Sparks [Completed]

[A Pint Of Red]

Bella comes home considerably more bright, and Charlie practically beams at it.

I'm a little too deep in thought to respond. It's only after Charlie cringes and tells me to stop cracking my knuckles that I realise I've been doing it repeatedly.

After seeing that poster, I have felt restless all day. My hands keep scrunching up, tensing and relaxing over and over.

My first method of trying to calm it, is drawing. But that makes my chest hurt too much. The sun goes down, and I can't sleep.

Ping!

The noise takes my attention immediately. All of the fidgeting dies as I smile reading the message.

Any time to talk, darling?

Of course. Did anything exciting happen in class today?

Not really. I've memorised most of what we're doing now. Although, it is entertaining to feel the panic and confusion that steeps that room. What about you? Done anything?

I got my hair cut today. I'm not sure you'd like it, though.

Darling, if you like it, that's enough. Anyway, nothing could make you look bad.

We talk for around an hour, then I have to bid him goodnight. That always makes me sad, but Jasper assures me he'll check in tomorrow.

He hasn't broken a single one of this promises, so I go to sleep contented.

In the morning, my restlessness returns with a vengeance. I practically drive Charlie up the wall within ten minutes.

To prevent my imminent murder, I throw on a coat and go for a walk. Bella has already left for Jacob's place, so no chance of getting a lift.

It's raining, obviously. But a lot harder than yesterday. I'm soaked before I reach the second set of traffic lights.

My eyes skim across that poster again, my hands twisting in my pockets. Some guy spots me looking, and grins at me through the sheet of rain.

"The underground is dangerous for those who don't know the rails," he says, showing a chipped tooth.

The words slip from my lips before I can think. "I've split my skin tripping enough times to know where to put my feet."

He leans against the lampost, crossing his arms to accentuate the bulging biceps. "So, you're a fighter?"

"Mhm," I nod, keeping my level gaze on him.

"Should I know you?" He asks, mockery decorating his voice.

I take my hands from my pockets, allowing the jacket to open enough for the necklace to be seen. It seems to glow in the shitty light, holding its own form of electricity.

His eyes widen, then drift to the shaved part of my head. "Ah...Blitz...would you like to know where to go?"

I have a six second internal struggle. And my rational mind loses. "Yeah."

He nods, swallowing tightly as he steps back, straightening his back. "Go to the Black Bull Inn and ask for a pint of Red."

The man walks off into the rain, disappearing down an alley. My feet carry me towards the Inn before I realise where I'm going. Apparently, I've been here.

It's a small, blackened building with the telltale signs of age. The steps outside are worn, and the brickwork has cracks in it near the ground.

I enter, the door swinging shut behind me. Roaring drunken laughter assaults my ears instantly, making me wince. I've never liked loud noises.