Fade

By: Stokely

Two people are fading in two very different ways.

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue, it'll make me cry.

The clock ticked languidly across the room from Warren as he took a seat at the back of his next class, Burns, Chills and Other Biological Strengths. His bag lay unopened on the lab desk before him as he surveyed the classroom as it filled up with students, none daring to come more than a desk length near him. It made him almost smirk. Despite his "saving" the school, and befriending the Side-Kicks, his old reputation was harder to smother than he'd thought. Poor Layla. She'd have a field day trying to dissuade kids from his former, more trigger happy persona. That actually DID make him smile a bit.

The class continued to fill up, which he only vaguely noticed, until he heard a dull thud land on the other end of his desk. He inclined his head slightly in that threatening manner he'd inherited from his father. There was a backpack lying on top of the desk, and a girl was unloading her textbook.

"What are you doing?" he asked in that bored, menacing tone he reserved for people he wanted to scare off. Her head turned slightly, an eyebrow poised high on her forehead.

"Performing heart surgery." She deadpanned. "What does it look like I'm doing?" She said with a small smile. He knew her game, and that wasn't going to work on him, even if she did have a pearly white smile.

"Sitting down where you're not welcome." He replied, the tone still thick in his voice. Her other eyebrow rose to level with the former.

"Is that so?" She asked, and he thought he saw something flash in her eyes.

"Actually it's a not so subtle hint that you should move." He shot back, realizing it was a dare in those eyes.

"Lucky for me, I ignored it." And with that she sat down on the stool next to him, leaving him to blink at her blankly. He just decided he hated her, from the top of her blonde head, to the heel of her suede boots. And who wore suede boots anymore, anyway?

"Are you deaf, or just stupid?" It was a rhetorical question but she answered it with a piercing glare. "I don't want you sitting here." He said it slowly as to point up the theory that she was dumb. She just blushed furiously and turned back to her textbook and began scribbling something in the margin. He sighed, resigned himself to being her lab partner for this one class.

Today they were learning the properties of villains who excreted acid from their skin. They had to make a formula each of a particular kind of acid that they could use in demos. As per usual, Warren merely folded his arms and placed his head down on the table, sulkily watching the room bustle with activity. The girl beside him shot into action, practically racing to the ingredient cupboard. It was then that he took the time to scrutinize her.

Long blonde hair. Pale complexion. Not particularly unique or exotic, though she wasn't ugly either. She was wearing a pink sweater, red pleated skirt, and those awful boots. He cringed. He hated suede.

She turned around and headed back to the table, sparing him no glance or glare. He figured she was one of those passive people who'd rather stay silent than start up a fight. Pity. He loved fierceness and dominant qualities in women.

She began putting together her ingredients. He watched silently, staring at her in an unnerving way so as to make her uncomfortable. She did not say a word, though he was sure she could feel his gaze, since the back of her neck was turning a bit pink. She ploughed on though, and finally the concoction was settled above the Bunsen burner at the edge of the table. She began feebly trying to light it – he nearly laughed when she dropped the flint. She adjusted the gas, but she continued to fail miserably.

Inconspicuously he leaned over her shoulder, snapped his fingers, and the burner flame exploded into life, forcing her to jump back if she wanted to keep her eyebrows. He smirked, which seemed to infuriate her, but she said thanks all the same.

Forty minutes later the bell rang loudly and everyone turned in their work…except of course Warren.

He walked to the front of the class, right behind his "lab partner" and watched her hand in her own work. The teacher looked at him pointedly for a moment, both of them fully aware he hadn't done a damn thing, before Warren turned on his heel and walked out the door, leaving a very confused girl behind to look from teacher to doorframe for several moments.

"What the…" she said quietly to herself. How the hell did he get away with not doing the work with no more than a shake of the head from the teacher? Her eyes narrowed at the very idea that he was allowed this privilege! "Hey!" she practically hollered across the hall, speeding out the door after him. He didn't stop walking.

"I'm talking to you hothead!" she said loudly, and quite a few heads turned…she could have sworn one turned pale. This time he did stop, and turn around with that same menacing scowl on his face; only from this angle he looked more like a villain than hero in training. But she wasn't one to lose her ground. She marched up to him anyway.

"What did you call me?" He all but growled.

"You heard me." She said coming up to stand in front of him. He looked quite stocky from close up; he was about 6'2 and in her mind he related a lot to a brick wall. "What the hell was that? You don't turn in a damn thing and it's okay?" She'd worked all her academic career to get where she was and when others slacked off, it didn't please her much.

"What's it to you?" he shot at her. She growled.

"Don't you ever answer a question?" she said, gritting her teeth. "It's not fair what you're doing. The rest of us do the work to pass, and if you just get a free ride from all this-"

"Trust me, sweetheart, it's not like that." She cringed when he called her 'sweetheart', which only made him smirk. "I'll just fail out. There you go. Hard work and good character prevails yet again, hurrah hurrah." He made to walk away but the look on her face kept him from it. Instead he opted for a sigh and an eye roll. "What now?" he asked in an irritated voice.

"You're not even trying to pass?" she asked in, surprisingly enough, sounded disappointed and sympathetic.

"What's the point? I'll drop out anyway." He said with a shrug. She looked taken aback, but still she wasn't finished.

"What's your name hothead?" she asked, and he internally groaned at her new nickname for him.

"Warren Peace." He said shortly, not really wanting to go through the pleasantries she obviously expected. He decided instead to head her off and walk past her. She turned and watched him head off down the hall.

"Don't you want to know my name?" she called after him.

"Not really." He answered, continuing his determined march away from this weird girl.

"It's Annie. If you're wondering." She said quietly, more to herself than him. She just shook her head and headed for her locker, totally shook up by flame-boy, who would continue to needle the back of her mind for the next class and part way through lunch.