A/N: Hey guys! And welcome to the pilot of my new story Tarea. I am really excited about this story because its based on things that I have always been interested in myself. Demonology has always been an interesting topic to me, and after reading a really great Fiction called Dark Illustrations: Sketches in Blood; By Xandra. I have been wanting to write my own story, sort of in the same concept. Except I am not stealing her story! I'm am using things from it that I think are really well written and useful. And I wanted to give her credit, and thank her for writing such an awesome story! And so now my beauty's, I have my own story to write. And it begins where one might think. So please enjoy, and check out Xandras page! She's an awesome writer! And a further note: If this kind of writing or story telling may be offensive to you or your beliefs, DO NOT READ IT. And thus, that is the only warning that I bestow upon you. And if you decide to read further, it is of your own accord. Because I WARNED YOU. Plus, this is a slash type story. ( Obviously. That's literally all I write. ) C;

Tarea

Chapter One:

Thus, the dice begin rolling

" The sun swept over the sinking sky like a swift blow to the brain. Blood was seeping from the hands of the framed. It dripped like the rain that fell from the iced over terrain. All seemed quiet amongst the people. All seemed at ease above the clouds. Everything may have seemed at ease. But beneath the truth, lie a dark shadow of despair. A place for the weeping souls of the condemned. No one knew of the eyes that watched upon the people. No one knew of the body that lay past the bay. Because when the sun swept over the sinking sky, the blood seeped from the hands of the framed, that dripped like rain from an iced over terrain. The framed hands were no longer chained. For they were the ones, that always got away. For they were the ones, that always watched close at bay. "

" Aaand, lights. "

A shearing pain found itself wrapping around my cornea. I covered my blurry vision before anymore light could find a way to kill my eye cells.

Mr. Bomburdy stood in front of the class and waited for everyone to be quiet. As usual.

" Now, I realize that it is almost time for the end term exams. But as 11th grade students, I expect you to be able to finish reading this book before exam week. "

I could hear the rest if the class groaning in un-interest and hate for getting this language arts teacher.

I on the other hand, didn't have much of a problem with it. I happened to like poems. In fact, writing them was part of my many hobbies.

For a normal teenage boy, it may seem a bit awkward to write poems, but lucky for me I'm not normal. And I say that literally.

I am not normal because I'm not like everyone else. And when I say this, I don't mean that I'm allergic to gluten or anything. And I'm not a perfectionist either. I'm more of a socially awkward teen if anything else. Which isn't a disease. It's just something that I haven't handled myself just quite yet. I really do need to get over it. I need to start talking to more people. But it's hard. I don't really like talking much. That's obviously why I'm socially awkward. But back to the main point. I'm am not normal because I have a 'special ability'. That being of one that is not typically healthy for a young boy such as myself. I can see orbs. Or dumbly put, ghosts. I have had this ability since I was a child, and I didn't learn of how rare my powers really were until I googled it. ( Hey, Internet is the worlds everything now. Don't blame me. Even though this may seem like the most cliche situation ever. )

" And as a result of that moaning, I'm turning this into a partner project. "

More groans filled the classroom. And I was one of them this time.

Just my luck. Maybe I will get paired with some lazy slacker who will just let me do all the work so that we both get good grades. I usually take the lead on poem related things anyways. But now it was a little different. Our book was based of off a murder, and it started off with a poem at every chapter. Which not only did I think it was unique, but I might even steal that idea if I ever decide to write my own book. I might even get lucky and not get a partner at all. Considering the following: I'm socially awkward, and I am usually caught talking to " air " as my dimwitted fellow students put it.

" And because I don't want to ruin your lives completely, I will let you pick your own partners. "

It felt as if someone had just placed a huge cake in front of each individual person. Right after that, I heard girls squealing and guys high five-ing each other. While I sat alone in my seat, hoping to god that the teacher wouldn't notice that I was alone. I didn't mind working alone. I actually felt better when I did. But I knew that it wouldn't stay this way, since it was now a partner project. If only I was invisible like Casper the Ghost. Even if that meant that my life wouldn't be as nearly as interesting as it was now.

Ah but, it seems as of god and all his holy graciousness hates me. Either that, or I'm just really unlucky.

" Ah, Cameron. Why don't you come over here and work with Taylor? "

The instant I heard my name, I slumped in my chair. And out of all people, Mr. Bomburdy had to pick Cameron. No doubt he was aesthetically good looking. But unfortunate for him, I wasn't interested in that sort of thing. Not to mention that I'm a guy. And I have heard my fair share of the word " Fag " this year from other students making fun of each other for their sexuality preferences. And also on the other hand, apparently I was " girly " and some guys were caught staring at my ass when I walked down the hall. Whatever. I could care less.

He just stood up and set his books down, sending me a few glances now and again. I wanted to ask him why he kept staring at me but, I felt like it would have embarrassed us both. Even in the slightest way.

