On the first Wednesday of December, sometime in the evening, I walked into something amazing that I will always remember for the rest of my life.

Paul, playing piano, like no one was watching.

Instead of his usual calm, cool, and collected demeanor, he was quite literally rocking out to a piano version of Carry On My Wayward Son. Vocals included. He was hitting the piano keys a little harder than he should've been, but that was okay. It was worth it just witnessing the young adult side of him. The side I rarely got to see. So I couldn't help dawdling by the piano room door, grinning like a maniac to myself as I watched him.

He thought I was at work. Didn't know I was coming home early.

"Now your life's no longer empty," he belted out, harmonizing perfectly with the song, even though he wasn't listening to it. "Surely heaven waits for you!"

"Carry on my wayward son," I sang loudly, unable to help myself.

Immediately Paul's fingers slipped, playing a string of errant keys. Whipping around, he stared at me in horror, a fine blush spread across his cheeks. "Allie!"

"Hey, Paul!" I greeted him cheerfully.

"W-what are you doing back so early?" He ducked his head in embarrassment, staring determinedly at the floor.

I had to resist the urge to aw. How had I not noticed how cute Paul was before? Well, of course I'd noticed, but I hadn't really noticed. Not with Mr. Tucker around, at least. I was too caught up with the idea someone could like me back to actually realize whom else I could possibly fall for. It used to be most of the time I viewed Paul as my guardian, and sometimes found myself wishing he wasn't, that he was something more, but now it's the opposite. I hardly think of him as my guardian anymore. If I think that, I would feel weird for crushing on him. So I try to keep that thought at bay. "Got out early," I finally responded, stopping by the edge of the piano. "Has anyone told you you're a good singer?"

"I'm not," he muttered, as modest as always.

"You should sing for me some time."

Paul grimaced. "No way. The only way I'll sing in front of anyone, is in the car."

"Come on, we'll duet. You know the lyrics to Heart and Soul?" I asked, pushing him over so we could both fit on the piano bench.

"No... do you?"

I hesitated for a moment. "No..."

This caused him to laugh. "Then what's the point?"

"Point is to get you to sing again."

He shook his head. "No way, not happening. You weren't even supposed to see that."

"Why?"

"Isn't it weird? World famous pianist, Paul Russet, loves to bang on the piano keys... the tabloids would have a field day."

I blinked at him, slightly taken aback. Like usual, I forgot the fact Paul was famous. Of course, he hadn't had any recitals since the beginning of the school year, but that was because his entire focus was on teaching, since the school had requested him to substitute again. Well, they called it substitute, but honestly, I thought they paid the old piano teacher to go on break, so Paul would start working, and more students would attend because he was there. But still... "Oh, I remember that tabloid that had a whole story about you being gay."

"Right, because apparently if you support gay rights, that automatically makes you homosexual," Paul responded, rolling his eyes. "Some people are idiots. That one didn't bother me. People can believe what they want, and that died out in about a week."

"Come to think of it... the press hasn't even been to your door. Not since I began staying with you."

"My address is a secret," Paul explained. "Of course, everyone knows I live in this town. Just not where. And I haven't had any public appearances, so they don't really care right now. Like, as you know, I can go out just fine. No disguise needed. Plus, most media is interested in rock stars and drug addicted celebrities, not boring pianists."

I frowned at him. "You're not boring. You're twenty, and the best pianist in America."

"Allie, sometimes I feel like you put me on a pedestal," Paul told me, smiling nonetheless. "But, you've done that since you were three, so..."

"Don't bring up memories I can't remember," I scolded him. "Teach me something."

"Shouldn't we work on your piece for the contest that's in less than two weeks?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I've played that piece every day at least ten times a day, for the past three weeks, Paul. I think I have it down."

"I think you do too," he replied, a proud smile growing on his face. "Amazing. I know I've mentioned it, but you're really good."

