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Paris Holmes woke up with his leg burning like someone had just set it on fire.

Cursing, he sat up on his bed, clutching the stupid thing before crawling off it and waking to his wardrobe, opening the drawers.

He was quite sure that he hadn't broken his bone and that this was a sprain, but the way it was currently hurting made him want to reconsider his diagnosis.

Finding a compression bandage in the third drawer, he took it out and sat on his chair, raising his now bruising leg.

Paris winced at the way it was beginning to have a purple tint to it and it definitely was looking worse than yesterday but he knew him going to a hospital would risk his Father finding out and the man would do anything to make sure he never held a basketball in his hand again.

Now biting hard on the handle of his hair brush, he began to wrap the bandage around his calf tight, but not too much, grunting as the pain made sweat form over his forehead before he finished and used a clip fastener to keep it in place.

Flexing his leg now, Paris let out a sigh of relief. He could walk without a limp now, thank God. Perhaps, he'd even be lucky and the pain would be gone by the end of table.

Thirty minutes after he was done with cleaning up, he walked out of his room wearing his Wystwood sports jacket with black pants then walked into the dining hall finding a maid who was serving food on the table.

Paris sat, his eyes scanning it and realizing that it was only set for two. "Where is Mom's?"

The girl kept her face to the floor. "Your Father requested that I take her food to her room as she's sick."

Sick - Drugged so she couldn't leave the rooms during his meetings.

Anger flowed through his body at the thought but before he could stand to go check on her, his Father appeared. "There would be no need to do so, Son. You're already late for school and I wouldn't want you getting sick as well."

In other words, Paris would be grounded for the day.

He felt his hand clench into a fist as he watched Sebastian Holmes sit on the far end of the table, opening the button of his suit and settling his newspaper on the table and delving into his food.

Father and Son entered their usual bout of silence as they both ate before Paris stood and his Father spoke without looking up. "Be back in time for dinner."

He didn't answer, because he knew Sebastian wasn't asking. Instead he walked out of the hall to the garage and took out the key to his purple lamborghini, opening the doors and sliding in.

As Paris closed the doors, he let out another sigh put his head on the car rest as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was coming next, which literally was picking up the people he called friends from their houses.

Why did he have to prepare? It was easy. They were all morons. Stupid to a fault. Having conversations with them, hurt. Talking to them, seeing them even, hurt, and what hurt most, was the fact he had to pretend he was stupid as well.

And Paris Holmes was definitely not stupid.

Once upon a time, he had been bullied in middle school and his first year of highschool for how smart he was. It wasn't exactly a story he told anyone considering he made his Family move entirely for his sophomore year, but he had figured out how school worked.

If you wanted to be put in the highest hierarchy, be stupid, act the way they expect. And most especially, never let out the fact you're smart.

Around them, he had to dumb down constantly which was just annoying as hell because they always liked to flock around him like flies, and his grades —

Wystwood High only ever announced the highest student which since he got there, remained Alexandra Parker, who he had entered a love hate relationship with.

Not that they ever spoke, but he hated the fact she topped him and loved the fact no one actually knew he was smart, thanks to her.

Though that didn't mean shit now, because he knew he was going to be valedictorian and when he got on the stage, would flip all the stupid idiots a finger and watch them gape at him like the fools they were.

Thinking of it brought a pleasing smile to his face, causing him to let out a small chuckle before he drove out of his house and to the road.

First, he picked his girlfriend, Alia Hooper. Queen Bee of Wystwood High and couldn't recall an element to save her life. Literally, point a gun to her head and ask her what she breathed in and she'd definitely answer, 'air'.

Next was his buddy, a guy called Abel Holland who always smoked weed and never had the sense to get a cologne that could cover the smell, thereby getting himself in trouble which Paris had to sort out. All the time.

And Eleanor Fitzgerald, who everyone just called Elle cause why not?

Some german girl that liked to stare at nothing and stay silent, but he knew she was stupid. She had been his chem partner once and heard her ask him if she was in her drama club and they were having a Frankenstein play.

As usual, he laughed and kissed his girlfriend, swallowing down an unhealthy amount of lipgloss, chatted with Abel about some new sneakers that just got shipped in next week, and ignored Elle.

They got to school and as always, he wrapped his arm around her waist and walked in, most of the people in the hall smiling and waving at them, staring at them like they were godsent.

Not that he blamed them. He was.

Eventually, they all went their separate ways, Abel following him to his class (because they shared all their classes. It was ridiculous.) And after some periods, had a class with his arch nemesis.

Alex Parker.

As always, she was seated erect, head staring straight at the wall until it was twelve pm and walked out of the class, even though a teacher was in.

And surprisingly, no one ever stopped her.

There was nothing spectacular about her anyway, except perhaps the way her dark skin gave a weird lustre off. It was obvious she was trying to stay out of sight but that seemed impossible.

And her eyes. Unlike the other mindless zombies in school, they seemed sharp, calculating. Like she knew more than she dressed like which said a lot because Alex didn't dress like much.

She wore baggy clothes sometimes, and when she felt like, wore slimming ones but didn't stop her from being noticeable though.

Yet, everyone avoided her. He understood that, she was a nerd, nerds were always in every school. There was nothing he could do about that but no one even bullied her.

They just acted like she wasn't there and she, just floated around the school like she wasn't either.

Since Paris moved there in his second year of highschool, he couldn't exactly say he knew anything about her since everyone went all hush hush on her name, but he knew a little.

In freshman year, Alexandra Parker was everyone's candy. All the boys wanted her, and she was supposedly Alia's best friend (the whole thought of them together made him feel extremely sick.) But one day, she suddenly stayed apart from her and everyone, becoming the Ultimate Nerd.

