Disclaimer: Ryo Hiraki belongs to Aveza, and can be enjoyed in the story The Center of Everything. He's not my character, and is used with Aveza's gracious permission.
Author's Note: Okay, so I lied last time. Today's chapter is a long, rambling look at a day in the life of Izzy and Amy. We'll get to Sora/Matt and Joe/Mimi next time. While you read, please keep in mind this question... This is very much a laid back post, almost like following Izzy around with a camera as he just goes about his day, and I want to know if you enjoyed it.
VERY IMPORTANT INFO: Unless I change my mind at some point, the next chapter will include mature content. This means that, if you find my story updates by looking at the newest Digimon updates, you WILL NOT SEE the next chapter unless you set your filter to allow mature content. If you want to make sure that you don't miss the rest of my updates, please either follow this story or follow me. Otherwise, you'll only find future updates if you set your search filter to allow mature content, or if you manually check my profile. Thanks, and enjoy this update :)
Izzy flew up a level of stairs in the dorm, hardly seeing where he was going. Was it possible that his answers could be so close? Was it moral to receive them from Mimi, rather than from Amy? One question can't hurt, his fevered mind seemed to whisper. If she doesn't want to say anything, then that will be the end of it.
He wandered through the hallway, certain that Mimi had mentioned her room number over a group dinner in the cafeteria at some point, but he, of course, had not been listening. If memory served, he had been scribbling on a napkin, his head bent beside Amy's, her long hair tickling his nose as he showed her how to work a calculus problem. At least he had caught her floor number.
Mimi wasn't a very common name, so he knocked on the first door labeled with it, not really realizing that his eyes were wild and that his mad dash had already drawn a few beads of sweat to his forehead. A stranger opened the door, worked her eyes over him, and sighed. "Mimi," she called over her shoulder, sounding deeply annoyed. "There's another lovestruck boy for you."
A dainty, musical laugh drifted from within the room, and Izzy knew at once that he had the right place. I wonder if Joe is aware of how much competition he has, Izzy wondered darkly. Is the kind of thing that I should inform him of, or is it kinder to say nothing? But those thoughts would have to wait; Mimi was approaching her door.
"Izzy! What are you doing here, looking half crazy?" she cried, spreading her arms and filling the portal with her body. The sun was beginning to set behind her, flooding yellow-orange light into her room, providing seraphic backlighting for her to stand in. But, for once, he allowed her her theatrics without mental comment.
"I watched the DVD. Thank you for lending it to me. But, I wanted to ask... Did you watch it to its completion?" Mimi blinked, then glanced back into her room.
"Natasha, I'll be back in a few," she said, slipping her feet into a pair of girlish, flower-adorned sandals waiting by the door. Izzy stepped back, giving her room to get by him and into the hallway.
"I assume we're going back to my room," Izzy said, leading the way to the stairwell, "given the sensitive nature of this topic." Mimi sighed, an unusually somber sound, by her standards, then nodded. She stayed quiet until they were seated opposite each other in his room, he in his desk chair, and she in Joe's.
"You want to know about Jerry," she said bluntly. Izzy closed his eyes, and his fingers gripped the top of his chair's backrest.
"I do. Amy seems unable to say much on the topic, although I haven't directly asked her about it. But what I have heard was cause for concern."
"She said something about it to you?!" Mimi cried, half standing. She suddenly looked incensed. "I can't- but she never- she hasn't said anything to me!" Izzy's stomach sank, both because it seemed that Mimi lacked the information he wanted, and because she was angry now. The last thing he needed was for her to grow jealous and hurt because Amy had let something slip at the skating rink. He hastened to say something soothing.
"I think it was an accident on her part. A slip of the tongue. She certainly looked taken aback after she spoke. But all she really said was that the relationship ended badly, although the context suggested that it ended very badly."
Mimi sighed, then slowly sank back into her seat. "Well... I don't really know what happened, either. I do know that Jerry was on Tai's soccer team. They were friends, not good friends, but, you know, they got along and could chat and hang out. I think Jerry asked Amy out in February of senior year, but Amy said no. We were all like, 'Whaaaaaaaat, no, Amy, go on a date, have some fun!' because, you know, she never dated or said she liked anyone or took a break. Her whole life was school, drama club in the spring, and supporting Tai and Matt, and their siblings. And Tai vouched for Jerry left and right, since he knew him from soccer, and he was a good guy. Everyone had nothing but good things to say about him, other than that he was kind of a clown."
Izzy could feel the muscles in his face tightening, and he hoped Mimi couldn't see it. He knew exactly the kind of pressure that Tai, Matt, and Mimi had exerted on Amy. Everyone in this world seemed to think that teens and young adults should follow a copy-and-pasted life style. If a young person wasn't surrounded by a mass of friends, if they didn't spend every free moment on the phone or doing something social, then there was something wrong with them, something that required fixing. He and Amy weren't that kind of creature. They liked solitude and quiet. To them, one real friend was worth twenty, a hundred, a thousand of the kinds of friend a high school photo album was filled with, the kind that bled out of your life as soon as you walked off of the auditorium stage with your diploma. Introversion was character trait, not a character fault in need of fixing, so long as there was someone in your life that you loved.
But that was an old tirade, one that had no place being spoken now, so he focused back in on Mimi, who was still speaking. "We kept bugging her about it, and when he asked her again about a month later, she said yes. Of course, I grilled her for the details over the phone, but she never had much to say about it. We went to the movies. We had dinner. He told this really funny joke, I can tell you, but he tells it better. That sort of thing."
Mimi broke off for a moment, staring at the cinder block walls. And, somehow, for the first time during their acquaintance, he knew exactly what she was thinking. She felt guilty; it was evident in the slumping of her shoulders, in the slight moistening of her eyes. "I should have known there was a problem," she said, crossing her arms and staring at the ceiling. "Amy likes telling stories. And she kind of has a way with words." Her eyes flicked to him, and a tiny smile tugged at her lips. "Now that I think about it, she talks about you way more than she ever talked about him- seriously, it's always 'Izzy this, Izzy that,' -and you're not even dating."
Izzy gave her a dull, bovine stare as he absorbed her words. He could feel himself coloring faintly, so he turned his face away from her, then began to speak, making a point of ignoring her last sentence, not allowing his mind or his voice to wrap their way around it. "I've certainly found her to be of a witty, descriptive bent."
