Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING GUYS, THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FICTION!

PAIRINGS: CAULSCOTT

WARNINGS: GENDERBENT CHARACTERS AND SWEARING


Opposite Ends


laws of attraction is a catch phrase used when discussing the perceived nature of bodies that have a tendency to attract, thus contradicting itself as a physics law which serve to define specific properties and can be proven with experiment to be a constant.


The first time you see Nathalie Prescott, your heart does a funny summersault in your ribcage.

It's what normal people would call love at first sight.

Except it's not.

You refuse to admit you felt something for her then. You refuse to admit you feel something for her now. So you call it 'smitten'.

You were smitten at first sight.

At that moment you had been talking to Wanda. About what, you don't remember anymore. All you knew is that your new friend was not subtly trying to flirt with you and you felt a little awkward, a little guilty. Wanda was a nice girl, even better as a friend but the thing is, that's all she would ever be.

You didn't want to hurt her feelings; you were just… not interested.

Wanda Graham was not what you were looking for.

Her big brown eyes were intently staring at you as she spoke when something over your shoulder caught her attention, making her stop mid sentence. Her expression turned sour, lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

You remember asking her what was wrong.

You remember her muttering something about 'having to deal with unpleasant little shits this early in the morning"

You remember furrowing your brow, moving your head in order to see what had your normally chill friend so riled up.

You remember your breath being knocked out of your chest metaphorically and literally.

Eyes wide as saucers, you watched the prettiest girl you had ever seen in your eighteen years of life cruising down the hallway looking every bit of pissed as she was beautiful.

A scowl was deeply set on her gentle features, long shiny brown hair moving along with her every step. The girl was wearing a red letterman jacket over a white blouse and a plaid pink skirt that ended mid thigh. Black thights and black designer boots covered her long legs that seemed to go on for miles. You briefly wondered how she could stand all those layers of clothing with the current heat while trying-and failing- to ignore how despite that you could still make out the shape of her curvy figure.

Nathalie Prescott was every boy's wet dream brought to life. Standing right there in the flesh. And just like every wet dream she was just as unattainable. With her expensive clothes, the apparently confident stride she had as if she owned Blackwell, the cold expression… To dub her as the resident Ice Queen would be an understatement.

She was the popular girl.

You were the loser hipster boy.

Those were the first words that registered your mind on your first encounter, ignorant of the fact that with time, those would not be the only factors separating you and Nathalie; that standing on different ends of the social ladder would be the least aggravating of them. That it certainly would be the least of your problems.

In that instant you didn't know that.

You hadn't even noticed you were still gaping at her acting like a meathead and totally out of character-probably looking pretty brain dead too-until she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

There were a million other people in that hallway, others more interesting than you.

Among the chaos, she somehow noticed you.

Dumbfounded, you wondered why she would-

Blue misty eyes zeroed in on yours.

That was when the illusion was shattered.

Because while she initially came off as cold and calculating, looking into her eyes during that moment you could see it. Glazed glaring irises, staring but not quite staring. Lost, hazed. Raw anger. Raw feeling.

Insane was the word your mind provided to describe what she looked like.

It chilled you to the bones.

The knowledge that the Ice Queen you first thought about did not exist.

It was just a front.

When you actually took a moment to actually analyze her, it was so obvious.

She was unstable.

It only took you that fraction of a second to know that Nathalie Prescott was trouble.

You blinked, swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

The scowling eyes flew to your throat, following the movement. You didn't have time to wonder what the fuck was going on before her eyes quickly returned to your face, a sneer transforming her face into a horrible mask.

Face alight with disgust and rage she spat at you "The FUCK are you looking at, bitch?!"

You wanted to say so many things right then.

You couldn't even slip a reply past your lips.

The girl kept on walking and with the way she reacted you shouldn't have been surprised when she bumped shoulders with you, sending you crashing into the lockers behind you.

She chuckled unattractively, amused at your expense and went on her merry way.

You rubbed your shoulder, trying to make sense of what just happened and WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS HER PROBLEM.

Okay, maybe you had been staring but that was just a slippage of sanity! She didn't have to stop in the middle of the bloody hallway to glare right back at you.

You shook your head. So early in the year and you already were making enemies.

"Charming isn't she?" Wanda's voice broke you out of your reverie.

You had completely forgotten about her.

"Gee, if you think pushing people against lockers is charming" you grimaced "Who was she, anyway? What crawled up her ass and died?"

