A/N: Hello, people. And welcome to an album of oneshots containing MaRa, TaMax, or just simply Max/Tara. Feel free to write reviews (but please not flames), even criticism if you would like. I really want to enhance my literary skills since I've been slacking off again. I don't even think this first chapter is . . . well, good. But, anyway, I hope you would still enjoy. I promise I'd do better next time, and not . . . complicated like this. Another side note, I'm sorry about not updating Incomplete Drawing but I've got myself a pretty good writer's block. I might update next week when all's not so busy, but I'm not promising. More notes down.
Hope you enjoy. :)
His Dark Empress, Part I
"Empress"
By FrozenCreatures
"Would you dare to love me?" - Shan Sa, 'Empress'
She was beautiful, dark . . . enchanting. Everything he wanted to be, everything he wanted her to be. Alluring in the most mysterious of ways, attractive unlike any other girl he has met and had a crush on, and, most importantly, a heart of rebelliousness. He wondered how she could be so natural at this, how she could retort to other people without stuttering, how she could fight older, stronger men without even flinching, how she could make even Godzilla cower in fear from her glare.
She was awesome.
She could make any boy stop and stare, could make any girl jealous, but he knew it wasn't on purpose. It never was. Sure, she would start a fight for whatever purpose she deemed fit, and sure, she would snort and burp in a manner only boys do so just she can get into her parents' nerves. But, things that would only make her a - a woman, even for a small while? No, she didn't mean to do those things. To walk with her hips swaying, to clothe in skirts, leggings, boots, sleeveless shirts - even if it was in her favorite dark color? No, she didn't. These - and many other things he noticed about her - came only natural to her just like her mischievous and rebellious nature; not forced nor were they fake, it was just her.
And only her.
There wasn't a time in the world where he wouldn't think about being with her, watching her, talking to her, laughing with her - anything that makes them close. It was strange having feelings such as these, feelings he knew all too well yet not quite fond of - after all, he was usually the player, not the person hurt. Well, there were times, but they were swift to fade, just like the pain after a hard tug of a bandage. But those moments he shared with her - those oh so momentous moments - they were like the slow dragging of a knife against skin, pleasurable yet still painful. It haunted him day and night, almost like the scars of self-cutting though without blood, leaving him restless, drowning in both misery and joy.
But, nevertheless, it was exhilarating to be with her. He cherished every moment that he was with her, memorized every word she said to him, and mentally took down her behaviors and small mannerisms. Go ahead, call him creepy, but there was something that attracted him to her, like a moth to a flame, and he knew, right then, as he looked at those grey eyes of hers, what it was.
She was lonely, just like him.
Actually, he started to know about her loneliness a week ago, when he had entered the library, only to see her there reading a book, her eyes glued on it. Alone. With tears on her eyes. And a big red hand print on the side of her face. He walked away, never once returning to the accursed library. He hadn't looked for her after, afraid that she would lash out on him. So he avoided her, even almost to an extent of not going to school, because, he knew she saw him at that time.
It was only further confirmed that he was right. Her grey eyes were cold and yet its glare was smoldering, keeping him frozen in his place. Her hands clenched on the collar of his shirt, her knuckles white and trembling. Her lips were in a deep frown, chapped and obviously bruised; he wondered if she bit them out of frustration or of contemplation. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, avoiding her gaze.
'Hey, T,' he weakly greeted.
'Don't "hey, T" me,' she snapped, her clutch tightening even more. 'You've got a lot of nerve not coming to school, Thunderman.' Her glare faltered slightly but was back again before he even noticed. Her voice was high yet not annoying, the type of voice that could be great at singing.
He raised his hands in defense, ignoring how her breath landed on his collarbone, warm and all. 'Hey, I've had a flu. I don't want to infect anyone,' he lied. He wasn't a good liar, he knows, but it was worth a shot. Her eyes narrowed a bit more before it dulled. Oh yeah, first rule he learned: never lie to her.
'Oh, sure, a flu,' she said monotonously, her hands loose yet still holding the part of his shirt. 'What, I daresay, caused you to have such kind of disease, oh good sir?' He wanted her to stop talking in her classy demeanor - her speaking automatic was one thing, but this . . this was a whole new level of frustration and anger he feared crossing.
