super seniority [closededed]

His father was never one to lose his temper. Growing up, the other kids thought him and his siblings lucky as all Hell. They were never hit, or spanked, or dragged around. It was rare in itself if he ever so much as raised his voice. Truly, he had a rare sort of patience to him, strong enough to survive five gifted children and every bit of drama they lugged along with them.

It wasn't the idea of his anger that left Preston wary. Anyone could shout or yell or bite away at him all they liked and it would mean nothing to him. No, it was his father's own disappointment that he feared; that heavy look of shame that hung on you like the heaviest weights for only-God-knew how long.

Even now, although the elder Andrews looked away from him, he could feel the old familiar pain twisting around in his guts like a dull knife.

It was surprising to him that they had dragged him into the Headmaster's offices so late, on his birthday of all times, and in such a rush. He'd had his fill of cake, a few present, and a chain of iron-tight hugs from his mother, but he'd hardly been around them longer than an hour too before he was dying for rest. He was still bruised and beaten from his surprise vacation, refusing the help of the school's magical healers, not wanting a minute of their help until they'd treated her first - at least to the best that they could.

He supposed none of that mattered then.

"You should have waited," His father said yet again, ever insistent from the moment they had touched home. "You could have died."

"If I had waited," Preston replied as always. "She would have died."

While he knew he blatantly disobeyed the school, his own father, and knowing now more than ever what was risked that night, he hadn't regretted what he did for a moment. Shit, if it called for it, he'd do it all over again, and throw himself further into the flames if he had to, if it meant that she was safe.

While his father only spared him a glance or two then, the Headmaster's eyes hadn't left his sight for as long as he stood there; quietly watching, simply listening, leaving him feeling like an old book more than anything else.

"If all you brought me for was a lecture, can I go?" Preston asked, stretching his arms out behind his neck, fighting back a wince. He was still sore as all hell. "I've got things to do. Cake to eat, y'know?"

"We won't keep you long," The other man finally spoke, folding his hands together and leaning forward onto his desk. "It's not entirely within my right to punish you either. Although you've missed the ceremony, you're due to now to leave Beata."

Somehow, in the haze of all the chaos, in the mess of nurses and infirmary runs, he'd forgotten all about the graduation. Pres stood at attention then, a shiver running down his spine. "And...?" He murmured lowly, stalling.

"And that's it. All we need to do is sign a few papers and you're off. Whether you're joining the Guardian program or setting off on your own is all up to you."

While he dragged a few papers out of his desk, Preston's gaze shot over to his father, catching the expectant look on his face. He shook his head and dropped his arms in disbelief. No, he couldn't leave the school yet, not now. He couldn't leave her.

"Wait a f-..." He frowned, chewing away at his cheek. "Don't I get a say in this?" They couldn't force him out with some either or bullshit. Was that supposed to be some kind of punishment in itself?

Mr. Wright only blinked. "Of course," he said.

"Take the Guardianship." His father finally decided to speak up again, turning towards the younger man. "You can stay with your brother then, we'll figure out where to go from there."

Preston shook his head again, his voice low. "Give me another year," he said, "Keep me in the school."

He could see a glint of interest in the Headmaster's eyes as he paused, setting old paperwork back down onto the desk's surface. "And why would you want to do that?" Mr. Wright asked. "Most kids can't wait to leave school behind." Amusement laced his tone, almost sounding like he was chastising him.

From the corner of his eyes, he could make out his dad, scarcely shaking his head. Preston already had hid mind made up again. "This us all just to get strong and perfect your gifts, right?" The young man took in a deep breath, shrugging and staring in ahead. "I learned that I've got a lot to learn." He watched the two adults expectantly, refusing to let the silence take hold for long. "Dublin did it, why can't I?"

The lame look from his father was enough of an answer. The only reason his brother stayed back was becayse of the year he'd spent preoccupied with the law in his younger years. It was all academics. While it wasn't close to the same issue with his own graduation, he was determined to see that there was no problem in staying anyways. Who did it hurt?

