Disclaimer: I don't own "House of Anubis" in anyway.

Author's Note: Anyone from the UK, could you try taping "Anubis Unlocked" for us American fans? We would definitely owe you one!

Dinner had been prepared. Warm roasted chicken and cool pumpkin spice pie wafted through the air. The atmosphere was usual: Alfie and Jerome childishly bugging the girls, Fabian, Patricia and Nina discussing some top-notched secret no one besides Amber and Alfie knew, which incidentally was more than half of the house members. Mick and Mara, as usual were off in a corner, the one specific corner Jerome forced his eyes away from but jealousy was bipolar. It couldn't decide whether to watch and hate, or avoid and fume.

"Supper's ready, children," Trudy sang out. Funny how the seats filled up fast...as if it mattered who they sat by, giving each and every one a feeling of longing. At each head of the table sat Alfie and Amber, Amber being between Nina and Mick, who sat by Mara, sitting by Jerome. On the opposing side Fabian sat by Nina and on his other side, Patricia, next to Alfie. Supper was quiet, glances were stolen to and fro. Mild conversation was formed but unlike other days, it seemed forced—unnatural.

"Be a dear, Mara and pass the salt?" Jerome muttered, taking another of his usual inhales of Mara's scent beside him. She looked at him with oddity.

"It's right there, Jerome. Get it yourself," she counteracted. Mick did not seem pleased earlier upon his arrival about any activity she had done with Jerome and she didn't need to fuel his somewhat hot temper.

"I would," his lips curled into a half-smile, "but my hands..." he grabbed his chicken piece so that the oil layered on his hands, "are quite messy!" She half-screamed, half-laughed in surprise as Jerome laughingly tried getting his dirty hands on her, leaning away as far back from him as possible.

"Jerome," Trudy called out from the kitchen. "Mind your manners, please."

With nearly the whole table still busting up in laughter—Jerome's act now having inspire Alfie to play with his own chicken, Mick narrowed his eyes, wary of Jerome's behaviour.

"Mara, wanna spend some time together after dinner?" Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jerome stiff up. He knew how he affected him.

"Of course, Mick. Do you have to ask?" she beamed, grabbing her napkin and leaning forward, wiping his lips with love.

Jerome's glare hadn't gone unnoticed.

"So what's with you and Clarke?"

Mara frowned—Mick's forcefulness into her affairs were becoming more and more frequent. Supper had been cleared by Fabian and Nina—who knows if it helped their crushes on each other a little bit more, for both were to dense to notice, it appeared. With Fabian out, Mara sat on Mick's bed as Mick paced about..

"What, Jerome? Nothing," she slowly smiled. She had to admit, sometimes it did please her when he grew a bit jealous—somehow she liked him more and more because of that. "He's just been helping me with—"

"Yeah yeah, I know," the mattress corner went down a little as Mick took a seat near Mara, "the campaign, but Babe, he couldn't keep his eyes off during supper now, could he?"

"What?" she began to laugh, as if it were his hilarious punch line to some brilliant joke. Her laughter had no affect on his blank glance. "We've just been talking more," she explained, her hands motioning as body language, "especially when you were in America, that's all," she offered him a reinforcing smile.

"Just talking?" he grimaced, giving her a look that just shouted 'mm-hmm' mockingly.

"Hey guys," Patricia forced her way into the room, surprised that her Sibuna gang was not there and instead, finding a mushy scene between Mara and her boyfriend. "Uh, where're the others?" she looked around, as if she believe they'd be spotted under the beds or against the ceiling. "Uh, never mind," she interrupted herself before the other two could speak. "You two have fun making out or whatever you're doing. Don't mind me!" And with that, she banged the door shut. After a few silent seconds, Mick and Mara burst into laughter, at Patricia's uncomfortableness just now.

Shaking his head, he continued the conversation. "But Mara, I'm pretty sure the two of you talk more than just politics."

"Uh..." she looked down, her lips slightly parted as she remembered on of her most recent conversations with Jerome that pertained to his parents. Mick's eyebrow raised.

"You have secrets? With him?"

The moment was getting more uncomfortable by the second; inside, she squirmed. "Mick, it's not something you share lightly."

"Gosh," his eyes rolled upward sarcastically, "I'm so pleased you have a boyfriend you trust so much, telling him of all people, before—"

"Mick, it's his secret," she laughed at what was almost the start of miscommunication. Hoping Jerome wouldn't mind if Mick kept his secret along with herself, she sighed, her voice soft and strict. "You have to promise not to tell—"

"Promise," Mick's right hand was up and raised to his chest, earning him a smile.

