own perspective, I guess.

I find myself looming before the dining room, where Richard sits at the head of the long wooden table. His face is darkened with anger, clear as an open book. With a heavy sigh, I make my way into the cold room just as Jane bustles in. “Where have you been?!” My stepmother is a short, average looking woman. Everything from her light brown hair, fair skin, and dainty figure speaks as much. The only above average attribute to Jane: her pretty, gun metal gray eyes. Eyes that are alarmed as she rushes over to me. I’m taller than her by an inch or so, about five foot five, so she easily inspects my face with warm hands.

“Isaac! What happened?” Jane is always so good to me, much more than I deserve. For that, I adore her, so my tone is soft when I speak.

“I fell.” She doesn’t even pretend to look convinced.

“Does it matter what happened, Jane? The God damned boy disrespected his teacher and has now earned a dent in his records. Wednesday School, Isaac Hastings. What will the College Board think?” It’s always come down to the College Board, I’d be dying and it’ll still be, “what will the College Board think, Isaac?".

Jane shoots him a hard glare. “Richard, let Isaac speak. Now, what happened to your face first, young man?”

I grimace at the last part. “We were playing dodge ball in Gym and I was the unlucky sucker who got a hit to the face with the ball,” I lie easily.

“Must’ve been a hard pitch.”

“The hardest,” I agree dryly, trying not to recall the toe of the boot that’d slammed into my face.

“Yes, now that that’s settled, what the hell happened in class today? This isn’t like you, Isaac.” I never turn my attention on my father; instead I wring my hands together anxiously.

“I only asked Mr. Lerwick a question, father.” Richard.

“And that question would be?” I grit my teeth, still unable to meet his patronizing gaze.

“If he got off on my embarrassment…?”

My father must be glaring at this point, but before I can even try to look up and see, he’s left the room, slamming the front door behind him. I know he’s going to vent his anger, at the gym, or work, he’s done this often when I’ve been stupid.

“Well then, that went well. Dinner’s ready, let’s eat, shall we?” I don’t answer, letting Jane chatter on about what was made for us today. It makes me nauseous but I still force a few bites of pasta down, not wanting to hurt her feelings. It’s over quickly, Nathan stealing the spotlight, and I’ve never been so grateful for him. It’s easy to excuse myself at that point and trudge up the steps to take a shower. The water’s scolding on the healing skin of my wrist and bruising body, but I wash twice, trying to scrub all feeling away, it doesn’t work, instead I find myself in more pain before. Go figure. Outside, my blonde hair hangs, soaking in my face, so I roughly dry it before going into my room and dressing into some type of designer boxers my drawers have been stocked with, tattered sweats, and a heavy, loose knit sweater.

From there, I calmly sit at my desk, and begin to write to Ally.

Ally,

Saw you again today. Why do you always have to look so damned worried? I’m fine. Well, as close as I can be at this point, okay? Did you watch those guys trash me? Guess a sharp tongue isn’t so useful after all…That wasn’t funny was it? Ha. It’s been a long day…long, long, long. But I got through it. The coke dose wasn’t very heavy and I only took the blade to my skin once. I don’t know what I’m saying or why. Sorry bout that. I’m just…lost and tired. So tired…Just wanna –wanna escape. Wanna fly or float where nothing touches me...Yeah, yeah, I’ll write you tomorrow…

Missing you always,

Isaac .xx

I finish numbly, uncurling my finger to calmly curl into a ball in the middle of my bed. Without the duvet, I don’t feel confined into myself, but the cold curls around my figure, leaving me trembling. My mind short-wires and suddenly, I’m thinking of Rosa. I miss her. I miss being able to be the rock to support her…It’s been a long year without seeing her every day, or being lucky to even see her once during the month. But it doesn’t worry me much, not when she’s got Bastien to support her. Bastien. The name drags back unknown memories…JasonJason…Who the hell is Jason? The word flashes through my mind and it fucking hurts! Like…like fire sinking into my chest…trying to find that horribly weak point…Jason.