Mimi frowned and tossed her hair, looking annoyed at his decision to ignore her teasing. Then she sighed and continued with the main point of their discussion. "Yeah. So, it was weird that she always gave me the cliff notes, you know? But I figured she was being shy, so I let it go. But, then, seeing that video... It seems like she was uncomfortable with him."
Temper, ragged and boiling, instantly kicked up in his stomach, and the fabric of his chair's backrest indented deeply as his hands clenched around it. "He was being far too physical with her," he said critically, speaking in a tone that implied that this was an obvious fact. "She didn't want to be picked up. She didn't want to be kissed, especially not in front of a camera. And, if I'm following the time line you're providing, this video was shot within two months of the start of their relationship. That isn't much time for her to grow comfortable with him, to ease into physical contact."
"Oh, Izzy! Two months is forever for a high school relationship! And she was already eighteen! It's not like they were little freshmen. A kiss and a hug is nothing to get upset about." Mimi sighed and ran her fingers through her hair in an agitated way, then settled a lock of it behind her ear. "I don't understand why she's always been so uncomfortable with being touched."
"Amy is too mature to measure a relationship with an arbitrary 'high school' ruler," Izzy snapped. "And, clearly, this Jerry didn't know how to respect her boundaries. If they bothered him, then he should have either resigned himself and been patient or broken up with her." He threw himself out of his chair and began to pace around the room, too worked up to remain calmly seated. Mimi's eyes widened as they followed his blind prowl around the room, but he didn't register that he was behaving strangely.
Mimi held her hands up, palm out. "Look, don't get all hissy at me. I don't know what happened, Izzy, I wasn't there, and she won't talk to me. I hate it when she won't talk to me!" She broke off for a moment and seethed. "What I can tell you is that they broke up right after prom, although I didn't hear about it until mid June. Amy dropped off the grid entirely for a few weeks. I was starting to get frantic when Matt finally picked up one of my calls. I asked Amy about it, but she wouldn't spill, she just said they broke up. I couldn't bring myself to keep asking. She sounded so hurt, I figured he cheated on her- the bastard! -or something like that, and that she didn't want to talk about it. And Tai and Matt keep saying that it's her business."
No, Izzy thought, staring at the floor. If that boy cheated on her, she would have been upset, but gotten over it before too long. She didn't entirely trust him in that video, and that was probably only a week or two prior to prom. That indicates that she was never all that close to him. Something else happened. I'm certain.
But Mimi didn't know what it was, and that did not bode well. He could only imagine the kind of pressure Mimi would have put on Amy to try and get her to talk to her about it. If she wouldn't tell her, then who would she have told?
Tai knew. That much was obvious from the hints he had dropped when he was threatening him. But the bruises on Izzy's neck and shoulders weren't entirely healed yet, and he had no desire to provoke further damage. And that left just one person within his reach. He had hardly spoken to Matt so far this semester, although from what he had seen of him from cafeteria dinners with Amy's group and Joe suggested that he was a decent guy, if a bit arrogant. Perhaps it was time to start subtly improving that relationship… But, then, if they wouldn't tell Mimi, then they probably wouldn't tell him. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it would really be simpler to just speak to Amy, but he had no idea how to broach so sensitive a topic. And, even if he did, he was fairly certain that she wouldn't open up to him. Not yet.
A sudden movement right in front of his eyes had him gasping and looking up. Mimi was standing over him, scowling and waving her hand in his face. "Izzy! Geez, I've been trying to get your attention for the last minute. You shouldn't ignore people who are trying to talk to you!"
"I apologize," he said automatically. "I'm concerned about her. I realize that it's none of my business. And, at any rate, this event is over and done with, and it might be best to let the proverbial sleeping dog lie. However…" His anger dripped out of him, replaced with regret and a deep sadness, as he recalled all of the times that he had watched fear, uncertainty, and pain flit through Amy's expressive eyes. He leaned his back against the hard, cold wall and tipped his chin into his palm, staring vacantly about the room, seeing nothing. "The damage is lingering. It's clearly evident. I can't help but wonder if there's something I can do to help her." He ran his fingers through his short hair, pulling it slightly in his frustration. "If I only knew… How am I supposed to function usefully without the appropriate information?!"
Mimi looked at him, eyes slightly wide, for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, she stood and came over to him, invading his personal space, and his mind immediately went to the last time she had done this. If he could have, he would have edged away, but he was trapped against the wall. At least there were no potential torture devices in his room, but, then, Mimi seemed to be more creative about such things than he was. Her hands closed around his shoulders, and she leaned in towards him.
"You will ask her out, right, Izzy?" she said quietly. "I've never heard her talk about someone the way she talks about you. I've never seen her trying so hard to connect with someone. I know I give you a hard time, but… I think you already are helping her, and that's pretty amazing."
Izzy was mute for a moment, unable to digest her sudden kindness and seriousness, unsure if he trusted her claim that Amy's interest in him was in any way special. He tried to brush it off, but the words lingered within him, battering down his normal tendencies to deflect, to withdraw. When he finally averted his eyes, made a hard, disinterested expression, and produced a noncommittal sound, it was only a vain effort to save face. Mimi already knew that her words had made their intended impact; that much was evident in her small, hopeful smile.
She patted his shoulders with something like affection, turned, and flounced out of the room.
Another Day
Izzy stepped out of the math building, where he had just finished a class, and scanned the surrounding area. He, Amy, and Joe had made lunch plans last night, and Amy had agreed to meet him here after his period ended. He spotted her sitting on a bench nearby. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tipped back, placing her face directly in the path of the harshest sunlight. It was getting on towards late October, and the temperature seemed to drop a little each day, which might have explained her sudden desire for the warmth of the sun. She's sunbathing, he realized. Then her lips curved into an absent smile, and Izzy smiled automatically in return, although of course she wasn't smiling at him. And, knowing her, likely daydreaming, as well.
He approached her bench and sat on the far edge, not wanting to startle her with his voice or his nearness. But she didn't react to the shifting of the weathered wood below her, so he leaned in closer. "Amy?" he said softly.
