Chapter 4:

"Silver Linings."

The pitch-black shroud of the night emanated a melted gloom. The inky surroundings when inhaled, suffocated her adrift heart. The wind whispered her unknown words, and the rustling leaves caressed her vapid soul, taking her mind far, far back. The moon was a mere scythe, that threatened to cut the attenuated figure of her life. Promptly, if possible, the black acquired a darker shade, leaving her disoriented and detached.

Her steps were heavy, but they somehow dissolved into the shadow and vamoosed with the fluxing dark breeze.

A slight but intense humming began, which seemed to suck all the breath out of her. Her instinct indicated danger, but her heart was appealed, and tailed the soothingly threatening sound.

The walls were icy, but her palms glued to them, the heat was neither lost nor absorbed as both the surfaces were deeply frozen.

A screech. A pitch, more painful than nails on a chalkboard, an exhale, injured with roughness. The humming would flow away as the howling screech broke its rhythm regularly.

She kept walking. Each pace drew her closer. With each, step, her self-preservation screamed a bit louder, begging her to stop. Then the soul-draining sight, brought her to a halt.

Candles. Blood. The glinting marble, on which each drop oozed in harmony with the other. The sight was blurred. She did not have the strength to recollect herself. Then the coal-black eyes, without any trace of white met hers. The blue, beetle shell gleam they held was like the crescent moon. There was no proof she was alive, for she stood still, her figure showed no sign of life, except the regular blinks that she gave with her thickly lashed eyes.

"You live," said the monstrous voice coming from the little girl's lips. "I don't."

She drew back, her back hitting the wall. Her breathing waved away, her voice was lost.

The little girl moved closer causing the other to slam deeper against the wall. She took her hand in her blood-coated palms, with the gentlest touch, like the sweetest lick. Her tiny wrist, deeply gashed.

She wanted to protest, she needed to rebel. She wanted to rapidly vanish in the vacant night but her body did not obey the commands her numb brain gave. The circuit was not complete, her head was not connected and her limbs felt lifeless, not her own.

"The accused takes the blame," said the child smiling, her teeth blood-stained. "A murder will be granted, no altering the faith's design," she closed her eyes. "Until the truth is revealed, but the rest is too dark to see, too dark to see," she said frowning.

She screamed. Her throat opposed, but she screamed. Her heart was bursting, her life felt hollow. She pushed her away, her back scratched against the rough surface, but all the pain felt bearable at the moment. "Stay away from me," she said glancing at the sides, searching for an escape. "Stay away from me!"

The child's body lifted ever so slightly as her amused expression turned addled. She blinked continuously, each time the blue glow shifted slightly higher, until the dark was kneaded by the pale white, that regained its rightful position. The small girl looked lost, as if the former actions were not her own. Her eyes demanding, questioning, the reason of the horrified expression that dominated her sister's face. "I'll protect you," she promised, ignorant of the current situation, but the love she felt for her radiated clearly in her soft voice.

Her eyes liquified and she pushed her away. "You're a freak! Stay away from me," she backed away. "You're a monster, you're a monster, go away, don't touch me," her voice almost pleading.

The little girl smiled, as the rejection no longer hurt. "I'll protect you, you will live," and just like that her eyes shut and she dropped to the ground. Her expression was peaceful as she restored dominance of her own conscience.

One thing became very obvious very quickly to me. This guy, Killua, was not someone you could shake off. After not showing his face for days on end, you'd find him seated in the classroom like he owned the place. Despite his erratic attendance, his reputation as a cool, brooding mystery boy remained firmly intact.

I realized that while talking to him people didn't really even pay attention to the way he backhanded them, they were just that stoked to have his audience, no matter how uninterested he looked. I myself witnessed how what could barely pass as an exchange with one girl in my class, who was undressing him with her eyes as he spoke, went.

"So, where did you move from?"

He sighed, not even trying to hide his frustration. "A place with better sightlines."

By this point, I had lowered my head, so I couldn't see her face, but the forced laugh out of her that followed his remark gave me a pretty good mental image. "You're funny!" she exclaimed, just glad to be seen around him.

When she finally left, I saw his spikey-haired friend smack him quietly on his shoulder. "That was rude, Killua."

Killua quietly rubbed the spot where he had been hit, a sour look on his face.

I was surprised by both the dynamic and my unexplained interest in the matter. I had just gathered enough sanity to check myself out of their conversation when I realized class was about to be dismissed. But not before a lengthy report with a tight deadline was sprung on us.