"His parents dropped him in boarding school when he was 5 years old."

Mick couldn't find a problem with this—he shrugged. "Yeah, so? I've been dropped when I was 12."

"Ye don't understand. That's the only time he's last seen them."

This astounded Mick, his eyes beginning to show clarity. "Wha—, they've never stopped by or had him for summer holidays?"

She shook her head.

It was all beginning to make sense as Mick's eyes narrowed. "You mean to say he's had no contact with his parents for ten years. Not a letter, not a single letter?" Amber's way of speech had certainly rubbed off on him, Mara was aware of that, smiling inside as she got on her feet.

"I don't know the details, Mick, but I think that could explain why he acts like this all the time. You know, classic jokester syndrome having hidden emotions—he has that similar complex."

Snorting at her vernacular, Mick chuckled. "Emotions? Are we talking about the same Jerome?"

"Not funny, Mick."

"Well don't you have his best interest at heart?" he laughed, taking her hand that was meant to hit him softly in the stomach but instead, he held onto it.

"What?"

"Jerome this, Jerome that," he gave a poor imitation of Mara in a high voice, leading Mara to laugh.

"Say that to Patricia, why don't you! She thinks I do that with you all the time!"
"Really?" he grinned brightly, pulling her hand closer to his chest, the two standing within 4 inches to each other. Blushing, she looked straight into his sapphire eyes, tossing their joined hands like a wave a little.

"Really."

The cupcakes were ready. Today was the final day—Mara against Amber against Amelia. It was a shoo-in that Amelia would barely receive votes but today nevertheless—it was war.
"Mick, would you help me carry these cupcakes over to the school, please?" Ears perked, Jerome whipped the magazine he was reading down and jumped at the moment at Mara's words.

"Let me help you for that," he chided but Mara waved him away.

"That's far alright, Mick can do it."

Drawing his hands back to his side from the cupcake tray, Jerome narrowed his eyes in thought. "Good, now...," Mara breathed out softly to herself, "7 more wraps needed." Within the next few minutes, she had finished decorating the cupcakes with frosting and had 8 trays fully wrapped. Sniffing the appealing aroma of the cupcakes before the last tray was wrapped, Mara was surprised to find Jerome still silent beside her. "W-what?" she laughed.

"They're my cupcakes..." he childishly pouted, causing her to laugh even louder as he exited the kitchen door shaking his head. A deep sigh formed from within as he took slow strides towards his bedroom, his eye catching a glance of Mick rocking out to the rock song roaring straight into his ears. And soon a smirk was formed as Jerome leaned forward, shutting Mick's door closed.

It would all end in a few hours: The moment of who would prevail as school representative was come all too fast. As nerdy as it looked and appeared, the title was worth so much more between Mara and Amber. Especially after Mara calculated her chance of success: If the population wouldn't count on her actual speech and her projected services, she could really only count on the votes of her few friends and few classmates who hopefully understood how right her campaign was. Everything for her was an equation: Sure, words and bribes of cupcakes only got you so far-in the end, it was all about the people you knew. And well...she wasn't lying at all when she told Patricia previously she wasn't as skilled for talking—it was Amber who always made friends instantly for her talent of converse. She shook the foreboding thoughts away as she stacked the last of the trays on top of one another.

"Mick," she called out, hoping her voice would reach from the kitchen past through their room door and to her sweetheart's ears. With her back to the door, she lifted however many trays of stored cupcakes she could, limited her sight.

Heavy footsteps entered into the kitchen as Mara let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, Boo. I was about to ask Trudy for help!" her voice was muffled as the trays began to slide, pressing her mouth closed.

The grunt opposite to her was answer enough while the boy lifted the rest of the five trays as the two walked out the house and towards the main school.

As the walk continued, the air between them felt modest, in control, unchanged. Usually Mick couldn't stand the quiet and was always making small talk but it was time like this when she appreciated the silence between them.

"This is nice," she smiled, as the sun had set on the British plains finally after a month. After the usual atmosphere of fog and rain, the grass was bright green—small creatures could be seen playing around the ground flowers and landscape. She remembered a specific bird's tune she had once heard as a child and tried waiting silently to hear it—she never did hear it after that one time, no matter how hard she tried. After a few minutes, she gave up on her feat, differentiating all the birds' pitch of tweets.

"Anything on your mind, M—" she began to say.

"Mara!" she heard her name being called from behind her...as the boy ahead holding the cupcakes softly cursed. Running towards her was...Mick...all out of breath, with his hair tousled by the wind, sweat clinging to his school uniform. With eyes stunned, she lowered her trays to gain full sight, slowly turning towards her cupcake-carrier helper. Why hadn't she noticed before...

