Homecoming, Part 1

Sorry the updates haven't been very fast guys – I've been really busy but I hope you enjoy this chapter!

There were two things I felt the next morning when I woke up; the urge to vomit and an insane heat. It seemed to overwhelm my body as I slowly came to, starting hottest at my back and then gradually becoming cooler at my front. Still, the heat was spread throughout my entire body and I acknowledged that I was sweating profusely. I groaned in pain at the pounding in my head and tried to move to get to the bathroom, but soon realized that Warren's back was pressed against mine which indicated where the heat source was. Although he was facing away from me, it was clear that his whole body generated heat, and since he was asleep he most likely had less of a control over it than when he was awake.

"Of course," I groaned, practically falling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom, the sweat dripping down my face. "Fucking hotbox."

I heard him stir at the noise that I was making, but I ignored it in favor of aiming for the toilet bowl as I face planted into it and vomited. It wasn't until I had retched several times that I heard the gentle padding of his footsteps make their way into my tiny bathroom. He didn't say anything at first, simply held my hair back and waited until my stomach had ceased it's attack to speak. It took a good five minutes; I had drunk a good 3/4 of a bottle last night and although I had vomited then, my body was still metabolizing the alcohol and it didn't like it one bit. I was fairly used to it at this point, but Warren on the other hand was not, and it was clear that he was fairly shocked.

"Think you're okay?" He asked, voice groggy from sleep.

"No," I spat into the ceramic bowl and flushed it, deciding to be completely honest. I knew my own body after years of drinking, and although I had built up a fair tolerance, there was no way I wouldn't be sick after almost finishing a bottle.

My friend didn't say anything, merely filling up the same glass of water that had stayed on the counter overnight with fresh H2O. I took it, thanking him weakly and spitting more stomach bile into the toilet. The shame that I had felt being drunk in front of him yesterday night had gone, and instead been replaced by guilt; I felt like I had failed some kind of test. I was supposed to be doing better after my horrid past and introducing positivity to my life, but I had been practicing self destruction instead of love. Granted, people like Warren and the group of freshmen helped, but this uncontrollable alcohol problem was getting the best of me. I had refused to admit that it was such a serious problem until now and it was time to stop treating my body so poorly. In fact, I found it quite ironic that I was doing so much damage to myself and healing others at the same time. The thought almost caused me to snort, but I held it in as another wave of nausea passed over me.

"Oh for the love of..." My sentence cut off as I was interrupted by a rather violent retch, and I regurgitated more stomach acid. My esophagus felt like it was on fire and my nose was no better; everything was clogged up, slimy and disgusting. "...christ."

Again, Warren said nothing, instead choosing to stroke my back with a warm hand. He always seemed to run at higher temperature than everyone else, but I believed that I was one of the few people that noticed. No one really got close enough to Warren to discover that, and the fact that he had let me in close enough to learn more about him made the ball of happiness in my stomach grow larger. In that ball there was also affection for the boy who had taken time out of his life to help someone in need, and I could feel that growing each day as well. I felt safe and taken care of when I was around the pyrokinetic; despite him being so standoffish all the time at school and making sure that no one approached him, he had no qualms about our closeness. In fact, I was almost certain that even though I probably looked like his little sidekick at some points, Warren would have preferred me close to him and have people gossiping behind our backs than have me far away with our friendship a secret.

"How about now?" His question broke me out of my thoughts, and I sighed in relief as I realized that the awful feeling in my stomach was receding.

"Better," I admitted, shaking as I lifted myself from the floor. I flushed the toilet one last time and went to check the cheap clock I had nailed to my wall, seeing that it was seven in the morning and we had about half an hour to get ready before the bus showed up.

"School," I muttered, grabbing a Tylenol out of the cupboard and popping it as I tried to find my pants. Warren was already on the move, organizing my bed and grabbing his own things before putting the alcohol I had left by the bedside on my counter. I merely shot him a small smile in gratitude before shutting myself in the bathroom and changing into a large grey sweater before brushing my teeth to rid them of the horrible smell. I quickly slapped on deodorant and eyeliner as well, figuring that today of all days I should try and make myself look less like a zombie. The hangover would definitely continue into late afternoon – I could still feel the nausea like a bowling ball in my stomach – but at least I wouldn't look like a walking corpse for the rest of the day.