"Mmm?" she replied, her tone dreamy, distant, and lilting. Her head tipped towards him, and her eyes opened lazily. She glanced at him with unfocused, heavily-lidded eyes. Izzy frowned slightly, finding himself worried about her. Did she always wander around in an oblivious haze? If so, she might endanger herself. His hand twitched towards her at the thought, as if to shield her, and his fingers grazed her cheek. Her skin was incredibly warm with the touch of the sun.
Her expression immediately began to sharpen with awareness, and Izzy withdrew, slightly baffled by his own behavior. She blinked, then stretched her upper body like a cat rising from a nap. "Hi, Izzy," she sighed, and her voice dripped with contentment and relaxation.
"Good afternoon," he returned. "It's nice to see you so at ease after your exam preparations." He paused, unsure of whether he should scold her for spacing out so much in public, or whether he should indicate that he was slightly hurt by the way she had cloistered herself with Joe all last week and shut him out. Then his face tightened at the thought; no, that was nothing to him. Her method of approaching her school work was her business, and he wasn't interested in the matter.
"Mmm!" The sound was a high-pitched, pleased squeak that popped out of her of its own volition, at least as far as he could tell. It was heavy with pleasure, clearly resulting from the feeling of stretching her body out. She was arching her back and grasping the back of the bench, working out the stiffness that had built up during her wait. Izzy scooted closer, his dark eyes riveted to the curve of her back. Then he realized what he was doing, colored, and fixed his glance on her face.
"Listen, Izzy," she said, straightening out and lifting her hands to her shoulders. She slipped them beneath the neckline of her dress, lifting the fabric slightly and giving him a glance at the pale, creamy skin underneath. Her hands proceeded to rub her shoulders and the base of her neck, and her face contorted with pain once or twice as she located and worked on problem areas. Izzy found himself wondering if she would accept some assistance, then fought the urge to slam his forehead into his palm. "I'm sorry I was so uptight. I get like that sometimes, when I'm preparing for something. I hope I didn't annoy you too much."
Izzy averted his glance, feeling undecided on where to take his answer. He didn't want his words to indicate hurt or criticism, but he was also mysteriously unable to let the subject go with no comment. "It's difficult for you to annoy me when you're not in my company," he said carefully.
Amy started abruptly, then stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Her eyes fixed onto his, and he fought down a sigh. They had that knowing, far-off expression in them, and he always felt as though he had been transported to some kind of wild, lawless wonderland when she looked at him like that. His hands found the edge of the bench and clung, as if to ground himself in the real world.
"Izzy..." she said at last. "I honestly thought you'd be relieved if I left you alone for a little while. You're someone who likes his space, and I always worry that I'm imposing." For a moment, her hands wrung in her lap, creating slight bulges in the fabric of the skirt of her dress. Then she glanced away from him, and one of her palms caressed her cheek.
"You're not." The words rushed out, as if his mind was trying to get them in the open before he checked them. For a moment, it was difficult to keep his face clear of his frustration with himself, but then she smiled at him, and he forgot about it. "And, if you insist on thinking that you're imposing... Then, fine, impose away. I'm disposed to indulge you." He cleared his throat and stared at the sidewalk, as if it were massively interesting. "I would be much obliged if, in return, you... You set aside some time for me when you're preparing for exams."
He could feel the weight of her gaze, but he kept his eyes firmly on the concrete. Then she scooted closer, and her fingers closed gently around his upper arm. "I'm really sorry, Izzy. If you had said something earlier, I would have... I'm sorry. I didn't realize... You missed me?"
Izzy's mind began to scramble, tripping all over itself in an attempt to provide an answer that was both safe and soothing. His heartbeat pounded like a drum, primal and fast and loud, and it seemed a wonder that she didn't hear it. He opened and closed his mouth, but he still had nothing to say that didn't say too much. In the end, he produced an uncomfortable grunt and ran his fingers briefly over hers. Then, summoning his courage, he glanced at her, too curious about her reaction to resist. It wasn't exactly the world's suavest maneuver, and he was concerned that he might have offended her.
She was smiling shyly, and her free hand was toying endlessly with her long hair. "I'm hungry," she said brightly, obviously changing the subject. "Joe should be on his way to the student union. We should get going."
"As you will," he said slowly, standing up, pausing to help her rise with him. She continued to hold on to him as they walked, and, somehow, Izzy knew that she had understood him, and, perhaps, had even understood his difficulties with expressing himself. And that understanding was such a rarity, such a welcome relief that he hardly knew how to digest it. He trotted at her side in something of a daze, unable to really think about anything.
For a few minutes, he nodded at appropriate intervals as Amy's chirping voice sounded pleasantly above him, hearing the words without taking in their meaning. Then, a hand landed on his shoulder with jarring force, and his stride broke. Amy's grip tightened around his arm.
Izzy turned to see a tall, thin boy standing behind him. Something seemed to sour in his stomach as he recognized him. It was Michael, a boy from his high school, one of Shauna's friends. He had doleful, light blue eyes, slightly obscured from view by large, thick-rimmed glasses. His black hair was shaggy and messy around his weak chin and shallow cheeks, and, as ever, he seemed to have exactly a day's worth of scruff on his face. He wore a plaid button down, a green cardigan, and curiously tight, weathered blue jeans.
"Ah, I thought it was you, Scarecrow," he said, and his voice was every bit as mournful as Izzy remembered, even as he smiled playfully with those oddly pale lips. Izzy felt a muscle twitch in his face at the sound of that nickname, and he glanced at Amy automatically, dreading the fact that she has just heard it. She was tipping her head quizzically and glancing between the two of them.
They were holding up foot traffic, so Izzy allowed himself to be led out of the way by the sweet girl attached to his arm, the girl who could potentially be learning some things he would desperately prefer remain hidden at this point. Despite the slight nip to the air, he was suddenly much, much too hot.
There was a pause, as Izzy refused to answer to Scarecrow, and Michael seemed to entirely expect him to. Finally, Amy's other hand joined her first around his arm, and she moved her body closer to his. "Are you talking to Izzy?" she asked politely, pointing her big brown eyes at Michael.
"I'm trying to," he replied, raising a brow and stuffing his long, spindly hands into the pockets of his cardigan. As usual, he fell into a slumping posture, as if he were straining below the weight of the world, like Atlas. And, with that thought, Izzy realized how much Amy's constant prattle about Greek and Roman mythology had leaked into his brain.
