Hey guys! It's Sam C: here! And I have FINALLY managed to update My Fair Lady with a new chapter! I hope it was worth the wait; approximately seven thousand plus words on a +number of sixteen pages! Enjoy! C:
First off, I'd like to apologize for the delay. :C As many of you know, I have school, and school just sucks the energy away from me like a leech/vampire. :C And of course, this week was...the ever so dreaded PROVINCIAL WEEK! But as I had my first (And final) one of Semester one (Oh, the dreaded English provincial), well, it just made sense to celebrate with a NEW CHAPTER!
Secondly, I'd just like to take the time to express my deepest thank-yous! I'm very thankful for the 136 (Or was it 137? Oh my God, I suck at memorization LOL XD) reviews given to me! Your constructive criticism, reviews and feedback definitely make my day. No joke there. C: So, thank-you lovely, awesome, completely amazing and fabulous readers!
And lastly...
Max - YOU'RE BAAACK!
Sam C: - Yes, yes, I'm back! HIGH FIVES EVERYBODY!
-Everybody hugs/high fives except for Fang-
Sam C: - Why is Mr. McGrumpy so grumpy today?
Fang - I am not looking forward to this chapter; simple as that.
Sam C: - I think somebody is eating dry vinegar!
Nudge - Ewww, gross much? Who would eat vinegar DRY?
Sam C: - No, Nudge Fudge, it's just a saying in Chinese, meaning that somebody is jeaaaaaaaalous!
Iggy - I read over the Chapter. YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MIND.
Angel - Guys, guys, I'm sure Sam C: has her limits set...
Max - ANGEL! READ THIS!
Angel - HOW COULD YOU, SAMMY?
Gazzy - Uh oh! Looks like Sammy is in for some trouuuuuuble!
Sam C: - NO, GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!
(Lissa's Point of View)
"I can-NOT believe you failed! How could you betray me, and LIE stating that you beat that little bitch up? I said you'd get this when you fulfilled your task, NOT when you FAILED." I screeched angrily as I wrapped my pink silk bathrobe over my body.
Dylan looked at me, eyes narrowing as he hugged the blanket closer to his body. "It's not my problem. You're the one who didn't give me enough info. We all couldn't believe that the little jerk is, in fact, a girl!"
"Well, either way, you failed," I spat bitterly. I looked at our clothes sprawled all over the carpet. "And you used me for your own sexual pleasure!"
"You're one to talk," He snorted sarcastically. However, instead of rolling back into bed and sleeping, he got out of bed, pulled on his boxers and wrapped his arms around me. Talk about…
"What in the WORLD are you doing?" I hissed, trying to free his grasp around my waist.
"I'll promise you that I won't let you down, okay?" He murmured into my neck. "Oh, God, you smell like vanilla."
"Get the hell away from me; I'm only doing this because I want that little bitch out of One Winged Angel, for good. She should've known what the consequences were for impersonating a male and getting close to Fang." I said, pushing him away forcefully.
"Are you sure you weren't day-dreaming? I mean, you have a high tolerance for alcohol, but you…" His voice faltered as he noticed the steely glint emitting from my eyes.
"I, for sure, saw breasts underneath that shirt. Don't question me; I know what I saw, and I know what my purpose is now." I was now crawling around on my knees, rummaging through the piles of clothes. "Get dressed. I'm sick of the hotel smell, and Mommy's going to wonder why I'm so late for the album jacket photo shoot with…" I made a gagging noise. "The gruesome threesome…"
"I thought you hated the girls?" The tone was questioning, and once again, I shot him another hazardous scowl.
"Of course I do. They're in my way towards world domination of the music industry. I mean," I flipped my red hair and sighed amorously at my reflection. Dang, even after a sweaty make-out session, I still looked fabulous.
"I am, in fact, the entire package. I am what everybody wants. There isn't a single doubt about it." I winked at myself in the mirror, and then whirled around. "Come on, let's go. You're supposed to be driving me, and Mommy isn't supposed to know I'm using my chauffeur as my dark knight to defeat…" I growled slightly. "The evil princess."
(Max's Point of View)
About a day after Iggy's sudden declaration for the end towards his blindness, the entire One Winged Angel family (Dad included) had tried to come up with the most brilliant lists of reasons/excuses as to why Iggy should NOT get a cornea transplant.
After around thirty-hours of brainstorming since the day his pledge to undergo surgery, Gazzy dragged him from the dinner table ("I'm missing out on my delicious hamburger!") and pushed him down onto the red love seat.
"What do you want? I was just getting to the pickle!" Iggy groaned, totally annoyed.