Unfortunately, he just had. She usually just used this tone and words to mock her parents, but it seems that she also used this as a warning.
'Was it because of the rain last Monday? Or was it from the stress you got from the big test yesterday?' she sneered. He flinched. Then her eyes widened, and her lips slightly parted mockingly. 'Oh, wait a minute. I know now. It wasn't a flu, isn't it?' Her laugh was bitter, like the black coffee she would order in their occasional small tours around the city of Hiddensville. 'It was disgust. Disgust of what? Disgust of seeing me cry? Disgust of seeing me read? What, Max? What?!'
The bell had rung mid-sentence, and he was glad that there was no one but them there. Her voice echoed faintly, bouncing off of the walls, attacking him with every sound it made. Her voice wasn't at all the loudest, but he thanked the school for having an old version of soundproof walls when she all but shouted. He looked at her, and was surprised by the amount of emotions she openly showed. Pain. Anger. Frustration. Hurt.
He put a hand on top of hers, and she stiffened, before she swatted his hand away, her hands now falling down to her sides. Her eyes lost their glare, and her voice lost their cruelness when she spoke again. 'Was it really that humiliating that you avoided me?'
Max concluded that he didn't like seeing her like this. At all. She was supposed to be strong and fearless, not unsure and scared. This scared him a little, until he found a dark purplish mark on the side of her neck. It was small, faint, but it was noticeable, even under the collar of her jacket that tried in vain to hide it. He raised a hand to touch it, and it felt cold against his skin. 'What happened?'
At that question, Tara's usual flare finally made way to her eyes, and she defiantly tilted her head up, a smirk subconsciously making its way to her lips. 'None of your business, Thunderman. You still have a question to answer,' she said. She held his hand but did nothing to remove it. She was looking at him intently, her grey eyes searching his face for any signs of mischief. But as it is, like any other time she looked, she found nothing. Just . . . Worry.
And . . .
Her eyes narrowed, but it was not a glare. It was only irritation, as it was also sudden realization. She growled. 'Max, please tell me it's not true.' Her voice held warning, devoid of anything but that. He couldn't be serious! She knew of his feelings but she hadn't thought about it really. 'Please don't tell me you like me too.'
Shoot! His eyes frantically scanned the room for any possible escape, but the weight of her gaze was strong. Max's heart pounded strong against his ribs that he swore he could hear it. A lie was forming on the tip of his tongue, but he stood there silent. When he did speak, his voice was tight and dry, reluctant. 'S - Sorry.'
She frowned. 'You're not denying?'
Max coughed rather nervously, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. 'Why should I?'
She groaned angrily, the sound so fierce. 'I don't need your feelings - heck, I don't need anyone's feelings. Why is that so hard to understand?!' She asked, flailing her hands in the air. Then she looked at him, and pointed at him with a finger threateningly. 'Please, please, tell me you do not like me.'
It wasn't by the stance nor the look in her eyes that made her angry; it was her string of words, stabbing him in the most painful of ways. He glared at her before grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. 'Are you out of your mind?!' he all but shouted, his hazel eyes looking at her stone-cold ones. But when her glare didn't falter, he bit his tongue in frustration as he released her. 'Fine. I don't like you. And I would never again like you.' He took a breath. 'But don't think that I wouldn't stop worrying about you.'
She took a step forward, almost leaning that any more and their chests would have touched. But then she yielded, her eyes snapping to their normal size. Surprise filtered her veins and she was momentarily loss at words. He just . . .
'Wait,' her voice said softly, just before he could move towards the school's exit. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew that he would find her revolting to ask it just after they fought. But, ultimately, she knew she was, at that time, twisted, like her parents. A thought that she finds quite disturbing yet not unfamiliar.
He glanced at her, his expression still angry. Tara hesitated, before shaking the feeling away. 'Do you . . .' she paused, feeling the fluttering feeling inside her stomach. She coughed. 'Do you really like me?' The question was a redundant; no, a redundant of a redundant. It was a habit of hers whenever she wanted a direct confirmation or wanted to make a point. She just wanted to confirm. Really.
