#UnlikelyAllies - 1

“You were the Midnight King?” Honey gapes.

Elias, who’ all gentle gestures and delicate smiles, fought tooth and nail for a violent title only a couple years ago. Honey didn’t even think Elias could throw a punch or a kick or beat someone black and blue like they had just witnessed minutes before.

He might be like Honey.

Putting up a front to maintain some superficial public image, but even now without people watching or for popularity's sake, he doesn’t drop his act like Honey does.

He also doesn’t lose his temper like Honey does.

She doesn’t believe his sudden declaration until she sees how his smile has disappeared, replaced with nothing but a thin line of his lips.

He laughs, but there’s no mirth behind it.

“Only for a few hours though. Misha was there with me at the top. We were so sure we could get rid of this messed-up hierarchy.”

His head drops. His eyes study the pink tiles in front of the cafe with more concentration than necessary.

“Apparently, someone didn’t like our plan and-” Elias swallows. Hard. “-took everything from the both of us.”

Everything?

Honey’s eyes involuntarily dart to Elias’ legs. The ones he limps on. The ones that render him unable to fight, or even do so much as walk properly.

Oh.

Elias follows her gaze.

“He took more from Misha than he did me. A lot more.”

He looks through the cafe window again.

“And every day I see him I regret ever joining The Midnight Fights and I know he does too.”

She...didn’t expect this from someone she barely knows. Elias wears a face so wildly different from his princely smile that it’s hard to recognize him. Freckles losing their warmth and face paling the longer the silence lasts.

And for some reason, he talks to her like he trusts her. She looks away.

Honey crosses her arms, feigning her usual apathetic demeanor, but her confidence sputters.

Her voice cracks on the first word.

“So you’re telling me not to get involved?”

“I’m telling you to know what you’re getting yourself into. This runs a lot deeper than it looks.”

Honey glances back to Misha through the window. He presents a plate of pink colored cookies to his little brother, looking happier than she’s ever seen him.

She tells herself she doesn’t feel any empathy.

She’s doing this to get back at Charlotte.

The sun is slowly fading and the sky burns a deep orange and red. Street lights flicker on.

She knows what she’s getting herself into.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

--

It takes about a week to find what she’d been looking for, something she hopes will change Misha’s mind.

The same grim concrete building that makes up Godforsaken high’s classrooms doesn’t look any better even when the sunrise looks so picturesque behind it. Honey has come to terms with the fact the place never changes.

Although it’s hideous and drab, she does appreciate that the environment enhances her own beauty by just standing in it.

Like a natural Sinstagram filter.

Elias did what he had promised and her follower count has jumped considerably after the past couple of days. She decides he’s a decent person. He even messaged thanks to her for coming with him on his errands.

Admittedly, it wasn’t a horrible experience.

Gray talked to her in a way even her former friends haven’t. Sharing a conversation without any strings attached. No ‘follow me back’ or ‘invite me to this activity’ or ‘share some of your social media freebies’. Gray simply just...talked.

Maybe it was normal for kids to be so carefree.

Still, it was a refreshing change of pace.

Unlike this dump of a high school.

Only a few people eye her in the hallway this morning, it’s just chipped tooth and her idiot gang. They’re less than dirt to Honey at this point, if they don’t have the guts to talk to her face to face, they’re insignificant.

She sends them one award-winning smile before slipping into class 2-B.

And Misha is there at his desk, a gold clip with a white bunny tucked into his straight black hair, working on an assignment that’s not due for two weeks.

Honey drops an expensive looking store bag on his desk.

He gives her a look.

“For your brother.” She says as a matter-of-factly.

Misha’s eyes go from the bag to Honey then back to the bag. Her neck itches, right where her scalp ends and her bare skin starts, and there’s a funny feeling in her stomach.

Honey doesn’t just give out gifts.

In fact, most of the time people give gifts to her so this is new. She’s not sure if she mildly dislikes the feeling or absolutely hates it.

Slowly, like Misha was trying not to spook a wild animal, he takes a peek inside the bag. Honey tries to focus on unpacking the rest of her school supplies, but she fiddles with her pencil case and watches him from the corner of her eye.

His jaw drops.

It’s a hair clip, but embedded with little jewels of silver and blue with extravagant dangling beads of stars hanging from it. It’s shaped like a moon and although flamboyantly large, it’s like looking at a piece of artwork.

A wearable piece of artwork.

Honey messaged Elias if Gray had something like it, to which Elias replied with a negative. By Misha’s reaction, she’s now completely sure Gray has nothing like it.

He holds it so delicately, Honey worries it’ll fall out of his hands.

“I got that for free from a SPROUTS sponsorship last year. I never wear it, but I think Gray might have a better use for it than me.”

Misha doesn’t take his gaze off the hair ornament like he’s afraid it’ll disappear if he looks away. He laughs half-heartedly.

“You tried to attack me a few days ago,”

“I was in a bad mood.”

“That was just a bad mood?”

Misha finally looks her in the eyes. His expression is conflicted.

“You’re doing this to get me to talk about the Midnight Fights, aren’t you?”

Honey brushes through her hair, neatly tied back in a ponytail with another designer scrunchie that matches a few of her beaded bracelets. She crosses her legs and resigns.

“What else would it be about?”

Even though she said it, it makes her tongue feel heavy. Her forehead scar starts to burn.

Misha takes another long look at her gift.

Reluctantly, he relinquishes the hair clip back into the bag, but it looks like it takes all his strength to do so. His hands wrap tightly around the opening as if to keep himself from taking it back out.

“Then I can’t accept it.”

Honey doesn’t let her frustration get the better of her this time. It simmers just below the surface and when she thinks of what Elias had said, she can’t find the same anger she had before.

“It’s not for you,” Honey specifies, “it’s for Gray. It’s his decision to accept it.”

Misha releases his death grip on the bag and his fingertips brush against the bunny clip he’s already wearing.

“Don’t use my sibling against me,” He says without any venom.

“Alright, then it’s not for the Midnight Fights!” She snaps, “It’s just me getting rid of something I don’t want anymore.”

Misha looks slightly amused. He doesn’t return the bag to her desk, keeping it at the top right corner of his table, always in his line of sight.

There’s a few moments of silence in which Honey twists her phone in her hands.

She’s unsure of how to continue, never having to go so far to get something she wanted. She expected at least a thank you even if he still didn’t cave to her plans. Trying to give her gift back was like spitting in her face.

Misha speaks first.

“Gray wants to be friends with you. Gray said they liked your taste in fashion, and for them that means everything.”

Her pride bristles.

Honey knew that kid had the eyes of a genius, a lot of potential for being just like her in terms of accessories. And it was nice to be acknowledged every once in a while, she put a lot of effort into her daily outfit selection.

Misha’s eyes have gone incredibly soft.

“Gray doesn’t make a lot of friends, but when Gray does they choose friends carefully.”

Honey notices the way Misha talks about Gray, gently and with a certain warmth spreading in his black pupils, smoothing out their sharpness. He chooses his words carefully and Honey’s compelled to do the same.

“They’re a good kid,” She says and it comes out as the most honest she’d ever been with Misha. She hates he was having an influence on her.

He pats the moon ornament assuredly.

“I trust Gray’s judgment of character,” He looks at Honey, “so I will try to trust you.”

Honey’s lips curl into a smile.

It worked.

Somewhat.

It’s a compromise. Not exactly the full-fledged agreement that Honey had expected with the gift, but she understands it’s the best she’ll get.

Finally, something is working out for her.