I was mentally making a roadmap for that very assignment as I sorted my things, when Killua towered over my seat. "Let's work together," he said, no pleasantries, like it was a decision he had made on both our behalf.

I had a few clever quips I could have thrown at him to really tell him what I thought of that idea. But to my left, Nora looked like she was about to eat herself from the inside any second. I would have been damned if I didn't cash on the opportunity to facilitate her self-combustion.

"Sure," I agreed instead, waiting until most of the room cleared out to approach Killua again. His friend had just walked out and he was close behind, when I held him up. "By the way, us working together? Not happening."

Killua arched an eyebrow, I was sure this level of fluctuation was alarming even for someone as bipolar as the likes of him. "Let me guess, you just said yes to be polite?"

I pursed my lips, not particularly appreciating his sharp memory. "No."

"Then? You did agree, willingly, yes?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"So, you're in the habit of saying things, but not meaning them?" He deciphered.

I looked at him, feeling stupid. "That's not it. I actually said it because my friend Nora- actually, not a friend, but technically—" I paused, tilting my head sideways, doing the friend-or-not math and then deciding to drop it, "Anyway, she was right there when you asked, and she has a thing for you clearly like every other female in this school, and I just wanted to… you know," I explained with a shrug to better get my point across, "one-up her a bit."

It was only after I had uttered these words that I realized how badly I had fucked up. I had basically in one go admitted that everyone found him attractive (including me), and also given him an opening to hold that over my head.

The smug expression that overtook his face told me my clairvoyance was very spot on. "Would every female in that category also include you?" There you have it folks.

I scoffed. "Right, you wish. The point is, we can't work together."

"Because you said yes out of pettiness?"

Yikes, I wondered what clever way I could steer that, but came up at a loss. "Yes, okay you got me. I wanted to be petty. But, no harm done, really."

"I disagree," he countered immediately, and I had the impression that I was about to be schooled, and correctly so. "You see, Claire, when you say things out loud, even in the throes of pettiness-induced madness, they tend to stick. So, unless you want to over-work your tiny brain in the pursuit of another partner, and also explain why to not a friend Nora, I suggest we crack open these dusty textbooks and get started."

His point was so valid that I didn't even have it in me to say something about the tiny brain comment he made. I just scoffed again, and then settled on making a face at him.

"Should we?" he asked, gesturing to nowhere in particular.

"Actually, I don't work like this. I need to plan things out in advance, and I like to work in a familiar space." I held my hand out for his phone.

He was surprised but didn't hesitate handing it to me. "You do realize we're going to be writing a report, not waging war?" he confirmed, sounding alarmed at my intensity.

"You can never be too prepared," I preached, putting my number in his phone. "I'll text you my address."

"Or I could just drive you home," he suggested, sounding much more reasonable.

For some strange reason, the offer sounded appealing, but since I didn't admit to myself that his otherworldly attractiveness had a lot to do with that appeal, I fought it. "Uh-no, I told you I need to prep beforehand."

"So, I take it you're not big on spontaneity?" He probed, not sounding the least bit bothered by my refusal.

"Hate it," I confirmed with a nod.

"You're secretly a nerd aren't you?" he figured out.

"Busted," I granted, before transitioning to an exaggerated whisper. "But don't go around disclosing my identity, I just got my cool card this year."

"Right, we wouldn't want to spoil that," he said, looking like he could almost be smiling if he wasn't so obnoxious.

"Definitely wouldn't want that. Anyway, I'll see you at… say six- or seven maybe? Really depends on how in-depth I decide to go… you know what? I'll text you that too."

He looked so over my insanity at that point. "Tone down the crazy, I'll be waiting outside after the bell." With that, he left, no longer in the mood to entertain me. He didn't even tell me how I'd recognize which car in the lot was his.

Turns out he was well aware that he didn't need to. His ostentatious car sucked all the attention around just like he did. Parked at the far end, this sleek, obsidian beast of a car gleamed in the sunlight. It was unlike anything else in the lot– low to the ground, with sharp, angular lines that screamed "look at me." Now, I didn't know a lot about cars, but this one looked fast and expensive.

He was already leaning against the driver's side door, arms crossed, a bored expression on his face. I could tell he stood there for my sake, but I was pretty sure he was secretly enjoying the synergy of attention that man and machine made. Boys and their rides.

