Olive had never, in all her years of schooling, had a detention before. She was a good student who got good grades and was well behaved in class. She bit her tongue and minded her manners and now, she had let Enoch get to her in such a way that made her argue right back.

Her eyes had filled with tears that she refused to let fall until she had run into the bathrooms between classes. He was rude and didn't care one jot about what she tried to tell him. To think she'd been naïve enough to think Enoch would thank her for returning his book. Instead, he hadn't even believed her when she insisted she hadn't peeked. She hadn't been lying. Though sorely tempted at home overnight, she hadn't opened his book. Enoch was clearly a private person and it would have felt wrong and spiteful of her to disrespect that and flick through what he clearly didn't want people to see.

This was all she got for trying to be a good person. Olive drew in a shaky breath as she made her way to the study hall at the end of the day where their detention was to take place with Mr. Clark. She smoothed out her skirt and tugged on the sleeves of her school jumper before sliding open the door and stepping in. She was right on time and Enoch had not arrived yet. She wasn't sure if she was glad for that or not. Mr Clark was sitting at the larger teacher's desk at the front of the room and nodded to a seat at the end of the front row for Olive to sit.

She smiled a tiny bit and set her books down. If nothing else it gave her time to get her homework finished, she supposed. She had just sat down and folded her hands nervously on the desk, wringing her fingers together and looking determinedly forward when the door opened again and Enoch slouched in. His lean face was twisted into a miserable scowl which Olive noticed only made his already pronounced cheekbones standout even more before she quickly looked away.

Enoch nodded to the teacher who gestured for him to take his seat, and made his way over to the opposite side of the room from Olive and sunk into the furthest chair, dropping his homework book in a pile on the table.

The red headed girl looked down and then quickly over to Mr. Clark as he cleared his throat.

"I don't want to hear any talking in the next hour, or sitting idly, this isn't time for you to sulk," He was clearly addressing Enoch in particular who looked like he was about to do just that, "This is time for you to work. You may begin."

The dull thump of books and textbooks opening was the only sound for a few moments in the room as both Enoch and Olive didn't so much as look at each other and began their homework. Olive opened up her Sociology textbook and tried to focus her mind on the paragraphs that seemed to blur into one mess of words. Her head was not in it today.

After ten minutes, Mr Clark sighed and pushed his large frame out of his chair from the desk at which he sat grading papers. His thick head of black hair waved to the back of his neck and Olive barely glanced up as he started to wander over to Enoch first. He paused over his shoulder and Olive snuck a glance over. She saw as Enoch's grip tightened on his pen and he visibly stiffened but did not appear to shift his gaze from his paper.

Apparently satisfied that the boy was doing the right thing, Mr. Clark began to make his way across the room. Hastily Olive looked back at her notes and shifted her text book slightly to the left for ease of view. She felt the teacher's presence right at her shoulder as he peered over to inspect her work. Evidently she was more convincing than Enoch, and to be honest, Olive wasn't surprised at this, as he disappeared from her shoulder a lot sooner.

Another ten tedious, dragging minutes in which every tick of the clock seemed to pass in slow motion, passed before the door opened and Mr. Barron stuck his head in the room to address Mr. Clark.

Olive glanced up in time to catch Mr Barron, the mathematics teacher, glance first at her and then at Enoch before addressing the other teacher in hushed tones she couldn't quite make out.

After a moment Mr Clark sighed and hefted himself out of his chair again. He cleared his throat and both Enoch and Olive looked up together.

"I'm needed elsewhere for a few minutes. I trust you both enough not to leave this room until I come back, I won't be long. Remember this is detention not social time." Here he cut his dark eyes to Enoch. "Not that I think too much talking will be an issue here."

Olive nodded while Enoch merely lowered his face again back to his work and a few moments later both teachers had left the classroom and the door rolled closed behind them.

The silence and tension in the room was ever more palpable with the absence of a teacher to command it and for a full five minutes neither Enoch nor Olive so much as lifted their heads from the books until movement from his side of the room made Olive look over.

With Mr. Clark still absent, Enoch had put down his pen and pulled out his sketch book again, the source of all this. He opened it and began combing through each page as if checking for signs that Olive might have sabotaged it or something.

The red head hesitated before letting out a long slow breath and turning in her seat to better face him.

"I...I really didn't look, Enoch." She barely whispered but in the otherwise silent room it carried clearly across the space between them.

Enoch turned his head to her, immediately making eye contact but his face otherwise an impassive pale mask. He didn't reply for so long that Olive dropped her head and was sure he didn't believe her at all.

"I promise I didn't. But okay, don't believe me then."

"Why?"

The single word caught Olive off guard that for a moment she couldn't believe Enoch had spoken to her at all. He'd been so angry with her and Enoch was definitely the kind of person to hold a grudge.

"Because..." Olive couldn't help herself, she pushed out her chair and stood on her toes to peer out of the high window into the hall to check for any returning teachers. The hallway was empty so she turned eand walked over to Enoch's side of the room and sat down two seats away from him. She folded her dainty hands on the desk in front of her and began to nervously tap her nails on the desk.

"I knew you wouldn't want anyone to. It felt wrong to look without permission."

Anxious for his response she turned to the boy who was looking at her with the familiar intense, empty stare he always did, when he bothered to look at all. But this time his eyes, which Olive had always admired the brilliant blue of, weren't quite so empty. There was something behind them that could have been any number of things Olive couldn't quite pin down.

