KORE

I was frozen in place for several seconds, processing several emotions at once. Confusion, anger, fear, humiliation, excitement, curiosity. None of them stuck, they turned into more of a congealed mess of nausea that sat in my stomach like a stone.

I quickly rushed off the stage, trying not to hyperventilate. Why was he here? How long had he been here? Had he actually recognized me? I grabbed my guitar, intending to slip out a back exit or something, and turned to bolt out of the side stage. I was met with at first what I thought was a wall, it sure felt like stone, but the wall had arms that caught me when I'd stumbled backwards.

"Woah- Are you alright?"

The voice was so smooth and so clear, even over the chattering and the next band setting up. I looked up at him dazed, still frozen in shock.

"E-Edward?" I blinked up at him like a moron, his cold hands still on my waist, my fingertips braced against his solid, broad chest. I kept forgetting how tall he was, this close I needed to crane my neck to see his face.

He took his hands off my waist, seeming frozen for the same amount of time I was. But he cleared his throat.

"I didn't mean to startle you, I only wanted to complement your performance. I didn't realize you were a musician." He nodded to my guitar, and I looked down, feeling myself turn red.

"It's not...generally something I brag about, it's just a hobby." I mumbled, but he seemed to hear me, chuckling.

"I also didn't know you were a fan of Muse. You have excellent taste."

I looked up at him again, re-shouldering my guitar.

"You're into Muse?" I guess I shouldn't be terribly shocked, I'd seen his Spotify, he seemed to be into just about everything.

"Oh of course, they changed the early 2000's." He looked happy, pleased, his eyes light like butterscotch as they met mine.

"Um...may I buy you a drink?"

I almost staggered. Why me!?

"U-um. Yeah, sure, ok.." I agreed a little too enthusiastically, gripping the strap of my guitar case tightly.

He lit up a little bit, letting me past to head to the small wooden bar. I felt like I had whiplash, maybe I did, I was desperately trying to find something to talk about as we both took a couple stools, setting my guitar against the bar underneath me.

He looked to me then, and I realized he was asking what I wanted to drink. I jolted a little bit and snapped my head to the board, scrolling the drinks quickly.

"Um, Brandy Old Fashioned? With orange?" He looked surprised, what I couldn't like brandy? He nodded at the bartender, catching their attention quickly, I wasn't surprised.

"Two Brandy Old Fashioned's, one with orange." The bartender nodded quickly, glancing between us with what looked like bewilderment. I met them, and shrugged slightly, I was as confused as he was.

I noticed what Edward was wearing suddenly, I was used to him in very light colors, white, light grey, sand, taupe, khaki, etc. But tonight he wore a slick black blazer, open in the front, a cream crew neck sweater underneath. Black jeans and dark patent shoes. It was...new. The dark colors offset the coloring in his hair and skin. The neon lights reflected off his eyes and his face. He seemed even more mythical now, almost hypnotic so close. My jaw tensed slightly as the research I'd done crossed my mind again.

"So, what are you doing out here? I thought you were still up camping with Emmet since you haven't been back in class." I finally spoke up, noting the bartender set down our drinks. I grabbed mine, slowly using the cocktail straw to mix in my orange slice, taking a sip.

I watched him stare at his own thoughtfully, holding his cocktail pick, turning the maraschino cherries in the light.

"We got back this evening. I'm glad to see you alive and not kidnapped." He chuckled at me, sitting back.

"I told you I'd do my best." I sniffed, still peeved about that, eating the cherries off of my own pick. Sliding them off using their stems and eating them like that. He seemed to be watching the action out of the corner of my eye, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"That you did." I watched him still out of the corner of my eye as he seemed to take a gulp of his own drink. But noticed a slight pale blur that moved in the direction of the potted plant beside him by the wall. I moved to face him, eyes flicking to the plant and noting that there was now ice cubes sitting on top of the dirt. I didn't say anything, but it added on to my list of evidence that only seemed to be getting heavier in the back of my head.

"But still, drinking on a school night?"

"Hey, you offered to buy it."

"True, how long have you been playing? You seem pretty skilled."

I blinked at the change in conversation, but went with it.

"Um, when I was like, five, my Mom was walking with me and we saw a busquer, playing guitar on the sidewalk looking for tips. She saw me, uh,...stim, happily and noticed how I seemed to like the music. It relaxed me, even in a crowd. The next day I had a kid sized guitar and was put in lessons." I laughed a little, my mom had jumped on anything and everything that seemed to soothe me as a kid after my diagnosis. I was glad she never restricted my stimming.

"...stim?" He questioned, but gently, having noticed my hesitance on the word.

"...Um, I'm Autistic." I said it quietly, it was not something I was ashamed of, but not something I was terribly fond of talking about or explaining. I sat back and squared my shoulders and took another gulp of my drink, waiting for the onslaught of typical neurotypical questions I usually received after that admission.

"Oh, I see, So you've been playing since you were a child, are you into any other instruments?"

I was caught off guard a little, but felt a bit of warmth shoot through my chest as he just seemed to gloss over it.