The headmaster, however, now held the slightest smile on his face. "If that's what you want," He said, leaning back into his chair and shooting a glance out the window. "I'll have you reinrolled and your new schedule by monday." He reached over, unclicking a drawer to his desk and pulling out a new file instead. "You will be confined to the area the next few months as proper punishment." He slammed the old wood closed, fanning the thin papers in his hands.

Preston stood for a moment, almost in disbelief that staying in was that easy. He blinked, ocean-like eyes darting to the Headmaster, to his father, and back again. There was no more reason for him to stick around then. "Thanks," He murmured. With little time to spare, he turned and left, letting the door swing itself closes behind him.

The silence stretched on for some time. "He can't stick around forever," The Guardian said, leaning back against a bookshelf with a sigh. "His sister's gone off to college already, and he wants to stay highschool and throw himself on the nearest grenade. It's a waste of time." He pulled off his glasses, wiping the lens onto his shirt and not bothering to look up as he heard his old friend laugh again under his breath.

"The girl he went after, you've worked with her before." The old Wright mused, closing his eyes and simply admiring the situation at hand. "She was left alone and he did what he thought was right. Are you saying you wouldn't do the same for Wist?" The other man said nothing, catching sleek file of papers that came flying at him before he had the chance to even put his glasses back onto his face. "Best we can do now is not make the same mistake and move on."

---

---

A small plastic bag swung around in his grasp, leftovers from the makeshift party, mostly leftovers; cake, pizza, chips, whatever his family themselves didn't inhale by the time the evening was over with. It still hurt to walk, hurt to breathe, hurt to damn well to much of anything, but fuck, at least he was alive, right? They both were. It'd become his mantra as of late. No matter what pain or bullshit he had to put up with, it was worth it in the end.

It was already dark out by the time he reached his room. The rest of the floor found themselves lively, sounding off stereos, instruments, and blasting their televisions until they all echoed out into the hallways. Nothing new for the prestigious Autumn house, but as he stepped inside his own dorm, the contrast was night and day. Most of the lights were dim or simply unlit, and for a moment he could hardly make out if he were the only one there or not.

"Hey," He called our into the quiet room. "I've got food."

Electricity flickered in the gloom, the only sign she was there. Kayla lifted her head from the couch, dark bags under her eyes, her hair a tangled rat's nest of mousy locks. "Oh..." That was all she said. Food. Right, food... When was the last time she'd eaten? Yesterday? The day before? It all blurred together in a dark haze. When she'd first woken up back at Beata Academy, she'd mowed through two trays of food like a starving animal, but since then it felt like she'd been passing through the halls like a ghost. It all tasted like p͟a͝p͡ér. She couldn't eat, she... A sharp pain shot through her skull like a knife through her temple, tinging the air with the sharp scent of rust and copper.

Ow...

Kayla rubbed at her head with her cast, shaking the static out of her thoughts.

Huh?

Oh. Right. Food.

How long had he been standing there?

Kayla blinked, glancing away from the light. Bandages wound up her arm, disappearing up her sleeve, wrapping around her waist where a long pink scar traced up from her hip to her ribs. A few band-aids covered cuts on her face, her knees, but you couldn't hide the bruises on her legs and across her cheek, still a muddy red all this time later. Electricity flitted down from her bangs, silhouetting her face for one brief moment.

"Where have you been?"

Preston lingered in the doorway, his gaze drooping as he watched her hunched over, rubbing away at her head. It was a miracle in itself that they let her leave the infirmary so soon, he thought, even with the promise to help watch over her - as he'd done a few times before. There were many times, just seen between the two of them in their own dorm, where she seemed like an empty husk more than anything. It hurt like a fucking bitch to see her the way she was, but at least she was alive, he reminded himself. The worst was already over.

"Out and about," he called back, throwing on a small grin and shutting the door behind him. "Found my way out of some lame party." The Autumn hardly bothered to kick off his shoes, strutting over and making his way quickly to the couch. The bag made little noise as he tossed it onto the stained table-top, taking the cushion beside her for himself. "I grabbed you a souvenir." She had best better been hungry, one poor cake had already been wasted that year.

