Previously Titled: Sorry I Called You A Bitch

I strode down the hallway, passing by random doors. The walls were seemingly bare. It turned out that a horde of teenage males weren't natural interior designers.

Maybe I could put up a few drawings
or paste some pressed flowers on the wall.
Violets would be quite lovely,
especially against the beige wallpaper.

The one thing I could give the homestead was the smell.  It smelled nice, like a home should, despite the unhygienic teenage boys occupying it. Inhaling deeply, my nose picked up a waft of honey and rosewood.

In my wandering, I came across a room whose door was ajar. Curiosity nudged me to peek my head in, finding a table scattered with medical supplies. There were bandaids of all sorts of colors and patterns, gauze, antiseptic, and rubbing alcohol.

This must be where they fix themselves up if they get injured.

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- Gallery Piece by of Monteal -
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Wanting to see more, I pressed my hand on the door to let myself in. My eyes flitted around, drinking the place in as I stepped through the door frame.

"You lookin' for somethin'?" A husky voice asked. Gally was sitting spread out in a chair, applying antiseptic to his wound.

My mouth dropped open. I closed it, scrambling to find my voice. "Oh- Um- Sorry, I was just-"

"Snooping?" Gally questioned, his brows arching.

"No!" My widened eyes couldn't seem to unstick from his unreadable expression. He gave no leverage or clues as to what he was thinking, his features frozen in place.

Man, he has a killer resting bitch face.

"Relax, Greenie, I'm not gonna rat you out." He looked down at his arm, rubbing a cotton ball on his cut. "Don't be so defensive. People will really think you're up to trouble then."

"What kind of trouble?" I took a seat in the chair opposite him, crossing my arms. Mischief spawned a grin that slowly turned up my lips.

Gally pressed his lips together, locking us in a mutual stare. "Bad trouble." He grumbled before resuming his task at hand.

I put my feet on the floor and decided to petulantly lean my chair back. "I didn't know there was such a thing as good trouble," Although my eyes feigned innocence, a smirk stayed on my face all the while.

Gally picked up his chin, halting at cleaning his wound once more. He was squinting his eyes. My pulse skipped a beat.

"There's not." Sharply replying, he nodded toward my chair which was still leaning back. "And if you don't quit that you're gonna fall over."

"Will not."

I leaned back further in defiance.

"Will too." Gally shot back quickly.

"Will not." I pressed as I leaned even more. Confident in challenging him, I could feel my chest puffing out.

"Will too."

"Will-"

The next thing I felt was the floor against my back, accompanied by a huge crash. My spine suffered the worst of the fall, hissing against wooden planks.

"Told ya." He said gruffly, his eyebrows rising momentarily and falling back. The fact that Gally was right only kept him half-amused.

I scrambled back up to my feet, dusting myself off. A dull pain flushed from the base of my skull. "Ouch." I rubbed the area that ached.

"Well, I told you." Gally stayed focused on his cut, not bothering to keep his eyes trained on me anymore. Apparently, I wasn't worth the trouble.

Oh, please,

your stupid scratch can't be that captivating.

"Yeah, I know you told me," I spat, settling into a sullen mood. Leaning my back against the wall, I watched him pick up a cotton ball from the medical supplies set out and dab himself with it. "What are you even doing anyways?"

"I'm cleaning the cut you gave me when I tried to help you out of the box."

He flexed the injury toward me and kept the tear in his shirt open with two fingers. It was to show me what I had done. To display the damage I had caused. I looked. I had to. I got the idea I sort of owed that to him.

On his freckled skin, there lay a clean slit, spanning about two to three inches across muscled flesh. It was wet, oozing as blood pooled to the surface, on its way to scab over.

"Killer cut," My tone eased up, softening now that I was a little less sure of myself. He sure knew how to take me down a peg. I stayed quiet until he finished and wrapped a snug bandage over the gash. "Sorry." Blurting was becoming a habit of mine. Gally lifted his chin, allowing me to see his face. The boy's hot-headedness had cooled, features relaxing as I spoke. "I'm sorry I cut you."

"Thanks." He acknowledged me with a ghost of a nod, indulging in eye contact. "Sorry I called you a bitch. You're not a bitch." The corner of his mouth quirked up and he added, "Just kind of annoying."

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

The sound of shoes clambering up the stairs echoed through the hallway and all the way to the medical room. Seconds later the half-closed door burst open. A boy I recognized as young-faced Chuck tumbled through.

"There you are!" His voice strained with exasperation, eyes wide as a doe's. "I've been looking for you everywhere! I need to show you around at least a little bit." He took thoughtless steps over to me, his walk similar to a newborn foal's, and grabbed my hand. The next thing I felt was my body being yanked away and forced out of the room by the likes of this pre-pubescent boy.

"Oh, okay, just take me away then. Not like I care or anything." I managed, my speech lilting with every step of the staircase he pulled me down. When we reached the outside, I wrenched my hand out of his. "Geez, Chuck, you think you could give me a warning next time?"

He turned to me with his hands on his hips, trying to emulate a sense of authority with his chest puffed out. "Well don't go sneaking off like that then. You could've gotten hurt y'know."

The porch creaked. I glanced down and stifled a laugh. The kid was trying to make the most of his meager height, standing on the tips of his shoes.

Turning my lips up into a smirk, I decided to entertain him. "From what?"