Compared to the car, he looked positively human, sprawled out on the hood of a predator. His legs were stretched long across the black paint, almost defying the car's low profile. A stray strand of silver hair whipped across his forehead in the breeze, the only thing out of place in his picture of nonchalant coolness.

I forced myself to make a gradual beeline towards him. "You're kidding me, right?" I demanded, feeling like a misfit next to his outrageously flashy vehicle. "This is the most obnoxious car in the history of time."

"I think the word you're looking for is glorious," he amended, sounding infatuated with the thing. This came as a confirmation to me that Killua was such a guy.

"I'm thinking it's not too late to take the bus," I told him, not being able to picture myself sitting in the monstrosity that was supposed to pass as a car. "You know what? Technically, I don't even know you, so I don't see any reason to get into a stranger's car. I mean this what my parents have been warning me about since I was little."

"So, you're just as dramatic outside the school building," he observed, materializing to open the door for me. He was doing it like it was no big deal at all, which made it strangely even more touching.

"Oh, you didn't catch that back at the grocery store?" I asked, finally giving in and taking a seat.

He was back on his side and in the car in a matter of seconds.

I had just taken in the interior and the exquisite scent of leather and expensiveness that lingered, when a hand shot forth from my right.

I turned to find Killua's spiky-haired friend waiting to greet me from the back. "Hello, I'm Gon."

I was so taken aback that I could only extend my hand as a response for a few seconds. "I'm Claire," I managed eventually.

"I know," he said with a grin. "Killua's talked about you a lot… well, not a lot, because he's a man of few words. But he's mentioned you, which in Killua vernacular is like a lot."

"How flattering," I remarked, while Killua palmed Gon's face back and out of sight. "I've seen you in class," I told him when he popped back into view, "you keep him humble." I was pointing at Killua with my thumb, and nodding to display my approval.

Killua, who had just started the car, turned to me with a raised eyebrow and scoffed. "Keep me humble? I'm the king of humility."

"Sure, because this is exactly the kind of car the king of humility would drive," I mocked, gesturing around me. Killua suddenly leaned in towards me; it took me a minute to grasp that was putting my seatbelt in place. The next moment, he had pulled the car out and inserted himself in the seemingly unending line towards the lot's exit.

"It's too extra, right?" Gon seconded, "I told you Killua, didn't I tell you?"

"Yes, and didn't I already tell you to shut it the first time too?" The line moved forward, and Killua went impatiently with it.

"Anyway," Gon continued enthusiastically, "who needs a fancy car when you can get there on your own two feet? The journey is half the fun, Killua! You miss all the cool sights and smells cooped up in this metal box. "Wouldn't you agree Claire?"

Killua beat me to the chase of answering, with absolute shock in his voice. "Metal box? I wish you knew how disrespectful you were being." Finally, there was an opening for Killua to get the car out and on the road. He was acting like he was on the verge of combustion stuck in that line.

I rolled my eyes at his two-fold drama. "Gon, believe me, there is nothing I would love more than to agree with you just to spite him," I clarified, giving Killua the side-eye, "but me and walking are a no go, actually that holds for me and any kind of physical activity." I proceeded to tell them the infamous story of me kicking myself in the face at my first and only soccer practice. It was humiliating, for sure, but I knew from experience that it was also an absolute crowd-pleaser.

"How?" Killua asked, looking a blend between impressed and concerned. I noticed how he was driving perfectly fine without really looking at the road.

"Woah," Gon remarked, sounding more accepting of the physics-defying phenomenon, "reminds me of a crazy dodgeball match we had where I was knocked clear across the court. Of course, I would have died on the spot if that hit me head-on, right Killua?"

I blinked in confusion, and Killua's face had gone blank, then flustered as he swatted Gon away with his right hand while using the left to steer the wheel. "He's joking," he clarified, glaring at his friend, "questionable sense of humor, as you can see."

Gon looked embarrassed and scratched his head awkwardly. I wasn't going to lie, it was a little strange.

Killua continued looking like he'd send Gon flying out of the car any second now for the next five or so minutes while assaulting him with his eyes on the rearview mirror before he made the first stop. "We'll be dropping Gon here over at our place before we head to yours," he explained, as Gon unfastened his seatbelt.

I saw that they lived in a nice neighborhood about ten minutes from mine.

