Promise?

Chapter 3

“Claire! Is it him?”

Lyric snapped his eyes open to see Zeke, a reasonably tall boy with blonde hair and brown eyes. he was also in his final year, and they even shared a few classes, but the two had never spoken before. His eyes landed on Lyric’s neck, and they widened. “What happened to your neck?”

Claire came over, looking at him, and she nodded. “Yes, it’s him. Thanks, Zeke. Remind me to buy you coffee. Now, get lost.”

“Why?” he whined.

“Because he’s in asshole mode and you’re you, and if you cry Kaito will get bitchy with me.”

“I am not sensitive,” he deadpanned. Lyric blinked a few times; no one had said he was sensitive, so he guessed and knew it, too.

Claire stared at Zeke, a bored look on her face. “You cried when Sherlock killed himself, you knew he was still alive.”

“He died in front of John!” he said, eyes wide. “I cried because I imagined what John went through. His best friend killied himself in front of him, I’d sob if Kaito died, especially if he died in front of me,”

Lyric looked at the two of them, slightly confused. Sherlock and John? As in Sherlock Holmes. He didn’t kill himself, did he? He made a little reminder to himself to check out the books if the library had them.

Claire stared before Zeke sighed, nodding. “Okay, good point, I’m leaving.” Zeke turned on his heel and left.

“I’m avoiding you. Why are you here?” Lyric snapped, glaring at her. She ignored him, taking a seat beside him. Lyric’s glare deepened. “Don’t do that, get up, bitch.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now, Lyric. Is that the way you talk to your only friend?”

“You aren’t my friend, leave me alone, freak.”

“That’s a lot coming from you.”

“I know,” Lyric deadpanned. “Leave.”

Claire pouted.

Lyric paused at how pretty she looked. Everyone knew Claire was hot. They knew it, and so did she. She got around a lot. She was hot, bright and even friendly at times. Lyric had even heard the rumours that she had ruined multiple marriages. Her dark skin was clear without a blemish in sight, and her long hair had been dyed an ombre of dark purple and dark blue, and even her fashion sense suited her—black and leather, with her iconic knee-high boots, with a stiletto six-inch heel.

Lyric made a face. He could use her.

“Get up,” he said as he stood up, packing his things away. “Follow me.”

He didn’t need to turn to check if she was following him; he could hear her shoes hitting the ground. They walked to the back of the school and climbed the gates.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they walked side by side out of the school grounds.

“My house,” Lyric said. “There’s a high chance my mother’s current boyfriend will open the door. I need you to seduce him.”

“Why?” she asked; Lyric didn’t reply.

Claire would distract Lyric’s mother’s boyfriend. Lyric would sneak in through the back door and grab his inhaler and cigarettes for when the hunger pangs began. He’d need to sneak into his room, grab some of his warmer clothes, and get out.

When Claire realised Lyric wouldn’t say why, she dropped the topic and silently followed behind him.

Arriving at his house, Lyric points to the door. “There. Distract whoever opens it.”

She smirked as she eyed Lyric and then the door. She tied her hair in a loose ponytail, pulling some strands out as she walked to the door.

Lyric didn’t wait to see their interaction. He began moving to the back of the house and entered through the back. His mother never locked the back door; she was always too high to remember.

Lyric walked through the door; he saw the cigarette pack on the counter and snatched it up, slipping it into his pocket. His eyes widened when he saw what was sitting on the opposite counter beside the knives.

The asshole had stabbed Lyric’s inhaler canisters, and all the salbutamol had escaped. Lyric shoved his fingernails into his palms, trying to distract him. He moved past his mother, who was sleeping naked on the couch.

Lyric tip-toed past the current boyfriend. To her surprise, Claire frowned a little but got the boyfriend distracted.

Lyric opened the door and scowled as his clothes had been thrown carelessly in town.

Lyric was slowly beginning to panic. How would he survive a week without his inhalers? Without any warm clothes?

Lyric rushed downstairs quietly and snuck back out the door. He went to the front of the house, waiting in the distance as Claire ran over.

“That was awful,” she deadpanned, as she grimaced and Lyric shrugged.

He would say he was sorry, but he wasn’t sorry; he needed to do what had been done for his survival.

When Lyric didn’t speak, she sighed.

“Back to school, then,” she said with a grin. “I need to stop by Costa. I promised the idiots I’d get them drinks, and I plan to win this year.”

It jarred Lyric slightly how she didn’t care that Lyric wasn’t trying very hard in the conversations; by now, people would be sick of how one-sided it was and just move on.

Lyric quietly followed behind Claire, lost in thought. He knew he needed warm clothes. So he would be fine if he got a single two-litre bottle and bought some second-hand clothes. But who would he get his inhalers? He knew he wouldn't last very long in this weather without his inhalers.

“Lyric, what do you want?” Claire’s voice seemed to bring him out of thought.

“What?” he snapped.

Claire rolled her eyes. “To drink?”

Lyric's eyes widened. He could get a warm drink if he didn't have warm clothes. It would keep his insides warm in the least.

“Claire,” he said, he couldn't help the smile on his face. “You’re a genius! And hot chocolate.”

“With cream?” she asked, and Lyric nodded. “Why am I a genius?”

“Because,” he said, not giving an accurate answer.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” she asked, and once again, Lyric didn’t know how to feel. Why was she so bothered? It annoyed Lyric a lot, but it was sweet at the same time, but more annoying. “You live half an hour away from school, do you walk every day?”

He nodded. “ISn’t that and for your asthma?”

He nodded once again.

“Are you changing modes?” she asked as she eyed him. Lyric shrugged.

He didn’t know why it happened or what caused them to change. But he knew each mode lasted for different amounts of time each time. The longest time for each was varied. Asshole’s mode longest time was a month. Sarcasm mode lasted six weeks. And with the longest being quiet mode, which had lasted six months.

He hoped he stayed in quiet mode for a while, he really needed a break from the violence.

~*~