AN: Ooh boy, my first AHS story, and I'm tackling a complete AU for the first time. I never knew how hard it was to keep the character you love when you change half of their life. Jeez.

Well, we're starting off here with Tate, who may be a little more into literature than they overtly state in the show, but I'm sure that doesn't bother anyone here - if only all guys were... ANYWAY! I'll quit my rambling and let you enjoy!

Disclaimer: In no way do I have the mental capacity to create and own American Horror Story. I just make a habit of writing about characters who don't belong to me.

Tate POV

Tate was tucked away in the darkest corner of the library, sitting Indian-style in the plush chair while his eyes skimmed his well-worn copy of 'The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe'.

He liked it back here because it felt like he disappeared from the world. He could bury himself in poetry or birds or classics, whatever he so pleased, and he could even almost forget about all the fucking idiots and slutty bitches who occupied the school with him. No one came to this section; it was all beat up textbooks, or books they didn't use in classes anymore. Everyone had their own books in this school. So he curled up here every day for study hall straight through lunch and tried to forget about everything. It was the only reprieve he had from his fantasies - daydreams about killing his goddamn stupid classmates or himself. There wasn't a single person in this godforsaken place that he liked.

"Hey. I need a book for History." The voice wafted back through the stacks; he presumed she was talking to the librarian. Her voice was sort of scratchy even though she was speaking loudly. 'Smoker,' he thought. He sighed. If she needed a book for class, she'd be invading his peace soon enough. There were some mumbled words from the old lady who must've worked in the library forever, then the shuffling of fabric as the girl drew nearer to him.

To say he was surprised when he saw her was an understatement. He wasn't the only person at Westfield who didn't quite fit in, but she took it to a new level. She must've been new, because he would have remembered seeing her.

Her hair was long and dirty blonde - it hung freely, falling into her face. She had big eyes, he noticed. He could tell she was slim, even through her baggy Nirvana t-shirt and slightly oversized jeans. The Chucks she sported told him she didn't give a fuck about the impression she made here - none of the girls would like her, at least. Over it all, she wore a huge cardigan that almost went to her knees, though it was caught under the strap of her beaten backpack. The 'don't fuck with me' attitude she oozed went well with her haphazard outfit.

She stared back at him as he took her in for a few seconds before turning to the row of textbooks and searching for her History text. He watched her for a few more seconds before turning back to his Poe, assuming she'd leave once she got what she came for. He jumped a little in a few moments when the textbook slammed onto the table he was sitting at. She shrugged her backpack into one chair on the other side of the table and flopped into the seat across from him, bringing a knee up to her chest and brushing her hair out of her face. She pulled out a paper from her pocket and started flipping through the textbook before he said anything.

"Skipping on your first day?' He asked. Her eyes flicked up to him and she stared for a few seconds before acknowledging the question.

"Catching up. Henderson told me to read in here since they're having a test today." She explained in her raspy voice. He nodded.

"You?" She questioned back.

"Study hall. Then lunch. I'm here for a while." He answered. She probably didn't really care, it was just a courtesy response.

"What class are you reading Poe in? My favorites are 'The Sleeper' and 'Annabel Lee'." She surprised him. He didn't know anyone else here who really cared about poetry, let alone anything he was into. 'The Sleeper' was one of his favorites, too.

"It's not for a class. All my work's done though, so I thought I'd just read some. I like Poe. He's kind of uplifting to people who're already depressed." He told her, letting the book set on the table. It was so beaten that it stayed open to the page. She raised a crisp eyebrow at it.

"Beaten copy. Shitty home life or something?" She asked, apparently not caring about her History reading. Her big brown eyes pierced straight into his, as if daring him to lie to her.

"Isn't everyone's? My mom's so fucking messed up, I doubt she'd notice if I didn't come home tonight. Dad left with a maid when I was a kid, my brother died last year, and mom's new cock has to be the stupidest fuck I've ever met." He trailed off, not sure why he was telling her this. She was officially the only person at this school he'd had an actual friendly conversation with that didn't have to do with a class project or track. She huffed.

