Our Vacation
By Skye Rocket
Chapter Five
*********
I had moved to the floor, and Christian lay out on the couch. Trevor and Satine were still seeing Spiderman. The two of us had been answering each other's questions for at least half an hour.
"Okay, okay," Christian said, settling the two of us down from his previous answer. "Okay. It's my turn. What is one thing you don't believe in?" I looked up at him, and his eyes glimmered.
"That's a tough one," I started. I rested my hand on top of my hand. "I do not believe in love," I sighed. Christian's smile faded. I had done it now, I supposed.
"You don't?" Christian gasped. I almost rolled my eyes. I had called him insane, obsessive, treated him like he was stupid and naïve, but *this* was what shocked him most?! "You do not believe in love," he repeated, sounding like the reality was just sinking in slowly, like the Coke I had spilled in the bathroom had been absorbed in.
"That's right," I proclaimed a bit shyly. He was still gaping at me like I had a huge knife protruding from my skull. Christian unconsciously grasped my hands. He searched my eyes.
"Have you ever been in love?" Christian asked. I rolled my eyes around in their sockets.
"No I have not, and until I see it firsthand, I'll hold fast to my beliefs," I said stubbornly. Christian was still schocked.
"Love is like oxygen! Love is a many splendored thing! Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!" Christian passionately proclaimed, almost singing. I stared agape at him.
"What?" I asked uncertainly. He sighed and shook his head. "Well, what if I never fall in love?" I asked, trying to find a fault in his argument.
"Listen, dear, let me tell you a little story; a story about me." He saw me roll my eyes again. "No, really!"
"All righty," I said, still not convinced.
"Once upon a time there was a boy. A very strange, enchanted boy."
"What?" I asked again. He motioned for me to be quiet.
"He was pretty much obsessed with the idea of love. His father hated that. But he persisted. And there was only one problem: this boy had never been in love. But then one day he met the most perfect, lovely, gorgeous, radiant, lovable, wondrous," Christian paused. "Sorry. I'm rambling. He met the woman of his dreams and they fell in love!"
"Figures," I murmured.
"Anyway, you can relate to this. Don't give up on love just because it hasn't come your way yet, Mary," Christian said strongly. "Besides, someday, some fellow is going to see you for how sweet, and smart, and how good you are at conversations." I smiled and patted Christian's cheek.
"Aww, Christian," I said wistfully. "Why can't all guys be as sweet as you?" And I wasn't lying. Christian was by far the most kind guy I had every met. Even if we fought (a lot. I won't lie to you.). I sighed and sat in silence for a second. "So. What do you like to do?"
"Write, sing." Christian grinned. "Be with Satine."
"Ooh, the dedicated boyfriend," I chortled. He blushed but nodded profusely. I smirked.
"What do you like to do?" He turned the question around back to me.
"Eat candy, write the occasional poem, think up new vocabulary words," I said. "I have absolutely no life," I added wistfully. "I may be considered 'anti-social' by some people." Christian nodded sympathetically.
"Well, you aren't like everyone else. Be glad of that," he said, patting me on the back in a friendly gesture. I never expected things to occur like this. At first I hated Christian. With a passion. I had stayed up late thinking of interesting and stinging comebacks. Now I saw that, gasp, I could relate to him. And not just the fact that we hated each other.
"Uh. What was your childhood like?" I asked politely.
"Strict, in a word." I smiled. "I had manners drilled into me. Forced to learn things the polite way instead of having fun like a little boy should. I never had to many friends either," he said, kind of remorsefully. "And my mother died when I was young. The only person who ever had any role in raising me was my father." Christian sniffed a bit. "I don't even remember my mother," he added.
"Oh. I'm sorry," I said sympathetically. "But your manner-drilling has made you such a gentleman!" I tried to look on the bright side of things. Christian gave a semi-bitter smile. But I could tell he was only half- listening to me. A small tear dripped from his eye and landed on the sofa, leaving a wet mark.
Another followed the small trail that the first had left, and another, and another, and another. I held him in my arms, his tears lightly wetting my shirt's shoulder. I petted his hair gently in an attempt to comfort him.
"It's okay," I said to him quietly. It made no difference what I said. Christian was lost, for now, to his sad memories. I instantly regretted asking the question. His shoulders shook violently and made small cooing noises as he cried.
I remained looking calm and collected on the outside. But on the inside I was panicking. What was I going to do for poor Christian? I asked myself. I sucked when it came to comforting people who obviously were collapsing right before my eyes.
"Don't worry," I said in a semi-reassuring way. He continued to cry onto my shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly together and tears leaking through. I continued lightly dusting my fingers over the hair on the back of his head. "Don't cry, please," I begged, so quiet even I could barely hear it. Christian shivered and gulped slightly.
I had never felt so helpless and I continued doing what I had been doing. I had no idea what to do with someone who was hysterical. At least he wasn't throwing plates and cups. Never mind most of our kitchenware was plastic.
I just sat, doing my absolute best. Christian pulled away slightly and looked at my, with glistening eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said in a wavering, weak voice.
"It's all right," I said. "Don't worry about it. And you can talk to me anytime. I promise," I added, figuring he might need someone to talk to. Poor guy.
*************
Ooh, all together now: Poor Christian! Wah…
Hrmph. I have a sunburn and the skin on my nose it peeling, which looks very creepy, if you made an inquiry to my opinion. And I tried to put some powder on it, which only emphasized it! Gah! Please review. Hope you enjoyed! *thumbs up*
Next Time Will Be Soon,
Skye Rocket
By Skye Rocket
Chapter Five
*********
I had moved to the floor, and Christian lay out on the couch. Trevor and Satine were still seeing Spiderman. The two of us had been answering each other's questions for at least half an hour.