I coughed, interrupting his complaints. "We, as the entire One Winged Angel family, have come to the conclusion that…"
Enter dramatic page flipping of a large notepad scribbled in blue thick Sharpie, titled '10 Reasons as to Why James Iggy Unknown-Last-Name Should Not Get a Cornea Transplant'. Yes, and if you MUST know, it was the beautiful cursive writing of Fang; the best thing I could muster out are non-perfectly proportioned dotted I's and V's.
Right, as well as, enter loud banging of a meter stick on the notepad. "Holy crap!" Gazzy shrieked, jumping a foot away and into the non-supportive arms of Dad (Which were hanging limply on his sides), thus having him collide loudly onto the wooden floor boards. Oh, dear.
Fang shot him an uncertain glance, enclosing the message 'Only girls will jump at the sound of a banged meter stick.' Gazzy, with his arm in a cast, stood back up and glared at Dad. "I'm fine; THANKS!"
"Shut up, Gazzy!" I said, and then I cleared my throat. "Anyway, as I was saying before Gazzy caused a rather large commotion, the entire One Winged Angel family, have come up with ten wonderful reasons as to why you, Iggy, should not get a cornea transplant."
At the sound of "cornea transplant", Iggy's ears perked up.
"Reason number one, flip the page if you please, Fang," I ordered. "Reason number one: Iggy, you don't need a cornea transplant. Fans love you for who you are. They enjoy your skill with the drums in the group, and because of it, you have rather large fan base, so why in the world would you want one anyway?"
"Reason number two, you're not blind to the point that you don't know anything. You know the locations of everything in the villa, you know how to cook, and you know the entire drum set like the back of your hand!" After a pause, I looked at Iggy, who was staring emotionless at us. A funny feeling of uneasiness started to grow in the pit of my stomach.
"I think it's working very well!" Gazzy whispered in my ear. I shook him away. I mean, c'mon, I'm losing my vibe if I get interrupted! And are my eyes deceiving me? Or…
"Reason number three…"
BANG!
In a flash, Iggy kicked the coffee table over, turning over the fruit basket, with apples, oranges and pears thrown around midair, knocking over the notepad set on the whiteboard, as well as hitting both Dad and Gazzy on the nose.
"And now, I can truthfully reply that no, this plan did NOT work," I grumbled through gritted teeth as a very gushy orange went splat all over my hair, with pulp dripping continuously and stinging my eyes with juice. Greeat – mental note: Never let Gazzy or Dad go to a cheap market to buy groceries ever again.
"Is this another way to insult me?" Iggy cried angrily. "God, I thought that as band mates, you were going to support me with my decision. Look, it's my life; I know how I want to live it, and this is what I want to change about myself! If you don't like it, you can easily get the fuck out!" And with that, he banged into the nearby lamp, cussing once more.
I have never, ever heard the cool, calm and collected Iggy drop the F-Bomb in the house before. Shocked as I was, and horribly sticky with the juice starting to dry on my clothes as well as face (The plus side was that I gave off a very orange-y aroma), I began to chase after him.
Only to be pulled back by Fang. ARGH! Double the annoyance! I wrung my hand away from his grasp. "I've got to run after him! We can't lose him!"
"Let him cool down," Fang opposed. "He's an adult, and – "
"I don't freaking give a crap if he's an adult or not! As one of his band mates, I'm worried about him, and letting him cool down isn't the best solution right now! Just take care of Dad and Gazzy now; they're the ones that need the most immediate attention!"
He couldn't argue with that; blood was gushing out like a waterfall from their nostrils from the traumatic impact on the nose with two granny-smith apples. Not only did I have to face a future of running through Los Angeles with (Embarrassingly enough) orange juice on my face, I also had to deal with the fact that Dad was no longer going to make his apple turnovers until he sees his psychiatrist for help to cope with his phobia of apples.
Without saying another word, I hurriedly put on my shoes and dashed out of the parlour and into the cool air.
Man, life can be such a little bitch sometimes. Here I am, soaked in the juices of the yummy citrus, jogging along the streets of quiet Los Angeles to find where my blind band mate could be, with Fang tending to the wounds of Dad and Gazzy.
After ten minutes of searching, though, I thought I heard a cry emit from the subway station. "It must be a stray cat or something…" But needless to say, anything was possible. I crept inside to find…
"Iggy!"
I rushed towards him and wrapped my arms around him. "Iggy, thank GOODNESS I found you! I've been looking all over for you!"
"WHY IN THE GOD FORSAKEN WORLD DO YOU HAVE YOUR ARMS AROUND MY BOYFRIEND?" echoed in the subway station loudly a millisecond after I put my arms around 'Iggy'.
Crap. I quickly wrapped my scarf around my mouth and nose, and then whirled around to find myself staring into the puny yet threatening eyes of an overweight, pudgy female with her arms crossed over her chest.