"Yeah, you have," I mumbled, remembering all too well his praise. As embarrassing as it was (because Paul was way too enthusiastic about my amateur playing), I appreciated it. It was a little flattering too.

Olivia didn't take his praise for me too well. Sometimes he went a little overboard, but it was worth it to see her expression. Even though Paul and I both knew she was the reason Mr. Tucker was trying to deceive me, she didn't know Paul knew, so she continued to act normal with him. As for me, she didn't even spare me a glance. I could live with that though.

The doorbell sounded just then. Paul and I exchanged confused, than wary looks. Last time a visitor showed up unannounced it was my parents, and a very annoying blonde. "I'll go," Paul volunteered. "You should stay out of sight. I don't know who it could be."

"Okay," I agreed, slipping out of the piano room with him, heading toward the kitchen while he went to the front door. Peering out the kitchen window, I didn't see any vehicles in the driveway. Seconds later, I heard a shout from Paul.

Without thinking, I bolted out of the kitchen and into the main hallway, where I was surprised to see Paul's neighbor, his shirt stained with blood. For a brief second my mind raced for his name. "Sam!" I cried after a moment, rushing forward. "What happ—

Oh my god! Elliot!"

The source of the blood on Sam's shirt was lying passed out on the floor. I dropped to my knees, staring at my friend in horror. Elliot looked like he got caught in a fight with a bulldozer and lost miserably. Both of his eyes were black, his face covered in blood. I hoped to God that his nose wasn't broken, because it sure looked like it was.

"What happened?" Paul asked, crouching down beside me.

"I don't know," Sam responded, glancing over his shoulder. "Found him at the end of our driveway when I was coming home... we should probably bring him inside. Here, I'll grab his upper half, you grab his lower."

Paul nodded, gently pushing me out of the way and latching onto Elliot's legs. "We'll bring him to the spare bedroom."

"And hello, Allie," Sam added with a bright grin upon passing me, my passed out friend in his arms. "You're looking pretty today."

"Really? Is this the right time?" Paul grunted.

Sam tsked. "Silly, Paul. All the time is the right time to compliment a girl."

"So you found him like this?" I asked, ignoring their bickering. "What the... he hasn't gotten in a fight since the last time I punched that guy."

"You punched a guy?" Sam said, sounding impressed.

Paul shot him a look. "Sam. Really?"

"What? I'm a curious fellow."

"I wonder why he'd come here," I said thoughtfully.

"How did he even know where we live?" Paul added, eyebrows furrowing.

"Should we bring him to the hospital?" I asked nervously, glancing at his bloodied face. "What if he has a concussion?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I don't think it's that serious. Let's clean him up a bit and see the real damage."

I nodded my agreement before hurrying off to fill a bowl with warm water and grab a roll of paper towels. Surprisingly, both Sam and Paul handled wiping the blood off Elliot with surprising care. They gently swabbed and rubbed, making sure to clean him up thoroughly. Once all the blood was gone, he looked ten times better. But still pretty bad.

"His nose isn't broken," Sam deduced, squinting down at it. "That's a good thing. We should ice those eyes though."

"And his knuckles," Paul mentioned, pointing at Elliot's hand. My eyes followed his finger and I barely managed to stifle a gasp. They were more bruised than his face. A shade of deep purple and magenta. He must've packed a lot of force into his punches.

Right before the contest too.

Suddenly I had my suspicions. Paul must've guessed my thoughts as well, because he frowned at me. "Now, Allie—"

"It would make sense, wouldn't it? I mean, I would've doubted it before—no one is that crazy— except apparently, Olivia is. She'd do anything to win right?" I said, ignoring his look. "Why wouldn't she get someone to beat up Elliot?"

Paul placed his hands on his hips. "Some people might go that far, but I highly doubt Olivia would—"

"Yes, because she's so sane with those notes and the thing with Mr. Tucker?"

Sam tilted his head in a puppy-dog like way. "What happened?"

