Elizabeta sees the boy a lot sooner than she expected, thank the good Lord above. Quite a sight indeed.

She's not sure if she could forget his face if she tried, honestly. Between planning outfits and feigning innocence with her parents, she couldn't stop thinking about him. What he said about not being a follower, the stone-cold stare he gave Natalia, he had it all written down.

He's writing again the next time she sees the kid. The "stop being a follower" kid. The "wow, that was pretty shitty of you," kid. The "Not only am I well read, I have the voice and face of sex god and I'm here to shun you," kid.

Ew. Cross out last part. Gross, Eli, what are you, 13?

Elizabeta keeps the notebook near herself at all times, of course, but she became extra protective of it ever since Mystery Boy became a hot topic. She didn't need some nerd knowing how much she appreciated the curvature of the boy's nose or his shady-drug-dealer style. Or worse. What if Natalia got to it?

Wait, why the fuck does she care what Natalia thinks?

He's sitting at a table during lunch hour again.

Taking a deep breath, Eli smiles a small, coy smile at the boy and barely waves. The boy waves back, and gestures for Elizabeta to join him to eat. The boy gives her the most genuine grin.

Goodness. Elizabeta needs a name, stat.

She looks around the cafeteria as if she's a deer about to cross a busy highway. No Natalia, Bella, or Michelle in sight. She's safe, for now. She could spare a few seconds and hang out with her mystery guy.

"Hey, you." He says, in the most charming voice.

"Hey, yourself." Elizabeta strains her voice so it wouldn't squeak.

"So, you took my advice? Got rid of those harpies?" Mystery Boy asks.

"Uh, working on it. It's not easy to just, you know, erase friendships like that." Elizabeta thinks back to Natalia's kiss, the heat she felt. She doesn't want to admit it to her strange new friend but she doesn't want to give that up for the world.

"Friendships? Listen: Abyssus abyssum invocat. Do you know what that means?"

"...No."

"It means the abyss, or Hell, invokes the abyss. No good is going to come from you hanging around those girls, nor their little cronies."

"Hey!"

"See, here come the cronies." The boy sighs. He pointed and Elizabeta followed his finger. Alfred and Vladamir were barreling towards their table, the Golden Trio hot on their trail.

"Elizabeta!" Natalia shouts. "What are you doing over there?!"

"Hey there, sweetheart," Alfred says towards the mystery boy with a hand slamming on the table.

"What did your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving up to New York?" Alfred inquires tauntingly. The boy's face stays stoic and tight, even as Vlad starts to poke his cheeks.

"My buddy Alfred just asked you–"

Poke. Poke. Poke.

"—a question."

"Hey, Vlad, doesn't this cafeteria have a "no fags allowed" rule?"

"Guys, cut it out." Elizabeta says through clenched teeth. Her hands are balled into fists and she can feel the heat rising in her face. She's so close to screaming them both into alternate dimensions she can barely breathe.

The boy puts up a hand on Elizabeta's shoulder. The hand seems to absorb all of Elizabeta's fury, and she's gushing again over the boy's stupidly pretty face. Elizabeta admires him so much. So calm, clearly a genuinely great guy. In no way an instigator. She could use some balance like that in her life.

"They seem to have an open policy for assholes, though." The boy says, not breaking eye contact with Alfred. There's a monosyllabic 'Oooooh! ' heard from Michelle's direction. The tension only rises.

Okay, he's definitely an instigator. Note to self, Eli. Stop romanticizing strangers.

Alfred huffs. "Hold his arms," he growls. Vlad springs into action and obeys Alfred's order. Elizabeta reels from the swiftness of it, and nearly screeches when Alfred puts his fist up to wail on Mystery Boy.

Elizabeta closes her eyes and prepares for the worst, and hears a lunch tray clattering. She opens her eyes again to see Mystery Boy decking not one, but both guys in the face with his own lunch tray.

Holy shit, Elizabeta thinks.

"Holy shit," Elizabeta says.

Michelle, Natalia, and Bella repeat the same sentiment in unison.

"""Holy shit,"""

A crowd starts to gather around the table, a rather motley crew of scattered students and teachers. "He's so fast!" They're shouting.

But it couldn't be unfolding any slower for Elizabeta. In fact, time seems to still for Elizabeta.

She put a hand to her chest and presses down, pushes the breath she's been holding in her chest out. "Whoa," she barely says.

There's something about the whole ordeal. Elizabeta can't name it exactly, but something's there. The way the boy seemed to be able to wound Vlad so effortlessly, maybe? The satisfying smacking sound that could be nothing less than a lunch-tray-induced-concussion waiting to happen? She can't quite pin it down.

