𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖔𝖓: 𝕮𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖙

The Fire

Y/N's blood was ice cold as the P4 all looked at her like she was a bleeding deer and they were all wolves starved. Every cell of Y/N's body was screaming at her to run, to hide, to get away from that gazebo. But her legs felt like they were made of lead. She couldn't move them even if she tried. Her heart was hammering in her ears like thunder and her blood felt like ice as it froze in her veins. It felt like there was no one else in the entire world, just Y/N and the P4. And they were going to kill her. They were going to beat her to death with their bats and books, they were going to tear her flesh to shreds, and then they were going to throw whatever was left of her into the pond below their feet and let the fish and algae claim her bones.

Y/N knew she had to move. She had to escape. She had to get the Hell out of there now! She would not fall victim to these men as she had to the Undertaker. She would not be thrown into a cramped basement and chained to the floor only to be beaten black and blue and bloody. She wouldn't let them catch her, not again!

Y/N shifted her weight onto the balls of her heels and was mere moments away from jumping backwards and sprinting off to god knows where when Edward, oblivious to the obvious shift in the mood, broke Y/N's terrified spell. "If I recall, Derrick Arden is the Son of Duke Clemens, right?"

"Yes," Ciel nodded. He too had sensed the change in the P4, just as Y/N had. And if she had bolted, he wouldn't have had any choice but to stay behind all by himself.

"I didn't expect either of you to know him," Edward hummed. He looked slightly confused as to why Y/N looked so suddenly startled and panicked, but he said nothing. Ciel always did have the strangest friends, after all.

"We played many times when I was little," Ciel lied.

Y/N picked up right after him with, "And my father has one or two business deals with his father, I believe."

Cheslock was impressed as evident by his 'Hohh?' And it seemed he was also totally unaware of the P4's sudden change. Clearly the P4 knew something about whatever fog and smoke seemed to surround and completely shroud Derrick Arden. But their Fags, on the other hand, were totally oblivious to whatever had happened to him.

"According to what my father said, Derrick was residing in Red House," Y/N nervously added. She gauged the P4's reactions very carefully, and while they still weren't themselves, their gazes had certainly gone from murderous to secretive. She was pushing in a direction they didn't like, but wasn't completely dangerous to whatever it was they were hiding. "He said I should try to make friends with him if I had the chance."

"I essentially felt the same, and was surprised upon my arrival to learn he had been transferred to Purple House," Ciel told them all, trying to take some of the heat off of Y/N.

It was Bluewer who spoke next, tearing his eyes away from Y/N to pick his book up once more and resume his reading. "It took us some time to notice his true personality, you see."

"He was my Fag for a time as well," Redmond trailed off. While he was no longer looking at Y/N, she couldn't help but feel as if he was somehow still watching her closely. "A very capable young fellow."

"Quite," Greenhill agreed. He didn't look away from Y/N and Ciel as Redmond had, instead he forcefully softened his gaze. He was trying to appear calm and nonthreatening. It would've been a smart move if he wasn't painfully bad at it. "He was certainly talented... However..."

"He was peculiar, at the very least," Violet mumbled. He, like Greenhill, hadn't looked away but instead was just staring at Y/N with his usual expression of indifference. Truly he looked completely unbothered, if you looked only at his face. Ciel didn't notice it, but Y/N saw the way the Purple Prefect's hands trembled ever so slightly as he clutched his sketchbook and charcoal.