Chapter 7: Firefly

"Even the lone wolf has a thirst for love."

~Anon

Blake

For as long as I can remember New York has always been home to me. It's where I grew up, and continue to find myself in the most mysterious of ways. It's where I met my best friend for life, a person that gets me inside and out, who can make me pee myself from laughter, who makes me smile for all the right reasons.

It's also where I met Sam. The boy who teared down the walls I cowered behind and used as a clutch, the boy who rescued me from the shadows and brought a newfound light into my life. Have you ever heard of the Casimir Effect? When two mirrors are placed side my side in a vacuum the increase in pressure leaves them no choice but to come close together, so close in fact that they generate photons. Making light out of darkness. But the mirrors have to be perfect for one another, exactly parallel to one another or no attraction will form.

Every girl dreams of the one. Whether or not you have to be saved from a dragon in the highest tower or need to be rescued from your painfully ordinary life. You just hold out, grueling day after day, hoping that one day someone will bring you the puzzle piece to make you whole once more. You jump, take a chance, and pray while you're falling that's it not a cliff. Sam was the mirror for me, my Prince Charming. That's what Sam was to me—my light. He put stars in my dark, night sky and turned on all the lights in my broken home.

I could never imagine leaving New York because it would be like I was leaving Sam behind. It's only been a few months since he died, but I feel myself forgetting various elements of his face, and that terrifies me. The freckles that were painted across his cheeks, the exact shade of his red hair that reminded me of a pheonix as it rose from the ashes. But most of all his smile. He smiled at me like I was the only girl in the world, the center of his universe. And he was mine.

I stop in front of the library five minutes away from my house. I used to come here all the time to peruse the different sections of books that the building had on display. I would run my hands along the bindings, loving the rugged, yet familiar feeling of the covers against my skin. It was a normal, mundane schedule. But it was mine. If I wasn't at the cemetery observing the spirits, I was here in my private haunt, my place to runaway from everything. That is, until he came along.

The smell of old parchment fills my nostrils and settles comfortably in my lungs—I feel at peace. The lighting is pretty dim in this section, so I can't see the titles properly but I don't mind, it gives it an eerie, yet alluring atmosphere that I always love when searching for a new book. I am currently in the YA, or young adult section of the bookstore which I don't usually find myself in. I'm a huge fan of classics, poetry, and historical fiction but YA isn't really my cup of tea. Too much angst, and the endings are always predictable. But I find myself walking along this section at this very moment, why? I guess I'm just looking for a change.

I scan the bindings trying to look for a cover that catches my attention. When that doesn't work I resort to picking up books one by one and reading the summaries on the back. After all, a pretty cover doesn't necessarily mean a book is going to be interesting. I fly through summary after summary, yet nothing catches my eye. I pick up the last one on the shelf, only to be startled by a face staring right back at me. I almost drop the book. I put a hand to my chest, trying to halt the racing of my heart.

After calming myself down which takes a few seconds, I proceed to glare at the stranger. He is a boy, who looks around the same age as I am, who doesn't seem at all threatened or taken aback by the frown I am giving him or the intensity of my eyes. Instead he scratches the back of his neck bashfully, before saying, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Looks like we were both reaching for the same book." He chuckles at that, trying to alleviate some of the tension. I put my arm back next to my side, and soften my gaze. His voice is gravely and deep yet smooth like honey, and I found myself intrigued by the many layers his voice had. I have a strong urge to unpack all of them, one by one.

My eyes dart down to his hands, and I see that he is holding a rather small book with a lemony-green binding. From the looks of the cover it is quite plain. Not aesthetically appeasing, like some others I've seen moments ago. But I like that. There is nothing unique about it in the slightest—which only furthers my curiosity. I wonder why he is getting another book since he already has one before dismissing the thought since I've walked out of here with seven once.

Before giving me the chance to respond, he walks over to the other side of the bookshelf, and he stops when he's in front of me. Now that he's in front of me it gives me time to match his features with the voice that intrigued me only moments ago. His hair is a copper red which reminds me of a pheonix, his hair is styled to look like he just got out of bed which makes it look ten times sexier. There is a light dashing of freckles that rests on his cheeks that only highlights his chiseled cheekbones. But what catches my attention the most are his eyes. They are so blue like the color of a deep ocean, and I found myself wanting to swim laps in them.

