Eleanor was on her way to music, head somewhat in the clouds as she made her way down the corridor. Her feet moved on their own accord, stepping forward without much help from her brain. And this was a good thing, really, because her thoughts were focused on far more important things. Things that sat a little higher on her priority list than walking down a corridor.

Like, for example, how the mysterious death caller couldn't possibly be Liam. And she had plenty of evidence to back this up. Sort of. It was more the case of there being one piece of verification that ruled him out altogether. And this confirmation was as petty as it was ridiculous. But it made sense. Sort of. Did it? Of course it did. It couldn't be Liam because there was no way in hell that she'd actually be able to hold a decent conversation with him, right? There was no way that she could actually enjoy talking to Liam...right? Right. So it wasn't Liam. It couldn't be. Time to move on to other suspects. 

But who else could it possibly be? She'd already ruled out Nate and Liam, so who was left? The voice was distinctly male, even with the voice altered. Had Nate passed on the information about her music to someone else? Had she told someone else about her music by accident? It would have been highly likely that she might have told Brendan. But then again, what reason would he have to-

Eleanor was suddenly knocked back as she collided with something hard and firm. Something soft and warm. In her absent-minded state, she first regarded the object she had collided with to be a wall. This then led to profound curse words escaping her mouth for not paying enough attention to where she was going. But then she realised something else. A very important detail. Something that caused incredibly vulgar words to spring to her mind. Because walls were inanimate objects. They did not move. They did not have arms and they most certainly did not have hands to prevent her from falling to the floor. 

Hovering somewhat horizontally in the air, she felt rather than saw a pair of hands setting her upright once more. She must have closed her eyes at some point, perhaps in anticipation of her fall, because she couldn't see a thing. However, she felt less obliged to open her eyes when a familiar scent assaulted her nose. A very particular, very expensive cologne that she accustomed with one particular person. The smell was so familiar that it suddenly reminded her of the hands still gripping her forearms. She silently begged for it not to be him, assuring herself that lots of boys wore the same cologne, because if it was him then...that really sucked. Because she had put in a lot of effort to avoid him, even after his valiant change of heart to suddenly want her back.

Cautiously, and dreading the worst, she opened one eye at a time. Only to come face to face with what she had feared. 

Never one with an ability to hold her tongue, she let out a string of godforsaken words before she could stop them.

"Hello to you too, Eleanor," her captor said with an amused chuckle, a small smile tugging at his lips rather than his usual smirk. It threw her off guard slightly. Everything from the soft curve of his lips to his loose posture and the gentle caress of her shoulders suggested that he was happy to see her. It was so easy to believe. A rhythm of returned happiness that was oh so easy to fall into. Just as she had a thousand times before. But she knew better now. Didn't she? Now she knew that it was all fake. The smile. The touch that still somehow managed to fill her with a strong sense of anticipation. All fake. All a lie. Because she knew the real him now, the deceptive, manipulative person that could have her singing his tune with a single hum of his melody.

Desperately, she searched his face for any sign of an off-key note, anything that might hint of his happiness at seeing her being anything but genuine. But she came up short. Nothing. And it terrified her because this was what she had feared the most. This is why she had avoided him. Even though she had seen the face beneath the mask, she could no longer see the real him now that the mask had been replaced. As charming as ever and desperate to make her forget the monstrosity beneath. And she was in danger of succumbing to the pied piper's tune. She could feel it. One word from him and she'd be hypnotised all over again.

Alarmed at the thought, she stumbled backwards out of his arms. There was no grace in her actions, dark eyes turning on dark eyes as she found herself unable to break herself from his gaze. After all this time she still seemed unable to fragment his hold over her.

"Ellie?" Brendan's tone was deliberately soft, not wanting to panic her more than she already seemed to be. Her tanned skin had turned a few shades paler and her eyes, the colour as hard to decipher as ever, were wide as if she was struggling to take in what was in front of her. She was still as beautiful as ever, though, and his eyes couldn't help but praise the way her caramel skin complimented her long, dark hair. A colour so close to black that it evoked the memory of Eleanor constantly reminding him that it was only very, very dark brown. He smiled at the welcome recollection.

