| hell fire |

32 4 13
                                    

Cold wind gushed past his face, pounding against his eardrums. Blood rushed in his veins, boiling and bubbling with anger and regret. Two emotions he rarely allowed to surface. But tonight, the line had been crossed.

He could still see her face.

Haunting him.

Mesmerising him.

Traumatising him.

And that was what he regretted the most. He knew that the next morning, Tom would tell her the truth. He trusted him to do so. But that would never be good enough for what he was about to do. Or rather, what he was being forced to do.

He wished that he'd gotten more time.

Even a minute more would have been alright. At least, he would have told her. But even just a mere minute seemed too big a gift now.

At least she would hate him. At least she wouldn't be left heartbroken. That's what he wanted to believe. But something told him that she wasn't that kind of girl.

No, she was different.

And he wanted to save her, just as she had saved him.

Straightening his tie, he walked up to the black cars parked in front of the dormitories. Thankfully, everyone was back in the hall, unaware of what was going on. There were men, dressed in official suits, carrying packed bags and keeping the luggage in the cars.

So they've already taken all my stuff.

He gritted his teeth.

Up ahead stood a man all too familiar, even with his back facing him. He stood with a rigid posture, hands behind his back. Avery could already see the smug look that must've been plastered across his face. He wore a brown suit, polished shoes and had dark hair combed back neatly.

The very picture of perfection.

And the very reason of Avery's hatred.

Upon hearing the footsteps of the blue-haired boy, now burning like a hell fire, the man turned around to face him. Sure enough, he had a smug look on his young features. He curved his lips into a devilish smile.

'Hello, little brother.'

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

polaroids Where stories live. Discover now