Chapter 35: Sometimes the Best Advice, is No Advice

The shrill bell pierces my eardrums, signaling the end of another mind-numbing day at Salem High. I gather my books, my mind already drifting to thoughts of Erica and our plans for the afternoon. As we slip out of the classroom, a hand suddenly grabs my arm, yanking me to the side.

"Hey, Parker. We need to talk," a gruff voice hisses in my ear.

I turn to see some dude glowering at me, his face twisted into a scowl.

"What's up, Rupert?" I ask, recognizing him from class and trying to keep my tone light.

Erica steps closer, her eyes narrowing dangerously. I can practically feel the protective energy radiating off her in waves.

Rupert's gaze darts nervously to Erica before settling back on me. He puffs out his chest, trying to appear intimidating. "I've seen you eating lunch with Skye lately," he growls, jabbing a finger at my chest. "You better back the fuck off, got it?"

I blink, momentarily stunned by his audacity. "Listen, Rupert," I begin, choosing my words carefully. "I think you might be misunderstanding the situation..."

But Rupert cuts me off, his face reddening. "I'm not misunderstanding anything! Skye's mine, you hear me? Stay away from her!"

‘Oh, I can work with this.’ I stare into his eyes and see genuine potential. To mold this Play-Doh man and cast him into something made of Beskar.

Erica takes a step forward, her fists clenched at her sides. I can see the storm brewing in her eyes, and for a moment, I'm torn between letting her unleash her fury on Rupert and handling this myself. But today, I have decided to play the role of wise master. And Rupey over here will be my student.

I place a hand gently on Erica's arm, feeling her muscles tense beneath my touch. She glances at me, a mix of surprise and curiosity in her piercing blue eyes. I give her a subtle nod, silently asking her to let me handle this.

Turning back to Rupert, I ask in a deceptively casual tone, "How much do you actually like Skye?"

Rupert's face flushes, his bravado faltering for a moment. "I... I love her," he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. "I've loved her for years."

‘LET’S FUCKING GO!!!!!’ A surge of excitement courses through me, dark and intoxicating. My eyes light up, and I can feel a manic grin spreading across my face. The hallway seems to fade away, leaving only Rupert in sharp focus.

"Oh really?" I lean in closer, my voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "What if I told you I could help you win her heart?"

Rupert's eyes widen, a mixture of hope and fear flickering across his features. He takes a half-step back, clearly intimidated by my sudden enthusiasm.

"I... uh... what do you mean?" he asks, his earlier aggression completely evaporated.

I can feel Erica's gaze boring into me, likely wondering what game I'm playing. But I can't stop now. The thrill of teaching him what it takes to love and be loved. I’ve always wanted a student.

"It's simple," I say, my voice dripping with false sincerity. "I've gotten to know Skye pretty well. I could give you some... advice. Help you make her yours." I lie. None of this has to do with how well I know Skye, I just need to sell him on my credibility.

Rupert swallows hard, clearly torn between his desire for Skye and his unease at my intensity. "I... yes," he finally manages, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

*****

I guide Rupert into an empty classroom, Erica following close behind. The late afternoon sun streams through the dusty windows, casting long shadows across the rows of empty desks. The faint scent of chalk and stale air lingers, a reminder of countless lessons past.

As we settle into chairs, I lean forward, elbows on my knees, fixing Rupert with an intense gaze. "So, tell me," I begin, my voice low and conspiratorial, "how well do you actually get along with Skye?"

Rupert shifts uncomfortably, his earlier bravado all but evaporated. "I... I think she's shown an interest," he mumbles, eyes darting around the room. "We’ve hung out one on one a few times.”

I nod encouragingly, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. "And what about other boys? How does she interact with them?"

His face darkens slightly. "She talks to them, but I think she's just being kind. That's the sort of person Skye is, you know? Always nice to everyone."

I pause, contemplating his words. The room falls silent, save for the distant hum of traffic outside and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Erica leans against a nearby desk, her eyes never leaving Rupert, like she’s about to jump him.

"Let me ask you something, Rupert," I say finally, breaking the silence. "What's your endgame here? What do you ultimately want with Skye?"

