9I haven't posted anything in a while. "So why not write a follow-up one-shot to the one you wrote years ago?" I told myself.
Oh, why not?
No, you don't need to have read my one-shot from before. This stands alone.
Take it as you will. It's not my best work.
Wyatt Fisher was an ironic enigma. How could one with a last name such as his become a pyromaniac? And how could anyone who could twist flames around his fingers, someone so talented at the fiery art, become the most alienated person to attend Medley High?
Number One: Defiance
Number Two: Arson
He didn't care. He didn't care about his last name, despite how much he hated the two who gave life to him, and he didn't care about the destruction he often caused. That was his character. He didn't want to deal with other people's bullshit. Their petty complaints about the 'woes' in their lives, their back-biting of those they called friends, the fake atmosphere that surrounded them each and every day.
No, thank you. He was perfectly content where he was.
No distractions, no promises to keep.
No one to betray him.
He saw nobody of interest. Their forced smiles and tanned skin all blended together into a mush of melanin. He saw nothing but blurry faces, the way he knew these oblivious individuals ought to be. They were despicable in his eyes, every last one of them. They weren't worth the title of 'human being.' One who was human embodied and garnered compassion, sympathy, and respect for those around them.
He never witnessed a single event such as this occur at the god-forsaken institution he called school.
Not that he was any better.
One day, something changed.
He had decided to skip class for the fourth time that week. It was only Tuesday.
Teachers never said a word of admonishment to him, grateful that they didn't have to deal with the boy whose only lust was fire-based vandalism of property. Never would they forget the time he almost burned down the boy's locker room during his freshman year, a mad glint in his eyes and a feral grin on his lips.
They never turned him in.
His temper was feared, but he himself was ignored. He was the subject of gossip, a very common source of entertainment for the rattlesnakes that made a mouse out of him.
He detested them so utterly much.
Never had they asked the reason for his actions that day, no any other one for the next couple years. It couldn't be justified. Arson, was it not? Defilement? Worthy of arrest?
Medley High didn't dare go against him. Never, for as long as he could remember. It was a power he both loathed and reveled in. Why would they? He belonged to the most influential family in the state, even though said family had disowned him years ago.
His eyes followed the students walking into the lunch room, occasionally stopping on those that peaked his interest for a mere second before turning away from them. He was thinking about leaving the building for a quick smoke break when he saw the flash of color.
Pink.
The girl had cherry blossoms woven into her dark braided hair. The braid itself was intricate, twisted up into a bun at the top of her head. Was that what girls called a French braid, or was it something completely different?
He bet on the latter.
For some reason, he marveled at the sight of the delicate flowers. It made the girl look childish, innocent. Definitely not one of the tank-topped miniskirt-wearing females inside the building. Her dress was simple as well. A Peter Pan collar with a length that ended past her knees, not above them. She complimented the outfit with a pair of white socks and black shoes.
Wyatt was reminded of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.
He scoffed when he saw the girl enter Medley High. It was social suicide. Didn't the girl know any better?
She didn't.
Stares, whispers, mocking eyes, and laughs awaited the child. That much he knew.
Wyatt rolled his eyes, knowing it was none of his business. He flicked his Zippo, on and off and on and off, almost absentmindedly. His mind flickered back to the issue of his prized cigarettes and their short supply. He wondered if the shorter ones would suffice rather than the longer ones he bought at the gas station. They were definitely cheaper, that's for sure, but would they satisfy the craving?
What a first world problem indeed.
He heard a small cry and noticed the girl falling head first to the ground. Courtesy of the outstretched leg of one of the most thick-brained Neanderthals to rule Medley High: Amer Thompson.
They both had similar superiority over every single student in this place, but at opposite poles. He ruled with the admiration of other students following his every footstep and order while Wyatt ruled with the horror of others paving his way.
The girl picked herself up slowly, grabbing her fallen lunch box as she did, before she felt herself getting pushed down again by a flick of Amer's shoe.
"Stay on the ground, bitch," he sneered. "Who said you could come here looking like a kindergartner? Either grow up or get out. Choice is yours."
What a stupid bully. He just wanted someone to pick on, didn't he?
Instead of cowering as Wyatt expected, the girl looked Amer squarely in the eye. "You're picking on me because of how I'm dressed?" she asked, her brow raised. "That's kind of pathetic, even for someone like you. You can do a lot better."
"Excuse me?" Amer stepped forward. "Who do you think you are, mouthing off to me?"
The girl blinked before smiling.
Wyatt held his breath. Her smile… it was nice. Good, even. It was a good change. Her pearly white teeth shone under the artificial lights of the lunch room and her pink lips were pulled at the corners with amusement.
"Talia."
Amer frowned. "What?"
