How to Catch a Butterfly

04 | Work of Art

I gulp when my face is pulled close to his and shakily put my hands up in surrender as I gaze up at him in fear. We're so close right now, I can smell orange on his breath. He must've eaten one this morning. I know this guy can snap me like a twig, and I'm really not trying to set him off.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, just calm down, please," I plead softly, hoping it'll ease him. Havik pulls his face away and reluctantly releases me from his hold, much to my relief. His glare remains present, but his shoulders had slumped some, showing that his muscles are no longer tense. Now that he's calm, I deem it safe to kneel down and pick up my school supplies. "So, what is it you need exactly?"

"I want you to meet me at the park every day from now on — at least until I can navigate around those woods on my own." The blonde's tone came out more demanding than requesting. The light blush on his cheeks is new, though. I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from smiling at the sight of it, but it made me think.

'Is he's not sure how to ask nicely?' I mentally laugh at the thought, since Havik isn't exactly known for being nice.

'Maybe he's just mean on the outside? I've seen him act gentle before.' The boy seems shocked by the presence of a smile on my face as I stand straight with my books and folders cradled in my arms, letting his guard down.

"Sure. I don't have much to do after school anyway, so we can go then, okay?" His glare gradually disappears as he nods his head, looking a little relieved, though I'm sure he would've forced me to go anyways if I denied his request. Who knows? Maybe I'll end up on his nice side if I do this? That'd be good, right? I nearly jump when the bell rings, signaling the start of class, and panic because I've rarely been late to a lesson.

"Oh, shit! We gotta go!" I transfer my stuff into one arm before grabbing Havik's hand and dragging him through the halls, causing the teen to stumble over his feet.

"What are you so worried for?" he asks, probably not too concerned about being a few minutes late to class.

"I've never been late," I explain without slowing my run or looking back at the boy. He matches up to my pace, and as soon as we reach the classroom, I swing the door open while panting heavily, out of breath. Heads spin in our direction, and without skipping a beat, Mr. Larson does not fail to point out the obvious.

"You're late, you two." I look over to the clock on the wall and give a depressed sigh when I see we're five minutes late.

'What?! We literally ran! How did it take so long to get here... Oh, yeah, my locker is practically on the other side of the school.' I hang my head to avoid the teacher's scolding gaze. "I know, Mr. Larson. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Havik's eyes soften upon seeing me act like this as he gives a light sigh before shutting them for a moment. His glare returns once they open.

"It was my fault," he claims, causing me to lift my head in surprise. "She was showing me around the school." Mr. Larson hums at this.

"All right, I'll let it slide this time. Just don't let it happen again."

"It won't," we say in unison, and our instructor nods.

"Take your seats." We do so without question, but I began to feel anxious after noticing the stares sent our way. I can just hear the rumors now. While Mr. Larson busies himself with attendance, I look over at Havik and mouth a thank you to show my appreciation for his excuse. The teen swiftly turns away from me, muttering curses under his breath as his fair cheeks turn light pink.