I do not understand these new range of emotions that invade my senses, like a rush of water. The feelings scrape at me. I am running through a dense forest, the thorns and briers of emotion tearing at me, ripping me to shreds. And when I stop, exhausted, my breath gone, the stinging in my chest, I see your face.
And then my heart beats faster, and I wonder why I haven't noticed it before. I've spent half of my life despising you, wishing you didn't exist. And now, I can't wait to be near you.
And I know its awful, dirty, disgusting. Every time you walk into the room, I wish I could leave, I wish I could hide, crawl into a hole, and die, so that I won't have to face you. But I can't help but want to stay, want to look at you, want to admire your features.
Dan stared at Ian, his feelings a melting pot. Ian's back was ramrod straight, and his head was held high. He looked a distinguished businessman, which he was, and Dan looked down at his Ninja T-shirt and felt quite ashamed.
And he couldn't help but wonder why Ian always looked so perfect, and he always looked so...so...Dan. It was pitiful, yet he knew if he tried to look like Ian, everyone would know, and he would utterly fail, which would be incredibly embarrassing.
Ian was adjusting the fancy watch on his wrist. Dan looked down at his fitbit, and felt generally confused. How did Ian manage to pull such awesome styles off? Dan knew that if he was wearing a watch like that, he would probably forget he was wearing it, and go swimming or something stupid like that.
Dan ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair, and wished that he hadn't chosen such a punk style.
Standing up, Dan straightened his jeans and walked to the kitchen. Nothing like a snack to cheer yourself up.
I do not understand these new range of emotions that invade my senses, like a rush of water. My emotions claw at me, chew at me, gnaw on my very bones. And as they stop, my blood running away in a red river of passion, I see your face.
And my heart beat picks up, a staccato rhythm that makes my breath catch in my throat. Your eyes are so very green, such a vivid color that remains in my head, my brain processing every distinct mark that makes you you.
Every time you walk into a room, I want to be near you. I want to speak to you, make you laugh, watch your jade eyes glint in the light.
But I know you could never feel the same way about me. So I hide, I ignore you. I insult you, even though every word tears at my heart like a knife. I flirt with Amy and Sinead, trying to appease the ache in my chest.
Ian watched Dan leave, and resisted the urge, a very strong urge, to run after Dan. He turned to Amy and began flirting madly with her, causing Jake to glare at him with the eyes of leopard ready to kill.
And then he saw Sinead walk out of the room towards the kitchen.
Turning to Jake, he said, "Cha, dear friend, must run collect my feast." He winked knowingly, and both Amy and Jake blushed as he hurried out of the room, following Sinead to the kitchen.
Dan was standing there, shoving his face, and when he saw Ian, he swallowed hard, wiped the back of his mouth with his sleeve, and then gulped a glass of water loudly.
"Must you eat like a hog?" Ian asked, glaring at Dan as he daintily sipped a glass of water.
"Where's Amy?" Dan questioned, ignoring Ian's accusation.
Ian rolled his eyes. "How should I know? She's dating that Jake fellow, and he won't let me near her. And, its never polite to flirt with someone else's girlfriend."
Dan choked on the mouthful of water. Swallowing quickly, he turned his face so that he was staring right into Ian's eyes. Ian nearly gasped from the vivid green hue that was looking right into his eyes. Dan was speaking, and Ian forced himself to listen to Dan's words. "Right. That's why you were flirting madly with her just a few seconds ago."
"I was not flirting madly with anyone!" Ian retorted.
Dan smiled. "Right. Whatever you say." Grabbing a huge handful of pretzels, he stalked out of the kitchen muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Amy and Ian, sitting in a tree..."
Ian rolled his eyes. The nerve of that immature, nasty, hot jerk astounded him. And aroused him.
I can't believe I was such a jerk.
I can't believe I destroyed a chance.
A chance to actually talk to him, laugh with him...have a decent conversation with him.
And I, Dan Cahill, as usual, fucked everything up.
Dan watched Ian leave, a weird ache in his chest. Why did he even care? He shouldn't care, but he knew he did. And it bugged him, a lot, to know that he cared for Ian Kabra, of all people.