"Ah..." She stared past him as he made his way over, dropping the bag on the coffee table and plopping down on the couch beside her. Kayla clenched her eyes shut, running her fingers through her hair and pulling her legs up and under her. It was so dark in this fucking dorm all the time. They had new roommates, but they might as well have been ghosts. Would it make her feel better if this place was a little more lively, or would it drive her crazy to be around that kind of noise all the time? No matter what, she was pissed off.

"You better have." Just a stupid joke. It didn't feel natural coming out of her mouth, like she was speaking with someone else's voice. She let her hands fall into her lap, picking at her cast with a scraggly nail. This kind of fracture might've ate away at her for the rest of her life if she'd lived in another world, but here at Beata, when people could stitch cuts back together with a wave of their hand, she might as well have been getting world-class rehab. Once it was all healed, it'd be as strong as it ever was.

It didn't stop it from hurting like a bitch.

"What kinda fucking parties are you going to anyways...?" That sounded like him, even when he was all banged up and after going through... what they went through, that he'd still... The ringing came back and the thought scattered into a buzzing static. Kayla blinked, staring forward. "Shit..." she breathed, shaking her head.

He forced a small chuckle under his breath, not taking his eyes off her as she found herself struggling for the moment. It felt almost wrong sitting there and watching her there, leaving an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, but there was nothing else he'd rather do. If he wasn't there for her, who else was going to be? The young man clenched nimbly at the cushion of the soda, easing up his smile and giving her a small shrug. "Some lame shit," he muttered, reaching back over towards the table and snagging away at the plastic bag. For once, he'd been smart enough to plan ahead, being sure to save the best piece with the most frosting, sneaking in a small plastic inside for good measure.

The Autumn leaned back lazily into the cushion, letting out a long and low yawn, admittedly relieved back to be in their own room again. At least here he could relax a bit, even with her stiff and uncertain beside him. "Birthday party or something," he muttered, holding out the styrofoam box out within reach of her good hand. "For you, Pikachu."

A fucking birthday party...? She couldn't remember the last time she'd celebrated anybody's birthday. Kayla rubbed at her head, just letting out a low breath. "Huh." The idea of leaving this dorm and rejoining normal life felt too alien, too distant, too faint, something so fantastical that she couldn't even grasp at it. A birthday party, with cake and candles and whatever the hell else you did at a party... That was all she had, just some vague concepts that all felt secondhand. All her memories felt blurred and buried, afterimages of another life.

She watched him rifle through the bag and pick out a styrofoam box, frowning. "Really?" He had mentioned a souvenir, and fuck, she wasn't going to turn down any leftovers, but... Kayla took it from his hand, and after a few moments struggling to pop it open with her thumb, set the box down on her lap to open it. Tada. It'd rolled over a bit on the way over, a mess of smeared frosting and loose crumbs, but it was a birthday cake, alright. With a light wince, she picked out the fork from the mess and licked off the heap of icing on the prongs.

So sweet...

Som̀e̶ońe had said something about laying off the sugar not too long ago, but what did it matter? It's not like she'd ever had a winning smile in the first place. Even after all this time, she was all too conscious of the two fresh gaps in her back teeth. Her tongue kept wandering over to the empty space. All she could ever taste was the faint trace of blood. As long as she didn't smile too wide, or get caught laughing, or talk too much, no one would be able to tell. Probably.

Great. Oh well.

Kayla stabbed the fork into the cake, slicing off a chocolate chunk. "Want any? I mean, I wasn't even invited." She cracked a loose grin, but it disappeared as soon as it came, and she glanced down to hide her mouth behind a thin-lipped smile. A sudden dizzy spill made her recoil from the fork, nausea creeping up her gut. "I'm guessing you didn't bring this just for me to hog it all."

