Shattered

~TRYSTAN~

His heart is pounding. Mari is so close. Her lips are right there, but the bell is going to ring. Trystan settles for nipping her lip again. Mari slips off his lap and hands him another flannel.

"It'll help hide the marks if something happens to the make-up. Besides, I like the way you look in it."

"In that case," Trystan reaches for the shirt and tugs it on over his black tee shirt. He leaves the front open. The collar makes him feel more secure. Mari knew it would. That's why she brought it for him. Trystan wants to say something, but words escape him. Instead he leans his forehead against hers for a second and looks into her eyes. "You're too good to me."

She smiles softly, shyly. It's like two people are living inside of her - one is so demur, but the other is a firework, bright and beautiful. "Come on. Today's going to be good. I can feel it." Mari backs away and reaches out for his hand, taking it in hers.

They walk up the metal stair case together. When they exit the auditorium, their hands separate. Trystan steps away a little bit, making things look like they've always been. No one suspects that he's fallen in love with this girl. No one knows they've spent a few nights together. No one knows how much he adores her, or how she makes him feel so alive that he's humming. No one knows anything and he likes it that way.

They head toward Trystan's locker, talking about the play later that night. Mari laughs at something he says and bumps him with her shoulder, taking hold of his arms and leaning into him. The contact makes him feel like he can fly. It jars other memories and he can almost taste her lip gloss.

That moment, that relaxed shared moment, is why he likes her. Mari never expects him to be someone else. She accepts him, scars and all. Trystan glances at her out of the corner of his eye, wishing he could cut class and spend the day with her. Last night wasn't enough. He can't ever get enough of her. When Mari isn't there, he burns for her. She's everything to him. They're walking and talking again. Trystan glances at her, reaches over and brushes the back of his hand against hers. She smiles up at him. His heart is soaring higher and faster than he ever thought possible.

But when they turn the hallway that leads to Trystan's locker, everything changes. That tender moment shatters. It's like Trystan is shoved out a window and is falling too fast to stop. There are tons of people at the other end of the hall. Trystan scans the crowd and sees Brie, Seth, and too many people to name. There's a woman dressed in a suit with a microphone. A man with a large camera on his shoulder stands with her. Tucker is standing to the side of the crowd, along with other faculty members. Everyone is buzzing like a happy mob.

Trystan's heart slams into his chest, thumping harder and faster. His breathing becomes jagged as his body tenses.

They know.

It's at that moment that Brie sees him. She flicks her eyes in his direction and hustles down the hall, sashaying in her tiny skirt. The swarm of people follow in her wake. Trystan's frozen in place. He considers running, but he can't because there's no way to hide from this. Dread chokes him, rendering him silent. The confident smile that usually lines his lips is long gone.

Brie steps into the space between Trystan and Mari and wraps herself around his arm. "This is Trystan Scott," she says beaming. He can feel her hand on his arm and hear her voice, but it sounds like static in his ears. She pulls him closer to the crowd, either that or they form a circle around him, surrounding him.

Trystan breathes hard, his eyes darting between the excited faces and the cameras. There's more than one. Trystan's heart lurches when he realizes that he's been cornered. He reaches for Mari's hand, but she's gone. He can't even see her face. The crowd has swallowed him and she's gone.

Dread creeps around Trystan's throat like a noose, pulling tighter and tighter. These people know his secret. He can feel the icy cold truth racing through his veins. That means they know about the other night, about how his dad strangled him. Everything he's been trying to hide for so long is about to be exposed.

There's no way to stop it.

A voice cuts through the noise, through the chaos of his thoughts. The woman in the suit holds out the microphone to him, asking, "Are you Day Jones?"