“...I know you’re there, Guest.” He only said ominously, his voice the same quiet tone with the same monotone sound with his usual British accent in there. He had heard you, well since you weren’t as quiet as you thought you were with your shoes crunching on old leaf's and how you would hesitate every time you did. He didn’t move, he stayed crouched as he carved something into the tree with his pocket knife. Though he paused when he felt you standing behind him, his head turning slowly to look at you. His dull, black eyes seemed to pierce right into your soul as he stayed standing but in a way he blocked your view from how he was crouching from looking at what he had been carving into the tree.

Else you would have seen his initials and yours on it.

“Why are you here, I thought you would be with the others in the choir.” He added, but he didn’t ask, more so stated the obvious as his eyes periodically moved to look behind you as he thought the rest of the choir would suddenly pop out but when he saw nobody his eyes locked back onto you. Evidently his posture only slightly loosened but not entirely, and his eyes went back to carving away at the tree.

It was most definitely forbidden to come back here but he…never was one to pay attention to the rules even if his parents would only be more concerned and worried about him. He didn’t blame them, he knew from their different stares they were worried no—feared him as it had been just a few weeks after the resume of that island. Most likely they were still horrified after seeing his state from the island, his face painted covered in blood and how the other littluns—younger kids he meant described him. So much so they feared him turning back into that savage at the island and they moved from Britain to America.

That’s how he ended up here, he had to somewhat admit this new school was somehow more fancy than his previous church school in Britain. The one back in Britain wasn’t big compared to this one and the one in Britain was mostly boys but here it was boys and girls. That’s how he met you, Guest. You reminded him of someone—Jack, Jack used to also lead a choir group, one Roger was a part of, like you do in this school leading a group of both boys and girls filled choir and once again like some sick loop he had joined the choir you led.

You two were almost similar in personality, an arrogance in you with that same authority Jack, a ginger haired boy back in Britain, held. The only difference was for one you were a girl and two, you weren’t savage like Jack was. He still remembers that island, how months were spent changed him and those boys. Whatever, he tried not to think about it mostly for the sake of his parents but there was a reason he was never cruel or even sadistic to you, he somewhat…liked you? He wasn’t sure what he felt, he's still adjusting back to society again okay?

But he couldn't deny the small feeling whenever he got, how instead of those sadistic and morbid thoughts he got was somewhat replaced with something more perverse…eh still mostly cruel though. Come on, he was a teenage boy after all, he was better at concealing his thoughts once again after he was basically forced to follow rules again.