"You're not Mick," she softly called out., with Mick finally having approached them at this time.

"Well of course is he isn't," Mick panted, waving his dress shirt away from his body for some of the cool breeze to access through. "Mara—why did y'go on without me? I told you I'd get the rest of 'em. What'd you need Jerome's help for?"

"Jerome?" she stated monotonously, her expression blank. Quaintly, the boy lowered his tray in innocent presentation, his expression of not knowing what was going on.

"Care to explain why you're stealing my girlfriend away, Clarke?" Mick stated firmly.

"Not stealing. Helping," he mildly smiled, his eyes twinkling as he shrugged. "You were too busy listening to your music, thought I'd help my candidate."

Within moments, Campbell was chest to chest with Jerome, minus the cupcakes that stood in between. Sensing the arrival of an argument that could just led on to something physical, Jerome narrowed his eyes, apprehended. "I'm her campaign manager—" he scowled down, his eyes turning cold on him.

"I'm her boyfriend," the shorter of the blonds raised his voice, the two blue eyes locking onto each other. Both could sense the loathing they felt for one another, neither would give in to Mara's whines from the side. "And," Mick quietly said, loud enough for Mara to hear, "I love her."

The bullet was shot. Both Mara and Jerome starred at Mick, one seeing his words as truth the other as deceit. In defeat, Jerome lowered his head slowly as the tray was snatched from him. "And I'll be taking that. C'mon, Mars," Mick pressured, the two walking away as Mara followed behind obediently, her demeanour still in a daze.

"You quiet, babes," Mick smiled uneasily, trying to compensate for his earlier behaviour not moments ago. As some teachers were setting up the microphones and tables, students weren't allowed to enter into the auditorium until later. Luckily an empty room across was found for all nominees to leave their items needed for the competition. "What's on your mind?" he asked as they set the cupcakes down on a table in the classroom for now.

Silence answered him as Mara gathered her thoughts since Mick's last words before now. It was hard to form any coherent thought really but she gave it a try, peering into his eyes...those warm beautiful tropical water blueness. Yes, Jerome's were blue—timeless as if she had sunk into an abyss, lost in a foreign world but Mick's was familiar—a retreat.

"You love me?" she whispered as Mick chuckled, staring her full in the eyes.

"Yeah..." he took her hands in his, tracing over her soft skin. And with that, a kiss was sealed.

Though the campaign was an hour away, Mrs. Andrews had given the nominees and helpers granted leaves to set up for the awaited competition. It was something her father had taught her to always be early, and that's what she did as she entered into the hall where the occurrence would take place...only to find her manager had beaten her to it, taping her posters on the stage.

She took a moment to process the whole thing out—she did feel rather horrible for not being able to spend more time with Jerome, especially for the expense of his own well being. Since Mick's entrance, Jerome had at once distanced himself away. But this was Mick Campbell, for Pete's sake, her crush from many years on. Maybe she was blowing off Jerome but her emotions were just too hormone-crazed to do what was right. With Mick, everything seemed right. Cliché, she knew but—

"You going to help for your own campaign or not?" a rough voice slit her digression.

"Um, just admiring your poster," she beamed. She had to admit, Jerome's graphic design skills were amazing—she praised the way Jerome had created her image into a sense of beauty and inspiration. Really, she couldn't imagine what had inspired him to draw her out that way.

Grabbing the rest of the posters, a light hum played from her lips, a song she had not heard since she was ten or eleven. After the loneliness that was inept with being sent to boarding school on her own, she had spent her free time at the piano, composing this song. Every few weeks, when she found herself at the piano, even up to this day, she would add better improving as another layer to the original song. The notes came easily from her lips, like reflex, like from a once-uncovered memory that fell off from the sides of the earth as adolescence kicked in—and along with that, other emotions. But nevertheless, she had written this song to illuminate innocence, to portray ignorance to adult affairs as one lived in a realm of their own imagination.

Unbeknownst, the boy slightly turned his head to watch her on his right—to witness the peace in her naïve eyes apprehended with joy in her heart. It saddened him.

"What a memorable day for you," he muttered. Mara looked up to him in surprise, confused.

"W-what?"

Shrugging, he turned back his work, his sight faced against the wall as he continued stapling. "First Mick declaring his consolidated love to you and now gaining the prestigious honour of school representative."

