The flames flickered on the cemetery's old stone floor, licking the weathered effigies and tombstones with their white-hot heat.
The burst of magic energy had been as terrible as it had been unseen; springing forth from practically nowhere and blanketing the entire area in ivory flames.
Miraculously, no-one had been harmed. Through some act of ancestral protection, providence or sheer luck, each of the witches got away unharmed.
Except for the little boy.
A child lay in the centre of the chaos, face-down on the worn cobblestones.
Thirty witches emerged from their hiding places, peering over the tombstones, alcoves and crypt walls to assess the boy's condition.
Was he dead? Surely no-one could have survived that!
But the boy started to stir, whimpering as the seared skin on his arms rubbed against the dead grass and stone beneath him.
He got to his knees, his vision blurred as the flames began to snuff themselves out.
"Nolan?" a voice asked.
The boy turned around as a man emerged from the crowd, staring at the child in disbelief.
"...Daddy?" he asked weakly. "W-What...happened?"
But the man said nothing, his dark features stricken with panic as he beheld an unseen thing behind Nolans' little form.
"Nolan..." he repeated, his voice shaky. "What the hell...have you done?"
xxxxxxx
Noel's eyes flashed open, the boy drawing a sharp breath as he woke.
An alarm clock chirped incessantly on his bedside table, rattling on its silver, pin-sized legs until Noel swatted it's top.
Silence.
The boy rolled over in bed, pinching the bridge of his nose as the dream lingered in his mind.
Ugh, he thought drearily. Nothing like a bad memory to start the day.
He kicked off his checkered black comforter and sat upright, the chilly morning air tickling his naked torso. Noel ignored it and staggered into the bathroom, washing away his grogginess with some splashes of hot water.
As the water trickled down his chin, more memories flooded his mind - recollections of the day before.
...It happened again. He lost control.
God, that was the third time in the last five months. When was it going to end?
Noel sighed, looking at his reflection in the basin mirror.
His skin was a dry, icy-white, like a weathered marble statue, with faint bluish-red bags under his eyes. The boy's hair wasn't faring any better, dangling in thin bangs down the front of his forehead, the tips a frosty white.
Noel bit his lip.
Greying hair. Another pain in the boy's ass; one that seemed to worsen with every fit and outburst he had.
When he first came to the Salvatore School as a child, the greyness stuck to a few stray hairs - now it covered the whole front and right of his bangs.
Everyone had their own theories on why his hair acted this way. Dorian and Alaric believed it was a 'witch's mark'. Emma assumed it was Marie-Antoinette Syndrome and Alyssa Chang thought it was a 'crappy fashion statement'.
'I don't care what it is,' Noel always told them. 'I just want it gone.'
He dried his face on a nearby towel, moving over to a brown chest of drawers at the foot of his bed. The witch reached out to the topmost drawer but suddenly froze as he glanced at his forearms.
...He almost forgot the scars.
Noel's throat tightened as he looked at forearms, beholding the scarred skin that stretched from his elbows to his palms.
The scars were thin, barely the width of a pipe cleaner, but stretched out in raised, lightning-like webs. Any area that wasn't covered in scars was either dry or covered in pale pink skin.
His throat tightened as he looked at his arms, the crisscrossing pink lines reflecting in his eyes.
Nightmares, greying hair and outbursts, but it was the scars that were the worst.
Nightmares didn't occur all that frequently. The greying hair could be trimmed down or partly dyed. And the outbursts, for the most part, could be avoided.
But nothing helped with the scars. They weren't on or off like the nightmares. They couldn't be hidden or obscured like the white and grey hairs. And they certainly couldn't be managed in any way.
The scars were just there. And they...
Noel balled his hands into fists.
...And they were hideous. Yet another reminder of what he suffered through that day.
The boy tore his eyes away and returned to the chest of drawers, pulling out a black hoodie and grey-white skinny jeans. He tossed the clothes onto his bed with a scowl, as if he were throwing a knife into someone's back and started to pull down his pyjama pants...
The door swung open, an exasperated Lizzie Saltzman marching inside.
"Oh, thank God, you're finally up and - WHOA!"
She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Noel pulling down his pants, the blonde witch letting out an ear-piercing shriek.