The young man's face twisted, feigning a look of sickness and glancing away from her and the small slice of cake. "I've had more than my damn fill, they saw real good to that." Perhaps that was all of his mother's doing. He hadn't exactly healed to 'good as new', and when it came to any sort of ailment or sickness, food was always seen as the magical cure. It wasn't normally an issue, especially if he could pick out the recipes, but there was only so much of the rich, frosted treat he could handle at once...

Or could he? One more bite couldn't have possible hurt anything? He let his mind wander for a moment, kicking back and folding his arms behind his head. "I barely managed to wrestle a clean piece before Flor got a hold of the rest of the cake. Savor it."

A small smile turned up at the corner of his mouth. "You didn't miss much," Preston mused, glancing back over to her. "I didn't think you'd want to deal with my sister. Or Dublin." Or maybe he just didn't want to deal with him around her, not at a time like this.

Huh... Well, she couldn't argue with that. "Your loss." Kayla spooned it into her mouth, letting her mind wander, picking over his words. Flor, the little brat that she'd bumped into all that time ago, Vera, the two-time Formal queen, Dublin... Dublin. She almost choked on her cake at the mention of his brother, color blooming across her face. Oh, fucking... She glanced up at him, eyes wide, and then back to the box, stabbing into another hunk and shoveling it into her mouth. "Heh...!" she snorted between bites, mumbling through mouthfuls of cake, still not meeting his eye. "Sounds like the whole family was there, huh...?"

Something clicked in her head, but her thoughts were too full of static to make the connection.

After a few moments of silence, and a few more helpings of cake, the sudden rush of out of place panic fled out of her head.

"You mean they wouldn't want to deal with me." Hell, even Pres didn't want to deal with her half the time. "That's alright. I hate those kinds of things." Here, she got the cake without the hassle. Win-win as far as it mattered.

Wait. Florence?

Too late, but the realization crept up on her from behind.

None of Preston's friends were inviting a little girl to a birthday party. So that had to mean...

"Hey, whose party was it anyways...?"

Best as she tried to hide it, her reaction at the mere mention of his brother was obvious. The young man pinched at his nose, throwing his gaze away somewhat irritably. Yeah, that was just the type of response he always anticipated at the back of his mind. He always tried to remind himself not to let it get to him. After all, he loved his brother, he'd do anything for him - but old habits died hard, he supposed. Or maybe it was just worse seeing her get so flustered over him, of all people. She never got all embarassed over Preston like that. ;_;

He loosened up eventually, letting his gaze drift around lazily as he played ispy for the TV remote in their mess of a dorm. At least they had some sort of understanding with tbe party thing. The last time they were in the same one, he was fairly certain he had to drag her home and hold her hair back over the porcelain throne, not like his family exactly had themselves a drinking fest that day... All Irish jokes you could make aside.

Preston figured the subject would've been dropped then and there, neither of them were the type to push or pry, but apparently the question had come up as good enough of a surprise to make her completely forget her treat, for the moment anyways. "It was mine," The young man muttered simply, ocean-like eyes finding her again.

Nineteen years old. The number still felt strange to him, right off the bat. Hell, he didn't even feel eighteen, much less that shit of a number. He went back to avoiding her gaze, staring across at his feet instead. "Damn, maybe I should start writing out my will now, huh?" He joked, a weak grin to match his tone. Preston was practically an elder already, and the world had already tried to kill him more than once nos.

She almost choked on her cake again. "Wh-what? Seriously?" Kayla jerked toward him, eyes shooting wide in surprise again, only looking away for a moment to glance down at the birthday cake in her lap. Fuck. He could've said something at least. With a groan, she plopped the fork back into the box and thrust it into his stomach. "Hey, you can't just keep quiet on something like that. I mean, fuck, I didn't know, or else..."

Birthdays had never been a big thing for her back home. They had a silent deal, her and her dad. He could forget all about it and put that money somewhere else, and she could ditch the house for a day. It'd been the same thing here at Beata, for about as long as she could remember, so maybe that's why she'd never thought it was weird. Pres had never mentioned it, and it'd never crossed her mind to ask. Things like that went both ways.

