You think I don't hurt
But you're mistaken
You think I don't see
But you're mistaken
You think I don't know
But you're mistaken
"Tylendel?"
"Hmmm?"
Savil sat next to her student. "I'd like to ask your advice."
"What about?"
"Vanyel."
Tylendel sighed, "What is it now?"
"His history teacher says he's been skipping class, and I'm trying to come up with an appropriate deterriant."
Tylendel shook his head, "I'm tempted to tell you to wallop him, maybe deflate that bloody ego of his."
"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Savil asked skeptically.
"No, not really." He sighed. "It's just he can be so infuriating sometimes."
"I know what you mean."
"Plus I think he might be prejudiced against Shay'a'chern."
"What makes you say that?"
"Just the way he reacts to me sometimes. It's nothing, it's just– sometimes I worry about him, but I'm afraid to approach to him, he might react badly."
"Worried about him? Why?"
"Well, have you ever wondered if it's just a pretense? Some people have used coldness to keep from being hurt."
"Unlikely, what in his life could inspire him to create such a pretense?"
"True. It's just that sometimes I get this feeling– but then maybe it's just my hormones running away with me. They've been known to cloud people's judgement before."
"Take care, and remember—"
"Don't fall in love with him, I know, I can't help be attracted though Savil, I'm only human."
"True, just– be careful."
"I will."
****
Vanyel crept onto his room. He'd been skipping History lately. He dreaded what Aunt would do when she caught him. And she would catch him. He was just contemplating sneaking to the kitchen and skipping dinner when he heard his name. Pressing his ear to his bedroom door he unabashedly eavesdropped.
"His history teacher says he's been skipping class, and I'm trying to come up with an appropriate deterrent."
Tylendel's voice responded, in a tone Vanyel had never heard before. "I'm tempted to tell you to wallop him, maybe deflate that bloody ego of his."
Hurriedly Vanyel jerked his ear away from the door. He'd heard enough. Unconsciously he crossed his arms over his chest. He should have known. He should have known. Tylendel hated him. Of course he did. Tylendel thought he was a spoiled brat. Of course he did. They all did. Why had he hoped Tylendel could– care for him? No one could. Except for Lissa, and she was special. No one could love him because things like that didn't happen to him. Vanyel Ashkevron didn't get people who cared about him. He got people who admired his looks, and stabbed him in the back any chance they got. He wasn't good enough to care about. He wasn't good enough for Father. He wasn't good enough for his cousins. He wasn't good enough for Tylendel.
Sobs wracked his body. He couldn't control them. Couldn't make the hurt go away. He'd allowed a crack to form in the ice. And now he hurt. Unbearably so. No more he couldn't– no more cracks. No more daydreaming about kind-hearted blonds. He should have remembered. If you let them in they'll hurt you. He should have remembered. He wished he could make the hurt go away. A way to make it all stop. So he could. Maybe– maybe there was a way.