Why did she do that? Paris could tell she was probably tired of pretending they were at her level. Sometimes, he even liked to think she was maybe a little more brilliant than he was, sometimes.

But separating from a group came with it's consequences. He had thought and thought on how he could go his own path without the idiots around him but it always ended with a catastrophic event.

Plus, would that mean no one would want to worship as they were supposed to anymore?

No. He didn't want to think of it.

But Alex did, which made her different. Unique in a way. 

Made him want to know who she really was.

That was why during their lunch break, he decided that it was time he mentioned her name. "Has anyone ever wondered where Parker eats her lunch?"

At first, everyone had been chattering about something but as soon as he said those words, it died down. Even Elle who was usually just looking ahead, looked at him.

He shrugged. "What? So we can't say her name or something?"

Matteo Lorenzo wrapped his arm around his shoulder and Paris held back the urge to shudder as he said, "It's not like we can't. It's just—."

"We're eating." Alia gave him a smile, her finger now wrapping a strand of her dark hair. "It's sort of like, not appropriate."

"Why?" He asked, dumping a meatball in his mouth.

There was a shocked look on the people sitting with him. Why? Because no one ever asked why to a question. It was such a stressful word because you had to give an explanation, plus, they never cared about anything.

Asking meant you cared. About grades and the environment.

A whole five minutes passed with them still staring at him before he burst out laughing, his fork pointed at their directions. "Ha! Got you, guys."

Immediately, they joined in laughing. Abel making hoot sounds as he slapped his hand on Paris' back while Matteo said, "He was like 'why?' with this serious as fuck expression! Dude! You'd make an awesome actor."

Yeah. I know. I mean look at me fooling you guys and you keep buying it.

"Well, duh. Why the fuck would I care about Alexandra Weirdo Parker?" He asked, twirling his spaghetti on his fork now winking at his girlfriend. "When I got my own princess to think about."

Saying those words made his head hurt and watching her blink her lashes at him made it hurt more before Abel nudged his head towards another table. "Hey, check out the other weird piece."

He turned, his eyes falling on Marcos Gomez who was sitting with his other friend, Ace Danvers.

Another pair of weird people. Ace Danvers was known for his weird love for cars and bikes all together and and games of course, which got him bullied half the time but Marcos—

Marcos was bully material. Considering the fact he always walked around the school like he was ignorant about the world around him and he had once heard he had been at a time.

Then all of a sudden, he became everyone's favourite.

Not that anyone ever outrightly said it. (Paris would rather die than utter those words) but Marcos was... Pretty. In terms of you looking at a rainbow in the sky and thinking the world might be shit, but the rainbow made it look a little better.

Shit. Look at him calling another guy a fucking rainbow. This fuckers were affecting him with their brainless syndrome.

Rolling his eyes, he was about to look away before he noticed the male bring out his phone and stare at it, an unreadable expression on his face before he suddenly stood and walked out of the cafeteria.

And for some reason, Paris Holmes wanted to know why that happened.

"Hey, guys?" He stood up, watching their eyes follow him. "I gotta use the restroom."

"Oh." Abel replied, rising from his chair. "I'd just follow—."

No, fuck you.

"Nah, man, I'm sure I can open my zipper myself." He replied, causing Matteo to burst into another laugh while Alia giggled and since he was embarrassed, he let him go alone.

Thank God.

He managed to catch up to the male who kept walking like he had a mission to go to and much to Paris' surprise, was walking towards a class that had been closed as 'unsafe'.

Paris kept following in the shadows until Marcos stopped at the class door and entered then shut it close.

He walked to it and paused there, placing his ears on the wall as he heard a soft voice say, "You replied."

That was when he realized he had never heard the blue haired boy talk before and Jesus, why the fuck was he whispering?

His voice was already soft. Him whispering made it sound like wind was tickling at your ear.

Then he heard the other voice. "Of course, I'd always reply your texts." There was shuffling of feet and she spoke again, except this time, her voice held a dangerous aura to it. "Except I remember telling you never to try reaching out to me unless I call you, baby."

He had heard it many times, when that same voice excused itself every twelve pm.

Alex Parker.

Was... Were they together?

And why was she sounding like a teacher about to scold a student, in a dark seductive way?

"I'm—." He heard Marcos pant a bit. "I just wanted to say thank you, for... For doing my assignment for me. I know you didn't have to but it meant a lot, since you know, Mother said she'd take away my computer if I didn't ace this test."

Alexandra laughed, but there was nothing sweet about it. It sounded dangerous. Dark. It made Paris grab the door to steady himself. "You could have texted me, Eros."

Eros? 

The Greek god of desire?

Was that his name? 

"I-I'm sorry, Mommy. I just— I just wanted to see you."

Did Marcos just whimper?

And Mommy?

"Oh, baby, you keep piling your punishments." He heard another sound and then a, "And Mommy's going to make sure boys who don't know how to keep to their rules face the consequence."

Shit.

There was a silkiness to her voice. Paris could swear he could hear her whisper those same words to him...

Wait, what the fuck? This was disgusting. They were disgusting. What the fuck was he still doing there?

Shaking his head, he walked away and marched back to the cafeteria, meeting Matteo halfway. Obviously, he was coming to look for him.

Fucking pests.

"Hey, you were gone for a while." The male said. "You okay, dude?"

"I'm fine." Paris wasn't. It felt like her succubus spirit followed him and was trying to drag him back to where he came from and he was using all his might not to move an inch.

"Just asking, cause you have like a— ." He pointed to Paris pants and when the male looked down, he cursed again.

He had a boner.

Fuck, this day just wasn't for him, was it?