" So, you like books? " I finally heard him say. I wanted to laugh at him so hard for his lack in social skills but then I remembered; I'm no one to talk.

I have about as many social skills as a rock. You can talk and talk and talk and all I do is listen and nod my head. Maybe I'm more like a vegetable. Or a baby.

As I nod, I see a smirk spread across his face. And I try to ignore it, but he keeps staring into my eye sockets. And did I mention he has really pretty eyes? Well, he does. They are a nice sea grass green. And they look pretty enough to scoop of and rub all over your face. ( Granted, that sounded wrong. ) While on the other hand, my eyes were a pale icy blue. They were so pale, that it almost looked as if my entire eye consisted of just my retina.

Note: Another reason why people avoid me.

No one wants to be friends with the creepy grim reaper kid.

I'm almost on the edge of my seat now, trying to lean away from his gaze. It was more uncomfortable then I thought it would be. But before I knew it, I was facing straight back at him, staring into his eyes to see what he would do. Aaand, nothing. Darn.

" What? " I barely say in a low voice. I doubt he can hear me, but I'll do anything to get him to stop looking at me.

" So you do have a voice. I was beginning to wonder if you could talk at all. "

His smirk grew wider when he saw me role my eyes. But I was a little pleased that I had started the conversation instead of the other way around. Thats social points for me, I guess?

" I have a voice. I just don't like talking that much. "

He nods and places his chin on his palm, not leaving my eyes for a second.

I had no clue why he was staring at me so intensely, but it was beginning to creep me out.

" Could you maybe, not stare into my soul? "

I tried to say with a little bit of sarcasm and confidence. I can tell you one thing. It lacked in confidence.

He just laughed a little before continuing to watch me.

" And what if I like looking at you? " I could hear his slyness ease its way into that cheesy sentence. And I wasn't convinced.

His idea of flirting, and my idea of flirting are in two completely different galaxy's. Where his are probably full of masturbating jokes, and images of girls with bigger " better " boobs, mine was more on the side of a maturity level so high, he couldn't get there with a space rocket. But not only that, my mind is always working on poems. I don't have time for stupid Romcoms.

" Look, I know where your trying to go with this. And number one, I'm not a girl. And even if I was, I would probably be a small pubescent girl with a chest smaller than your IQ. And two, I'm not interested in relationships anyways. This is language arts, not chemistry. " I was surprised at how much venom I had stabbed into that sentence. I was never usually this angry. But for some reason, the idea of having him flirt with me set my teeth on edge. Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm not a homophobic. So if that's how his boat sails, then that's fine. But I WILL not hesitate to destroy his little ship of destinies, like the Kraken from Pirates of the Caribbean.

As my words sunk in slowly, I could see his smirk disappear. Instead, it was replaced with a not very convincing glare. I have never really been scared of anyone before. And it wasn't going to start with a guy who could basically be my younger brother. In maturity wise anyways. He was definitely bigger than me. And a tad more muscular. I guess it helps being on the basketball team. Or in any sport at all. No wonder I'm skinny enough to get blown away with the wind.

I'm only exaggerating though. I'm actually not THAT skinny. And I have a cute face, as my mother and younger sister put it. And I usually have a beanie on my head, but today I just let my hair run wild. Since I don't have a relationship, I don't need to worry about looks. Nor do I want to. My hair may be a brown wavy mess, but I liked it that way. I especially liked how one side of my face was covered by my awesome hair. Sorta like I was a mysterious hero of some cheesy story that is going to throw itself together, and name it "Taylor's life as a pubescent ghost boy." It's classy. Has a nice ring to it.

Like I said before, I have icy blue eyes that scare the living, well, life out of people that I haven't gotten a lot of compliments on. Surprisingly. And I have an ear piercing with a jade stud. I wanted gages but, my sister said that I would look too suicidal. And beyond all that, apparently I have a fuck worthy looking ass. And thighs that look " good enough for grinding. " I don't even...what?

My attention was drawn back to class when I felt a small paper jab against my arm. I looked down to see Cameron's fingers pressed against a paper, while he continuously poked me with it. I just looked at him, and he nodded towards the note.

So to make him feel better, I picked it up and began unwrapping it, to find a messily scrawled note on the inside saying,

Meet me behind the gym after school. I wanna talk to you.

- Cam

But instead of obliging like any normal person would, I wrote back and instantly shoved it at him. And before I knew it, we had a war of passing school notes. And here's our whole conversation.

Why do you want to talk to me after school? Can't you just say whatever you need to right now?

- Taylor

I would Tay, but I might get into trouble. I already have 2 referrals for talking out in class.

- Cam

Okay one, did you just call me Tay? Um don't ever do that again. And two, why would you get into

trouble? The teacher thinks everyone is talking about the book we are supposed to read, which by the way, I can do alone. I would actually prefer it.

- Taylor

Tay c'mon. Please just meet me after school.

- Cam

You don't listen when people talk, do you?

- Taylor

Well, it's a good thing we are writing then ;)

- Cam

I can already tell that I'm going to hate you.

