FIVE MINUTES PRIOR

"No— I already told you, that leaking pen was merely a blip in my academic studies that took me no less than seventeen hours to get over. You're not the prank master, you're not a cunning assassin of deceit, you're an idiot," Aasim crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his back against the shoddy lockers of the math wing.

Louis, unphased by his dearest friend's deliberately cruel words, stuck his nose up at the comment.

"Prank. Master," was all he responded with, jutting his two thumbs up at himself.

"Mor-on," Aasim retorted, leaning forward at the boy.

The cacophonous collision of a fist and a locker halted all chatter from the boys. After they reactively jolted from the unexpected bang, expressions wiped and lips pursed in a moment of anticipation, watching, waiting, as Ericson's poster-boy for meatheads stomped by. Russell, fists undeniably clenched, bore a molten glare at the two as he passed them. A true 'troubled youth', if you asked Louis. The type of boy this very school was established for.

Stoic-eyed, Aasim leaned back against the locker again, his head slowly turning to watch the boy go by.

"Nutcase," he muttered, a disapproving shake of his head following it up.

"Was that supposed to scare us?" Louis questioned, his top lip curling. "Why us?"

"Not us…" he replied, jutting his chin in the direction Russell had come from.

Louis turned to see Gabe shrivelled up under his beanie, his wary eyes darting around for the threat that had stalked up before he could even unravel himself. If he didn't know any better, Louis would have sworn Russell splattered him against the lockers just by how much he retreated against it. Poor kid.

"Hey, Garcia," Louis called to him, brows furrowing. "You okay—?"

"Fuck off!" he hastily sputtered, teeth gritted as he charged past them.

Louis deadpanned.

With another shake of his head, Aasim this time let out a sigh.

"You should know by now not to expect decency from these people," he commented, jiggling his leg in anticipation. "No one here knows how to reform."

Louis' features soured.

"You tried to light Ericson's office on fire just last year," he proclaimed, folding his arms. "Your fourth attempt, may I add."

Aasim huffed.

"Fine. I had a relapse. Another blip. But at least I don't try to beat people up like eighty-percent of the halfwits here," he compromised, keeping his gaze distant.

"Well, sure," Louis shrugged. "But I wouldn't exactly call arson a good alternative."

When Louis noticed Aasim earnestly straighten up, he knew he was pretty much blatantly ignored. He could tell Aasim caught wind of an incoming Ruby from the second she turned the corner. For a moment, his friend looked utterly void of all the confidence he previously wore. Instead, he watched as Aasim was reduced to a worrisome little boy, trying his hardest not to make even the tiniest, little, embarrassing mistake in front of a girl infinitely cooler than he was.

"Go. Now," Aasim demanded of Louis, pushing himself off the lockers as he eyed an approaching Ruby.

"Hm?" Louis turned, pretending to be oblivious to what his friend had made painfully obvious. "Oh, I see. You wanna put the moves on our dearest Ruby, huh?" his lips widened into a grin.

Expectant of Louis' irritating dawdling, Aasim averted his attention back to his imbecile of a friend, his white-hot glare piercing into him as he came so incredibly close to Louis' face.

"Leave, numbskull," he spoke slowly, teeth gritted and unphased by the proximity between them. "Before I light your bunk on fire tonight."

Louis rolled his eyes.

"Ugh, fine," he conceded, unfolding his arms. "But don't be fooled, loverboy. I'm hitting Ruby up on all the juicy gossip tomorrow!"

With his awaiting dorm room in mind, Louis promptly left Aasim alone to encounter Ruby and make absolutely no moves on her whatsoever. It couldn't be anymore tragically hilarious; Aasim had drooled over Ruby ever since freshman year, yet couldn't bring himself to ask her on a date, or give her flowers, or serenade her – basically try any romantic gesture at all.

In the few short moments he was close enough to hear the beginnings of their conversation, Louis' shoulders hiked up in an almost unbearable cringing motion.

"Ruby. Hey… what's—"

"Oh, Aasim! I can't get to chit-chattin' right now, Marcia needs me in the music room—"

It was almost frustrating to see. Aasim couldn't unstick himself from acting as her maid, barely even touching the notion of becoming a romantic interest. He was always scrambling to carry her books, or do her writing assignments for her, and sometimes he even had a tissue on hand for when she sneezed.

Louis found that part kind of weird.

But he cared for her, which was the one and only reason Aasim even carried a packet of tissues to begin with. For her. It wasn't like Louis was a stranger to the concept of caring, it was the one thing that motivated people to make an impact on the world. When people cared, they put more effort into what they cared about. He knew that, maybe even more so if he cared about them a little too much… even after only four days of knowing them. Yeah, he definitely knew that.

Shit.

Louis sighed through his nose as he trudged the halls.

What a colossal fuck up.