The girl tilted her head in confusion. "You asked me who I was, didn't you? My name is Talia Jean. You can call me TJ if you like. It's what my friends call me."
Amer looked at her for a second before rolling his eyes, immediately losing interest in the girl, and walked away.
The girl huffed and gathered her fallen belongings before heading toward an empty table.
Well, how about that?
"Fisher."
Wyatt looked over his shoulder, only to find a smirking Amer leaning against the wall. "Yo."
Wyatt said nothing, but turned his body to face the jock.
Amer crossed his arms. "How do you feel about a little prank of sorts?"
He raised a brow.
Amer grinned. "We need another guy for our stint tonight. Spray paint the boy's bathroom, crash a few mirrors. You know, the works."
He looked at him with a neutral expression.
"So what do you say, buddy?" Amer held out his hand. "Wanna join in the fun? We all know how much you love tearing things apart."
Wyatt stared at the hand before swiftly turning on his heels and walking away, ignoring Amer's surprised exclamation.
The end of the day came and Wyatt had lost his Zippo, no doubt stolen by one of Amer's cronies in retaliation of his rejecting them. They were that petty.
Fuck them. Fuck them all to hell.
"Here."
He stilled, his eyes widening. What was this girl doing in front of him?
Her lips twitched downward and she shook her hand insistently. "HERE."
Wyatt looked down at her hand and found what she was trying to give him.
His Zippo.
There was no doubt that it was his. The scuffed marks on the side were familiar to the touch. Wyatt instantly felt better, having the object back in his possession.
"Bye."
His eyes showed panic at the word and he quickly grabbed her hand. "Wait!"
The girl turned back to him, her eyes finding his. He held his breath. Her eyes were big, vivid, one of the brightest greens he had ever seen. They looked like they could see through anything, through anyone.
A petal from a cherry blossom fell slowly to the ground.
The girl—Talia Jean… TJ?—looked at him with confusion. "What?"
It was then that he realized what he had done. He quickly let go of her hand and stepped back. "Nothing. Go."
She didn't need another word of encouragement. She left just as fast as she came. Wyatt stared at her retreating figure until he couldn't see her anymore, when she had turned at the corner of 75th Street.
The next time he saw her was after he was done smoking in an alley near his apartment. He moved to toss his cig to the ground when a flash of movement caught his eye. Curious, he inched deeper into the alley and saw a sight that nearly terrified him.
Nearly.
It was the girl, cornered against a wall by one of the town's most well-known drug dealers. Police couldn't arrest him, for they never had any evidence on him, but everyone knew it was him. He was just covert about it. Much too covert for Wyatt's liking.
From what he could see, he was sweet-talking her, convincing her that she hadn't seen a thing. The girl was falling into a sense of security. Little did she know that there was a knife hidden behind the dealer's back, grasped firmly in his dirty hand. Did she really think he would let her go after persuading her not to tell a soul?
She was naïve, innocent. For some reason, it pulled at his heart strings.
"Well, how about it, sweetheart? Do me this favor?"
"Get the fuck away from her."
The man whirled around, revealing the knife to the girl as he did. Her eyes widened with fear, and Wyatt's resolve hardened.
The man's lips curled. "Well, well. If it isn't little Wyatt Fisher. How goes it, kid?"
"I said, get the fuck away from her."
He raised a brow. "And if I don't?"
Wyatt gave him a feral grin, one that made the dealer take a step backward.
"Let's find out, shall we?"
It wasn't hard to figure out what happened next.
He grabbed TJ's arm and dragged her away from the alley. She complied, eager to get away from the scene as soon as possible.
They ended up at the park, a few blocks away from where they started. He didn't dare let go of the girl.
When he did, however, she moved away from him, her eyes wide with something akin to horror. It seemed reality had finally caught up to her, surpassing the shock from the experience.
"You killed him?"
Wyatt shook my head. "Not strong enough. He'll be a bloody mess for a while, but nothing too serious. He's got enough money to patch himself together."
This seemed to placate the girl as she sighed a breath of relief and leaned her back against the trunk of a nearby tree. She looked at him and smiled. "Thanks, I guess."
Wyatt wanted to say something, but he was too entranced by the sight of her smile.
TJ dusted off her skirt and stood up straight. "Time to take my leave." She smiled again. "Really, thank you. I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there."
"Probably die."
She flinched. "Yeah. That." She took a deep breath. "Well, goodbye."
She turned on her heels and walked away.
Wyatt followed her.
"Stop following me."
He ignored her.
"Go away."
No.
"Leave me alone."
"I can't."
"Perverted stalker."
"You wish."
"The hell I do. Why are you doing this?"
"Need to make sure you get home safe and sound."
She didn't utter another word for the remainder of the trip. Her pace quickened, though, as if trying to get home as fast as possible.
He didn't blame her.
