CHAPTER 62: WOLF WATCHER IN THE WOODS
ME: Behold, another glorious new chapter!
BANDIT: Oh boy.
ME: As I promised my amazing friend StarrySky7267—whom y'all should totally check out on DeviantART under starrystarrysky7267 or on FictionPress by the way!—there will be quite a bit of angst in this chapter!
BRICK: Oh, how exciting. *deadpan*
ME: Indeed! I finished this chapter before summer school starts for me so you guys have something to munch on. It is pretty long, after all! Hopefully I can work on the next chapter despite summer school being a thing.
BRICK: You probably deserve to suffer in summer school.
BLOSSOM: Oh, ignore him. Do your best, Kuku.
ME: Got it! Now, Bandit; disclaimer please!
BANDIT: Kuku owns nothing but the story and her OC's, including me...
ME: Now onwards and upwards to the chapter below! *raises arm to point one finger at sky as other hand's finger points down*
BRICK: That literally makes no sense. "Upwards" and "below" are contradictory statements—
ME: *louder, is now yelling* ONWARDS AND UPWARDS AND BELOW! *shakes pointing hands*
Chapter 62: Wolf Watcher in the Woods
"Hello?" he called, stepping out from the hedge maze and into a clearing with a white-gray marble fountain and white-gray marble bench. All of it looked very classy and Greek-themed. The clearing was surrounded by rose bushes and white archways covered in roses.
"Vincent?" another voice called back.
He quickened his pace and reached the edge of the clearing, peering into one of the "lanes" the rose bushes created. It really is like a maze, he thought, following the sound of the person's voice. He saw someone just turning the corner, flying above the maze and looking around, with pumpkin-orange hair and a lovey red bow tied into it. She was wearing a pink dress with a few layers of white-pink frills lining the bottom of the skirt and sleeves. Two bow-ties decorated the bodice.
"Blossom!" Vincent cried, smiling broadly. He threw out his arms. "Welcome to Michael's mansion."
"It wasn't easy getting here," Blossom admitted, landing beside him and leaving behind a rose-pink streak. "I first approached the front gates but the bodyguards there almost killed me. I had to fly off and sneak in."
Vincent smiled, more to himself than anything else. "They wouldn't have harmed you," he said airily, quickly brushing aside the topic of guards. "You're safe as long as you're with me."
She smiled back. "So it's almost 8:00 pm," she started almost shyly. "Is it time for your performance?"
"We have some time until then," he responded, walking over to the bench. A black case sat there, leaning against the marble. "I left my violin here earlier today to make fetching it easier." As he started opening the case, he suggested, "Why don't we talk for awhile? We have ten minutes or so until it hits 8:00 pm sharp."
"Well, okay." Blossom sat down beside him and watched as he carefully handled the violin. "How is the party?" She glanced at the mansion's windows, where lights were glowing. "It looks lively."
"Eh, it's been going alright. We had a terrible DJ though." Vincent looked up at her, gently placing his hand on hers. "I feel a lot better now that you're here."
Blossom blushed and quickly removed her hand from the white-gray marble. "Ah, I'm glad to hear that! I was looking forward to this one-man performance and wouldn't miss it for the world!" She was talking louder than usual, clearly flustered.
Vincent chuckled, amused by how embarrassed she was. "And I'm glad to hear that. I would've been very sad if you hadn't shown up, and I would've been nervous over nothing."
"Nervous? But you seem so confident!" she exclaimed.
"Confidence is something you flaunt. It doesn't matter if you don't have it. If you can fake it, then fake it till you make it"—Vincent averted his green gaze, suddenly looking bitter as he furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw—"or you can take it from a fake."
"Vincent...?" Blossom questioned. "Are you... Are you okay?"
He looked up, appearing as if he'd forgotten she'd been with him. The surprise on her face gave everything away, reminding him of who he was with and how carefully he needed to tread. "I'm fine. Sorry about that. I was just...thinking about something from the past."
"Oh..." Blossom hesitated.
Vincent smiled and checked his watch. "Ah, it's just two more minutes till 8:00! How's about we start?"
"Okay," she said slowly, watching as he stood up.
Adjusting his position and the position of his violin, he began to play. Beautiful, melodic notes sparked from the strings, creating a symphony of notes that cultivated into a beautiful song.
Blossom closed her eyes and listened, letting herself get lost in the music. It sounded like the kind of thing that would play at a party as the guests danced and twirled. She could see herself wearing a pink ball-gown with lace and frills and bows, dancing to the beat with a boy with flaming red hair. He'd look at her and smile, his eyes shining from behind a mask. And those eyes were—
Blossom's eyes snapped open just as the song ended. She blushed, feeing her warm cheeks as the fantasy slipped away from her. Wow, I can't believe it... I...I thought of him in that sequence, she thought, flustered.
Vincent looked up and smiled, setting down the violin and bow. "So...how did you like the performance?" he asked.
"It... It was beautiful," she said quickly, trying to shake the the remnants of her dream behind. "I could imagine myself dancing to that music in a fancy ballroom."
He smiled in amusement. "We could make that happen here, you know," he replied, pointing with his bow at Michael's mansion. "We have a couple ballrooms in there."
"Oh no, no no; that's okay!" she said quickly, flushing red again. "I'd rather stay here and listen to more of your music, if that's okay with you. I-I really like it."
"Well, alright. I would've loved to dance with you though," he stated, picking up his violin again.
As he started to play more lovely music, her imagination continued to think up scenes, which would bloom in her head like spilled ink on a page. And in every scene was a boy with red hair...
Vincent had said he'd loved to have danced with her. Maybe he wasn't too far off after all.
"This is so much fun!" Cassandra called over the music, beaming beautifully as she danced to the beat.
Michael smiled back; her energy was electric and contagious. He hadn't expected to have so much fun at his parents' party; usually he worked hard on looking regal rather than dancing. But somehow Cassandra had roped him into enjoying himself.
Ross watched from afar, confused. Isn't Michael dating Banana...? So what's he doing with her?
Meanwhile, the dark-coloured lights suddenly went off and then the white lights turned on, and in centre stage were Michael's parents. He stopped dancing and sighed inwardly. Here we go, he thought, just as Maggie stepped forward.
"Hello, everyone," she said smoothly, her voice flowing like silk as she approached the microphone. It was hard to ever imagine this small woman as someone who could gouge your eyes out with her high heels. Her vibrant green eyes sparked, surveying the crowd until she could pick out her son and throw out her hand toward him. The spotlights suddenly raced toward Michael and embraced him, causing him to look around. Cassandra had taken a step back into the crowd, watching curiously, and now he was alone on the dance floor—and in centre stage. "Please, a round of applause for Michael and his girlfriend!"
Michael flushed red and groaned inwardly. Cassandra smiled from her place in the crowd, looking amused when he snuck an embarrassed glance at her. The crowd clapped politely.
"Thank you," Maggie said as the applause died down. "As you all know, my son was recently shot by someone who does not deserve to be named or even mentioned"—she spat the last few words out, and everyone thought the same thing: Damon—"and he was unconscious for a great many weeks. But now he is awake and well and my husband and I couldn't be happier! Michael is our beloved child and we love him so very much, which is why his attacker who-shall-not-be-named—that piece of shit—will repay dearly for his crimes. I will personally see to it that his limbs are torn off one-by-one and they get shoved down his throat as I carve out his eyes and stab him with his own blade—"
Chris quickly stepped forward and whispered something in his wife's ears, causing the seething, snarling woman to suddenly calm down. She nodded and took a step back, smiling chillingly at the now-terrified crowd.
Chris, on the other hand, looked as passive as ever. He raised the wineglass in his hand. "A toast," he announced, before bowing his head, "to the safety of my beautiful son and daughter."
Cheers erupted as everyone started clapping, their eyes all glued to Michael. He wished they would all just look away and return to what they were doing. He glanced at Cassandra, who was also clapping, but she was studying him intensely. When she saw his gaze, she raised an eyebrow.
He quickly nodded and bowed regally at the crowd. "Err...thank you, Mother; Father. I am happy to be back." The cheers and clapping grew louder as he quickly stepped out of the centre and returned to Cassandra's side. All the while, the crowd's gaze followed.
But then they returned to their mingling, dancing cliques and Michael could finally relax. He leaned against a table and wiped his brow. "Phew," he said, "I was starting to sweat there."
Cassandra fanned him casually without a second thought, her eyes still studying his face as her mind went elsewhere. "So...I didn't realize you were such a big deal. Or that you'd gotten shot."
He groaned. "Sorry; did that...come off as...too much?"
She smiled, looking amused. "If by too much you mean your mother needs to chill out, then yes. With the way she was talking, you'd think you guys were at war or something. That was too much. But otherwise? Nah; you're cool."
He smiled back gratefully.
"Oh, I'm really thirsty," she declared, tearing her gaze away from his. "My throat is really parched."
"Here, let me get you some punch," he offered, jumping up.
"Thank you!" she called after him.
As he raced to the snacks table, he was stopped by Ross. "Dude, what are you doing?"
"Oh hey, Ross! How's it going?" he asked, too focused on the task of pouring fruit punch into two plastic cups. He picked them up and tried to balance them in his hands as he also snatched a cookie. "I'm starved."
"I'm not surprised," his best friend stated flatly. "You've been dancing all night."
"What's wrong with you? You sound moody," Michael said, flipping the cookie into his mouth and beginning to chew.
"What's wrong with me? What about you?" Ross cried back over the music.
He swallowed the cookie, staring at his friend. "What...are you talking about?"
Ross gestured wildly at Cassandra, who was busy standing near a potted fern and trying out some meat that a butler was offering her. "What are you doing? Who's her? What about Banana?"
"Oh come on, stop worrying so much." Michael folded his arms. "She's just a new friend I made and I'm just trying to be nice. I still love Banana; relax." He began to move away. "Now if you will excuse me—"
"Michael, I'm serious." Ross grabbed his arm, preventing him from going any further. His tone had softened now, as had his emerald-green eyes. "I see the way you look at her. That's not how you look at a friend."
Michael snatched his arm away, flushed red. "What are you talking about? Enough foolishness, Ross! Why are you accusing me of cheating on my girlfriend when you—you can't even decide if you like Sydney or Buttercup!" Ross wilted a little bit. Michael had hit home. He knew he should stop, but he was feeling hot and embarrassed and defensive. "Just leave me be, Ross. There's nothing between Cassandra and me."
"But you have a girlfriend—"
"There's nothing between Cassandra and me!" he snapped.