Chuck didn't smile, replying with a stern glare as Gally came out of the homestead and passed by us. My eyes trailed after the tall boy, seeing him being welcomed by boys that I presumed were his friends off in the distance.

"Not what, who," Hissed the kid, reaching up to force my gaze away from the reunion. "Stop that! He'll see!"

"Gally? You're scared of Gally?"

Laughter poured fruitfully from my lips. His tentative nature was comical. Chuck scowled at this and his small hand clapped over my mouth, muffling my giggles. Once again he affixed his hand to mine and pulled me along like a dog on a leash. We walked--more like he led me--toward a building in the off-center of the glade.

"Have you seen him?! I'm surprised you didn't klunk your pants when you were left alone with that guy!"

I rolled my eyes at him as we arrived at the edge of what seemed to be an outdoor kitchen.

"Oh, no, Chuck you're totally right, and here comes Gally now!" The tenor of my voice sweetened, pitching up. Dramatically, I placed a hand on my forehead like a damsel in distress and stumbled around in a fearful fashion. "Hide me! Who knows what he could do!"

Chuck's hands shot up to his head, rooting into his curls. A whimper of distress left the boy and he quickly whipped around. Upon seeing that Gally was far away on the complete opposite side of the glade, a sour expression darkened his face.

Aw,

he's cute when his nose scrunches up like that.

"That's not funny." He pouted as I tipped my head back, cackling into the purple sky.

Due to my snickering, I wasn't exactly focused on a little thing called watching where I was going, and after catching my foot on a rock, my body was sent nosediving to the ground. I would've eaten serious shit if I hadn't been conveniently caught by a pair of strong arms.

My chin knocked into my savior's shoulder, causing the bottom teeth in my mouth to click painfully against the top ones. "Mmh, shit! Fuck me! Ow! Fuck!" Karma had bitten me in the ass and God did it hurt. It was Chuck's turn to laugh. I instinctively brought a hand to my lips and opened my eyes to see the hero who had caught me.

A coy smile played across his face, his eyes shining brightly. He had heard my cries of pain. I knew from the flirty way he bit down on his lips.

Oh, Christ,

I can't even get hurt without that being a turn-on?!

"What's this about Gally?" He pushed me back onto my feet, his jaw squaring as he did so. Once we were parted, I got a good look at him and he got an in-depth one of me. He had a swagger to his slant and posture, crossing sinewed arms over his chest. well-groomed hair. His hair was enviable, shiny, and black. Far-off light flickered across his face. He was Asian. The guy was looking me up and down, fascinated. "Wow, they weren't kidding. You really are hot."

Flirt.

A Handsome flirt.

I had to be calm. You have to keep your confidence around flirts. There is power in confidence.

"And who's this they you speak of?" I questioned, shoving any embarrassment I had felt away.

His eyes, hued hickory, chased mine. The flirt flashed me a smug grin. "Sources I can't reveal at this time." He straightened, filling out the fitted shirt he wore. The cocky boy stuck out a flat, broad hand and introduced himself. "Minho, keeper of the runners." Without hesitation, I slid my palm into his. Worked skin met mine. "I think it's worth mentioning I do the job that only the smartest and jacked can get."

"Mmh, but you're totally not gloating at all right now." There wasn't a single part of me that dared to look away. Not even to blink.

"Oh, of course not, M'lady." Minho's eyes were cornered in crow's feet, his face animated. We snickered together in secret, Chuck stared at us clueless.

"What are you guys even talking about? Come on, Green Bean, I wanna show you the kitchens." Chuck seized my hand, tugging so I would follow him. My feet remained planted for a spell and my brow quirked at Minho until Chuck pulled hard.

As I was hauled away, I saluted Minho. "Farewell, Good Sir, may we meet again someday!" Chuck shoved me towards the kitchens. We were right about to enter the cooking area when a boy I recognized from the gathering blocked the entrance. His arms folded over his chest, throwing Chuck a tight-lipped expression.

"Fry..." My boyish companion flashed him a pleading look.

Fry is an interesting nickname.

I wonder where this tall kid got it from.

"No way you're gettin' in my kitchen, Little man." Fry stood stern over Chuck and I, armed with a wooden spoon. He also had a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. Several boys weaved around each other quickly behind him, talking loudly, and hovering over pots, pans, ovens, and mixing bowls.

"But look! I'm showing the new greenie around and she's never seen the kitchen before." Chuck protested, giving me a small push forward to present me to Fry. The round little boy had an impish shine to his button brown eyes.

"Nuh-uh, you're not coming in." The, I assumed chef of the glade, maintained firmly, standing his ground. Chuck's bright face fell, leaving him to stare at the ground glumly. Fry flicked his gaze from him to me, gesturing toward me with his spoon. "She can though." Warming me with his smile, he stuck out a free hand. "Hey, I'm Frypan, but everyone calls me Fry."

"I'm- I actually have no clue what my name is." My nervous babbling causes a rich timbery chuckle to emerge from Frypan's throat.

"It happens to all of us." He motioned for me to come inside. I obliged, peeking around and stepping right in.

Frypan turned around one last time and pointed a firm finger at Chuck. "Stay," he commanded, leaving puppy-eyed Chuck leaning against a counter, chin in his hands. Fry flipped himself back to me, shaking his head. "Sorry about that. That little shank's always sneaking into my kitchen and stealing things! Well, food to be specific." He had a comforting air to him, talking with his arms and hands. It felt as I could see his words when he spoke. "Anyways here, lemme show you the kitchen!"