Love and War
Chapter Ten
"Can you help me with dinner?"
What?
"Uh, sure Ig," I answered warily. Obviously something was up. Since when did anyone voluntarily want me in the kitchen, preparing food? Especially Iggy. He always made fun of me for how bad a cook I was. It was inevitable though. I had yet to master even making toast, or rather something that wasn't so burnt it was actually recognizable. I just didn't have the patience for it all.
I followed his voice to the counter anyway, standing reluctantly at his side.
"Just peel the potatoes right there, then chop them up," he ordered, his cloudy blue eyes intent on a spot just above my left eyebrow. His long, careful fingers ghosted across the cutting board, feeling for the proper utensils, to make sure I had everything I needed.
"Are you sure?" I asked hesitatantly. I really didn't want to screw this meal up . . . His last one. The thought made me quiver, a pang fluttering in my chest.
Iggy smiled ruefully. "It'll be pretty hard for you to mess this one up, Max. There's not much room for disaster, that is unless you cut your finger off or something."
"Thanks," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes as I picked up the knife. "I feel so much better now."
He shook his head, smiling still as he turned back to the stove. I watched him for a moment, fiddling with the many dials until he had the burner just right. Ignorant to my stare he stepped back, seemingly satisfied with the temperature. He then moved easily to one of the cupboards, searching inside until he found the bowl he was looking for. When he set it down beside me I blinked for a moment, then turned back to the counter, realizing I hadn't started a thing.
We worked in companionable silence; him and I. There was nothing to be heard but the sounds of bubbling coming from the boiling water on the stove, and the scratching made from peeling the potatoes. He moved with grace, in a flurry of activity around the kitchen, smiling secretly to himself as he went. He accomplished ten times more than me in the span of a few minutes, but he didn't seem to mind my slow pace. Instead he joined me, the sound of his knife as he cut the potatoes as soon as I was finished with them beating along in quick succession with mine.
It was actually kind of peaceful, which was far from the norm these days. It liked it. A lot.
"This isn't so bad, is it?" Iggy inquired, grinning at me as he continued to chop away; somehow catching on to my train of thought.
"I guess not," I replied truthfully, nudging his shoulder. He chuckled to himself, dumping the contents of our bowl into the water. I joined in his laughter, for no reason at all other than the fact that it felt too good not to.
This was how it should always be. Unfortunately, all too soon it was going to be completely ruined.
"Are my services here finished?" I asked once our hysterics had subsided and we were launched into silence once more.
"I suppose . . . Or you could make salad. I don't think you could possibly screw that up. It involves more preparation than it does actual cooking, so you should be fine," he suggested.
"Okay," I agreeed, probably more quickly than he anticipated. Being in the kitchen was never my forte. That was always his domain. It was strange that he was asking me to help all of a sudden . . .
Yet, really, when I thought about it, not strange or sudden at all. With striking clarity I realized, as I stopped mid-reach for the refigeratior handle, what he was doing. He had percieved what a wreck I was over Fang's departure. He knew I was tearing myself up inside, maybe all along. Now he was trying to distract me, trying to find a place for me to belong now that Fang was soon to be gone.
The thought angered me even though I knew his intentions were nothing but good. I didn't need to be taken care of. I never did. I would handle this by myself, with no help from anybody else. I was supposed to be the one holding them up, not vice versa.
"Actually, I think I'm going to take a quick shower before dinner. You can make the salad," I said hurriedly, clenching my teeth. He looked up in surprise, a question clear in his eyes.
"Wha-?" he began, gingerly setting down the spoon he had been using to stir whatever else was simmering on the stove.
I spun on my heel and left before he could finish, running a frustrated hand through my hair. It seemed of the late that I had no control over my volatile emotions, and I was taking it out on everybody, even if they didn't deserve it. This whole ordeal was driving me up the wall, level ground nowhere in sight.
Practically sprinting to my room, and feeling like I needed an escape, I nearly toppled headlong into Fang, who was descending the stairs at his quick, but silent, pace.
"What's up?" he asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow as he steadied me by the shoulders. His calmness only fueled my rage. How could he act so indifferent? Tomorrow at this time he would be gone. Did he not care at all?
I shook my head, roughly shoving past him. For once he seemed content not to pursue me, and I made it to my room without being followed. It took all my impressive self control not to slam the door with all the force I had. Instead I let it click shut gently, before crumpling to my knees with my back supported by it. Dropping my head into my hands I let out a frustrated growl, tugging at my hair. The pain was enough to remind me that this wasn't all just a bad dream.
I hadn't cried so far. Not yet. The tears were pricking at my eyes now, though- an imperceptible threat. They burned gloatingly, another reminder of my heartache. Everything that was going so perfectly right before was quickly tunneling downhill, and I was the only one left at the crossroads, trying in vain to find some common ground.
Rubbing at my itching eyes I diminshed any signs of such weakness, taking deep breaths to swallow down the lump in my throat. Quickly crossing to the bathroom I stripped of my confining clothing, shivering naked as I twisted the knob, waiting for the water to gush forth. Not pausing for it to warm I stepped into the icy spray, goosebumps jumping to life all across my flesh.
I stood with the screen shut tight beside me, letting the freezing water rain all around me. I lifted my face to the ceiling, closing my eyes and just relishing in the feeling. Any feeling other than the numb ache in my chest.
Eventually the chill waned, morphing into a scalding heat that blistered my skin with its intensity. I bit my lip to hold back a shriek, not moving and granting my body some peace. When it finally seemed like I couldn't take anymore, and the steam swirling through the air was suffocating enough to make me choke, my fingers leniently shut off the liquid, leaving nothing but empty air in its place.
