// Marcel Harry Styles P.O.V //

The car park was empty as I pulled in. Expected. It was 5:45 A.M. My glimmer of hope reignites when I see that the lights in the cafe are on. Carefully, I open the Audi's door even though it was impossible to repeat yesterday's mistake of hitting someone else's car with my door. Unless it was invisible. Precautions just in case.

Now, all I have to do is walk in a straight line without-ouch! "Oh, mother of a Buckethead!" Tears welled in my eyes as I clutched my index and middle finger that I had inadvertently jammed in the door. "Sweet, baby Jesus, take the pain away. Take it away!"

After the throbbing subsided until it was bearable, I made my way to the entrance of the cafe still cradling my fingers to my chest. My feet scuffled up to the pavement leading to the door. Using my good hand, I pulled it open. The bell above the door chimed. I see the nice and decent woman I met last evening-Maybeline, I believe her name was. I gave a warm smile, but it soon faded. Something was wrong.

Her eyes widened. Fear washed over her beautiful features. Ms. Maybeline gradually lifted her head from the cash register. Shock, confusion, and then... relief replaced the fear on her face. My forehead creased in worry. Definitely not an attractive look for me, but I was concerned.

"I-I'm sorry," I stuttered out. "Am I too early? Should I come back later? I didn't mean to frighten me-I mean you. I'm so sorry." I was starting to ramble. Did I upset her?

"Hush there now, Mister. It's fine. Take a seat now."

She walked to where I presumed the kitchen would be since it was secluded away. There were rustling and the sound of appliances being shifted about moments later. Even though it was a terrible idea, I wanted to offer her help but thought against it because she was the professional, and I had too many left feet to make my way around new surroundings in the unfamiliar area of the kitchen.

Impatiently tapping my nail-bitten fingers on the table, my mind drifted off to the young woman I also met last evening. I couldn't remember her name, either for the fact I was partially listening because I was startled that she knew my surname, or she had never had the chance to tell me.

Ms. Maybeline seemed to have a limp as she approached me with a steaming cup of the beverage I was sure she had given me yesterday. I never noticed it before. Last evening, she appeared to have been walking perfectly normal.

Removing my glasses as she placed the mug in front of me, I let the steam from it warm my face. It wasn't exactly cold today, but the steam felt refreshing against my skin. Tentatively, I wrapped my fingers around the mug. Ah, heated to perfection! It made me smile as I slowly brought it up to my lips before taking a light sip. I couldn't help but feel giddy inside.

At the moment, it reminded me of how my brothers and I used to sit at our massive oak table drinking tea while chatting each other up about the most darndest things. Back then, Edward would make some snide comment and then laugh at all of Harry's jokes, and I would roll my eyes and smile -or just get completely lost because his jokes made no sense whatsoever.

Lately, Harry rarely ever cracked a joke. Edward was so distant, so cold. He was pulling away from us. Now, I'm lucky if I'm caught in the eye of our storm; calm before the turbulence. But, storms were a frenzy before and after the eye. Those times where we could sit together and enjoy each other's company were long gone. My face fell into a frown.

"Memories," Maybeline spoke in a soft voice. It wasn't a question.

Setting the delicious beverage on the table carefully, I nodded. Turning my head, I looked at her. "It's just that..." I trailed off. My eyes squinted. I leaned closer. Without a second thought, I gently grasped Maybeline's chin with my forefinger and thumb. "What happened to your lip?"

"Huh?" Maybeline brought her finger up to her lip and then to her eyes. The sudden rigidness of Maybeline's body frightened me. My thumb lightly traced over her bottom lip. Moist. Her eyes searched the table as if it held any answers. "Oh, clumsy me," she chuckled after a moment. It was forced. "It probably happened from that small accident I had earlier. Nothin' to fret about." She removed her chin from my gentle grip.

Slowly, my hand retreated back to the table: beside my mug. "Are you okay?" My face contorted in what I assumed a cringe. I hated my squeaky voice. It took me by surprise when a genuine chuckle soared through the air to my ears.