"This is me." She pointed to a cozy little house at the end of a cul-de-sac.
Wyatt waited.
She frowned. "What?"
"Go in."
TJ huffed, but did as he asked. The door slammed shut, however it didn't hinder Wyatt from hearing the angry stomps up the stairs. Once on the second story, a window opened—from her bedroom?—and the girl screamed at the top of her lungs.
"GET AWAY FROM MY HOUSE, WYATT FISHER."
As he was demanded to, Wyatt turned on my heels and walked away from said house, but not before grinning and waving goodbye to her.
Two weeks later, he found her sitting high on the branch of a cherry blossom tree.
She had been doing this every day since he started stalking her. After school, her feet led her straight to the cherry blossom tree at the same park where she had thanked him. Sometimes they engaged in conversation, though it was due to grudging reluctance on her part. She still hadn't accepted the fact that he had taken to following her around.
Like today.
"Go home, Fisher."
"Not until you come down and let me walk you home."
He saw her rolling her eyes. "We're in high school, Fish. Lines like that don't exude chivalry anymore. It sounds more like you're hoping to get lucky tonight by following me home."
Wyatt scoffed. No way was he going to take advantage of her at her house. Her mom hardly left the place. No, he'd have to drag her to his apartment.
Which he was planning to do so. With permission first, of course.
"Just come down already."
TJ groaned. "What do you want, Fisher? I don't need your help. I can take care of myself, you know."
Wyatt raised a brow, thoroughly amused. "Really? That's not what it looked like a few days ago, Miss Independent."
"That was all due to a momentary lapse of judgement. You seem to be forgetting the part where the moron said he wasn't going to do anything to me. It was just standard gang intimidation."
Wyatt laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, after I showed up and beat the shit out of him. By the way, you owe me one."
She shook her head. "No, we're even now. I got your lighter back from Amer Thompson and you saved me from a street thug like some fairy-tale hero or whatever."
"Hero, huh?" He smirked at the thought. "Wouldn't that make you my love interest, princess?"
TJ said nothing.
"And I didn't need you to be my little retriever," he continued. "Amer was just pissed off when I refused to join him and his party in another one of his escapades."
"Oh, the bathroom vandalism thing?" She sighed exasperatedly. "That's such an Amer thing to do. So utterly lame."
"Exactly why I didn't do it," said Wyatt, pulling out his infamous Zippo lighter. He flicked it open and close with his thumb, letting the sharp sound echo ever so slightly. "I might've found it more interesting if he was planning to burn it down completely, but he just wanted a quick and easy job that night. Nothing that really gets you excited, you know?"
Hm. Maybe he should burn it down. What a mess it would create. He grinned internally at the thought.
If TJ was fazed by his comment, she didn't show it. "I'm glad you didn't. Those dumb-asses got themselves caught before they could even do anything. Amer and his gang have to be the lamest rebels to ever walk the halls of Medley High."
Wyatt's amber eyes gleamed. "What's this? I didn't expect the princess to worry about me. Maybe my love story will come true faster than I thought." He lit up a small flame with the Zippo.
She looked like she wanted to throw something at me.
"So what did you do?"
The sudden question startled her. "What?"
"What'd you do? There had to be a reason that bastard had you pressed against the building when I saw you in the alley that night. Don't try telling me it wasn't anything serious."
He already knew the answer, of course. How could he not? But he wanted to hear her side of the story. What she was thinking, what she felt, etc.
TJ yawned. "Don't worry about it, Fisher. Like I said, it was a momentary lapse of judgement. The guy was meeting with a supplier and I just happened to see them finish the transaction. When the other dude left, he saw me hiding behind the dumpster and was in the middle of persuading me not to snitch when you showed up."
He furrowed his brows. "And how was that a lapse of judgement on your part?"
She shrugged. "Should've left when I had the chance. I wouldn't have been caught any other way."
"That's stupid."
She glared down at him. "Excuse me? What's so stupid about a girl witnessing a drug deal? I didn't have anything to do with it."
He stood up, dusting off fallen petals from his jeans. "The fact that you were there at all is what's stupid, TJ." And with that statement hanging over their heads, he started climbing the cherry blossom tree.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she growled at him. Cutely, he thought. "Get out of my tree, Fisher. Right now."
He paid no attention to TJ as he continued making his way up. She inched closer and closer to the end of the branch where the support wasn't as assured.
Wyatt finally heaved himself up to the branch and slung his legs on either side of it. He took in the view, nodding appreciatively. "I see why you like it up here. It's nice, almost as if fit for a princess."
TJ's eye twitched. "Wyatt Fisher, you better have a good reason for invading my territory."
At this, Wyatt barked out a laugh. "Your territory? TJ, you might go to school with a bunch of delinquents, but that doesn't turn you into one yourself. As far as anyone is concerned, you're the untitled and secluded princess of Medley High."