- Taylor

Whatever you say Mr. Idonttalktoanyonebecauseimsociallyawkward.

- Cam

Okay, that wasn't even clever.

- Taylor

How about I get you a meat stick to make up for it?

- Cam

I hate you.

- Taylor

So is that a yes then?

- Cam

Fine you persistent little-

BOTH OF YOU WILL REPORT TO DETENTION TOMORROW AFTER SCHOOL. I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO GIVE YOU DETENTION FOR ACTING LIKE 2nd GRADERS. NO PASSING NOTES IN MY CLASS.

Whoops. Sorry Mr. Bomburdy.

- Cam

And the funny thing was, he kept writing even after we both got detention. But on the bright side, detention was scheduled tomorrow instead of today. Today was the day that I had to catch up on my favorite show Dexter. But to bad I have to meet with that idiot before hand.

But eventually the rest of the day flew by, and I found myself sitting behind the gym. Waiting for Cameron to get there and tell me whatever he had to tell me. There was no way I was missing an episode of Dexter for him.

I slowly let my eyes slip closed as I let a sigh escape my lips. The sun felt aesthetically pleasing today, and I wanted to enjoy it before Mr. I have a huge bulge, arrived. Which by the way, I did not take note on. It's kind of hard not to notice these things. Considering that I don't have one.

I almost felt like I could have fallen asleep. If it weren't for the sudden warm contact that leaned against my shoulder, making me bolt upright.

" Woah, calm down. It's just me. " I heard Cameron's voice, and before I knew it, my eyes were planted on his.

" Are you trying to give me a heart attack? " I gripped my chest and slumped my back against the building again. Only this time, I was farther away from him.

" Why would I want to give a cute pubescent girl such as yourself, a heart ache? "

I pin him with a glare as his smirk spreads from cheek to cheek. And I could tell that he was getting a kick out of the word that he just learned like 3 hours ago from me. This boy needs a dictionary to sound out the lunch menu. Which is understandable. Because most of our school food is from foreign country's that like to cook our local pets.

I push some of my falling hair out of my eyes and glare at him slightly. He's testing my patience.

" What do you want to talk about? "

I can see his smirk fading, and it kind of worries me. If he looks this serious, I would think that he was about to confess that he had murdered someone or something.

And as I'm about to say something, I instantly freeze when I feel a hand landing softly over mine. Cameron was trying to hold my hand. He ran his fingers over my knuckles and over my finger tips before lightly pressing the padding of my prints.

I couldn't move. And it felt like I might have stopped breathing. But for some reason, I didn't care.

Before long, his mouth was against my skin. His lips trailing softly over my hand. Planting kisses in small spots, and starting over again. Soon he moved his way up my arm. Tickling the small hairs that grew their way upon my skin.

Even up my neck, I didn't move as his soft lips parted and closed over again on my skin. They seemed to work wonders over me. Because every time his mouth would touch me, I would get a little less tense. Almost as if it were some sort of soothing method.

Now upon my cheek, I could feel his breath. And even though I was afraid to be hit with the stench off school meat and expired milk, I breathed in the air anyways. Only to find that his breath smelt like strawberries. Which lucky for him, was my favorite fruit. And I couldn't bear the thought that I was actually okay with this. WHY am I letting him do this?!

I could hear him whispering something against my cheek. Something that I'm sure I would have picked up on, if my head wasn't already in the clouds. I could feel his black hair softly against my forehead as he worked his way higher.

His fingers were suddenly intertwined with mine, while his other hand reached for my hair, brushing it away from my eyes.

His lips landed on my cheek bone, just below my eye. And this time when he whispered, I could definitely hear it. And it made my spine shiver before I instantly, but hesitantly pushed him away.

" W-what are you doing? " I only managed to whisper, but I couldn't muster anything else. My face was hot and I could hear my heart beating a mile a minute. But instead, he just smiled at me. A smile that instantly sent my stomach doing cartwheels. And a smile that made my mind think of all the cheesiest lines ever. It felt like my brain was going to break.

" Kind of a delayed reaction, don't you think? " He swiped a finger over my cheek, where I instantly flinched in response.

" Eyelash. " He smirked before turning away and standing up before I could contemplate what happened.

And even before I knew it, my hand fell upon his wrist as I pulled him back. He was just as surprised as I was. But since I couldn't even begin to imagine saying " Do that again. " I just settled for,

" Wait, what did you need to tell me? "

But he only smiled again before briefly answering,

" Why don't you figure that out. "

And then he just walked to his blue Corvette. And I distinctly remembered the cute hula dancer that sat at the front of the car. And the way she swung her jazzy hips as his car backed away from our school.

And despite hating his brief answer, I was satisfied. Because now, I was even more curious then I was before.

But sadly, I had missed my episode of Dexter.

A/N: So once again, I apologize if this isn't everything you wanted, but I'm trying my absolute best to make this story flow! So please review, and I will see you guys later :)