He knew from the moment he told Clementine, right there in the cafeteria, that "I like a challenge" would come back to bite him in the ass sooner or later. It wasn't even supposed to be said – only because of a previous conversation with Marlon did it stay fresh in his mind. Perhaps a little too fresh, because out it came like a family secret at a kid's birthday when all the adults got drunk.

"Feisty at first, I'll tell ya that," Marlon relayed the encounter to him, planting himself on his bunk. "You'll like her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Louis furrowed his brows, watching Marlon shrug modestly.

"Ah, come on. You know what I mean."

Louis paused for a moment, his features contorting as he delved into thought.

"Is this because of what I said last week?"

"When?" Marlon stared at him.

"At the safe haven, when it was just us."

"Oh, right, yeah," he nodded obviously. "The challenge thing?" he reconfirmed, earning a nod from Louis. "Well, unless you meant you're the creeper type—"

"No— that's absolutely not what I meant. Nor will I ever mean," he adamantly denied.

Marlon exhaled through his nose, standing up from the bed as he slowly nodded his head.

"Look, I know what you meant, pal," he assured him, his goofy tone sobering. "Which is why… you're gonna like this one." Louis raised his brows. "Cute, bit of a wisecrack, sorta unpredictable, but I can't seem to really… get her," he continued. "But I bet you can," his grin widened. "She's a challenge. And you like a challenge."

Louis shook his head at the memory, accidentally staring down a student as they passed by. He promptly threw on a smile, hoping his immovable gaze wasn't conveyed as a threat, and quickened his pace down the hall to avoid any conflict. He definitely didn't need an encounter with one of the local meatheads.

As he curved around the corner, entering the main hallway, Louis almost choked on his tongue when the back of Clementine came into view. Jesus, what was this? Clairvoyance? One moment he's thinking about her, and the next she appears like a –

"You're really gonna speak to me like that?" Becca barked, closing in on the girl. Louis' brows twitched with uncertainty, barely noticing the small gathering around them.

Without a word, a then fidgeting Clementine also stepped up to Becca's now pointed finger.

"You know, you better watch your mou– Augh!"

"Jesus!" Louis instinctively jumped back at the movement and thud of Clementine's fist striking a now discombobulated Becca. His eyes broadened in shock as she tumbled to the ground, blood beginning to pour from her nostril as she covered it in distress.

"What the fuck?! What the fuck!?" Becca spewed with ferocity, glaring up at the girl.

It wasn't long before her string of expletives reeled a stand-still Clementine back into the now thunderous and chaotic reality; it was as if her soul had seeped back into her body with a jolt and her fist raised to examine what she had done. Louis swore he heard her mumble something through Becca's incessant threats, and she began to back away.

Did her system reboot after a self-destruction? Did she black out in an unexpected fit of rage? Sure, Becca could truly press some buttons, she wasn't a stranger to getting on the nerves of people, but what could've warranted that? Was Clementine just… violent like that?

In need of an answer to the rampant questions in his head, Louis pounced forward to turn the girl around, but just as he did, she spun in his direction to evade a struggling yet determined Becca. The collision soured her features as they stunned his.

"God, are you fucking everywhere?!" she growled at him, her hands erratically by her side. Gobsmacked, he couldn't find the urge to blink.

"You… straight up punched Becca in the face…" sounding rather mesmerised than his intended bewilderment, Clementine didn't seem to care about who exactly she injured.

"Who? Wh—" she shot a glance over her shoulder, both their gazes landing upon the approaching Ms Caul. An impatient eyeroll followed. "I- I need to get out of here!"

"You! Stay where you are right now!" Ms Caul demanded, the clack of her quick-paced heels resonating louder and louder through the turbulence of hyped students. "I'm warning you!"

Louis immediately latched his hand around Clementine's wrist, giving her no time to resist as he pulled her along.

"Then we're getting out of here."

Seconds seemed like hours by the time they finally scattered into the courtyard, not too far from the commotion and bloody noses. Whilst tugged along, an overwhelmed Clementine ran through the notions of trying to explain herself. Or how he saw it – trying to explain to herself.

"I don't know— I don't know what the hell happened. I was just walking through the hall, then the next thing she's… on the floor, just—" she suddenly halted her rambling, her contorted expression smoothing over. "…I sound like an idiot… God—"

"What?" he questioned at the sudden shift of her tone. When she lacked further words, he pressed further. "What do you mean?" he asked, glancing back at her quickly over his shoulder. But again, she left him answerless to the muffles of talking students and closing doors amidst the dusk.

