Short, Ephram/Colin. Ephram wades himself out of 'de Nile.
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Music is his escape.
Hard, angry, thrashing; waves of pure fury channeled into sound. He falls back onto his bed, and loses himself in it, in the endless, sweeping, raging sea of music that shortens his breath and quickens his heart and sweeps him up, up, up until the music is all there is, just him and pure, savagely beautiful sound…
He listens so he doesn't have to think about him.
He thinks he's slowly being driven insane, dark eyes, dark hair, dark lips, dark everything always, always drifting ever-present in his mind. Dark Colin. Warm, hesitating eyes, fumbling uncertainty, deceiving-quiet-knife-like edge. His Colin. He knows he can safely claim ownership and this pleases him, a flush of heated pride blooming in his chest. Ephram alone knows the shadows that lurk behind Bright Colin's (hah, no pun intended) mask, and… loves them.
He listens to push him away.
He's afraid of him, afraid of lurking Dark Colin, afraid of the spells he weaves with a single warm smile. He shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't have to remind himself to stop staring when they're together, shouldn't wonder about what it would be like to tangle his fingers into that silky thick fall of dark, dark hair…
He grits his teeth, scrunches his eyes shut, presses his headphones deeper into his ears. Colin's even invading his music, now… with this thought, something twists painfully in his chest.
Is this some sort of divine retribution for past sins or something? He can't quite remember any past sins that would merit this kind of torture, but what else can have brought this… this whatever it is on? Even the mere idea of it is irrational, insane… hopeless.
Metallica floods on through his headphones.
Until, that is, someone plucks them from his ears…
With a yelp of alarm, he jerks upright, the dark sea suddenly reduced to sullenly murmuring static dangling somewhere above his head. He blinks, confused, at the dangling earpieces, follows the cord up, up, to a hand…
His throat is dry. He forces a smile. "Hey, Colin." His voice is cracking.
Colin's amused, and mask-less, now… The Colin he had left earlier that day at school and given him a stiff, off-handed goodbye, tossed rigidly over his shoulder like scraps of leftovers for a family pet. Goodbye, Bright Colin. I'll be seeing your alter ego in a couple hours.
And now here he is, 'in a couple hours' surging into 'now,' and he's himself again- dark, warm, loose. Ephram's enthralled.
"You'll go deaf if you keep this up, you know," he chides gently, a teasing smile edging on the sides of his mouth, waving the still softly screaming earpieces in front of his face.
"Thanks, mom," he responds dryly, thankfully sinking back into his skin and regaining control of himself. He snatches back the headphones, not too sharply, and shuts off the CD player. He quirks his eyebrow as he slides, sock-clad over the wooden floor, and reaches to regain his balance when he gets to his desk. Bending to fish for his math books, he says, just a little bitterly, "I hope I'm not disturbing any of your quality time with Amy."
This is a lie. Ephram hopes no such thing.
Colin doesn't seem to notice, though, just smiles and shrugs, tossing out a casual 'nah.' Ephram blinks as he notices the other boy's eyes flit suddenly down and up again, face flushing oddly. He looks down himself, and blood floods into his cheeks- his shirt is riding up.
He straightens sharply, nearly drops his books, nearly trips. Ducking his head, he slides back to the bed where Colin is seated. For once, Ephram doesn't seem to have a witty remark poised at the ready, so he merely deposits the books on the bed, questioning (a bit shakily), "So… um… which chapter did you want to go over again?"
Colin's staring at his hands as if they're about to divulge the meaning of life. "Eleven," he murmurs indistinctly, "You know- Fibonacci, etc."
Ephram makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. He hates math. Passionately. But still, he figures he'll be more help to Colin than Bright or Amy… Bright would just act like a Neanderthal and Amy would switch the subject to Makeout Session 101. He sighs, a now familiar dull ache building in his chest as he flips through the book.
Colin grabs his wrist.
Ephram's surprised- Colin looks almost desperate, pleading with dark, dark eyes, wide and encompassing and he thinks he's drowning but no, wait, Colin's saying something…
"Ephram," he croaks, and his name sounds… sacred, almost, when he says it. "I…"
He's flustered now. He tries not to touch Colin when they're together, because when he does he gets like this and he can't think, he can't think, and what's going on? Please, please don't touch me, I'll…
Colin seems to be choking on his words. A flush creeps over his normally pale cheeks, and right now he's just too pretty to be a boy, all flustered and wide-eyed and shaking. Ephram doesn't trust himself to speak, so he waits.
Colin makes an odd noise in the back of his throat, and that's the only warning he gets. The next thing he knows, there's a dismayed screech of springs and Ephram's pinned between basketball-toughened-sinewy arms and dark eyes and warm breath are centimeters away and he doesn't trust himself to breathe because if he moves the illusion might break and everything will vanish and he'll find he's just dreaming again but
Lips. Soft, soft, softsoft velvet and warm and Colin. He feels heat flush up through his chest, spread through him- comfortable, terrifying heat. He's giddy. Colin Colin ColinColinColin don't pull away no don't I need you
He tugs insistently at his arms and Colin melts back into him, a relieved whimper of breath rushing over his mouth before he's claimed again and Colin tastes like chocolate and roses and Metallica.
Ephram's in love.
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^_^ I had fun writing that. Please r/r and tell me what you think.