"Ready?" Warren rumbled from the other side of the door, knocking softly.

I did the best I could with my hair in ten seconds, brushing the long black locks before opening the door and letting Warren in to do his business. In the meantime I grabbed by bag and checked the time again, cursing as I realized we only had fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop. Thankfully we were fast, pulling on our respective combat boots and bags before rushing out of the complex and setting a quick pace towards the bus stop. I had to admit; getting drunk on school nights wasn't something that I did regularly, and now that it had affected Warren I felt even guiltier. I wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how to bring it up. I didn't want my problems distracting him from his own life again – he had already helped so much and this was a battle I felt I could win on my own. I wanted to apologize, but to apologize would mean to bring up the conversation subject that would likely lead to him wanting to help. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. It wasn't until we had made it to the bus stop – fairly quickly despite the three blocks' distance – and sat at the very back did I speak.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, rubbing my face and internally pleading for my headache to disappear as soon as possible. "I didn't mean to get you into this mess."

Warren didn't say anything, simply meeting my eyes and giving me a look I couldn't decipher. I wasn't sure to take that as anger or pity, but either way I kept my mouth shut and waited for him to speak. As far as I could understand with Warren, it was simply a matter of waiting until he came around to speak. Everyone took him as some kind of villainous force that was bound to snap necks if someone talked to him, but no one even bothered to listen to what he had to say. The boy's intellect was extensive and the conversations - whilst sometimes short and abrupt - held depth and provided value for the listener. I had been lucky enough to be that listener for awhile now, and truly felt that if anyone even gave him a second chance instead of believing in the gossip that floated around their social circles, they would have discovered an incredible individual with a strong heart, capable of tremendous patience after years of torture as well as honesty and compassion. There was of course, the problem that after all of this shunning from the other students, Warren no longer wanted to be a part of anyone's circle and didn't let anyone in behind the brick wall he had built. I felt that it was everyone else's loss; I had made an excellent companion and intended on enjoying him all to myself.

"Do you remember what you told me?" He grimaced slightly as the bus began it's takeoff. I felt my heart rate pick up; it wasn't like me to say hurtful things whilst drunk, and since I had been close to blackout drunk yesterday I sincerely hoped that I hadn't said anything rude towards him.

"No," I admitted, covering my face in shame and groaned as the bus catapulted through the air. The nausea creeped back as the joyful yells of the other students – now used to the invigorating rides in the morning – filled the bus.

"Nevermind then!" Warren was forced to raise his voice as the bus's engines drowned him out and we barrel rolled through the sky. I was definitely going to puke once we got out of this hybrid metal contraption. The way the 'certified' bus drivers drove these mutant vehicles was preposterous, and I couldn't believe that Principle Powers still let us ride in these conditions. It was a wonder that everyone made it to school each morning; between the teleporters and the jet packs and the flying school buses I was shocked that no one crashed into each other in the sky

"If it was anything hurtful," I shouted as well, pushing down the vomit that was making it's way up my throat. "I'm really sorry!"

"It wasn't!" Warren yelled, shaking his head. I abandoned the subject, partially because the sickness in my stomach was overwhelming at this point and I wasn't going to get anything else out of him in this exact moment.

The bus finally leveled out, leaving me blanching and gasping for air as I gagged. I managed to keep the vomit down for five more minutes until the bus finally landed smoothly at Sky High, where I promptly vomited on the freshly cut grass a minute later. Warren assisted me to my first period and encouraged me that I would be fine despite my decreasing confidence that I could hold off more vomit. He ended up being wrong, and the rest of the day consisted of frequent trips to the girl's room as well as Nurse Spex's office to ask for more Tylenol. She chastised me for drinking, telling me that 'she could see the horrible things my liver was going through' and explained to me that she still hadn't figured out why my body wouldn't heal itself. I groaned at the terrible timing of it all; if anything, this would have been the prime moment to learn how to reverse the effects of my healing powers onto myself. I was sick of this hangover and wanted to feel normal again. The only positive thing that had come out of the day so far was the fact that I had picked up a pamphlet in the front office about Universities in the state, and discovered that I was eligible for a grant entitling me to a scholarship to a university because I was the first of my family to attend and needed financial support. This improved my mood a fair bit, but it decreased against when I vomited before lunch. There was also the small fact that I was still curious as to what drunken gibberish I had attacked Warren with last night, and why exactly he hadn't told me this morning. Had it really been that bad? These thoughts plagued me as I made my way to the bus at the end of the day, urging my stomach to stay strong and hoping that the small lunch I had managed to shove down my throat stayed down until I arrived safely at work.

