Time passed, and Horwell started his ramble, freezing with a grin as he realized Link would be stuck with the older teenager for the rest of the semester. The science teacher – not that he was much of a competent teacher in the first place for science- told the class that they must find out as much as possible out about the other person sitting beside them and Ghirahim smirked. He turned at the prospect of taking him apart and finding out how they ticked, precisely how he mentioned he liked getting to know other people when he introduced himself to the two new brats. Link was going to be fun to fuck up.

"So, your name is Link, and you're sixteen years old." Ghirahim had a sheet of paper out and writing the way a gossip columnist takes down gossip, except he was taking down only the facts. "Doesn't appear to be wealthy, Clothes are plain and are rumpled; clearly they've been worn more than once this week. Very slight wrinkling under the eyelids; a good sleeper. A small frown, though hardly more than a crease between the eyebrows. Seems nervous, understandable in my presence. His friends have told him about me, and he worries." He looked him over and jotted down what he could take down, figuring out this boy like a puzzle, and it was so fun, he was so open and he let off more clues about himself than he let on.

"Left-handed. Doesn't play an instrument –a shame- but spends a considerable amount of time playing… video games, wasn't that what you told Horwell?" Ghirahim's eyes flicked down to Link's hands, grinning as he continued to take him apart brick by brick. He grinned as the other opened his mouth much like a fish when it was taken out of water.

"There's no way you can do that," He spluttered and Ghirahim's grin only seemed to get wider, he liked this boy, he liked him quite a bit and it had only been a little while. Maybe he could be the one to keep me focused on what's real… Ghirahim thought quickly. "That's just... How?"

"Simple," Ghirahim interrupted both him and his train of thoughts, derailing them at the station. "I did say I liked getting to know people, didn't I?"

He scrawled some more things and made a point with the last word to lift his hand and he noted that Link had seen such a word.

Unobservant.

"My turn," Link muttered, giving him a sharp glare and Ghirahim had to laugh.

"Such a nasty look you're giving me," Ghirahim placed his other hand on his chest in mock offence. "You appear to be very fickle. So nervous one minute, and then giving me looks that could kill." And he wrote that down, too.

Link looked annoyed. "What age are you?"

Ghirahim grinned again. Link was quite entertaining to push around. "Sixteen. Sixteen years, nine months and three days, to be exact."

Link looked slightly disturbed by how precisely he was able to recite his age. Ghirahim enjoyed to prattle off little things like that.

Link continued with weak, common questions, and Ghirahim continued to write them all down, grinning as he flipped the page over, filling it with things that he was sure Link wasn't even aware of himself.

Something caught his attention and Ghirahim looked up, brushing his hair from his face, revealing the diamond tattoo he had on his cheek.

"You have a tattoo?" Ghirahim gave him a sly smile and nodded, letting his hair fall back in place. "What other secrets do you have?"

Ghirahim thought for a moment. Not that, not that, especially not that, he'd find me weirder than I already am, the fact that… That would be the safest bet after all.

"Honestly, I have to admire your bravery," Ghirahim started and smiled. "Not many would ask me about my own family, let alone the secrets I keep." Not even his good friends knew all of his secrets. Not about his mom, or his father. He loathed that word. He hate, hate, hated that word, even in the most innocent of contexts.

Reasons why he would rather die alone than marry someone and have kids. He didn't want to be a repeat of his father. His mother had none of his hate…

Thinking about this subject really had him distracted from his current target and he mentally slapped himself to get himself back on task.

Your mother hates you, she never did a thing to stop him and it's your fault she is where she is. Everything is because of you, you never do a good thing. You're crazy and you'll be locked away one day, because you murdered someone, or you've just gone nuts. The voice broke through and his hand itched to slip to where he kept his stash of pills in his pocket, but he didn't give a clue of what was going on.

Shut up. He mentally hissed at the voice.

"I suppose I'll let you in on a well-known secret," He smiled and leaned forward, Link's eyes widening and searching his revealed eye. He moved closer, an inch away, and Link seemed to have gone stiff, and he inhaled, Link's confusion before he exhaled and the smell his breath had made the other hack and cough. Ghirahim laughed as he sat back, watching as Link spluttered.

"You smoke." He muttered, looking away, noting it down on the sheet he had with so few things noted compared to the elder's almost novel length notes that he had taken of the other.

"I do indeed. Not enough to make it obvious, though; I'm not that stupid. Don't you smoke?" It was something he used along with alcohol to escape his reality. The crazy reality. Drunk was much better than the living nightmare of voices he couldn't escape.

"No!" He snapped, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"You don't smoke… Scared, are we?" Ghirahim pressed, raising a thin eyebrow. "Ever had any alcohol?"

"I've had champagne once or twice," Link muttered, looking away, and Ghirahim cackled with laughter again, leaning his chin on his palm and his elbow on the desk.

"Oh, you'll be a lot of fun," He grinned, just as suspected, and he tried to press the voice away, and it laughed at him before fading away.

"What?" Link was confused again, and Ghirahim giggled a little.

"You'll be fun to mess with. Fun to mess up." He grinned. The bell rang and he stood up, leaning over to whisper in Link's ear.

"When we get our lunch break after this next class, wait fifteen minutes with your friends," he said, tone devoid of any emotion. "Then, make an excuse. I don't care what it is –you have to talk to a teacher, go to the bathroom, something- as long as you get out of their sight. Wait another five minutes and leave the school. If you leave through the front doors and keep turning right, you'll see two dumpsters. Green and black; you'll spot them right away. I expect you to be there, on time." He murmured, squeezing his shoulder before whirling and leaving the room, whipping his phone out in the process.

"Shut up." He hissed to the voice. "And keep quiet."