Page 54 of The Blackened Blade

“...F-find a seat Mr. Portor.” Mr. Finch nods his head shakily, before quickly turning back to the board. There's a slight tremble in his hand as he picks his marker back up and continues the lesson.

The tall boy–I now recognise as the stabby guy from before–starts to make his way up the stairs.

The group in the seats at the back begin to scurry like mice, grabbing their bags and fleeing across the room. One of the boys even takes the seat next to me in his rush to get away.

The boy is almost a third of the way up the stairs when our eyes meet. But I quickly turn back toward Mr. Finch, my brows furrowing as I question why I turned away in the first place.

A moment later, a large shadow falls over me.

“Move.” The familiar deep voice is more dark and cutting and I feel a chill roll down my spine with his cold tone.

Lifting my head, my eyes quickly trail up his large frame and toward his ruffled hair. It’s falling onto his face and covering a part of his eyes. But even then, I could still feel the murderous glare he was wearing.

Was he going to do this with every seat I sat on? I was even in the middle section today, so why would he want it?

Just as I open my mouth to tell him to ‘get his own’, the boy beside me pulls my attention away as he falls over his own feet trying to get up. He stumbles, grabbing his bag and rushing toward an empty seat across the room.

What–

A tired sigh pours from the lips of the tall moody boy as he lazily flops in the newly vacated seat beside me. He places his arms down on the desk, before leaning his head on them like a pillow.

I glance toward the top of the class and all the empty seats up there, and then back toward the boy sitting beside me.

His dark brown hair falls onto his arms and hands, which are encased by black swirls of ink, all the way down to his fingertips. He wears a silver skull on his thumb and a couple of black snake rings on his other fingers. There's a heavy leather jacket draped over his shoulders, clearly a favourite of his if the wear and tear on the cuffs and hem are any indication. The leather collar covers most of his neck with only a small part of the ink there visible.

A small dot behind his ear catches my attention with his hair parted so I can make out the small freckle or birthmark. It’s surrounded by more dark swirls of ink, and only parted by a silver metal piercing hanging from his ear. The small metal glistens against the classroom light, pulling me in for a closer look.

On his ear sits a small dangling metal dagger, falling from a short black chain. It's decorated with a black handle and…a ruby red droplet falling from the blade's tip.

I guess calling him ‘stabby’ was an appropriate nickname.

The small earring begins to move and I’m met with two piercing blue eyes, just inches from my face. I pull back, not realising I had gotten so close.

A grin spreads across his face as he turns his head fully around to watch me.

“Did you eat breakfast yet, Red?”

My brows furrow with his question. Why would he care if I ate?

And was this‘Red’nickname a permanent thing now?

I nod anyway, a larger grin stretching his lips as his eyes light up.

“And I suppose you sat in my seat?”

This again.He really had an issue with this didn’t he, like some sort of toddler who licks all his food before eating so he doesn't have to share. But I had been using that table for a fair amount of time now, and not once had he, or anyone else been around to tell me otherwise.

I sigh, “It's not yours, it’s-”

“But it's got my name on it.” His eyes curve up in a crescent shape, a mischievous gleam in them as he continues. “Didn’t you see it?”

My brows scrunch together before quickly widening.ANNEX.

It wasn’t a new curse word or hex?

A smile the joker would be proud of now stretches his cheeks as he watches me.

The psycho had actuallycarvedhis name onto the seat to claim it indefinitely as his own and make his point.

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