Bound by Blood; Chosen by Fate

Chapter Nine

*🐬*

Light streamed in through the windows, dancing across the floor. My eyes traced the outline of it across the tile, halfway paying attention to what was actually going on in class.

Slowly, my attention traveled to the person sitting in front of me.

His shoulders were hunched, cut sharply against the green of his uniform. His lithe frame was bent over the desk, pencil flitting in and out of my view as he scribbled down the notes with a furious sense of attention.

Almost as if he were trying to ignore me.

Ever since I'd stepped foot into the room, he'd been tense. Wary.

It'd been obvious that he was the user.

I rested my chin on a hand, gaze boring into the back of his head.

His obvious tension told me one of two things.

First, he was nervous. Probably never met anyone else with a stand before. In that case, he was harmless to me. 

Or, second, he was the enemy, and he was attempting to get me to underestimate him by acting nervous and scared.

Which, in that case, my only chance was to knock him out before he had the time to summon his stand and use it against me. Or, if I could, attempt to pass myself off as ignorant.

After my display, yesterday, though...

I let out a quiet huff.

The tips of his ears had flushed, a shade closely matching his hair.

So he could tell I was staring at him.

I waited in silence for a few more moments, the tension building between us as I drilled my stare into the back of his head.

His pencil stilled, eyes still focused on his paper even though I knew his attention was on me. Waiting to see what my next move was.

The teacher's lesson droned on in the background, various squiggles appearing on the board as she ran us through something. Not that I particularly cared to pay attention to it, or anything.

The world seemed to narrow down to the two of us, acute weight building in the air around us. He seemed more uncomfortable than I did, fingers wrapping around the edges of his desk, skin whitening. The sun danced through the edges of his hair, lighting on the curls there.

My desk creaked as I moved, and he stiffened to the point where I thought he was going to break.

I'd only shifted, peering at his desk over his shoulder. His notebook sat open, filled with a neat, looping scrawl. A sketch covered over half of it, his pencil laying across it. It was almost done, only lacking shading in some areas. It depicted a vaguely humanoid form, with bug eyes and a mask over its mouth.

I leaned over further, and I felt the telltale tension spike through the air. He'd summoned his stand.

My body froze, hesitantly waiting for something to strike me. When nothing did, I leaned over further. That tightness in the air ratcheted up, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up.

My chin was nearly level with his shoulder at this point, and I could feel his gaze on me, even though it was focused on his paper. His stand was staring at me, then.

When I spoke, he jolted. Just a little- not enough for anyone who wasn't as close as I was to him to notice.

"Is that your stand?"

He turned his head, and I backed up a little as he rotated his body to face me. He was facing me now, letting me observe his features. I'd seen him before, but my attention hadn't gone to anything but his eyes. Now, though, I carefully let my gaze roam over him.