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. "I... I don't know. Marriage, I guess?" he stammers, the words sounding more like a question than an answer.

I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. "But what kind of love do you want from her, Rupert? Do you want Skye to simply love you, or do you want her to adore your every waking fiber? To love you to the very core of your inner self?"

The air in the classroom seems to thicken, charged with an almost electric intensity. Rupert's eyes widen, a mix of fear and longing flickering across his features. I can see the moment the idea takes root in his mind, spreading like a delicious poison.

"I... I want her to love me completely," he whispers, his voice trembling with a newfound fervor. "I want to be her everything."

A slow, knowing smile spreads across my face. I lean in even closer, my voice barely above a whisper. "Then listen carefully, Rupert.”

The classroom seems to fade away, leaving only Rupert and me in a bubble of conspiratorial intimacy. I can feel Erica's eyes on us, but I'm too caught up in the moment to care.

"You've already laid the groundwork by hanging out with Skye. Now, it's time to escalate. You're going to love to bomb her, Rupert. Shower her with affection so intense it'll leave her breathless."

Rupert's eyes widen, drinking in every word. I continue, painting a vivid picture with my words.

"Tell her she's your favorite person in the whole world. Let her know that just being near her makes your heart race and that her smile lights up even your darkest days. Send her messages first thing in the morning and last thing at night, telling her how much you've been thinking about her."

"But don't stop there," I urge, my voice growing more intense. "Tell her you feel like you need her, that she's become as essential to you as the air you breathe. Write her poetry, leave little notes in her locker, buy her small gifts that show you pay attention to her interests."

Rupert nods eagerly, his earlier hesitation replaced by a fervent gleam in his eyes.

"Overwhelm her with your love, Rupert. Make her feel like she's the center of your universe. She'll probably say yes to dating you regardless, but this... this will cement your place in her heart."

I lean back slightly, my voice taking on a more serious tone. "But remember, this is just the beginning. Once you've secured her affections, we move on to the next phase: nurturing dependency and isolation."

It sounds like I’m just stealing from the DENNIS system, but that’s only partially true.

The room seems to grow darker, the shadows lengthening as I continue. "You'll need to become her everything, Rupert. Her confidant, her protector, her entire world. Gradually, oh so gradually, you'll need to separate her from her other friends and interests. Make her rely on you for emotional support, for validation, for everything."

I can see the idea taking root in Rupert's mind, his expression a mix of awe and barely concealed hunger. "How?" he breathes, leaning in closer.

I lean in even closer. "You're going to have to be extremely toxic to her, Rupert. But in a way that she won't recognize until it's far too late."

Rupert's eyes widen, a mix of shock and fascination flickering across his features.

"First, you'll need to lie to her about her friends and family," I continue, my words dripping with dark enthusiasm. "Create doubts in her mind. Tell her you overheard her best friend talking behind her back. Mention how her parents seem disappointed in her choices. Plant seeds of mistrust everywhere."

I pause to breathe. "Once she's isolated, that's when you start turning your love bombing into something more... sinister," I whisper, my voice taking on an almost hypnotic quality. "You'll still shower her with love, but you'll start to neg her too. Say things like, 'No one else could put up with you like I do.' Or 'You're lucky to have me, you know. Not many people would tolerate your quirks.'"

The room seems to pulse with dark energy as I continue, painting a vivid picture of psychological manipulation.

"Make her feel like you're her only lifeline, Rupert. Her sole source of love and validation. And then, ever so slowly, start withholding that affection. Make her work for it. Crave it."

I can see the idea taking root in Rupert's mind, his eyes glazing over with a mixture of desire and something darker.

"Remember, Rupert," I whisper, my voice barely audible, "this isn't just about love. It's about possession. Total, complete ownership of her heart, mind, and soul."

Rupert leans forward, his eyes wide with a mixture of fascination and unease. The classroom feels smaller now, the walls closing in as the shadows lengthen.

"But... but what if it doesn't work?" Rupert asks. "What if she sees through it all?"

I smile, a slow, predatory grin spreading across my face. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting strange patterns across the room.

"Oh, Rupert," I purr, my voice dripping with dark amusement. "There are always more... extreme measures."