"Fucked up shit. My dad cheated on my mom after she had this brutal miscarriage almost a year ago, so we came all the way here from Boston." She reciprocated, rolling her eyes. She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Guess we both have shitty lives then. So where do you live? I thought everything was taken in the area." He questioned, running through houses in his head. He supposed that she might live in one of those ridiculously expensive homes in the Cliffs, but it didn't seem like it.

"Some house built in the 20's. Fucking huge. There's like, five bedrooms and three bathrooms or something." She said somewhat passively. He stared as his mind connected the dots.

"Murder House." She gave him an incredulous look.

"No, that's seriously what they call it. I guess the first owners died in there, some crazy murder-suicide thing. The last owners too, same way." He explained. His mom was always talking about how that house gave her the creeps. He thought it was just because the maid his dad had run off with had worked there, though.

"Cool." She gave a little smile. She definitely wouldn't fit in here. The people here were all into Mariah Carey and Madonna and getting expensive cars for their birthdays. This girl - he suddenly realized he didn't know her name - wouldn't fit with that crowd, he could tell from the moment he met her.

"I'm Tate. Pretty bitching that you're down with people dying in your house." He offered by way of getting her name.

"It was theirs before it was mine, so whatever. I'm Violet. Are all the teachers this shitty? They act like I didn't learn anything in Boston." She questioned, slapping her textbook shut.

"Not all of them. Most of them grew up in Cali though, and they think they're just the shit, like everyone else here. Who do you have the rest of the day?" She pulled out another folded piece of paper and opened it up, sliding it across the table to him. Her hands dug into her backpack as he inspected the schedule. They had two classes together, not including lunch. He tried not to get his hopes up. Sure, she was cool so far, but that didn't mean she'd stay that way, or that she'd want to hang out in the library at lunch.

"Well, Lindon's kind of a dick sometimes, so it's possible you'll be in here again for French. But Mrs. Klein's pretty cool and we just started reading The Odyssey, so you'll be fine in English. And forget about Hare - if you're not in a sport, he won't even notice if you participate or not, as long as you're there for roll. We've got English and Gym together." He said, sliding back the paper. She was pulling a Game Boy out of her bag and smiled at him as she flicked it on.

"Cool. I just finished reading The Odyssey in Boston. So, can I expect to sit in the bleachers with you for Gym? Do you guys do that here?" She questioned, her eyes on the screen as the sounds of Tetris started. He winced a little.

"Yeah, they do that here." No use beating around the bush, he guessed. "But I'm in track, so..." She hummed in response, nodding without looking up from her game. They faded into mutual silence, and he picked up his poetry again, reading to the sound of her whooping Tetris' ass.

The lunch bell caught him off guard when it rang. He looked up to find that Violet had put the game away and was reading something. She looked up at him.

"Are there camera's in here?" She suddenly asked. 'What?' He stared at her blankly for what felt like forever while he processed the question.

"No." He finally said, and it felt highly inadequate. Why the hell did she want to know?

"Cool. Got a light?" She pulled out a cigarette from a pocket in her bag. He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity before unfolding his legs and popping open the window that was next to them. He fished out a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette for her. Wasting no time, she took a deep drag off of it and held it for a few seconds before sighing it out blissfully. She ran a hand through her hair as she watched the smoke float over to the window, where it was sucked out with the light breeze. He stuffed the lighter back in his pocket and sat back down. He was just reaching for his book again when she held out the fag to him.

"You straight edge or something?" She questioned when he only stared at it. He rolled his eyes and took it from her, sucking in a few short breaths. He handed it back to her and blew the smoke toward the window. He wasn't straight edge, but he didn't do drugs that often - he didn't have any money. He watched her blow circles until the stick was gone, then tossed it out a hole in the window screen.

"No lunch to go with that nicotine?" He questioned as he sat back down. She shook her head as she dug through the same pocket in her bag. She produced a water and some label-less blue spray bottle. He realized it was perfume as she spritzed herself before tossing it back in. A surprisingly girly smell wafted over to him as the smoke scent went out the window.