Then, I looked truly into the face of the 'crying' man, whose eyeballs protruding furiously as he continuously shook his head, mumbling 'No, no, no, don't come back with a condom, don't come back with a condom'.
Needless to say, it wasn't Iggy.
And I was going to suffer the consequences.
Luckily, the subway came to a stop at that exact moment. Doors opening, I jumped in at lightning speed before the ginormous prune could get to me with her jabbing pink claws of doom.
Immaturely, I made a face (Stuck out my tongue is more like it) as she pounded the glass doors furiously, giving me the middle finger at the same time. WHATEVER MAN; a great tub of lard like her was NEVER fast enough for the brilliant Maximum Ride.
"SUCKER!" I yelled triumphantly, doing a 'happy dance' so to speak.
"If you want to find somebody, you ought to look for them in places where it is secluded during midnight."
I turned, blood turning chillingly cold at the voice. Seated on one of the plastic seats was…
My eyes widened happily (And the rest of the blood in my body warmed up by a considerable amount). "Iggy! It is you! I've been looking all over for you!" Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him. And of course, he pushed me away.
"Don't give me this namby-pamby, wishy-washy affection." He spat, and I winced at the amount of venom concealed within his voice. But his mouth looked less thin after I hugged him. Less thin mouth equals the ability to sit beside him and talk. Total score.
"Okay, then…let us…" I inched into the seat. "Sit and talk, then."
By the time we reached the next stop, however, he barely said a word. And I was starting to feel the pressures of uncontrollable awkwardness between two people in a secluded subway train. However, as the train started to rush away once again, I spoke.
"Iggy, I'm really, really sorry about what happened tonight," I said, speaking to my palms instead of him. Surprised, he glanced at me.
"We, as a team, really care about you. I know that once you discovered other options that may help you overcome your blindness, you are willing to do whatever it takes to obtain your vision back. I get that, I understand that."
"But you also have to know that we weren't trying to insult you in any way. We just want you to think this through thoroughly." Try saying that ten times fast; I challenge you! "And let's say, the operation does go smoothly and you do get your vision back, will you feel any difference between the blind Iggy and the non-visually-impaired Iggy?" I paused for a moment, only to see his impassive expression. Does this mean I can continue? Probably…
"I mean, think about it. The blind Iggy can cook a mean cheese omelette like no other person in the house," A quick glance, and…YES! I thought I saw his frown uplift by a tad. "The blind Iggy can beat the drum kit AND know the different components of the kit like a genius Grade 12 student memorizing the different sexual organs of the reproductive system, AND all of this is what makes you…well, you."
I look right at him, and instead of the small uplifted smile, it enlarged into a full-blown grin. "You know what, Ari? Apart from Gazzy and Fang, you amuse me to a large extent. Congratulations."
Uh-oh. The awkwardness has come back. Was he expecting me to continue on? I forgot my notes! I…I don't HAVE them with me!
"But Ari," His voice trailed off when he said my name. I looked out the window to see the moonlight shining reflectively off of him, giving off (NO, NOT SENSUAL) unique, angular and defined cheekbones that I had never seen before.
"You need to understand something too. It's my life that we're talking about here." At that, I had nothing left to say. I knew he was right, and that our meddling was most definitely uncalled for. "I know that all of you, particularly you for taking the time to chase after me, really care about me…" The moon casted it's moonlight down onto his hair, highlighting the tips of his neat spikey bristles. He looked angelic; really, he did.
"But I know what I'm going to have to deal with in the future. I'm not a five-year-old; I know what I'm dealing with here. I know what the surgery is about. What you said before…really touched me. But there are sometimes that…my disability just gets the best of me."
"I can't interact with my fans too well, I need to be described how the drum beats to every new song goes, and as much as I am a fantastic cook, I do have a tendency to cut my fingers, almost close to amputating them from my hand." With that, I had to give off a chuckle. Whaaat? Don't give me that look; it's funny! Okay, not really…
"If I am given the opportunity to get my vision back, then I'm going to take it. There are some risks that are worth taking in life, and when the momentum is right, you're just going to have to take a dive and see what's in store. Am I right?" He smiled hopefully at me, while I could only sigh, pushing my feet up onto the seat right in front of us.
"You have your points, but we also have ours. I'm just so conflicted right now about what's going on. One, I really do support you, but two, I'm afraid that we're going to lose you." I admitted, sinking deeper into the cushion of the seat.
His voice was skeptical when I said this. "Lose me? I'm not going anywhere! I'm still going to be Iggy, no matter what happens. I'm still going to play drums, and I'm still going to cook apple turnovers." In an attempt to cheer me up, he poked me in the sides, and I squealed.
