"Hey!" I called, marching up to Rian determinedly. He was leaning against the wall outside our classroom, and didn't even spare me a second glance. I stopped a few feet away, trying to sort through the whirlwind of emotions I'd just endured. "You—"

Before I could extract any information out of him, Prof walked out of the class and interrupted me. "You're late," he said to both of us, frowning in disapproval.

Rian straightened immediately. "I apologize for that, Professor. I was a little distracted by something, but I can assure you," he paused, his voice cold enough to give me frostbite, "it won't happen again."

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, my ire morphing into outrage. Was he for real?

Prof nodded curtly, turning to face me. "And what's your excuse?"

Still giving Rian the stink-eye, I crossed my arms. "I happened to run into somebody that I used to know," I said testily, keeping my gaze trained on the humanoid block of ice to my right. "We had a quick chat, but unfortunately—and pardon my french Prof—it seems like they've become a complete and utter asshole."

Prof blinked in surprise. He glanced between the two of us: me, glaring relentlessly at Rian, and Rian stubbornly refusing to pay me any attention. "Uh . . ." he began, with uncharacteristic awkwardness. "Did something happen between the two of you?"

"No!" we both declared simultaneously.

Prof scratched his head in discomfort. I felt a bit bad for him, but my guilt was overpowered by the indignant anger that—that pisse-froid had made the calamitous mistake of rousing.

"Well, if there's no problem," Prof said slowly, "why don't we move the conversation inside?"

"Fine by me!" I announced, marching past Prof into the room. Rian also headed into class, of course without uttering a single word.

Prof cautiously closed the door and headed to his desk. I sat on one of the tables near the front, huffing scornfully as Rian casually leaned against the wall to my left.

"The reason I called you here today," Prof said carefully, proceeding as though he was navigating a minefield, "is to hammer out a schedule for the next few weeks. The Evaluation Competition is coming up, and we need to be ready for it."

Crossing my arms again, I stared straight ahead resolutely. No matter how mad I was, we'd still have to work together for the ecomp. My apprehension from before was gone, swallowed up by a burning desire to force the truth out of that walking lump of stone. Rian had no idea what he was in for.

"Actually," Rian interjected coolly. "I'm afraid I'll have to withdraw from the contest. I can no longer stay on as the class AC, either."

Oh no he fucking didn't.

My eyes shot to his, narrowing at the dark glimmer of self-satisfaction I saw there. "Pardon me?" Prof asked him, totally blindsided, but I knew what he was doing. His promise from earlier echoed in my ears: if you won't tell me, then I suppose I'll have to take manners into my own hands.

I hopped off the desk, advancing on him with white-hot fire in my veins. "You're going to back out just like that?"

Rian turned to me unconcernedly. "That's right."

"And leave the whole class hanging."

He shrugged, unaffected. "You're all talented enough. You'll be able to handle a few weeks by yourselves," he paused, coldly enunciating each word, "fetching your own kitchen supplies."

I scoffed in disbelief. "Do you even know what ACs do? How important they are?"

"I don't have to—or did you miss the part when I said I'm leaving?"

"So you're nothing more than a quitter."

"Better than someone who can't even realize their own potential," he replied, that indifferent mask still intact. "Someone so obviously stuck in the past."

And that was it. The last straw. The final, maddening weight that broke the back of the emotionally nuclear mess of a camel that was this day. If I wasn't completely furious before, I damn well was now.

I jabbed my finger at him, rage radiating off me in waves. "Is that what you tell all the girls you accost on their way to school?" I shot back, my voice razor-sharp.

His eyes shot to mine, guarded and the tiniest bit guilty. "And what is that supposed to mean?" his asked anyway, but the look in his eye betrayed that he absolutely knew what I was talking about.

"If I remember correctly," I seethed, all reasonable thought thrown out the window, "it sure as hell wasn't me chasing after you on your way from the bus." Stepping forward, I lowered my voice to a hiss. "God, you really have no conception of how not to be a jackass, do you? Stuck in the past?"