"It might help to use his name," Amy said, and there was an odd strain in her tone that Izzy had never heard before.
"What?" Michael asked, tossing his head slightly to get the hair out of his eyes. "We called him Scarecrow in high school." He frowned and slid his eyes back to Izzy's. "This your new girlfriend?" he asked, smiling slightly and shaking his head. Pure panic dropped like a stone down Izzy's spine, spreading ripples out and over the rest of his body. No, no, no, no! he chanted in his mind. He wanted to grab Amy and run, but there seemed to be some disconnect between his inner world and outer world, as if he were in a dream where he was being pursued, but was unable to move.
"Why would you call him Scarecrow?" Amy asked, ignoring the rest of what he had said. "I assume it's not because he needs a brain, because that's just silly."
Michael cracked a smile, then raised an eyebrow. "Can't you tell? Just take a look at him."
Amy turned her eyes to him, and Izzy felt like a deer in headlights, entirely unable to do anything about the impending impact. He watched their slow, thoughtful progress over his frame, starting at his forehead, working down, and then back up. Finally, she put her hands on her hips and shook her head.
"I don't see it," she said, and Izzy was finally able to pinpoint why her voice sounded strange. It was laced with that odd buzzing undertone that he had heard in Tai's voice right before he completely lost his temper. Izzy stared at her in astonishment, wondering if she, too, was capable of that kind of explosion. But he tried to push those thoughts away, because she was still speaking, and every word was important, could potentially reveal vital information.
"What I do see," she continued, "is a sweet, intelligent, gentle man. And I would much rather continue our conversation than carry on this one with you, so... If you'll excuse us, we'll be on our way." And then she took hold of his arm and half-pulled him back onto the sidewalk, so swiftly that Izzy didn't stand a chance of observing Michael's reaction.
He was shocked for the first few steps, and probably would have stood completely still, like an actual scarecrow, if Amy weren't dragging him along with her. Then, his faculties returned, and he found himself almost jogging beside her. She was breathing a little hard, and her muscles seemed to be stiff and set, causing her feet to fall even more heavily than usual. She was practically stamping and snorting. Izzy put his hand on hers and tried to think of a way to soothe her, and the contact seemed to break through whatever mood was riding her. She turned her face to him, blinked, and stepped away from him, breaking his loose hold, shifting instantly into nerves and anxiety.
"Oh, stars," she breathed, raking her fingers through her hair. "Was that your friend? Was I just a total bitch to one of your friends? I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me, I just... I'm so sorry! I can go back and apologize- I'll go back and-"
"Amy, stop," Izzy said, reaching for her hand. His fingers closed around it, and he was faintly surprised to find that, despite her being half a foot taller than him, her hands were smaller than his. He looked up into her pale, drawn face and tried to smile reassuringly, but he still felt too raw, and he could tell that his lips had hardly twitched upwards. "He wasn't my friend. No one who refers to me in that manner is my friend. Please, calm down." He was too overwhelmed to really notice that he was squeezing her hand and crowding her, slipping further into her personal space than he ever had before. His thumb ran continually over her knuckles, but he wasn't sure if it was a nervous twitch on his part, or if he was trying to soothe her.
He didn't know what to think. For one, he was worried now that the old nicknames that had been Shauna's parting gift to him in high school would follow him here. He should have known better than to come here, so many people in their area went here, but the full scholarship, including room and board, had been too tempting, and he wanted to be near his parents. Furthermore, he had been shadowed by Shauna's crushingly descriptive gossip for about a year and a half now, and this was the first time someone had objected, had replaced cruel words with kind ones. His grip tightened on her hand.
"Thank you," he said softly, wishing he had a better way to explain what her defense had meant to him.
She exhaled slowly, and the tenseness slipped out of her body by degrees. "Ah. I'm glad that guy wasn't your friend. He seems like a self-satisfied jerk… Not that I can really know, but…" Her mouth curved into a deep frown. "Why would he call you Scarecrow? I still don't get it."
Izzy raised an eyebrow. The jibe had made immediate sense to him the first time he heard it. "It's a remark on my frame." She stared at him blankly, so he held his other arm out to her. He was very scrawny; she didn't know, having never seen him shirtless, but his ribs were clearly visible, as were the sliding motions of his slight muscles beneath his skin when he moved. That had apparently been repulsive to Shauna, which he always found uncharitable and hypocritical, as she was also slight.
She huffed and looked away. "People amaze me," she muttered. "Too fat, too skinny, too short, too tall, too pale… What they should really be worrying about is how shallow they are, how they have nothing better to do than sit around and think about other people's bodies. I think you're fine." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, which was fortunate for Izzy, because it was tickling his face.
"Any dang way," she continued brightly, as if to brush off that entire encounter, "I'm soooo hungry. Let's hurry and get to the student union already, Joe is probably tapping his feet and looking at his watch every two seconds."
Izzy couldn't help but smile. "He almost certainly is." His fingers tightened around hers, and her hand twitched. She glanced down, then stared at their connected hands. Nerves began to thrum through Izzy's body as he realized that she had been too upset to notice before now. He cleared his throat and stepped awkwardly back from her, releasing her as he went. He had no idea if he should say something, perhaps apologize, but he was too flustered to string something together. Instead, he picked up his pace, so that he was constantly a step in front of Amy. Running away, he thought bitterly. Fleeing from one who would defend me. What's wrong with me?
"Slow down," Amy cried, and he was surprised to hear the suppressed laughter in her voice. "I won't starve to death in the next ten minutes. You don't need to run." She jumped forward so that she was beside him again, then slid her fingers against the inside of his elbow.
Izzy had no idea if she was really that clueless, or if she was charitably pretending that nothing had happened. It could honestly go either way, given what he knew of her. Regardless, his emotions settled down as she pulled him towards her and startled to prattle about a story Tai had told her. He listened, indulging himself in the musical sound of her voice, grinning with true amusement as, with sister-like glee and affection, she described silly, embarrassing things the soccer player had done.
It was about a ten minute walk, but they were at the student union as fast as blinking.
A Few Minutes Later
Izzy was sitting at a table with Joe in the incredibly crowded student union food court. Normally they ate in the cafeteria, where they could use their meal points instead of cash, but Joe and Amy wanted to celebrate a little after their first midterm, which apparently meant eating fast food. He and Joe had gotten their food quickly, but apparently Amy's fast food restaurant of choice was popular, because she was still standing at the back of a line in the distance. They were in a corner table, pressed up against cushy seats where students sat reading books. Every chair was taken, as was every table, and still more students sat directly on the carpeted floor below the armchairs. The din of chattering students was unbearable.
