The Dead Poets

30

My heart sinks to the floor, as I watch Charlie's fist viciously connect with the boy's rather smug face. Who, with every punch, looses an ounce of his confinement aroma.

I glance over at Neil and Knox, who look equally horrified. Neil's face is a mixture of shock and worry, while Knox looks as though he's about to be sick.

I step forward slightly, only to have my arm firmly grasped by Jack, who gives me a stern glare.

I quickly shimmy my arm from his hold, stepping forward to reach Charlie.

"Stop it!" I shout, loud enough to be heard by whatever has possessed Charlie to acquire such a violent streak.

I warily reach my arm towards him. My hand grabbing hold of his untucked white button-down shirt.

"Charlie!" I shout, tugging on the cotton fabric.

Neil lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Charlie's frantic frame, pining his arms by his side, and pulling him backwards.

Embarrassed, I glance over my shoulder at the rather large crowd that's formed, until I catch Jack's chocolate brown orbs.

I saw nothing short of surprise and a hint of disapproval, written across his slightly rose-tinted, freckled face.

I trailed shamefully behind a scolding Neil, forcefully dragging Charlie away from the scene. I bow my head, avoiding Jack's intense gaze.

I wished for nothing more, than for the earth to open, and swallow me whole. Though, the very noticeable red shade to my angered cheeks, and the knot that failed to leave my stomach, told me otherwise.

A shiver coursed through my body, once my warm skin was met with the harsh, frigid winter air.

"What the hell was that?" Neil shouted, slightly shoving Charlie once he'd released him from his firm grasp.

I watched my breath escape my mouth like smoke clouds in the cold air. My arms hug my body tightly, as an ominous silence falls upon us.

Charlie is quite passionate about a variety of things, which often leads to a rather defensive personality. However, I failed to believe he was foolish enough to fall directly into the trap of a senseless bully. At least, I'm assuming the fight began over the cocky disposition of a high-nosed public student.

I felt a sudden warmth engulf my frame, as Charlie gently placed his wrinkled Welton blazer around my shoulders. My hands immediately reach for the collar, as I wrap myself deeper into the comforting scent that was his musky aroma.

We stood in the cold, tense silence, awaiting Charlie's presumably asinine excuse, until an indignant Knox barged through the swaying exit doors.

"Christine could have seen that!" Knox spoke melodramatically, as he slumped his back against the snow clad brick wall.

"Sorry, Knoxious," Charlie's hoarse voice spoke lowly for the first time.

"If it makes you feel any better, he deserved it," he finished, a small smirk playing at his lips, but gauging the seriousness of the situation, he managed to refrain.

Knox simply sighs, his gaze fixated on the heavy flakes falling slowly atop the large mounts of snow.

"Well, I suppose there's no sense in arguing about it," Neil spoke softly. Neil was nothing if not a peacekeeper. He detested any kind of tension and loathed arguing.

He offered Charlie a small smile, "besides," he began, walking back towards the doors leading into the heated building, "you have a mean right hook."

In the midst of everything, I had failed to notice the small patch of dried blood that stained Charlie's lower lip.

"You're hurt," I said, pointing to his mouth, as we walk side by side, trailing behind Neil and Knox, in the now vacant school halls.

His hand flung to his slightly swollen lip, followed by an almost immediate wince.

"Here," I spoke softly, gently grabbing his hand, and leading him towards the nearest bathroom.

He hoisted himself onto the counter, his back resting against the fingerprint-smudged mirror.

I ran a clump of brown paper towel under the lukewarm water that fell from the faucet.

"So, what'd he do?" I ask curiously, my hand gently dabbing the damp napkin against his cut lip.

He winced, his gaze averting mine, as he so blatantly avoided the question.

I huff, reaching my arm to turn off the tap, until his warm hand stops my movement.

"Wait," he sighs, jumping down from the counter, and levelling his eyes with mine.

"It was about you."

"-Me?" I question incredulously.

"Mhmm," he hums in response, his gaze leaving mine once again, as he fiddles with his hands.

"He found you attractive, I guess. I just had to put him in his place," he spoke quickly, clearly withholding the better part of the story. Though, I chose not to dig any further into the matter. 

"Well, judging by these bruised knuckles, I think you managed that," I said half jokingly.

His hands fell gently on either side of my face, his eyes staring dreamily into my own.

His breathing becomes softer. His heated expression melting into a warm smile.

"What?" I giggle, a light blush creeping onto my freckle-clad cheeks. The oh-so familiar feeling that a dozen butterflies have erupted somewhere deep inside my stomach, becoming increasingly apparent.

"Nothing," he spoke softly, twisting a strand of my hair lazily around his index finger.

"I just love you."