I'D SUCCESSFULLY managed to escape another run-in with the five as I got up the next morning, showered, dressed, slid on my shoes and slipped out of the door. They had gone somewhere late in the evening the night before, returning not until the early hours of dawn; whispering, moving like foxes about the flat, before finally the sound of 5 doors shut and I was once again plunged into my own silence.

"As you all know, the winter showcase is coming up soon, so I suspect lots of you have questions about your focus for this years brief."

I watched as my performance teacher, Dr Plough, stood in the middle of the stage, addressing the class as we waited with fingers hovering over keyboards, screens lighting our faces. There had been talk of a Winter Showcase since I'd arrived at Oakham – the musicians in my lectures chatting eagerly amongst themselves about pieces they'd been saving especially for it – compositions they'd written, time they'd spent planning. For me, however, it was a daunting prospect that, truthfully, I'd been trying to forget about.

Although most people had been nice enough, I felt particularly isolated from the rest of the performance musicians, mainly because they'd all merged into ensemble groups already, and the only other pianist was constantly away doing concerts in Italy, as I'd been told. Ryan was also a performer, but an unreliable one at that – in fact, I hadn't seen him in any of my lectures yet. Therefore, if the showcase involved having to work with other musicians, it was safe to say that I was screwed.

Big time, as Ryan himself would say.

Dr Plough continued. "So, I think I've kept you all waiting long enough. For this year, the first time in Oakham's history, we are going to be partnering up with another sector in this conservatoire: the dancers." He smiled as a wave of conversation arose rapidly, some students turning to each other with shocked faces, others groaning; few with grins and shouts. "Quiet, guys, listen up so you can head out early." The dynamic of the room eventually returned to a tense silence. "So, next class, which is our practical for the week: myself, the head of dance – Dr Bashir, and your arts therapy teacher Dr Foreman will all be basing our ideas for groupings from individual performances, so prepare a short piece, an excerpt maybe 2-3 minutes to play, as the dancers will also be doing the same."

His words echoed through my mind, even as I sat on the grass outside the library later that day, plugged in with some Schumann as I thought of different pieces to perform. I was aware that finding a piece was the easiest part – in fact, I already knew what I was going to play. It was having to partner up with the dancers that scared me. Most of the other students would probably recognise each other from parties and mutual friends – I, however, would not.

Someone was tapping my shoulder, their voice muted by the sweeping Cello and extended piano chords in my ears. Turning around, I unplugged myself and smiled, seeing Ryan with a large grin and a suspicious looking package in one hand.

"Don't tell Gabby." He said guiltily, plonking himself down beside me and unravelling a large slice of red velvet. "I didn't have breakfast, okay?"

I tried not to laugh. "Okay."

Ryan exhaled loudly, closing his eyes with each bite of his cake. "So what did I miss in performance today? More of Dr Plough yada-yada-yadering for two hours?"

"Actually, he spoke about the Winter Showcase."

"Oh yeah? What's the deal with that then?"

"We're partnering up with the dancers." I faintly made out Gabby's familiar red hair bobbing up and down as she spotted us and began walking in our direction, seemingly in an animated conversation with a tall, lanky boy.

Ryan spotted my line of sight and began stuffing the rest of the cake into his mouth. "Feh gancers? Ut yhy?" He asked, his voice muffled.

I laughed. 'I have no idea what you just said."

"Sorry." He swallowed. "Why the dancers though? I hate the dancers here. They're all so pretentious and boring."

Gabby stopped a few meters away, just out of distance to notice the cake wrapping that Ryan discreetly shoved in his pocket. She stood, leaning in close to the boy to read something from his phone, before her face lit up and she attempted (and failed) to give him a high five. His arm got a good slapping, much to her embarrassment.

"Yeah, I'd much rather just do a solo thing." I shivered at the thought of working with a complete stranger.

"Guys! I have excellent news." Gabby interrupted, her smile widening to her ears, eyes wide. Throwing down her bag she sat in front of Ryan and I, clapping both hands together excitedly.

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Lewis lives in off-campus accommodation and is throwing a party on Friday!" She squealed. "We are definitely going. I can't remember the last time someone had a party at Oakham."

I watched the way Ryan let out some kind of deranged roar and laughed, expecting the invite to not include myself.

Which, as it happened, wasn't the case.

"Got an outfit in mind Luna?" Gabby asked, wiggling her eyebrows. "I can't wait to get ready with you. Think of this party as your very own freshers!"

Ryan snorted. "Yeah, a budget version. Most people have run out of money by now."

"Shut up Ryan." She smiled at me, not noticing how nervous I felt. "It'll be great. I'm going to grab a coffee, you guys coming?" She stood up, bouncing from one foot to the other towards the cafe. Then, over one shoulder she shouted back: "I was going to say we could share a cake, but I can see you've already had one, Ryan."

The culprit's face drained. "Wha-"

"Red velvet - there's a crumb on the side of your mouth. Bitch, I didn't watch Sherlock for nothing."