"Did she mention her test score to you?" Joe asked, glancing towards Amy. Izzy shook his head. In truth, he had wondered about it, but she hadn't offered the information, so he hadn't asked. Joe reached for his duffel bag. "I asked her to lend it to me. Let me show you."
"Why would you want to borrow her test?" Izzy asked. He speared a piece of lettuce with his fork and twisted it around. As usual, he wasn't particularly interested in the food in front of him.
Joe snorted, opened a folder, removed a paper, and sat it in front of him. "That would be why," he said, poking the red numbers at the top of the test. Izzy frowned at the score and picked up the exam.
"110%?" he read, speaking into the paper, as if it would offer some sort of explanation in return. "But that seems a tad… excessive. Wasn't the test difficult?"
"The average was a 65. I got an 87. She's really smart, Izzy. Go ahead, read some of her short answers." Izzy met Joe's eyes, intending to ask what the point of that would be, but something about his friend's expression convinced him to simply obey. He flipped through the pages, then quickly read a few remarks. Her answers were incredibly thorough, and written in smooth, thoughtful, concise language, the kind that took most people a great deal of time to achieve, if they ever could at all.
"She has a well-organized, creative mind, and an extremely strong handle on language," he summarized, placing the test back on the table. "And she's a quick thinker."
"But she struggles with calculations and logic, or, at least, that's what she keeps insisting. Whenever I praise her, she tries to brush it off or point out her weak spots. I wonder what that's about?"
"That much I'm familiar with," Izzy said, sighing. "And you should be, too. People often react harshly when presented with evidence that someone is intellectually superior to them. She's attempting to ward off that reaction by downplaying her talent."
"Well, the numbers speak for themselves." Joe put the test away and zipped up his bag. "Don't you see how good for you Amy is? She's smart. She could keep up with you. I don't think she's particularly into computers or math, but she would listen to you if you wanted to talk about them, and she could make sense of it if you took the time to explain. I know you often have to translate your thoughts into something simpler so other people can follow you. You wouldn't have to do that with her. You-"
Izzy stemmed Joe's flow of words with a sharp, annoyed hand gesture. "I'm not interested. And, besides, it's not as if I can just ask her to be with me because someone tells me that we're compatible. There's no evidence to suggest she's interested in me romantically." He began to dig into his salad fiercely, never actually taking a bite, savagely puncturing the greens with his fork. Why was everyone trying to get involved in his love life? He didn't want a love life. That's it, he thought darkly, drowning a bit of lettuce in a pool of dressing. I need to downplay my relationship with her. I can't completely cut it off, the way I did previously, but there needs to be some change. I need to see less of her.
Memories of the previous week played forcibly through his brain, reminding him of how he felt when she had gently turned him away to study. He spent the week almost entirely alone, which normally would have been bliss. But, instead of enjoying it, he had found the quiet unbearable, the stillness stifling. He spent his evenings on his computer, frequently checking the time, wishing that he was playing a video game in Amy's room, shooting things while she strummed her guitar and chattered. He almost got up and joined Amy and Joe in the library a few times, but somehow the thought offended his pride. After continually emphasizing to himself and the people around him that there was nothing special about his relationship with Amy, he didn't want to chase after her at the first signs of her diverting her attention elsewhere.
But he couldn't deny that he had strongly desired to do so.
Joe broke through those thoughts with an exasperated sound. "Izzy," he breathed, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. "Please. You like Amy. She likes you. Why do you keep insisting that there's nothing there?"
"Because there isn't." Izzy pressed the words out through gritted teeth.
A mellow baritone voice floated to the table, and Izzy turned instinctively towards the sound. "Pardon me, but… I beg to differ." Izzy shared a quick look with Joe, then turned his attention to the boy addressing them. He was sitting in one of the cushy armchairs nearby, with a massive textbook open across his lap. Izzy's glance immediately fell on a pair of placid blue eyes.
Like him, the stranger was redheaded, but the hue was lighter than his, and his cut was longer. His bangs fell into his eyes, and he absently swept them out, splaying them across his regal forehead. His nose was long and pointed, and his lips were thin and flat. He held his body straight and motionless, and his expression was entirely neutral, so that he almost seemed like a fixture in the room, rather than a living person.
Izzy had no idea how to respond to his interruption, so he stared blankly at him. But apparently his glance was enough of an invitation to continue, because the boy tapped a finger against his textbook, then continued to speak. "I happened to notice your group earlier, mostly because the girl with you was speaking with such animation. I know it's rude, and I do apologize, but your behavior was too interesting for me to ignore it." He paused for a moment, then automatically straightened the collar of his crisp button down shirt. "My name is Ryo Hiraki. I study psychology," he added, as if this gave him license to eavesdrop.
"Indeed," Izzy said blandly. He finally took a bite of his salad, using it as a prop for something to do, because he was utterly baffled by this encounter. He didn't give his name in return, as that would imply that this was a normal conversation, which it most definitely was not.
Those thin lips twisted into a wan smile. "Yes. And I notice you claim that there's no romantic interest between yourself and this girl- Amy, I believe you said."
Izzy continued to stare at him, not bothering to hold back the grimace forming on his face. Just what he needed- a complete strange telling him how he felt, another person trying to dictate and interpret his actions. Didn't these people have anything else to do? "And I assume you have an alternate theory to propose," he said, allowing his annoyance to flow through his tone. He speared a slice of radish and crunched it noisily in his mouth.
"Now, now," the stranger said, steepling his fingers and leaning towards them. "Settle down. I'm trying to help you."
"Kindly get in line," Izzy muttered. His eyes roved over the other boy's slim frame, as if to find some weak spot that would cause him to go away. All he noticed was the logo sewn onto his button down. It was the insignia of another school in the state, a prestigious one where students paid three times as much for the same quality of education as the one received here. Izzy's heavy brow furrowed.
The boy's eyes flicked towards his lap, and his hand twitched, as if he were longing to take notes. Izzy took the opportunity to shoot a disgruntled look at Joe, but he, curse him, looked amused. Confused and surprised also, but mostly amused. Damn it, Izzy thought, dropping his chin into his palm.