It was annoying, this thing called emotion. Who had invented that anyways? For all Dan cared, he could live without. But then, when he thought about life without emotions, he realized how cruel and depressing it would be, and he was glad that emotions existed. Sometimes.
Now was one of those times when he wished he could control his emotions. Now was one of those times when he wanted to crawl under the couch, and cry, because his emotions were tearing at him, taking him down from the inside out.
He hated to think he was subject to feelings, emotions and all that junk. But he couldn't stop them. They just showed up. Usually in the form of a dark, handsome man named Ian Kabra.
Groaning, Dan realized his thoughts had turned to him. Again.
Dan frowned as he walked out of the kitchen, his socked feet silent on the hard floor. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Turning it on, he frowned when he saw who it was. This was the only person Dan would admit his feelings to, and this was the only person who would reply with such a hasty message. He was just about to type back a reply, but paused. "What did one say after having confessed something like this?"
And then he smacked into Ian. His chest his Ian's with a solid thump and Dan turned a bright red color. He was opening his mouth to apologize when Ian spoke.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Ian asked, looking slightly annoyed.
Dan rolled his eyes. "If this is a pleasure, I don't want to know what pain is."
Ian frowned, seeming at loss of words. "Well, why don't you look where you're going instead of looking at your phone. Who is it anyways that makes you so careless?"
And before Dan had a chance to protest, Ian was holding the phone, and reading his message. Ian's face went pale and Dan cringed, trying to shrink into the floor.
There was a long moment, and then Ian looked up. There was an odd expression on his face, and he handed the phone back to Dan, choked out something that Dan didn't understand and hurried away.
I've always wanted this to happen, yet now, when it does, I don't understand why I feel like this.
Why does my heart ache so when it should be rejoicing? Why do I know think of all my errors and faults? Why do I think that I might hurt you? Why do I think that you might hurt me?
Why do I shy away from these feeling because one of us might get hurt?
Dan's message played over and over in Ian's head. He had been texting Atticus.
Is it wrong to like a guy?
No...
You don't sound sure.
I am sure. But...who is it?
Ian. And I don't know why. I don't understand.
Ian's mind whirled on the last three words, I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand.
"Well, Dan." He muttered to himself. "I don't understand either.
He looked down at his watch. The hands blurred before his eyes.
He wasn't seeing his watch face anymore. He was seeing Dan's...when he had found out that Amy had left them to find one ingredient of the antidote by herself.
He remembered how his face was torn, and how tears ran freely down his cheeks, and how he had punched his fist into the wall, declaring, "I don't care what anyone thinks, but I love her. And she isn't coming back."
Ian didn't want to cause Dan any grief. The look on Dan's torn face had haunted Ian a lot more than he cared to realize.
He remembered the look on Dan's face when...Natalie...
Ian stopped the thought right where it had begun.
Natalie was something he preferred not to talk about, think about, or dwell upon. Her pictures had been torn down from the walls, because Ian couldn't bear to look at her face, see her smile, when all it made him think about was how pale she looked, lying on the floor, her small, worn body so still.
He shuddered, and jumped with a start when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Amy.
"Ian." Her voice was low, soothing. "Are you ok? You've been standing here staring at the wall for half an hour."
Ian looked at her, looked at her eyes which were so similar to Dan's. "I have?" His voice was low, thick with bottled tears.
Amy nodded. "You have. Now come on. Let's go do something with everyone else...before Jake kills me."
He saw my true feelings. The look on his face . . . the utter horror. The disgust.
The way he looked at me, and handed back the phone.
I'm a fool to ever dream. To ever imagine. To ever hope.
Dan stared at where he had last seen Ian. To think that Ian had seen his thoughts, his messages to Atticus, which he hadn't imagined anyone ever seeing. Ever.
And now Ian knew.
He wouldn't have minded if he'd been talking about someone Ian didn't know. But it was about Ian, and god, of all the people who could have seen it, it just had to be Ian.