Noel gasped, pulling his pants up so fast that he almost gave himself a wedgie.
"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, falling back against his drawers. "You ever hear of knocking?!"
"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!" Lizzie sobbed, clapping her hands over her eyes. "I've been scarred for life!"
Noel gave silent thanks that his pants only made it halfway down his thigh before Lizzie barged in, the boy standing upright with folded arms.
"What are you doing here, Lizzie?" he asked tersely. Honestly, was nowhere safe?
But Lizzie was still flustered, averting her eyes with a dramatic flourish. "J-Just cover-up, will you?!"
Noel rolled his eyes at Lizzie's newfound prudishness, snatching up a shirt from his bed and holding it over his chest like a bra.
"What are you doing here, Elizabeth?"
The mention of her full name got Lizzie's attention, the blonde folding her arms as she finally looked Noel in the eye.
She wore a flowery, white collared shirt, with a red bow tied around her neck and a cobalt-blue jacket draped around her shoulders.
Around her waist, fastened by a thin black belt, was a pair of sea-green plaid pants, complemented by a pair of Doc Martens so white, Noel could see the roof reflected on the soles.
"Hmm," she twirled a lock of icy-blonde hair around a finger. "Long version or the short version?"
"The 'Whatever-The-Hell-Gets-You-Out-Of-My-Room' version." Noel seethed.
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Dad went on a trip to Georgia State with that she-devil Hope Mikaelson," she grit her teeth as she said Hope's name. "Apparently they found out about some supernatural kid stuck in a dead-end foster home, and now they want to enrol them here at the school."
Noel's grip on his shirt relaxed.
"Hope Mikaelson isn't here?" he joked. "I thought the school felt less intense."
He almost dropped the shirt, but as he lowered his arms, his scars came into view.
Noel's heart leapt into his throat, fearing that Lizzie saw them, but she was too busy looking around the room.
He pressed the shirt back against his chest, turning his forearms and wrists away from Lizzie's eyes.
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." Lizzie groaned, oblivious to Noel's insecurity. "Dad texted Josie and me a few minutes ago to say that they just crossed the Mystic Falls county line. They'll be here any minute and-"
"...And this has what to do with me?" Noel asked, fearing the answer.
Lizzie clapped her hands, a devilish smile on her face as she reached down towards a battered, white tote bag at her feet. The blonde witch reached inside, dusting off a plastic-wrapped Salvatore school blazer.
"Here." she offered in a sing-songy voice.
Noel's brow furrowed. Why was Lizzie Saltzman giving him a school blazer? Barring the fact that she was offering him something, the school's official blazers were notoriously expensive. As such, they were only worn by wealthier students or on formal duties like school excursions, assemblies or tour guides and-
Noel's eyes widened.
"Oh, hell no!" he exclaimed. "I'm not playing tour guide for you, Saltzman! That's yours and Josie's job!"
But Lizzie stormed over and shoved the blazer into Noel's arms, a smug expression on her face.
"And now it's yours." she said gleefully.
Noel still wasn't convinced. "You can't be serious."
"Dead serious." Lizzie scowled. "Which is exactly what you'll be if you don't hurry the hell up."
Okay, now Noel was convinced. He groaned in defeat and put the blazer on top of his drawers and entered the bathroom.
"I'm going to need twenty minutes to shower and get dressed and-"
"You have ten, Nolan." the girl snapped. "Now haul ass!"
And without another word, she slammed the door shut.
Noel seethed as he turned the hot water on in the shower.
"It's Noel!" he called out.
xxxxxxx
"Eleven minutes and twenty-five seconds."
Lizzie tucked her phone away in her pocket, glancing behind her at Noel.
"Not a very good timekeeper, are you?" she asked curtly.
Noel groaned, tugging on the sleeves of his blazer.
"Are you seriously gonna start micromanaging me?" he asked, gritting his teeth.
The two of them had long since left Noel's room and started down the hallway. They passed by the rows of dorm-rooms, the sunlit, auburn walls and ornate wooden stairwells - all on their way to the foyer.
Thank goodness that everyone was stuck in class or outside watching the Wickery game - fewer people to see Lizzie drag Noel around like a brain-dead puppy dog.