But, oh, how she wants this kid to pin her down, the brute strength exerted in one punch alone is enough to bring Elizabeta to her knees, she's decided.

Sure, Elizabeta hates Alfred and Vlad, but not enough to get hot and bothered from watching them in harm's way. No, this is 100% the guy's fault, Elizabeta's sure of it.

Why, when you see boys fight, does it look so horrible, yet…

Alfred is on the ground, hands over his face. The boy doesn't look like he's even broken a sweat, fists still clenched, a vein by his temple throbbing slightly.

…feel SO right?

I shouldn't watch this crap, that's not who I am. But with this kid...daaaaaaaaaaamn.

Something in the kid snaps and he's on top of Vlad, destroying his face with a barrage of sucker punches and loaded blows. Natalia is screaming for the faculty to do something, calling out for Vlad to 'stop being a bitch and kick his ass.' Alfred hasn't even budged since he was knocked down. Michelle is covering her own eyes, and Bella is yelling at Alfred to get up. Most of the teachers have left the cafeteria, claiming more important things to be doing, grading papers and such.

By the third time the boy has pulled back his fist, Elizabeta can see a little bit of blood on his knuckles.

Oh.

That's...nice.

Hey, Mister No-Name-Kid. So who might you be? And could you fight for me? And hey…

Natalia shoves Elizabeta on the back. She drops some of her papers, which she scurries to gather up. "Hey, dipshit!" She yells. "Call off your fucking psychotic attack dog of a boyfriend, maybe?"

Boyfriends with the kid who fucked up Vlad and Alfred. Oh, if only.

Eli, after sufficiently organizing her papers again, gets a bit closer to the scene. "That's enough," she says softly, only enough so she, the guy, and Vlad can hear.

Could you face the crowd?

Could you be seen with me and still act proud?

To Elizabeta's surprise, the kid lets up and turns to face her. Their eyes meet and Eli melts. She can see the wrath seep out of his gaze and turn into respect, adulation even. He stands up and walks slowly up to Elizabeta, close enough for their noses to touch. Eli can feel her face flushing and involuntarily smooths the creases out of her skirt, pushes a strand of hair behind her own ear.

The boy offers his hand to Elizabeta, his bloodied, calloused hand. Fuck, that's hot.

Hey,

Would you hold my hand?

And would you carry me through No-Man's-Land?

Elizabeta takes his hand in her cautiously, feels her heart rate speed up a bit. Vlad is a panting mess on the tiled ground behind them, but Elizabeta can't be bothered. She's holding hands with creepy, drifter guy and she's fucking ecstatic.

It's fine if you don't agree,

But I would fight for you,

If you would fight for me.

"Good, you got him, hold onto him!" Natalia barks as she sends Michelle to get the nearest teacher. Elizabeta blinks rapidly and suddenly recalls that, no, she's not floating on some cloud above the world, she's still in shitty New York fucking City, surrounded by the shitheads she's been calling peers for a little over a decade.

Mrs. Kirkland finally appears, approaching the two teens holding hands after sifting through the now shrinking crowd of cowering student. Se takes one look at Mystery Boy and tuts.

"You don't have the space to start fights like this, you know, Mr. Beilschmidt," the faculty member says.

The boy, Beilschmidt, kicks Alfred one more time.

Kirkland grimaces. "...Great" She says, and grabs at the hand not holding Elizabeta's.

She drags Beilschmidt out of the cafeteria with little resistance. Elizabeta swears she sees Beilschmidt's smile only grow, but she herself hasn't felt this sad in a while. She looks down at her hand. The contact was fast, and it's stupid, sure, but it felt fucking nice, like it was meant to be or some shit.

She fades back into reality and hears the clapping around her. Full on applause. Natalia claps a hand on her shoulder and slinks the other around her waist. Elizabeta would redden more if she wasn't already as crimson as the blood on Beilschmidt's knuckles. Michelle simply utters a quick and enthusiastic "yay!," and Bella is pouting.

"Way to distract him. Vlad, Come congratulate Elizabeta. She just saved your damn life."

"That fuckin' spaz fights better than Mohammed.." Vlad coughs out before hacking out a blood-stained tooth.

"..Fuckin' A," Alfred says, finally coming to.

"C'mon, Eli, that was traumatizing as shit. Let's cut class and play croquet. Your place, you said your mom makes good pâté?"

"Yeah, of course," she lied. What the fuck is a pâté, Natalia, shut the entire fuck up, you entitled rich piece of shit.

Elizabeta looks down at the hand that held Beilschmidt's, and then down to the arm around her waist escorting her out of the area. Must be nice, she figures.