Why was his life always like this? Maybe it was because he was a Cahill, and nothing ever went right for a Cahill. Ever. He had never heard stories of any Cahill anywhere living a happy life. All he'd heard about was death, destruction, and utter misery.
Misery was about right. Dan couldn't recall a time when he'd ever been so miserable. The walls seemed to press in, and to say, "You're a fool. You're an idiot." Dan didn't know if he could ever look Ian in the eye again.
Before, when his . . . . feelings had be secret, he could talk/argue/scream at/ and stare at Ian's beautiful face. But now Ian probably wouldn't even say a word to him. The only thing Ian would be feeling for him would be utter hatred, and disgust.
He stared at the wall, the dark color strangely reminding him of Ian's eyes. Why did everything remind him of Ian? His phone buzzed. Atticus.
Dan pulled it out of his pocket, and gasped at the message.
Ian? I knew that. As does everyone. Except you and Ian.
Dan paused. What the heck was that supposed to mean?
Sighing, he placed his finger on the screen and typed, Wtf does that mean?
Atticus's response was immediate. I mean that everyone knows you like Ian. Except Ian.
Dan groaned. Yeah, well know he knows, cuz he took my phone and read my messages to you.
The response made Dan's whole heart skip several beats.
Tell him. Tell him. Tell him. You're older than he is. It won't hurt you to let him know how you really feel. He thinks you hate him. He thinks you're disgusted. You saw the look on his face, Ian. Just do it!
But I'm scared. Get it together Ian! For god's sake, you're a Lucian. Lucians aren't afraid of anything . . . . except Madrigals. Really hot Madrigals.
Amy led Ian away, back to the life of the party. Nellie was laughing loudly, and licking her fingers. Ian had to roll his eyes. Didn't someone teach these Americans manners?
The nerve of these stupid Americans bugged him. The only reason he was here was because . . . . was because he liked Nellie's food, Ian told himself. Yes, that's it. You like her food.
Shutting his eyes, he tried to rid his mind of the image of Dan, his face beet red, as Ian had read his messages.
Maybe he should just tell the boy. Get it over with. Besides, what did he have to lose? The boy already liked him, unless he was lying to his best friend, which was hardly likely.
Turning around, he stalked away, ready to confess to Dan, despite Amy's protests. "Why are you leaving? You just came in here?"
Ian shot Amy a glare, and she shut up. For once in the little twerp's life, she didn't try to stop him. For once.
I can't believe it. Maybe's he's lying. Yes, that's it. He's lying. He just wants me to feel better. I'm a fool for ever believing it for one second. Maybe if I went and swam in ice water my head would be better.
I don't understand. I feel as if I'm trapped under ice, yet instead of being alert, I feel groggy. I don't know what to do.
Dan's heart was still beating a million miles an hour. Atticus' message had surprised him, scared him, and sent an all-to-familiar feeling to his loins.
He LIKES you, you idiot! How could you not see it? EVERYONE knows it, except you two!
And then Dan heard footsteps. He whirled around to see Ian standing there, in his Armani suit, his hair rumpled, and was that . . . . sweat? On his forehead?
Ian Kabra must be very distressed if there was actually a bead of sweat on his gorgeous forehead.
Ian looked at Dan right in the jade eye, and said, "I'm sorry for taking your phone. I shouldn't have done that."
"That's right, Kabra." Dan snapped.
"But . . . . I, uh, I . . . . I wanted to ask if you liked pretzels, and that's why you eat them all the time."
Dan blinked. "You're sweating, and you're staring at me really weird. Why'd you just ask me if I wanted to eat pretzels?"
Ian gulped. "I don't know, I just did."
Dan frowned. "Since you like reading my messages so much, I want you to read all of these, and then tell me what you think." Before he knew what he was doing, Dan had shoved his phone into Ian's wary hand, and stalked off.
The nerve of that jerk. Pretzels? Really? And then Dan realized what he'd done. He'd left his phone, his LIFE, in possession of a snake.
Groaning, he fell against the wall, and sank down to the floor.