"That was Nathalie Prescott. She thinks she's hot shit just because her mommy practically owns Arcadia Bay"

The mention of the infamous surname made you immediately frown. You should have guessed.

"She literally can't stand anyone unless you're in the Vortex Club. To be honest, I think her only friend is Victor" continued Wanda without missing a beat.

"They do say feathers of the same bird flock together"

Well if they were buddies that would certainly explain lots of things.

To even think that for even one second you were kind of struck by her.

"What a shame-" you cut your own sentence. You were about to say something really stupid.

You glanced nervously at Wanda, hoping she hadn't noticed.

Brown sad eyes were studying your face cautiously.

She had noticed.

Just like she had noticed the way you stared at Nathalie before.

Your friend bit her lip, nodding to herself "She's really pretty, huh?"

You felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You wanted to apologize for being a jerk. You wanted to say you were sorry. You wanted to excuse yourself.

You did none of those things.

"Yes, she is" you said instead, a little sad, a little guilty.

Wanda Graham could've been the girl of your dreams.

Sadly, she wasn't.

What a shame someone like her has to be so gorgeous.

The sentence that was never said out loud…

That was your first encounter with the troubled Prescott.


You stared in disbelief at the crumpled piece of paper in your hand, clearly torn from a notebook.

You had been staring at it for the last ten minutes.

You still couldn't figure out the meaning of it.

Or maybe you just didn't want to.

All over the page, in incredibly messy scrawling, was written one word over and over: Freckles.

You read it again, to be sure and yes, it was definitely freckles.

Shaking your head, you turned the paper in your hand to see if there was something on the back too.

There were two sentences.

Freckles are fucking gross.

That was the first one.

The second one was crossed out.

Freckles are fucking cute.

Alright, you thought, alright.

Perfectly normal.

As far as you were concerned, out of all the students in Blackwell Academy you were the only one with actual freckles.

You didn't know how you felt, then.

Because that paper was thrown away-quite rudely and on the floor-by a certain crazed girl two hours ago and you, being a responsible, caring member of society had, of course, grabbed it.

To your credit your original intention had been to put the trash in its rightful place. If somewhere along the way the goal had changed, well, it wasn't your fault. Blame your curiosity.

Your out of place curiosity for dangerous things.

This ended up leading to you, confused and at a loss of rational thoughts, staring blankly at a note you were never supposed to find.

Your hands were sweaty.

In your head, you made a list of the pros and cons of what you were planning to do.

With a sudden rush of recklessness you grabbed a pen and started to write a reply under the crossed line, hands shaking, and heart beating loudly.

The next day, you casually left the piece of paper in front of her locker.

Many of your friends kept pointing out throughout the entire day that Nathalie Prescott was giving you creepy glares.

You told them they were imagining things.


She backed you up against a wall.

Glancing around nervously you noticed how conveniently there was not a single soul in sight.

Just your luck.

You were fighting. Again.

Somehow the both of you had made a habit out of discussing over petty things. You had no idea how it started, you only knew Nathalie had a penchant of stirring fights with you on a daily basis, ever since the moment you had replied to her comments on that stupid note.

You regretted it.

Now, here you were in the worst possible scenario with no one around to save you, Nathalie's sneering face right in your personal space, adding the fact that you were not exactly the tallest guy and she had to be wearing fucking boots. You were breathing the same air and that was not okay.

You bit your lip like you always did whenever you were nervous, trying to think of ways to escape. Nathalie's blue stormy orbs fell to a zone that was definitely not where your eyes were and that was when it happened.

You didn't have time to do absolutely nothing when out of nowhere her mouth crashed violently against yours swallowing any protest. You completely froze on the spot, staring wide eyed at her closed eyes and furrowed brow as she pressed harder. Her lips were soft but demanding and rough at the same time. For some fucked up reason that turned you on.

A tongue traced your bottom lip and you were still frozen, unable to do anything but freak out, wondering how on earth this could be happening. Nathalie got impatient and just as rough as her kiss, she bit you. A gasp escaped you along with your breath. It fucking hurt.

Holy fuck.

Taking advantage of the slip, she pushed her tongue past your lips, mapping every corner of your mouth and you finally snapped out of the stupor you were stuck in. You closed your eyes, getting your body and limbs to react, kissing her back with a passion you never knew you had. Hands settled on Nathalie's slim waist. You felt fingers entangling in your hair. Groans and moans filled the air as your tongues danced with each other.