Catching myself quickly, I look down to see the book in my hands. The cover is a midnight blue and it has a drawing of a beautiful firefly on it lighting up the night. It is decorated with different shades of reds, and purples and I think about how much work must have been put into the cover. I offer the book in my hand to him. "Here, you can have it." I say.

He shakes his head, before saying rather chivalrously, "No, I insist you should have it. Besides, it will make up for scaring you, right? I would be so mad at myself if I left this store with the thought that I made such a beautiful girl angry with me." He looks up rather timidly, before smiling at me once more. There is something different about his smile, something that makes me want to drop everything and figure this boy out. Something that keeps me from cringing at the compliment that I am not used to hearing.

I'm used to people looking at me like I'm a weird because of my rare, silver eyes. I don't know if it's a genetic condition because I don't know who my parents are, and I see them as proof that I'm some freak of nature. Emerson thinks they made me look cool but I beg to differ. They made me look different, and I long for nothing more than to blend in.

I ignore his comment, trying to keep my voice at the same pitch before replying, "No, really take it. If I'm being honest, I'm not into this genre and was just looking for something new. I'll probably return it tomorrow if I

take it, so the book will be in better hands with you." I offer the book to him once more and this time he takes it after hesitating for a moment. Our fingers brush against one another, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat from the sudden contact.

He observes me for a few minutes. Eyes raking over my face, and gaze contemplative and curious. I am finding it very hard not to squirm under his gaze right now, I hate getting this much attention, especially from a complete stranger. A stray curl keeps falling into one of his eyes, and I clench the book harder to prevent myself from tucking it behind his ear. Suddenly his face brightens up like he's had an epiphany, and he shoots me another one of his crooked grins. He takes the other book in his hand, the one with the bland cover, and hands it to me. I take it with a confused expression, eyes taking in the scene in front of me.

On the cover in the upper right hand corner there is a picture of a pair of legs that I guess belong to a boy, considering the fancy sleek black dressing shoes he is wearing. In a tiny black font is the title of the book—"The Perks of Being a Wallflower." I begin to wonder what exactly a wallflower is, since I've never heard the term before. And why is it beneficial?

"An eye for an eye. Or in this case, a book for a book. In exchange for me taking a book of yours, you must take one of mine." He finishes, with an amused expression. I feel a sudden itch to correct him, since both of these books don't technically belong to us since we are borrowing them, but I keep my mouth shut.

"It is one of my favorites. Let me know what you think of it, firefly." He gifts me with another one of his earth-shaking grins before turning around and walking out of sight. I realize just now that my mouth is open, closing it abruptly I blink a few times in shock before looking at the cover once more. I hug the book to my chest before walking out of the isle.

Firefly.

I find myself tearing up at the memory of meeting him for the first time. The memories don't get easier to replay over time. But that's the thing with memories, right? Very often they hurt, whether good or bad. They have the tendency to overwhelm you, sneak up on you when you least expect it leaving you vulnerable. They only remind me of how long I've gone with a piece of me missing. They remind me of what I've lost, and how it can never be replaced.

After leaving the library all those months ago, I remember opening the book he gave me only to be taken aback. He had wrote his number on the inside of the cover. I remember fuming with rage at the defilement of a book that wasn't his, just to get with me. Turns out, it was his. He had bought it at the local bookstore. I found that out after calling him, ready to tear him a new one after what I had thought he did. And that's how it started. The beginning of a new life. The emergence of a whole, new world.

"Perks of Being a Wallflower" is on my list of favorite books. I reread it about five times the entire time we were together. Loving the messages it gave about acceptance and finding yourself. That it is okay to be different. It is okay to have bad days. Now, the copy lies somewhere underneath my bed. I can't even look at it anymore. One look and I'll start spiraling down a deep, dark hole that no one will be able to pull me out of. That book started everything. Perhaps it will end it as well.

All of a sudden, Emerson pops up next to me. I'd asked him to meet me here so we could walk to school and discuss our plan for finding the rest of our "pack." I'm sure we won't find anything though, and then we can finally put all this craziness to rest. Emerson can go back to loving River, and I'll go back to fantasizing about ways to end it all.

"Hey." He gives me a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes, before leaning in to give me the one-armed hug he always does when we meet with each other. As he wraps his arm around my shoulder, I find myself wrapping my arms around his torso and digging my face in his chest, trying to snuff out the darkness in my mind with his warmth. He looks down to check up on me, before stopping to look at where we are. I guess he finally realizes, because he takes his other arm and wraps it around me tightly before giving me a small squeeze. I'm glad he's here, but I can't help that nagging feeling in my heart that says it's not enough. It'll never be until I'm back with him.