"Elle," Warren greeted as he plopped down beside me on the idling bus. "Feeling any better?"

"Slightly," I muttered, face in my hands as I blocked out the light. "At least I don't feel like a soggy piece of bread anymore."

I got a small chuckle out of Warren at that, but ignored it in favor of questioning him about this morning's words. "So what did I say last night?"

Warren smile faded, and my heart leaped. He had told me that I hadn't said anything hurtful, but based on his demeanor it seemed like I had and this thought caused panic to wrack my brain. I didn't want to lose him as a friend; he was the only support I had that felt what I had been through and knew what to say to help me. He was a light in my life and I didn't want to allow anything to come in between that. I hadn't had any reason to stop drinking before – I didn't have anyone and anything and the alcohol made me forget my crappy life. But now that I was doing much better and had other things to look forward to and a friend to cling to, I didn't need to forget. In fact, the alcohol was now creating more problems instead of making me forget about them. I didn't want to lose the only thing I had because of alcohol, and it was then that I realized why people had halted their addiction with the liquid drug.

"You said I wasn't my father," Warren began, eyes flashing at the mention of Baron. "You said it didn't matter and that people shouldn't judge me because of that. You said I was a different man and that I was kind and patient. You said I was honest and wholesome and told me I knew right from wrong."

"I-I said all that?" I nearly whispered, eyes widening as I heard my own words in someone else's mouth. I hadn't expected my drunken mind to come up with such wonderful things to say to him, but he didn't seem all that thrilled that I had said them.

"You also said I was loving," Warren huffed, looking torn. I ignored that part, instead focusing on his expression. I was too focused on my drunken words to question my feelings for him at the moment; they were all scrambled anyway and I didn't want to push him away.

"So it wasn't anything bad?" I reiterated, frowning as I watched him shake his head side to side in confirmation and trying to understand why he was visibly shaken by my words. "Why the long face?"

It took him awhile to formulate a response, and he waited until the bus had taken off and began it's descent before he spoke.

"Because no one says those things to me except my mother," He bit on his thumbnail, a slight frown pulling on his facial features. "No one makes an effort to look past my father in me."

"Was I mistaken, then?" I pulled back, afraid that I had overstepped some boundary and that he was going to push away from here. "I'm sorry if I upset you – that definitely wasn't my intention. As drunk as I was, I'm not malicious or vindictive by nature, I promise."

"I know," He shook his head again. "And you didn't. You weren't mistaken; I was just surprised."

There were several more beats of silence as we avoided eye contact, and I noticed that the heat that rolled off of him was a lot stronger than usual. I didn't comment, however, and instead focused on the passing clouds as the bus continued it's descent into the mainland. Again, I wanted to let him speak first and have his piece before I apologized and continued to carry on the conversation. Warren always had something important to say, so when he spoke it wasn't to be taken lightly at all. Each one of his words had a purpose and it was clear that he thought deep and hard before he spoke. The first several stops passed by before Warren said anything again.

"You mean a lot to me Elle," He admitted, voice rumbling as he stared into nothing. The words resonated in me, and I found that the ball of affection in my stomach was growing with each of his confessions. "I haven't let anyone in in a long time – no one wants me. But it wasn't hard to get close to you, and you helped me just as much as I helped you."

"No one wanted me either," I mumbled, slumping as I thought about my old, horrid life. "You've done more for me than my own mother has and you're the only one who knows what I feel like. I hold a lot of feelings for you, and some of those came out yesterday. I hope they didn't come out wrong, and I'm sorry if they did."