"Dude, you suck!" I said, half-amused. Then, I sighed. "Alright, I agree with you."
"Well, I know my decision is not going to make you happy." He was still troubled. Man, what a thoughtful guy. After some thought, he came up with a brilliant idea, as if a light bulb just clicked in his head. "How about this? I will inquire Dr. Henry to see if there are any cornea transplants available for me after my tests are complete. If he doesn't call back in two weeks, then I'll give up on the idea."
My eyes widened in shock. "Completely?"
"Yes, completely. I am trustworthy, no?"
"O-of course, you are!" I was still baffled, but I had complete trust in Iggy. "And…what if he calls back within that time frame?"
"Then, obviously, I'm going to schedule a surgery. Are you happy with that idea?" He raised his fifth finger as a sign of promise. I raised mine and intertwined it with his.
"Happy; most definitely happy."
By now, my watch started to beep. I read the electronic digits 12:30 A.M. I stifled a yawn while my eyes started to droop tiredly. "Are you tired?"
"Am I ever…and because of you having a fit, I got splashed with orange juice and ran for ten minutes to find you!" Iggy smirked. It wasn't one of those sexy "Fang" smirks though, but more of a playful, teasing one.
"I suppose we could…sleep on the train. Have you ever done that?" I shook my head. "No, not really. I never stayed out much…"
Iggy raised his shoulder. "An act of selflessness, I presume?" I teased.
"No, not really," He replied, his voice concealed his smile.
"Wake me up when my watch starts to beep. We need to take the train back so that we don't get hounded by our fans." It was all I could mumble before I completely blacked out and started snoring loudly on Iggy's shoulder.
Well, unfortunately, you could never count on Iggy.
Iggy never managed to wake up, so we ended up sleeping in the unmoving subway train for the entire morning. By the time I woke up, the janitor who was sweeping up the subway station floors was staring at the both of us incredulously that if he was going to stare any longer, his eyeballs were going to pop off.
Instead, we hurriedly jumped into a taxi cab before the morning rush of the subway could start. By the time we got home though, it was a completely different story compared to the one that I had with Iggy on the subway train.
Yes, Fang and Dad got on their "angry" faces, shouting themselves hoarse at why I (Apparently, everything was my fault) didn't call home the first thing I found him, and why we had to have a "sleepover party" on the subway train.
As much as I hated letting Dad down with my irresponsible behaviour, I admit that I enjoyed the wonderful time with Iggy. It was the first time that I really enjoyed myself and felt that I could be the "me" that I actually am. And plus, I got to connect with Iggy!
So, as punishment, I've been forced to do all of the disgustingly vile maid work at the villa after a very strenuous and tiring day of training or performing. It sucks. No, it's not because I'm one of those girly-girls that don't know how to do chores. It's what I FIND in the spaces of Gazzy's bed, clogged corners of Fang's room and obviously, my "neat and organized" father who actually has a stack of Playboy magazines concealed discreetly in a box labelled "Vegetables".
Yes, as well as a picture of Jenna Jameson taped onto his bedframe.
And with that, two weeks seemed to have gone by without a breeze. Time seemed to slip past my fingers so quickly, and believe it or not, it has been approximately one month since "Ari" debuted in One Winged Angel!
However, today is also known as the last day of the deadline for Dr. Henry's return phone call about cornea transplants. Knowing Dad and Fang, they needed some time to digest the pact I made with Iggy on the subway. Whether it was submerging themselves in a tub of icy cold water to "think things through thoroughly" or "locking inside their bedroom with two tubs of chocolate ice-cream to melt away the troubles", they (reluctantly so) agreed to the promise.
I glance at the clock while chewing on my lower lip. God damnit, I have got to stop doing that or else I'm going to continually have chapped lips that won't heal for –
Suddenly, the phone rang. At that moment, everything in time seemed to stop, except for the constant ringing of the phone.
"PICK UP THE PHONE! I'M TRYING TO WATCH GLEE!" Fang screamed from the living room. I rolled my eyes. Sure, I might have a tiny crush on him, and he MAY have rescued me…and…okay, FINE! I have a very large crush on him, but it does NOT mean I'm not going to take his crap!
"IF YOU HAVE ANY FREE HANDS, THEN YOU GO PICK IT UP. I'M THE ONE IN CHARGE OF PICKING UP YOUR TRAPPED SNOT IN YOUR ROOM!" I screamed back. I heard from grumbling emit from the living room, but I picked up the phone away. Torturing Fang about his habit of picking boogers and flicking them into the corners of his room was no way to deal with the problem.