He pries himself away from me for a moment, eyes searching my face before asking, "Do you want to talk about it?" He shoots me a sympathetic gaze, and I hate the pity that flashes through his eyes, just as much I hate this helpless feeling I can never seem to shake off.

I shake my head, not meeting his eyes, before releasing him. He gives me a knowing glance, but doesn't push the subject. "You know you can always talk to me, right?" He asks through our weird mind link thing. We have been using it more often lately. When we are both at home, and want to check up on the other. When swapping stupid jokes we think of on the whim. When we want to talk about absolutely everything and nothing at the same time.

"Yeah, I know." I also give him a smile, but the edges of my mouth twitch, and the smile falls. I don't have the energy to fake happiness today. He quickly changes the subject, knowing I need a distraction. We start walking to school.

"So what's the plan with the coin?" He asks, giving me a contemplative side glance while shoving his hands in his pockets.

I shrug before taking it out and observing it, "I don't know. I guess we just wait for them to come to us?"

He shakes his head. "No, that will take too long. We have to search for them now."

I roll my eyes before deadpanning. I give him the coin to look at too before saying, "And how exactly do you propose we do that, E?"

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before whispering, "I think I've already found one."

I stop dead in my tracks while my blood runs cold. He has to be wrong, there's no way. I was betting everything on this being a lie, then returning back to my normal life. Well, not exactly "normal" but you get the jist. I'm betting everything on this being one huge, cosmic joke. But what if it isn't? He stops too, running his hands through his hair like he always does when he's nervous or unsure about something.

I look around us to make sure no one is hearing our conversation, just to be sure I switch back to mind link before beginning to walk again, Emerson right by my side.

"What do you mean you found one?" One thing I like about the mind-link, yet find eerie, is the fact that it sounds just like my voice, the same lilts and tones still present. It is like speaking to someone the same way, just without moving your lips. It requires a great deal of concentration though.

"You know Zoey Griffin?" I roll my eyes before scoffing out loud. She is the "Miss. Popular" of our school. A prissy princess who is sickeningly sweet, yet as fake as the Gucci José Rodriguez wears everyday to school. She is the exact opposite of me in so many ways and every time she passes the hall I can't help but glare daggers at her.

Emerson knows how much I despise her, so he takes my angry silence as a yes. "She touched my shoulder yesterday, and I felt the same jolt that happened in the hall that day with me and you. This one was less intense, but it felt the same."

"That could have been anything. How do we know for sure she's one of "us?"

"Only one way to find out."

****

We arrive at school early to see Zoey since she is always here putting up posters or giving out flyers to people about the fundraisers she is hosting or the movements she is arranging. I respect her dedication to facilitating change in the community, but there is just something about her that doesn't sit right with me.

Emerson and I look around the corner to see Zoey taping a poster to the wall near the west entrance of the cafeteria. I start walking towards her before Emerson sticks an arm out in front of me, blocking my movement. "Are you trying to get us caught?" He hisses at me before peeping around the corner for a second, before pulling his head back to avoid being seen.

I raise an eyebrow. "Caught doing what? It's not like we are doing anything illegal, we just want to talk to her. What's the big deal?" I mumble annoyingly, eyes glaring at him.

"In those spy movies, the spies always profile their target and gather intel before approaching them. You know, so we know what we are in for. Do not get me killed before the credits roll, Blake." He whispers as if we are on some sort of secret mission in some movie. God, he is such a child sometimes. Yet I can't help myself from smirking amusedly.

"You know who spies on people, E? Spies. Which we are not. Let's just see what happens when she's around the coin." I start to move again, but he grabs my wrist gently before pulling me back.

"I will not let you compromise this mission, B." I scoff, before pulling out of his grasp and walking around the corner towards Zoey. I hear Emerson gasp in disapproval before he follows me reluctantly, whispering obscenities directed towards me underneath his breath. I just roll my eyes and continue to walk.

As we approach her, I let my eyes take in the scene before me. Zoey is taping a poster that said, "The climate is changing, why aren't we?" In big bold black and green letters. Zoey has on a bohemian pink long float skirt, with a white lace crop top on. Her skin is flawlessly tan and her gold flowing hair is as radiant as the sun. I try to refrain from puking. I feel a bit of envy bubble down in my throat at how stunning she is. She has guys and girls lusting after her, yet I am just plain ugly.