The bus came to a stop with a screech, and we both realized that it was our turn to exit. We shared a short meaningful glance before hopping off the vehicle, and began the walk to the Paper Lantern. I didn't know what else to say to him; it was clear we both felt affectionate and caring towards each other but I wasn't sure I had sold him on the fact that I had truly meant those words. The fact that I had been drunk was one thing; it was bad enough that he had seen me in that condition and heard me say those things, but I had also said meaningful words and it was hard to take someone seriously when they were inebriated. I wanted to assure him and tell him how wonderful of a person he was – how much patience was required to live his life and how good of a job he was doing at following his own path instead of the one his father had tried to set for him. But I didn't know how to start that topic, so I took the time to think about it during my work shift. It was difficult to concentrate with Warren's eyes constantly on me and the customers continuously asking for refills, but I managed to think of what I would say to him when our shifts were over. I waited until he politely held the back door open for me when we had changed out of our uniforms, and then spoke whilst he was walking to his car and I around the building where the door to the apartments lay.

"Even if I was drunk," I started, wincing as I realized how bad that sounded as it slipped off my tongue. "I really meant it – I don't say things like that out of the blue."

He didn't say anything, so I took the chance and pressed on.

"I know you might not think that," I sighed, looking up at his six-foot-something figure in the dark and praying that he believed me. "But I really did mean it, and all of the feelings I have for you are good. You're a strong person who's held years of rejection and abuse inside of you and you don't deserve any of the shit you get."

We stopped in front of his car, but he didn't make a move to unlock it. He seemed to be caught in between thoughts as he leaned against the black vehicle and clenched his jaw. I let him think for a couple more moments, not wanting to interrupt any important thought process.

"I guess I didn't think you would say that," He admitted. "I feel horrible for saying this but I really thought you'd think worse of me."

"I like being around you," I couldn't stop the words from slipping out of my mouth. "I prefer to be close to you and you make me feel safe. You're not who anyone says you are – I wish more people could see that."

I met his eyes again and we simply stared for a moment before I smiled and watched his own expression do the same. I didn't really know what this moment was; we had reached some kind of conclusion for an event that I didn't know how to describe. I recognized the warm ball of light in my stomach, except this time it was growing and spreading all over my body – it overwhelmed me with feelings of ecstasy and affection, starting in my fingers and finding it's way to my toes. Then it made it's way back up to the top, tingling all the way to my cheeks. It was then that I realized I was blushing viciously, and became thankful for the darkness that shadowed the color on my face. The next occurrence, however, was nothing that I could have expected.

I could only muster an 'mmph!' of surprise as Warren's lips descended upon mine, and my arms flailed for a split second before they grasped onto his upper arms. His hand, gentle and and warm despite the chilly October air, grasped at the back of my head whilst the other placed itself at the small of my back. The warmth that had spread all over me was now pulsating to the rhythm of my heartbeat, which seemed to be growing faster by the second, and because of my distracted state it wasn't until he pulled away that I managed to draw a breath. His face was a split between panic and shock, mostly likely terrified of his brash action and of what my reaction would be.

"Shit," He didn't move as the word slipped out of his mouth. "I'm sorry – I'm sorry. I didn't think about that at all."

"No - it's okay," I breathed, still close to the pyrokinetic. "It's fine – that was..."

New. My brain suggested, but I didn't say anything. I had slept with so many uninterested men before who just wanted a casual fuck; partygoers in trashy neighborhoods who merely got together a large concentration of drug addicts and alcoholics so that they could find a partner for the night and then boot them out when the neighbors complained. I had gotten used to the sway of things that somehow I had forgotten about the simple pleasures in life, like receiving a kiss. This small act, which I had considered so unnecessary and in the way before, had re-installed itself in my life and taught me again. So by my head's theory, this was in fact new. I was learning it again – I was learning to trust and care and live again. I needed time to grow close and feel affection, and with Warren I didn't feel any kind of uncertainty or rush.

"Wonderful," I finished, finding the right word. "That was wonderful – you're wonderful."

It was the night of Homecoming, and I was about to throw up in nervous fear.