"It was really nice meeting you," he told me, flashing a mesmerizing smile at me. I told him I felt the same and he scrambled right out.

"How long have you guys known each other?" I asked, as Killua drove again.

I was starting to recognize the look of caution and discomfort that would take over his face whenever I asked him anything about himself.

"A little over five years," he responded, short and cold, like he wasn't entertaining any more questions.

"Where are you guys from?" I followed-up, unable to help it.

"Why the background check?" He snapped, and then looked like he regretted it immediately after.

I studied him silently, he was a paradox. "You're going the wrong way," I told him, noticing the road for the first time in a minute.

"I thought you might like to grab a drink," he confessed, not quite meeting my eyes, "I saw a coffee place close by, and they have a drive-through."

"I don't like coffee," I said, stupidly, slightly liking how thoughtful he was slowly showing himself to be, "and that place you're talking about stinks, by the way."

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "I knew you couldn't find a decent cup of coffee in a shitty small town," he complained, sounding like a frustrated child.

"Hey, hey, hey," I protested, my hands moving furiously, "don't count us out just yet. There's a nice enough coffee place that will have you taking those words back."

"So you're also a local pride defender, huh?" he teased, looking at the road with a smirk on his face.

"I happen to like this place a lot, and if you hate small towns, why in your right mind would you even move here?"

He processed that for a second. "Okay, small-town girl, show me this special coffee shop." It didn't pass me by how he completely ignored the last part of my question.

A little while later, he parked his slutty car in my driveway. I carried out the iced tea he had all but forced on me, and he followed close behind with the espresso he was yet to taste.

I unlocked the door, and let us in, feeling extremely uneasy about the fact that this boy was stepping into my house. He looked so much like he had dropped from a movie about annoyingly good-looking people, picturing him in an ordinary space was hard, even as it was happening.

He sat down on the couch in the living room, while I hung my jacket on the coat rack in the foyer. That was when he finally took a sip out of the cup in his hand.

"Well?" I asked, sitting down in the seat directly in front of him.

"It doesn't taste like dirt," he remarked, putting the cup to his mouth again. I was embarrassed by the way that affected me.

"Wow, Killua. Thanks for the glowing review. That's high praise coming from you."

"Certainly is," he confirmed, and I watched him for a minute while sipping my iced tea.

When he raised an eyebrow at me in question, I figured it was not wise to leave myself idle in his company because apparently, I had now developed a staring problem. "Anyway, let's go to my room, we'd better start working," I suggested, standing up.

My room was a simple space, with white and beige tones all over, and a severe scarcity of any kind of color. When Killua walked in, it somehow became the perfect backdrop for his distracting beauty. I was left wondering how someone could make a plain white shirt and jeans combo look that nice.

He walked over and settled on the edge of my bed. "Not to sound painfully small-town, and honestly that would be quite fitting, but won't your parents mind me being in your room?"

I sat my on desk chair and turned my laptop on, unable to not smile at that. "No, honestly, knowing my mom she'd probably burst into a yodel of pure joy if she saw you here."

He was taking a sip from his coffee cup when I said that, and my description had him in a coughing fit.

I looked at him, alarmed. I did hate the guy, but if he died of suffocation on my watch, I wouldn't be stoked. Well… maybe just a bit. "Water?" I asked, suppressing my homicidal thoughts.

He shook his head as he recovered. "Y-yodeling?" he finally managed between coughs, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I'm pretty sure they've built a shrine in their room where they pray for the day I finally bring a boy home. You know, in a dating type of way."

The look on his face was that of complete surprise, but if he had any questions on the matter, he didn't voice them.

"So… here's what we're going to do," I started, getting in my element, "I want to go over the background too, we need to cover the events in their totality, even if- why aren't you taking notes?" I asked, noticing the deadpan look he was giving me.

"Isn't the point of working together… I don't know…. Working together? You're calling the shots and bossing me around."

I scoffed at his stating the obvious. "Suck it up pal, this is how I work."

"You're a bossy little thing, aren't you?"

"You're an unbearable prick, aren't you?" I shot back, feeling extremely childish but also being unable to help it.

We continued arguing back and forth for a few minutes before we were able to meet halfway with the report. It turned out that Killua had some good insights and ideas, not that I would ever admit that to his face. Despite the friction between us, I realized that we worked well together.

We had a solid draft ready in just a couple of hours, which is when my bedroom door suddenly opened. "Claire, you have to help me figure out this texting thing, that bitch Martha from work said-" my mom began, her easy disregard for my privacy coming back to bite her in the ass for once.