"Never mind," I told him dismissively. "I can't believe with all that's happened, you still want to stick up for her..."

Paul gave me an exasperated look. "I'm not sticking up for her. I'm just saying, don't jump to conclusions."

"I'm not," I protested, but it was weak, because I knew he was right. "It would just make sense, is all..."

"So you guys going to get ice or...?"

"Oh yeah!" I cried, twisting on my heel and nearly sprinting into the kitchen. After filling a few zip-lock bags full of ice, I went back to the guest bedroom, tossing two of them to Sam. We wrapped the bags up in paper towels, and set them on the most bruised parts of Elliot. Meaning, his face and hands.

Sam stared at me inquisitively, looking like he wanted to ask a question, but wasn't sure how to ask it. "Er... sorry, is this your boyfriend?"

"Who? Elliot? No," I responded, frowning. "Why?"

"Well, I just thought maybe he was because he came here after being beat up. And you were so cutely worried about him."

Fighting a blush, I turned away from the blonde. "He's my friend, of course I'm worried."

Sam chuckled. "Hey, I'm worried about him too, and I don't even know him."

Paul glanced at his neighbor, offering a pitying smile. "He probably won't like you."

"What makes you say that? I'm a pretty likable person."

"At least, you think you are."

Sam waved Paul off. "In any case, I'm going to stick around until this guy wakes up so I can hear his story."

"My God, you're like that one person at a crime scene who only cares about being nosy," Paul said, shaking his head at his friend. "Which isn't a good thing, Sam. No matter what you think in that messed up head of yours."

"My head is not messed up," Sam retorted, crossing his arms. "I'll have you know I have all As in my classes."

"Congratulations."

While the two of them began to bicker, I frowned down at Elliot, who was still out of it. The ice was making his swelling go down, but he still looked pretty bad. Aside from Olivia, I couldn't imagine why Elliot had gotten into a fight. Scowling, I clenched my fists. If only I'd been there at the time. I would've showed whoever beat him up a thing or two... thought I highly doubt it was one person. Elliot could take on one person, any size, easily. So that means he was ganged up on. Which just makes me more angry.

About ten minutes later, Elliot groaned. Immediately I was on my feet, hovering over him. Unfortunately, Sam had the same idea, so our heads collided as we both tried to lean over his face. Elliot happened to open his eyes then, and he sat up in shock, nearly knocking into both of us. Luckily, our reactions were quick, and we managed to avoid that.

Elliot glanced around the room, expression hard. When his gaze met mine, it softened. "I take it I'm in your house."

"Well, Paul's house," I responded with a smile.

"Good," he sighed, wincing and bringing a hand to his head. "What? You idiots didn't think of getting me ice?" This time his attention was on Paul and Sam.

Sam stared at him blankly for a minute, before grinning. "I like him already."

"Sadist," Paul muttered, bending over to pick up one of the bags of ice Elliot had knocked off himself when he sat up. "Here. They just fell off."

Elliot grunted, snatching the bag from him and pressing it against his forehead. He grimaced and I patted his shoulder comfortingly. "How are you feeling?"

"What do you think?" he snapped back at me. "Obviously I just lost a fight."

"What kind of fight?"

He shot me an annoyed look. "The normal kind."

"The normal kind that you haven't gotten into in months...?"

Elliot squared his shoulders. "I have been. You just haven't noticed."

Skeptical, I pursed my lips. "Fine, let me rephrase that. How in the world did someone beat you up like this?"

"Not someone," he grumbled. "Someones."

"How many?" Sam inquired.

Elliot hesitated for a moment. "Four."

"Four?" I echoed in surprise.

"Awesome!"

"Sam!" Paul scolded, aiming a kick at Sam. "Be a little empathetic!"

Sam winced at Paul's abusiveness and half-smiled at Elliot. "Sorry, dude. But tell me, did you at least kick some of their asses?"

"Three out of four," Elliot told him, sounding a little bit smug. It would've had a better effect if he weren't sporting a bruised face and bruised knuckles.