Layla had convinced me to meet her at her house before the bus picked us up to fly to the school, which meant that I had to cut my shift short at the Paper Lantern to get ready for the whole event and bus ten neighborhoods over to her lavish house in an equally lavish neighborhood. It was uncomfortable enough getting on the bus all dressed up, but walking through the neighborhood in heels that I definitely wasn't accustomed to was all the more discomforting. All of this simply made my stomach twist further into a knot, despite the rush I got thinking about seeing Warren again. I hadn't spoken to him yesterday; he hadn't been at school or work since our moment in the parking lot and I was concerned not only for his safety but also for his emotions. I was worried that perhaps a boundary had been breached and that now he wanted to shut me out instead of let me in behind his strong brick wall. I was afraid of rejection again, but I didn't want to shy away from the answer. I shoved these thoughts down as I rung Layla's doorbell, and was greeted with a shriek of surprise when it was opened. It was Layla, in her bathrobe with half a head of hair done and her makeup done.

"You're READY?!" She yelped, ushering me inside and shutting the door.

"Well yeah," I muttered, raising a brow at her antics. "I wasn't just gonna bring all my stuff here."

"Well at least let me do your makeup!" Layla insisted, pulling me up the stairs where Magenta was already sitting on the bed applying eyeliner. "I can't believe it Mag, she got ready without us."

"She put on her dress Layla," Magenta droned, starting with her mascara. "I'd hardly say that's scream worthy."

"Well," Layla grumbled, disappearing into her walk in closet where she pulled on her own dress. "I wanted to do the whole thing together."

"We are doing the whole thing together," Magenta assured, sitting me down in front of Layla's boudoir and beginning to apply eyeliner. I hadn't bothered with any makeup since I hadn't had a lot of time between cutting my shift short and changing into my dress before heading to Layla's, so my face was currently chemical free. I didn't protest against Magenta applying anything else; she blobbed on blush and gloss on my lips as well as curled my lashes before letting Layla apply eyeliner and mascara. I felt like I was in a whole new world; I didn't use anything except for eyeliner and the result on my face was wondrous – it was understandable why some girls took so long to do their makeup now. The results truly payed off, but it was too tedious for me to do day to day.

"Wow," I mumbled, looking closer at myself in the mirror. "Thanks guys – what about my hair?"

"No problem," Magenta shrugged, smirking as she and Layla finished their own faces and put on their shoes. "Your hair is bomb as fuck, so we didn't have to do anything with it."

"Are you sure?" I grimaced, eyeing the long locks of black that reached the middle of my back. My hair had seemed to plain and boring for so long, I wasn't sure that it matched the rest of my outfit.

"Your natural hair is stunning," Layla assured, placing a hand on my shoulder and causing me to regard my dark hair in a different light. "Warren's going to think you're beautiful."

"What?!" I flipped around to gape at her, and my eyes widened as she covered her mouth as if she had exposed a giant secret. There was no way that she could have seen the events of the night before yesterday, so why the hell would she say something like that? "W-why – why did you say that?"

"Layla wasn't supposed to say that!" Magenta gave her red haired friend a little smack upside the head before zipping up her combat boots. "And now she has to explain."

"I'm so sorry," Layla placed a hand on her chest, sympathy coating her features. "We weren't going to say anything but it slipped out! We've been watching you guys since we started sitting at your table."

"What?" My face must have been a mask of horror and humiliation, because they both began to assure me that it wasn't made a huge deal. It wasn't my feelings for Warren that was the cause of my humiliation here; it was the fact that they had obviously been on display for an entire two months despite my efforts to keep them under wraps. I didn't want me feelings and personal thoughts open for everyone to read like a book – I liked to think that I was a fairly discreet person, but I had clearly been wrong – and that upset me.

"It was just cute to watch," Magenta shook her head, helping Layla into her heels. "Watching you guys flirt and stuff – just harmless."

"Oh come on Eleanor," Layla pushed. "Everyone can see it – he's never opened up like that to anyone before. Warren doesn't do that."

"I know that," I placed a hand on my forehead. "I just didn't know everyone was watching."

"It was no one but me and Mag," Layla shook her head, clasping her hands together. "We didn't tell anyone anything."

"I guess that kind of makes you guys a pair of creeps," I sighed, trying to find humor in the situation upon realization that their spying was harmless and reveling in their relieved chuckles. A year ago, perhaps, I would have fled from this home and stayed in my room crying the whole night, but I was determined to change and convinced myself that bonding with others and building trust with more than one person was good for me.