"So adorable," she said, her chest moving with the movements of her laughter. I blushed. Hard. She laid her hand on top of mine. "I'm fine-oh, gosh your blushing! It's just a little nick," she told me in an assuring tone. The side of my mouth twitched into a smile before turning into a full, toothy grin.

---

"You were late, again, Marcey," Harry said, his hands on his hips with raised eyebrows. "Whatever is it this time? You seemed to have left early this morning. Earlier than usual..." He trailed off wanting me to explain.

"I was at the cafe I visited last evening," I said, readjusting my satchel on my shoulder for the fifth time. Shambling around him, I inserted my key into the door's handle and twisted and pulled until the door opened.

"Just the cafe?" Harry stepped closer.

"Yeah?"

"For four hours?" Harry gave me a look, his eyebrows raised. That infamous 'oh, really?' look. His hand planted on the very top frame of the door while his other situated on his waist, head tilting against his elbow.

We talked for nearly four hours!? Wow! "Must have lost track of time. Sorry." Setting my empty lunch box on my desk, I tossed my satchel on my chair and walked over to the board to write my lesson plans. Hair partly slicked back was the way I liked my hair, and I enjoyed thoroughly raking my hands through it and tousling it around- a habit Edward, Harry, and I both developed when we were young- not so much as Edward, though he did do it on certain occasions.

"Mm-Hmm." Harry crossed his arms over his chest, now leaning against the door frame.

"Bye, Harry," I told him, not even bothering to look at him.

Sighing, he said in a low voice, " See you later in the afternoon. Later alligator!"

Giving him a curt nod, the door finally shuts and I was met with five minutes of silence. The bell rang and students trudged into the classroom.

"Good afternoon, students!" I smiled brightly, making eye contact with each of the students. My goal was to establish genuine rapport and maintain a deep connection with each of my students-or at least most of them- before Christmas break. Though it's only the second day of school, it's never too early to express my availability and support.

Some of them chirped their responses in a cheery manner, others only grunted back their reply. I guess we'll have to work on that in the mere future.

Taking headcount, I walked over to close the door and then stood in front of the whiteboard to finish my count. A knock on the door startled me, and I lost count. Sighing, I headed back to the door and opened it without glancing at whoever it was to resume headcount, but then realized how rude that might have been to the person since it appeared as if I was ignoring them.

When I eventually glanced their way, I was taken aback. It was the girl I met yesterday at the cafe. It brought a smile to my face as I remembered her two siblings. They were quite the duo; inquisitive, chatty, and very open. After my little...accident, they had stared at me with curious, squinted eyes as they looked back and forth between the ladies restroom and me, whispering to each other. I remember I had tried my best not to notice as I had blushed. I can't even remember a time where I had felt more embarrassed...wait-nevermind.

When they had beckoned me over, I was blushing, even more, as I shuffled over to their table, imagining how they would have confronted me and rubbed my clumsiness in my face, but instead, they told me the reason they had called me over was because I had seemed lonely-with the younger of the duo adding, "strange, lonely, white man", and his sister swatting at him under the table. Of course, I had been the complexion of cranberry sauce afterward.

Then, all of sudden, we were sharing our favorite hobbies, colors, food, you name it. We all had become best buddies in such short time. They didn't judge me for my weird hobbies or pull weird faces when I told them I was only one out of a set of triplets. I was taken by surprise when they hadn't grown quiet in disgust when I told them I was gay...Yeah, I'm still scratching my head on how our conversation even got to that point or why I was even comfortable with sharing that with them- nevermind the fact they are really young, but they didn't seem to mind. Though I was aware of the fact that they had a great understanding of homosexuals such as myself.