For a moment, she was worried. The look on Jerome's face she knew all too well seemed to apprehend defiance...a need for something not his own. Usually his sarcasm would had shown some sort of sign ...but he was good at hiding, she had learned his severalty.

"Yeah, I guess so—," a smiled played on her lips, trying to lighten things up.

"Except—" he waspishly cut in, staring at her eye to eye, "It's not true."

There it was. She was afraid of this.

"Jerome," she softly evinced, trying to get him to understand. "He loves me."

"After just two weeks, Mara. Really?" he hissed, his eyes bright with knowledge. "And how long's he been with Amber?" he retaliated as she walked scornfully to the other side to bring her cupcakes. "A year?"

"Well," her teeth was clenched as she avoided looking towards his direction as he followed, "he's never told Amber that now, has he?" she argued, a small whine in her voice. But neither could say it was false.

"You don't know that," his voice was small.

"I KNOW," she snapped, looking him hard in the eyes, "that this doesn't affect you of any kind."

Neither could let this go as their eyes locked. There it was again—the heavily depressing blueness in his eyes, embarked by the sullenness of his face, shadowed by his bangs.

"Mara," his voice rippled, trying to be steady. It took his strength to force his voice to not raise and even then, it slipped. "He's using you."

She jaw-dropped, unable to believe the situation. "How dare you!"

He continued on despite her shocked gasp as he placed a firm grasp on her shoulders. "You're brilliant at science and he's not so great at anything really, yeah? J-just listen to me," he quickly pleaded before her defence was thrown in. "Along with being..." he couldn't hide his emotion as the word emitted from his mouth like some bitter unwanted food, "boyfriend-girlfriend, you always study together. Be smart, Mara, analyse this," he clenched his teeth, his back bent to go down to her approximate height. "Think with your head, not your heart—!"

"—No!" she shouted, pushing him away, her eyes beseeched. "Jerome, I'm sick of analysing facts and using my head, thinking I'm too geeky, that no one likes me. Do you know how it is to feel alone?" Before Jerome could say anything in awe of her not remembering his past, she finished. "He loves me," she repeated, quickly realizing now it was her only justification and not a very dependable one.

"And his parents love you even more." That was implausible to her...Nothing had to be said because they both knew it was true. Despite how friendly Mr. and Mrs. Campbell were, as doctors, they deemed their son's prestige in terms of his academics, even if had agreeing to Mick's interest in athletics. Jerome hadn't meant to say it...but if Mara could help it, she wouldn't listen to him unless it was about her own situation and not his...

"You're wrong," she whispered, her voice cracked, trauma in her eyes, her mind wanting to make her words seem more homelier to her.

"Mara," he grew close to her again, his arms gently on hers, "your crush on him has been blinding you for so long...you can't even blatantly see who else might possibly like you. Let me help you, Mara—"

"And who does possibly like me for the geek I am?" her voice had never been so possibly stinging. "Name one who could ever—"

"I do..." he clenched his teeth, their eyes on each other like lock and key—abruptly, everything was clear over the last few days what had gone between them. He hadn't meant to come off so strongly but it had just escaped. The damage to his ego was already done—he might as well keep feeding it the toxins. "For months, years even, I've been fond of you despite knowing all you could ever see was Mick. And then Mick left and I gathered I had a chance and I still believe I have a chance, Mara," she could see his plead in his eyes as Mara hopelessly watched and listened, dumbfounded. "Let me show you that there's more to life than just Mick and books, please, Mara," he whispered, his face now dangerous close. Having just realized that Jerome was merely inches away from her, all will was lost. Unconsciously she found herself stepping up on her toes and tilting her head up and Jerome had equally moulded his lips onto hers. It wasn't like Mick's because with Mick, it was warm, everything was blended into heat. Kissing Jerome though...nothing of the sorts happened—in fact, the opposite happened. She wasn't overwhelmed by heat but enhanced by the coolness, able to pinpoint exactly every part of her body that was electrified—the coldness of the wall reaching through her blouse and whole backside, every bump and line on Jerome's hand pressing on her warm skin, unconstitutionally, she pressed her body more into his, her every curve lock and key onto his own front, his hand groping her hair ecstatically. She could honestly say she had never been this pleasured in life...this new divine feeling...

"Mara..." Nor had she been more frightful in her life. The whisper was on her right. There standing aghast, having witnessing such a betrayal was Mick. Mick. After her stimulating kiss with Jerome, her thoughts were as if faster than speed of time. Within the few seconds she had peered at her boyfriend, she imagined what consequences would derive from this illicit splurge of lust. Before her mind, she thought of her image being broken as everyone saw to her as a paramour, as a two-timer. Mick and Amber and perhaps even the whole of the house except for Jerome would never forgive her and her parents...if they ever knew how she had slipped...there was only one way out of this...she only hoped Jerome would forgive her in the end...