Rupert leans in closer, hanging on my every word.

"You could threaten suicide," I suggest casually as if discussing the weather. "Tell her you can't live without her. That your very existence depends on her love."

Rupert's eyes widen, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. I wave my hand dismissively.

"But no, that's too risky. She might call the cops. A better tactic..." I lean in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Would be to start cutting yourself. It would of course require sacrifice, but love is sacrifice."

The room seems to grow colder as I continue, my words painting a vivid, disturbing picture.

"Show her the cuts. Tell her it's her fault. That her indifference, her lack of total devotion, is driving you to this. You really want to put the onus on her, Rupert. Make her feel responsible for your pain. Soon the scars of your self harm will also become a warning."

Behind me, I hear Erica mutter, "What the fuck, Jason." But I'm undeterred, caught up in my thoughts.

"Of course," I continue, my eyes gleaming with a manic light, "you could always resort to violence. But she's stronger than you, isn't she? It wouldn't work. No, no, we need something more... psychological."

Rupert nods eagerly, his earlier hesitation replaced by a hungry, desperate look. The shadows in the room seem to writhe and dance, feeding off our dark energy.

"And if all else fails," I whisper, my voice barely audible, "there's always the nuclear option. Kidnap her."

The word hangs in the air, heavy and ominous. Rupert's breath catches in his throat.

"Stockholm syndrome is a powerful thing, Rupert," I murmur, my words weaving a spell of dark possibility. "Given enough time, even the strongest will can be broken. Reshaped. Molded to your desires."

Rupert's face pales, his earlier eagerness replaced by a mix of horror and fascination. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and starts to stand, eyes darting between me and the door.

"Maybe... maybe this is too heavy for me," he mumbles.

In an instant, I'm on my feet, hands on his shoulders, pushing him firmly back into the chair.

"Are you weak-willed, Rupert?" I hiss, leaning in close. My eyes bore into his, unblinking and intense. "Do you want Skye or not?"

Rupert stares at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple.

"I... I do want her," he whispers, voice trembling. "But this seems... wrong."

I straighten up, my demeanor shifting instantly. A warm smile spreads across my face, my eyes softening with understanding. The oppressive atmosphere in the room seems to lift slightly.

"Oh, Rupert," I say gently, my voice filled with compassion. "I know it sounds intense. But love... true love... it's not always pretty. In fact, true love should be ugly. How else will you know it’s real.”

I sit down next to him again. My posture is open and inviting. "Think about it. How many great love stories involve easy, uncomplicated relationships? None. Love is messy. It's raw. It's about doing whatever it takes."

Rupert nods slowly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "I guess that makes sense," he murmurs.

"Of course it does," I say soothingly, patting his arm. "And hey, maybe we start small. Just try the love bombing. See how it feels. If it works, great. If not, we can reassess."

Rupert's eyes light up at this more palatable suggestion. "Yeah... yeah, I could do that," he says, nodding more enthusiastically.

"That's my boy," I say warmly, giving his shoulder a friendly pat. "I knew you had it in you."

The room feels lighter now, the shadows retreating as the rays of sunlight filter through the windows. Rupert's posture relaxes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

But then his brow furrows, a new thought clearly troubling him. He looks at me, hesitation clear in his eyes. "Jason... did you... did you do all this to Erica?"

I pause, the question hanging in the air like a dense fog.

"Why would I want to do that to Erica?" I muse, my voice is soft and distant. My gaze drifts to the window. The world outside seems to blur and fade, leaving only the reflection of my own face staring back at me.

Erica and Rupert exchange glances, their confusion palpable in the heavy silence that follows.

Rupert leans forward, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. "What do you mean, Jason?" he asks.

I turn back to them, an enigmatic smile playing on my lips. "I simply want to be the Skye of my own story," I reply, my tone light yet laden with hidden meaning.

For a moment, the room seems to hold its breath. Then, Erica breaks the silence with a burst of laughter, rich and warm. She shakes her head, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection. "Jesus Christ, Jason. You are fucking hopeless," she speaks lovingly, reaching out to ruffle my hair.

