Okay. Well, the decision for a chapter and a prequel is split. So, what I'm gonna do is, I'm gonna write both. The prequel will be it's own story, and if you wanna read it, go right ahead. :) I'll just post it as the chapters come. But for the chapter, I'll have the most important things from the prequel. It's mentioned important things here and there, and it'll really get to mentioning them later.
Btw, if you think this is too fast, I'm sorry, but really, if you think about it, it's not. It'll explain more later, and it'll explain what all they went through when the Flock finds out their secret.
Who will be the first to discover it? :)
Anyways, so I'll be doing both. Thanks for reviewing! It means a lot, honest. I'm gonna post another chapter, so I won't demand reviews after this one. They'd be nice, but the next chapter is where things in their relationship REALLY seem rushed. It's like, "WHOA."
But, it's really not rushed. Actually, technically, things have been moving pretty damn slow in thier relationship.
So, yes. I'll stop rambling now and let you continue reading. If you wanna review, that would be great! But, like I said, I have both chapters, and I'm gonna put the other one up as soon as I finish typing this super long AN. T.T
Okay. Done...after I remember to mention this chapter is only a HINT of lemony. Not really anything bad at all. But, if you don't like lemons, I warned you in the summary, so if you don't like them, stop reading. I don't wanna hear about how "disgusting" I am, or anything like that. I told you.
03. Better Off This Way: A Day to Remember
*Trevor*
Fang was still up after everyone else got to bed. Tomorrow, we would move into my place, but tonight, he was sleeping on the couch and giving me his room.
No one even dared to go inside Max's room.
He was just sitting on the couch, staring out the window with his chin propped up on his hands. I could see the fear . . . the stress . . . the worry . . . it was all crashing down on him at once.
The Flock was now his responsibility. He was now in charge of taking care of them and protecting them.
I walked over and sat down by him. "You okay?"
"Fine," he replied quickly, blinking. "Thought everyone was asleep."
"They are," I said honestly. "Do you need a hug?"
"I need more than a hug," he groaned softly. "I need love."
My eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, we . . . do you mean . . . ?"
"No," he muttered. "Love as in someone to spend the rest of my life with. That's what I need right now."
"Love doesn't happen overnight," I said gently. "That's what you made the compound for, though, and we connected each other. Surely you knew we would meet up again one day. I mean, we still have to get to know each other all over again, but . . . I'm always a backup option, in case you don't find the prettier girl you probably want."
"No," he disagreed, eyes wide. "Ab—Trevor, you are the most beautiful person in my world. I don't even see beauty, not the kind most people do. I am connected to you. I do want to love you for the rest of eternity. I just don't know how I want to proceed."
"What do you m—?"
His lips on mine were enough to shut me up. More than enough. It was passionate. It was spontaneous. It was . . . amazing. The most wonderful kisses were the kind that you never expected, that happened just because they could.
Fang's hands began to wander as his tongue rubbed across my bottom lip. I let him in, just like I let his hand wander up the back of my shirt, right between the spot where my wings were. Somewhere in the kiss, I ended up in his lap.
He pulled away slowly, eyes fluttering a little as he looked up at me and smiled sheepishly. "That's what I mean, Trev."
I paused to let the emotions and hormones drain from my mind, only for a few brief moments, but they seemed like forever. I could hear the clock ticking, but between each second, it seemed like five. It was enough time to think about what I was about to do, decide if that was really what was best for the two of us and for the current situation.
And I was kissing him again after just three ticks.
When he kissed me, every care went away, and I was brought to putty in his grip. I couldn't do anything but kiss him back and think this is the thing I've been searching for my entire life. Kissing him was like standing on the edge of the world that was about to explode into nothing but outer space, and even still, the two of us would just be floating around the stars together.
Once again, he was the one to pull away. "We should take this somewhere else. My room?"
"No sex and you've got a deal," I murmured before sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him again.
I could feel his arms sliding down to my butt to hold me up, but he certainly wasn't complaining, especially when I smirked a little and kissed him deeper—tongue and all.
As much as I wanted to punch myself for admitting it, I enjoyed him fondling me like this. His hard, bulging crotch was pressed against my stomach, and I tried to ignore it as our tongues caressed in the cool of the night.
We got to his room as quickly as he could manage without dropping me or stopping the kiss, and once the door was shut, everything just got more intense—more intense than I realized was even humanly possible.
Somewhere along the way to his bed, we both lost our shirts and pants, and we probably would've lost more clothes if we had been moving faster in the clothing removal area. Kissing was our main objective, though. Our lips seemed to melt together, a perfect fit.
My fingers were tracing along the scars all over his chest when his lips parted from mine and began moving down my neck, all the way to my collar bone. I was breathing sharply and taking in every detail of his muscular, well-defined chest, every detail of his lips.
I could only imagine what structural damage he had inside of him, if he had so many physical scars, but as he kissed me, it didn't seem to matter.