Well, one thing was for certain: Marlon had her unpredictability down pat. Her shift in demeanour was bizarre, for the most part. She seemed completely fine yesterday, at least that's what Violet relayed to him by the time they got back to their dorm. Louis couldn't help but wonder that maybe, just maybe, his hand played a part in set her off. No, he couldn't have – she was a troubled youth, she was here for a reason. There had to be something already wrong with her, right? But… maybe there had to be some provocation from his end. She hadn't gotten in any trouble since she got here; if she was an ill-willed loose cannon before, it seemed like she was straying away from that path to get back on her feet. Perhaps he… screwed that up? Nah, that was ridiculous. Someone like her couldn't be afflicted by someone like him. What was he to her? Some pesky annoyance like he was to everyone else? Some not-so-comedic relief to roll her eyes at and forget ever happened? Someone to not take seriously? In the back of his mind, he hoped he was making strides with her, like seeing those little moments of vulnerability where she'd laugh with him – or maybe at him – and prayed she didn't feel as miserable as she seemed. But who was a guy like Louis to a girl like Clementine? Louis was no one to her, he had to be just another face in yet another school. He wasn't special. Hell, he was lucky to even be holding her hand right now. Her sore, bleeding hand.

"You're bleeding," he told her, slowing to a stop by the flagpole.

"Huh?" she mumbled in her daze.

"Your hand. It's bleeding," he reiterated to her as he presented her own hand to her gaze. She observed it – the middle knuckle of her middle finger was split, dripping blood down the rest of her fingers. "I won't lie to you, Clem. There's a good chance you're going to get in some real trouble. Ericson might not see a lot of the crap that goes on, but when Ms Caul does, she really goes after you. If you told me even Hitler was scared of her, I would definitely believe it. But there's a chance you can get out of this. We'll get you out of sight. So… just… maybe don't worry so much, alright?"

Her features were stoic.

"You don't have to help me," she lowly insisted.

"But I am…" Louis quickly replied. "I want to," he mumbled.

"Why?" her voice hardened.

"Why not?" he retorted, equally as brazen.

The right side of her face twitched from the hint of confusion, she was almost grateful, as shocking as that was for her to believe. Helping her was, in fact, an odd commodity… but something she knew she had to accept. There'd been enough self-destructing for one day.

"I can take you back to our dorm," Louis began to tug her. "Marlon can—"

"No," she suddenly resisted, shaking her head. "Not your dorm."

"Marlon'll get you off the hook—"

"I said no!" she yanked her hand back from him. When an amalgamation of shock, confusion, and regret tainted his usually bright features, she sighed the rigidity from her body. Don't yell, just explain, she thought to herself. "I'll go anywhere else. Any idea you've got," her voice had softened, softened to a level he didn't think she was capable of. "Just not him."

Like a punch to the gut, it wasn't hard to tell Marlon had a lapse in composure again – scared her, freaked her out, said something he shouldn't have… in typical Marlon fashion. He'd seen it before, countless times. Brody being his usual victim.

"Shit," he mumbled almost helplessly, his voice barely audible. She may have not even heard. With his hands on his hips, he glanced back at the administration building, letting out a curt sigh. "Come on," he jutted his head.

"In there…?" she blinked cautiously.

With a simple smirk, Louis let Clementine know he wouldn't allow her to go about this alone. Albeit he didn't create it, he sure did walk right into and take part in this mess. He was willing to make it his own for her.

Another gesture of his head was all it took for her to mindlessly follow behind him as they walked to the administration building. Once inside, the pair kept a stern eye out for the Headmaster or Ms Caul herself before taking a sharp turn into the corridor that led into the music room. Clementine didn't need to be anywhere near its doors to know just how bustling it was in there. She wasn't a fan of crowds, but this one was starting to seem like a great spot to lay low until the excitement died down.

Reaching the doors, Louis rested his scarred palm on the handle and took a moment to glance back at the girl.

"Once I open this door, there's no going back," he mysteriously told her, earning her narrowed stare. "Behind this mahogany loiters the most—"

"Just open the door," she tiresomely demanded, folding her arms.

With a quick deadpan and a curt sigh, Louis pushed back the door to reveal bundles of scattered students huddling around poorly conditioned instruments; the chimes of guitar tuning, BPM testing, and idle jamming filled the room similarly to the creative energy that filled the young ruffians.

"Hand me that pick—"

"A one, two, three, four—"

"You pull a stupid face when you blow—"

"How fast was that? Huh? Did I beat it?"

"You're sounding much better! Awh, I can't wait to see you perform this!"

Mouth slightly agape, Clementine took nothing short of a few steps forward as she stepped into the vivacious room. Ericson's sure had it's musical side.

"This room… it's huge," she observed as Louis nodded.

"When the school only had under a hundred students, like waaay back in the 1800s, this room and the one across the hall were the only two classrooms. There was only the courtyard, baseball field, and the admin building," he informed her, stepping up behind her. "Obviously as time went on and parents started shipping their kin over here like Christmas greeting cards to distant relatives, the school expanded and these rooms served… other purposes."