"Her body language is much more telling than yours," the boy continued, as if there had been no objections, "so we'll begin there. She leans towards you whenever you speak, and constantly scans your face, doubtlessly hoping to see that you're entertained. Her eyes follow you across the room. Even now, with her attention focused on waiting for her order to come up, she continually glances in this direction. Before your group split up to order, I noticed that she angles her body towards yours at all times, and that she automatically mimics your idiosyncratic gestures, such as the way you make a fist and press the knuckle of your pointer finger against your chin. Furthermore, you have a very distinctive way of speaking, and she's adopted some of your word choice and syntax. I assume she didn't have the habit of saying 'as you will' before she met you. These are all signs of deep respect and regard. And I hope I don't have to explain the significance of her constant desire to be in physical contact with you." He nodded to himself and ran a single finger down the page of his textbook. "The evidence in favor of her being romantically interested in you is overwhelming."
And he delivered this entire speech in a detached, gentle monotone, as if he wasn't saying anything remarkable, as if he hadn't just dipped his fingers into the lives of strangers and accurately pulled out and analyzed specific details. Izzy's annoyance began to morph into shock and something close to awe. Some of those comments had been a little too apt for comfort.
"That's… That's amazing," Joe sputtered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the table. The stranger began to smile faintly, but his lips straightened back out as he continued.
"You're much more subtle," he said, nodding at Izzy. "The most obvious sign of your interest in her is, contrarily, the vehemence with which you deny that interest. And it's not just what you say. You grow upset when confronted with a claim that you have feelings for her, which I've seen in the way you've been pulverizing your salad, in how your muscles tighten, in the way you close off your posture. Defensive, unsettled physical twitches." And, with that, Izzy drew back in his seat, and his teeth began to grind. Then he grimaced and forced himself to sit calmly, to deny this man the signals he was pointing out.
"Furthermore, you continually place your body between her and the nearest person, subconsciously showing both dominance- this is mine, if you will- and the desire to protect. She pulls back when someone other than you and your friend gets too close, and you try to prevent that fear from rising in her. Your body relaxes when she's close to you, and your body language becomes more open. And, finally, you speak to her in a softer tone than you use with other people. Not conclusive evidence of attachment, perhaps, but strong evidence."
Stay calm, Izzy ordered himself. In truth, he was extremely uncomfortable. He felt raw and naked, as if this boy had just stripped him in the middle of the food court. And, in a way, he had. He fixed his eyes on his tattered salad and took an obscene amount of time selecting his next bite.
"I've upset you," the boy said, adjusting his bangs again. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have said anything, but… She seems like a nice girl, and you only live once. I don't often see such intense signals of affection from a girl; it seems a waste not to notice them." He closed his book and stood. "I won't trouble you further." With that, he nodded politely at them and slipped into the crowd mulling along the edges of the food court, disappearing from view almost immediately.
There was a long silence at the table. Then, Joe frowned and glanced about, looking a bit disoriented. "Did that just happen?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
Izzy sighed, pushed his ruined bowl of salad towards the center of the table, propped his elbow against the surface, and dropped his chin into his palm. "Indeed it did." He was going to say more, but Amy was bouncing towards the table, rapidly moving out of the way of people passing by.
"Gosh, that took forever!" she complained as she fell into the seat beside him. Then she scooted her chair towards him, bent her elbow against the table, and dropped her chin into her palm. Izzy's eyes immediately went to Joe's.
That obnoxious psychology boy was entirely correct.
That Evening
As usual, Izzy was occupied with his computer when a knock on the dorm room's door disturbed him. He glanced over his shoulder at Joe, but he was apparently too absorbed in his orgo textbook to be bothered with trivialities such as visitors. Besides, there was a playful, rhythmic feel to this knock, and Izzy was fairly sure it was for him.
Within moments, a glance through the peephole confirmed his suspicions. His hand rested hesitantly on the doorknob, but he seemed unable to twist it, which would allow Amy inside. So, he thought regretfully, we're back to this. Every shred of evidence indicating that something was building between the two of them made him more nervous, more frustrated. In truth, what he was really feeling was desperate, sickening fear, but he tried not to acknowledge it as such.
"Let her in, Izzy," Joe ordered. His volume was soft, but his tone was not. "I am not watching you do that to yourself- or to her- again."
Izzy instantly felt the muscles in his back tighten and twitch. No. No, he couldn't stomach the thought of hurting her again. But, in an attempt to at least salvage some of his pride, he tried to clear the tension from his body and to speak lightly. "Of course I'm opening it." And then he did just that.
Amy smiled eagerly at him, and he cleared his throat automatically in response. She acted as if she hadn't seen him just a few hours ago at lunch. And, with that thought, his stomach produced a massive growl. He grimaced and stepped back from her, distantly recalling that he had destroyed more of his salad than he had ingested.
Amy blinked at him and slid her eyes to his stomach. "So I guess you haven't eaten yet, then, huh?" she asked. She nibbled her lower lip rapidly, in a way that seemed to suggest that she was fighting down a laugh. He colored slightly with embarrassment. She came closer to him and laid a palm against his stomach, so softly that he wasn't entirely sure if she was actually touching him. "Poor tummy. I don't really know, but I feel like you don't always eat as much as you should? You hardly touched your lunch."
"He forgets to eat half of the time," Joe said, turning away from his book. Izzy grunted his disapproval, fixing the taller boy with a hard look, but Joe gave him a tiny smile in return. "I try to make sure he eats something every day -his mother made me promise to- but I can't watch him all the time. I could use some help."
"Izzzyyy," Amy scolded, pressing her palm more firmly against him. "Your stomach is wriggling. Doesn't that hurt? Stars!" His gut chose that precise moment to rumble again, and Izzy slipped his hands into his pockets to prevent himself from slapping his forehead.
"I would appreciate it if you two wouldn't speak of me as if I were an errant child," he said through gritted teeth. "And Joe is grossly exaggerating. True, I do occasionally forget to eat, but it certainly isn't a daily occurrence. And I eat plenty when I'm at home."
"I would, too, if I were you," Joe said, sighing longingly. "Your mom's cooking is amazing. I can't believe how thin you are. I'd be round as a walrus if I lived at your place."
