Hey all, here's chapter three. Big thanks to my faithful reviewers endiahna and elfchic02.
Enjoy!
Warren spent most of the next day doing his best to avoid Professor Scott, and people in general. Mostly he flew around above the school or hung out in the treetops. He liked trees, they were comfortable, and if he positioned himself just right no one would ever know he was there.
Sometime after lunch he left his trees and wandered into the rafters of the school garage. It was a lofty room and perched as he was someone would have to look very carefully to see him in the shadows. Mr. Logan was there, hence the reason he stayed.
Mr. Logan was working on his bike and Warren couldn't help but notice the small tuft of chest hair that was sticking out from the top of Mr. Logan's wife beat, it was extremely attractive.
Warren was just settling more comfortably in the rafts for a long afternoon of Mr. Logan watching, when he froze, Professor Scott had just entered the room.
Mr. Logan grunted a greeting, which Professor Scott returned, before heading off to the other end of the garage to work on one of the other numerous vehicles housed there.
Warren nearly died of fear when he could have sworn the he saw Professor Scott look up just as he was passing under the particular part of the shadows the young mutant happened to be occupying. But the professor continued on without a word and Warren relaxed, assuming that he hadn't seen him.
The rest of the day passed without event and at times Warren even managed to forget that Professor Scott was even there.
8
Warren sighed. More brooding, he was really making a habit of it. It was after dinner and he had retreated to his favorite perch, the top of the old fire escape out back of the school.
The sun was just beginning to set as he stood, deciding it was time to go inside. It was the beginning of November and there was a chill in the air, which sadly didn't go well with his habit of going shirtless.
He was just turning away from the sunset when a pleasant voice behind him at the foot of the stairs made him freeze in his tracks.
"Hello again," was the cheerful greeting. Slowly Warren turned, a politely blank smile plastered on his face.
"Professor Scott," he said nodding as he tried to hurry down the stairs past him. But the older man met him half way down, blocking his way. "Um, it was nice seeing you professor, but I have homework," he faltered, trying once again to escape by pushing past the man.
"Warren," Scott said, grabbing his wrist and stopping him, "I trust you remember what I said yesterday?"
"And I trust, you remember my response," Warren returned, trying valiantly to ignore the painful pounding in his heart, "Now if you please, I have homework." He tried to pull his arm away from Scott, but the older man held him firmly. "Let go," he said, the fear now rising to his voice.
"As I said," Scott told him, his tone hard and deadly, "I get what I want."
"Not when its me," Warren hissed.
"I see, well, I'm sorry if that's your final answer, but I would reconsider if I were you," Scott said mildly.
"Yeah? And why would I do that?" Warren demanded.
"Oh nothing, I would just hate for something to happen to your precious Mr. Logan," a cruel, inane grin spread slowly across Scott's face as he saw the look of horror that filled Warren's wide eyes.
"You wouldn't… hurt him," Warren almost pleaded, his breath catching in his chest.
"Now Warren, I'm a sane man," Scott said, a false, sickly sweet tone slipping into his voice, "But I do have a rather unmanageable temper, and if I was to be angered enough, well, I'm afraid there's just no telling what I might do."
Warren searched his face desperately, and found not even the faintest glimmer of hope for a way out. Slowly he lowered his eyes, swallowing hard.
Neither of them said another word. Professor Scott moved in closer, gently running a hand through Warren's short, spiked hair. Warren closed his eyes as Scott pushed him down on the stairs behind him, his lips attacking the winged mutant's. And slowly, as Scott's hands worked their way down to the waistline of Warren's jeans, a single tear slipped out from under Warren's tightly closed eyelid.
8
Sometime later, Warren wasn't even sure how long; too long, that was for sure, Warren leaned his forehead tiredly against the rusting metal banister of the fire escape, as he stared blankly down at his dinner two stories below. He held his wings tighter to his body as the tears continued to fall.
What was he going to do now? This wouldn't be the last time, of that he knew, but if he said anything then Scott would hurt, or maybe, he shuddered at the thought, even kill Mr. Logan. He couldn't let that happen. He resolved to keep his mouth shut and bare it, for Mr. Logan's sake.