"And you just… play music in here? All the time?" she glanced up at him. He scoffed, raising his hands to his hips.

"What else are we supposed to do? Better ourselves as people?" he amusingly rolled his eyes. "We— uh, we're working on it," he cleared his throat.

As Clementine quirked her eyebrow, a rather chirpy redhead had made her reoccurrence in the music room. Surrounded by a few other windblown students who spoke between each other, mindlessly following their leader, she hopped over to Louis and his guest with a glorious smile.

"Now take a look at you!" Ruby's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Just can't seem to stay away from the fresh meat, can ya Lou?"

"Well, I do take it upon myself to lead the young and misguided towards the light," he quipped back, placing his hands on his hips with pride.

Clementine blinked, then side eyed him as she felt prompted to speak.

"Yes…" she mumbled, "the light…"

As a scathing silence ensued between the pair and Ruby, the petite ginger took it upon herself to continue an easy conversation.

"Well? Aren't ya goin' to introduce yer new friend?" she pestered Louis, his hands falling by his sides.

"Right. Clementine, meet the nightmare of every southern belle, Miss Ruby Drummond."

"Witty," Ruby deadpanned.

"And Ruby, this is… Clementine," he sighed, brows furrowing just as a weary mother's would. "Certified fresh meat."

"Well, I think I've seen ya around, but it's nice to finally— Oh my god, your hand! It's bleedin'!" Ruby's eyes widened, her hands instinctively reaching for Clementine's. The inattentive crowd behind her had suddenly peaked at the shrill of Ruby's shock, their wide, curious eyes glancing over her shoulder.

"Uhhh…"

"I thought you looked a lil' shaken up! What the hell happen' to you?!" she choked out, observing the hand cautiously.

"She…" Louis stammered, desperately racking his brain for anything that sounded remotely normal. "She cut herself on—"

"I hit someone," Clementine voice wobbled with uncertainty, her eyes flickering between her hand and Ruby's furrowed expression. Louis half-heartedly threw his hands up.

"Great. That'll keep you out of trouble," he crossed his arms.

"Yoo, holy shit—" a kid began to chuckle from behind Ruby.

"You hit someone?! Who?! Whooo!?" another excitedly bounced.

Louis' eyes narrowed the louder the excitement grew. "No, she didn't hit anybo—"

"It was Becca," Clementine replied, earning Louis' dramatic eyeroll.

"Hah! No way!"

"Nice!"

"What I'd do to take a shot at her… oh, man."

"I know, right? Screw that bitch."

Clementine huffed out a doubtful laugh, slightly pulling at the grip Ruby had on her hand.

"I… didn't mean it," she told them, her eyes edging up to Louis'. His brows raised softly. "It just sort of happened."

"Who cares? She's just the worst."

"I bet she deserved it."

"Anyone who gives Becca a good socking is a-okay in my book."

Blinking, Clementine glanced up at Louis.

"Band geeks… they're violent," she stiffly noted, rising on her toes to reach his height.

"You should see 'em during food fights," he huffed.

After a few more moments of eagerly examining Clementine's busted hand, Ruby let it go with a sharp "hmph" and a pointed finger.

"Stay here, sugar. I'll grab a couple things to patch this up from the first aid office," she informed her, beginning to walk away before halting. "Oh, hey, Lou—how's yer hand holdin' up?"

He smirked, giving her a thumbs up with his injured hand.

"A first degree burn never hurt nobody," he replied, grinning almost from ear to ear. Ruby's expression collapsed.

"That's… exactly what they do," she rigidly replied, glancing oddly at him. Searching for the wise words of wit that usually bounced about in his head, Louis let out an unsure laugh, his expression blanking when nothing intelligible seemed to leave his mouth. He scratched the back of his head a moment before Ruby began to awkwardly edge away.

Clementine huffed.

"Genius."

After a short, self-doubting glare she received from Louis, he led her over to the suddenly unoccupied piano by the sun-kissed window. He planted himself down on the seat, his hands placed on the keys as if he were about to play some marvellous improvisation through channelling Bach himself. She somewhat snorted at the sight. When he noticed she hadn't sat beside him, his innocent eyes peered up at her, his head gesturing to the space beside him for her to join him. The lump in her throat pulsed the reoccurring thought of too intimate, too intimate, too intimate. But all she had to do in this chaotic room was blend in, not stick out. You know, like see the ball, be the ball.

See Louis, be Louis.

Breathing in heavily through her nose, she gracelessly positioned herself on the seat next to him; an action he didn't seem so phased by. Not so pompously as he looked before, Louis placed his hands on the keys once again and let his fingers push mindlessly on the ivories. She followed his movement with her eyes, a brow quirking at how seamlessly he was stringing notes together. She hadn't focused on his playing the day she first interacted with him, the notions of smothering her pride and homesickness had taken up most of her attention when that went down. To her, his playing had solidified a third language Louis seemed to speak.