"Don't call me that," Eleanor snapped, very much struggling to stay afloat amongst the wave of emotion she was feeling. The boundary of her nickname was incredibly important to her. Crucial. It drew the line between people she had faith in and people she didn't.

Brendan knew this. He knew Eleanor Clarke as well as he knew himself. Which was exactly why he knew she would do this. He knew that she would shut him out. It was something he had anticipated with no apprehension whatsoever. Rather, it was something that he had dreaded. He had predicted the sort of pain it would cause him, prepared himself for it as much as he possibly could. But feeling it was something entirely different. It blossomed through his body slowly, a carnivorous sort of plant that squeezed so tight his heart became painful to beat.  But this had been what he wanted, hadn't it? He was the artist of this disastrous canvas. It was only...only to dull the strain of their inevitable separation. Or...less painful for him at least. But he had realised a little too late that he should cherish every moment they had together. Because seeing her and not being able to be with her...he never could have prepared himself for that much pain.

"Eleanor, look I-"

"I really need to get to class, Brendan. Music is one of the only classes I actually enjoy so I don't intend to be late."

"Eleanor, please, wait I-"

Eleanor made a move to get past him, fully aware of the charm he was capable of layering into his words. If she gave him so much as a moment to make her understand, she would lose her grip on the understanding of him that she had worked so hard to obtain. The understanding that his only motive in life was to hurt her, to humiliate her like the rest of the school. And although she was almost certain that there was more to her ex-boyfriend than that, it was much easier to treat him as a psychotic villain. Because that way she didn't have to admit that she was the one who had failed to make him love her. 

She closed her eyes when she felt his grip on her arm. His breath near her ear. His body near hers. Her resolve close to breaking.

"Eleanor, I-"

"Just, please, please leave me alone, Brendan." Her voice was broken, a large crack in her words broadcasting the amount of pain it caused to see him. To hear in his words that he...that he might just miss her too. But she couldn't afford to think like that. Because there was a reason hope was painful. And it was because of the fall.

"Eleanor, please, I'm begging you, just give me a chance to-"

"Please let me go, Brendan."

His grip on her arm tightened.

"No, I...I won't, not until you listen to what I have to s-"

"She said let her go, man, respect the lady's wishes," a voice boomed down the corridor, the sound bouncing off the metal of the lockers and resounding in their ears. The voice was deep, commanding and held a sort of threat that promised a very violent sort of consequence.

Brendan's grip on her arm loosened, but only slightly. "What's it to you, Morgan? Stay out of business that isn't yours."

Eleanor really wasn't in the mood for a battle of egos, and knew all too well the consequences of too much testosterone. She had seen many a time exactly what her ex-boyfriend was capable of in a fight and wasn't exactly eager to see someone else with blood streaming out of their nose. With this in mind, she attempted once more to wrench her arm out of his grasp. Successfully. 

Rubbing the spot where Brendan had been gripping her, she turned her attention to the two boys now only metres apart, glaring at each other with clenched fists at their sides. It was as if there was a static line between them, sparking with the waves of pride and anger rolling off of them. It confused her, in all honesty, because the two boys looked at each other as if there was an old kind of hatred between them. One that had not only been born seconds ago. It was in the glares they gave each other, a sort of manifesting hatred that multiplied with every move the other gave. Which was odd, because she had never actually seen them converse before.

"It may not be any of my business, but I respect girls enough to step in when they're in a position that they don't want to be in," Flynn spoke in a low voice, looking Brendan dead in the eye as he slowly moved towards him. His blue eyes seemed darker than usual and his eyebrow piercing glinted like a blade catching the light. "Now back off before I make you."

