Little wolf, little wolf, alone in the dark
With a little bit of bite, and a lot less bark
I invite you to follow, I beseech you to play
In this game of defense, where you can't run away

Little wolf, knowing this, you should run away fast
You are only the first, and you may be the last
For this game is of fear, and the stakes are the prize
But remain, little wolf, and I'll shed my disguise

I held tight to the notebook in my arms, a pen hiding within its spiral binding. That pen...

I remember when I'd first gotten it. Mother and I were window-shopping, and we came upon a store of stationary, among other things. I was fascinated by the various objects inside, whilst Mother merely watched me, a smile upon her face. I came across a pen, and my eyes seemed drawn to it no matter how hard I tried to look away. Oil on water, that was its coloration. It was simple in its beauty, but I was caught upon it. And, upon leaving the store, Mother presented it to me. She'd purchased it, and I was overjoyed.

Later on, I made the mistake of showing it to Father. I was young, and naïve, and should have known better. Father has never been one for kind words, but my excitement made me want to share it with my Father, one who I was supposed to be loved by unconditionally.

His eyes merely turned to it, examining it, before he spoke, "It's rather feminine, isn't it?" And he returned to his reading.

The words themselves were harmless, but the tone was...accusing. I heard Mother and Father argue later, after Mother had seen the tears in my eyes. I never hid them from her, for she assured me they were normal. Only for her did I cry. But still, to this day, I hold that thought in mind.

If I could speak to him, I would say, "Something doesn't have to be feminine to be beautiful."

But would he even hear it, I wonder.

I've had the pen for more than half of my life now. It's been sparsely-used and well-cared for. The notebook, I purchased several years ago. It is the only thing I ever use him for, my oil-on-water pen, and this shall remain as such for as long as I live. When I write in her, my notebook, he spells out beautiful things and empties emotions that try and consume me. He is my rare, true voice, and Father would be ashamed that he still exists...and that he plays such an important, albeit small, role in my life.

I stood in front of my locker, leaning the top of my notebook against the door; both were unopened. I closed my eyes, and sighed. The poem had been devouring me, but I had perfected it finally, and it ached to be written. The time, the location, they were of no matter; I did not exist to others if I did not choose to. I slipped my pen out, opened her up to write upon her next, blank page.

Two minutes, and I was finished. I looked upon her, and bit my lip. I held the pen tight in my hand, and he was warm from inspiration. I sighed emptily. It always broke me to write, and I was loathe to do so in school. I needed something to shock me back to reality before my next class, so I, desperately, reached to encircle my left wrist. I squeezed. There was nothing. I winced from the pain in my chest from the void I felt.

"Hey..."

I turned my head just enough so my eyes could catch Kevin's impending form. Of course, the subject of my writing would decide to intrude. And...people were watching. I sighed, readying myself for what I might have to do.

"Little Red, why are you approaching me as such? I've already informed you of the way it is to be done," I growled, lip twitching as I stared silently at the notebook, closing it. I gripped tightly on the pen before I slipped him into his nest within the binding.

"...Cuz I saw you grab your wrist again." Of course you did, my sweet. But not for the reasons you assume. Why must you insist on making this difficult?

"Leave me," I hoped my tone would convey my lack of desire to continue this conversation, at least within view the eyes of our fellow classmates. I was not ready for things to change at that moment. I was barely connected to reality as it was.

"Hey, I just wanna know you're okay, alright?" Insistent dolt; that is not a simple question to answer, and I cannot lie to you any more.

I groaned quietly, placing my left hand over my face in frustration, pinching the bridge of my nose. I held tight to my notebook with my right hand, holding it to my chest.

"I am warning you, Kevin, cease and desist or you will come to regret your actions."

I turned away from him, beginning my walk towards my next class, when I felt something grab my left wrist. I mentally prepared myself for what I had to do. I swiftly moved my hand to take his, twisting it hard as I turned in his direction, forcing him down slightly as I glared at him. He let out a squeak of pain, but I did not yield, and held tight. Everyone was watching us. Red was only watching me.

"Fuck, FINE, asshat, have it your way!" He ripped his wrist out of my hand, grabbing it and hissing, "Fuck..."

And he walked off, shooting me nothing but a single look. I stared at him. Everyone stared at me in turn...until they didn't.

I was alone in the halls as classes started minutes later. I stood in place, gripping my notebook, as my look fell. My eyes softened, and my shoulders collapsed.

"Mon chéri...this is the game we play..." My voice crumbled out, weak and upset with myself from some secret part of me, "play foe with me; for them, for now...please..."

My walk to class was slow. No one dared look at me when I entered. I think I even scared the teacher, with the aura I exuded.

Good, I thought, I need this time to think...and so I did.

And again, I wrote.

"Seriously? That's f-ed up!" Nazz's melodical voice was interwoven with concern and anger. I'd told her what Eddward had done, since she wouldn't stop asking what had me in such a bad mood, and I decided I'd just get it out now and deal with her ranting.

And rant she did. Every time we met up in the hallway, she was livid. Even more than me, it was kinda a bit much, but I guess it shows how much she cares. Still, I just kinda wanted to forget about it, about Eddward, about...all this stupid shit.

I shoulda known better anyways. He warned me not to trust him, and I was stupid enough to try and...ugh. I should've just asked Marie first instead of barging into his business! God I'm fucking stupid. And why should I care, anyways? It's not like I give a shit if he's hurting himself! He just proved he'd hurt me, too! What's the point of stopping him? Better him than me, I guess...

No, that's not right. Ugh, Nazz was getting to me, I needed to get her to calm down.

"Hey, chill, it's done. My wrist doesn't even hurt anymore, see?" I flicked my wrist around to try and make a point, all the while being stared down by my best friend. She was not amused.

"Yeah well next time it might. I - shizz, I have to get home, I have gymnastics today. Just - just stay away from him, alright? I'll catch you tomorrow. Later!"

Finally.

I let out a held breath, walking to my locker to put my books away and head home. Turned the dial, opened it up, and...out fell a perfectly-folded note on lined paper. I looked at it bewilderedly, as though expecting it to move. When it didn't (and why would it?), I looked around; there was no one in sight. I leaned down and picked it up, fingers tracing the perfect creases as I unfolded it. It wasn't a normal piece of paper, it was pretty small, must have been torn out of a journal or something.

My heart stopped when I saw the writing. Elegant, blue swirls dictated a command.

You will come to my house after school. Do not waste my time. - Eddward

I blinked for a long time, looking forward with blurred vision as I thought about what it said. I then proceeded to kick the locker, shove my books away, grab my bag, and leave. I didn't care if I'd forgotten anything, I just wanted to get this stupid shit over with.

What an asshat.

I awaited his coming by sitting upon the couch, reading a chapter of some random book I'd picked from the library. It was only mildly interesting, but it passed the time, and that was all I wished from it. I was impatient, naturally. Not to see him angry, no...but I wanted to see him, still...I...

The doorbell signalled his arrival. He must have gone home to put away his stuff first, perhaps tell his parents of his comings and goings. Not entirely unexpected.

Walking to the door, I was slow to open it. The crack revealed Red, in all of his frustration and ire...but I was numb to it. Or at least, I'd chosen to be numb. I opened the door the rest of the way, my arm signaling him to enter. He stomped in with all the grace of a disgruntled gorilla, and I held back a scoff.

"You may seat yourself on the right side of the couch, and nowhere else. I shall join you in a moment," I spoke calmly, locking the door behind him. He obeyed me unquestioningly, the good little follower that he is. His anger fumed from him, with his crossed arms and a down-turned hat, but I shrugged it off, instead choosing to sit beside him. Rather close, actually; I think it frightened him, because his eyes went wide. I felt him almost jump when I took his wrist.

"Hey! Don't-"

I cut him off, "Be still, I am merely checking that I did not injure you."

That caught him off-guard. He just looked at me, but I decided not to return the gaze. Instead, I cradled his wrist within my palm as my fingers danced over it. I pressed softly at key locations, and watched his face from the corner of my eye for reactions. None. Not even a bruise. If I had been alone, I'd have sighed in relief. I let go.

"It appears I did not injure you; I am...glad." I allowed myself to say, hoping he did not think much of it, as confused as he was. Though, the little firecracker he was, he decided to talk anyhow.

"...so the note was for...this? You...just wanted to check and see if you hurt me?" He stared at me; I did not give him the pleasure of a returned look.

"Oui, mon ami."

"A...alright? So...why did you..."

"Because you're foolish and ignorant, and I do not enjoy change. Did you not see everyone's eyes upon us?"

That seemed to affect him, and he fell into thought. I stared silently out the window to my left, still not so much as turning in his direction.

"I-" he cleared his throat, "W-well, why can you approach me, and not the other way around? Like you did a while ago..." I turned my head just slightly to see him take hold of his wrist again, rubbing at it. I sighed.

I replied matter-of-factly, "Because, mon cher, I know when people are watching. You, on the other hand, are blind to it. We've reputations, I believe you recall. I mean to maintain them."

He turned to me again, and his gaze burned holes through me. I willed myself not to meet his eyes.

"You're...just as afraid of judgement as I am...aren't you?"

The room took to a silence as his gaze rested upon me. I thought of my next words, but all seemed to reveal far too much. I knew what I wanted, and who I was. I knew what I wanted of him...perhaps I could...shock the question out of him.

"Would you allow me to kiss you?" To say his jaw dropped would be quite an understatement. I barely held back the smirk touching my lip.

It had the desired effect, however, as he was immediately brought out of his thoughts as he was faced with a question he never expected. It was priceless. How I wished I didn't know the obvious answer, though...that, perhaps, I could have asked at another time. C'est la vie; I made my choice.

"N-n-no way!" He choked out, but still sat on the couch beside me. He gripped the arm of it and stared at me, and I finally let myself look back. His face was touched with red, and I forced my smile down by reminding myself of what he'd said. Oh, you poisonous fool, Little Red...my thoughts are at war enough.

"Ah..." I replied, my hands holding one another. A fidget, but he did not need to know that, as I continued, "a shame...very well then."

"What?"

My eyes flicked back to him, and I wanted to say more, but tried to tame my tongue, even if that didn't stop me from speaking those foolish words.

"I shall earn it, you know."

He stood up, "I...what?"

"Que, que, is that all you can say, Kevin? Anyhow, I've much to do this evening, and I've less time for it with every moment you steal from me."

He set his fists on his hips, "Hey, you can't just..."

"Mr. Barr, you know what happens when you question me."

And I simply stared at him. Analyzing, calculating, instilling the fear that kept him under me. He didn't shiver this time; did I miss that? Was it a good thing? Either way, his hands fell, and he groaned, walking to the door. He placed his hand upon the knob, turning his head back to me.

"You're...I don't get you."

And he left.

Mon ami, do you think that I get me? Ah...t'were it that easy, you'd be in my grasp. Instead, we play this game, and I will win, eventually. Even if the blushes seem to have the upper hand, as I rested my hand upon my cheek. A warmth I could not fight, nor did I have any desire to. So long as I could wait it out, push it back until I was alone. When I could relish it, and the feelings that tingled through my chest.

As I remembered how warm his hand was, how right it felt to touch with mine...