"Not hungry." She replied before taking a swig from the water bottle and tossing it back in the bag, too. He nodded.

"Just as well. You'd think since they have so much money, the school would have decent lunches, but it's all swill." He advised. Her only reply was a chuckle before she went back to reading, and he did the same. He started packing up for the bell soon enough and she followed suit.

"So, where's the French room?" She questioned him as she checked out the textbook. He smiled at her somewhat involuntarily and held the library door open for her. She passed him into the crowded hallway.

"I'll show you, it's on my way to Math." He said, shouldering his way through the crowds of people who always had to gather in the damn halls. He turned a corner into a less congested hall and stopped at the door to Lindon's room, all the way at the end.

"English is right up the stairs." He advised before heading into the aforementioned stairwell.

Math was boring. That was nothing new though; he'd never been in an interesting math class. He paired up with Harper, a guy from track, for a class project and proceeded to spend the hour passively paying attention. For the first time, he was distracted by something other than fantasies of shooting up the place.

Violet. He wondered how French was going. He wondered if she really wanted to learn French, or if it was just to fill her foreign language requirement. He wondered what her favorite Nirvana song was. He wondered if she'd had friends back in Boston. He wondered so much about her, in fact, that he was surprised - again - when the bell rang. He shoved his textbook and folder into his bag, bringing out The Odyssey.

Tate was usually the first person to English because he was just down the hall. Normally, he had about three minutes to get settled before anyone else came in - they all liked to cut it as close to the bell as they could. Today, though, he heard voices as he approached the open door.

"...takes longer for new students to find the class." Mrs. Klein's friendly voice wafted into the hall.

"Tate told me where it was. I have French right before this." Violet's voice replied.

"Tate? How kind of him. He doesn't usually talk to new people, a bit antisocial. Extra credit, I think." Mrs. Klein seemed surprised. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks a little. He didn't need extra credit for speaking to someone. He wasn't about to complain, though.

The conversation ended as he strode through the doorway. Mrs. Klein smiled pleasantly at him and he made his way to the back of the room. There was a pause as he settled down and he looked up to see Violet standing somewhat awkwardly at the front of the room, fingering her backpack strap.

"Where do I sit?" She finally asked, outwardly showing no signs of discomfort. Mrs. Klein looked up and smiled at her.

"Oh, wherever you want. They aren't assigned." Violet nodded and made her way back to the desk next to him. She pulled out a notebook and pencil before shoving her backpack under the seat and flopping down into it. He noticed a bruise on her jaw when she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and he didn't think it'd been there before. He glanced forward and saw that Mrs. Klein was busy writing on the board before turning to Violet.

"Hey. What happened?" He gestured to his jaw. She rolled her eyes.

"Some bitch in the hallway. I looked at her wrong or something. Doesn't matter." People started filling into the classroom after that, and she was quiet.

English went by much quicker than Math had. Most of the questions were bland things, nothing much deeper than who went where and why did they go there. Most of the students who answered earned muted scoffs from Violet, though she never once raised her hand. She didn't even open her notebook. He assumed she must own the book, because she didn't ask for one. She fiddled with the sleeve of her cardigan until the class dissolved into raucous laughter and annoying voices retelling the latest gossip. They packed up their things when the bell rang and headed to the Gymnasium together. Violet finally spoke as they were nearing the doors.

"So, do I have to change for this or something?" She questioned. He looked over at her, slightly shocked at the end of the silence.

"Only if you have your own clothes. You're not allowed to participate without them, so you're off the hook for today anyways." They shuffled through the open doors and he edged away from her.

"Girls' locker room, guys' locker room," he pointed to the respective doors, "and y'know, just sit and chill." He gave a little smile and turned to walk away before he embarrassed himself.

When he returned from the locker room, feeling awkward in his running shorts and t-shirt, he started running his laps. Mr. Hare was standing next to Violet, who was sitting all the way at the top of the bleachers. He thought he saw her eyes dart to him as the Gym teacher headed back down to the floor, but he turned his head away too fast to be sure.