The weak point is never found, because my temples throb mercilessly in a headache and I gasp. Hangover is the last bitter thing I think before my eyes fall shut and I sink into the only actual calm I can ever find.

Take Me Home, Back To 'im (Jason)

Colorado surrounds me. Something weird stirs in my heart, which is deafeningly loud in my ears, beating crazier than usual. My speed is languid as I exit the terminal, staring through the glass walls. Everything is exactly how I remember it: the same mountains, same trees, middle-class town. All the same. I don’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed.

As I wait for my brother, backpack being the only luggage I’ve returned with, I think back to the last time I’d been here. A year gone seemed much longer than I’d first thought.

‘Fire crackles before my eyes, aguish threatening to crush my lungs, back in that fucking barn. Mineminemine is all I can manage to think as I tear through the forests on my feet, finding myself before the collapsing structure. Following my instinct, I slip passed the cricketing (what used to be) slide door. The first thing I set on is my mate, and it feels like something has burst inside me, if I find him in less than perfect condition…Somebody would pay.

I waste no time. I work quick and everything blazes over me. My canines grow in but I barely feel them, focused on mine. There’s no time, it seems for revenge…I have to make sure he’s safe as well as the woman at his side. I know this woman, but it’s hard to place a name in my rage. Instead, I shifted to grab them both up and carry them out, about to leave with the distinct French words…Bastien.

First Isaac then I’ll go back. And I did…I did, except I’d gone in for two and come back with one…’

I remember how crazy the choice had made me, but now, I know there wouldn’t have been a choice, not with a bonded male. Yet, Rosa’s father (who I now knew was my uncle) had saved his daughters mate…It was all I could’ve asked for, that my best-friend and his mate were alive. Though my own mate was a much more…screwed up story all together. The mark over my left pectoral felt ablaze almost all hours of the day, a sign of his pain, and I tried to ignore it the best I could…which wasn’t the greatest. We longed to go home, not for my family or pack, for my mate…and it killed me a little more everyday to be restrained. To know he was probably better off without me.

“Jason?” At the sound of my name, I pivoted, storing the thoughts away to smile at my younger brother. He was alone, which meant I wouldn’t have to deal with my parents just yet. Thank fuck. “Man, you just keep getting bigger and bigger! How tall are you now? Six two?”

Jonah was seventeen now, with sandy blonde hair and my mother’s brown eyes and he stood at five foot ten.

“Close, but six three now.” He shook his head ruefully. I’d missed my brother, no matter if we fought almost every time we had a conversation. It was just that we were too alike. A clown around tomfoolery.

We started towards the lot in silence, both getting use to the one another’s heavy presences. My eyes instantly landed on my car and thankfully (for Jonah) it was exactly (well, close enough) how I’d left it. No scratches or dents. Still jet-lagged I let Jonah keep the keys, though I immediately regret the choice when he starts it up and Kanye West blares. It wasn’t that rap was a bad thing, just that I was too young to go deaf, really.

I turn the crap off and let my head fall back on the head rest, shutting my eyes. “How are Mother and Father?” I ask without much interest.

“Same as always.” I’d known that would be the answer.

“And High School?”

“It’s pretty chill actually. I got onto Varsity football, not much of a surprise though…” his voice fades when I feel the light burn at my pec. Isaac again. What the hell was he doing? I clench my teeth at that. In a week or so, I’ll be starting at the Private school I know he goes too (through reliable sources. Bastien). More to the point, if I find someone even looking at my little mate wrong, I’d snap because I’d gone to long without protecting him…It was simple as that.

“Hellloooooooo!? Are you listening?” With a blink, I focus on Jonah, whose glaring dagger at me.

“Yeah…?” The whites of his eyes disappear and –

“Really, Jonah? Don’t start, I’d destroy you.” It’s completely serious.

“So sure of yourself aren’t you? You haven’t come at me in a whole year.” And? The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I roll my eyes without answering instead, knowing Jonah was short-tempered, like myself, the only different was that I know self-control. That’s the exact reason we’d waited so long to put him in a real school with real assholes.