After a short dispute over whether or not Magenta was truly going to wear her combat boots to a formal dance, it was agreed upon that she was allowed to express herself in whichever way she wanted to, and with a final huff we all exited the large home to wait at the bus stop conveniently located at the end of the street. I nearly exploded with jealousy upon sight of it – Layla already had looks, smarts and money to back herself up – but a conveniently located bus stop was just the icing on the cake. I managed not to blow my cool, however, and concentrated on not falling over in my ridiculous heels before we boarded the bus. It was strange to see so many eyes trained on me at once, before I realized they were staring at my skin – my tattoos. It took a small shove from Magenta to keep walking down the isles and ignore all of the looks, but I managed to choose a seat near the back of the bus and avoid eye contact for the rest of the ride despite my friend's attempts to start a conversation. The stares made me uncomfortable, and I was starting to doubt my dress choice. My tattoos were meant to be a message for me, and I wasn't used to sharing them with other people. Whilst I was working on being a confident individual, I had hidden the important messages inked on my skin all my life, and unveiling them was a big step for me. They were personal pieces to me, and although in all technicality it would be silly for me to care about mothers'opinions on them, I was concerned of what I looked like on the outside.

I willed myself to think of something else as to avoid being dragged away by my thoughts, and instead looked around the vehicle. The bus was decked out in blue and orange – the school's signature colors – which gave me something to look at as we barrel rolled through the sky and continued our ascent towards the flying school. I briefly wondered if Warren was going to come at all; Layla had obviously given up on Will and I wasn't sure if Warren had the incentive to go anymore, but with my red haired friend's comment back at her house I was hopeful that I was some reason for him to attend the event. I had never turned down a chance to spend more time with him, so I hoped that he thought the same for me.

We landed at Sky High was several rough bumps, causing some of the girls to check their hair before clacking down the stairs and thanking the bus driver for the ride. There were other buses arriving, with a steady stream of people already flowing into the school and I found my chest tightening as I gazed out the window to stare at some of the students. It was nerve wracking to know that the entire school – plus parents and whoever else was invited to this damn homecoming – were all going to be crowded in a room with blaring music and heavy lighting. Despite Save the Citizen and the school's cafeteria becoming ingrained in my lifestyle, I still wasn't used to crowds. Besides, no one brought an extra plus two wherever they went, and it was obvious that a lot of people's parents were here including all of the teachers. It was weird, and I was beginning to ponder the idea of taking a shuttle bus home.

"Eleanor?" Layla's voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I looked up to find my two friends waiting for me. We were the only ones left on the bus, and by the looks of it the bus driver wanted us off. I scampered to follow them, and took a large gulp as we joined the crowd of people. I was avoiding stares the minute I came into view, and could hear whispers behind my back. What they were saying about me, on the other hand, I couldn't decipher.

"Ethan!" Layla called out her friend's name as we breached the building door's and followed the crowd towards the gym. The boy, clad in an orange tuxedo – all of these kids seemed to hop straight out of a crayola box – turned to smile towards us and joined us in line.

"You all look great," He smiled awkwardly, not wanting to give too much of a compliment but wanting to be nice at the same time. It was a strange feeling, but I somehow understood his freshman struggle. "Have you seen Zack?"

"No," Magenta perked up at the mention of her interest (that much was clear to me) and peeked around the crowded corridor. "Where is he?"

"Went to the bathroom – thought you would have spotted him," Ethan laughed. "His tux is amazing!"

Zack appeared seconds later, speak of the devil, in a bright white and yellow tux. It was mesmerizing to look at – I wondered how the hell he had found such an article of clothing before reminding myself that retro clothing stores existed and that Zack most likely frequented them often. Magenta let a bright smile shine on her face, and I caught Layla looking around the halls for what I presumed was either Will or Warren. Either or, at this point, didn't really matter to her. After the havoc and stress that the party had caused her, I wasn't surprised that she didn't want that kind of drama in her life anymore. We all proceeded into the gym moments later after complimenting each other on our ability to clean up, and found the dance was already in full swing and people everywhere. My heart sped up as I gazed around the brightly lit room; there were white and blue balloons everywhere as well as star shaped lights and disco balls hanging on the ceiling. A lifted pedestal on a small stage adorned the front of the gym, bearing the school's logo and sporting a small microphone. I had seen – on the posters spread about the school in the past two weeks – and heard of an award that was meant to be given out tonight. It was meant to be something about the most successful alumni of the school, but I was certain that it was going to be turned into some kind of dramatic fiasco knowing supers.

