Friends and Enemies are one and the same[Jack Lex]

"Your house?" Krys huffed. "This house has been condemned for years. No one lives here,"

Krys looks down at the person yelling at him. He looked to be around his age, there wasn't too much difference in their heights and the guy even looked a little familiar. Maybe Krys had seen him down in the market. There was a slight chance he had seen him at school but if he wasn't someone that Krys hung out with on a regular basis then he wouldn't remember him at all.

"So, what, you a squatter or something?

Krys had never felt the need to use is acrobatic abilities outside of the water before. even now he didn't feel that he needed to, not to get away safely at least. But it would be fun to flip over the guy and land lightly on his feet. It was something that he didn't get to showcase often. So as the man grabbed his coat he slipped his arms out of the sleeves easily and using the man's shocked, loose grip, he used the man's shoulder as a springboard and flipped over his head-landing on his feet like a cat.

"Wouldn't asking nicer have just been the easier thing to do old man?" The man wasn't actually old but he had been far too slow to catch him and stop Krys from dropping onto the ground. And it always irritated people to have their ages brought up in any negative way. With a cocky smile and an annoying flip of the hair, Krys turned on his heel and loped back to his house.

Krys didn't take kindly to being hit. But he reacted worse to theft. He may have given the guy a hard time but that jacket had been a gift from his girlfriend and he was willing to beat someone into a bloody mess if they threatened it. So he recoiled from the hit easily and did something that normally he would be loath to do. He spit the blood that had welled in his mouth from the punch right at the guy, he made sure not to hit him but the man was so destracted by the disgusting act that Krys was able to grab his coat and get it back on; moving out of range of another attack before the person had even regained his balance. He smiled showing his bloody mouth and lips.

"The name's Krys," he dusted himself off and walked away, making it back to his house before the urge to turn around and attack the guy became more than just a light idea. He didn't want to get punished for beating someone when he was already having a hellacious week. He knew that his mother would fly into an absolute panic when she saw the blood so he tried to think of a fitting excuse for the injury.

He couldn't say he slipped off the dock, mostly because that would be the dumbest lie he could ever tell anyone ever. He functioned better in the water than he did on land. And he never lost his balance, even when the surface he was standing on was completely soaked. He could tell her he got into a friends scrap with a classmate of his-that wouldn't be too bad of a lie. He had gotten into fights with his friends often, always wanting to test himself. And he often came home with some sort of injury when that happened.

He didn't really care honestly what his mother was going to say. He was just happy that he had gotten his jacket back. He really would have had no problem attacking the man who had taken it. But he didn't want to get blood on it. He made a mental note that if he ever saw the mysterious squatter again he was going to pay him in full for the bruised jaw and bloody cheek he had given him. Usually he might have second thoughts about it, but with the week he was having and was going to have, he didn't care. It would be a good stress reliever for him.

When he went to school the next day a bruise had bloomed nicely on his jawline and his cheek was a little swollen from his teeth digging into it. But he was able to pass it off as a sparing injury-everyone believed him.

When the day was over he separated himself from his friends, avoid the group as he walked to his least favorite spot. It was the graveyard for the District. It was a large area of land that was donated to the bodies of deceased loved ones, especially when considering how little land there was in relation to how much they relied on the ocean for their jobs. He walked through all of the plots of land until he came to the very back of the cemetery.

On a small plot of land there was a small white headstone, it wasn't anything ornate or special. It was the newest one in the entire cemetery and it was covered in flowers. Most of them had been brought by Krys himself but the family of the person under the ground was often there decorating the grave with flowers and teddy bear. Krys sat by the headstone, as he often did, leaning against it and propping his arms up on his knees. And he started talking to her, his girlfriend, soul mate-whatever you wanted to call her. He had lost her to the Games and he came here everyday to try to ease the aching he felt deep within his core.

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Krys was exhausted. The past two nights he had gone to the cemetery and fallen asleep against the headstone of his precious Anabella. It definitely wasn't a comfortable place to sleep, or even to sit really. But he didn't feel like getting up from the headstone. It wasn't that he felt happy there, he felt horrible, but he felt a little less cray from all of the depression. He had been falling asleep in class but no one said anything about it. The teachers were lenient with him because they knew his situation and his friends knew better than anyone what he was going through so they didn't pester or bother him at all about it. But the lack of sleep and anniversary of Anabella's death had put him in a rotten mood. As well as the bruise on his face.

So when he left school-his friends all saying quick and somber goodbyes-he wasn't expecting to see the person that he had gotten into a "fight" with. When the guy walked up to him and slowed down to match his stride Krys was certain there was some negative reason for it. He wasn't expecting to hear that the guy wanted to talk.

Was there harm in talking? Not usually, but Krys didn't usually get into fights with random people and then have causal conversations with them later. Was he here to deliver a threat? That if Krys told anyone about the bruise or about the fact the guy was hold up in an abandoned house that he would do more than just bruise his face? The chances of that seemed pretty slim but there was never a way of knowing until the conversation got under way. But if he was going to threaten Krys, it didn't make sense for him to show up outside of the school-there would be a ton of witnesses to whatever was said or done. With that Krys became relatively positive that the man wasn't there to deliver any kind of threat or warning. But should he really give him the chance to say anything? Well, there was no point in ignoring it.

"Sure, why not," Krys tried to not sound as angry and tired and annoyed as he was but it was almost impossible. He was having a bad week and he wasn't going to suck it up for someone he didn't know. "What about?"

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"You're lucky it was me and not one of the other morons around the school," Krys was still irritated that he had been hit but it wasn't enough to stay all bent out of shape about. He had learned a long time ago to just let some things go. And technically he had been on the guys property, even if he was just a squatter. But he didn't really believe that the guy was one hundred percent sorry, just that he had enough class and shame to apologize for hitting a teenager.

"Well, if that's all, I've gotta go," he sped up just a little, just enough to put some space between him and his "acquaintance ".