The first being the obvious: his words. No, not like how everyone else used them. He spoke as if he were describing a scene all the time, using such emphasis and detail on the minute factors of conversation. He let everyone see the way he saw the world around him. He painted, in her head, the absurd visions he saw in his own.

His second language was physical expression. The way he carried himself, used his hands to speak, morphed endearing facial expressions to accompany his words – it was as if he patented his own way of movement. Tugging on his jacket lapels, slagging his arm around a friend's shoulder, leaning in to talk to her as if he were well and truly apart of the interaction. A lifeless Louis wouldn't be Louis.

And last but not least, his music. What was he even playing right now? Nothing she could recognise. Maybe some old classical, maybe some improvisation. Who knew? All she knew was how shocking it was, how focused he was. She watched him fully immerse himself into a shoddy, banged up piano that sounded just a tad out of tune. It was him. It was the musical interpretation of the boy himself.

"Know how to play anything?" he chimed out of nowhere, allowing his hands to lazily play a rather sombre composition than the one before. Yanked out of her rumination, she shrugged.

"I don't."

"Music not your thing?" he further questioned, a tinge of disappointment in his tone.

"Music is everyone's thing," she replied through an obvious chuckle. "Just can't play anything on piano."

Louis huffed.

"Well, maybe if you're lucky, the best piano player in the world just might give you a lesson once your hand is all better," he grinned at her, glancing to and from the piano. Clementine's eyes playfully narrowed.

"Will he now?" she pressed, her eyes staring fervently up at him. The calling of his bluff almost knocked the wind out of him.

"I know him personally," he replied, partnering his smirk with a wink. What didn't follow his confident suit, however, were the notes he played. Being so caught up in Clementine seemed to render him disabled in the piano-playing department for that short-lived moment.

"Well, Louis, that's great and all…" she repositioned herself on the seat, "but you should take those lessons for yourself. Sounds like you need it," she finally allowed a crack of a grin to reveal itself to him. Relieving his hands of the piano, he returned her grin with a smile of suspicion.

"Alright, you caught me slipping," he shrugged. "Playing the piano and talking to a girl who recently pummelled a kid is a hard feat to achieve," he jokingly admitted, prompting her to roll her eyes. "But I bet I could master it."

"That's your hill to die on."

"Now who said anything about dying on it?" he questioned, retracting his head back.

"Yeah, you're right," her grin widened. "Talking a lot is kinda what you do best, huh?" she teased, an echo in the back of her mind hoping he didn't take what was partly jest to be entirely hostile.

"I can't imagine any other way to get a word out of you," he sprung back with an innocent shrug. "Unless you know of any you'd like to share with the class?" he challenged, a sanguine smirk gracing his face.

"Maybe that's the trick to this whole thing, maybe you're not supposed to get a word out of me," her brows raised effortlessly. "Maybe things are supposed to be left how they were. How they are alone; by themselves."

Perched upon the double seater, he struggled to maintain a composed expression at the abruptness of her words. How quickly those words came to her could only puzzle him, yet led him to wonder how long she had been sitting on a thought like that for.

"Well…" he mindlessly traced the length of the keys with his finger, "I can't leave well enough alone," he told her, his gaze finally making its way back to hers. "Never had, never could."

Clementine smirked.

"That's your hill to die on," she repeated.

As if the giant horse of liveliness had kicked him in the back, Louis perked himself up again, regaining his former pep.

"Well dying on it ain't part of the plan!" he chirped back, a courageous grin returning Clementine's sceptical one.

"Mhm…" she hummed, her eyes squinting with scrutiny. "And what is?"

Before Louis could even realise the hole he dug himself into, Ruby slipped back into his vision with basic medical supplies in hand alongside her signature, rosy-cheeked smile. Taking a second to breathe, he allowed Ruby to consume the girl's attention as she began playing doctor almost right away. It was a hell of a coincidence she returned when she did, for Louis knew he was bound to blurt out whatever slightly made sense when in actuality, would send Clementine running. How do you tell a girl you've only known for a few days that she's the most interesting person you've ever set eyes on, even when you know barely anything about her? How wouldn't that freak her out? In what world wouldn't that make her uncomfortable, or worse; make her angry?

Just keep playing, he thought as he returned his hands to the piano.

"Trust me darlin', you'll wanna stop gettin' in fights," Ruby spoke up, ensuring her attempt to ease the scathing silence between her and her stone-still patient. Clementine huffed through the stinging sensation of the rubbing alcohol.

"Believe it or not, my Ericson's fight record was clean up until five minutes ago," she replied, a tinge of humour to her tone.