I stayed there for who knows how long; far past the time the chill crept up on me again, and my whole body shook and quviered with the coldness it brought. It seemed like ages before I was able to move my frigid, locked limbs once more.
Somehow I was able to accomplish it though, and was soon re-dressed and brushing my hair out; battling with the knots. Once it was smoothed back I tied it behind my head, abhoring the feeling of its weight on my back. The sweet, moutherwatering smells coming from downstairs were enough to draw me from my enclosure, though; back to civilization and the biting grip of reality.
I entered the kitchen just as Nudge did, looking a bit forlorn. It was then that I realized maybe we all were feeling the same sadness. We were just expressing it in different ways.
"Finally," Gazzy groaned from where he was seated at the table, bent forward in anticipation. I smirked as I took my seat, shaking my head at the way he practically leaped for the many dishes, scooping out large helpings onto his plate.
"Don't take it all," I warned him, gently easing a bowl from his hands. He smiled sheepishly, his spine colliding with the back of his chair.
After that it was like any other normal dinner. The others joked and laughed, poking fun at each others expense. Nothing was different, yet I found myself more lonely and isolated than ever before. This was Fang's last meal with us before he left. At least that's what he thought, because I still fully intended for him not to go at all. I wouldn't stop convincing him until the last minute. I was nothing if not stubborn, after all.
Thankfully no one spoke a word of his impending departure. The subject wasn't even broached by Gazzy, who was by far the most excited of all. We just had a regular family dinner. Nice. Peaceful.
While the thoughts racing through my mind were anything but.
"Who has dishes?" I asked once everyone was finished, scraping the last bit of food off their plates. We had been taught growing up to never waste anything, and the habit had stuck with us.
"Not me!" Gazzy claimed hurriedly, scrambling to his feet.
"It is too your turn!" Nudge insisted, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him back to the table. "We're stuck with it today, Gaz. I'll wash, you dry."
He complied, albeit a bit reluctantly, grumbling to himself as he piled the dishes in his hands. I rolled my eyes, laughing. He shot me a glare that clearly said exactly what he thought about his duty. This only made me laugh harder as I left the room, heading for the stairs.
When I reached the top I found I was at a dilemma. Go to Fang or let him come to me?
Eventually the stronger side of me won out; the part that wanted to be with Fang for as long as possible. Without giving it another thought I advanced towards his door, pausing briefly before entering.
He glanced up from where he had been seated on his bed in surprise, coming to his feet as I approached. We stared at each other wordlessly, his gaze penetrating and emotionless as ever.
By some unspoken agreement we stepped towards each other, closing the small distance between us. My hands became lost in his silky black hair, as he gripped my waist; making my shirt ride up. His fingers brushed against my bare skin, sending a shockwave of tingles up my spine. I shivered as our lips met, hungry with a burning desire.
His lips seemed to mold to mine perfectly as we twisted our heads this way and that, trying in vain to get closer to each other, even though in reality we were growing farther and farther apart. His mouth crushed aginst my own, our bodies pressed together as tightly as possible. There was nothing in the world that could drag me away from this moment and him.
Finally we parted, breathing heavily; our limbs like jelly. His lips left my skin only briefly as they traveled the expanse of my jaw, his breath hot on my fiery flesh. My own hands wandered down his back, then up and over his chest, slipping between his shirt. He shuddered at the contact, making me smile as I lazily moved my palm over his toned abs.
We kissed again, his mouth returning to my own. I reveled in the feeling, locking my hands around his neck once more. It was passionate . . . which was one word I'd thought I'd never associate with Fang. He just wasn't the 'passionate' sort of guy. But this . . . this was heavy stuff. And I loved every second of it.
The heat eventually subsided, replaced by a tenderness I wasn't usually accustomed to. Then there came the time when we pulled apart indefinitely, content with just holding each other. I rested my head on his shoulder, turning my face into his neck. We rocked back and forth there, almost dancing in nothing but the enveloping silence.
"I'm going to miss you," he whispered, his arms tightening around me as he spoke. My breath hitched, as the full force of the situation hit me. Fang was leaving. Tomorrow. And it was up to me to stop him.
"I'm going to miss you, too," I breathed, swallowing thickly. Tears blurred my vision, and this time I couldn't hold them back.
"Shh," he murmured, stroking my hair. "Don't cry Max. Please don't cry.
"How can I not cry?" I demanded, hiccuping slightly. "You're leaving. You're leaving me."
"It'll be fine. You'll be fine," he insisted softly.
"I'm not even going to recognize you. Once they get ahold of you you won't be mine anymore. Horrible things will happen. They'll cut off all your hair for God's sake!" I didn't really see how that hardly mattered, but even that -as small as it was- still frightened me.
"I'll always be yours, Max. Always. No matter how short my hair is." Was he really trying to make jokes?
"You promised though!" I cried, shoving away from him. He stumbled back, surprised at my sudden movement. "You promised Fang."
"What?" he asked in confusion, reaching out for me again. I took a step back, shaking my head furiously.
"You can't go. Don't you see? You can't. You promised you'd never leave me again! You promised."
His face looked ashen, an irregular show of such strong emotion. He opened and closed his mouth again and again, searching for the words that would appease my qualms. In the end all he could settle on was; "I'm sorry." Futile. Useless.
The tears contined heavily now, racing in a torrent down my face. I stared up at him through a fractured and blurry vision, wishing we could go back to before all this started. Before my whole world was ruptured and falling apart.
"No you're not," I whispered, crushed.
"Max-"
I turned before he could say anything else, running from the room as the last bit of my heart still waiting for him shattered to pieces.
Authors Note: Uh . . . yeah. Review? I know they seemed to be having the same arguement over and over again . . . but that was the last one.