♦ ♦ ♦

Coffee comfortably lining my stomach, I let myself back into the flat a few hours later, ready to switch Netflix back on and forget about the work that was beginning to mount up exponentially.

The familiar noise of tranquillity immediately embraced me with open arms, my bed practically calling from the other end of the flat. I let out a sigh of happiness.

And then I screamed.

"Oh shit, sorry." Two large hands reached to my foot, unpeeling the four-legged creature that had attached itself to me. Its beady eyes glinted back at me as its owner cradled it and stood up. Isaiah: a sheepish toothy smile, dazzling features gazing back at me. "This is El Taco. Sorry, sometimes I let her roam around."

My heartbeat was slowly returning to a steady pulse. "Oh. It's okay. Just scared me a bit. Is she a... lizard?"

"Crested Gecko." He gave her a kiss. "Technically we're not supposed to have pets, but nobody really knows about her apart from my friends."

I nodded, feeling strange as the gecko studied me, her tongue occasionally peeking out to swipe speedily over her eyes.

Isaiah let El Taco roam to his shoulder where she sat contentedly. "Sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Isaiah."

I didn't tell him that I already knew his name. "Luna."

"How are you settling in?"

Not great. "Good, thanks."

He nodded, squinting at me. Why was it that the five seemed to always survey me? As if waiting for a reaction, trying to guess what I would say next?

El Taco shifted slightly, her sandy-coloured body still clinging to Isaiah, who, after opening his mouth to reply, was cut off by someone else emerging from another room.

Kingsley Abbott.

"Well if it isn't the transfer." He smirked, running a hand through his already tousled curls. "How rude of you to keep her all to yourself, Isaiah."

Isaiah chuckled, before slowly retreating back to his own room. "Be my guest. Just – be nice."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "Whatever do you mean? I'm always nice."

They shared a look, before Isaiah's door shut and I found myself in an uncomfortable silence with the mischievous looking brown-haired boy.

Why did Isaiah have to leave? He was much more comforting to be around.

"Would you like some tea?" Kingsley asked, brushing past me to go into the kitchen. It seemed he expected me to follow, for he didn't look behind him, merely sliding his feet on the floor in a dynamic, almost child-like manner.

Deciding I had no choice, I headed his way, nodding when his eyes finally met mine questioningly as he poured water in the kettle over the sink.

"I've been waiting to meet you Luna." He hummed. "Heard a lot about you."

I wasn't really sure how to respond, so I pursed my lips in an awkward smile.

"I know you had a run in with the girls yesterday," he continued, turning the kettle on with a click and leaning his long body against one of the kitchen cabinets. "They talked about you. Said you're pretty quiet."

I bet they said other things too. I thought. Things that weren't too nice.

"To be honest, I'd just like to get to terms with you. Our new flatmate. We are going to be living together, after all."

I noticed after a while that the five seemed to have a similar dialect to their voices – accented, well-articulated tones, that grand way of speaking as if they'd been taught to control every element of every word.

If Kingsley was bothered that I wasn't replying, he didn't show it. Maybe because he was used to doing all the talking – the same way that Celeste did, too. "You know you're actually the first scholarship student at Oakham. They decided to open up the position for one lucky student a year. They were going to start the programme next year, but there was a free space."

I already knew that I was the first, but didn't want to seem rude, so instead widened my eyes with mock surprise and smiled.

The kettle was beginning to boil, steam swimming around the room and thinning back into the cold air. After a long pause, Kingsley tore his eyes off me and turned back around, taking a mug from the cupboard and making some tea.

Strangely, he hadn't made one for himself.

And even stranger, I noted, the mug looked as if it were made from an extremely delicate antique china.

I was afraid to even take a sip out of it.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," He waited until the cup left my lips again. "I mean...well, I'm sure you already do, but...do you know about-"

Isaiah's door swung open suddenly, banging loudly as it hit the other side.

Startled, I dropped the tea on the floor, watching, with utter dismay, as it shattered on the ground, fragmented in hundreds of pieces.

"Sorry," Isaiah spoke, his voice slow and controlled. "I didn't mean to scare you, Luna."

The two boys stared at each other for a few seconds, before Kingsley turned away, focusing his stare on me. After a beat, he noticed the tea in a puddle on the floor. "Don't worry about the mug. The cleaner will get it."

Surprisingly, his buoyant demeanour had now evaporated in a strange and sudden change, his body language following as he stepped over the mess idly to enter Isaiah's room without another word, where they both disappeared furtively behind the closed door.

Shaken, I stepped over the shards as Kingsley had, trying not to disturb the mess.

But as I looked back, my heart still roaring in my ears, I realised I hadn't noticed the pain that was now shooting from the heel of my foot. Right where I was stood: a spotting of blood growing into a brownish circle as it coalesced with the still-warm tea on the wooden floor.

AUTHORS NOTE: helloooo again!!!

Ahhh I'm so excited guys it's gonna get super juicyyy :)))

What did you think of this chapter? Kingsley? Isaiah?

New updates coming v soon so stay posted!!

Love love love,

Donutized