And plus, there was no phone found in the living room. He would've had to drag his butt a few metres away, which is a "trek just as tiring as climbing the Sahara Desert". (In all defense, Fang said this. As much as I have an unhealthy adoration for his cursive writing, I believe he failed geography as the Sahara Desert is mainly miles and miles of desert).
"Hello?"
"Hello? Is this Ari?"
"Yes, this is. May I ask who is calling?"
"Hi Ari! It's Dr. Henry from the hospital. Could I ask for your help to transfer a message to Iggy?"
I felt my eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, I felt as if I stopped breathing for a few long seconds. "O-of course. Hang on, let me just get a pen."
After exchanging good-byes, I look at the scribbles on the notepad.
September 24th - 8:30 A.M.
Corneal Transplant Surgery for Iggy
"Looks like fate has set up a date for Iggy to obtain his vision back after all," I murmured quietly.
"You look like a mint-flavoured lollipop." Gazzy observed while sucking on his own green-apple flavoured lollipop he bribed from one of the nurses at the reception desk. It was still dark, and the nurses were pretty fatigued so they pretty much gave away anything at the desk. If you asked them for a patient's "extremely confidential" (Like they have the T Virus or something) files, they would've given them to you too.
"You've had too much sugar for one day, my man," I said, pulling the lollipop out of his cavity-filled mouth and chucking it into the garbage. Suddenly, Dad came in, carrying a random duffel bag of mine filled with Iggy's toiletries, some clothes, as well as…
"Snacks? Apple chips?" I said, completely surprised while I rummaged through the contents of the bag. "Daaad, Iggy isn't a self-conscious health freak! What happened to all of the barbeque-flavoured potato chips and chocolate bars I told you to get?"
"Not to worry, Ari, I asked Manager Jeb to get them for me. I may not be a health freak, but you can't deny the yummy goodness of organic and dried sliced fruits." Iggy called from the hospital room bed, whose arm was hooked up to a very sophisticated-looking set of equipment, delivering an icky-looking fluid into his veins. The steady 'Beep, Beep' of his heart was a good sign; he wasn't nervous and was well-enough to crack jokes. Good signs, man, good signs.
Dad shot me a superior look at the same time I stomped my foot painfully on his own, resulting in a very loud 'YEOWCH!' If he keeps this up, he's going to have more than a painful foot and a partly broken nose to heal.
"Um, Jeb, Gazzy, do you mind going to the nearest Seven Eleven to get me another bag of apple chips?" Dad nodded, dragging a weeping Gazzy (About his stupid lollipop) with him. And obviously, Iggy did NOT want another bag of apple chips (He had a dozen in his duffel bag; I'm sure it could last him thirteen hours, if not more), but just the silence, and of course me…and of course…him.
Then, there was the awkward silence again.
"We're both so awkward, don't you think?" Iggy said airily as if it were no big deal. I leaned against the bed, then sinking down onto the soft mattress.
"Oh, I highly agree. An awkward person means awkward conversations with other awkward people." I replied.
"You're hilarious," Iggy complimented. I smiled, but it faltered as soon as I looked at him. "Are you nervous?" I asked, my tone softening.
Iggy shrugged. "Well, I don't know how you would define nervous. Excited, I am for sure. If you ask me if I'm anxious for the result, then definitely, I am. Nervous…" He looked thoughtful, but then it was replaced by a smile afterwards. "I'm not…because I got to know I have such a nice band of supporters behind me."
He gave my arm a comforting squeeze, even though I should be the one who is offering all that mushy gushy, comforting goodness to our dearest patient!
I tried to change the subject, without much success, but it managed to settle the worriedness that continually bugged my heart. "Are you even going to need all these? I mean, Dr. Henry did say you could be dispatched a few hours after the surgery."
Iggy snorted. "You want me home, I want myself home too! No, unfortunately. The Prez went hysterical and berserk when she found out I wanted a corneal transplant. Of course, she agreed with my decision, but then she decided 'it's best for you to remain in the hospital for a day so you understand the post-operative care procedures so well to the point you can copy them down word for word in a notebook.'" I was, however, sincerely touched at her offer. YES, I am TOUCHED by the Prez! Hmmm, is it just me or has she gotten much more caring about her artists?
A knock at the door interrupted my train of thought. It was Fang, bringing in a gentle-looking nurse. "Iggy, are you ready for your surgery?"
Iggy clapped his hands together. "Am I ever ready, nurse!" The nurse brushed me away brusquely and mumbled, "Excuse me, please" while adjusting Iggy's position.
While wheeling towards the operation room, I gripped onto the handles of the bed anxiously. "Iggy, you're going to be okay. I mean, you've still got to teach me how to bake a carrot cake!"