Kayla sighed, brushing at her bangs with her cast. "Happy birthday I guess, dick." How old was he, anyways? None of that was adding up. The school's big graduation ceremony had past by a couple days ago and she hadn't even heard a word about it. "You don't look too jazzed about it."

He recoiled back, his eyes growing wide as she thrust the half-eaten dessert into his stimach, wasting the poor thing after all. "Hey - the fuck...? Preston groaned, shooting his gaze her way. "Or else what...?" Low as he muttered it, his little challenge to her was meaningless, and with a silent sigh the young man tossed the dessert back on the coffee table.

He plopped back deep into the sofa, scratching away at his temple. "Not entirely," The young man muttered, looming forward into the blank television screen. "They want to kick me out of the school." He shifted around in his seat with a slight frown. A drink was starting to sound good then.

"I dunno," she sighed under her breath, shaking her head. Did it matter? She at least would've been able to wish him a happy birthday or something, draw him a fucking card on some printer paper, who the hell knew? It wasn't like she could complain about him clamming up about it when she'd done the same exact thing every year since she'd known him. Kayla sank deeper into the cushions, crossing her legs and flicking her bangs out of her face.

The next part almost made her jump. "Bullshit," she muttered, turning to look at him, trying her best to keep her cool for the second. Hey, she couldn't really pick out one thing she felt from the cocktail of emotions that stirred around in her gut, but the idea of being all alone in this dorm... "So what? You're graduated now? Or did you just piss them off?" It was a stupid fucking stunt, no matter how he tried to spin it.

She tried to pose it as an easy question, but she couldn't hide the uncertainty in her voice. Kayla gave a jittery smile, glancing away, tension creasing the corners of her lips. "What are you doing here then?"

If he was here just to pack up and say goodbye, then, well... F̸uck. Wouldn't it be better for him that way?

Preston kept his gaze ahead of him, holding back what seemed to be a laugh and shrugging deeper into the couch cushion. "Both, I think." His smiled turned crooked as he finally looked beside him again just as she turned away. "I don't think they liked my one-man-army stunt very much." If you could even give him that much credit. Jokes aside, his voice had fallen flat. It was hard enough for him to get that short mission out of his mind, to actually talk about it at all didn't quite sit with him. It felt wrong.

The Autumn grabbed at the back of his neck, rubbing it uncomfortably. While he kept that stupid grin on, he wasn't quite sure what to say. "I told them they could fuck off." He kicked his feet up onto the table. Well, maybe not exactly in the words he might have wanted to, but close enough. "That I wasn't going anywhere.

Ugh... A mixture of emotions rushed through her body, something between nausea and relief. Kayla dipped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning. "You're such a dumbass," she murmured, but she couldn't help but laugh. What kind of idiot held themselves back? What was the point? He could've been long gone, doing whatever the hell he wanted to do with his life, but instead he'd ended up back here. Stuck. "Why the hell would you do that?" Hey, if he preferred to stick around repeating high school algebra, that was on him, but talk about a lack of drive... Kayla cracked a loose smile between her fingers. Something told her it wasn't that simple. "You are super senior material, I guess..."

He said nothing at first, his grin growing despite the fact she was practically laughing in his face. It didn't bother him any. "I think you mean a genius," Preston corrected her, shooting his smug smile. "Free room. Free food. Free wi-fi. You'd have to be stupid to not take what you can." His eyes flickered back over to the cake, abandoned and only half-eaten.

In his mind, he was already starting to pan it out. His games would always remain a priority, but... he never gave the gift mastery class his all. He never bothered to train once with the school's brawly bear. He'd taken what he'd learned from his folks and he'd thought that was enough. The Autumn had been earnest in his plea demand. He didn't know enough. He wasn't strong enough.

Preston wasn't a natural fighter, not like Kayla. He wasn't a natural anything. So, what other choice did he have?

He scooped the dessert back up, pushing away the Styrofoam lid and poking away at it with his fork. "Tell me I'm wrong." Pres dared her.