"You complain too much." Lizzie groaned, flipping back her blonde hair.
"You volunteered me for a job you know I hate doing." Noel retorted. "If I'd done that to you, there'd be pieces of me scattered across Mystic Falls right now."
She smirked.
"Maybe I should've asked Josie to come and get you. Probably would have complained less."
Noel narrowed his eyes, momentarily forgetting his discomfort.
"What are you trying to say, Lizzie?"
Lizzie kept her back to Noel, but the boy could already tell that she was rolling her eyes.
"Come off it, Nolan." she groaned. "We all know you have the hots for my sister."
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
There it was! There they went again! The same question everyone had been pestering him with since Day One:
Do you like Josie?
Again and again, people have asked that question. From those bitchy, bratty little witches to those nosy vampires - even those butt-sniffing werewolves had to chime in!
Do you like Josie? Do you 'like' like Josie? Are you in love with Josie? How long have you been hot for her? Again and again and again!
And (in case it wasn't already clear) Noel was sick of it. Even more than his outbursts and greying hair.
"For the millionth time." Noel scowled. "I don't like Josie like that!"
"So you say," Lizzie sighed. "But people are going to talk, Nolan. Especially after your little moment in class yesterday."
Noel stopped fidgeting just long enough to feel his cheeks flush, recalling Josie's hands on his face yesterday in class.
Her hands. They were so comforting. So warm-
"She was just trying to help me." he defended, forcing the memory out of his mind. "Nothing else."
Lizzie scoffed. "Didn't look like it from where I was standing."
Noel opened his mouth to speak, but Lizzie groaned, her nostrils flaring as she folded her arms.
"You might be a pain in the ass," the girl chided. "But I'd prefer you hooking up with Josie than that Blair Bitch, Penelope Park."
Noel rolled his eyes. So Lizzie liked him better than the conniving, mean girl that made her life a living hell? What a ringing endorsement...
They finally reached the foyer, weaving past a group of junior students as they approached the doors. Lizzie stopped walking, clearing her throat and adjusting her bow.
"Game faces on, Nolan." she grinned. "It's time to make an entrance."
Noel sighed. "...Yay."
Lizzie promptly opened the doors, rays of mid-morning sunlight flooding the entryway. A pang of disappointment filled Noel's heart as he looked around the driveway - no sign of Lizzie's father or a new student anywhere in sight.
In fact, the driveway was completely empty, save for one solitary figure.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Jo." Lizzie apologized. "Nolan had a little trouble getting ready."
Noel would have given her the mother of all glares were Josie not present. The last thing he needed to do was make a bad impression on one of his last (or only) friend left.
"... It's fine." Josie murmured. "Don't worry about it."
Both of the twins were dressed in their best clothes, Noel thought. But where Lizzie had adopted a more casual look, Josie was the picture of elegance.
She wore a simple navy-blue sweater with frilly sleeve cuffs that curled around her wrists. A scarlet-red mini-skirt hung around her waist, contrasting with the red and gold Salvatore' S' that shone proudly on her collar.
A light scent tickled Noel's nose as they approached her, the faint but sweet smell of lavender perfume drawing him in.
Noel swallowed.
And to top it all off, Josie's brunette hair was done up in a neat ponytail, accentuating the delicate curve of her supple, swan-like neck-
Noel shook his head, chiding himself as he tore his eyes away from Josie.
Damn Lizzie and her stupid gossiping! Now he was too self-conscious to even look Josie's way!
"...Hey, Noel." Josie suddenly said, breaking the silence.
"Hi, Josie." Noel greeted in turn. His words were light, and his voice soft, but he didn't meet Josie's gaze as he spoke.
Ignoring the tense atmosphere, the two of them fell into line alongside Lizzie - Noel on the blonde's right and Josie on Lizzie's left.
Lizzie took a deep breath, a satisfied smile on her face. But Noel and Josie didn't share her enthusiasm - the two refusing to even look one another in the eye.
Josie looked down, playing with her fingers and Noel stood at ease, feelings of guilt, frustration and embarrassment churning in his stomach.
"...Are you okay?" Josie finally asked, lifting her head.