"Oh, yeah?" TJ seethed. "Well then, why are you following me around? Two weeks ago, you wouldn't have spared me another look and now you're like my freaking bodyguard."
Wyatt pinned those amber eyes of his on her. "Two weeks ago, I wouldn't have given you a second look. Two weeks ago, I found myself wondering who the hell had got my lighter back to me, TJ."
Her mouth dropped open. "We're back to this?!" TJ scooted closer to him, ready to jab an angry finger in his face. "Listen, you digressing piece of—"
"Just hear me ou—"
"CAN YOU STOP INTERRUPTING ME?"
"Can you?" he asked mirthfully.
She all but groaned with agony. "Fine. Talk. I'll sit here quietly, okay?"
Wyatt regarded TJ with some sense of curiosity. "You know, you didn't give as much of a fight as I thought you would've, princess."
Wyatt could see the gears turning in her head and instantly knew what she was planning. His hand grasped onto her wrist before she could launch herself out of her beloved flowery tree and pulled her against him.
Immediately, TJ's face turned red. "What are you doing? Let go of me!" She struggled against his hold, but his grip turned tight. Gentle, but tight.
"You're going to fall if you keep struggling."
She huffed. "And whose fault would that be, Fisher?"
Wyatt chuckled. "Alright, fine. I'll be serious." He released his hand and TJ retracted her body from his, massaging her wrist.
"Honestly, though. Why'd you bring it back to me?"
She sat still.
"You've heard the rumors. Everyone has. How I shut everyone out, how I play with fire, how I destroy anything I get my hands on. I bet everybody was glad when Amer stole the lighter from me."
She averted her eyes from his. "Does it matter what they think?"
"It always has to me."
The confession hung in the air solemnly as the once overhead sun began its descent toward the unknown horizon.
TJ clenched her fist. "Why do you care about them? They're all a bunch of assholes. They avoid and repudiate you, telling everyone you're a short fuse and can't handle others, but they're the ones who take advantage of you. They refuse to let you fit in just so they can have someone to mock silently behind people's backs. You're nothing but a toy to them."
He was a mouse surrounded by rattlesnakes.
"Not you though." There was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You avoided me, but you avoided them as well. You ended up with as many friends as me."
It didn't take him long to figure out that TJ was as friendless as he was, despite what she had said to Amer. Oh, the things he learned after stalking.
TJ huffed. "So? I don't care whether people like me or not. I transferred here two years ago and saw no reason to get along with any of the idiots here. They're all a bunch of—"
"Assholes, you've said that already," he said, but not without a spark of amusement.
"Actually, I was going to say hypocritical pigs, but that works too," she said. "I don't like repeating the same insult."
At this, Wyatt Fisher laughed. For the first time in a really long time, he laughed. And it felt good. "You're unique, TJ."
"Gee, how long did it take to figure that one out?" she drawled sarcastically.
Wyatt shook his head, still chuckling. "You know, you never answered my question."
TJ faced the sunset, a shadow covering half her face.
"I got your lighter back because I was pissed off. I only ever knew you as the fire-obsessed anti-social kid. That day, when Amer bragged about what he had done, I felt like he had stolen your identity. You were a nobody without it and the fact didn't settle right with me."
Well, excuse him for being a nobody.
The view from the cherry blossom tree was a sight to behold. Dancing wisps of silvery clouds flew across the painted sky. Colors were everywhere. Orange, yellow, salmon, lavender, and those outlining hints of red… And through it all was pink. Pink petals scattering erratically as the wind came in, spreading the light yet succulent scent with it…
"Why do you come up here every day?"
His sudden question threw her off kilter. He wasn't teasing. There wasn't even a hint of a smile on his face.
To his surprise, she giggled. "For the same reason you've been following me for the past two weeks."
"Oh, really?" he asked bemusedly, though not without a small grin. "And what reason is that, princess?"
And for the first time that day, TJ smiled. "It keeps you at peace."
With that, silence built up between them. All that could be heard was the rustling of the flowers as they desperately clung to the branches against the prevailing wind.
Wyatt frowned. Peace? He sure wasn't expecting that as an answer. What peace would he gain from being with this girl?
And then it dawned on him.
He jumped out of the tree and looked up at the girl, reaching his hand up to her and silently urging her to take it.
"What now, Fisher?"
Wyatt gave her the widest grin he could muster. "Come down, TJ. I want to show you something."
She flushed (for some odd reason) and crossed her arms. "What something?"
"How would you like to be the first person to watch me juggle fire?"
She pretended to think about it before grabbing his hand.
"As long as you treat me to dinner afterward. I get hungry after a show."
Ahhh this really isn't my best work. But I like it regardless. Watcha think? Good? Bad? God-awful?