Abruptly, my smile fell off my face like a rubber ball deliberately dropped into the Grand Canyon. I hadn't meant to tell them about my step-father who had passed a little over a year ago, it just poured out of me, and when I saw that solemn expression that had washed over the teenager's face, I just had to know what it was that had so drastically changed her cheery persona so I just kept pushing and pushing until I slowly coaxed it out of her. Her brother couldn't understand at first, it was so heartbreaking to watch his confusion morph into utter sadness once the truth dawned on him.

Moments later, she hadwalked towards us like there was nothing wrong,but I couldn't just pretend as if I hadn't known. I still can't fathom how they could be so strong about their father being in a coma. Hearing the story by itself, along with the still present ache of the loss of my step-father, still tugged at my heartstrings and I admit I cried myself to sleep last night. Alone.

Now here she was, standing in front of me with an office note and schedule in hand, and a smile on her face, but her eyes had barely noticeable bags under them. She seemed tired. Her posture was lazy and her clothes were the same as the previous day. Actually, when I studied her, she appeared to be very tired.

"Sorry, I'm late Mr.uh- she lifted her schedule to her eyes- "Mr. M. Styles." She handed me the office note and went to an abandoned part of the classroom. Away from everyone else. Another thing I'll have to work on. There will be no strays and outcasts in my classroom. The scars of being an outcast were a branded hot knife in my skin. It physically hurt to think about high school. And, it was because of people like him.

The student currently standing outside my classroom door.

"Uh, Mr. Gay, or whatever you are, could you like move," he said, releasing an annoyed breath. My mouth opened, but I did not inch from my spot. The young man in front of me wasn't very tall. He came to my chest, but I had a feeling that height didn't take away from his intimidation. Tattoos engraved his dark, caramel hands, arms, neck, and jaw. He had that '"rough" appearance to him. His brown eyes gave off the impression that they had seen too much in his teenage lifetime; clouded, dark, and distant. A baggy black shirt with the title, THUG LIFE, in bold, gold letters draped over his sagging, blue jeans. The same phrase was etched into his dark hair, the words trimmed lower than the rest of it.

"Fine then. Be that way." The young man's shoulder roughly knocked my arm as he entered and strutted towards the abandoned part of the classroom. Speechless, I closed the door and pretended the encounter never happened. Maybe he just had a bad day and needed to relieve some of his frustration?

Throwing out the idea of counting heads, I retrieve my sixth period's roster and called out names.

"Rebecca, Alabaster?"

"Here," a light feminine voice responded.

"Oden, Cadbury?"

"Here," a gruff and bored voice replied.

"Derora...um, is it Davis or Dedman? Your name is listed twice with two different last names so which one is it?"

"Well, it's uh, both, Mr. M. Styles."

My head snapped up puzzled and met almost reticent brown eyes, different from the ones I met at the cafe. Different from the ones I met only minutes ago. "Both?" I asked.

She nodded. but didn't meet my gaze."

"Yo, what the f#ck y'all starin' at," the young man sitting beside her, snapped, rolling his eyes in great annoyance and agitation. "Mind your own damn business."

My mouth twitched in dismay. "Sir, please refrain from the use of profanity and bad mouthing-at least in this class, please. I would like you to ask them kindly to stop staring if you don't mind?" I asked calmly.

Irritation, anger, and annoyance flashed in his dark eyes. He was probably about to make some witty comment when the girl named, Derora, placed a hand on his arm and nodded toward me with raised eyebrows. To my incredulity, he took one deep breath as if controlling himself and said in a neutral tone that was almost strained., "I'm sorry, sir. Would you please tell them to stop staring at us?"

"Why not ask them directly? " I asked, my eyebrows furrowing naturally.

An aggravated and almost sarcastic sigh came from his lips. "Because their hearing seems to be impaired to people like us," he snapped for the third time in the span of ten minutes as he glared at all of the heads facing in his direction-or rather his and Derora's path. Derora was looking anywhere but the eyes staring at her. Including mine.

Notes

Hope this chapter was at least alright...or decent to understand. *Sighs* Nineteen days of writer's block to develop this single chapter...I know...I know...