"You got so angry, you wouldn't let me explain. I wanted you to know I never did look."

Enoch snapped his gaze away from hers and Olive swallowed a lump as he just looked back down and began spinning a pencil nimbly between his fingers. He didn't care. He didn't believe her no matter how hard she tried, Enoch O'Connor was never going to take her word for it.

"I believe ya."

"What?" Her head shot up so fast her plait swung around and hit her in the cheek.

Enoch wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the clock on wall at the far end of the room but for once he sounded genuine. As genuine as she had ever heard from his mouth anyway.

He shrugged one shoulder and reached up a hand to tug his school tie looser, a movement which Olive inadvertently felt herself blush at.

"You would 'ave somefin' ta say if you 'ad. Knowin' 'ow much you like talkin'."

It was a very backhanded comment but Olive would take it for now. At least he believed her. She couldn't help it. A smile, as happy as she ever was, broke over her face at his admission though his choice of words peaked a little curiosity inside her. What exactly had he meant by her having something to say about the things he drew? If he thought she wouldn't want to have anything to do with him because of whatever it was, he was probably wrong.

"Will you show me?" The words slipped out before Olive could stop herself and immediately she pressed a hand over her mouth as Enoch raised eyebrow and scoffed.

"Obviously not." He muttered and, with an almost protective air about him, leaned over his things shielding them with his chest.

"I didn't...I'm sorry, I know they're private I just...I wouldn't judge you for it if that's what you think of me."

"Why the 'ell do you care so much? Ya don't know me." Enoch shook his head and Olive wet her lips nervously and offered him a little smile which he did not return.

"I just want to be your friend, Enoch. I think you know I would never tell. Not even Emma."

They sat there, a few chairs apart for over thirty seconds with Enoch just looking at her with such scrutiny that Olive felt for a moment that she was on display.

Then Enoch did something she had never seen before. His lips curled upwards the tiniest amount. It lasted just a moment, barely even a second but in that second Olive felt like she had finally made a difference. She had heard him laugh a few times, but more often than not it was a humourless, harsh laugh of sarcasm or cruel enjoyment. Never had she seen him smile, and for that second in which it took for it to vanish from Enoch's face, Olive glimpsed a whole other side of him which entranced her.

Her heart thundered in her chest so hard she was sure it echoed in the otherwise empty room as Enoch leaned back and picked up his sketchbook. He thumbed through it, more than half full of drawings she could only glimpse for an instant, and stopped on one page.

Enoch seemed to hesitate for a few moments and Olive, who was still in disbelief that he was really doing what he was doing, did not press him. In a moment Enoch had dropped the book, open to a double spread of pages and pushed it across the space between them towards Olive.

In an instant Olive understood what he had meant. Why he was so sure she would have had something to say about the things he drew. One of the pages in the A4 sized book he was letting her see was taken up in a single drawing which clearly he had put some time into. It was the head and torso of a person, faceless and featureless on their left side until the skin seemed to peel away halfway across. The entire right side of the person was skeletal, with every bone and joint as accurate as Olive knew it to be. And beneath the half of the breastbone that was visible, a fully detailed and shaded heart accurate from aorta to ventricle. It was so incredibly detailed and carefully drawn that Olive was far more impressed by his skill that she didn't even consider the morbid nature.

"Enoch, this is incredible. I had no idea you were so..."

"Yeah, yeah. Whateva."

The skeleton in itself was not what might have been considered disturbing and morbid. At least less so than the bizarre nature of the many, cruder sketches on the opposite sheet. Across the page was six strange, mismatched sketches all composed of different bits and pieces that Olive had to liken to something that could have been featured in "Frankenstein", which she was incidentally studying for English Literature. One had six legs like a crab and one of its claws with the crudely drawn head of what she assumed was supposed to be some doll. Another was more human-esque but with the clawed talons of a bird of prey and tentacles. A third's head appeared to face completely backwards to the rest of the drawing which was a peculiar combination of a frog and a bird.

Yet she was not deterred from Enoch O'Connor in the least. It strangely fascinated her, though she certainly understood why he wanted to keep his drawings private. If the wrong person saw them he'd be branded even weirder than people clearly already thought.

"Right, that's enough." A hand reached out and pulled the book back right from under her hand as Olive turned to look at him curiously.

"What are those?"

"I didn' say I was answerin' questions, did I?"

"Thank you." Olive beamed at him which effectively seemed to silence Enoch. How far it had come since Biology. Maybe now he would finally see that she really did only want to be his friend. He could trust her instead of actively pushing her away.

Enoch merely grunted after a moment and protectively tucked his sketchbook away.

Olive had just opened her mouth to say something when heavy footsteps in the hall made them both look up. They had only fifteen minutes left in the detention period and Mr Clark was on his way back. Olive leapt from the chair and scurried back to her seat on the opposite side of the room from Enoch. She looked back over with wide eyes as she realised she'd left the chair well away from the desk in her rush. Enoch appeared to notice the same thing and she watched as he slumped in his seat to stretch out his long legs to pull the chair back in at the same moment the door opened and Mr. Clark entered.

It might have been a mark against her the blameless school behaviour she held in high esteem in her own mind, but Olive left detention with a smile on her face and a fuzzy feeling in her chest that had been far from there an hour ago.

Enoch and Olive went their separate ways down the corridor and while Olive looked back and smiled at the retreating finger of the moody boy whose good graces were slowly making themselves known if only the slightest bit, he did not look back.