"Eleanor," Zack began, striking up a conversation and distracting me from my curious gazing around the gym. "I was gonna say – your tattoos are pretty amazing."

"Thank you!" I let a shy smile take over my face – the compliments and moral boosters that I got from my friends were always nice, and I appreciated them very much.

"Elle?" A much deeper, familiar voice from behind me caused me to flip around, and I was greeted with the shocking sight of Warren wearing a full tuxedo – shoes included.

"Warren?" I quipped back, letting my mouth fall open slightly at the sight of him in a tuxedo. I hadn't imagined him in any sort of formal dress before, but the black and white formal wear complimented his form and although I was reluctant to admit how sexy it looked on him, I had to say something. "Christ – you clean up good, Peace."

It was then that he shot me a drop-dead full out grin, showing off a set of straight white teeth and causing me to grin right back. Warren didn't show off his smile very often; I was lucky enough to see it because of our closeness, but it was nice to see it outside of private time. It showed development in his people skills and attitude; he was caring less and less about coming off as a closed off individual and had even grown slightly closer with a freshman group he would have probably steered clear away from at the beginning of the year. In two months, Warren was changing his thinking process and how he behaved, and I was proud to say the same for myself as well. It felt like we had accomplished a fair bit together in a short time span; it felt like we were growing and I wouldn't have wanted to do it with anyone but Warren now that I had gotten to know him.

"Same goes for you Elle," His eyes raked over each and every piece of ink on my skin, as well as my dress and heels. "Look at those shoes."

"I know!" I stuck out a foot, holding onto the table for support. "They're like death traps – you might have to carry me out of here by the end of the night."

"I wouldn't mind that," He admitted, causing me to blush and smile even further. I no longer felt uncomfortable – with Warren here my stomach was at peace and my mind was at ease despite the slight butterflies he gave me.

"Where were you yesterday?" I asked him, frown pulling at my lips. I had been worried – worried about his safety, first and foremost, but also worried about his feelings. I put aside the playful conversation to question him about it, watching his features for any differences at the mention of his father.

"I took the day off and went to see my dad," He explained, crossing his arms as he kept his expression the same. "In solitary – had to tell him I was renting his tux."

"Did he take it well?" I kept the conversation light, not wanting to question about what else they had spoken about. Warren shook his head, telling me that he would explain later and going to grab a drink of water. The kiss from two days ago wasn't brought up either, but I said nothing. We were in the middle of a large group of people and I was sure that he was going to want to talk about it more later when we were in private.

"I thought you weren't going to rent a tux!" Layla frowned as she spotted him from a couple feet away, a curious smile lining her lips.

"It's my dad's," Warren explained, still eyeing me and letting the smile linger on his face for a little longer. "He doesn't have much use for it in solitary."

"Oh..." Layla pulled back at his comment, and offered him a cheese cube as a truce. He took it, holding it awkwardly before offering it to me once Layla had turned back to her conversation with Magenta. I accepted it with a smile, munching on it and discarding the stick on the long white table. It was then that the greeting process began – Principle Powers had spotted the Commander and Jet Stream in the crowd and beckoned them forwards, causing the entire gym to erupt in cheers. Powers, clad in a surprising outfit consisting entirely of black, made an announcement about the owner of a 'blue cold fusion powered jet pack' leaving their lights on before continuing to welcome Gwen Grayson – who donned a hideous poofy dress – to the stage. The drama queen grinned and took the podium over, basking in the applause before speaking.

"Thank you Principle Powers," Gwen chirped, putting the award on the podium and continuing to speak. "And a very special thank you goes to our guests of honor, and the recipients of our first ever 'Hero Of The Year' award; the Commander and Jet Stream!"

There was more applause and clapping, and I spotted both Boomer and Mr. Boy wearing sullen facial expressions whilst indulging on food. Gwen continued, a smirk sitting on her face as if she knew a secret no one else did.

"And to mark this occasion, we've planned a special tribute to the most powerful super being ever to walk the halls of Sky High," She trailed off, stepping away from the podium and gripping her dress oddly. It was here that I began to sense something ominous about her tone, and found my assumptions correct when I heard her shout. "ME!"

Well, shit.