"Um, piano, but not well, I played clarinet in high school?" I shrugged, I'd never been terribly interested in anything other than guitar. "I wanted to learn the violin, but we couldn't afford it. But you didn't answer my first question, this uh, doesn't seem like your vibe." I motioned to the room around us, and he smiled slightly.

"I like to come to Open Mics, underground shows, hear what's new. Some of the greatest bands began in places like this." He looked up at me again. His shoulders were set, and he was still leaning back from me, just like he did in class. He did have a point, I just wished that he hadn't come tonight.

"That's true, The Sex Pistols," I noted, the english punk scene had been a wild one. He seemed surprised again, and I was getting annoyed. But the feeling faded when I looked at his face, something like almost, wonder, in his eyes. I wasn't used to being so good at reading someone, or at least feeling this confident about my assessments. And it threw me a little, but I figured I could go with my gut and see where it led.

"What exactly is your major?" My voice startled even me, so did the force of my question. He blinked.

"Neuroscience, Minoring in Biochemistry."

Christ, he was smart too.

"Really? What career are you looking into?"

"Neuropsychology." He said it with a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, I got that distinct gaslight-y feeling again, but decided to ignore it. "You're looking to become a Forensic Pathologist, correct? What brought you to that career path?"

"Well to start with, fuck cops." My answer was easy, I'd known my path since I was a kid. "I want to be able to bring justice in an unbiased, testable way. If I can help keep the innocent out of prison and convict the actual monsters, I want to be able to do it." I turned to him, I think he was still stuck on 'fuck cops.'

Blinking at me with a shocked but amused smile. He looked like he struggled for a second, then lifted his half empty glass, I hesitantly tapped mine to his with a clink. "To providing actual justice. And...urm, fuck cops." He didn't seem to struggle with the sentiment, but the word 'fuck'. I giggled at him.

"You don't curse much huh?"

"I do not, but, there isn't a much better way to say that." He laughed, seeming sheepish. It was easy to forget he might be a monster when he was being...cute.

I bit my lip and kicked my feet in my barstool, thinking over my next question, wondering if it would piss him off.

"So, what exactly happened, that first day in class? You seem totally cordial now, but that day you were looking at me like I was the creature from "Splice"." I furrowed my brow at him, and he froze up for a moment, expression becoming a little annoyed.

"I'm serious Edward, you keep going back and forth with your moods so hard I'm getting whiplash here. I may be autistic but these mixed signals seem odd even to me. Save my life one hour, and the next hour you hate me, and then the next month you don't even acknowledge me, and now...you're driving me home and buying me drinks."

I tried outlining it all for him, wondering if laying it all out would help him understand why I was so lost when it came to him.

"I just want some answers, you know?" He kept quiet, staring into his drink for a moment, before looking up at me and rolling his eyes back with a sigh.

"...Yes, no, to get to the other side, 1.772453-"

"Jesus dude I don't care about the square root of Pi." I glared at him, grimacing, resisting the urge to kick his leg under the bar.

"...You knew that?"

"You do realize I'm trying to get into Medical school, right? I'm not an idiot."

He pursed his lips, and then sighed, looking irritated and ashamed. "It wasn't you, really. I was annoyed at something else, you had the unfortunate luck of being sat next to me when I thought I would be sitting alone."

I could actually understand that, but squinted my eyes at him regardless, taking another sip.

"Alright, fair enough. I got other questions, if we're gonna be friends." I looked up at him firmly, he didn't look like a republican, but he was rich and white.

"Alright, shoot." He guarded his own expression, and I sat straighter.

"Pro-life or Pro-choice?"

"Pro-choice."

Aight.

"Are you a feminist?"

"If I wasn't, Alice would kill me."

"Do Black Lives Matter?"

"Every second of every day, "fuck cops" after all. The justice system needs to be reformed from the ground up."

"Weed?"

"Legalize it nationally."

"LGBTQ?"

He paused a moment, considering his answer.

"I don't know. I believe currently, I am cisgender and heterosexual. But I advocate for trans lives and equality. Conversion therapy is absolutely diobolical."

"...Coke or Pepsi?"

"...Coke." I squinted, I liked Pepsi.

But I shrugged, pleased and impressed with his answers.

"Okay pretty boy, you're chill." He looked at me and raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

"'Pretty boy'?" He questioned.

"Yeah, you look like you came out of a Calvin Klien commercial. And don't pull that "I just don't know it" shit, I don't believe it." I took another swig, and he blinked in shock, then acceptance.

"Alright, I'll...take it."

I finished my drink then, looking up at him as I dug in my wallet to put a tip on the bar, he looked like he wanted to stop me, but I raised my eyebrows at him.

"You bought, I tip." He didn't argue then, smiling in exasperation.

"But I better get home, it is a "school night" after all...will I see you in school tomorrow?"

"Most likely, would, you like me to walk you to your Uber?" He asked it quietly, and I looked up.

"...Sure." I ordered it and it came within two minutes, Edward hovering by my side, footsteps silent compared to my clomping boots.

"See you tomorrow then, it was..nice, talking to you." I couldn't understand why that wasn't a lie. But it wasn't. He gave me a heartbreakingly handsome crooked grin then.

"Goodnight Miss Irving. Get home safe."

He watched carefully as I got into the Subaru. I looked back to him as we drove away, but he was already gone.