Noel was silent for a moment.
"...I made an idiot out of myself in front of all the witches," he answered. "Pissed off Alyssa Chang, woke up with nightmares and just got grilled by your sister."
Lizzie shot him a look.
"No," he finished. "I feel like shit."
Josie bit her lower lip and looked down dejectedly.
Noel sighed. That sounded a lot less harsh in his head...
But Josie seemed unfazed by his sharp words.
"You don't have to struggle like this." the witch said. "You know you can talk to me about...about stuff, right? Stuff that's bothering you?"
Noel couldn't help but feel comforted by her words. But the sensation quickly faded as Noel recalled Josie's overly caring nature - her codependent, bleeding heart.
"I'm sure you say that to everyone." he grumbled.
Lizzie smacked him on the arm, causing Noel to jump back.
"Don't be an ass!" she snapped. "She's trying to help you!"
Noel winced, rubbing the sore spot on his arm.
"She's always nice." Noel defended. "That's the problem. And she doesn't need me adding to it."
Josie looked away.
"Besides," Noel added. "I don't need any help."
Lizzie scoffed. "Oh, really? Because your little Carrie White-style tantrum yesterday says otherwise."
Noel ignored her. Was Lizzie Saltzman really giving him mental health advice? What was next, a seminar on making friends from Hope Mikaelson? A lecture on focus from Milton Greasley?
A low sound rumbled from the other side of the courtyard, a dark jeep pulling up outside the school gate.
"There they are." Josie whispered, standing up straight.
Noel observed the jeep as it approached, trying to sneak a peek at the Salvatore School's newest student.
"So who is this new student supposed to be?" he asked Lizzie, keeping one eye on the jeep.
Lizzie teetered on her heels, craning her neck.
"Dunno," she said. "Dad was stingy on the details. But judging by all the chains he was cramming into the car, I'd guess a werewolf.
Noel's blood ran cold. "W-Werewolf?!"
"Don't freak out." Lizzie warned him. "We can't have your little werewolf issues freaking out the new kid."
"It's not an 'issue'," Noel defended. "It's an aversion. A dislike."
"Whatever." Lizzie retorted.
Noel shook his head as he looked back towards the driveway. The jeep was mere feet away from them. As it approached, Noel could make out the stoic face of Hope Mikaelson, her auburn hair shining in the sunlit car window.
Beside her, in the driver's seat, was a handsome man with combed, brown and grey-streaked hair - Dr Alaric Saltzman, the Headmaster.
But it was the boys in the back seat that warranted the most attention.
"Hello, hottie." Lizzie gasped, grinning from ear to ear.
At first, Noel registered the boy on the far left seat, but his black, curly hair and awestruck expression didn't cater to Lizzie's tastes.
Clearly, Noel realized, it was the other boy that Lizzie was eyeing; a tall, African-American boy with buzz-cut hair and a muscular frame wrapped up in a navy-blue hoodie.
Hell, he even caught Noel's eye.
(But that was an indulgence for another time...)
The jeep came to a stop, Lizzie clearing her throat as the handsome boy stepped out.
"Welcome to the Salvatore School." she beamed, her smile bright as sunshine. "We're your tour guides."
"I'm Josie." Josie cut in. She gave the new boy a warm smile, which made Noel's heart sink.
"I'm Lizzie." Lizzie introduced, smiling even more. "Sisters."
"Twins." Josie corrected her.
"Fraternal. Obvs."
The girls giggled, oblivious as their father exited the jeep with Hope and the other boy.
The handsome boy nodded blankly and glanced at Noel, his dark eyes sending a rush through the young witch's body.
"I'm Noel." Noel introduced himself mirthlessly. "No twin. Only child and unwilling participant."
Lizzie glared at him again. Some choice words burned in the blonde witch's mouth, but before she could unleash them, Alaric put a hand on her shoulder.
"Rafael." the Headmaster began. "Why don't you go ahead with the girls while I talk to Landon?"
The curly-haired boy stiffened as Alaric said his name, a name that Noel quickly registered.
Rafael and Landon. So those were their names.
Lizzie and Josie approached Rafael, the two smiling as they linked arms with him, averting their eyes from Hope.