"Okay, okay," Christian said, settling the two of us down from his previous answer. "Okay. It's my turn. What is one thing you don't believe in?" I looked up at him, and his eyes glimmered.
"That's a tough one," I started. I rested my hand on top of my hand. "I do not believe in love," I sighed. Christian's smile faded. I had done it now, I supposed.
"You don't?" Christian gasped. I almost rolled my eyes. I had called him insane, obsessive, treated him like he was stupid and naïve, but *this* was what shocked him most?! "You do not believe in love," he repeated, sounding like the reality was just sinking in slowly, like the Coke I had spilled in the bathroom had been absorbed in.
"That's right," I proclaimed a bit shyly. He was still gaping at me like I had a huge knife protruding from my skull. Christian unconsciously grasped my hands. He searched my eyes.
"Have you ever been in love?" Christian asked. I rolled my eyes around in their sockets.
"No I have not, and until I see it firsthand, I'll hold fast to my beliefs," I said stubbornly. Christian was still schocked.
"Love is like oxygen! Love is a many splendored thing! Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!" Christian passionately proclaimed, almost singing. I stared agape at him.
"What?" I asked uncertainly. He sighed and shook his head. "Well, what if I never fall in love?" I asked, trying to find a fault in his argument.
"Listen, dear, let me tell you a little story; a story about me." He saw me roll my eyes again. "No, really!"
"All righty," I said, still not convinced.
"Once upon a time there was a boy. A very strange, enchanted boy."
"What?" I asked again. He motioned for me to be quiet.
"He was pretty much obsessed with the idea of love. His father hated that. But he persisted. And there was only one problem: this boy had never been in love. But then one day he met the most perfect, lovely, gorgeous, radiant, lovable, wondrous," Christian paused. "Sorry. I'm rambling. He met the woman of his dreams and they fell in love!"
"Figures," I murmured.
"Anyway, you can relate to this. Don't give up on love just because it hasn't come your way yet, Mary," Christian said strongly. "Besides, someday, some fellow is going to see you for how sweet, and smart, and how good you are at conversations." I smiled and patted Christian's cheek.
"Aww, Christian," I said wistfully. "Why can't all guys be as sweet as you?" And I wasn't lying. Christian was by far the most kind guy I had every met. Even if we fought (a lot. I won't lie to you.). I sighed and sat in silence for a second. "So. What do you like to do?"
"Write, sing." Christian grinned. "Be with Satine."
"Ooh, the dedicated boyfriend," I chortled. He blushed but nodded profusely. I smirked.
"What do you like to do?" He turned the question around back to me.
"Eat candy, write the occasional poem, think up new vocabulary words," I said. "I have absolutely no life," I added wistfully. "I may be considered 'anti-social' by some people." Christian nodded sympathetically.
"Well, you aren't like everyone else. Be glad of that," he said, patting me on the back in a friendly gesture. I never expected things to occur like this. At first I hated Christian. With a passion. I had stayed up late thinking of interesting and stinging comebacks. Now I saw that, gasp, I could relate to him. And not just the fact that we hated each other.
"Uh. What was your childhood like?" I asked politely.
"Strict, in a word." I smiled. "I had manners drilled into me. Forced to learn things the polite way instead of having fun like a little boy should. I never had to many friends either," he said, kind of remorsefully. "And my mother died when I was young. The only person who ever had any role in raising me was my father." Christian sniffed a bit. "I don't even remember my mother," he added.
"Oh. I'm sorry," I said sympathetically. "But your manner-drilling has made you such a gentleman!" I tried to look on the bright side of things. Christian gave a semi-bitter smile. But I could tell he was only half- listening to me. A small tear dripped from his eye and landed on the sofa, leaving a wet mark.
Another followed the small trail that the first had left, and another, and another, and another. I held him in my arms, his tears lightly wetting my shirt's shoulder. I petted his hair gently in an attempt to comfort him.
"It's okay," I said to him quietly. It made no difference what I said. Christian was lost, for now, to his sad memories. I instantly regretted asking the question. His shoulders shook violently and made small cooing noises as he cried.
I remained looking calm and collected on the outside. But on the inside I was panicking. What was I going to do for poor Christian? I asked myself. I sucked when it came to comforting people who obviously were collapsing right before my eyes.
"Don't worry," I said in a semi-reassuring way. He continued to cry onto my shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly together and tears leaking through. I continued lightly dusting my fingers over the hair on the back of his head. "Don't cry, please," I begged, so quiet even I could barely hear it. Christian shivered and gulped slightly.
I had never felt so helpless and I continued doing what I had been doing. I had no idea what to do with someone who was hysterical. At least he wasn't throwing plates and cups. Never mind most of our kitchenware was plastic.
I just sat, doing my absolute best. Christian pulled away slightly and looked at my, with glistening eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said in a wavering, weak voice.
"It's all right," I said. "Don't worry about it. And you can talk to me anytime. I promise," I added, figuring he might need someone to talk to. Poor guy.
*************
Ooh, all together now: Poor Christian! Wah…
Hrmph. I have a sunburn and the skin on my nose it peeling, which looks very creepy, if you made an inquiry to my opinion. And I tried to put some powder on it, which only emphasized it! Gah! Please review. Hope you enjoyed! *thumbs up*
Next Time Will Be Soon,
Skye Rocket