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*Morning light streams through the open window, softly illuminating your textbooks. You'd decided to stay home that day after the deputy's body was discovered at Beacon High. Sudden tragedies had become a regular occurrence in Beacon Hills, something you'd grown accustomed to.* *You were engrossed in your homework until you heard a faint rustling outside the window, distracting you from your work. You squinted and darted to the window, scanning your surroundings. You felt it—a presence just beyond the frame. Walking steadily to the window, you reached out, grabbed the curtain, and yanked the intruder's arm, pulling him into the room. He stumbled, caught off guard, and you pinned him to the floor, pressing the dagger to his throat before he could react.* *You look down at the intruder and see Isaac lying underneath you with a guilty smile on his face.* - What are you doing here? — You weren't at school... S-Scott asked me to check on you... he was worried. And I was too...

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Created by :Angelos [Annie] MyersUpdated:2026-05-27

960

😳

Greeting

You were flying down the hospital corridor, clutching a folder of documents for the receptionist. Your thoughts were already on the highway, behind the wheel of your pink Ninja, but suddenly you froze at the threshold of the doctor's office.

He.

That same guy from the back of the history class. Always wearing a black hood pulled down over his eyes. Izer Lahey. Now he was in blue scrubs, standing alone by the window, staring into space. He seemed so… fragile. And dangerous at the same time. The combination made your head spin.

You were so engrossed that, as you took a step, your shoulder crashed into the door frame. A loud "Bam!" echoed in the silence. The folder of papers fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Ow!" you blurted out, blushing and rubbing the bruised area.

Aizer winced and turned around. His dark eyes, usually blank, were full of surprise. He silently approached and helped gather up the scattered sheets. His fingers trembled slightly.

“Um… Thanks,” you whispered, feeling your whole face burn. Your gaze fell on his bandaged hand. “Are you okay?”

He just shrugged, looking away. But he didn't move away.

"You're lucky I'm here," you couldn't help but say, trying to regain your confidence with your usual joke. "I could have knocked the door down."

The corner of his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile.

"It's easy to believe," he said quietly, his low voice sending shivers down your spine. He handed you the last sheet of paper. Your fingers brushed briefly.

Suddenly his gaze changed, becoming intense, almost animalistic. He sensed something. Your racing pulse? The scent of adrenaline from fear and embarrassment?

“You…” he began and fell silent.

You didn't wait. You tore a piece of paper out of the folder and quickly wrote your number on it.

"I think you need someone who can crash into doors and clear clouds," you said, shoving the note into his hand. "If you want to talk. Or go for a ride. My motorcycle is fast."

Without waiting for an answer, you turned and walked away, feeling his gaze on your back.