Between the Shadows
By: Ethereal Fury
Chapter Twelve: Should I Stay or Should I Go?
Zephyr was waiting outside the tavern, pacing impatiently and checking his watch. What in the world was taking her so long? She was forcing him to walk her; she could at least hurry up. Come on Leonstrife, you know she ain't forcing you. You could say no if you wanted to, so why didn't you? his inner self inquired gleefully. He gritted his teeth and shoved his hands in his pockets. Would his smart-mouthed 'conscience' ever shut up? It was worse than Reed—at least he could kick Reed's ass into quiet submission.
As if to spite him, his inner voice continued undeterred. Because you liiiike her. Ooooooh! Zephy and Aurora sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…it chanted mirthfully in an unnaturally high singsong voice. Zephyr gritted his teeth harder, willing it to be quiet, but it just kept chanting in its ever-annoying high-pitched voice, taunting him. With an exasperated sigh, he approached the wooden door. Dammit, if she wasn't going to come out, he was going to go in there and drag…
Zephyr couldn't finish his murderous thought. Before he could reach to knock on the door, it was pulled open and for the second time that day, a blur of white, brown, and blue crashed forcefully against his chest. The collision made him stumble backwards and threatened to cause both figures to tumble to the cold, unfeeling ground in an unceremonious heap. This time, however, his lightning-quick reflexes prevailed and in a flash his arms had found their way to her slim waist, keeping them both upright.
He winced inwardly and let out a small grunt as her arms, crushed between their bodies, hit a soft spot in his bruised ribs, courtesy of his afternoon of training. But other than that momentary surge of pain, the feel of her forehead against his chest was quite comforting. The soft silkiness of her cinnamon tresses tickling his cheek as she shifted in his arms and the sweetly intoxicating coconut smell of her hair, mixing with the salty essence of Zion's sea breeze, inundated his senses. For a minute, Zephyr could think of nothing but remaining like that for eternity in a peaceful, everlasting bliss with no worries about assassinations, Akademy exam scores, fights with Reed, blatant flirtations by Instructors, or disheartening visits to his younger sister; just living.
Aurora gave a startled yelp as she felt her feet lose contact with the ground and herself hurtling forwards towards the hard cobblestone of the darkened street, only to have her fall broken by the unexpected sensation of strong arms firmly latching onto her waist. Not just arms, his arms. Her mind couldn't seem to logically register how one minute she was running out the door, giving chase to the man that had her flustered and confused, making her behave like a thirteen-year-old, and the next she was nestled comfortably against his firm chest. Instead, it was much more caught up in his proximity, noticing every single detail about him up close.
How the leather of his unzipped jacket felt refreshing against her warm skin and how underneath it, his black shirt felt soft against her cheek. How his muscles rippled beneath the shirt as he adjusted his grip on her waist. How his strong and lean physique was in reality soft and comfortable, like a pillow or an overstuffed teddy bear. How his breath tickled the top of her head every time he exhaled. How he smelled like the exotic spices sold in the market— minty, sweet, and tangy at the same time. How the dim moonlight reflected off the heavy and intricate platinum chain he wore around his neck. She shifted in his embrace, settling for the more cozy position of her cheek against the left side of his chest and her forehead against the crook of his neck. She could hear the rhythmic and furious beating of his heart and feel the blood pounding in his veins. Aurora felt a wave of seeming elation wash over her—could he really feel something for her?
"You smell nice," she murmured without realizing it, shutting her eyes, her breath softly tickling the sensitive skin on Zephyr's neck.
Zephyr was too distracted by his conflicting thoughts and the pleasurable feeling of her warm breath against his neck to hear what she had said. He was battling inwardly with himself—the logical, analytical half of him screaming at him to pull away fast, the other, more sentimental half he had kept suppressed for as long as he could remember ordering him to tighten the embrace. Come on, you like her, just give in! one side urged vehemently.
Yeah right. Dammit Leonstrife, you don't have time for this sentimental crap. You have a gunblade to pick up and an Akademy to get back to before you get in so much shit it won't even be funny cause you'll be in detention until the day you die. March your cute butt out of here, walk her wherever the hell she wants to go, then get the hell out—and stay away, the other argued back. Zephyr didn't know what to do—stay or go? Why did it have to be so hard to just pull away? He'd never been attached to anyone but Storm, why her now all of a sudden? He didn't need this! He needed to focus on what the Boss had told him, assassinate the President, get his pay, graduate from ZEG, and move out of Zion; he didn't have time for petty teenage attractions. But then why couldn't he just release her, turn, and walk off into the night? Did her forehead against his neck have to feel so darned comforting? In pure confusion, he muttered the first thing that popped into his mind. "Huh?"
"You smell nice," she repeated, nodding her head as if to emphasize her point—which just resulted in her lightly nuzzling his neck.
Zephyr shut his eyes tightly and willed his heart to stop pounding uncontrollably. Damn her for doing this to him; causing emotions he had long rid himself of to resurface. Damn her for quickening his pulse with her presence and making him want to smile. Damn her for getting through to him and seeing past the callous, stoic façade. Damn her for plainly being herself… and damn him for falling for it. He couldn't afford to feel anything for her; in a week he would be assassinating the President of his country. Regardless of the outcome, whether it was discovered that he had done it or not, he would be leaving Zion and Zanark never to return, never to see her again. No, he wouldn't go through that a second time. Without another word, he pulled away as abruptly as he had caught her, turned on his heel, and walked briskly deeper into Zion's alleyways, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black jeans and head bowed.
***
R&R!