He ran laps the whole hour, gradually picking up speed. He was thankful for Mr. Hare's passivity - everyone did what they wanted in Gym. Thankfully, no one ever approached him, as running wasn't the most social sport. He did have the strange feeling that he was being watched, but he shrugged it off. Hare blew the whistle to stop and change and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he slowed way down. He was so out of it today. He shook his head and went off to strip out of the sweaty Gym clothes.

Clothed once again in his jeans and black shirt, he headed out to join Violet in the bleachers. Immediately as he entered the Gym, he noticed the three jocks standing on the floor below Violet. They were laughing boisterously and jostling each other around. Brickerman, the obvious leader of the group, was smirking cockily. Tate felt his lips twitch into a sneer.

"So pretty thing, why don't you join us? I'm sure we could make it worth your while." The beefy football player called suggestively up to Violet, who, to her credit, seemed to be doing an impressive job of ignoring the crude suggestions. Tate could feel the irritation swelling in him as he drew closer to them. Violet's eyes met his as he pulled up to the bottom of the bleachers about a foot away from Brickerman and his lackeys. She shrugged into her backpack and stomped down the stairs wordlessly, circling around the boys, who stood watching her dumbly. He smirked at their surprise that any girl wouldn't be interested in them and followed after her.

The bell signaling the end of the day rang as she forced the door open and headed for the freedom that the doors at the end of the hall offered. Suddenly, he wondered how she'd gotten to school. She seemed too small to drive, if he was being perfectly honest. She looked like she was fourteen.

"Did you walk?" She glanced at him and only nodded.

"I can drop you off, if you want. You're on my way home anyway." He offered. If there was one thing he'd learned from his mother - through years of abuse more than anything - it was to be courteous. He'd never felt the need to before, and he didn't know what was different now, but he decided that there'd be time to think about that later. Violet was giving him a considering look.

"Thanks." She said as they exited the front doors and made their way down the stairs in the California sun. He gestured to the left of the parking lot, where he always parked. She followed him to the car, which had certainly seen better days. It got him where he needed to go without being around his mother any longer than necessary though, so he was glad for it. He took out his keys as they pulled up to it. He looked across the top at her.

"You're gonna have to jiggle the handle." He said as he pushed his own door in with his hip and pulled the handle. It popped open as he slipped in, tossing his bag into the wide backseat as Violet finally popped her own door open with a snort. He couldn't tell if she was laughing at him or just found the situation amusing, so he slammed his door shut and started the car up.

"Why is it already in first gear?" She questioned as she tugged her seatbelt, trying to get enough of it out to wrap around her.

"Parking break's broken." He said as he cast a quick glance behind him and shifted into reverse before letting off the clutch and swinging out of the parking spot. They headed away from the school and down the streets leading to her house at a much higher speed than was marked, following some deft moves of his hands and feet. He rolled into her driveway in no time.

"Thank God dad's got a patient." She nodded to the car in the driveway. "He'd probably have a heart attack if he saw that driving." She gave him a smile that told him without a doubt that she was joking and unlatched her seatbelt.

"I can pick you up tomorrow, if you want." He offered. He really didn't know why he was being so damn nice, but she smiled nonetheless.

"Sure. What time?" She questioned.

"7:30 good?" He returned and she nodded, slamming the door shut. She mouthed a 'thanks' before turning to head up to the house. He took a moment to stare up at the huge relic before rolling out the drive and heading home, pondering just what it was about Violet that made him want to be so nice and helpful. He spent the entire night baffled by it.

AN: Good lord. I can't believe I'm actually writing something partially from Tate's point of view. I don't think I've captured it quite yet, but hopefully it'll get better as I go. The car was actually based off my own car, for all of you who don't care. It so broken, with its windows that don't roll down and funky doors and useless parking brake, but I just love it so. Sorry to everyone that has no clue how a manual works, but I just felt like it was right for Tate.

Next chapter is Violet's POV, and we'll get to see just what she thinks of Tate. YAY! Remember to click the little button to review!