His friend stopped, wide-eyed, and Michael quickly scurried away back to where the girl was standing. She was now trying out a different kind of meat that a butler was offering her.
She looked up when he approached. She smiled. "What happened to the fruit punch?"
His eyes widened and he smacked his forehead, flustered. "Oh my God I'm so sorry I totally forgot. I got distracted by my friend." He licked his parched lips. "Do you want me to go back and get it?" he asked, even though he didn't want to.
"No, it's okay." She placed a hand gently on his arm and he relaxed, feeling what was like a jolt of electricity shoot through his arm. She began to move away. "I know you're tired. I'll get them."
He watched as she walked away. She was approached by Ross. Michael licked his lips again. Please don't say anything either of us will regret, he begged silently.
Meanwhile, Cassandra noticed Ross approaching her and put on her best smile. "Hi!" she greeted. "Michael's friend, right? I saw him talking to you."
"Ah...yes." He didn't sound quite as enthusiastic or friendly as she did. He held up the two cups. "I realize that you two...forgot your fruit punch."
"Ah, thank you!" She reached forward to take them, but Ross drew his arms in a little bit. She stopped. "What's the matter?"
"Who are you?" he asked finally, after long moments of silence.
She stared at him before smiling. "Oh wow, that's some intense security you got here. What's next; asking for my ID?" She paused and noticed that he didn't seem to be appreciating her joke, so she relaxed and said, "I'm just Michael's friend. I met him recently when I came back to Townsville. I chose a random party to crash for the night and didn't even realize it was Michael's!" She laughed. "Fate's a fickle thing, is it not?"
"...Indeed." He handed her the drinks.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome. I hope you enjoy them," he replied.
And as she left, she could feel his eyes lingering on her backside.
Meanwhile, a little ways away, stood Sidney and his sister.
Sydney was squeezing a cup of juice just a little too hard as she watched Cassandra and Ross talk to one another. Cassandra laughed and Sydney growled out, "Who's she?"
"I have no idea. She looks like she knows Michael," her twin brother answered, shivering in his white suit and white tie. The suit jacket offered little warmth, yet he still felt sweaty and uncomfortable in the pink button-up underneath. He almost felt like the white suit drew too much attention, but his mother had insisted on the colour, saying that it—for a lack of a better word—"suited" him. The pun had been almost as uncomfortable as the suit itself.
"Yes. I noticed." Sydney suddenly squeezed too hard and the plastic cup exploded in her hand, breaking apart. She watched as sticky pink punch began dribbling down her fingers. Then she sighed and began stalking toward the ballroom doors. "Excuse me as I go and clean this filth off of my hands," she muttered through gritted teeth.
"Take your time," Sidney murmured absentmindedly, staring into his own fruit punch. His mind kept wandering back to earlier, when someone had rang his doorbell and he'd opened the door and the person standing outside had turned out to be Bubbles—and she'd jumped into his arms.*
Flashback
"Bubbles?" he gasped, gently taking her by the shoulders and leaning back so that he could see her face.
Her wide eyes were sad and watery, with her brow furrowed and lip quivering. "H-Hi, S-Sidney," she managed to stammer, taking a deep and shaky breath as she wiped at her eyes.
Despite his better judgement, he felt his heart soften. He still had feelings for her, after all. "Bubbles, what happened? What's wrong?"
She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a new figure appeared across the room. It was Sydney, and she didn't look happy. Leaning against the doorway with her arm raised above her head, she raised an eyebrow. "Look which bubbles came floating right on back after popping my brother's bubble."
The blue Powerpuff Girl flinched at the jab, and Sidney looked over at his sister from over his shoulder in a desperate manner. "Sydney..." he began.
She shrugged. "I'm staying out of this," she said as she lifted both hands, palm facing towards them, "this is your problem, brother." As she moved away from the doorway, she added, "Try not to get your heart broken again."
"Sydney...!" he tried to cry after her, but it came out more like an embarrassed and exasperated whimper.
Bubbles was sniffling and wiping her eyes, trying to dry them. "I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I shouldn't have come here..."
"No, wait!" His hand flew upwards to stop her, but he paused when she paused as she looked up at him in surprise. He blushed at his outburst. "I -I mean, no—please wait..." He swallowed and lowered his hand. "What happened?"
Bubbles stared at him for a long, long time. So long that he started worrying she wouldn't reply. But then her lip began quivering and her eyes began tearing up again and—
"No, no! Don't—!" he began, before it happened.
—She began crying.
"—Don't cry," he finished softly in a defeated manner. "Oh, Bubbles..."
She buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. Boomer... Boomer tried to kiss me and I shoved him away and I just—I don't know. I don't know what I want anymore! I don't know if I still like you or if I like him or if I even like him in that way; that sense..." She was blubbering, but Sidney was staring to lose focus.
His mind could only settle on the one solid statement of her speech: "Boomer tried to kiss me". He swallowed. "He...what?" Even though he'd come to accept the fact that he may have been Bubbles' second choice, he could still feel himself crumbling.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she gasped between breaths, rubbing at her eyes. "I'm such a horrible person... I-I don't even know what's wrong with me anymore... You were right to dump me; I-I'm just so awful..."
"Bubbles, no! That's not true. I-I didn't 'dump' you. I just—I chose to break it off"—he paused, wondering if he should add in a "for now"—"f-for now because you were... Because you were so amazing."
She stopped wailing and bumbling through her words to stare at him. "What...?"
"Yes, because you were so amazing." He was gaining confidence now, the words coming easier to him. "I broke it off because even Boomer, a secretive and mysterious, aloof Rowdyruff Boy, was attracted to you. I broke it off because you're everything I'm not. Popular, beautiful, confident." He wasn't adding the "for now" anymore, but neither of them were thinking about it and even if he was, it would've only muddled the message with mixed signals.
"But I'm a mess," she protested, swallowing.
He smiled weakly. "A hot mess," he finished for her teasingly—it was a joke he was stealing from Ross—the confident boy Sidney had always wanted to be. And while he was saying it in his usual soft and shy, awkward manner, it did the trick.
Bubbles paused in shock, before a small smile broke out on her face and she hit him lightly. "That's so mean," she mumbled, but she looked happier and Sidney felt relieved.
He caught her wrist and smiled. "It's true though, I promise."
Blushing, she looked up at him.
Sidney suddenly felt his own cheeks go hot as well. What on earth am I doing? Bubbles sees me as second base; why am I flirting with her? Are my leftover feelings really that strong...?
The thoughts that were racing through his mind distracted him from the fact that Bubbles was beginning to lean in, both of them being caught up by the moment...
"Bubbles."
Both of them spun around toward the doorway, where Sidney's sister was standing again, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. In her hand was a phone.
"Y-Yes?" asked the blue Puff, looking flustered as she quickly took a step back. She backed into the coat-hanger accidentally, but she managed to catch it with her super-strength before it fell.
Sydney's eyes narrowed even further. "Don't play games with my brother. If you break his heart with trickery then I will break your head. Understood?"
"O-Of course," she stammered back, eyes wide.
"Good." Sydney nodded curtly, holding up the phone. "It's the Professor. He wants you home."
"A-Ah, of course. I'm sorry." Smoothing down her hair, Bubbles quickly floated into the air. "I'll get out of your hair now. Sidney..." She turned to the boy, who flinched. She slowly lowered herself to the ground and said, "I'm sorry."
He gazed back at her and whispered softly, "I know."
Bubbles took one last look at him, and then at his sister, and then she was zipping out the door, a sky-blue streak left behind.
Sydney entered the room and crossed it, shutting the door behind the blue Powerpuff Girl. "Now that's how you deal with a player like her."
"Bubbles isn't a player," Sidney said defensively. "She's just...confused."
His sister rolled her eyes. "So are you," she retorted. "And besides, it was a joke. Stop getting your panties in a twist."
"What do you want?" he muttered.
She raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "This is new. What's with the sass?"
"I'm not in the mood for your sass," he answered dryly, beginning to climb up the smooth, dark oak-brown, wooden stairs.
"Mind telling me what's bothering you? What did Bubbles say?" she pushed.
"I don't want to talk about it," he answered over his shoulder.
Sydney sighed. "Well, if you don't want to talk about her, then fine. How's about we talk about another girl in our lives?"
He paused. "Like who?" he asked.
"Like Sophia," his sister stated.
Sidney's eyes widened.
End Flashback
The latter half of the conversation with his sister was occupying his mind as well, but most of it was being taken up by Bubbles, Bubbles, and more Bubbles. Beautiful, heartbreaking, kind and cruel Bubbles. Everything he wasn't Bubbles Utonium.
Beautiful because she was the very epitome of charm; heartbreaking because she was tearing at his heart; kind because she was such a sweet person who cared about everyone; cruel because she was playing him this way. She was popular and well-liked by all. She was truly everything he wasn't.
Sidney sighed and took another sip of his fruit punch, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. He couldn't seem to pull it off though; his mind was a muddled mess—falling apart and broken; full of fragmented images of her. His mind and his heart were at war, and both were confused. Both were losing.
"I wish there was a third voice I could listen to," he mumbled into his cup.
"What's that?"
Startled, he jumped and whirled around. Standing behind him was Raymond, who was pouring himself a cup of fruit punch. "S-Sir," he spluttered.
"There's no need for formalities with me, my boy," the older man replied calmly, his eyes still focused on the snack bar as he loaded a plate with food.
"What are you doing here?" blurted Sidney without thinking. "I-I mean, of course you're here for the party, b-but—"
"But how come I got an invitation despite being a relative of Damon?" When he saw Sidney's shocked face, he chuckled. "I'm just joking, kid. Apologies if that offended you."
He shook his head wildly. "N-No, I should be the one apologizing for being so careless—"
"Nonsense." He placed a hand on Sidney's head, which silenced him. Then he continued: "Anyway, I'm here to enjoy the snacks." He looked around at the glares he was receiving and promptly removed his hand. People like Maxim and Coal were obviously judging him. "Besides, I'm not all that welcome elsewhere, especially not on the dance floor."
"I'm sorry about that," Sidney began.
"There's no need to apologize," Raymond interrupted. "You guys obviously don't like Damon a lot, and for fair reason. Anyway, I don't mind. I'm glad I get some free food." He smiled. "Now...what was that about a third voice you could listen to?"
Sidney blushed. "You heard that?"
"Heh. I have very keen ears, y'know." Raymond smiled some more, twitching his ear briefly. "So...about that..."
