At the end of class, near the business management department's building, in the narrow hidden alleyway, three men were beating a single defenseless boy to the ground.

"Heh! Stupid poor kid! Watching your face makes me angry!" one of the boys spat as he punched Eric on the face while the latter didn't retaliate.

How could Eric fought back when one of the boys, the fat one, was holding him in both arms, rendering him immobile for the leader, a guy with blonde hair, to hit him like a sandbag while the other one was laughing and cheering on the side.

"Why don't you quit school? Don't you know your mere existence irritates me?!" the blonde guy sneered, slamming another fist on Eric's jaw while the other two edge him on.

Teenagers, the age where one wanted to feel dominance. Wanted attention and praise. Wanted to fell superior above the rest. And this inner wants were satisfied with different means. Some would excel thru academics. Some would gain attention from their achievements. Some would gain recognition in sports. Some were popular with their looks. Some were above from others because of their wealth while some just wanted to beat others to feel superior.

For Eric, he had the unfortunate luck to be the receiving end to satisfy other's wants. He had gotten used to it though.

Of course, no one likes to be beaten up nor feel pain. So Eric avoided them whenever he could. But being a student in the same department proved to be a curse he couldn't dispel.

He didn't retaliate, not because he didn't know how to fight nor because he was scared. It was for the simple reason he didn't care. He didn't want a complicated life. If he retaliated and beat the guys who tormented him, for sure, those guys would seek revenge with back up. And he would fight all over again. A never-ending cycle of fights.

He didn't want that kind of life. He was contented to be that unimportant side character who nobody noticed.

The pain would go away. And once the guys had their fill, they would leave him alone for days until they wanted to fed their manliness ego once more.

Eric wheezed a sigh.

Amidst the barraged of punches and kicks, he didn't say a single word. It was not because he was immune to pain, it was that, he didn't feel much impact.

The moment the blonde guy raised his fist, he would time his movement and tilted his face to lessen the impact. If the blond guy hit his stomach –– well, unfortunately for the guys who dared to, their punches and kicks lacked the strength that he didn't have to avoid them at all.

Compared to Eric who was well toned despite his lousy countenance and weak appearance, the other men were all talk with weak limbs. With all the jobs that Eric was doing coupled with his knowledge in combat, the blondie would be considered a seasoned fighter if he managed a blow that could make Eric grunt in pain.

But all in all, fortunately for Eric, all the men he encountered were wannabe fighters pretending to be badass . . . Except for that one time . . .

Hence, he was okay if the blondie beat him. He didn't care for his weak punches and kicks anyway.

"Damn it! Say something nerdy! Your silence infuriates me!" the blondie roared. He grabbed Eric by the collar, and threw him on the ground.

THUD!

Blondie lost it when Eric was calm and expressionless still, staring at him with dead eyes.

"Heh, let's see if you won't squeal this time." Flicking out a small knife, blondie's face warped in a horrendous grin.

"H-hey . . ." The fat guy and the other boy wanted to stop their leader.

"Shut up!" the blondie snapped.

Then he turned to Eric, face twisting with menace as he licked his lips. "A scar on that annoying face of yours, and maybe you can do the whole world a favor."

He grabbed Eric's collar, and pointed the knife against his cheek while the latter was still the epitome of calmness.

"Motherfucker! I hate that face of yours!"

Blondie raged, and pressed the knife on Eric's face, ready to leave his mark when out of the blue –– a plain lavender handkerchief gently swayed against the wind and slowly flew down between them. The pleasant fragrance from the fabric almost made the two close their eyes as they savored the scent of fresh peaches drowned in honey milk.

It was so soothing that the blondie's boiling temper cooled down. He paused before he looked over to the management building where the handkerchief fell.

Also raising his head, Eric wanted to know who the handkerchief belonged to. Though he already had an inkling.

The other men also glanced up, mimicking their leader.

In the four-story building, on the rooftop, a Goddess of fire and ice was staring down at them, looking all bored with one hand lazily propping her chin. Her eyes were radiating coldness and animosity while her lips curved in a taunting smirk.

Evangeline Heart

For a moment, the men lost themselves at the sight of the beauty. They thought it was an angel only to find it was the devil wearing a fluttering red scarf, fitted turtleneck shirt and slacks paired with a dangerous six inches pump shoes.

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"Tsk. Let's go."

Blondie lost his will and vigor to fight. Couldn't stand Evangeline's imposing aura and piercing cold belittling eyes.

The three men left, leaving Eric behind who was wiping the blood on his lips. Looking up again, he found Evangeline already retreated from plain sight. He bent down and grabbed the handkerchief on the ground before he dashed towards the building's rooftop.

----

At the rooftop, Evangeline idly stood at the center of the space with crossing arms and slanting hips. Her high ponytailed hair and long scarf fluttered along with the wind.

The entrance to the rooftop opened and she cocked her head in a sweet smile, looking at Eric who was taking his time in approaching her.

"Hello, Eric," she greeted, all smiles. But beneath her smile was fury.

Nodding, Eric handed the handkerchief to her.

"I believe this is yours," he said, all polite with his uneven thick glasses parked above his nose, messy hair, old clothes, scruffy backpack, and wounded face.

She raised her head high, but even with her six inches' shoes, she was still a head shorter than him.

Instead of grabbing the handkerchief, she opened her hand, implying to place that piece of fabric directly on her palm.

Eric crossed the distance between them and handed the piece of silk to her. However, before the handkerchief land on her palm, Evangeline retracted her hand and the hankie fell on the ground.

"It's dirty. I don't need it anymore." Evangeline's lips hooked in a smirk as she stepped on the handkerchief with her expensive shoe, ruthlessly twisting it against the rough concrete.

She was implying that it was already dirty for Eric had touched it. Didn't have an ounce of conscience nor sympathy even when the man practically climbed four floors to return her hankie.

Eric remained poker face, oblivious to Evangeline's flat-out mockery. He knew it was her way of revenge for what happened in that café, days ago.

Looking at her, unfettered by her intimidating stare and smirking lips, he opened his lips, tone almost like a whisper.

"It's a pity. I kinda' like the smell."

He then turned and went down the flight of stairs, leaving Evangeline on the rooftop.

. . .

. . .

Evangeline blinked.

A period of time passed since Eric left, yet she remained paralyzed in place. What he said caught her by surprised. Her brain was working in hyperdrive digesting Eric's words piece by piece.

D-did he said . . . he like my . . . smell?

Though she was having a hard time accepting the truth that he could make her feel all uneasy and giddy inside, her lips, however, didn't shy a smile.

It was a weird feeling.

A first kind of feeling.

Like she wanted to whip him for being unaffected by her allure, but at the same time, she wanted to giggle from his misleading words.