"Your Ericson's one…" Louis echoed; brows raised impressively. She returned his gaze with stern eyes.

"Take it from me, yer gonna get a lot of gnarly infections if you keep cuttin' yer knuckles on some poor fellas' teeth," Ruby insisted, dabbing away the coagulated blood on the girl's hand. "Consider yourself lucky Becca Wallace is a clean freak." Louis deadpanned into confusion.

"That's an interestingly specific fact to know," he commented, prompting Ruby to meet his stare.

"She's my dormmate," she clarified. "Chances are she'll clean her nose up before I could even get the tissues out."

Clementine quirked a brow of disbelief.

"You'd do that for her?" she asked.

"Sure I would. Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' nice. Especially if it means you won't be gettin' any infections," she grinned, patting down the thick fabric of the rather high-end band-aids onto Clementine's hand. "There. Yer all cleaned up," she dusted her hands together.

"Thanks," Clementine nodded, closing and re-opening her fist to settle the band-aid in.

"And keep yer nose clean too! Don't go sniffin' around for any trouble 'round here," Ruby warned, but her stern gaze was no match for her sweet smile. "Wouldn't wanna be cleanin' up a pretty face like that if you so happen to lose next time," she assured her, hands planted on her hips.

When Louis instinctively glanced back at Ruby, she returned his ever so agape grin with a wink. Upon her exit, Louis shied his glance away and back to the piano when Clementine peered up at him, red faced and biting the inside of her cheek. He tried to fill the emptiness between them the only way he could.

"I think she was coming onto you," he jabbed her with his elbow, a smirk tugging at his lips. Her brows raised, unimpressed.

"She's probably blind," she mumbled, tapping mindlessly on one of the higher piano keys.

"What? How could you s— sss…" Louis froze, elongating the sound of his aborted word in sheer panic. If he told her she was wrong for ever thinking she wasn't attractive, she would totally get creeped out. And if he agreed with her self-deprecation, she might even give him an uppercut. Louis knew his words skated on thin ice with someone that held an abundance of walls up. It wasn't as cut and dry as, say, trying to chat up the cute cashier at the convenience store when students were allowed into town every fortnight. And it definitely wasn't as easy as hiding away in a boarding school for two weeks after she rejected your flirtations and hope she isn't working the next time you come in. For a person as challenging as Clementine, he wasn't sure what his approach was. All he knew were the approaches it probably shouldn't be.

"Sss…? Sss-what?" Clementine stared up at him, lips parted in anticipation. Louis cleared his throat.

"Sss-say…" he choked up once again. As quick as he was with his witty jokes and quips, a face like that sure knew how to make him speechless.

Her shoulders almost slumped, her brows furrowing in ever so slightly.

"I get it," she mumbled. "I'm not exactly the easiest person to talk to," she followed, her index finger merely resting on a piano key.

"Oh…" Louis' confusion set in. "Wait, huh?"

She sighed, her words at the tip of her tongue. Spit it out.

"I'm… sorry, for… going off the rails yesterday. It can happen sometimes," she apologized, her eyes scanning over her hand. "Evidently," she held it up.

It was never the thought of being too suspicious or too angry at someone that was hard to come to terms with. It was that the act of apologizing, albeit necessary, just came so awkwardly to her. Call it an immature notion of self-pride or the fear of being disbelieved, she never really got the hang of stringing those words together as well as they should've been.

On the other hand, he couldn't figure out why she was apologizing to him? He found it absurd that she felt the need to admit a wrong-doing when he wasn't so innocent himself. While subconscious, he felt he was the one that led her to believe something fishy was going on behind the scenes between he and Marlon. Sure, it was one slip up, and sure, it was inherently harmless. But he knew who he was talking to, he knew there had to be a reason for her strong and immediate mistrust of people. When it came to Clementine, all the tip toeing and the eggshell walking wasn't in vain. There was no doubt that she was the type of person to sniff out red flags and act accordingly, even to the point where similar words being spoken was an odd sign. Her glorious moments of kindness and nurturement that he knew there was more of was a product of respecting her. It was a product of treating her kindly when she first wanted nothing to do with him. A product of trying to make her feel comfortable among his friends because it's clear that's what she needed – some friends, a group she could be apart of.

Being careful was worth it, because while he didn't see himself to be the best person, he knew he could be better. Being better meant he had to be careful. And being careful meant that soon enough, he could be around the kind of Clementine that trusted him.

"You shouldn't be the one apologizing. I get it, Marlon and I…" he huffed shaking his head. "It sounded really suspicious from your position. Just… know I'm not trying to mess with you or fool you into anything. My friends, they're cool people. They've helped me through some shitty things and I… I think I've helped them too. I want you to be around us because I know you'll like it with them, and I can tell they like you too. You're… super cool. Like, really cool. To be completely honest, I never know what you're going to say next, so… it's—um… fun talking to you," he began to chuckle.