I shook my head, marvelling at the words. I thought of the nightmares, and the episodes, and my seeming inability to stop fixating over the boy in front of me. I was stuck in the past, I knew that—I just didn't expect it to cut so deeply when he said it. Or flung it in my face, more like. "How is it that someone smart enough to finish their coursework five months early keeps finding new ways to be so monumentally stupid?"

Rian had stiffened, and his glower took on a very clear, very indecipherable glint. I noticed, but all the emotional stress from the past few days, ever since that horrible morning I woke up with Rian's name echoing in my ears, was finally coming to a head. This was cathartic, perhaps misdirected, and most definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time. But my current method of dealing, carrying around that insufferable dark cloud everywhere I went, was clearly non-sustainable; and venting my agony at its subject seemed like a good place to start.

So I wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

"For god's sake." My voice trembled with fury, and a hint of something else. Some agonizing undercurrent I didn't want to name, for fear Rian would pick up on it. Analyze it, dissect it. And then make it hurt.

"Next time you want to get lost in the land of self-pity," I pushed on and let my voice rise again, aware that I was probably crossing a line but just too done to stop, "at least have the balls to go there on your own, like a rational person." Like me. Like what I put myself through, every single day, for three long and lonely years. "Don't drag me into it and then shut me out as you please." I barely refrained from blurting out what I really wanted to say: don't make me hope for the impossible.

I breathed in deeply, my impassioned speech over. Rian only stood and stared at me, both without expression and with an abundance of meaning—a living paradox. I stared back stubbornly, unwilling to give in to the weight of his gaze. Not anymore.

"That is enough!"

I jumped in shock. Rian and I both diverted our attention to Prof, who was glaring at us angrily.

Oh. Well, shit.

I'd forgotten he was here, and from the looks of it he didn't appreciate being ignored. A brief glimpse at his face made my own rage shrivel up and go running for dear life. Beside me, I heard Rian swallow apprehensively, our tempestuous melodrama forgotten.

"You!" Prof thrust a finger in my direction, promptly striking the fear of god in my heart. "Did I hear you correctly? Lecturing another student on self-pity?" He advanced towards me, his normally composed eyes narrowed balefully behind his glasses."Need I remind you of your three-day-long depressive stint when you ranked second at the Bluebell fair? Or when you sulked like a child after Rokim said Lisa's crème brûlée was tastier than yours? Or perhaps when you found out the oven in your kitchen was broken and you missed class for a week straight? A whole week!"

Dear lord, did the man never forget anything? I dropped my eyes to the floor, squirming uncomfortably. When Prof got mad, he really didn't hold back. "Yes, Prof," I mumbled in shame. "I'm sorry, Prof."

After one last pointed glare, Prof turned to Rian. "And you!" he yelled, that terrifying finger now shoved towards the other schmuck who'd managed to incur Prof's wrath. Rian's eyes widened, his normal mask of indifference nowhere to be seen. My guess was that it was hiding along with my anger somewhere far, far away.

"Quitting?" Prof's eyes were practically slits now. "Withdrawing?" I cringed in momentary solidarity as Rian winced. Or came as close to wincing as was possible for that lithops. Prof continued, and the iciness in his voice could've given even Rian a run for his money.

"See, I know I must have misheard that bit. You know how I know?" Prof took another step forward, and by all accounts it seemed like our mild-mannered professor had done the impossible—Rian looked a touch intimidated. "Because a student that leaves, deserts, abandons the people depending on them," each one of Prof's words were like daggers, launched viciously at their helpless target, "wouldn't be a student that I'd trust in the first place! Isn't that right, Mr. Aronhalt?"

Rian didn't reply. Somehow, Prof's eyes narrowed even further and he took a few more menacing steps towards Rian, leaning forward.

"Isn't—that—right?" Prof repeated, his voice deadly.

Clenching his fists, Rian stared at the ground hard. Finally, through gritted teeth, he replied. "Right."

One more moment of tense silence, and Prof straightened. "Good." Strolling back to his desk like nothing had happened, he smiled at the two of us. He crossed his arms relaxedly and adjusted his glasses, his anger gone as swiftly as it had come. We watched warily as he picked up a red sharpie and lightly spun it between his fingers, his expression positively pleasant.

"Now, how about that schedule?"