If Eleanor had been in Brendan's shoes, she would have bolted for the hills. Flynn's expression was downright murderous, jaw wound so tight that it almost hurt to look at him. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about him that was absolutely terrifying. It left her to wonder if he was like Brendan in that manner, a vile and unsheathed conflict raging beneath a handsome face. 

Brendan, however, did not even look close to backing down. In fact, he took another step forward, dark hair only highlighting the stark brightness of Flynn's. It was if his mask was decomposing once again, fabric deteriorating one seam at a time until all that was left was the cruel smirk that lay beneath. 

He looked as if he was spoiling for a fight. 

It astounded Eleanor how quickly he could interchange between the inner characteristics of himself. 

And then there was Flynn who, although she appreciated the knightly gesture, was a bit of an anomaly. She had presumed that only quick wit and sour words could have gotten her out of this. And usually, she would have been happy to do just that. But with Brendan it was different, he made all the words get tangled in her mouth.

Brendan moved his gaze to hers, dark eyes resting on hers for a moment as she saw the muscles in his jaw contract ever so slightly. He closed his eyes for a brief second and, in a confusing turn of events, stalked down the hallway in the opposite direction. This momentarily bewildered Eleanor, because she had seen the look in his eye, the curl of his fist as his smile openly welcomed a fight. He had wanted a fight, whether to relieve anger or stress or whatever, he had been anticipating a fight. So why the hell did he turn away from one? Flynn wasn't that scary. She'd seen Brendan throw a punch before and she couldn't imagine him being scared to face anyone. Even when she had almost fancied herself in love with him, he had terrified her. There was a sort of driving force in his punches to make any sane man quake in his boots.

Flynn's voice dragged her out of her thoughts. He was standing directly in front of her, waving a hand in front of her face. His eyebrows were furrowed into a line of concern. "Hey, are you okay?"

She blinked at him for a moment, wondering if she had somehow hit her head on a rock and dozed off into fairyland without her knowledge. Brendan backing down from a fight and Flynn Morgan being nice to her? Pigs would start flying soon. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, still a little ruffled after talking to Brendan for the first time in weeks. It took her a few seconds to realise that she had been staring into Flynn's eyes throughout her entire train of thought. She tore her eyes away. "I'm fine." She turned away, pulling her phone from her blazer pocket to discover that she was already ten minutes late. Crap. She was about to hurry back down the corridor when a thought began to scrape itself against the back of her brain. And the tickling feeling grew with every step she took. Because, as much as she did dislike the guy, he had gotten her out of a very compromising situation. 

Groaning internally for her moral sensitivity, she spun back round to face him. He hadn't moved an inch and was smiling with his eyebrows raised in expectancy. As if he had been expecting her to turn around. 

"Thank-you for..." she trailed off, cursing herself for not getting her words together beforehand. What was she supposed to say, thank-you for getting my douchebag of an ex-boyfriend to leave because if you hadn't then I probably would have fallen in love with said douchebag?  Yeah, cause that sounded sane. "Thanks for getting him to back off." There we go. Nice and breezy. No reason to suspect that she was still crushing on the guy that had cheated on her. Because, as much as she disliked Flynn, that would be pretty embarrassing to admit. Even to herself. 

Flynn's smile turned into what appeared to be a genuine one as he shrugged, hands stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans. "No problem."

It was at this point that Eleanor, having said her piece, really should have rushed off to class. But there was something really beginning to bother her...the reason why he had helped her in the first place. She didn't have enough faith in the guy to believe that he had done it out of the goodness of his heart, he had been condemned to her list of evil even before she had met him. When the rumour of her less than substantial bank account spread around the school, she had been devastated. She had wanted so desperately to fit in with everyone and it had been crushed on the very first day. People had turned their backs on her after that, refusing to let her be a part of them just because she wasn't from the same part of the world. It had broken her a little bit, really, to be rejected so easily and so quickly because of something so trivial. It had broken her even more when the whispers started. About her. And her dad. Especially her dad. Someone who had sacrificed so much for her to be there shamed for working in a different way to get money. So, upon finding that Flynn had been the one to start the mill of gossip, she had hated every fibre of his being. Which was sort of understandable. Despite him not doing anything remotely horrible from that point forward. 