After a long silence which included a held breath from Louis and a tiny, warm grin from Clementine, she finally peered back up at him.

"Even with all the insults?" her smile widened, his shoulders easing with relief.

"Pfft, totally. That's the best part! Being completely dismantled by a girl who doesn't even like to talk," he shrugged, leaning his elbow on the end of the piano. "It's really humbling, you know?" Clementine chuckled, but withheld her words. She appreciated his kindness, however she couldn't figure out how to express it. "I, uh… I don't think you're like that all the time," Louis continued, a rather serious tone now decorating his voice. "I think you can be really nice under all that… hostility."

Her brows raise inquisitively.

"And what gives you that impression?"

He shrugged.

"Sometimes you just feel it."

As if the pair were in the middle of a high school talent show, the back corner of the room began to light up with the thunderous soundings of a performance. She recognised the almost exact guitar riff to be something from Weezer, but the specific song she couldn't remember. Louis, as if he were a robot suddenly controlled, immediately turned to face the corner. A bunch of rag tag kids wielding their personal guitars jammed away, turning the heads of everyone else in the room. Clementine could only wonder, perhaps it was an unspoken tradition – when a group played, everyone gave their attention. They couldn't care less if you were just strumming to yourself near the fireplace; when a bunch of troubled kids were about to smash out a song they had been rehearsing to relieve their inner tension, you listened.

A scruffy, shaggy haired boy with thickly rimmed glasses approached the dodgy microphone, a cheap, sticker-littered and scratched up Fender in hand.

"Debt, on my head, wasting time, on my own. Sleep, rescue me, take me back, to my home."

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. In what other school was she going to see random jam sessions of genuinely performed music? Well, aside from some pompous performing arts school that would set her back a couple thousand dollars.

Well… shit, this is… cool, Clementine thought to herself, her leg bumping along to the beat.

"…I'll appear, slap you on the face and, enjoy the show."

She turned back over to Louis.

"Figured out a band name yet?" she questioned over the cacophonous music.

"Why, you got one?" he leaned in to hear her. A smug grin plagued her face.

"How about Not So Troubled Youth?" she joked, a curt snort of laughter escaping her soon after.

"As appreciated as your solid efforts may be, I think I'm still gonna roll with my choice of Disciplinary School Band," he replied, a smirk upon his lips as he received her eye-roll of disapproval.

"…Fag, of the year, who can beat, up your man. For, the times, that you wanna go and…"

"It can be your band too," he continued, his expression solidifying into something more serious.

"Me?" she whipped her head from the band back to him. "I don't sing."

Louis' brows rose with curiosity, his lips widening into another grin. Her stomach churned.

"Now who said anything about singing?" he questioned her.

Clementine's expression iced over, her eyes shooting to the side as she came to realise her screw up of epic proportions. Fuck.

"No one."

"You hidin' some talents from me, Clementine?" he playfully tantalized her. "Are you withholding such greatness even the likes of the Beatles cannot obtain?" his eyes bore into her with excitement.

She sighed.

"I can sing like your grandma," she admitted through her deadpan. "Is that you wanna hear? Some corny, old, mid-century love songs?"

With his mouth agape, Louis' wide eyes blinked. From that voice, God, yes!

"Uh, yeah!"

"No, Louis. No," she grimaced, turning to face the piano again. "It sounds awful."

"Wh— awful?!" he sputtered. "You're talking about an industry defining era here! An era you seem to like," he nudged her with his elbow.

"Alright, fine. The music? It's great. But thanks to my grandparents, I've got Julie London and Kay Starr playing in my head the second I get a moment of silence. And I like it," she seemed disappointed with herself. "Who likes the music their grandparents like?" she said, scrunching her features up in distaste. He froze in astonishment.

"You, apparently. And you're talking to the guy who was just playing Chopin."

Her brows narrowed in.

"Who?"

"I— Don't worry…" Louis' eye twitched before he took a breath. "Having an interest in music beyond what's on the radio means you've got taste. You, my friend, have a musical palette—"

"A what—?"

"Which is what fine-tunes and increases the creative structure of music's greatest songs and bands! You think—"

Before Louis could continue his totally not biased marvelling at what an addition Clementine would be to his theorised band, the music halted and lowly cheers of praise ensued.

"Not bad, guys!"

"You managed to make a Weezer song not suck. Good job."

Louis peered back over his shoulder, watching his friends embark in all the praise they were receiving. Being one of their supporters from the very first day they formed back in freshman year, he felt the need to congratulate them. He owed it to them, after all.

"Think about it, Clem. I promise you, there'll be nothing you regret," he told her, standing from the chair. "You comin'?" he gestured his head toward the band, a sliver of his grin peeking at her.

