Miles trudged over to his locker, looking down at the box at his feet as he approached it. His heart sank with guess, but his mind cluttered with confusion as he opened it. Typical. He thought to himself, biting his lip to stop it from quivering. He could barely look at all the little trinkets and photos in the box without wanting to scream. He threw the box into his locker, pictures, magnets and little origami figures he had previously made for Tristan spilling out as he slammed the locker door and leaned against it.
Miles's eyes immediately snapped over to Tristan's locker, and the sight nearly knocked him clean off his feet. His dark brown hair defined each and every feature of him more. His eyes looked like ice, and the reds in his plush lips were brought out more. Those plush lips that Miles wished could be his again.. Miles shook his head, attempting to snap out of it. He was dressed in all black, with none other than a red jacket Miles fondly remembered he had left at Tristan's house.
His heart wrenched when Tristan spun around, but that's when he realized he was staring. He peeked around Tristan only to see someone new. It didn't matter who the hell he was, Tristan's hands were flying all over on him. Miles was ready to pounce in and beat the crap out of him, but he was fully aware that if he did, Tristan would only despise him more. Miles clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms.
No.
"Awe, come on... we can skip out on chemistry. It's not like we have any trouble with it." Tristan hissed the last part, just loud enough for Miles to hear over the loud hum of feet moving and short hallway conversations. His stomach contorted as his heart ached. The new kid (or predetermined douchebag, by Miles) placed a longing kiss on Tristan's lips, which he returned aggressively, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt. Miles scoffed, disgusted. He shoved his chem textbook into his bag before rushing off to the classroom.
Miles glared at the empty seat beside him, sighing heavily. Why was he even hoping for him to show up? He sighed, tapping his pen against his paper, creating small red dots. He glanced up quickly at the clock, realizing chem was nearly over, before back down at the doorway, where his eyes met with Tristan's. Tristan stared him down from squinting eyes, adjusting his bag to show a forming bruise on his neck. He glided across the room, sitting down next to Miles without saying a word. All he did was cast him a small, shit-eating smirk.
"What the hell are you doing?" Miles questioned, even though he already knew the answer damn well.
"Living my life. Is there a problem, Hollingsworth?" Tristan gave a cocky pout.
Miles glared at him for a second before looking down. That's what he wanted, for Tristan to just live his life without him. But... That evil look in Tristan's eyes, the flames under the ice, was telling him differently. "No. None at all." Miles answered in an unintentionally dark tone, before giving him a weak grin.
