Altan was not a patient boy. And the fact he couldn't track down the stupid little punk with the gold streaked hair really got on his nerves. Every second he was not confined to class he spent prowling the halls and classrooms. He even stooped so low as to treading foot on chess, games, robotics, band, and other nerdy clubs grounds, thinking surely some loser like that would be in at least one of those places. During classes he asked everyone he knew, even the loners in the corner, if they knew of a guy, roughly 6 foot, lean build with jaw length brown hair and a gold streak going through this bangs. Every time he nearly added in his weird vibrant golden eyes before remembering they were contacts and that he's mostly likely take them out to go to school.
After Altan was thoroughly convinced the idiot did not go to his school, he reached out to every single contact he had in other schools-which was a lot-to see if he resided anywhere else. But there was nothing. Nobody knew about this kid. He scowled. Desperate times called for desperate measures. With 5 minutes left until the bell rang and freed him from the torture that was school, he hid his phone under the lip of his desk and texted her.

Psycho 💀

Hi Kaitlyn. Have you seen a dude
around your school. Like 6 ft,
has a stupid golden streak in his
brown hair, probably wearing
cheap ass clothes?

What do I get if I tell you
;)

Me not getting a restraining
order. I'm serious tho, have u
seen him

Wow, Altan.
You my know what, I did see him. He
was out by that stupid library
by your stupid house.
He's way hotter than you, I see
why ur jealous
Better kisser too 😘

Sure

Once upon a time her manipulative lies to try and make Altan jealous so he'd stay or pay attention to her would've phased him. In fact, her even seeing him could've been a lie. But it was a chance, and that's all that mattered to Altan. His fingers danced along the edge of a switchblade concealed in his pocket. He wouldn't stab the dude but maybe he'd start with a nice hair cut. Do him a favour while he's at it and carve out that horrid dye. Humiliate him, post a picture of it to his story for good measure... whatever it took to sedate his anger. It wasn't his fault if the blade drew blood.
The shriek of the bell drew Altan from his dark thoughts and he shot out of his seat, not caring in the slightest about Ms. Brin calling out her protests, something along the lines of "the bell doesn't dismiss you, I do!". The old hag could slip and retire permanently. He bolted through the halls, staying one step ahead of the tsunami of high schoolers that threatened to slow his progress. He shouldered past some short fat kid, waved off Ian, and barely registered May's boyfriend demanding a fight, spittle flying as he tried to push towards Altan.
      Outside he broke into a sprint, shielding his eyes from a blinding midday sun and making a bee line for the library. The chances that he'd be there, if he was even there in the first place, were slim. But he didn't really care. And once he was finished teaching the guy a lesson he'd head to Ian's and drink until the world went dark. Ian always had stashes of liquor, vodka, and rum. He clenched his jaw and redoubled his efforts.
      Wheeling around the bend the public library came into view, an impressive cobblestone structure probably older than any other building in the city. Monotone walls held volumes upon volumes of dusty old books in stale silence. Altan had noted once that the only reason the ancient library hadn't been replaced by some new modern centre was due to the owner, a petite old widow who insisted that it housed historical and cultural information lost in today's time, and the surrender of the library in tow meant surrender of such "precious" information. Just the thought made Altan roll his eyes. There was nothing you couldn't google and get a hundred and one articles on. It was probably just some old superstitious crap anyway, made up a long time ago when people made up stuff to cover what they couldn't understand. The old lady should just give it up already, it's not like she had much time left anyway, or anyone to pass the place on to. But he was getting distracted. Right now his focus was on finding the freak.
      It was rush hour and Altan spotted dozens of people in the area, going this way and that to wherever their sorry insignificant lives needed them next. There was a heavily pregnant woman ushering along a tottering boy, the old librarian tending to some fragrant red flowers, a middle aged man who's jowls jiggled and pot belly stuck out from under a dress shirt and suit, several bland middle class people walking dogs or biking, and a grimy homeless man begging for food and money. But no freak. Altan sighed in frustration, foot tapping an inpatient beat into the cracked sidewalk. Swallowing his disgust and fishing around for some spare change he approached the homeless dude. Mustering the most genuine smile he could tolerate, Altan approached, trying not to cringe as calloused filthy hands accepted the coins.
       "Oh God bless you, thank you, thank you! This city needs more kind souls like you," the man rasped, wrinkles hugging his face as he beamed. Altan tried not to stare at his rotting teeth, or wrinkle his nose as a nasty stench assaulted his nostrils.
        "Just... doin my job," Altan said, subtly wiping his hands on his pants. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have seen a guy, like six feet tall with brown hair and a golden streak through his bangs pass by here, would you?" He asked, eyes darting around.
        The mans eyes lit up, "You mean the lovely youngster with those stunning golden eyes?"
       "Yeah, yeah. Golden eyes, that's him! Where is he?"
       "What a kind soul, that boy was. He headed towards the forest a little while ago..." the man hummed, fishing around in his pocket before producing a handful of oval gold coins, "gave me all this! Can you believe... it?"
          The mans words trailed off as he looked at Altan, who had taken off the minute he'd revealed his location. The homeless man watched Altan jump a ledge and sprint across the street-nearly becoming a splat on the road-before disappearing between some buildings. The man watched in confused silence for a few more moments before shrugging and pocketing the change and shiny golden coins the boy with the glowing eyes had given him. Settling back down and producing stale bread from a worn bag, the homeless man sighed.
       "Always in a rush those ones... oh to be young again."