"Morning, Hope." they droned.
"Morning, girls." Hope responded. Her voice was soft and welcoming, but even that wasn't enough for Lizzie.
"More like despair." she scoffed.
"I heard that." Hope retorted, gritting her pearly teeth.
"No, you didn't!"
"Didn't have t-"
"Everyone, behave." Alaric ordered.
"Love you, Dad!" the twins called out in unison.
Alaric sighed as the twins led Rafael away, his exasperation shared by Noel. Honestly, how the Headmaster dealt with all this cattiness was beyond Noel's understanding.
Exhibit A of what happens when you don't pay attention to your children. Noel thought bitterly. They act up.
"So," Alaric smiled at Landon. "Let's get started."
The boy looked at Alaric in stunned silence as the Headmaster guided him through the door.
As the two entered the foyer, Hope strode in after them, with Noel following close behind.
"Hello, Noel." Hope acknowledged, keeping her eyes forward.
"Hope." Noel inclined his head. "Have an eventful trip?"
"Travelled to the middle of Georgia state in the middle of the night to help a newly-triggered wolf." the girl recounted mirthlessly. "In a church. Right in the middle of a full moon."
"Lemme guess." Noel groaned. "Catholics? Mistook a werewolf change for a demon or something?"
"Yep." Hope said, popping the 'p'. "Exorcism and everything."
Noel shook his head, resisting the urge to smile. Classic Catholics.
"Slow down!" Alaric suddenly called out, three junior students running past him.
Noel watched the students disappear up the stairs before his eyes turned back to Landon.
"So what's his story?" Noel asked.
Hope's eyes fell on Landon, her pastel-pink lips curving upwards in a smile.
"That's Landon." she answered. "Rafael's adoptive brother."
She looked Noel in the eye.
"Not supernatural."
Hope almost managed to hide her amusement, but a light grin betrayed her true feelings.
With the way Noel and Hope walked beside each other, one could almost make the impression that the two were friends. But they would be wrong. Because much like the supernatural world itself, nothing was that simple - especially friendships.
Hope and Noel got along. They often found themselves in each other's company. And they might even share similar worldviews.
But they were not friends. Like a wild bear and a game hunter - similar core values and roles, but nothing personal. The Salvatore School had a funny way of bringing outcasts together.
Noel half-laughed. "A werewolf and a hipster. What a terrifying combination."
"Be nice." Hope warned him. "Landon used to live here in Mystic Falls. We hung out a couple of times."
Noel's eyes boggled. Hang out? Since when does Hope Mikaelson' hang out' with someone?
Hanging out to dry, or hanging someone with a rope for ticking her off - that Noel understood.
But Hope 'Keep Your Distance' Mikaelson hanging out with someone? What sort of twisted parallel universe was this?
"But wait," Noel realized. "If he's not supernatural, then..."
Hope nodded. "He's human. Yes."
A phantom hand squeezed Noel's heart. "Then are you sure it's a good idea to bring him in here like this-"
"Relax." Hope told him. "We've just gotta get some information about Rafael out of him first."
She looked at him smugly.
"Want us to find out if he's single?"
"Oh, ha-ha." Noel half-laughed. "You know I draw the line at werewolves. Just because I'm experimenting doesn't mean I'm desperate."
Hope shook her head wryly as Alaric looked back at them, giving Hope a knowing look.
"So," Noel deduced, looking at Landon carefully. "Interrogation first and compulsion later?"
"That's the plan..." Hope answered.
The two reached the Headmaster's office, Alaric pushing through with Landon as Hope held the door open for them.
Alaric took a seat behind his desk, the words exchanged between him and Landon fading into white noise as Noel flopped onto a small armchair.
Swinging his legs over the left arm, Noel looked at Landon carefully, Hope's words nagging at the boy's mind.
Interrogation first and compulsion later? That's the plan.
Such reassuring and rational words. But why did they make Noel feel so uneasy?
xxxxxxx
AUTHORS NOTE: The story has reached over 400 views. Thank you all for your continued interest and responses to this story. I'm a bit spread out with University work (and the crises going on with the COVID-19 stuff) but I'm working on building a proper schedule for this story.