Iggy smiled feebly. "You don't think I will be? I think a carrot cake will be much too advanced for an amateur baker like you." Before Fang pried my sweaty fingers away from the handles of the wheeling bed, he clutched my own fingers. It didn't give off an awkward or a strange feeling; it shocked me to the point that it sent a warm feeling to the pit of my stomach.
The surgery doors closed behind the doctors, and there was only the four of us left in the hallway leading into the surgery room.
Fang placed a hand on my shoulder. "He's going to be fine. You don't need to worry."
I turned my head and smiled at him. "Of course I know that. I'm not going to worry. I'm just anxious about who's going to be in charge of buying more bags of apple chips for him."
The surgery wasn't going to take too long, but neither of us wanted to stay at the hospital for the entire length of the surgery. After all, Iggy was still going to be under the influence of the sedative, so it was better to wait at home rather than wait in the sickening scent of sterilized equipment.
Back home, however, it was a completely, totally different story.
Everything was normal. Gazzy with his unhealthy obsession with Arthur, Dad continually texting on his cell phone to god knows who he might be texting, and…Fang?
Well, Fang immediately rushed up (More like stomped up) to his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him. "Who pinned his tail on the donkey today?" I asked loudly, frowning slightly.
"I don't even know." Dad mumbled behind his Blackberry. "He's been acting like this since the day you and Iggy came home together."
I pursed my lips thoughtfully. "Hmmm, now that you mention it, Dad, you're right. I mean, not speaking at dinner, criticizing ME lately, all that lovely frowning…"
"Uh-huh, sure," Dad muttered.
"Who the hell are you texting?" In a quick swipe, I managed to pry his Blackberry away from his fingers and glance at the Contact.
I widened my eyes in surprise. "The PREZ?" He snatched his phone back, blushing to the roots of his hair.
"So what if I am texting the Prez? As a single father, I am allowed to type and send electronic messages to co-workers, am I right?" I rolled my eyes, holding my hands up high.
"Whatever, Dad, whatever you say…"
I was going to exit up to my room to take a nap, but as all the wise people say, "curiosity killed the cat". And my curiosity and anxiety for Fang got the best of me, so I tiptoed towards his bedroom door and opened it a crack.
If my eyes aren't deceiving me…I see a pair of white Dr. Dre's settled comfortably on Fang's ears, a black pen in tow and…he has a very flexible and bendy notepad (Or something of the like, I don't know how to describe it) nestled on where his penis lies.
"What in the world are you doing? Drawing on your penis?" I blurted out.
Fang immediately set the notepad down (Ah, a notepad; makes TOTAL sense!) and tossed the pen away. "It's called…a notepad," He stated menacingly. "And haven't you ever heard of basic manners? Such as knocking on one's door before you enter their private area of zen?"
"What's the matter with you, man? You've been acting so weirdly for the past two weeks." I said, stating my observations matter-of-factly.
"None of your business."
Greeeat – I try to help, and all I do is get a sneer and a disgusted glare from Mr. Grumpy McGrumper Pants once again.
"Fine…fine! I give up! Have it your way!" I shouted, feeling slightly guilty for throwing in the red flag so easily.
But really, YOU should've SEEN the SNEER! It was like…a mixture of dark, sexy AND evil at the same time! Not too hot, if you ask me…
(Fang's Point of View)
Ari slammed the door in my face, and left me alone. For some reason, even though I should be feeling comforted and peaceful in my bedroom, I feel much more remorseful.
I don't know why; ever since Iggy and Ari started to spend a lot of time with each other, there has been a growing feeling of dread forming in my stomach. And I can't blame the sushi for it this time because the sushi would have been long digested a month ago.
Okay, so I mean, on one point, I'm extremely happy that Ari is fulfilling the roles of what a "leader" actually does. Like, I am the leader, of course, but I'm not good with all of those emotions. Too many emotions make a grumpy leader, and a grumpy leader makes a lousy performance, and lousy performances makes bad reviews…and you get the idea.
He offers comfort to those around him, and he has the ability to calm you down and tell you that everything is okay, even though the situation is COMPLETELY out of my control. He's like…a dad, I guess you can say. He's the dad in our One Winged Angel family.
But on the other end of the stick, it doesn't feel right that Iggy and Ari are spending so much time together. Everybody in One Winged Angel is extremely worried about Iggy, of course, but Ari…woo man…you should've seen the dark bags under his eyes!
He's been researching information about corneal transplant surgery a week after Dr. Henry called the villa to inform Iggy of a donor, he's been practicing how to cook (And really, his experiments are never deemed "edible") and somehow, he…has been isolating me away.
Well, I guess that is also considered my fault. I mean, I'm the "cool type". I'm not the "A-hee-hee! Poke, poke, poke!" or "Stay positive!" guy. That's just lame.