He was frozen still then, expression hard to decipher. His clenched fist has slackened, falling to his side limply. Then, all of a sudden, he turned around to face her, his lips curved in a sad smile. Tara wanted to frown, she really did, but the smile he wore didn't suit him. His relaxed smile and contagious laughter was better. Far more better.
'You know, I would've been shocked if you weren't the one asking,' he said, almost teasing, but still so weary. The Campbelle didn't feel offended, not even the slightest, but she knew better than to change the topic and press on his answer quickly. After a pause - he had thought she would intervene - he added, 'Then again, you aren't anyone else but you.'
She blinked, confused, but shook her head, strands of ginger hair falling down between her eyes. She tucked it unconsciously behind an ear, then sighed. 'Max,' she whispered, almost whining, a smile gracing her features. She stopped speaking, and placed a hand on her left temple, feeling a shot of pain course through her head. Okay, fine, maybe she could press on the matter. 'Please.'
He chuckled at her, the sorrow, uncertainty and embarrassment obvious in his voice. 'You know, I've never been the kind of guy with a lot of vocabulary or knows a lot about history and math. But if I would take studying a bit more seriously, I might just be able to get into any university,' there was something in his voice when he said the word "university" that made her wonder curiously, but before she could ask, he continued, 'Heck, I could even be a very well-known supe - I mean, a very well-known professor if I wanted to.'
. . .
'But you,' he paused, then chuckled again. 'You're really such a complicated subject . . .' Max looked at her, his brown eyes shimmering, although only slightly. Tara felt a knot twist in her throat. 'I love you, y'know. Always have and will continue to.'
Those were the words that broke her, over and over again. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Always have and will continue to.
He had just voiced his feelings to her, loud and clear. But it was sad, crying almost. He smiled at her again, his lips quivering. 'Max,' Tara started. 'I . . .'
What was she supposed to say now? That she was sorry - sorry that cannot she cannot reciprocate his feelings? Or would she just turn her heel and leave him there, acting like nothing happened? Those were her two instinctual responses to confessions she received from teenage boys.
Then again, Max wasn't just a teenage boy. No, he was just Max.
She wasn't good with emotions, never had understood what love meant. But she knew when she was in love or just adored someone. She made a decision.
The Campbelle looked at the younger teen before her, her eyes boring into his. She had a sudden urge to nip on her lip again, but she knew that any more biting would cause it to bleed. Instead, she licked her lips, then drawled. 'Would you . . .' she paused, then sucked a breath through her teeth. 'Would you dare to love me . . . and let me learn to love you?'
The air stilled around them. The Thunderman twin looked at Tara in surprise, then it softened. 'If you would, then yes.' His voice was still held the same emotions as before, but there was something else. Hope. It cracked through his deflated voice like a bullet. Tara smiled a little.
She took a step forward and opened her mouth, but her words had yet to come when the bell rung. Tara scowled at the impending timing, but nevertheless accepted. She peered at the freshman, her lips pursed in interest. 'Max?'
The said male looked at her, then flashed a smile. He walked towards her, and closed their distance as he grasped her hand, his grip firm yet gentle. 'Any suggestion where we should go, my dark empress?' Then, they ran.
Sneak out school? Heh, why not? After all they already cut a class due to their talk. She tried hard to contain the jittery feeling inside her stomach once she remembered him calling her "my dark empress". She would ask him about the obvious endearment later, right now she would just let things go with the flow. She smirked and squeezed his hand, her strides long as it tried to match the quicker male. 'Any where's good.'
Would you dare to . . . let me learn to love you?
Her question plagued her thoughts and she seriously wanted him to answer her clearly. But, looking at his face light with his usual cheerfulness, she didn't need to ask. One look and she already knew.
He accepted her dares even moments before they officially met.
A/N: Yeah, I know, suckish attempt to do a oneshot. I'm deciding whether I should connect the shots to one another or just let them be. Anyway, also you could give me the theme for the next shots, if you'd like. And just like the note up, if you're confused just tell me. :) Bye, guys.