Sympathy For the Devil

3

We walked side by side, the crisp autumn air enveloping us. The tension was palpable. Killian had his hands shoved in his jean pockets keeping his distance from me.

I hugged my arms around myself, feeling the chill of the air and the weight of our unspoken words. The leaves crunched beneath our feet, the only sound breaking the silence.

"Killian?" I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, his molten brown eyes meeting mine. "Yeah?"

"Why don't you go to school?" I asked finally.

Killian chuckled softly. "We haven't seen each other in five years and you ask me that? You are still quite the nerd, Jellie Belly."

My cheeks turned red. "God, is that nickname back? It sucked even back then."

"Come on, I have five years of torture to make up for. Teasing you was the best back then. Your cheeks would always turn the deepest shade of red. Kind of like how they are now." He pointed out with a smirk tugging at his lips. 

I rubbed at my cheek, trying to erase the blush with my fingertips.

"Stop it," I playfully warned.

Killian's grin faltered, his eyes turning serious. "Honestly, Ellie, school wasn't my thing. I had other priorities. My mom tried to homeschool me once, though. I can't say it worked out much."

"I see," I said, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. "Homeschooling can be tough. I can't even imagine if my dad tried to homeschool me. There would be at least one or two heated battles. We are both completely stubborn and head strong. Did you...did you ever think about going back to public school?"

Killian's gaze drifted ahead, his jaw clenched. He hesitated slightly before saying, "Nah, it wasn't an option. Besides, I learned more on my own. I can read whatever I want and learn whatever I have to here. In public school there are too many rules and structures in place to even be able to breath in that suppressive system of bullshit." Killian's eyes darted around as his tone became more closed off and reserved.

I sensed there was more to the story, but Killian's closed-off expression warned me not to pry. He closed his eyes as if remembering a painful memory, but wiped it away with a few blinks.

We walked in silence for a moment, the scattered leaves crunching beneath our feet. The air was filled with the sweet scent of decaying leaves and the distant smell of woodsmoke.

As we turned the corner onto 5th Avenue, the Manhattan chaos enveloped us. Skyscrapers towering above us, their reflective windows glinting like shards of glass. The sounds of honking horns, chattering pedestrians, and wailing sirens created a cacophony of noise.

I closed my eyes, inhaling the iconic scents of New York City: stale soft pretzels, crispy falafel, and sizzling hot dogs wafting from street vendors on every corner. Though locals like myself never eat that crap, these flavors were an integral part of the city's charm, a tourist allure I'd grown accustomed to but lately found myself outgrowing.

A few Wallstreet douches marched past us as they muttered a few choice words at our slowness.

Killian's eyes narrowed at the suited men, his jaw clenched. "Assholes," he muttered.

I smiled wryly. "Welcome to New York."

Killian snorted. "Yeah, where everyone's in a rush to nowhere. Nobody just stops to look around anymore. They are all obliviously glued to their phones."

I nodded in agreement. "It's like they're missing out on the city's actual beauty."

Just then, a tourist stumbled out of a souvenir shop, wearing a ridiculous "I heart NY" t-shirt and a Statue of Liberty crown.