Amy removed her hand from his stomach and gave her full attention to Joe. "It's really that good?" she asked, sounding impressed. Joe flicked his eyes to Izzy's, and he swallowed roughly, sensing that his friend was about to set him up somehow.
"It really is. You should go home with Izzy some weekend and see for yourself. I'm sure his parents would love to meet you."
At this point, Izzy was openly glaring at Joe and making frantic 'stop it!' hand motions behind Amy's back. First of all, that hint was just too strong; he was fairly sure that you typically didn't bring college friends of the opposite sex home this early in the first semester, not unless you were dating and it was going very, very well. And, secondly, if Joe ever told his mother that he was exhibiting signs of interest in someone at school- which was a distinct possibility, as he and Joe had known each other forever- then his parents would want to know all about it, and wouldn't that be a fun conversation.
"To meet me?" Amy echoed, tilting her head in that bird-like way of hers. "But, why me?"
"Please, pay him no mind, Amy," Izzy said hastily, placing a hand on her upper arm. "He's being facetious. Now, I assume you wanted to go to the cafeteria?"
Amy blinked, looked from him, to Joe, and then back to him, then shook her head slightly. "Uh... Yes. Yeah, I wanted to ask if you wanted to grab something there and come back? Maybe we could play video games? Or we could watch Futurama. Are you hungry, Joe?" She wandered over to his desk, glanced over his shoulder, and grimaced. "Oh, no! Orgo is our next exam, isn't it? I'm gonna get destroyed..."
"You'll be fine," Joe said absently. "I'll help you study. As for dinner..." Joe looked over at Izzy, and the redhead frowned slightly. He could guess Joe's dilemma: Joe was hungry, and he wanted to go with them, but he also wanted the two of them to be alone together. Joe stared down at his open book and sighed, clearly unsure of how to navigate these uncertain waters.
Amy placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in closer to him, and Izzy felt his interest sharpen. With the exception of himself, Tai, and Matt, this was the first time he had seen her intentionally touch a male. He suddenly realized that Amy thought very highly of Joe, as well, and he began to think of all the time they spent together in classes, in labs, and in the library. In fact, she had probably avoided contact with everyone but Joe during her test preparations. A foreign, uncomfortable feeling went through his gut, and it was much more distracting than his hunger. But it was unidentifiable and unfamiliar, so he dismissed it and silently watched their exchange.
"I get it," Amy chirped, crowding Joe's upper back. "You're hungry, but you're in the zone, right? Tell you what, we'll bring something back for you, okay? I can never use all of my meal points anyway, and they just get stolen at the end of every month." Then she straightened abruptly and turned back to him. "Ah, assuming you want to come with me?" she added sheepishly.
"My pleasure." Despite the polite words, there was no graciousness in Izzy's tone. He was too distracted with the troublesome emotions within him. He sighed gustily, wishing with great longing for his old, stoic existence. Joe frowned at him, no doubt a comment on his behavior, but he returned his gaze calmly, providing no reaction.
Amy lost some of her typical animation. She asked Joe what he would like, accepted his thanks with a faint smile, then stepped closer to him. "Alright, then," she said slowly. "Let's go?" The hesitance in her tone caused a surge of repentance to flow through Izzy. Once he put his shoes on and grabbed his student ID, which they swiped to pay for things at the cafeteria, he stood beside her and formally offered her his arm, bent slightly at the elbow. A warm smile softened her face as she accepted. Soon, he was leading her out of the room and towards the elevator.
"You know," Amy said, running her fingers along the inside of his elbow, "I bet we look pretty silly to most people. This gesture kind of went out of style, didn't it?" Izzy produced an indifferent grunt, as he was still distracted, but he backtracked when he realized that she was moving away from him.
"I'm not interested in the opinions of strangers, nor in those of most of my acquaintances. And it isn't as if the gesture is obtrusive. Most people probably take no notice of it. I have no reservations about offering you my arm, unless, of course, you do." He forced a smile, and, although he could feel its brittleness, she returned it.
"I like it," she said, slightly increasing the strength of her grip. "I really do. You're so, so…" She broke off for a moment, head tilted in consideration. "…dashing."
Izzy nearly missed a step in his stride, but, fortunately, was able to stop himself before he pulled both of them down. Amy really didn't need another person pulling her into tumbles and spills. "You're joking," he choked, his voice tightening around the words. He knew exactly what he was: a nerd, straight down to the core, and he was happy with that. And nerds were not dashing. They were generally awkward and antisocial, and, if there were exceptions, he was not one of them.
Amy gave him a confused frown. "Eh? That wouldn't be a very funny joke." He could feel himself narrowing his eyes suspiciously, and he was sure she wouldn't appreciate it, but he couldn't seem to help himself. She huffed and looked away from him. "What. I feel safe when I'm with you. And, you know me, I can be so neurotic… It's nice."
He tried to think of something to say, to reach into his typical store of wit and dry, careless, subject-ending humor, but he had nothing. Well, except for a desire to keep arguing the point, which he knew she wouldn't like. But his need for more information seemed to push the words up and out of his mouth, and he grimaced as he spoke, knowing full well that he was turning a compliment into a mild altercation. "I'm afraid I can't provide you with much safety. I doubt my usefulness in a physical fight would be significantly superior to yours."
"Well, I don't intend to get in a fight any time soon," Amy retorted. "There's more to it than muscle, Izzy." She sighed and turned her eyes towards the sky, where the sun was just beginning to dip towards the earth. "Much more."
"Such as?" Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Just thank her and close the subject. But no, of course he had to keep prying until he knew exactly what she was trying to say. For some reason, this information seemed of utmost importance.
For a moment, she was silent. Then she smiled playfully and briefly patted his shoulder. "Nooope. Sorry. Fishing for more compliments will get you nowhere." Izzy reluctantly returned her grin. Somehow, he knew that she was aware that he wasn't trying to have his ego stroked. She was dodging around the conversation in that swirling, dancing way of hers, passing off her reluctance to continue the subject as feminine mischief. Therefore, her definition of feeling safe was too personal for her to feel comfortable getting into it at the moment.