I'm an idiot. I should go jump off a cliff. Pretzels? Seriously? You're Ian Kabra. You're supposed to be suave, perfect, amazing. You're not supposed to stutter.
Colors are mixing together, a muddy mess that I'm sinking into . . . This isn't a rainbow. This is a black-brown oozing goo that is pulling me down.
Red - embarrassment - is the primary color. Purple is next, followed by black. There are no bright colors in my life.
Thorns have snagged me. They are reeling me in, closer and closer to the poisonous vine of confusion.
I don't know what to do.
The clouds were red. The sun was a ball of angry fire in the sky. The color's on Dan's phone merged into a furious red that swam before his eyes.
Dan had given him his phone, his messages, and then stalked off. He'd read them all, more curious than anything else, and gotten the shock of his life.
They all knew. All of them. Atticus was the one who would be least likely to notice - being absorbed in all his theorems and scientific hypotheses - and even he had noticed.
His anger turned quickly into embarrassment. Shutting his eyes, he quickly sucked in air through his teeth, and walked towards Dan.
He had a confession to make.
Swallowing his fear, he stepped towards Dan, and looked out the window at the falling snow. The flakes drifted down slowly, like tears, and Ian shuddered and hurried on.
He found Dan huddled against a wall, his eyes closed. Clearing his throat, he summoned all of his willpower, and said, "Atticus was right."
That wasn't what he'd meant to say. Ian wanted to smack himself. He was such an idiot.
Dan looked up. "About what?" He questioned.
"Um . . . that . . . uh, that, that," Why was he stuttering? He could give speeches in front of the entire Lucian branch, for god's sake, yet he couldn't tell someone of his feelings? "That I like you." He lamely finished.
Dan stared up at him. "Oh."
Ian felt like an idiot. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. At all. Groaning internally, he leaned against the wall and, trying to make up for his previous failure, said, "I should have told you earlier. I guess there's really no reason why I shouldn't have told you, but I was . . . stupid. I thought you'd think I was dirty or something."
Something flashed across Dan's jade eyes that Ian didn't recognize. "Really?" He answered. "I felt the same way. It's probably my fault too, because I should have told you also. Let's just say we both apologize, right?"
Ian nodded. "Yes, I'm very, very sorry."
Dan rolled his eyes. "Don't sound so sarcastic."
Ian snorted. "Me? Sarcastic? I think you're the one who needs to look at your life."
Dan squinted his eyes. "Now I'm trying to figure out if you're being sarcastic or not."
Ian shrugged. "You'll never know. And I won't tell you."
Dan hurriedly stood up. "Yes, you will! I'll make you!" He held his fist up into the air.
Ian frowned. "Your fist is puny, and you couldn't touch me."
Dan arched his eyebrows. "Really? How do you know?"
"You're shaking."
Dan looked up at his fist and saw that Ian was right. He turned a beautiful shade of red, and then slowly lowered his fist. " . . . You got me."
"I know. I always have." Ian smirked, then turned, and walked away.
He knew Dan would follow. Eventually.
Rounding the corner, he bumped into all of his family. Amy blushed, and ducked behind Jake, quickly pulling him away. The rest murmered something about hairbrushes and shaving cream. What the heck? Then it dawned on him, and he realized he was a fool to have just realized it. Atticus was right. They'd all known.
And they had been spying. Again.
I should kill them right now. Ian decided. But then he thought better of it. Due to . . . . happy circumstances . . . he'd let them live.
The sea is calm. The boat rocks gently on the waves. My heart is beating, and I am looking into your eyes. They are a tranquil color; a vibrant green that reminds me of a meadow on a sunny day.
Everything about you fascinates me. And now I have you.
You are mine, and I am yours.
The thorns have released me, the briers no longer snag my clothing. I am free.
For now.
Due to net neutrality, this un-betaed. I was going to have scrittore do it for me . . . but it was now or never.
Thanks to scrittore for her wasted time.
HAPPY EARLY/LATE birthday, Inagw. May your life be happy, and full of joyous moments unmarred by pain, and scar-free.
I'll miss all of you guys, and I'll always remember the time I got to spend with you.
Love you all!