It was messy, spontaneous and everything you had ever thought you wanted in life.

Until it was not.

It ended just as quick as it started.

Your hands dug in maybe a bit too tightly and Nathalie immediately tensed up, all movement ceasing. The next thing you knew, you were being slapped hard across the face. Your eyes burnt with unshed tears, your left cheek throbbed.

Confused, you reached up a trembling hand, touching the abused skin.

Then you felt it. The scorching anger bubbling up to the surface, you turned murderous blue eyes to glare at the unpredictable girl. In your confused trance you hadn't noticed she had moved, now standing a few feet away from you. Her hands curled in fists, she was staring at you in something akin to horror, as if she couldn't believe what had happened. But that only lasted a second for her expression went back to her default pissed off face quickly.

You didn't care. You were so tired of dealing with her shit and her constant mood swings.

She hissed at you, all crude words, totally not cute and whatever crap you were thinking while you kissed.

You yelled at her, venting all your contained emotions, still reeling at that goddamned lame excuse of a kiss.

She yelled right back and you hated her so much in that moment.

Frustration and irritation were taking a toll on you.

When the sound of slapping overlapped the screaming you two were doing, you didn't know what had caused it.

The palm of your hand stung.

Nathalie's mouth was hanging open and you would have laughed if it hadn't been for the reddening handprint on her right cheek that matched yours.

You didn't have much time to dwell on what you had done out of spite, since the girl's surprise didn't last long.

She scratched you, blunt nails clawing at the same place her hand had been a couple of minutes ago.

This time, you didn't do anything. You knew you deserved it.

You fucking slapped a girl.

Granted she slapped you to, but that didn't begin to justify you.

You felt like shit.

Hope you feel proud of yourself, Max.

Nathalie looked insane. Long bangs fell in front of her face, lips red and swollen from the previous making out session, clothes ruffled and that ugly red mark adorning her pale face. You reckoned you must have looked exactly the same, maybe more fucked up, with three long gashes on one side of your face and a busted lip.

You barely registered her saying something along the lines of "you're bleeding".

You barely registered saying "I know" nodding.

She nodded too, clouded eyes with unreadable emotions.

The strangest thing happened then.

You both started laughing. Cackling like maniacs, hands on your knees, tears sliding down your faces, you laughed and laughed and laughed.

It wasn't a bad sound.

Her laugh, the real one, sounded melodic and sweet, a thing you had never heard before. Not even when she was with the Vortex Club.

And she had dimples.

You were a sucker for dimples.

Eventually the laughs died down until you were gasping for air to fill your lungs.

You risked a timid glance towards the Prescott, afraid you somehow would disrupt the tranquility between you two.

She was looking back.

Hazy eyes seemed sad and lonely. She stretched out a hand. You let her cup your cheek. She was acting completely out of character, almost tender and caring. But so were you.

Gently, her lips touched the bleeding scratches.

Your heart stopped.

Sadly, just as quick as it started, it ended. Nathalie backed off and before you could do or say anything she took off in the opposite direction, not even looking back once.

More confused than ever, you stood there, drilling holes in the space she occupied. Thinking how fucking strange your life was. About how you wished you had taken a picture of her just even once.

Thinking that you were definitely on separate ends of the spectrum. Black and white. Warm and cold.

How come you were so similar, then?


You tried not to think about the way she reacted so alarmed when you had been-

No, you wouldn't think about it.

You wouldn't think about either how you realized while you touched her.

Nathalie Prescott was more bones than flesh.

You wouldn't think about the scars you briefly saw on her wrists.

You wouldn't think about how you hadn't realized any of this until hours later.


Kyle asked you what had happened to your face.

You smiled, showing your teeth at the religious boy and said "Oh, this? I was playing with a cat and the little thing attacked me. Crazy, huh?"

Kyle, innocent and naïve Kyle believed you.

Wanda did not. But she didn't push too much.

Danny made fun of you every time he saw you, asking if the chick had been worth it.

He was the closest one to the truth.


You knew it wouldn't be the last time.

That was only the start.

Sitting on top of your bead, reading through physics books, you thought about the laws of attraction and how full of bullshit they were.


"The soul attracts that which it secretly harbors, that which it loves, and also that which it fears."

-James Allen


A/N: HEYYY! Hope you enyojed and please leave reviews and comments so I can improve my writing 3 (tbh I think I messed up with this one but I blame the lack of inspiratin lately :/)