"Well... I was just..." Sidney flushed even redder. "Oh, this is embarrassing..."
"Don't worry. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to," Raymond said reassuringly.
"Okay." Sidney cast his gaze downward and stayed silent for awhile, before finally working up enough courage to explain his situation. He opened his mouth to answer and—
—A jumbled mess came blurting out: "I like Bubbles but she might like Boomer and I'm not sure and apparently she's not sure either and Boomer tried to kiss her but she shoved him away apparently and then she came to me and that's sending me mixed signals and I think I sent her some mixed signals too by flirting with her—maybe—and I don't think my sister is all that impressed or happy about that and she wants to protect me from heartbreak and doesn't believe in Bubbles and I want to defend her but at the same time I also don't want to put all my faith on this relationship and I mean I'm already pretty stressed as it is so this isn't helping and I'm sorry I'm rambling and this is probably really annoying I'm sorry—"
Raymond put his hand up.
Sidney stopped talking and took a huge, deep breath.
The older man smiled. "You said sorry already," he finally said.
"Pardon?" he asked, confused.
"'Sorry'," Raymond explained. "You said it more than once in that...sentence."
"Oh, sorry," he apologized.
"Don't apologize for it," Raymond chuckled. "Makes you sound very Canadian."
Smiling slightly at the joke, Sidney blushed.
"I don't mean to tease you. I'm sorry too. But anyway, you gotta slow down there, tiger! I may be a wolf, but even I don't run that fast."
Sidney looked down, the smile vanishing from his face. "...Sorry," he sighed, repeating himself on that once again.
"Hey, what's wrong? I managed to catch you saying that you like Bubbles but she might like Boomer?" Raymond asked, looking concerned.
Embarrassed, he nodded and he repeated what he'd said earlier, but surmised it in an even shorter, clearer version. When he finished, he looked up at Raymond.
"Hmm..." the man was murmuring. "Sounds like you could use some advice."
"Yes, I suppose I could," the boy responded quietly.
Raymond's eyes softened. "I'm not going to say I'm qualified to give that advice, but I'm willing to help. I guess what I'd have to say is that I know Bubbles is a sweet girl and you really like her, but try to stop focusing on her a little."
"I can't," Sidney promptly answered, covering his eyes with his hands. He felt like he was going to start tearing up in embarrassment.
"Yes, you can." Raymond gently pried the boys' hands away from his face and gazed sternly into his eyes. "Focus on other things. Like a recent big piece of news."
He thought back to his sister's announcement.
"You look like you have an idea. Good," the man said approvingly. "Now give Bubbles some space. Don't avoid her though. Chat with her, but only when she comes to you. Let your emotions take a break from the roller coaster that you've put yourself on. Once you start easing back into your regular life focused on your regular things, your feelings about Bubbles will be much clearer. And perhaps in that time, her own feelings will become clearer as well. She might even be able to work things out with Boomer or heck, even you if you two can get your emotions realigned. Is that helpful?"
Sidney sniffled and wiped his eyes, where they were watering just slightly. He nodded. It was helpful advice. It wouldn't be easy to execute, but it was helpful and he appreciated it. He smiled. "Thank you."
"No problem." Raymond ruffled his hair lightly. "Best of luck, kid." Then he winked, carrying his fruit punch and plate of snacks, before moving away.
Sidney watched him go before running a hand through his cookie-dough-coloured hair in a small attempt to smooth it back out, even though it wasn't all that ruffled. As he was doing that, his sister returned.
"What the hell was he doing here?" she demanded, folding her arms.
Sidney smiled slightly, mostly to himself. "Being my third voice, I guess," he said softly.
"What?" Sydney asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing," he answered, his smile growing broader. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
She gave him an incredulous look. "Alright, if you say so..." As he nodded, she went on and said, "Anyway, about that thing we were talking about earlier..."
Sidney's eyes darted back towards Raymond, who was smiling and chatting with Ross. Thank you, his heart and mind whispered simultaneously. Both of them felt a little less confused, and a little lighter. Thank you for being our third voice.
"So why'd you want to meet me here?" he asked, sliding into the seat across from her. A giant ice cream sundae already sat in front of her, pink and brown and green and delicious-looking. He longed to try it.
She didn't answer right away, orange eyes glued to her phone. She was typing something away, and it took a few moments before she finished. When she did, she set the device down on the table and turned her piercing gaze on him.
He blinked, returning the look with his own blank and confused one. He was sleepy and tired, and it was dark outside. It didn't make much sense to him why she had wanted to meet so late at night.
"Sorry to call you here on such short notice," she said curtly as she finally looked away, fixing the cutlery in front of her. This time she didn't look back up. "I know it's late out and you were probably trying to go to sleep."
Yeah, if playing video games counted as "going to sleep", he thought with a yawn. Out loud he questioned, "So why did you want to meet at this hour? As you yourself pointed out, it's late."
"I wanted to talk. About a lot of stuff. There's a lot to cover." She sighed and ran a hand through her long brown hair, and he realized just how tired she looked. She didn't look like him; who was weary from a busy day—rather, she appeared to be worn out from multiple busy days.
"Go right ahead," he prompted gently, deciding to tread lightly for the time-being.
"...Is there... Is there something you should be telling me that I don't know?" she finally asked.
His eyes widened. "What...?"
"It's just... You and DJ are both such—secretive people. What is it that you're hiding from me?"
He coughed awkwardly. "It wouldn't be much of a secret if I told you, now would it be?" She glowered at him and he added, "I mean, ignorance is bliss, right?"
"Perhaps for some. But this Bliss is not ignorant and would prefer to keep it that way." Turning her indignant smouldering orange eyes on his own, she added, "So please, if there's a secret you're hiding from me that affects me or my boyfriend at all, I'd like to know what it is. Now."
"I don't know anything involving that punk DJ," he retorted hotly.
"Of course not." She sighed and some of the sparks vanished from her gaze as she picked up a spoon and dug into the sundae.
He relaxed and swallowed awkwardly. "Sorry."
"Oh no, it's fine. It's totally plausible that you and DJ are hiding entire book-loads of information from me, but you know what? It's fine. Who cares? Certainly not me."
He grimaced at her words. They were as sarcastic as they came.
The orange-eyed lady bit into the ice cream and continued, "I want to be fair."
"About what?" He furrowed his brow at her.
"I told DJ that he needed to tell me a secret of his. A small one. Right now he's at a party at Michael's house. He still has some time, but—anyway, I wanted to be fair about this. He is my boyfriend, but he's definitely not the only one who's been hiding some stuff from me."
His eyes widened. "Oh no," he whispered.
"Oh yes," she answered. "Braker Jojo, I want you to report something to me as well. It can be small. But it should be meaningful in some way. Okay?"
"Bliss, let's be rational. I—I can't."
"Oh, yes. Very rational. Bravo. I applaud your intellect." She clapped sarcastically.
"Bliss, I'm serious."
This time, her gaze darkened. "So am I," she said. "So we're agreed on this then. No bullshit."
"Bliss—"
"If you can spill secrets as much as you can say my name, then you'll have no problem with this challenge."
He clamped his mouth shut before he said her name again.
She nodded approvingly. "Thank you."
He managed to keep silent for a few seconds longer as she ate her sundae in peace, but finally he couldn't hold it back anymore and blurted out, "Why are you so upset?" She froze, and he hurriedly went on: "I mean, I know the dinner we had with DJ didn't go all that well but that was awhile ago and technically I was the most upset at the party but I'm not nearly as upset as you right now and I just don't know why it's bothering you or I mean rather what exactly is still bothering you?" He finally finished, taking a deep breath and praying to dear God she wouldn't rip him into shreds.
She blinked, contemplating his words. But instead of answering, she looked back down at her sundae and continued eating.
"Bliss," he said, feeling exasperated.
"There goes my name again," she sighed, closing her eyes as she set down her spoon. She leaned forward in her seat, resting her chin on her hands. "Here. Let's make it a trade." She opened her eyes. "I'll share one of my secrets with you in return for one of yours."
Braker's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
She nodded. "Very." Bliss leaned forward until their noses were inches from each other, her eyes boring into his. He could feel his cheeks turning red while the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Finally, she whispered, "I know who Damon is."
He nearly choked on thin air. "What!?" he hissed. "Where did you get the information!?" Seeing her raised eyebrow, he quickly calmed down and tried not to grab her and shake her. Instead, his mind quickly went through a checklist of possibilities. Deth Jackson Jr? Was this the secret he was going to tell her? No... Even he's not that stupid. So where? Where on Earth did she find out who he is!? Damon's cabin? No, it can't be... Ross or his friends? My brothers? Ugh, how did she find out?
"I can see the thoughts racing through your head," she finally said, her voice cracking his jumbled thoughts. "And no, it wasn't any of the possibilities you're probably thinking of. It wasn't you or the other Ruffs, or any of Ross' friends. And it certainly wasn't even DJ."
He sagged with relief but a crackling tension remained underneath his skin, tingling and begging to escape. His fingers twitched. "So where?" he demanded, trying to sound calm, even though his voice was clearly breaking.
"I met him."
The statement was clear and simple and very, very vague. But the words shot a million alarms ringing through Braker's head as he tried to comprehend her words. They were words. And while sticks and stones could break his bones, words could never hurt him. And yet, these very words that she had just uttered seemed to set his bones on fire. The words were impossible. They couldn't be true.
But why would she lie?
"What?" he finally managed to choke out.
"I met him," she repeated, her voice even. She looked down, picked up her spoon, and continued to eat her sundae. As she chewed quietly, he sat there gaping at her. Finally, she swallowed and explained, "I went to his cabin one day and there he was."
"Did you... Did you speak to him?" he asked, dreading the answer. He was worried he would explode if he heard the reply. Or implode. Whichever was more likely.
"Actually, yes." She swirled her spoon around in the bowl of ice cream before looking up to meet his eyes. He felt like he was going to faint. "We had an entire conversation."
"What did you guys talk about?" he pleaded.
"He gave us some tea and cookies. Joked about the things being made from meat or blood or something."
Braker felt like throwing up, but he was relieved that it didn't sound as bad as he expected. At least he didn't—
"Oh, and he shot a gun at us. Once."
Braker pretty much fainted right there out of shock and terror—but mostly out of disbelief. He awoke just two seconds later, staring at his counterpart. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, but I am. Very serious. I've been nothing but serious this entire conversation." She leaned in closer, eyes flashing. "So, now that I've told you one of my little secrets, care to make the trade?"
