Death Call

six | thank-you

Eleanor was on her way to music, head somewhat in the clouds as she made her way down the corridor. Her feet moved on their own accord, stepping forward without much help from her brain. And this was a good thing, really, because her thoughts were focused on far more important things. Things that sat a little higher on her priority list than walking down a corridor.

Like, for example, how the mysterious death caller couldn't possibly be Liam. And she had plenty of evidence to back this up. Sort of. It was more the case of there being one piece of verification that ruled him out altogether. And this confirmation was as petty as it was ridiculous. But it made sense. Sort of. Did it? Of course it did. It couldn't be Liam because there was no way in hell that she'd actually be able to hold a decent conversation with him, right? There was no way that she could actually enjoy talking to Liam...right? Right. So it wasn't Liam. It couldn't be. Time to move on to other suspects. 

But who else could it possibly be? She'd already ruled out Nate and Liam, so who was left? The voice was distinctly male, even with the voice altered. Had Nate passed on the information about her music to someone else? Had she told someone else about her music by accident? It would have been highly likely that she might have told Brendan. But then again, what reason would he have to-

Eleanor was suddenly knocked back as she collided with something hard and firm. Something soft and warm. In her absent-minded state, she first regarded the object she had collided with to be a wall. This then led to profound curse words escaping her mouth for not paying enough attention to where she was going. But then she realised something else. A very important detail. Something that caused incredibly vulgar words to spring to her mind. Because walls were inanimate objects. They did not move. They did not have arms and they most certainly did not have hands to prevent her from falling to the floor. 

Hovering somewhat horizontally in the air, she felt rather than saw a pair of hands setting her upright once more. She must have closed her eyes at some point, perhaps in anticipation of her fall, because she couldn't see a thing. However, she felt less obliged to open her eyes when a familiar scent assaulted her nose. A very particular, very expensive cologne that she accustomed with one particular person. The smell was so familiar that it suddenly reminded her of the hands still gripping her forearms. She silently begged for it not to be him, assuring herself that lots of boys wore the same cologne, because if it was him then...that really sucked. Because she had put in a lot of effort to avoid him, even after his valiant change of heart to suddenly want her back.

Cautiously, and dreading the worst, she opened one eye at a time. Only to come face to face with what she had feared. 

Never one with an ability to hold her tongue, she let out a string of godforsaken words before she could stop them.

"Hello to you too, Eleanor," her captor said with an amused chuckle, a small smile tugging at his lips rather than his usual smirk. It threw her off guard slightly. Everything from the soft curve of his lips to his loose posture and the gentle caress of her shoulders suggested that he was happy to see her. It was so easy to believe. A rhythm of returned happiness that was oh so easy to fall into. Just as she had a thousand times before. But she knew better now. Didn't she? Now she knew that it was all fake. The smile. The touch that still somehow managed to fill her with a strong sense of anticipation. All fake. All a lie. Because she knew the real him now, the deceptive, manipulative person that could have her singing his tune with a single hum of his melody.