Unconventional Means

[Chapter Warning: Mentions of SA (but is not depicted or expanded upon), Violence, Implied Torture (but is not depicted)]

Terrance could barely keep his legs from wobbling as his senior pulled him into an empty classroom. Ambrosia's inquisitive stare knocked the air out of him, surprising him with the intensity of it, as if he hadn't already been breathless from her presence.

She looked pleased by what she found, a small smile gracing her face. Her right hand moved to cop a feel of his hair. Terrance felt like he was melting into floor, his face reflecting the look of amazement he failed to catch on Ambrosia's face.

Her hand had been so soft, covered in her scent. It felt like heaven, it represented everything Terrance's version of heaven was supposed to be. And it was massaging his scalp.

"You were chatting it up out there. Now that I'm getting a closer look, damn, you're giving off an entirely different vibe." Rose complimented, moving away as if she'd been caught in a crime. "Sorry, affection. Forgot about boundaries again."

"No." Without thinking about the implications of his actions, Terrance pulled on her retreating hand, placing it where it was resting on before.

"I'm really happy you think so." He said, desperate to restore the euphoric sensation she had given, and wincing once he realized that he might have pushed it too far.

Sure, the sentiment was finally released from his chest, the heavy feeling of needing her approval no longer gnawing at him from the inside, but what if she found his behavior too clingy for someone who only held the title of her friend?

Friend. Just friends. Yeah, that's right, he had to remind himself. They were just friends and he was presumptuous to think he could be more in such a short period of time.

Against all his worst fears, Ambrosia only smiled, taking it upon herself to ruffle up his styled hair. He would've complained, told her off for ruining his efforts, but none of his thoughts came close to it. After all, he did it all for her.

Rose opened her mouth, cheeriness evident in her voice. "Is this for who I think this is for?"

He looked down at his feet, avoiding eye contact. "Probably."

Rose's grin only seemed to widen at his response, finding her junior undeniably adorable when he was shy. He was so naive in the matters of love, almost like a baby chick, or so she thought.

"That's cute. I'm sure she'd be swooning if she saw you." Withdrawing her hand from his hair, the determined expression revived on Ambrosia's face. "Which is why we're here. Since you're already a heartthrob, we just need to find a way to make you Felicity's heartthrob."

He tried his best to return her enthusiasm, forcing himself to focus on their mission, even when his heart lied somewhere else. He'd just have to go along with it until she was swayed, until she found him worthy of being with. "Alright. How do you plan we go about this?"

"Well, clearly, using threat and physical force are no longer on the table since the people involved are people we both like."

He almost had a heart attack, his brain slowly coming to terms with the fact that the two weren't that different in terms of... moral compass.

He had to remember that Ambrosia had an entirely different side to her that he almost forgot, the side that caused the small unnoticeable wound on his neck. If he continued to act carelessly and overstepped a line when it wasn't time yet, that knife that once was could've been driven deeper into his throat, his wound could've been more lethal.

"R— right." He stuttered out.

Ambrosia only hummed, contemplating possible approaches as she walked towards the open windows of the classroom, the large glass pane allowing them a full view of the school's fields. The entire institution looked costly even from afar. "Man, collaborating on this kind of shit is harder than I thought."

"I thought so too. Why don't we just let it g—"

"Aha! I have an idea." The girl jumped, pointing to the academy's football players participating in their practice match. "The club culmination week is coming soon, is it not? The student council must have their hands full, then. Why don't you help Felicity out on behalf of the sports club?"

"...I'm not sure about this."

"Oh! Come on. It's the perfect set-up. Someone stressed out meets the love of their life who's there for them in their worst moments. Pay-off? A date with none other than our uptight but impressive student council secretary! She'll be swept off her feet, Terr!"

He bit his lip, trying his hardest to remain silent. He didn't know how much he could swallow, didn't know how much he could take before he reached his limits. But when he said that he was ready to do anything for, he meant it.

So he played his role, resigning his desires with a sigh. "... Alright. Let's do this."

"Why so discouraged? Don't tell me you're nervous."

"And what if I am?"