It really didn't matter, even without the kiss. This boy had so much pain stored up inside, and now, his bottle has reached the limit, and he has to vent to someone, cry with someone. That was me, so I knew what was inside. I knew what kind of damage there was.
Yet here I was, laying in bed with him and holding onto him like there was no other way to survive.
His lips were on mine again. I could feel his hands moving up my back, but I couldn't use thoughts or words to stop him. My thoughts, heart, and desires told me not to stop him.
And I wouldn't have if Max hadn't shown up.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her nails with a coy smile. "You promised, Trevor."
I gasped suddenly and sat up, pulling away from Fang completely. "I-I—"
She giggled. "His kisses are easy to get lost in, I know. You know better than I do, though. Not again, Trev."
"What?" Fang asked quickly. "Besides the fact that we needed to stop there . . . technically before any clothes were removed, but especially there, since I already want to m—I really should stop thinking."
Max's eyebrows rose. "Don't you think he should know? It's only fair."
"Maybe," I murmured. "He might just think I'm crazy."
"Who are you talking to?" he demanded gently. "Trevor, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I answered truthfully. "You're gonna think I'm crazy, though. Crazier than someone who talks to herself."
"Try me," he challenged. "I'm sure I've seen crazier."
My lips quirked to the side. "Well . . . one of my abilities is I can sense and talk to the dead. If they died of natural causes, I don't see them. If they were murdered by someone other than me, I see them until I help them seek vengeance and kill their murderer."
His eyes widened slightly, not really in surprise but worry. "Are . . . ?"
I sighed as my shoulders slumped. "I told you."
Max was frowning. "Hmm. Tell him I said he thinks you're callipygous."
"Well, that's odd," I mumbled. "Okay. Max said to tell you that you think I'm callipygous. I have no idea what the hell that means, but . . . yeah."
"Tell her I'm not a hobbledehoy anymore," he challenged.
"She can hear you," I informed him. "You just can't hear her. I can."
Max smirked. "Tell him I said I'm not gonna mollycoddle him because he's an oocephalus."
"She said she's not gonna mollycoddle you because you're an oocephalus," I said lightly. "Now, do you believe me?"
"I believed you before," he admitted. "I just wanted to talk to Max and hear you attempt to say those words."
"You can always talk to her," I informed him. "Now you have a new way to hear her."
For some reason, knowing Max was in the room didn't change things for him. When I said that, he literally tackled me into the floor and started kissing me again. I could hear Max groaning about how disgusting he was, but I was ignoring her too.
It's easier than you would think to ignore a spirit.
After making out pretty hard and intensely for a good while longer, we both got dressed again. Fang only put on a pair of athletic shorts, but I put on the same white lacy camisole and pink cotton pajama shorts with hearts on them.
I was using Nudge's clothes, okay?
Through dreary, drooping eyes, I saw Fang cautiously standing up from the bed and beginning to head out of the room. It was enough to wake me up.
"You don't have to go," I said quietly. "You can stay here. If we managed to stop before, I think we can do it now that we both want to sleep."
He turned back towards me with dreary eyes. "You sure?"
"Positive," I insisted before patting the bed. "Besides, it's your bed anyways."
Max scoffed. "Wow. I'm not even dead twenty-four hours, and he's already sleeping with a new woman? I have to say, I'm impressed."
I glared over at her, but I wasn't really angry. "Hey, you're the new one. I had him first. It's not—"
"I know, I know," she interrupted, before I could say anything else. "I get it. Actually, I'd much prefer it this way. It's healthier for him. Much healthier. Either way, he would've held it all in, but with you, he has someone to let it all out on. He's better off this way."
"Agreed," I nodded as Fang slipped back under the covers. His arms slid around my waist, and I just snuggled into his warm arms.
He understood what was going on. "So, if you see dead people, wouldn't you see them everywhere?"
I shook my head. "It's not like I see every person who dies. They have to be murdered, and even still, I don't see every person ever murdered. If I ever saw the person at some point in my life, even if I just glanced over them, I'll see their ghost until I help them. The kicker there is that they can't tell me who it is that killed them. They're not allowed, so I have to figure it out myself. The scary part of my ability, the thing that makes me want to get rid of it, is those who kill themselves haunt me. Sometimes it's dreams, and other times, it's reflections. They haunt me until I kill someone."
Yeah, I just said kill someone. It's not like I go around killing innocent people. It's usually people who have been escaping justice way too long, but if I can't find any, I kill one of Jeb's henchmen—same difference.
"Have you been able to do this all of your life?" he asked quietly.
I knew what he was really asking in one question, a two in one combo—did I hide something so important from him?
"No," I whispered, snuggling deep into his warm embrace. "Only after you left for the war."
We didn't say anything after that, because we were both too tired. Even if we had wanted to talk more on that subject, we wouldn't have, because we were out within thirty seconds.