We pull up at the iron gates; Jonah enters the code while I ready myself for my father’s tests, gazing sourly at the extravagant manor. It was three stories unnecessary for a family of four. There was a pool (a duh) and two building garages that held two cars in each. I was pretty simplistic, while the rest of my pack bathed in expensive shit. My mother especially, she was all for materials, all of which my father offered. I wasn’t really sure if either of my parents were mates or loved each other, but I liked to think so.

As I enter the house, I note that nothing’s change. The well decorated inside is just as cold as it’d been a year ago. In my room, I drop my backpack, inspecting. The room is large and bare of decoration. There was a laptop on a desk, but I hadn’t bothered with a TV, it was all too fake for me: the perfect lives, happily ever afters, complete bullcrap.

I hear the footsteps of my advancer light and careful just before my Mother’s quite voice fills the room around me. “Son?” I squeeze my eyes shut, but mask all the loss of my features to turn and face her.

“Mathine.” My Mother smiles hesitantly, walking up to me and brushed strands of hair from my eyes.

“You’ve grown so well…Taller than your Alpha.” I nod, head bowed low. “He is waiting below for you.” My Alpha, I think bitterly, brushing away from her touch to ease down the stairs. He is waiting for me. At six foot two, my Father looks like me with the same blue eyes, blond hair, and aura. Nobody would guess that we are nothing alike…That we never would be.

“Father,” I am void of emotions as I kneel. It’s tradition for an Alpha’s Beta to offer such trust.

“You may stand, Jason.” Nothing would ever please my Alpha, however. I obey anyway.

“Let us begin then,” he says, started away. I sigh, knowing what awaited me outside. My pack was going to watch me fight my own Father…And probably fail.

Pain covers my body, shoving me back into reality. With a wince, I shoot up, slapping a hand over my eyes. I am going to…I am going to do nothing I think pathetically, as I shower. Jesus, I hate mornings.

I dress quickly, a black tee and jeans. Before I leave my room, I grab my bag and car keys, and then head out. As I’m about to reverse, Jonah stops me, climbing easily into the passenger, picking uninterestedly at an apple. I roll my eyes, but ignore him, turning the radio to the rap we’d left off on, trying to tune out his mental complaints about starting a new school.

In Montana I’d mastered skills I hadn’t thought possible…Mind reading, shifting certain body parts, hypnotism…It was surreal, but hell if it didn’t make me stronger.

As I pull into the high school, people eye the car hungrily. It’s a nice school I notice unimpressed and allow Jonah to get out first. He’s swarmed by girls and I think it’ll straighten him out. I get out much the same, smirking when a few smiled at me shyly, but heading for the teenagers from the pack that’d followed us. To my pleasure, some of the Wolves from last year had transferred also…There was Josh, who apparently is skipping with Irish, Zach, Javier, and multiple others.

“You back?” It’s Josh who asks.

“Obviously,” I tell him. “Missed the show last ev.?” He nods a bit. His blue eyes never focusing on me. If Josh wasn’t a wolf, he would not have made it in our lifestyle, he was that blind.

“I kicked my dad’s ass.” He smiles half-heartedly. Iris looks confused enough that I have to laugh. She looks more like her sister, I note. Tired, as if she doesn’t get much sleep…It was probably true too.

“Huh,” Josh mutters in disbelief. I hadn’t expected it either, but I was officially the next Alpha…Which wasn’t that big of a deal for me…I didn’t want that…

The bell rings then and I head to AP Lit, wondering where Isaac is…

Unbelievable (Isaac [PREVIEW])

“C’mon Isaac, tell me, what happened to your face?” I smile sourly at Ash.

This morning I’d woken up to a bruised cheek and swollen eye, thankfully enough, the scratches at my sides are hidden underneath my shirt. Now, we sit at his table, along with the other soccer players whose names I don’t remember.

“It’s nothing Ashton,” I tell him for what feels like the hundredth time. “Will you please just drop it?” With hard brown eyes, he shakes his head and I breathe an annoyed sigh. How typically Ash.