Izzy briefly passed his free hand through his short hair. There was a faint feeling of awkwardness between them now, and he wasn't sure how to be rid of it. Women, he thought, then scolded himself. He was the one who had made this moment uncomfortable with his prying, not her. Fixing it was his responsibility, but how could he manage it? I suppose there's always reciprocation, he thought, but that will require a bit more earnestness than I'd care to display…
He cleared his throat and resigned himself to the situation. "I…" he began, but his voice trailed off awkwardly, his voice rising from its typical tenor monotone to a harsh, grating squeak. He tsked and looked away, embarrassed by the unattractive, uncomfortable sound he had produced.
"You…?" Amy prodded, tilting her head. The movement made him turn towards her. The sight of her cocking her head like a spaniel, the image complete with her huge brown eyes and silken, dark hair, eased some of the discomfort in his chest. His lips curved upwards of their own volition.
"I feel significantly lighter of heart when I'm with you." And then the words were out in the open, entirely beyond his ability to retract or alter them. He knew that statement wouldn't seem like much to most people, but it had his palms sweating. He was suddenly grateful for her preference for holding onto his arm, rather than his hand.
A soft, shy smile appeared on her face, and Izzy's eyes were drawn to her full lower lip, its decadent shape, its soft, light pink color. She tilted her face away from him, but he could sense her pleasure in the sudden rhythmic sway of her stride.
Their talk gradually turned to other, more commonplace topics as they walked, but that subtle warmth between them remained.
A Few Minutes Later
The two of them had secured their food and dropped off Joe's portion, and were now making themselves comfortable in Amy's room. "I know I have Halo 4 around here somewhere," Amy said as she glanced about, "but where the heck… I bet Tai was in here and tossed it somewhere, ugh, always causing me problems…"
Izzy made an indistinct sound from her desk chair as he watched her. She was moving slowly about the room, swaying her hips in a distracted sort of way, chattering nonstop about possible reasons why the game might have disappeared. "I want to teach you how to play this one… I bet you'd be really good at it, and then we can make a team with Matt and Tai, and we'll kick all kinds of butt!"
"There are different kinds?" Izzy asked lightly, settling into her desk chair and pulling his dinner out of the bag he had carried it back in. The rumbling of his stomach had progressed into a sharp aching sensation, but still, he was more interested in watching her ramble about the room.
"Smartass!" she cried, her tone overflowing with surprised delight. A retort immediately popped into his mind, and he grinned, loving the way they continually, effortlessly set each other up for these sorts of things.
"That is one type, I suppose," he allowed. Peals of snorting laughter cascaded from her lips, and that had him laughing, too. She sounded so ridiculous, he couldn't help himself. She turned to face him, eyes watering with mirth. Then, focus snapped across her face, and she hopped towards her bed, sinking to her knees.
"Awww, whaaaaat, how did it get under here?" she muttered. She pulled a green-rimmed box out and frowned. "No, no, that's Viva Pinata." She tossed the offending article onto her bed. "But there are more way under there… Why are there games under my bed?! Stupid Tai…"
Izzy was beginning to sense that Tai was some sort of catch-all scapegoat for Amy, but, from what he knew of her cousin, there was probably justification for that. "Aww man, they're so far under here," she muttered, shimmying her body for better access to the space beneath her bed. She flattened her upper body against the ground and raised her hips, sticking her head and shoulders below the bed frame.
At first, there were no problems, but then the fabric of her dress hiked up with a sudden movement of her upper body, and Izzy suddenly found himself making an unexpected acquaintance with her tastes in panties. Hot pink, black laced satin was stretched across her generous curves, the saturated hues contrasting deliciously with her alabaster skin. Izzy's brain was instantly abuzz with search-engine like activity, scanning for an appropriate protocol for this situation, but, not surprisingly, nothing useful was forthcoming.
At last, a sane thought broke through his panic and single-minded interest. Stop staring, fool. It's disrespectful. There was a strange, reluctant feeling within him as he positioned the chair towards the desk and opened his dinner, turning his attention to the sandwich. He took a bite, but his mouth was so dry that swallowing it was nearly impossible. With his panic and indecision subsiding, he was slowly becoming aware of other thoughts and emotions, some of them embarrassingly base.
And that, I suppose, is yet another type of ass, he thought ruefully. The humor edged away another layer of discomfort, and suddenly the aroused state of his body was painfully obvious to him. Izzy nearly choked on his food, but was able to sell it as an innocuous cough that caused no reaction from Amy. His mind flopped right back into an uproar. With the exception of the natural, autonomous shifting of blood during sleep cycles, he hadn't been physically aroused for months now, more than a year, actually. It was amazingly uncommon behavior in a boy his age, he knew, but, with the absence of a romantic partner with a talent for taking what she wanted, sexual thoughts weren't interesting to him. Physical pleasure paled in comparison to mental stimulation, and the female body, while beautiful, could not charm him beyond his stoicism on its own. He found Amy's face sweet and attractive, her body lush and alluring, but he had never lingered over those thoughts for long, finding them inappropriate and uninteresting after a brief period.
So what in the world was happening to him now?
"Aha! Found it!" Amy cried, and he could hear her standing and approaching him. He grit his teeth and said a thousand mental thanks for the desk guarding his lap. She placed the game on her bed, then sat down close to the desk. Izzy handed her dinner over, and she thanked him and popped the container open.
He listened to her explain how Halo 4 worked, trying to let her chirping voice calm him. His eyes looked anywhere but into hers, because, on some instinctive level, he knew that they charmed him more than anything else about her. If she noticed the slight trembling of his hands, she gave no indication.
It was getting harder and harder to convince himself that this relationship was platonic. Ryo's mild baritone seemed to echo about in his head, repeating what he had said earlier today. "The evidence is overwhelming… She seems like a nice girl… You only live once."
I would prefer to live on my terms, he thought, somewhat savagely. But it seemed that he was no longer in charge of them.
Author's Note: Okay, flip side! Uh, I don't know how I feel about today's chapter, other than the encounter with Ryo, which I personally found hilarious because I love Ryo's blasé personality. What did you guys think of today's meandering update? Personally, I think I should maybe avoid this in the future... It just felt like it was starting to drag... We'll definitely have lots of excitement in the next update. Please look forward to some Sora/Matt and Joe/Mimi, as well as some rather... interesting distress from Izzy, who, as you might be able to tell, is reaching something of a breaking point within himself. Okay, thanks for reading, please remember what I mentioned about filters and such!