Forgive me, please?

3:2

<><><>Adelaide's POV<><><>

Panic courses through my veins as Gale lands heavily in my arms. I caught him just in time, before he fell onto my doorstep. I gaze down at the beaten teen. What happened? I think as I haul him into my house. Readjusting my grip around his shoulders, I struggle to heave him onto the couch. For such a skinny boy, I start, then I let my eyes longer for far too long on his toned- but not too toned- arms. For such a. . . I don't know. He sure weighs a lot though.

I settle his head against the arm of the couch and stretch his legs out in front of him. I frantically search for a pillow and blankets. "Where are they?!" I hiss through pursed lips as my heart thuds in my chest. Is Gale okay? Is the only sentence that flows through my mind.

I finally find a pillow and rush over to Gale. His chest is rising slowly up and down, but sweat beads his forehead. I settle the pillow under his neck and head and practically bolt to the kitchen for a cold compress. I kneel beside Gale and feel his forehead. "He's burning up. . ." I mutter, frowning with worry. I press the compress against his forehead and study his wounds. It looks like he got in a fight. . . But, was he the one to start it? I glance at his hands which are curled slightly at the fingertips, resting at his side. Bruises form on the knuckles and I let out a sigh, rubbing my temples. "Why, Gale?" I whisper, brushing strands of his dark locks away from his tanned skin. "Why would you get in a fight?" I gaze at him.  Under his injuries, he's still a very good looking guy. A strong jawline, straight structured nose and freckles that are painting against his tanned olive skin. He looks so much like Seven- my heart jolts and my lip quivers. Too much like Seven. Though Seven's skin was darker and his hair was more of a chestnut color. He had no freckles, and he also had more of a button nose than a straight one like Gale. Both are- well. . . One of them is. . . Extremely good looking.

I bury my head in my hands at Gale's side and left a soft sob slip from my lips. "I'm sorry. . ." I whisper through shudders, "I didn't know how much pain I caused. . ."

Memories flood back.

---years prior---

I latch my arm through Elisa, my friend's arm. She grins down at me as I let my gaze wander through the crowd. I was looking for a certain someone. That certain someone being Seven Storms. I spot him. His smile lights the hallway as people form around him, some laughing at the joke the boy cracked, others casting disgusted looks at him. You see, Seven was not liked in school. He had stood up to one of the most influential- terrible, but influential none the less- group, and was now being practically hunted. Elisa just so happened to be dating the leader of that group.

There he was. Siren Mckinsley. The most popular guy in our grade. His auburn hair tumbled down the side of his face, the sides of his hair shaved. His jeering face spoiled the room, but Seven kept smiling, though I noticed it faltered a few times at what Siren was saying.

Elisa leads me over to them and stands next to Siren, leaning on his broad frame. Seven frowns and turns his gaze towards me. He's a few years older than me but he knows who I am because of Elisa and Siren. They're always pulling me all over. I furrow my brows a little but pity flickers across my lips. Seven nods his head slightly and turns his gaze back to Siren, who was now taunting him for something.

"So that's why your dad left." I hear Siren say. The hall turns silent. Sevens shoulders slump in shock, but it soon turns to utmost rage.

Siren turns to look at me, as if expecting me to be impressed.

God, I'm a coward.

A crooked, forced grin makes its way onto my lips. "Right," I say, quiet at first. "Right."