I sigh half-heartedly, and pick up the sketchpad nestled on my lap.
"I'm so conflicted…" I murmured to myself while staring at my "masterpiece". No, it's not an original Leonardo Da Vinci. More like…an original Nicholas Fang Robertson. Yeah, I could sell this and retire as a billionaire.
It's a portrait of Ari, smiling brightly at me.
"Argh, what's the point?" I rip the page away, rip it into shreds and discard the remaining bits of paper into the garbage can.
I guess I'll take a nap; no point in moaning anyway.
(Max's Point of View)
When we finally entered Iggy's hospital room, Iggy was sitting, completely upright while listening to music. I pulled an ear bud out. HEH, the little scoundrel will never know it's me!
"Nurse, I was JUST listening to that!" He complained.
"Now, now, dear Iggy, you must be patient!" I said as motherly as I could.
"You're not the nurse…" He said reflectively. "It's YOU, Ari, isn't it?"
I smiled cheerfully, even though he wasn't able to see it yet. "How are you feeling, Iggy? Was the surgery painful?"
"DID YOU BLEED?" I heard Gazzy emit from behind Dad, holding a bouquet of flowers. Dad had to whack him on the head to make sure the flowers were still in one piece.
"I don't really know," He admitted. "I was under the influence of the medicine for the duration of the surgery, so I don't have a clear sense of what happened. I'm off to see the doctor today, though." He added brightly.
The nice-looking nurse from yesterday arrived, equipped with a wheelchair in tow. "Iggy? Dr. Henry is ready to see you now!" The nurse helped Iggy into the wheelchair, and then was about to wheel him out into the hallway towards one of the offices in the other building when she cleared her throat.
"It is best if all of you come. Dr. Henry will also be here to explain the post-operative procedures, which are crucial in order for Iggy's newly stitched corneas to keep them healthy and clear."
Glancing at one another, we hurried along with the nurse. Apparently, in nursing shoes, you can also walk rather quickly, compared to those who are only around fifteen to twenty years old yet are wearing Converse sneakers. I will never make fun of those nursing shoes ever again.
"Can I have another lollipop when – "
"No."
We finally arrived at Dr. Henry's office. The nurse cleared her throat once again, and rapped on the ugly vomit-green painted door. "Dr. Henry? It's Crystal. I have brought Iggy to see you."
"You can bring him in, Crystal. My door's open." We soon found ourselves facing a very friendly-looking doctor. Still, I don't trust doctors that much. Sorry, buddy, but it's personal. I have always had nightmares of evil-looking doctors inserting all these injections into my body to make me more "powerful" when I was younger. Hence, another phobia of mine: Doctors, as well as the icky smell of sanitized equipment that wafts throughout the hospital.
"So, Iggy!" Dr. Henry said, his dark brown hair was slowly fading to grey, but it didn't signify that he was getting any older. Probably mid-thirties or early forties…I'll say…give or take a few years…
"Do you feel any tiredness or pain in your eyes?"
Iggy shook his head. "Not really, but it's all thanks to Nurse Crystal and her daily doses of Tylenol that keep me from swearing in the hospital room."
"Now, Iggy," Dr. Henry began, his tone slightly amused. "I'm going to start peeling your bandages off, alright?"
"Ready for you, Dr. Henry,"
Slowly and carefully, Dr. Henry raised his hands and started to peel away at the patch. It took an infuriatingly long time (Maybe around fifteen minutes totally), but when he finally set them down on the desk, I stared at Iggy for a loooong period of time.
"Can you see at all?" I asked curiously.
Iggy blinked his eyes several times, having some tears leak out from the corners. Finally, he opened them and stared at ME; just me, no one else.
After a moment, he spoke.
"So this is…you? You're…Ari? The one who chased me around for ten minutes with orange pulp sliding down your face?" He whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible, reaching up with his hand to touch my cheek.
I nodded solemnly. "That would be me, yes indeed."
"Iggy, you look DASHING with your new eyes!" Gazzy said jokingly, thrusting the bouquet of flowers into Dad's hands.
"AH!" I cried, throwing my hands out. "You cannot touch the patient yet! He needs his rest!"
Dr. Henry examined Iggy's eyes for several more minutes until he put his penlight back into the pocket of his white shirt. "I do not think you will need the patches anymore, Iggy. You're free to go home!"
"Dude, are you SERIOUS? This is how much Los Angeles changed since I was three?" Iggy cried, completely captured by the brilliance of the cityscape.
I couldn't blame him though. The poor guy hasn't been able to see since he was a child. You should've seen the look on his face when he actually saw how Fang, Gazzy and Dad looked like.