I wonder what it's like to be the pretty girl that everyone falls for.

I constantly feel uncomfortable in my skin, and I'm no size two. It's not like I want anyone after Sam, but it would be nice for others to see me that way for once in my life, like Sam had. Sam was the only one that made me feel beautiful, but now he's gone and fragments of who I used to be before him are beginning to rise to the surface once more.

I clear my throat to get her attention, before Emerson shows up by my side with a smile etched across his face, mine isn't as kind. She smiles back at Emerson, pearly teeth and all. "Oh well hello Emerson a-and—I'm sorry what's your name again?" She asks turning to me with less enthusiasm.

"Blake." I state, eyes glaring with my arms crossed tightly around my chest.

"B, give it a rest. She may be a part of the pack, we might need her later on."

I calm down with Emerson's words and relax my shoulders a bit, putting my hands at my sides. "Well it's nice to meet you Blake." She says with a small smile and cheerful eyes.

"Likewise." I say, voice full of sarcasm. Emerson discreetly pokes my ribs from behind so Zoey can't see. I jump up slightly, glaring at him, before softening my gaze towards Zoey. But only a little.

Emerson takes the coin out of his pocket before bringing it out to show all of us. Zoey creases her eyebrows in confusion before her face lights up. "Wow! I've never seen a coin like that. For a coin, it's awfully big. However did you get it?" Emerson and I share a glance, before looking towards her once more.

"Blake and I found it by the old abandoned tracks. Here, do you want to take a look?" He said tentatively, gaze unsure and I am with him. We have no idea what will happen when she touches the coin. If nothing happens, does that mean she isn't a part of the pack? What will happen?

She jumps up before clapping her hands excitingly. "Yes, of course. I've always been a fan of hard to procure objects and this looks quite unique indeed." She takes the coin from Emerson, and I look at him with a worried gaze. When nothing happens, I wonder how he will react. He has so much hope on all of this being true, I just hope he's able to recover after all of this.

After a few seconds of holding the coin and Emerson waiting for something to happen, Zoey's face twists into one of discomfort and pain before dropping the coin abruptly, shaking out her hand. "It's hot! Did you let it lay out in the sun or something?" She runs to the water fountain across the hall, before sticking her hand under it, sighing as the cold liquid cools her scorching skin.

I-I w-what?! Nothing was supposed to happen. The mind-link, the coin, the jolts of electricity—none of it. The fact that the coin actually reacted to Zoey's touch proves she's a part of this ludicrous scheme. Emerson's eyes light up with delight, but I can't share those same feelings. I'm so confused. Why is this happening to us? Why now? Why me?

I go to pick up the coin, only to be burned by its hot metal as well. I jump back as a reflex, and back away. It has never hurt me before. Emerson starts to walk towards it, but before I can shout at him to back away, it's in his hand. My mouth opens in shock as he makes a fist around it, and seems to be perfectly fine. As if the fire blazing within the metal can't touch him.

He stuffs the coin back in to his pocket with a confused expression. "More craziness?" He asks, clearly amused by the entire situation and I hesitate before giving him a nod. Emerson is the type of person to bask in adventure, he likes a challenge, yet shies away from hardship. Right now, things are interesting but when it all goes to hell—which I know it will—I worry about how he will react.

"One down, four more to go." He smiles at me, and I notice how bright his eyes are shining like he's genuinely happy. He is happy when he's around River, and around me I hope, but there's always been something holding him back. Whether it be his parents, or his insecurities about his identity, but right now he looks elated. And that's what fuels me to hook his arm around my own, and walk down the hall in search of the others he wants to find so much.

I wish I felt the same.

****

"So did you find any more?" I ask hesitantly, lately I've been treading the waters with Emerson and I hate it. I knew our relationship would change after I told him, but a part of me held on to the hope that it wouldn't. We'd continue every day life like nothing happened, and if something did, we'd get through it together. Like we always have. But now it's as if I'm tip-toeing around him, waiting for him to explode like a ticking time bomb.

He looks down at the ground with a sigh, "No, but I'm sure it is only a matter of time. We'll find them, or they'll find us eventually. I know it." Then he sticks his hand in his bomber jacket to look for the coin, a stricken expression falls on to his face. He hastily checks his other pocket, before his eyes widen and his expression becomes frantic. He checks his jean pocket before letting out a relieved sigh.

I slap him on the arm for scaring me for the second time this week. "Stop scaring me!"