On spotting Killua, she froze and looked mortifyingly at me. I enjoyed the moment, smirking back at her. "Mom, this is my classmate Killua," I introduced, gesturing with my hand at him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She turned with apologetic eyes at him. "Killua, you're so-" she stuttered, finally really seeing him. "My god, you're so pretty!"

To say I was the mortified one now was a heavy understatement. "Mom-"

Killua had a slightly surprised, slightly confused smile on his face. I respected the fact that he hadn't jumped right out of the window at her hysterics.

"How come you've never told me about him before?" she asked accusingly, not registering one bit of the awkwardness she had contaminated the room with.

"Because he's new- he just moved to town," I stammered, mentally calculating ways to get her to leave.

"Killua it's really nice to have you, you have to come over more," she pressed, ignoring the warning look I was giving her.

"Of course- thank you, ma'am," he managed to respond, I wanted to ask him how he got his voice to sound that stable all the time.

"Ma'am?" My mom asked in dramatic outrage, "No, Killua, call me Hana." She kept repeating his name with a reverence that would have one believe that they'd known each other for ages.

"We're working on a project, Mom," I pitched in, my teeth gritting together. I was ignored like the first slice of bread.

"Hana," Killua agreed. "I have to say, for a moment there I thought you were Claire's sister."

My jaw was on the floor at that.

My mother squealed in delight. But the words that followed her reaction were what would remain burned in my brain forever. "I love you," she told him point blank.

I buried my face in my hands, I didn't want to see his reaction. I wanted to pluck my eyes out before doing that.

When I heard him laugh that breezy laugh of his, I realized I'd somehow made it out of this one alive. Silver linings, I thought. "Mom-mom, give him some space," I begged, taking her hand and leading her towards the door and refusing to take any more chances.

She did not go out willingly. Asking her for snacks was the only way to convince her to leave.

I sighed in relief. "I would apologize, but you all but brought that on yourself," I informed him, spinning back around.

His answering smile reached his eyes and told me he didn't mind the exchange one bit. I was beginning to realize that this obnoxious person had a bit of a charming side to him. I wondered what would be of the female population if he decided to unleash it in its entirety.

"You look like her, your mother," he commented after a moment of quietude in which I looked up some material for our work.

I turned to look at him because I wanted to see the expression on his face when I annihilated him. "Right, in the way a disco ball resembles a burnt baguette?"

"What?"

"I'm adopted, you moron," I informed him, enjoying the secret glee I felt at one-upping him.

"Oh," was his only response. I had done it, I had left that obnoxious jerk speechless for once. Eventually, he followed it up with "What happened to your family?"

Since I was not expecting him to dig further, I had to take a moment to compose my response. "My parents died in an accident."

I didn't want to hear him say sorry and he didn't. "No siblings?" he continued. For a guy who hated being probed, he sure was fond of doing it himself.

"A brother and a sister," I answered, trying to look too immersed in my work to answer any more questions.

"What happened to them?"

"Why the background check?" I deflected, using his words from earlier against him

He didn't say anything but the expression on his face said 'you got me there.'

"They're no longer in the picture, my sister died, not sure what happened with my brother," I explained eventually in one breath, hoping to close that book for good.

He nodded, appreciating my designating him with an answer.

"And that's all on my sob story. Now, what about you?" I redirected, spinning my chair around.

"What about me?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"What about your family, or were you raised by bears?"

"I have… brothers, four of them," he granted, looking like he was thinking his answer through.

"Cool," I said, for no reason whatsoever. "Are they polar, like you, or grizzlies?" I was on a roll with my wildlife humor.

Too bad he wasn't advanced enough to appreciate it and just threw me a look of disbelief.

"What?" I asked looking once between him and the screen. "I was talking about the- the hair," I said waving my hand above my head.

"Oh, no, no.. they're all... grizzlies." He shrugged, going along with my insanity.

"So, where did you get that hair color?" I said examining his hair.

He raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

I met his gaze. I had no answer to that.

Fortunately, his cell phone rang through the awkward silence. He checked the caller ID and excused himself out of the room to take the call.

"I have to go," he announced on his return.

"Okay." I followed him out as he said his goodbyes to my mom and left.

I had the suspicion this boy was hiding something, and it wasn't just the origins of his strange hair color.