"Okay, fine." He gulped. "On one condition."
She scowled in frustration. "And what's that?"
"Please don't tell DJ about you seeing Damon."
"Why?" She froze, losing her icy composure briefly. She quickly recovered and narrowed her eyes. "He's my boyfriend. He deserves to know just as much as you do. I want to make this trade fair; I told you, so—
Braker winced. "I know, I know. You told me so you should tell him too. But please...don't. For me," he begged.
"Why?" she demanded again.
"Look, he's already agreed to do this secret thing right? So you don't need to trade with him. I get that you had to do it with me because you want to know a secret of mine, but DJ doesn't need to know."
"Braker—"
"Look, do you want my secret or not?"
She hesitated. "But why?" she finally asked again. "Just tell me why."
He took a deep breath. "Because Damon used to be a friend of mine. He's a little cuckoo now, I know; but DJ hates his guts and who knows what'll happen if he found out Damon was stationed here in Townsville." Except he actually already knows that, but Bliss doesn't need to know that part. She also doesn't need to know that DJ would probably go into a violent rage if he found out Damon encountered and even worse, almost hurt Bliss. Hell, I'm not even sure I can hold myself back from going into a violent rage.
Bliss visibly hesitated again. Then she sighed and said, "Fine."
"Oh thank the stars," Braker whispered. He didn't bother pointing out that he'd technically already shared a secret with her, given the fact that he didn't want to piss Bliss off further and put any more strains on their relationship. But he also felt a little guilty about half-lying despite their deal to reveal something to one another truthfully, so he felt like he should give her a real secret as a thank you for keeping her secret from DJ. But what?
"Alright. We're done here." Bliss stood up and pushed the ice cream sundae toward him. "You may have the rest. I'm leaving."
"No, wait!" He grabbed her hands.
She stared down at him in surprise.
He swallowed. "Bliss... It's—It's been awhile. Let's... Let's just hang out for a little bit. Please?"
She stared at him for a long while, but then she slowly slid into her seat again. She jabbed her spoon into the sundae. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked quietly.
He smiled in relief. "Thank you," he whispered, giving her hands a squeeze.
She still hadn't heard from him.
Sighing, Bunny closed her eyes and rubbed them, trying not to think about him. About Darkai. Her boyfriend. Whom she still hadn't heard from.
Her lip quivered and she opened her eyes, staring at her lap. Her mind was already playing the worst possible scenarios, even as she tried to scramble away from them. She wanted answers. A hint, even. Just something to tell her that things between her and Darkai were still okay.
Or else, she might start really doubting their relationship.
Bunny was pulled out of her miserable thoughts by a soft rapping on the window. She looked up, surprised. Her heart clenched briefly as she wondered if it would be the familiar face of Darkai peering back at her, with just as much love in her gaze as he used to.
She jumped up and flew towards the door, but—it wasn't Darkai. It was Bandit Jojo, floating in front of her window, his dark-purple eyes glowing in the late light.
Bunny felt her cheeks warm as she wondered why he had come visit her. But nonetheless, she opened the window and let him clamber inside. As he landed on the floor and she slid the window shut, she asked, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he said almost defensively. "Can't I just visit my favourite girl?"
"Favourite"...? Her mind echoed the word in disbelief as she replied, "I-I'm sorry, I guess I-I just thought that—"
"What? That I wouldn't visit you unless the world was burning down?" He plopped onto her soft purple bed and looked up. His counterpart looked so guilty and red-faced that he couldn't help but smile slightly. "Look, I'm just teasing you."
"O-Oh." She floated over to him and sat down awkwardly at her desk, turning the chair so that she could face him. "So what's wr—I mean, wh-what's up?"
"Not much," he answered with a shrug. "I was just bored so I went out flying and well... I just so happened to pass by your room." He gave her a small smile. "I guess you could say I was feeling lonely."
Bunny felt surprised. Bandit didn't seem like the type to "get lonely and seek company".
"Oh, I know that look. You don't believe me," Bandit sighed dramatically, flopping down on her bed so that he was splayed out on his back.
"N-N-No, that's not it a-at all," she stammered. "I-I'm just surprised, th-that's all." She was very surprised, in fact. This was a very different Bandit from the one she'd just been talking to earlier in the day. He'd been sad then, and while she didn't want him to keep being sad, this seemed like a very sudden and unexpected turn of events.
It was almost too sudden. Out of nowhere, Bandit was in a good mood again and was actually talking to her for once. Coincidentally just as her usually very loving boyfriend suddenly stopped talking to her. It all felt so surreal, like the world had suddenly flipped without her even realizing it.
He looked up. "You sure look surprised." He sighed again, bouncing upwards. "Look, I didn't do anything to Darkai. I swear. I don't know why he's not talking to you."
Bunny flushed even more red. "I-I wasn't suspecting you of a-anything!"
"I can see the conflicting thoughts in your eyes," he snorted. Bandit paused, his gaze suddenly turning serious. "But okay—while it's true I came by because I was feeling lonely...I was also worried about you. I know you've been feeling pretty lonely yourself without Darkai beside you, so I thought I'd...I don't know; stop by and keep you company, I guess?" He groaned quietly. "Ugh, this is stupid. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I'm not very good at this comforting business." He got up, grabbing his beanie, which had fallen off of his head. "Sorry, I'll just get out of your hair now."
"Bandit, wait!" She scrambled upwards and tried to grab his sleeve. "Umm—p-please don't leeee—ahh!" She'd misstepped and was now falling over, face-first toward the ground.
Eyes widening, Bandit reacted quickly. He flew forward and managed to catch her. Time seemed to slow down briefly as both of them struggled to stay upright; Bunny trying to stop falling and Bandit trying not to fall with her in his arms. He used his superpowers so that he could scoop her up bridal-style, both of them sighing with relief.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, trying to calm down, before Bandit looked down at her and smiled slightly. "Phew, that was a close one. You okay?"
Bunny's face was turning a very bright red as she realized that she was in Bandit's arms. In. His. Arms. And that could mean a lot of things. "Y-Y-Yes, I-I'm q-quite f-f-fine, thank y-you," she stuttered hopelessly, before burying her face in her sweater sleeves.
Bandit also realized what holding her meant at that moment and quickly let her go onto her bed. "S-Sorry," he stammered. "I-I didn't mean to invade your privacy. I was just—reacting. Without thinking."
"I-I-It's okay." She was even more embarrassed that she'd made him embarrassed about it. "S-Sorry for being such a klutz."
"Bunny, you're not a klutz." His gaze suddenly softened like lavender pastel, and his posture relaxed from its originally tense state.
Bunny looked up, startled. He was leaning in closer now, his eyes suddenly glowing a hungry longing that reminded her of a wolf or a puppy.
"You're so much more than that," he murmured, reaching out to gently run his hand through her ponytail. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut, but he didn't seem to notice, his eyes running through her features. "You're beautiful, and kind, and intelligent, and—and so elegant. The exact opposite of a klutz." He froze, his hand midway through her brown curls. "The exact opposite of me."
Daring to open her eyes now out of curiosity, she looked up to see him pulling his hand away.
"What is wrong with me?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he sighed, looking disgusted with himself. His gaze was dark and he was wringing his hand. "I keep doing this. I keep making you uncomfortable. I-I don't mean to. It's just that...you're so...enchanting." He sounded like he was struggling just to choke out the words. "I know you have a boyfriend and—" He sighed again, turning away. "Never mind."
For some reason, her heart sped up and she felt a longing to reach out and give him a comforting hug. He looked so sad and upset with himself, she wanted to let him know that it was okay. She forgave him. After all, he didn't have romantic feelings for her so it wasn't like he was trying to steal her away from Darkai.
The words wouldn't come though, so instead, she did what she'd initially longed to do.
She hugged him from behind.
He turned rigid, frozen. Then he slowly began to thaw, shuddering in her arms, and she could feel his breathing slow. "Why do you do this to me?" he finally whispered.
"I-I'm sorry. What...?" She quickly pulled her arms away, ashamed of herself. She'd probably broken a boundary. She knew Bandit didn't like to be touched.
He shivered, turning slowly to face her. "No, Bunny—I didn't mean to make you feel guilty. I-I'm sorry. It's just that..." His eyes roamed her face and he murmured, "You're making me love you when I really shouldn't."
"Wh-What?" Bunny didn't hear him. Her heart was pounding too loudly, drowning everything else out.
A little louder, he said, "N-Never mind. It's just that I don't want to ruin anything between you and Darkai."
Feeling like a needle had pricked her heart, Bunny looked down. "That's okay. Things between us are probably already ruined anyway."
"Bunny, no...! No, don't think that. Darkai loves you. I-I can tell. I'm sure he isn't ignoring you out of spite." Bandit grabbed her hands and squeezed them. "Please don't lose faith in him. Or yourself."
She turned to stare into his eyes. "But how can you tell...?"
He grimaced. "Oh, if only you knew," he whispered. When she furrowed her brow, he quickly added, "I-It's a guy thing. I can tell he...he really likes you." Bandit swallowed; his throat felt thick. He couldn't believe he was defending Darkai, of all people, but he couldn't imagine letting Bunny suffer the way she was. And he didn't feel right trying to win her over when Darkai and her so clearly loved each other, yet she didn't know that he still did. It felt unfair, in a way, like Bandit would be winning a battle without really winning—without trying. He would become the second choice, the replacement, the rebound guy, the other one.
And that wasn't what he wanted. Bandit knew that if he wanted Bunny to love him, he wanted it to be true love. As cheesy as it sounded, he couldn't stand the idea of both of them being unsatisfied together.
"...Thank you. I needed that," Bunny offered quietly, taking his hands in hers. She studied them for a few seconds, before looking up and meeting his gaze shyly. "I-I feel better now."
He looked at her in surprise for those few seconds, but when she looked up at him and smiled her shy girl smile, he felt his entire heart swell. His cheeks reddened and he murmured back, "You're welcome." He gave her hands a squeeze. "You'll always be loved, Bunny. I promise." And if not by Darkai, then by me, he swore silently, the mental oath ringing inside his head.
Because I'll always be watching over you, even if it's for the rest of eternity.
Thump.
The punching bag flew backwards and Vix jumped back before it could swing into him. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins, his face flushed and slick with sweat. He bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to gain the momentum he needed to throw the next punch—a punch he wanted to be large and powerful and violent.
Thump. Thump.
The punching bag flew around some more before it stopped mid-swing. Vix relaxed his shoulders and looked up.
Christie stood in front of him, holding the punching bag in place. Her hair was tied up and she was dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. "The punching bag is surely not a worthy opponent," she began, getting into ready stance. "But I am."
"Cocky, aren't you?" Vix didn't miss a beat as he swung his gloved hand forward.
Christie let go of the punching dummy, easily catching his fist. "It's true, isn't it?" She said it casually, as if matching his skill was no big deal, her eyes holding calm curiosity rather than cold arrogance.
Vix wasn't sure if that made him angrier or less.
He moved so that he could bring his leg up in a side-kick instead, and Christie blocked him again, unflinching. "I wouldn't say it's 100% true," he finally stated, slamming his fist forward in an uppercut.
She was caught by surprise that time and ended up bending over from the hit. "Ow, fuck," she groaned, clutching her stomach.
Vix paused, sudden concern filling his veins. "Sorry," he apologized awkwardly, hoping he hadn't hurt her too badly.
Christie smiled before spinning around and doing a back kick into his side. "Now we're even," she claimed as he doubled over, falling to the floor.
Cursing, he looked up at her perfect smile and perfect eyes and he found himself smiling too. But then he remembered why he was angry and his face fell again.
"What's the matter?" she asked, reaching out to help him up.
He pushed himself up, ignoring her offer of help. "Nothing," he said coolly, eyes distant and cold.
Christie frowned, sensing that "nothing" was most definitely "something". "Okay, I know that look in I see it. Are you mad at something else and you're just directing your anger to me, or"—here she shifted her weight onto her other leg—"are you mad at me?"
"I'm not mad at anything or anyone."
"Don't lie to me." Her gaze softened as she unfolded her arms. "Is this about Blaster and I...?"
Vix didn't answer.
She sighed. "Oh, Vix..."
Maybe it was because something about her tone irked him. It spoke volumes, even though she'd only said his name. It said "oh no, do you still not trust him?" and "oh no, are you jealous?" And somewhere back there, in the corners of her mind, it probably whispered, "Oh no, do you have feelings for me?"
But it also irked him that she was reading him and not reading him at all. She was making assumptions. Guesses. And she was judging him.
So something inside of him snapped.
He jerked his head upwards, glowering at her with sudden anger flaring in his eyes, hot and wild and obviously there—very different from the iciness he'd displayed earlier. "Don't use that condescending tone with me! How do you think I feel about you and him?" he snapped.
Taken aback, she stammered, "I-I'm not sure... I-I guess I just assumed..." She trailed off, her face flushed as she ended her sentence awkwardly, with the important words left unsaid.
—That maybe you were jealous.
Vix didn't need to hear the words out loud to know she was thinking them. But he instead snarled, "Thought what? That I had a crush on you too?" Of course, it wasn't far from the truth, but she didn't need to know that. He didn't want her to know that.
She couldn't know that. Not anymore. Then again, Vix wasn't sure he'd ever stood a chance with her. Maybe that was why he'd never realized his feelings sooner. But it was too late now.
Christie winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that—"
"Read my lips, Christie," he hissed. "I. Don't. Care."
"Vix..." She didn't try to say anything else.
"I don't care what you do in your spare time or whom you choose to have a little schoolgirl crush on, even if he is the enemy," Vix spat.
"But Blaster is different—"
"And I'm not?" he interrupted, eyes wide and disappointed, voice raising. "You once told me I was your friend more than your bodyguard. But what am I to you now?"
Christie stepped forward, reaching out to touch him or grab him. "Vix, wait—I never meant—" Her voice was exasperated, with a twinge of panic. Why is he so upset? He doesn't actually have feelings for me, does he? He can't have feelings for me!
He could practically hear her thoughts. And he hated it. He took a step back, avoiding her hand.
Hurt, she tried again to grab his wrist. "What's going on? Why are you so upset? Come on, let's talk—"
"Stay away from me!" He punched the punching bag so hard it flew into the air and came tumbling back before the chain holding it snapped and it crashed to the floor. As Christie watched, wide-eyed, he yelled, "Just leave me alone!"
And as he stormed out of the training room, she turned with him, raising her voice to cry out, "Vix, wait! Come back...!"
He didn't stop stomping until he was far away from her, on almost the other side of the large mansion. When he felt like he'd walked far enough, he stopped and leaned against a pillar, feeling the tears come. He let them come this time. After all, his heart was in shambles. It had been smashed into pieces for the fourth time his whole life.
The first time had been when his parents died. And the second time had been when Damon was taken from him. And the third was when he found out Damon was still alive—and also a deranged, murderous psycho. And now the fourth...
Vix sighed, looking down at his hands as he turned them over, imagining his skin as cracking porcelain. He laughed weakly. I'm so fragile. Just like a china doll. He shook his head, the tears blurring his vision as one of his eyes turned white, trying to heal wounds that weren't even there.
Or at least, visibly there. They were definitely there inside of him, cracking him and his heart from the inside.
He let out a low groan, covering his face with both of his hands. He imagined the skin under his eyes going crack, crack as well, as if it were a disease that was also spreading to the other parts of him. He waited a long time until he calmed down. His mind was still racing though, although now he felt more rational, regaining some of his composure.
I should go.
The thought surprised him. It had come out of nowhere, and with it the question of, Go where?
Anywhere. Anywhere but here. The splitting skin continued in his imagination, but slower this time. His heartbeat, however, sped up—as did his mind. You're not wanted here anymore. You just destroyed the last of your relationship with Christie. You're a fool. Why couldn't you just pretend; just be happy for her? You did it when she was measuring that jacket. Wasn't that nice? It was better than nothing. You could've still been her friend. Now she suspects you and probably hates you and thinks you probably hate her and love her because you are a confusing, broken mess.
Because you hurt her.
Vix fought back against the image of her wide, pained eyes in his head, but it was impossible. So he gave up, slumping against the pillar even more and whispering, "But I'd have to watch her fawn over Blaster."
Isn't that a small price to pay, you selfish bastard? Why couldn't you just be happy for her like she wants?
The reply didn't come right away. But it was always there, in the back of his mind, lingering despicably until he pulled on the words:
Because that's how Damon became corrupted, a small part of him whispered.
Vix squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples before covering his face with his hands again and groaning quietly. He was starting to get a splitting headache. He was already going insane and arguing with himself. Despite his craziness, he felt like he knew what he needed to do.
I need to get out of here. I don't belong here anymore.
Vix removed his hands from his eyes. The tears had stopped now, but the older tears, which felt cold now, dripped down his cheek. His cracking, porcelain cheek.
I should leave. Go and do something big. Something to take my mind off of everything.
Something like... Something like stopping this war.
He was wiping down the counter when Christie burst into the room, panting. "Raymond! Is Raymond here? I need Raymond!"
He looked up, setting down the towel he'd been using. "Say my name a few more times and I might just hear you," he answered teasingly, wiping his own hands quickly before walking over to her. He paused, frowning when he saw the urgent look in her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"I need help!" she gasped, grabbing his hands, startling him. "I upset Vix. I-I was talking to him about my—my—my current love interest, and he got mad. I don't know if he was jealous or just untrusting, but what should I do?"
Raymond had snapped to attention at the mention of Vix. He wanted desperately to protect and give the boy care, maybe to make up for all the things his brother had done to him. Lied to him, hurt him, tempt him...
"Raymond, what do I do?" she asked again, her breath hitching.
He stared down at her. She was so much smaller than him, but her large, pleading eyes spoke volumes. She wanted Vix to be happy too. "Okay, we need to calm down," he said, taking a deep breath. "And we need to find him. Do you know where he went?"
She shook her head wildly. "No, he stormed off—he was so angry, a-and I felt so guilty...I didn't follow."
"That's alright." He gave her shoulder a squeeze, trying to lessen the guilt she was clearly feeling. "Listen, Christie—this isn't your fault. You don't know why he got upset. Maybe he has feelings for you; maybe he's just being untrusting, as you said. Whatever it is, we don't know and we don't understand. So don't feel guilty."
"I-I can't help it." She was still obviously fighting conflicts within herself, her mind racing. "What do you think he's going to do? Where's he going to go?"
"Right here."
Both of them spun around toward the doorway, where Vix was standing. He blinked his emerald-green eyes, running his gaze through the pristine room.
"Vix?" Christie gasped.
"Oh, Christie. I wasn't expecting to see you here." His voice was a flat, monotonous line as he walked inside.
"I-I was worried about you," she explained. "I was going to go look for you."
"There's no need. This house is big, but it's not like I'd get lost." He even cracked the smallest of smiles. "Give your bodyguard some credit."
"Vix, wait. I'm sorry about earlier." She rushed forward and grabbed his hands.
He stared down at their intertwined fingers, before giving her hands a brief squeeze. Then he let go. "Why?"
Bewildered, she looked up from their hands as well. "I-I should've been more considerate. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Well, it's okay. I was the one who blew up, not you." He set down the basket he'd been carrying. "So really, I'm the one who's sorry."
Raymond stepped forward, feeling a need to intervene. Vix wasn't acting like himself. "Vix... What's in that basket?"
"Oh, I figured I'd borrow some medical supplies." Vix looked up and Raymond was taken aback by how hollow his eyes looked. "I have a new mission from Danes."
"What?" Christie rushed toward him. "Wait, you're my bodyguard! That is your mission. You're not supposed to have any new ones, especially if it means you're leaving me behind because of the whole Damon kidnapping me fiasco! You're supposed to stay by my side at all—"
"Yes. And no. That hasn't worked out very well. For our relationship, anyway." Vix looked down, picking up a vial. He stared at the glass, before it shattered in his hand. He watched as the blood dripped from his fingers, one of his eyes misting to white as he healed the fresh cuts.
Christie and Raymond exchanged concerned glances.
She stepped forward first, saying, "But Vix, why didn't you protest? Here, I'll put a word in for—"
"There's no need." He began picking shards out of his skin as his skin stitched itself over. Then he brushed glass from the counter towards the garbage can and picked up the pieces from the floor. "It's okay. I'll go."
"Vix, please," she begged, "tell me what's wrong."
He paused, before turning around to stare at her. "You want to know what's wrong?" he questioned quietly.
She nodded.
"There's nothing wrong." He turned away.
"No. I can sense it too. You're clearly upset. Vix, this isn't healthy. You can't keep doing this," Raymond added. "You're hurting yourself by ignoring your pain. You shouldn't shut us out; it's—"
"Damaging, I know. But it's okay." He stood up, having finally finished cleaning up after himself. "I'm already cracked porcelain."
Christie and Raymond shared another confused, concerned look.
"And besides, I can heal myself." He turned around and his right eye turned white, just to remind them of his self-healing abilities.
"We know, but that doesn't make it any healthier."
"I'm just a lowly bodyguard. My health doesn't matter." Vix smiled at them. It was a chilling smile, not because it was creepy or indication of insanity, but because it was so sad and broken and out of place—it was frozen and blank and showed no sign of joy.
"No, you're my friend. And I care about what happens to my friends," Christie interjected, storming forward.
He froze. "'Friend'...?" he repeated.
"Yes. You are my friend and not a lowly bodyguard who doesn't give two shits about his mental health." She reached out and brushed his hair from his eyes. "You dumbass," she added affectionately, her voice soft.
He began shivering, before he sat down.
"Vix?" gasped Christie, grabbing him. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm sorry." He looked up, tears streaming down his face as he smiled. It still looked broken, but it looked more genuine. "I'm sorry for being an idiot."
She relaxed. "You got that right, you idiot," she whispered with just as much affection as before.
Then he reached out and hugged her.
Christie froze. "Vix...?"
"I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been awful all day. I'm sorry. Please forgive me." Vix gave her a squeeze before pulling away. He took her hands. "Christie, I'm okay. I promise."
"So what was with all the theatrics?" she demanded.
He hesitated. "I was just...upset. But I'm okay now."
Raymond smiled in relief. He backed out of the door, deciding to let the two talk things out.
Meanwhile, back inside, Christie was gazing into Vix's eyes, and deciding they were genuine, she leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek.
He froze, wide-eyed in disbelief. "What was that for?" he asked, touching his cheek.
"Just a good luck charm." She smiled slightly. "For your mission."
"Thank you. But I won't be going on the mission." He smiled at her. "I'll talk to Danes. I'll tell him no."
"Thank God!" she burst out, flinging her arms around him. "Oh my God, I was so afraid. Where were you going to go? When were you going to come back? You would've made me worried sick!"
"I know," he said softly, patting her on the back. He smiled affectionately. "That's why I'm not going. Because you're such a worrywart."
"I don't care why. I'm just glad you're not going," she breathed out, giving him a squeeze. "Jesus Christ, don't ever scare me like that again."
He fell silent.
She pulled away and grabbed his face. "Vix," she said sternly, "don't. Ever. Scare. Me. Like. That. Again."
He smiled but didn't nod or say anything, so Christie took that as a close enough indication of yes and hugged him again.
"You fox," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"Hmmm," he said. "Christie, I have something important to ask you."
"What is it?" she murmured.
"Do you love Blaster?"
She pulled away, surprised that they had returned to the topic which had originally set him off. "Umm..." She hesitated, wondering whether or not a "yes" would upset him.
"Be honest," he told her. "I promise I won't be mad, no matter what your answer."
"...Yes," she finally confessed. "I believe I love him."
Vix stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, not saying anything.
"Vix...?" she questioned awkwardly. "You aren't... You aren't upset, are you? Look, I'm sorry if you—if you—" She couldn't say it. She couldn't say "if you like me."
"Shhh." He finally returned to reality, grabbing her hands and smiling. "It's fine. I'm not angry. See?"
She looked at him. Like, really looked at him. He certainly didn't seem upset, at least not anymore. And his smile looked genuine. She felt a twinge of what—disappointment?—and promptly squashed it down, deciding that her subconscious was disgusting. "Okay, I believe you," she finally said.
"Good. Because I promise I'm okay with it." Vix paused. "I just wanted confirmation."
"Why?" she asked.
"Oh, it's not because I have feelings for you; don't worry"—there it was again, that disgusting disappointment she felt—"but I wanted to be sure. It's hard to trust them but Blaster is a good guy and if you truly care for him, then you two have my full blessing."
"Oh, Vix—thank you so much," she cried, throwing her arms around him one last time to express her gratitude. She felt better doing it now that she knew he didn't like her in that way. "I'm happy you're okay with it."
"Me too." He grinned. "I'm happy to be okay with it too."
She smiled back. "Now I don't have to feel guilty anymore," she stated. "I can like Blaster without worrying about whether or not you'll hate me for life, right?"
"Right," he echoed.
"Oh thank goodness. I didn't want this to be a messy love triangle, or if it wasn't that that upset you, a messy friendship versus lover tangled relationship triangle. This makes things so much easier."
He nodded as she kept talking, now excited:
"We could hang out together! I promise not to make you the third wheel. I'll never leave you out. I'm sure Blaster won't mind. You two used to be friends anyway, right? Sure you have some things to work out, but Blaster is a super open-minded and forgiving guy, you'll see. He's just so sweet and perfect—you'll never meet someone more kind or happy than him. He's always so sunny and smiling and doing his best to make you happy too. And he's so fashionable! His designs are amazing, and so are his tastes. He's a total sweetheart and a heartthrob, really. He's also really chill and we can pretty much talk about anything. I know I sound like a schoolgirl right now, but I just... He's so cute! I really do like him." She giggled giddily. "I love him!"
On the other side, Vix was smiling and nodding but he felt like his heart was still breaking. His smile fell with each word. He'd managed to keep up the happy act long enough to convince her that he was okay, but he really wasn't.
Everything hurt. And it was all because she wasn't his.
The hugs and the good luck kiss on his cheek only made him long for her even more. And while he'd convinced her he didn't have feelings for her, his comment could be taken two ways: "Oh, it's not because I have feelings for you; don't worry" wasn't outright denying he had feelings for her. In fact, it sort of confirmed it if you looked at it from a different angle. He was just denying that his feelings for her was the reason he'd gotten upset, not that he didn't have feelings for her at all. So it was a half-lie, but it was a necessary one. At least I'm being honest with myself, he thought sadly.
As he listened to her continue on about how great Blaster was, his breaking heart continued to break a little more with each word.
She really does love him.
The realization had been building up slowly and slowly with each statement she made, but it still hit with the impact of a bullet through the heart. And Vix was bleeding, bleeding all over the floor.
"Vix, what's wrong?" She stopped her rambling to see his eye misting into white again, trying to heal wounds that she couldn't see.
"Oh, sorry. My eye must be confused." He looked down at his hand, making sure she couldn't see the oncoming tears. "It's probably my hand."
"That's why you don't purposely cut yourself up, idiot," she scolded. "Here, let me—"
"No, it's okay." He quickly pulled his hands back.
"Vix—" she said sternly.
Just then, the announcements came on: "Could Christie please report to Danes' office immediately? I repeat, Christie to Danes' office ASAP, please." The intercom clicked off.
"Looks like you need to go," Vix mumbled.
"No. I'm staying and helping you. Here—"
Danes' voice came on: "Right now. Your father and mother want to see you."
She rolled her eyes. "They're probably mad I left the party early." She glanced down at her outfit. "Shit, I'm not presentable."
"You should go," Vix said quietly.
She stared at him. She knew he was right. So she jumped up and walked toward the door, but she did glance back one last time. "Vix," she said softly, "are you okay?"
He nodded, looking up and smiling. He didn't answer verbally because he couldn't speak around the lump forming in his throat. He smiled instead because he could look up and she wouldn't be able to see his tears. And he was crying because she'd confirmed that his heart was broken with her confirmation of her genuine feelings for Blaster.
But Christie couldn't see any of that. She took his nod as a yes and hurried away, not wanting to get in more trouble than she already was in.
Vix's smile immediately fell and he looked down, wiping his eyes quickly. It's alright, he told himself. She deserves to be happy. As for me, I won't be here much longer so it doesn't matter anyway.
I'll leave tonight at midnight.
Then he left the room.
A few moments passed before Raymond entered again. He'd passed by Christie in the halls, who'd quickly told him everything was okay now and Vix was okay and that he was still in the infirmary but his hand was hurting so she wanted Raymond to check on it.
He knocked on the door. "Vix, are you in here? I heard about your hand from Christie; I want to check on it for you." When no one answered, he peeked inside and looked around. He couldn't see the boy so he opened the door all the way. "Vix...?" He double-checked.
The boy really was gone.
But where had he gone...?
"Hello...?" Christie pushed the door to Danes' office open, stepping inside tentatively. It was dark, and the large windows behind his desk showed that it was raining outside.
As lightning flashed, the chair at her uncle's desk suddenly spun around and Danes was in it, hands folded together in front of his chin. His brow was furrowed and his elbows rested on the table, but he seemed stiff.
Another fork of lightning pierced the air, followed by a clap of thunder, and her parents were briefly illuminated, causing creeping shadows across their faces. They were standing on either side of the desk, faces flat and emotionless, bodies hidden in the shadows.
"Christie," Danes stated, drawing her attention back to him, "we noticed that you left the party early."
"And what on earth are you wearing?" her mother questioned. "Are you not heading back to the party? There are still guests walking about!"
Christie chose to ignore her for the moment. "I was feeling tired," she replied.
"But it was Michael's homecoming party," her mother continued her tirade. "Couldn't you stay for him?"
"I'll see him later, and I already finished my speech and greeting the guests. I was certainly not interested in any more dancing. Besides, Rodriguez was hitting on me and everyone knows he's a slimy weasel."
"More like a mysterious bat," her father murmured.
"Oh, he tries to be," she responded. "But he's gross."
"Honey, he's of very high status. He's a good kid. His parents have a fortune, and he's very talented. He'd be a good match for you," her mother added disapprovingly.
Christie rolled her eyes. "The only thing he's good at is being a slimy weasel. Or a predatory owl. He's just so creepy. He finds his prey and flirts with you to the point of harassment, just like a predator—only to cheat on you when you give him a chance anyway."
"Christie!" her mother admonished, walking over to stand closer to her daughter and husband. "What's going on with my little girl? Such disrespect is not befitting of your status or personality! What if I want to set you up on a date with Rodriguez?"
"I'm just tired," she repeated. "Besides, I don't want you guys arranging a date for me. I don't need one. I hate the idea of being forced to date—I want to find love on my own." And I already have.
"Well, your father and I certainly didn't love each other at first sight, but we had an arranged marriage and we turned out great. We gradually fell in love and are very happy together. Aren't we, Chris?" Maggie turned to him.
He nodded, walking over to join her. He ran a hand through her curls lovingly. "Indeed."
"Ew, gross. Keep the parents lovey-dovey behaviour away from me, your own daughter; please and thanks," Christie said, holding up her hands.
"What I'm saying is," Maggie continued in her scolding voice, "is that arranged marriages or dates can work out too. Sometimes you just need that little push."
"Yeah, but you and Dad are different. You guys had a lot of time before you got married. You had time to fall in love."
"But you and Rodriguez could experience the same thing."
"I'm pretty sure I'd drop him after the first date," Christie responded with a snort.
Her mother sighed. "Oh, Christie—why are you being so difficult tonight of all nights?"
"I'm tired! I just want to go to sleep, but I got called down here instead. We can't always have things go our way, now can we, Mother?" She folded her arms. "And I don't want my parents meddling in my love life. Besides, how do you know I'm not already in love?"
"You wouldn't be," Maggie said confidently, although she and Danes did exchange concerned, knowing looks that made Christie's stomach lurch. "You'd tell me. And if it were a match I didn't approve of, you'd drop it. Because let's be honest, honey. I might love you to the ends of the Earth, but if you loved someone like Vix—that sly fox of a wolf—I'd probably end up strangling you out of blind rage! Which is exactly why you'd tell me and listen to me when I told you to break it off."
"Yeah," she agreed halfheartedly. Her mother's temper had become something of an inside joke within the family, but Christie had a bad feeling Maggie was closer to the truth than they all would've first thought. I would tell you—unless I was in love with Blaster, which I am. Then I couldn't tell you because you'd blow your top and yeah—you'd probably murder the both of us.
"But speaking of boys," Danes began, causing Christie's head to snap towards him. "I've noticed you are spending more and more time with Vix."
"Oh yeah, what was the deal with that mission you gave him? You specifically said he wouldn't get any more missions while being my bodyguard!" Christie cried. "Why can't you stop targeting and bullying Vix into all these missions? He's supposed to stay by my side and protect me!"
"He practically asked me for one," Danes responded, frowning.
She paused. "He...did?"
"Yes. He came in to see me." Danes turned his seat around so he could watch the thunder and lightning rumble outside. Then he turned just slightly so that they could see his gray eyes. "He had a few things to tell me."
"Like what?" she questioned, still confused about the whole mission thing.
"He was giving me a report. He admitted to me about how...close you two had gotten."
"He did that?" she asked in disbelief.
"Of course. Vix wouldn't lie. Or at least, he really shouldn't." Danes ran his hand along the gun that was resting on his desk. "Otherwise there would be some rather...unfortunate consequences."
"Once we found out, of course. But we would find out anyway," Maggie agreed.
Christie felt her throat close up. She didn't like where this conversation was going.
"I of course disapproved of your increasingly close bond with him, so I decided to cut it short." Danes hefted his gun up and looked it over, before putting it back down. "He was quite compliant during the whole ordeal."
"Really?" Christie couldn't imagine Vix giving up their friendship just like that. Maybe it was when he was still upset? And what does Uncle mean by "cut it short"?
"Tell me, Christie. What does Vix see you as?"
"A friend," she answered promptly, still distracted by her other inner questions.
Danes, Maggie, and Chris all shared knowing looks that Christie just missed. That's not what he told us.
Danes cleared his throat. "So as it stands, I am firing him as your bodyguard."
Christie snapped back to attention, her mouth falling open as she gaped at the three adults before her. "You—You can't do that!" she burst out, jumping forward. "He's my bodyguard and my friend!"
Danes glanced back at her. "So he was right about that."
"What...?" she asked, not hearing him over the thunder.
"Nothing." Danes stood up. "Sorry, Christie. But this conversation is over. You are dismissed."
"You...You're being absolutely horrid right now!" she yelled at him, before spinning around and running off. She knew what she had to do. She had to find Vix and demand answers from him. How could he have been so okay and smiling with this knowledge looming over his head? she wondered.
Meanwhile, Danes was staring out the window, reliving the conversation he'd shared with Christie—and the one he'd shared with Vix.
Flashback
"Sir...?" The door creaked open just a little bit.
Danes looked up from his paper and took off his spectacles, rubbing his temples. "Yes? Come in."
The boy who entered was Vix. There was no mistaking the bright red hair. It was a little harder to recognize him because of his suit for the party, when he'd usually be wearing a kimono-like outfit. His hair was also pulled completely back in a neat ponytail, instead of let down or in a messy, shaggy ponytail. But nonetheless, it was clearly him.
"Good evening, Vix. What is it that you need?" Danes asked flatly.
"I came here with a report."
The older man looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Your weekly report is already submitted for this week."
"I won't waste your time, I promise," Vix stated.
"You already have." Danes sighed and pushed his papers forward, rubbing his temples some more. He could feel an oncoming headache. He was running out of time. Dealing with petty reports from someone like Vix was the last thing he needed.
"Sir, please. This is urgent. It has to do with Christie."
This caught Danes' attention. He gazed down at the boy. "And what about my niece?"
"As her bodyguard, I believe that I have been getting unreasonably attached to her," Vix declared after some brief hesitation.
The man arched an eyebrow. "How so?"
Vix clearly hesitated again, but then he took a deep breath and said, "I fell in love with her."
The Earth stopped spinning. The rain beginning to patter outside fell silent. The world stopped moving. Time froze.
And Danes felt himself go numb. "What?" he demanded.
"I've fallen for your niece," Vix repeated. "She's beautiful and kind and smart and gave me a chance when no one else would. It was hard not to. But don't worry about Christie, Sir. She only sees me as a friend."
He stared at the boy for a long, long time. Then he rubbed his temples more furiously than before. "And what do you want me to do with this information? I hope you're not expecting me to approve. Hell, I rather feel like flaying you alive right now."
"I understand, Sir. Which is why I'm asking you to separate us."
Danes could feel the Earth stopping, time slowing, and the world freezing again. He looked up, feeling rather in disbelief. "Pardon...?"
"I'd like you to separate us," Vix said again. "I realize that my feelings are dangerous and treacherous. I realize that I am a lowly omega and nothing more. I do not wish to disturb the balance. And thus, I would like you to give me a mission and separate us."
"...Very well." Danes didn't like it, but he could feel a twinge of respect for the boy's maturity. "Your new mission will be helping out with the war in any way you can. You are especially expendable with your healing Eye, so be sure to focus a lot on fighting and spying. Some time away may clear you of your...sentiments." Danes curled his lip back, mildly disgusted.
"Yessir." Vix did a salute. "Thank you, Sir. And I'm sorry about your niece. I hope you find a good match for Christie that both of them will be batty about. In fact, I...already have someone in mind."
"That's fine, Vix. Now, please leave me to my reports," Danes sighed.
"Yessir. I didn't mean to overstep any boundaries, Sir."
Danes didn't answer; he didn't even look up—instead, he just shooed Vix away.
End Flashback
Danes stared out the window. He still couldn't quite believe it.
Vix loves Christie?
Every time he thought about it, the universe seemed to break as everything stopped. But Danes was glad that everything had been dealt with accordingly. He may have to find a new bodyguard for Christie, but with Vix out in the war, he could quicken the pace of victory. Vix's healing powers meant he could throw himself into more risks and dangers, which was just fine by Danes. Especially now that he knew Vix had fallen for Christie.
What a shame. I was just starting to appreciate him. Danes sighed. At least I managed to get Christie to confirm Vix's comment about her just seeing him as a friend. He rubbed his temples. This is ridiculous.
"I'm glad that ass is out of the picture. I hope he dies in battle. He doesn't deserve my daughter at all," Maggie was muttering, seething. Chris said nothing, simply stroking her hair.
Danes glanced at her, briefly wondering how serious she was. He wasn't quite sure how he himself felt about Vix anymore. The boy had proven himself to be useful, and had been in the household for so long, he almost felt like he belonged. Almost. Danes sighed, turning his eyes back to the window.
"We shall see what happens," he murmured solemnly, his eyes blank. His head was drifting again... Memories were spilling down like the rain outside.
Flashback
Danes remembered the gathering at the café as if it had just happened yesterday, with Sylvie still there. She was wearing a large red sweater over a long, flowing white sundress. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders as she drank some tea, resting a hand on her bulging belly.
"The morning sickness was especially bad today," she was sighing, sipping at the warm liquid. "I swear this baby wants me to suffer before he's born."
The men all exchanged looks, clearly all relieved they wouldn't have to live through the suffering of a pregnant woman.
Danes recalled the first ultrasound the parents-to-be had been shown, everyone being filled with joy and excitement. The ultrasounds had revealed that the baby would be a boy, which Damon had claimed jokingly that he'd already guessed.
Maggie had married Chris a few years before Tyrone and Sylvie, and she was also pregnant with a child—another child, in fact. They already had a daughter. Their next child was going to be a son, and he was to be a few months older than Sylvie's son.
Maggie was sitting with them too, sipping at her own tea. She was wearing a large hoodie over her own pregnant belly. "I know how you feel, sister," she said, clearly taking pity on Sylvie. "I swear you'd think it'd be easier the second time around, but really it's just as hard as before."
"When you put it like that, I don't know if I would want another kid," Sylvie joked.
"Throwing up constantly and craving weird food is pretty frustrating," agreed Maggie. "Definitely something I could live without. But darling..." She placed her hand on her friend's hand. "Don't let that stop you. Creating life is such a beautiful thing... Bringing these kids into the world and loving them is so wonderful and amazing," she breathed.
"I agree wholeheartedly," Sylvie replied, giving her friend's hand a squeeze.
As the two shared a smile, Tyrone glanced at Damon. "Well that was a shift in tone. Hormones, maybe?"
Damon laughed, but Danes watched him with mild suspicion. He wasn't one to care much about the romantic drama that had occurred between his friends (he would note that it was dumb, however), but he did sometimes wonder just how over Sylvie Damon really was. Danes could see the way he sometimes looked at her, as if he still wanted her.
But Damon was a good, gallant man, and Danes had never seen reason to suspect him before. So he mostly ignored his feelings of doubt, especially since the failed romance between him and Sylvie seemed too petty and behind them to be of any consequences.
...Oh, how wrong had he been about that.
End Flashback
Back in the present, Danes sighed and rested his forehead against the cool glass. His head was pounding now, and it was diving into icy, frigid, fierce waves of memories that he wasn't prepared to face yet.
Ross' birth. Sylvie's death. Tyrone's breakdown. Tyrone's death. Or rather, Damon's murdering of Tyrone.
And most of all, a burning cabin that loomed over the horizon, the smell of smoke filling his nostrils. The flames were blinding; they scorched the earth and sky and pierced his eyes, a reminder of death and failure. It had been a mistake.
But it had happened, and he'd managed to take Vix before the flames engulfed the building. They'd thought that Damon had died. And Danes had felt guilty at first for the longest time.
But then Maggie and Chris vanished, and Ross was shot, and Michael was shot, and the war began again, and chaos after chaos would unfold. It all cultivated into Damon revealing that he was still alive.
Damon. Alive. And insane.
He'd kidnapped Christie. Danes remembered rage and hatred consuming him when he'd found out. The man that had captured his niece was not his friend. The man that had captured his niece was merely a shadow of his former self; delusional and demented. He was filled with hatred just as much as Danes was, with a thirst for vengeance he would never have expected from Damon. But then again, it was unlike Damon as well when he killed Tyrone.
Danes couldn't help but wonder what the hell had gone wrong. Damon never showed any signs of snapping. He was always the perfect, courteous gentleman, with social skills and good manners that all people would be jealous of. Danes knew Tyrone looked up to his friend, and he couldn't imagine the betrayal Tyrone must've felt when the dagger had been stabbed into his skin.
Searing flashes of pain tore into Danes' head as memories of that day came back; Tyrone's cold, lifeless body on the floor. The blood—there had been so, so much of it—all over the body and floor and soon all over the household's hands as they investigated the scene. And Ross—poor, innocent, sweet Ross—all that blood on one boy—a boy who just wanted his father to wake up again.
Even though he never would.
Danes didn't cry. He wasn't weak or helpless. He made sure he always had control. And yet, in that moment, Danes could feel the tears longing to form and fall, as they had been trying to for the past few weeks. He'd worked so hard to build up a rock-hard exterior, but he was slowly losing it. All of it.
And now he had found out that Vix loved Christie. How on Earth had that happened? Perhaps Vix had been lying. Perhaps he was just being the lazy child everyone in the household saw him as, avoiding duties and leaving Christie with such an outlandish excuse because she annoyed him. Despite the horridness of such a motive, Danes found himself preferring it over the "truth" he'd been presented with.
He wondered if it really was true. And if it were, why was Vix willing to sacrifice his connection with her? Maybe he had learned from Damon and knew that if he stayed by her side, he'd never have her because his status prevented it. He thought he'd go crazy like Damon so he was leaving her behind. But the problem was, Vix didn't seem like the type of person to do that. He was the kind who broke rules and fell in love with her anyway, probably trying to whisk her away from right under Danes' nose. So why? Was he doing it for Christie, who didn't approve?
Danes groaned silently to himself, rubbing the area between his eyes. His head was hurting quite a lot now, and he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to leave everything behind. He hoped sleep could help him recover, giving him time to fix the cracks that were appearing in his thick exterior walls.
"Danes, the papers...?" Chris suddenly manifested by his side, placing a firm hand on his brother's shoulder that dragged the man back to reality.
Being pulled out of his swirling thoughts, he looked up. Once the words had finished sinking in, he snapped to attention and began pacing. "Leave them. I am exhausted to the point of a headache. I shall be retiring to my chambers for tonight." He stopped walking back and forth and sighed. "You should get some sleep too, my brother. Especially if you plan on carrying out that mission of yours. You as well, Maggie. Go to bed."
The two lovers shared knowing looks and nodded. "Good night, Danes," they said as they slipped out the double-doors.
He watched them leave and close the doors. Then he glanced out the window one more time. The rain had slowed a little bit, but it was still falling hard and fast. Lightning and thunder appeared less often, but they still flashed here and there.
He paused when a bright burst of lightning shattered the dark sky. Was that a shadowy figure he saw running across the courtyard out into the road?
He shook his head to clear it. Of course not, he thought. Why on Earth would someone be going out at this hour? No one, that's who—because no one is insane enough for that stunt. He sighed, rubbing his temples one more time before rummaging for pills in his desk drawer. Perhaps I'm the one who's really insane here.
After all, anybody going out in this weather would surely only have a death wish.
Ross couldn't believe he was going out at such a late hour. I must be insane, he thought, or have a death wish for me to be going out in this weather.
As he ran through the courtyard, his heart pounding, he felt like someone was watching him. But when he looked up, there was no one there. There could have been a silhouette in the trees or someone at the window in Danes' office, but Ross figured he was just imagining things.
At least, I hope I am. Danes would kill me if he ever found out about my plans, the boy thought, shivering.
The scariest thing though, was that Ross could've been running to his death anyway.
He finally stopped when he reached the field that was Damon's cabin. He was soaking wet and could barely stay up, falling and staggering through the tall grass. He struggled to the cabin against harsh winds and clambered all around the house, trying to find a good secret opening.
A flash of lightning revealed the answer.
It was a small hole in a cracked window near the roof, and it would be just small enough for him to fit through if he really squeezed. So Ross got up there and slipped inside, descending lightly to the ground below. He glanced around, wondering where he was.
Then he noticed a small flash of light flickering nearby.
As he wandered toward it, sticking to the shadows, he could see more and more lights twinkling. They were all part of an intricate monitor system, with many, many screens displaying what cameras were showing wherever they were planted.
And it was terrifying because there were cameras watching Danes' house. The two that were on showed the room where Raymond was sleeping, and the infirmary right beside his room. Raymond was actually just tidying things up in the infirmary at the moment, before walking out and into the next camera, where he began preparing for bed.
Ross watched in terror, unable to look away. It was horrifying, knowing that Damon could see so many things. Where are the cameras hidden? he wondered, feeling chills race down his spine.
And then one of the shut down monitors clicked on, with the static cleared to show him sitting in front of all the other screens.
And there was someone watching behind him, smiling creepily with wide, hungry eyes.
"I see you~!" the person cooed. "I also see you've found my hidden monitors."
Ross spun around as soon as he heard the sly, smug voice, his heart pounding. "It's you," he whispered.
"Oh yes. It is me. The one you were looking for when you chose to break into my home." Sliding out of the shadows was none other than Damon himself, and he slowly drew up to his real size; tall and scary, with messy brown hair and flashing golden eyes and a sinister, sharp-toothed smirk.
"Wh-What do you want from me?" Ross stammered.
"I believe that is the question I should be asking," Damon replied smoothly, his voice sounding like spilling oil. He slowly pulled his hood back over his head and added, "So, my dear, what brings you to my humble abode?"
"I wanted answers," he explained, his voice shaking as he scrambled backwards.
"So did I," Damon agreed, nodding at the monitors. He smiled in amusement. "But I never broke into your house for it. Such a bold, brave move." He paused, his smile turning sour and dark briefly as his eyes narrowed. "Foolish, but brave." Then he smiled again.
Ross stood up, suddenly feeling brave and defiant too thanks to his words, which he wanted to both prove (the brave part) and disprove (the foolish part). "Y-Yeah, well—you're breaking into our private lives with these monitors!"
Damon laughed. "Oh, poor sweet, innocent Ross. How naïve you are to think that I could carry out any plans of mine without spying on all of you."
"So tell me what they are. What are your plans?" he demanded.
He stopped laughing. "I don't know if you deserve to know," he purred, "...you know?"
"Tell me what they are," Ross repeated, wondering if Damon actually functioned on any kind of logic at all, and whether or not appealing to his insanity would get him any answers.
The man tilted his head to the side and smiled sickeningly. "Well, first off—they have you in them."
And then Ross saw the men lunging at him. There was Harry, whom he recognized, and two other wolves he didn't quite know. As they tackled him to the ground, one of them stabbed their claws into the flesh near his pounding heart, causing him to scream in agony.
The blood splattered onto Damon's cheek and his lips, which he licked off. "Oh, Ross..." he said as he gazed down at the boy. "You've walked straight into my trap, making things so much easier for me."
"You...monster," Ross spat, struggling to stay awake and to stay brave.
"That's what we all are," he agreed, smiling. "Monsters."
Ross tried to pull away but his predators were holding fast, and his consciousness was slipping far too quickly. "Let...me...go," he gasped painfully.
"On the contrary, my boy. I think I'll keep you as a little souvenir. A pet, if you will. I've always wanted a pet bat that sneaks around in the shadows like a coward." Damon's face was dark, his chilling smile not quite reaching his eyes. He walked forward and stepped his shoe onto Ross' face gently. "Just like you." Then he smashed his foot down harder, forcing Ross' head into the floor as his nose began bleeding.
Harry looked up in horror, clearly not expecting his employer to go to such extremes. Ross wondered dizzily if Harry even knew who his employer really was yet, or if he was just working for him. Because surely the truth about Damon's identity would cause him to immediately drop his missions? Ross opened his mouth to tell Harry that he was working for none other than Damon, but the words wouldn't come.
Damon was smiling triumphantly and smugly, as if he had just won a game.
Ross, meanwhile, groaned deliriously as he began drifting in and out of consciousness. Despite all the searing pain, he managed to focus shakily on Damon, the image of the man blurry—although the creepy psychotic smile was clearly still on his face.
Damon grabbed Ross' collar and pulled him upwards. He leaned forward until their noses were just inches apart, his smile now almost as clear as day. It was just blurry enough for Ross to see two of the man though, which only made it more terrifying. And as Damon spoke, Ross thought he could hear two of his voice too, as if it were echoing demonically:
"You're not the only one I've lured here, you know. There's one more target coming. You two fell for this trap hook, line, and sinker."
And that was when Ross finally lost consciousness, slipping into a Wonderland filled with psychotic Mad Hatters and killer Queens of Hearts.
*(A/N: Reference to chapter 60!)
ME: And thus, another chapter has been finished! *celebratory jazz hands*
BANANA: Wow... Drama sure happened this time.
ME: *cheerfully* It sure did! Look, Vix is broken, Ross is kidnapped, Damon is still evil...
BANDIT: I don't think any of that warrants such an upbeat tone.
ME: But you got it on with Bunny! Is that not reason to celebrate?
BANDIT: *blushes madly* Barely! A-And besides, there's so much more awful stuff going on there's no reason to celebrate just because of us.
BRAKER: But there is reason to celebrate because of us! Right, Bliss? *blows kazoo, throws confetti*
BLISS: Uhh...I think Bandit has a point, Braker. I don't think it's very appropriate to celebrate us yet. Besides, we didn't have that much of a moment to warrant a party anyway.
BRAKER: *pouts* Fiiiiiiine.
ME: Well, let's have you guys celebrate in your own way by leaving a review! Tell us what you thought of the chapter!
BLASTER: I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for more~
BRAKER: Yeah! *blows kazoo triumphantly*