He puts a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breaths. "You were scared? Try telling that to my heart that almost beat out of my chest. That was a close one, we could have lost everything."

We could have lost everything. He says that as if I haven't already.

"We need to take better care of looking after the coin, because I'd hate to see what would happen to you—to us—if we were to lose it. Any ideas?" I say, glad I caught myself in the nick of time.

"I don't have a clue. You?"

I think for a moment, before an idea hits me. "What if we made it into a necklace? One of us could wear it around our neck at all times to make sure it stays safe."

"That's a good idea. Where can we go to do that though?"

"Uh, there's an accessory store near here. I'm sure they could make a necklace for us out of the coin."

He nods, before wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "Lead the way, captain."

***

Stepping into the store, was like breathing fresh air after being stuck in a house all day. The walls have a ty dye pattern—a mix of baby blue, rose pinks, and lavender purple. A DIY chandelier dangles above us, and the floor looks like glitter was blown over it. Magical, is the word I'm looking for to describe this place. I'm not usually into all of this, uh brightness, but something about this store's creative aura draws me in, reminding me of a time when life was good.

"Wow." I say, still in awe.

Emerson only shrugs, before pulling on my arm so we can start moving once more. I see a blue neon sign for the jewelry aisle and am about to lead Emerson there before an altercation stops me. There is a boy who looks around our age, fighting with one of the clerks about a pair of sunglasses.

"What you mean you are out of the black pair?" The boy seethed through clenched teeth and a snarl.

"I'm sorry sir, but we just sold our last black pair. That style won't be restocked for a week or two, but we have other stylish options. How about..."

"No, how about you listen here. How could you be so careless with your orders? Black is obviously a popular color so you should have ordered more! It's basic common sense, are you incompetent?! Do you really expect me to where these?" He lifts the glasses up right in front of her face. "Huh?"

The lady appears very uncomfortable and I feel bad for her, this guy is being very rude. "Well no sir, the pink is obviously for our female clientele. I'm sure we can you find you something else as equally..."

The boy looks livid, and for a moment I think I see a flash of red replace the amber of his irises. "I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you call pink a color for girls, it's not the eighteenth century anymore lady, wake up. If I wanted to wear these, I'd look hot doing it. But that's besides the point, I demand that you find me these sunglasses in black. I'm sure a smart woman like yourself, can make a couple of phone calls to the right people and get me what I want."

Before I even have the chance to start forward and defend the woman, Emerson beats me to it. He steps in front of the woman who looks relieved, before glaring at the rude stranger. "Hey buddy knock..." Before Emerson can finish telling the guy off, something happens. The coin in his coat pocket flies out from where it is being kept, before skidding on to the floor in front of the guy's boots. He stares at it for a moment, eyes scrunching up in confusion before deadpanning once more.

"I hope you don't expect me to pick that up."

Emerson rolls his eyes, before leaning forward to bend down before the boy stops him with a hand. "Kidding, kidding..." He goes to pick up the coin. Before he gets the chance to drop it into the palm of Emerson's hand, he drops it with an almost shocked expression. "Why is it so hot?" He becomes surprised for a quick moment, before his face is replaced with a cold expression once more.

I turn to look at Emerson with wide eyes, but his eyes are already on me, matching my own with a little more intensity. Emerson quickly picks the coin up and shoves it in his pocket, before turning to the boy once more who suddenly starts to look familiar. I think he goes to our school as a matter of fact.

"I'm sorry I never caught your name." Emerson asks, with a voice significantly softer and more friendly.

"That's because I didn't throw it, dumbass."

That's where I draw the line, no one call my friend a dumbass. I stomp over to where a confused Emerson is standing before glaring at the stranger. He glares at me too, but it could not match mine in a million years. He is way taller than me, like Emerson, but I still hold my ground. "Answer the question, unless you want me to call the police for harassment." I look around me, gesturing my hand to all the customers watching us. "I've got about, let's see. One. Two. Wait, no five witnesses who saw what you just did. A pretty boy like you wouldn't do so well behind bars, am I right?"

His gaze doesn't change but I see something flicker in his eyes, it is indecipherable.

"King." He says begrudgingly, "Titus King."

*******************************************

Sorry for taking longer than usual to update, I've been going through some stuff. So they found two more of the wolves, any guesses as to how they will find the remaining three? Thoughts on how Blake and Sam met? Please remember to like, comment, and share! Stay golden:)

~Fallen Rose🥀