“If it was someone here you know you can tell me…” his voice is softer now, and deep inside, I know I should be kinder, but the defense mechanism is too strong to deny.

As I open my mouth to retort something snarky the bell rings and Ash groans in defeat. We walk in silence towards my AP Literature until at the door, he leans into kiss me. I deflect it, turning my head so that his lips brush over my cheekbone. I feel nothing, still, no matter how much I want to. It feels wrong, but I allow it, not wanting to hurt my only friend’s feelings. Ash falls back with a deep breath and I blink, leaving him in the hallway without another word.

In the classroom, I slouch in my seat, glaring down at my tangled hands, unaware of anything but my discomfort when someone shuffles beside me. What…? I tense. Nobody has ever sat beside me in this class…That is how I prefer it.

Slowly, I peek up at the intruder and choke on my breath. There’s a boy –no, a man, who is absolutely gorgeous. His blonde hair is cropped, just reaching his forehead, but his face is strong, harsh angles, and his black eyes are boring into mine. Black eyes? I blink harshly, but when I open my eyes again, yeah, he’s real and he’s still staring with those terrifying eyes.

Okay, I think with a deep breath, act like a human Isaac. I could do that. My hands shake as I lean down to my backpack, pulling out a heavy college ruled notebook, trying to ignore him but his presence is forceful, worse than arrogant, but condescending.

“Isaac?” The seductive way he says my name sounds so…familiar. My heart flutters weirdly.

“How do you know my name?” I demand quietly.

He blinks, mouth tipping in amusement. “It’s on your notebook.” I look down and find to my deep embarrassment, that it really is, written in obnoxious bold letters. I’m such an idiot.

“Oh…” Idiot.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” he says in that quiet, rough way. Oh? Oh…He’s new. He doesn’t know to avoid me at all costs yet. That explains his optimism.

I still don’t speak. Pretty-Boy frowns, obviously confused as to why I’m acting so incompetent. I smile half-heartedly at that.

“’m Jason,” the other supplies and I roll my eyes.

“Look at me, please.” I nearly groan at the soft, almost irresistible tone he uses. What is this guys deal?

“I’d rather not,” I mutter awkwardly. At this time, the teacher, Mrs. Baxter enters the room and the pressure at my head, the need to look at him, mercifully disappears, leaving behind a terrible headache.

Mrs. Baxter starts the lesson, but I ignore the chatter, wondering why yesterday had gone to complete shit. First, I’d woken up to Nathan snooping through my bags, and of course he’d found my packet. After telling my father, who’d almost had a heart attack, I’d been instructed to take him out, wherever he’d pleased, which thankfully was just for pizza and ice-cream. I love my brother, but there’s only so much pressure I can take.

Pulling me from my thoughts, the bells rings and hastily I gather my books and shoot towards the door, greeting Ash, who’s already waiting, brown eyes detached.

“Hi,” I say, trying to move as fast I can. Not fast enough apparently.

“Isaac!” Ash turns first, and I think about ignoring the voice, but I figure it’s better to get this over with now.

“Who’s your friend?” Pretty-Boy Jason questions far too defensively, completely ignoring Ash sizing him up. I open my mouth to retort but Ash speaks first. Joy.

“Ash and I’m his boyfriend.” My eyebrows shoot up. Boyfriend?

I find my voice. “You are?” Ash glares.

“And who are you?” Talk about pissing contest, really.

“Jason, a new friend,” he says this bitterly and really? At this point, anxiety is creeping into me.

“Okay, first of all, Ash you’re not my boyfriend. Second, Jason, piss off, you’re not my friend.” With that, I leave them, heading for the schools parking lot. I’m not angry at them, more so myself.

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Dedication:
Okay, too all my fans who stuck around after Rosalina's Hope! I'm uploading Isaac's story, but it's much different from the last upload! :) Also, this is for gay rights & just human freedom in general! ~GO RAINBOWS;) -D

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