Eloise Howard is the new girl with a dangerous curiosity and hot-headed temper.
Isaac Lahey is the boy that has a knack for making her blood boil.
Long story short, they're both stubborn and it's complicated.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
...
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11. want me to kill that guy for you
ﾟ. : ･*: ✧ ｡･:* : ﾟ
Eloise was practically crushing the dark pen in her hand, body tense as the scene unfolded in front of her.
The class was deadly silent, everyone's eyes locked onto the strawberry blonde at the front blackboards that had let out the ear-splitting shriek. Eloise couldn't help but feel the sick pang in her chest as she watched her friend slowly spin to face the class. Her grip on the plastic pen tightened as she saw the absolute terror written across Lydia's face. She was silently shaking, frozen in shock like a deer in headlights. Her gaze was distant, staring off into nowhere as the tears welling in her hazel eyes began to smudge the mascara from her lashes.
She looked terrified.
"Okay, then..." Coach Finstock's voice cut through the silence with an uneasy chuckle. "Anybody else want to try answering? This time in English?"
Uncomfortable laughter rang through the class, but Eloise couldn't take her eyes off of Lydia. Keeping her eyes trained to the ground, the strawberry blonde numbly walked back to her desk and slowly sat back down. The laughter from the other students around her infuriated the blonde. Whatever had triggered the panic attack, had fundamentally rattled her usually steely and hard-cut friend, frightening her to the core.
"What is that, Greek?" Scott whispered to her and Stiles, snapping Eloise's gaze from Lydia to the handwriting on the blackboard. She couldn't quite decipher what her friend had scrawled in large either, the chalk letters foreign to her.
"No, actually, I think it's English..." Stiles said, raising his phone up to them. He had taken a picture of the writing on his phone and inverted it. The words spelled out and Eloise could clearly read the reversed writing.
SOMEONEHELPME
She felt the chills of uneasiness creep down her spine paired with the juxtaposition of the familiar growing warmth in her hands as she focused on controlling her bubbling anger.
There was a small popping noise and Eloise looked down to see that, in attempting to control her racing emotions, she had unintentionally melted the plastic casing of the black pen. She quickly hid her clenched fist under the desk table before assessing the damage. Slowly opening her hand, frustrated annoyance washed over the teen as she gazed at the pitch blank ink that had spread across the entire surface of her palm.
This was becoming a growing problem, the inability to control and properly harness whatever power this was. She couldn't lose control of these melting abilities every time she grew angry, which with her hot-head temper, happened far too often for there to be continuously combusting pens, pencils, or whatever else she held onto.