She squeezed his hand, an ever so comforting warmth in her eye as Ambrosia offered him a sympathetic look. He wanted the moment to stretch forever, but they weren't living in a dream where her kindness belonged to him and him only.

In fact, in his reality, the love of his life was enthusiastic about him pursuing someone else while she kept a shrine of an entirely different man in her bedroom.

But he pretended to not know these things, pretended that the aching in his chest didn't exist. Pretended that when Rose said, "I'm here for you. Don't worry," she meant something else.

He pulled her into a hug, taking the leap of faith before his eventual downfall. If he was gonna crash and burn and get the literal life pulled out of his body, he might as well do it Icarus style—hand burning from touching the sun. He'd be damned if he didn't try to get close to his sun.

Ambrosia was no grueling star, however. As opposed to how other people perceived her—strange, eccentric, excitable—alone, she grounded him more than the silence he was familiar with.

The sound of her deep breaths resonated with his soul, reminding him once again that his sun resembled the calmness of a sunset and the hopefulness of a sunrise more than anything.

She was beautiful, her laughter, the gentleness of her smile against his shoulder.

She was the source of life itself.

He was determined to keep her all to himself, glue her to his chest as she felt hers rise and fall. He would, eventually, even if it meant playing the role of death.

For now, he had to roll with her childish games, his own feelings filled with grudges, starting with his "friend" from the basketball team—the one who had shamelessly shot his shot with her.

As the sunset started to melt into the night, the only grip he had on his morality descended with it. When his sun said goodbye to walk into her luxurious manor, he immediately started to get a move on, ready to settle his nightly errands.

A benefit to being part of the elite was the exclusion of obeying certain laws. It was an evil thing to take advantage of, but something Terrance couldn't really get rid of as a born Hunton, especially when his family was involved in the more suspicious side of the business.

In fact, his father seemed to encourage abuse of power, only ever proud of his son when Terrance lied and claimed he started the fights that got his face all messed up.

After all, if it was free for him to use, "it" being an unimaginable amount of wealth and status, why couldn't he just use it to protect the only one he ever had eyes for?

It would be his first and after meeting Ambrosia, definitely not his last.

So when, one night, he decided to take advantage of it and called on to his father's crime-centric staff to dig a little deeper into a certain pest in his plans, he didn't expect to fall into a manic state so fast.

Perhaps his evil could be justified as punishing a greater evil. Or perhaps not.

"I didn't want to take it this far, you know." He informed his latest target, eyes trailing over the myriad of scratches and bruises that tainted the student's skin.

"I thought a warning would be enough to make you piss off. Just a little scare. But look what my intel found."

He threw a brown envelope onto the ground, pictures flying from its opening. Screenshots of vile conversations were scattered on the floor. The beaten body of the basketball player quivered at the sight, confronted with his own violations.

"Seems like you have a hobby of placing your hands on girls that are too delirious to consent. Tell me, is it the power trip that excites you? Is it their humiliation?"

The student tried to answer, but Terrance couldn't make sense of it. The pitiful thing was too far gone.

Terrance's shoe met with his jaw, the sheer impact sending the boy's body flying.

"Actually, don't answer me. I'm already nauseous as I am." He sneered, poison emanating from his words, something predatory shining from his serpent-like eyes. "You were planning to do the same to Ambrosia, weren't you? It pisses me off just thinking about it. You don't know how much I'm holding back right now."

He crouched down the crumbling body. With a crazed grin, Terrance pulled his classmate's hair up, his narrowed eyes meeting fearful ones. At that very moment, the prodigy resembled a viper ready to crush his prey's organs with his grip. "How dare you taint her with your revolting thoughts?"

He got closer to the bruised face, his classmate's desperate pleads further irritating his senses. Immediate regret sunk into his target's stomach as he watched the expression in Terrance's face lose more of his humanity. "Don't you know how lucky you are just to breathe in her presence? You should be paying for the air that enters your lungs."

"Be grateful I'm letting you live after this." The prodigy raised his hand, open palm facing upward as he beckoned for something. A bodyguard, one involved in his family's darker side of the business placed pliers on his open palm. "Now tell me, which do you value more? Your teeth or your fingers?"