Right, right, did I forget to mention his expression when he saw HIMSELF in the mirror? He was so freaked out; he refused to look at the mirror until I forced him to.
Needless to say, as much as I hate to admit it, Iggy was much, much happier without his disability. In a matter of days, CME Entertainment released an official statement regarding about Iggy, his surgery and his after-thoughts, and his fans obviously still loved him, no matter what!
Iggy was so astounded by just the simplest things around him; it was such an adorable scene to watch. He was captivated the birds sitting on the lawn, joggers taking their dogs for a run (Particularly the really busty one that lived just a few blocks away who only wears a sports bra and sweats) and even the television screen, giving off images of that we see every single day.
To Iggy, though, it meant so much more.
Now, though, I seem to have realized why Iggy wanted to undergo the corneal transplant surgery so much.
To us, we have luxuries that we can enjoy. Examples? Television shows, songbirds in trees, the beach, and the light-illuminated streets packed with people. Yet, we often take them for granted. We always see them, so we never take a hold of it.
We don't know what we've got till it's gone, simply put.
For Iggy, however, every single thing comes as a gift. Song birds, as annoying as they are to us, became beautiful melodies for Iggy, the drum kit mystified him to the extent he took a feather duster to wipe off all of the dust due to a lack of care for it, and of course, as a regular guy with regular male hormones, spying on busty goddesses jogging throughout the neighbourhood became a regular pastime of his. The ability to see is such a mysterious force that it transformed him completely!
Enough of my reflection though…
It has been approximately one week since his surgery, and his vision has improved dramatically. I mean, of course, he was able to see, but his vision was blurred. With time, however, his vision should improve drastically.
"I'd like to make a fact clear," Iggy said one evening as I helped him put the steroid eye drops away.
"Really? And what's that?" I asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.
"That I don't regret getting the surgery at all." I only smiled, shaking my head. "Obviously not. All you like to talk about nowadays during dinner time is how that jogger possibly has Double D breasts!"
"Hey, don't describe me so terribly to the extent that I sound like a horny pervert." He said seriously, making the whole situation even funnier.
"But admit it, Iggy; you are a horny, horny male in need of pleasure." I said matter-of-factly.
"Am NOT!"
In a matter of moments, we were engaged in a tickling battle.
"STOP IT!" I said, my stomach cramping due to the inability of giggling as well as coughing at the same time.
"Then admit that I am NOT a pervert! Take all of it back!"
This would have been fun except for several things…
Iggy accidentally pecked my cheek. When I mean peck, I don't mean the "chicken" kind of peck, but the placing-his-lips-on-my-cheek kind of peck.
At the same time, we turned our heads at the same time, so our lips were only about…a rough estimate…of one inch away from each other's.
Right, right, one more thing if the whole situation could not turn any worse: His hands, elongated and pale, found their way up to my chest. I could literally feel Iggy's heart pounding; yes, it was THAT strong.
And his eyes widened in shock. "A-Ari…I think…you have mountains…erupting…from your um…" He turned bright red now, totally embarrassed.
…
I knew there had to be a reason as to why I didn't want Iggy to get the surgery in the first place!
"Well, on second thought, Iggy…" I said, slowly backing away. "I think my chest erupted volcanoes, so to speak…"
Yep; one of the most brilliant weapons located in my arsenal: Make an awkward joke to get out of the sticky mess.
But I think this was one mess that could not be mopped up, no matter how hard you tried…
DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNNNNNNNNNNN! Yes! Iggy is the FIRST one to discover that Ari, is indeed, a girl! Ooh, more suspense and more drama for me to write. Suh-weet. C:
Anyways, here are the shout-outs to my faithful readers and reviewers of Chapter 9, 10 and 11!
SallSall
Blank
Ari
KC
Faxbeliever02
jahfreenalam
porcupine451
oO2YourBestNightmare3Oo
i'm short
lila18
Call Me Bitter
Keeptappin92
booklover98
alsin
A Well Wisher
Mrs Fangalicious
Ally
Beeni
MidNyteMelody
I Do Not Know Your Name XD
Shayna-18
BlueButterfliesPlayOnMyGuitar
THEYELLOWROSE
deathtobieber
ShadowDweller97
THANK-YOU GUYS! C: You guys are just the most awesome people a writer could ever want, and I couldn't ask for anything else. XDD As always, take care of yourself guys! Make sure to keep warm and stay dry! January is so rainy for me, I'm very upset. AND PFFT, with the "humongous amount of snow we were supposed to expect this year". PFFFFFFFFT! Anyway, I'll try to force myself to update more. (Prays that I will get my off block so I can get opportunities to write more) and hopefully, the delay won't be THIS long!
See you guys again soon!
Luff,
Sam C: