The day had settled behind us. Marie and I had gone our separate ways at school's end, but I found my mind still looking over the events of earlier in the day. That lost, pleading look in Kevin's eyes as Marie shoved him off 'to the wolves,' so to speak. Though Nazz is in no way a wolf, I thought, a subtle smile teasing at the corner of my mouth. The morning already carried a nostalgic feel to it, the twinkle of the dew in the sunlight, the way his hair shined under that ridiculous hat of his...

I fidgeted, hand reaching unconsciously to my own hat, hiding a tuft of hair beneath it. My eyes were downcast, my purpose unclear for the evening. Memories came and went, fleeting as the goldfinch in the underbrush. On my desk, a paper lay. False, sloppily-made and hastily-written. To anyone else, it would appear gilded in calligraphy, hopeful, and perhaps a little naïve. To me, however...it was utter garbage, not worthy of claiming me as its author.

I took pride in the fact that Kevin noticed this right away. Or, I assumed he did; let it be known my assumptions are rarely false. Still, it disgusted me that I'd written such dreck in the first place. Fingers found their ways to the sides of the essay, sliding under its thin, blasphemous form, my scowl penetrating it. My thumbs pressed deeper as my mind delved into my utter hatred for the drivel I'd spewed so falsely, and before long, there was a crease forming in the paper. I noticed, but took no action to stop it.

Traitorous hands clenched the paper, fingernails leaving marks, until I looked down and saw nothing but trash in my hands. My only draft, and it was gone.

I blinked myself out of my peculiar revery, tossing the thing to the floor with careless abandon. Before it even touched the floor, another paper was before me. I examined its lines, and plotted the words in my mind. The memories returned in the shiest spark of thought.

I would write about what made me happy. And it would be...'true.' Almost.

Close enough.

The whole day, he was watching me again. I mean, I should've gotten used to it by now, but some days his eyes hid, and others, like today...they glowed. Not literally, of course, just that they stood out, and when I caught them, I didn't feel the cold chill he normally cast towards gawkers. It's like sometimes I'm allowed to watch him, and I guess that's...kinda nice? I mean, kinda weird, don't get me wrong, but the fact he gave me that special privelege was...something.

You know, I barely notice him in my other classes. He's quiet, out of view, and there's rarely any group activities to spur me to turn around and see him lingering in the back. It's only been English class, and only recently, where I've seen him out of his shell, engaging, conversing, being. Maybe it's just because of Marie, but either way, when I walked into English that day, I was met with the distinctive, rumbling baritone of his voice.

I didn't catch any of them, but I still turned to look his way. Marie was sitting on her desk, shoes on the chair as she stared back at Eddward. She didn't seem to notice the stray glance he shot towards me, but I saw his eyes look down afterwards. Something bubbled inside me. Confidence, maybe? It was just different, I guess. He never had a problem meeting my eyes before now...

I sat down, awaiting the teacher's inevitable arrival to start class.

Like clockwork, she appeared, and the chaos of the unsettled clas was gone in an instant.

"It's Wednesday, dears. Take out your papers and pass them to your partner for inspection, chop-chop! The sooner you start, the sooner you finish, and before you know it, you'll have your paper handed in and have spare time in your future!"

She was way too cheery sometimes. And weird. Teachers...

I remained in my seat for a good half a minute before I realized that Eddward wasn't coming. A lull in the sounds of moving desks and excited whispers brought this to my attention, and I turned to look at him. His head was buried in his arms, the black jean jacket pressing lines into his cheeks. His eyes stared forward at Marie's arm, as she said something to him. I watched the exchange, and noticed Marie's obvious frustration when she pushed herself back around, standing up and moving to her partner's desk.

Well, I kinda had to get this done. Decided it was gonna have to be the hard way.

Getting up from my desk, I carefully maneuvered the maze of desks, wondering how Eddward could ever manage to look so elegant doing the same thing. I nearly tripped, twice! Once it wasn't even over a binder, it was just me not paying attention to someone moving. I grunted angrily as I finally found my way to Eddward's desk on the other side of the classroom.

I saw a paper under his arms, and I assumed it was his Essay, but...the title looked different. I wanted to take a closer look, but that meant either leaning down in front of the wolf, or asking. And hell if I was gonna risk the first one. I cleared my throat, but he didn't look up. I sighed frustratedly.

"Hey, it's time to...you know...do the thing. Can I have your paper?"

His eyes rolled, but not in frustration. He slowly sat up; it reminded me of a cat stratching, eyes cringed closed as he cricked his neck. He blinked open, looking my way as though he hadn't just been ignoring the world a moment ago.

"Can you?" The sarcasm practically oozed from his voice.

I threw up my hand disbelievingly, "...MAY I have your paper, Mr. Vincent?"

He darkened at the added name, handing me the paper almost mechanically. I returned the gesture, but he was slow to take mine. He didn't look back at me; instead, he reached under his hat, pulling out a red pen. Huh.

I weaved my way back through the desks to sit back down, getting ready to try and officially proofread the paper I'd seen the morning prior. Yeah, that was a total bust. Instead, I was face-to-face with a brand new essay, entitled, Talk.

It started out with a brilliant line, as all of his writing did. Something to catch the reader, entangle them.

We are all born with a voice, however we choose to speak it; however, it is merely talk if no one is there to listen.

I envied him, the way he wove these beautiful things, I didn't understand how he could be such a dark person all the time. He had such beautiful thoughts. I continued on, his first paragraph's gleaning.

Some of us will go our entire lives talking to walls, speaking with books, and trying, desperately, to actually be heard.

But...but I hear you, Eddward.

Our truest words will atrophy, a muscle without use but for minor communications, when we've no one to speak to.

What don't you say?

We'll find a few that will stop and listen, but a lot of times they're like mirrors, able to reflect but nothing more.

Well, that doesn't make sense. What...

Then, that rare person comes along that hears you, and replies with something you could never imagine, and you're free.

...

Like an atom, we react, we decay, and most important of all, we bond and become something greater than we ever were separate. When you find the one that makes you smile in this empty, atomic world, you must react, or you will fade away.

I stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the words, their meaning. It wasn't difficult to determine, but it was still odd. He'd rewritten the entire essay in one night, it seemed, and now it was this. Cryptic, or blatant? I wanted to think...no, no no no, read on.

I did just as such. The paragraphs didn't do much but to cement my beliefs. The occasional line would strike me...

To think that someone's smile could create my own, or a gesture stir feelings rare and deep.

It's funny to think I'd bond to such a peculiar compound, light and free to travel where they wish, the whole world ahead of them, as I lay the dormant solid weighing myself down.

I looked his way again, and watched his pen. Something inside me couldn't wait to own a little piece of Eddward's writing...I blinked myself back to reality, shaking my head as I went back to 'fixing' his paper. There wasn't much, but I knew better than to hand a blank paper back to him, else he'd completely ruin it when he turned it back in.

I kind-of wished he'd let me keep one of his papers. Nothing else made me think about him this way. It was dangerous, but...so was playing with wolves, and I did that daily.

I turned back to watch him working on my paper, finally having finished his. He looked...pissed? That was odd. I figured it'd make sense when I read whatever he had written, and sighed.

The next few minutes were agonizingly slow, and I closed my eyes for a moment, only to hear the tell-tale 'click' 'click' of his heels.

"Dozing off, are we?" I looked up at him, his head cocked in a semi-playful way. Something in the way he held himself told me he would be smiling, were he anyone else. Maybe it was just his eyes. I guess you can't hide them...

"Nah, just waitin' on you. You done now?" My eyes flicked down to the paper in his hands.

"Quite," he slid my paper onto my desk, taking hold of the one in my hands and removing it before I could say anything, and mumbled lowly, "thank you for your time."

My eyebrows shot up, but he'd already turned back to his desk, this time silent. He was so damn strange. I looked down to my paper.

In bright red ink at the top, there was a line, and a word bolded by repeated lines of ink, underlined, with a distinct lack of cursive.

It said, simply:

Don't let fear be your eyes
RIDE

Unconsciously I blushed at the pure conviction in his words. My mind immediately searched for a distraction, going down to his first reviews, and finding them average. Well, average for Eddward. What had driven him to write that, though? I looked over at him, and found him examining his paper silently. He didn't seem to acknowledge me. I felt a little disappointed by that, for some reason.

I read through the rest of his comments and thought of tweaks, until class came near an end.

The bell was just about to ring, when the teacher spoke up, "Now, I know I have this essay for you to finish by Friday, but I'd like to assign you an extra credit assignment based on the upcoming holiday," the bell rang, desks shifting and kids getting up to leave as she continued, "so as a head start, here is the topic: I would like you to write a poem about what love means to you. Any format, due Monday. I will read your works anonymously to the class. So for those of you that need a boost in your grade point average, try it out! I'll see you all tomorrow."

I had scrawled the extra credit note on a piece of paper in my binder, and got my stuff together to leave. Eddward had already left the classroom. I frowned.

Why was I frowning, anyways? This thought stayed in my mind as I made my way out of the classroom, clutching my books tight against me. I looked for him once I'd left the room, but he was gone.

Later that day, I'd made up my mind. I wanted to get to the bottom of why he wrote that...that thing he wrote.

I was going to go over to his house, and, and...pray he didn't kill me for bothering him.

The fuck is wrong with me?