Rupert looks between us, his expression a kaleidoscope of emotions, confusion, fascination, and a hint of something deeper, almost like recognition. He shakes his head slowly as if trying to clear away a fog of conflicting thoughts.

As we gather our things and make our way out of the classroom, Rupert falls into step beside me. His earlier hostility completely evaporated. "You know, Jason," he says, his voice tinged with a newfound respect, "I want to be your friend."

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

He grins a bit sheepishly. "You're a real boy's boy, you know that?"

I chuckle at Rupert's comment. “Sure, let's be friends. In fact, why don't you join us for lunch tomorrow? You'll get to spend more time with Skye that way."

Rupert's face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Really? That would be awesome!"

Just as I’m about to explain the rules of lunch to Rupert as we walk down the hallway, a commotion near the lockers catches our attention. There, in all her glory, is Tara, locked in a passionate embrace with a blonde boy. And when I say passionate, I mean it looks like they're trying to devour each other's faces. It's a spectacle of teenage hormones gone wild, complete with wandering hands and muffled moans that echo off the metal lockers.

Erica and I exchange glances, stifling our laughter. It's like watching a nature documentary if nature documentaries featured hormone-crazed teenagers instead of mating flamingos.

Rupert, however, looks absolutely disgusted. His face scrunches up like he's just bitten into a pus filled sore while eating a girl out. "Ugh, gross," he mutters, averting his eyes. "You guys better watch out for that boy. That's Louis Hill."

"Louis Hill?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. I vaguely remember him liking Power Rangers for too long when we were in middle school. "What's his deal?"

Rupert shakes his head, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He used to be this quiet, nerdy kid. But since early October, he's turned into a total slut. It's like someone flipped a switch or something."

My blood goes cold at the thought of someone trying to get between Erica and me. "Oh? Does he go around stealing girls or something?"

"Nah." Rupert replies, his brow furrowed in confusion. "He doesn't steal girls. He’s just ran through. Like gang bangs, and there are rumors of him offering a glory hole in the boy's bathroom. He’s probably riddled with disease.”

I shrug, not really caring. “Ehh, sounds kinda like his own problem. And if he’s not hurting anybody, who cares.”

Rupert Scoffs. “I guess. Anyways, see you later.”

“Yeah, see you at lunch.” I waive good bye as he leaves.

*****

As we leave the school building, the late afternoon sun bathes everything in a warm, golden glow. The air is crisp with the first hints of autumn, carrying the faint scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires. We make our way across the parking lot, our footsteps crunching on scattered acorns and gravel.

"So," Erica begins, breaking the comfortable silence between us. Her voice carries a mix of curiosity and concern. "What was that all about back there? With Rupert?"

I shrug, my hands buried deep in my pockets. "What do you mean?"

Erica raises an eyebrow, her piercing blue eyes fixed on me. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the part where you gave him a crash course in psychological manipulation and borderline criminal behavior?"

We reach the car, and Erica leans against the driver's side door, arms crossed.

"Oh, that," I say casually. "It just felt right in the moment, you know?"

Erica's eyebrows shoot up, disappearing beneath her messy blonde fringe. "It felt right? Jason, that kid is gonna ruin her.”

I pause, considering Erica's words. The parking lot stretches out around us, a sea of asphalt dotted with islands of cars gleaming in the fading sunlight. A gentle breeze rustles through nearby trees, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves and distant woodsmoke.

"Maybe," I admitted softly, my gaze drifting to the horizon where the sun paints the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. "But isn't that what love is sometimes? A beautiful ruin?"

Erica's expression softens, her blue eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. The air between us seems to crackle with unspoken tension, thick with possibility.

"Jason," she says, her voice low and husky, "do you want me to ruin your life with my love?"

"Yes," I breathe, the word escaping my lips like a prayer. "Erica, if we stay as we are in this relationship right now, I will always be happy and love you endlessly. But a piece of me... a piece of me wants to be drowned completely."

Erica's lips curve into a warm smile, her eyes glinting with a mixture of affection and something darker, more primal. The sunlight catches in her blonde hair, creating a halo effect that makes her look almost otherworldly.

"Get in the car. Let’s go home." she says softly, her voice filled with promise and barely contained desire.