Toxin

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝓌𝑜

"Johnathan!" Charlotte eagerly approached him as he strolled down the hallway.

"What's the matter, Bauldelair? You got a C, what do you want?" Johnathan retorted.

"I don't want anything. I just ....want to spend.. some time with you," Charlotte struggled to keep pace with him.

"Well," Johnathan halted, peering down at her, "you're not my friend," he bluntly pointed out.

"Oh," Charlotte mumbled. "I'm sorry," she stammered, her very white skin turning red

"Finally, someone's got a friend," Alex
commented as he walked by, stopping in front of them. Charlotte widened her eyes, seeking refuge behind Johnathan and clutching his sleeve.

"You think that oddball will protect you?" Alex sneered, grabbing Johnathan's uniform collar. "She's not my friend," Johnathan clarified. "Leave him," Charlotte found her voice, surprising herself. She never expected herself to defend anyone. She never even defends herself

"What did you just say?" Alex pushed Johnathan away, holding Charlotte by the collar, exposing a part of her flat stomach. Charlotte gulped, meeting his gaze. Johnathan hesitated, unsure of what to do.

"You see, dear Charlotte," Alex punched her on the nose, making her tumble to the ground as she screamed. "I just hit you, and he didn't budge," he smirked. As she sat up, he kicked her shoulder, causing her to fall again.

Finally deciding to act, Johnathan kicked Alex, sending him sprawling, and pulled Charlotte up.

He began running, dragging Charlotte along. She struggled to keep up, breathless from his rapid pace. "He'll kill us!" she exclaimed as they passed the school gate. She realized that the consequences of not attending the rest of the school day.

"No! My aunt will kill me!" she protested, stopping suddenly. Johnathan glared at her from behind. "Charlotte, come on!" he urgently whispered-yelled.

"No!" she yelled like a child. He glared harder, gripping her arm tightly. "Ow!" she squeaked, and he resumed running until they were far from the school.

Charlotte panted, collapsing on the ground. "Why did you do that?" she cried. "If my aunt finds out, she'll kill me!" she looked up at him.

He, too, was panting, staring down at her. "She won't find out. You should be thanking me. I practically threatened my safety to save you," he said. Charlotte got up and pushed him. "No one told you to! How am I going to enter the school again? No students are allowed after 8 am!"

"Your aunt won't find out, alright?" he reassured. "And how do you know?!" she questioned. "Because I've run away countless times, and my grandmother never knew!" he asserted, silencing her.

Charlotte took a deep breath, sitting on the ground with her knees to her chest. "You cry a lot," he observed. "My mom said being sensitive is a sign of intelligence," she replied , her weak voice barely audible. And Johnathan sat beside her.

"How did your mother die?" he asked abruptly, making her cry more. He rolled his eyes, resting his palms behind him on the ground. "Cancer," she replied. Johnathan thought she looked beautiful even when crying.

"Where's your dad?" he inquired, and she shrugged. "No one wants to tell me. I never met him. Mom said he was really kind." Johnathan chuckled lightly. She glared at him. "What are you laughing at?"

"You sound like a baby," he replied.

"I hate you, Crane," she whispered.

"No, you don't," he retorted, and she rolled her eyes.

"Did you say you lived with your grandma?" She asked, wiping her tears with her sleeve, and he nodded, avoiding her gaze: he didn't like talking about his parents. Charlotte felt a pang of curiosity and sympathy for him. She began to pluck grass blades from the ground, making a small pile infront of her. "Are your parents dead or..?"
"Yes," he answered, his voice barely audible. "How?" She asked, hoping she wasn't being too intrusive. He flinched as images of Scarecrow flashed in his mind. "My mother died in a fire, and my dad had a heart attack," he said, trying to sound casual. He hated talking about his past, especially to a stranger. But she wasn't a complete stranger, was she? She was the only person who had ever shown him kindness.

"You know you are..my first friend ever," she said, looking at him with a shy smile. "I told you I'm not your friend," he said, feeling a surge of annoyance. He didn't need friends. Friends were a weakness. Her smile dropped. "Then why did you help me? Why are you sitting with me right now?" She challenged him, tilting her head. He felt a flush of heat on his cheeks. He didn't have a good answer. He had saved her from the bullies, but he didn't know why. Maybe it was because she reminded him of himself, lonely and misunderstood. Maybe it was because he was bored. "Fine. You too, " he muttered, conceding defeat.

"You are so stubborn," she grumbled, poking him in the ribs. He pushed her lightly by the shoulder, making her lose her balance. "Hey!" She exclaimed, pushing him back with all her strength. But he barely moved, his muscles tensed. He laughed at her adorable attempt, showing his teeth. She felt a surge of frustration and determination. She pushed him harder, making him tilt slightly. "You are too weak," he taunted, smirking. She glared at him, looking for a way to get back at him. She noticed his glasses, the only thing that made him look vulnerable. She quickly snatched them from his face and started running, holding them above her head.

"Hey, give those back!" He shouted, chasing after her. He couldn't see well without them. Everything was a blur. He stumbled over a rock, almost falling. She giggled, dodging his clumsy attempts to catch her. She ran towards the lake, where the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. She felt a rush of adrenaline and joy, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt alive. She felt free. She felt like she had a friend.

"Bauldelair!" he shouted as she was darting away from him. She knew he hated being called that, but she couldn't resist teasing him. He sprang to his feet and ran after her, closing the gap between them with his long strides. He caught up with her and spun her around, making her face him. She gasped, and he crashed on top of her, his palms supporting his weight on either side of her head.

He reached for his glasses, which she had snatched from his face earlier. But she extended her arm, keeping them out of his grasp. He tried to grab them, but she moved her hand away, playing a game of cat and mouse with him. She giggled, enjoying his frustration.

He suddenly dropped his body against her, pinning her to the ground. She yelped, feeling his chest press against hers. He seized her upper arms with one hand, immobilizing her. He used his other hand to snatch his glasses from her. He put them on and looked at her. She was panting, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling. He felt a jolt of something in his chest. He quickly got up, feeling awkward and confused.