"Nice," Sam responded with a grin. "That's pretty bad ass."

And, to my incredible surprise, Elliot grinned back. Of course, out of everyone Elliot could get along with, it happened to be Paul's so-called playboy neighbor. "Are you sure it was a normal fight, Elliot?" I asked, searching his face for the truth.

He was as impassive as ever. "Yes."

"Why did you come here?" Paul asked.

"Didn't come here specifically. It just happened to be the closest place I could make it to without passing out," Elliot replied, gently prodding at one of his swollen eyes. Not believing for a second Elliot was telling the truth, I crossed my arms, staring at him suspiciously. "Why would four guys ambush you?"

Elliot spared me a bored look. "Why not?"

"Because that isn't fair."

"There aren't really rules to street fighting, Allie," he told me dryly.

"Still..." My gaze wandered over his hands and I had to stop myself from sucking in a surprised breath of air. "But your hands..."

Frowning, Elliot looked down at them. He tried to curl his right hand into a fist, and a pained expression crossed his face. "Shit. I must've been hitting them hard."

I glanced at Paul. "What about the contest?"

"He still has some time to heal..."

"I doubt I'll be in it," Elliot stated, not sounding like he cared either way. "Which I'm perfectly okay with. Didn't want to do it in the first place."

I gaped at him. "But you could win!"

"You want to win."

"Don't you?"

He shrugged. "Not as much as you."

"But Elliot—"

"Hey, if I can't play, I can't play," he said in a conclusive tone. "Your whining isn't going to make my hand better."

I glowered at him for a minute before heaving a sigh. "Fine. You're right. Still stupid though. You should still try if you can manage next week."

Elliot grunted noncommittally in response.

Paul suddenly cleared his throat. "Allie, why don't you go order something for dinner? For all of us. Chinese or pizza or something. I'm sure Elliot's hungry."

Elliot gave Paul a little glare. "I'm not hungry." But his words were punctuated by his stomach growling.

"Hey, I'm all in for free food," Sam said cheerfully. "Pizza sounds fine to me. Cheese and hamburger and pepperoni and onions and—"

"Just pepperoni," Paul interjected, ignoring his neighbor. "Please and thank you."

For a moment I stood there, frowning, bur finally I gave in, going out of the room to grab the phone and order the pizza. Two minutes later, when I returned, I walked into the three of them chatting quietly. They all stopped the second I entered. "What?" I asked suspiciously.

Paul's expression was decidedly angry. "Nothing," he responded through gritted teeth.

"No... what is it? You guys were obviously talking about something when I left. Probably to do with Elliot, so tell me." Narrowing my eyes, I waited for an answer.

"It's none of your business," Elliot snapped.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that my best friend, who just happened to have gotten the shit beat out of him, isn't my business," I retorted, glowering at Elliot, then at Paul. "So tell me, what were you talking about?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Paul sighed. "About finding the people who did this."

I relaxed my stance a little, but I still felt he was holding something back. "What for?"

"Revenge," Elliot said.

"No, you're not going to fight them again," I interjected quickly. "At least not all four at once."

Sam grinned widely. "I'll help. You know, I used to take Karate. White belt."

"That's what you start of with..."

"Still sounds intimidating."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Either way, you don't have to concern yourself with it."

"Right..." No, I was definitely concerned. Especially with their suspicious attitudes. I highly doubted they were talking about finding the guys who did this. In fact, I bet Elliot knew who and why they did this, and just wasn't going to tell me. Which meant I'd have to find out on my own. "Okay, the pizza will be here in like twenty minutes anyway," I continued cheerfully. "I'll go find some paper plates."

Taken aback by my sudden change of attitude, the three just stared at me as I exited the room again. Smiling to myself, I slipped back into the kitchen.

I've always wanted to be a detective.

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Wow this was long. I apologize again xD But it's been awhile, so yano.