"Why did you help me?"

"Because you were obviously uncomfortable and he was being an asshole."

"No. Why did you help me?"

"Repeating the same question isn't going to get a different answer, love."

Eleanor let out an exasperated sigh, obviously getting nowhere with this. She had been so caught up in her curiosity that she forgot that he was a boy. A boy who had a tendency to be a flirt, thus having a brilliant way of evading the truth and layering his words to make her forget she had even asked a question. Still convinced that he had it in for her, she narrowed her eyes. "You know exactly why you wouldn't help me. You've had it in for me ever since I walked through those doors."

Flynn stepped back in surprise, a little shocked by the venom in her words, raising his hands in defence. He let out a strained chuckle, not really wanting to admit that he was a little bit terrified of her right now. From experience with his sisters, he knew how terrifying a woman could be when you pissed her off and Eleanor was very pissed off right now, for whatever reason. It had been amusing to watch her unleash her wrath upon Liam, but now that he was in the same position, he didn't feel so great. But among everything else, he was confused. He couldn't remember ever expressing dislike for Eleanor, in fact, he kind of respected her. "W..what? I don't hate you."

"Yes, you do."

"I really don't."

"But you do! You so obviously do!"

"I really, really don't. As a matter of fact, I respect you like hell. I want to bow down to you half the time; the way you insult Liam deserves some kind of award."

Eleanor ground her teeth together, really struggling not to slap this guy across the face. She was fed up of people pretending to care before stabbing you in the back the moment it was turned. She was done with every single student in this school who didn't go by the name of Nathaniel Reed. In fact, she was prepared to strangle this dirty, lying, excuse of a boy if he didn't run away fast enough. "Please stop lying, Flynn, you're just wasting both of our time. Just admit it already, you look down on me because I'm not as rich as you and you just came over here to save me to enhance your ego."

If Eleanor didn't know any better, she would have taken him to look hurt. "Look down on you? That's ridiculous. I have the least reason to look down on you. I'm hardly well off myself!" The raised tone in his voice hinted at truth, almost as if the put down of someone because of their wealth was something he detested. She quickly dismissed the thought. "I wouldn't even have a roof over my head if it wasn't for Nate!"

Now that struck a core. Anything did whenever Nate was concerned, being one of the only people she actually cared about. And, as much as she hated to admit it, Nate offering help to someone wasn't exactly unheard of. She inclined her head to the side slightly, urging him to go on.

"He...I...I was in a terrible time of my life and I...I had nowhere else to go. He took me in when everyone else had abandoned me. Liam and I we...we owe our whole lives to that guy." There was a sort of expression on his face. She couldn't quite work out what it was. His deep blue eyes were downcast, staring down at his shiny white trainers as he slowly scuffed them against the ground. There was something pure about the way he spoke. And what he spoke of. She knew Nate's character well enough to know that's exactly the kind of thing he would have done. It didn't add up to her knowledge of Flynn being some kind of billionaire looking down on lowly peasants but it did...it did make sense. And she couldn't help but feel a little guilty for judging someone so quickly. Even if he was lying, she was just as bad as the people who had believed the rumours about her, to just go along with it so quickly and turn to hating someone without so much as an explanation or actually getting to know the guy. She felt horrible. 

"So you...you don't hate me?"

His gaze met hers, shaking his head with a small smile. And, for some reason, she believed him this time. 

"Well...uh...thanks again."

She wasn't really sure that she exactly meant it, especially to a guy that had caused her so much pain, but it seemed right to thank him...even if she wasn't all too sure about him yet. She wanted to believe that he hadn't spread those rumours about her but...at the same time, she had spent so much time hating him that it felt wrong not to. And...besides, if he hadn't spread those rumours then who had?

He nodded his head once and spun on his heel, starting to walk off down the corridor in the same direction that he had come from.