"Always so quick to make the wrong decision."

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Chapter 1: “Always so quick to make the wrong decision.”

Wytham House School: a place of prestige, privilege, and primal passions. On this particular day, the halls were alive with excitement. Something was happening, and the students could sense it in the air, like the scent of a storm brewing. Whispers and rumors spread like wildfire, everyone talking about the same thing: Railings and Hawthorne were fighting again.

Down the hall, a boy sprinted past, his footsteps echoing in the corridor.

“Who’s fighting?!” someone shouted after him. The boy didn’t even turn around, but his loud and hurried voice carried the answer.

“Railings and Hawthorne! Near the tennis courts!”

That was all it took. Like a flock of birds startled from their roost, the students burst from their classrooms, streaming out into the school yard. Boys and girls, some breathless and some whooping with excitement, poured from every corner. They ran, tumbling over each other in their haste, eager to see the spectacle that was about to unfold.

On one side of the court, Eiluned Railings stood with his arms crossed, his face twisted into a mask of fury. On the other, Kent Hawthorne leaned against the fence, a smirk playing on his lips. They stood several yards apart, the tension between them so thick that even the air around them seemed to ripple.

“So, Railings,” Hawthorne drawled. “What do you have to say for yourself this time?”

Railings didn’t answer. He simply glowered at Hawthorne, his lips pressed into a thin, cold line. “You're such a coward Hawthorne, throwing me off the line like that. It isn't my fault that you got daddy issues.”

The words hit Hawthorne like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the smirk faded from his face. But only for a moment. He recovered quickly, his expression hardening into a dangerous glint.

“Oh, Railings. So predictable. Always using the same old insults. Always trying to compensate for something.” He pushed off from the fence, stepping closer to Railings. “Let’s see if you can back up that big mouth with a little action. Or are you just a little coward yourself?”

“I'm no coward, Hawthorne. But I'm also not a fool.” Railings' voice was ice cold, his eyes boring into Hawthorne's. “You want a fight? Let's do it.”

It was like a bet but their hate towards each other burnt their heart and that was enough for them to start fighting.

Hawthorne was the first to land a punch and Railings followed. Hawthorne was quick, moving like a cat, his fists darting out with deadly precision but Railings was strong, his punches hitting like a hammer. The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers as the two boys kept on exchanging blow after blow. Railings was breathing hard, his body covered in sweat, but he refused to back down. Hawthorne was smiling, his eyes alight with excitement, relishing the thrill of the fight. Their fists blurring in a flurry of jabs and hooks, each trying to land a knockout punch. But neither was willing to give up, and the fight dragged on, round after round, until both boys were bleeding and bruised.

The bell rang and some of the teachers were approaching the fight. It was rather too late but it was always like that. The students of Wytham respected the fight very well that they never alert the teachers until it's over.

Now in fury, the headmaster stood at his office. He was seeing red, not knowing what to do with the two delinquent who were sent kneeling on the floor. They were still bloody and bruised, kneeling a few feet away from each other. The aura of hate radiate around them.

“Mr Hawthorne, Mr Railings. I thought you two would have been tired by now.” The headmaster barked as he continued. “But it's clear you'll never get tired.”

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