Neither discontent nor glee, Clementine innocently shook her head at his later proposal. She figured he didn't need her by his side any longer than she had to be.

The band proposal, however, was one she had to think about.

"For the millionth time, none of those asshats hit me! I was walking past the lockers and one of them flew open. That's it, that's the headline! That's the news at six! Local schoolgirl attacked by locker! There's your goddamn answer."

Ms Caul sat unamused at the Headmaster's desk, observing a swollen-nosed Becca hold a rag up to her face and give her testimony. A thick silence suggested the Headmaster wasn't present to give his blabbering excuses for these recalcitrant vermin. Off on some escapade, it meant Ms Caul was left to assume authority over students as second in command. It felt all too natural to sit at the weighty mahogany desk, in the vintage, executive leather office chair, taking control of kids who dared step a toe out of line. It was all she knew, after all.

Obedience. Order. Authority.

These insolent children wouldn't know a damn thing about it.

"So, you're telling me you were walking down the hall, minding your own, and a locker door just so happened to swing open and give you a nosebleed?" she reconfirmed, her brows raising unimpressively.

"Are you gonna believe me when I say yes this time?" Becca bit back, a petulant snark to her tone.

Ms Caul deadpanned.

"Let's ignore how incredibly ridiculous your poorly concocted story is and the fact that you're quite obviously lying to your Deputy Headmaster, and allow me to ask you this," she recrossed her legs. "What was Miss Everett doing standing over you? Why was she there?"

Becca slowly removed the rag from her bloodied nose and leaned forward in her seat, her eyes staring fervently into Ms Caul's.

"She – didn't – touch me," she spoke deliberately, her soured features stone-like in nature. "Take my word, my dorm room wouldn't be the only cell I'd be in if she ever put her hands on me," she venomously insisted before leaning back in her chair.

Ms Caul was struck with amusement, enough to make her calmly stand from her chair and pace around the desk. Amongst the silence, Becca sat weary, unsure of why her words didn't spark some sort of outrage in the woman.

"Is that a threat on the life of another student, Miss Wallace?" she somewhat limpidly asked the young girl, patiently pacing behind her with her hands behind her back. "By the off chance it can't go unsaid, Ericson's Boarding School has a zero tolerance policy for violence between students and towards staff, which includes deliberate verbal threats. I know you aren't scared, but you may ask yourself what sort of punishment could ensue? Well, if I had it my way, immediate expulsion wouldn't even be considered. Being expelled is freedom for you pests. It's like running for the hills without the armed enemies behind you. No, I wouldn't expel you. Perhaps hours of gruelling manual labour or the insanity that comes with solitary confinement would be a suitable punishment. See, if it weren't for the Headmaster, I would be fully committed to enforcing these consequences on those who threaten the lives of others." Ms Caul planted a hand on Becca's shoulder from behind, leaning over to get ever so close. "Because I don't make empty threats like you do," she lowly insisted, her eerie tone was like a cold settling on the girl's skin.

Becca couldn't quite put her finger on what was so wrong about what she was saying, but she knew it certainly wasn't passing any morality tests. Her usual ferocity was silenced with shock, her words stolen from her, rendering her completely and utterly speechless.

"Get back to your dorm, Miss Wallace," Ms Caul stood up straight, instilling the usual solidity of her tone. "I'm sure there's some unfinished classwork you'd want to catch up on."

The girl took no time in shooting up from her seat and darting out of the office, paying no mind to shut the door behind her.

She's fucking nuts.

songs used in this chapter:
dope nose - weezer

authors note: so wow! hey! super sorry for the huge delay. life took some unexpected turns, kinda got slack on my hobbies, but i'm getting back on the horse and getting another chapter out to you wonderful people. i'm sorry it took MONTHS to get this chapter out, i had some writers block rearing its ugly head as well, but hopefully you can forgive me! i come with a gift so you basically have to ha. anywho, next chapter shouldn't take as long to get out as i'm going to instantly start drafting and writing it as soon as i post this on all the sites, get the tumblr updated and whatnot. i wanna thank you if you're actually reading this because it means you haven't given up on the story, which i sincerely love and appreciate. you have no idea how great your comments make me feel as i feel like i've finally written a story people enjoy (believe it or not, i've had my fair share of poorly written fics and storylines. but ya bared with me!). so here's to you, chapter 8. not much actually happens in this chapter, but there's some juicy clem x louis bonding going on as well as some characters we haven't quite seen enough of. i'm worried some of you may take a step back and be like "oh. they've known each other for 4 days. louis liking her this fast seems weird" and yeah boo i get that, don't worry! i always think that too. but in the immortal words of peachplease/zvkos (author of instant crush) lou boy falls fast and he falls hard. a complete and utter hopeless romantic. get ready. THANKS BYE