And then and there, as the two parted lips, feeling Jerome's hard breathing on her cheek, trailing down her neck, she shoved him off against her body...catching his riveting eyes...

...she slapped him...The startling blow pushed him farther back than usual, allowing her to escape past and run towards Mick's stone arms. She couldn't understand why she started sobbing, gasping for breath. Confusion was an ever darker betrayal.

"Mick," she cried, biting her lip as his cold glare laid upon her. "Mick, he forced himself on me...I-I didn't...I c-couldn't do an-anything...he's such...a-an o-oppressor..."

All too soon, she found Mick's arms warm up to her as he hugged her tightly, causing her eyes to sting as a stream of tears catalysed the corners of her eyes. Poor Mick...to not know her disloyalty. Consumption of air burned her air-pipe as she felt as if she were hyperventilating but right now air was incomparable to Mick's trust in her at this moment...As soon as she had gotten used to her head on his shoulder, he left, turning his back on her as his eyes locked onto Jerome, who still leaned limply against the table, cheek red and flaming with pain. But worst of all—and Mara couldn't notice, for she couldn't let herself meet his glance—were his eyes...the spacious lost look hidden by his shadows of Mara's treachery to not just him but to her own self.

"You," Mick stated icily, a step closer to each word he said. "You rotten son of a dog!" he roared, his clamped fists thrashing onto Jerome's cheekbones who did nothing. "Fancy Mara, do you, git?"

"Stop!" the girl threw herself onto Mick's back, gaining control of his struggling arms. "Mick, please," she sobbed, her palms on his face forcing her to see her and only her. "Let's just get out, please."

"Stay away from her, you hear?" She could feel Mick's arm shake furiously within her grasp as it took all her power holding him steady and trying to pull him out the door. "Next time I catch you even near—"

"Mick," she whispered rapidly as one by one, students began appearing into the room for the election to start, "Mick—leave him. He doesn't need any more of th—"

"—and you'll have to answer to me," he shouted, his voice escalating as Jerome's gaze was translucent, looking towards the floor. He hadn't moved one centimetre willingly after the slap.

Once out the door, life stood still for a moment as their mentality tried recovering from what just happened. Suddenly Mick threw a grunt, kicking the lockers on the side malignantly. "Eugh, can you believe that creep! I friggin'—"

"Mick!" she cried, tears welling up already after the momentary decease. With a foul mood, he couldn't care less...and yet he couldn't care more that on his girlfriend's lips were that of the slimeball's. His breathing slowed down as he calmed himself. He would get back at Jerome...within his mind, he was already plotting but this wasn't the moment. Catching her moist eyes, her quiet sniffle, Mick rolled his eyes, leaning up against her to offer a comforting hug which she embraced graciously. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you to stop him..." his voice was soft as he cupped her chin to look at him. She however couldn't keep her eyes constant on his, for the case that maybe he would see something she didn't want him getting any closer to. "You're gonna win this thing. You know you will, Mara-culous, don'tcha?" he smiled a meek smile, repeating his first nickname ever given to her as she took a deep breath, returning the smile. And once again she felt the heat of his lips on her as he enclosed her within himself, making it the most passionate he had ever commit to before...as if to erase the previous one on Mara's lips right now...

The election was nearly halfway over and yet Jerome still sat in the opposite empty classroom to the theatre stage...his mind was numb, his cheek aflammed and starting to purple up. There was no will to move, no heart to care what was going on—oh yes, he could hear Mara's voice amplified by the microphone—he couldn't notion being in the same room with her...with Mick...with people who could barely care for his presence. And yet what's done was done—he had kissed her, wanting to know if her feelings, though mostly taken with Mick, had any room for him in her heard and he had sensed it—she wanted it, needed it. Hadn't she lied though to protect herself at the sacrifice of his somewhat-prestige? Wasn't it her who went back to Mick and yet unable to look at either one of the boys in the eyes? What else could be done? Was he ready to give up all hope on trust others? To resort to some contemptible jerk who betrayed everyone's secrets if they formed their own secrets at his demise? Was he really that weak?

Maybe...just maybe...

Glass houses aren't always to keep the people with secrets out. Sometimes they were built to tantalize the outsiders from coming, despite their own secrets shared with a person on the inside, who never looked back. And then sometimes the insiders always looked back...because of the outsider's secret they shared.