Absence of the Heart

By Kay

Author's Notes: Well, here it is-- part four of the fic. ^^;; I don't think I've ever gotten this far before in long-term fanfiction... yay!!! Anyway. In this part, it's really damn cold. I probably haven't mentioned that. But it is. Really damn cold, I mean. Right then. :D Moving on!

Not nearly as serious as the last chapter, although not very funny either. Okay, still serious. Gah. How did this turn into an angsty fic?! Stupid muses...

Once again, I will tell you *all* the solomn truth you are avoiding! The truth of Everworld! It is simply this, and only this:

Jalil is damn sexy.

... it helps that I have a compulsive desire to hug and fuss over him.

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It was a little like burning, Jalil thought numbly.

Like the fire of passion Christopher had started in the bar, but far less pleasant. It ate at him, charring his insides, overwhelming him like dark waters until he swore he was going to choke. His breath felt short on his lips. His eyes were stinging.

All he knew was he wanted to get away from Christopher. Get away from the cruel words, the sharp glance that left nothing to the imagination. There hadn't been any friendship between them that night, nothing worth the warm feeling that had gathered in him. It was all a lie, a ruse, because he was bored, the bastard, just playing with him, just waiting to do this to him--

'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...'

And even now, knowing that those words shouldn't make him feel this betrayed, he kept running. As far as he could get. Past stores and inns and fairyfolk glancing at him in wary distrust, until his chest hurt, and his legs slowed against his will. Until, finally, he felt himself fall against part of a wall, using the wooden structure to support his shaking body. Slipped down gently onto the ground, leaning his back against it, gasping in cold air to sate his hungry lungs.

His eyes stung sharply for a moment, against his will. Jalil squeezed them shut tightly, still gulping in the chilled air surrounding him.

'This is why you don't let people get close to you, remember?' a familiar, quiet voice asked in his mind. 'Now you're going to have to explain to him--'

"Why couldn't I just ignore him?" whispered Jalil desperately, ignoring the soft chiding in his mind for a moment. "Why couldn't I-I..."

He let out a low, struggling sob and bent his head. Trying to force the pain back. The tears he realized, with great alarm, were starting to come before he could stop them. He hated that helpless feeling, knowing the hurt wasn't going to end just because he demanded it would. Hated even more knowing how little it had taken Christopher to hurt him.

"I sh-should have ignored him..." Jalil pushed out chokingly, as though trying to convince himself he had done wrong.

The voice in his mind sighed in a faded, weary sort of way-- the only stable, sure point he had in his chaotic emotions at the moment.

'No one can ignore the people they care for...'

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When Christopher was six, his mother had a bottle of expensive perfume.

It wasn't just any perfume; on their last anniversary, his father had given it to her as a gift. Expensive stuff indeed, the crystal bottle it came in costed nearly as much as the fragrent liquid itself. And the perfume, well... its fancy French name hid a beautiful, wafing scent of lilacs and citris tang. He had thought, years later, that it smelled of lilacs and cranberry.

An interesting combination, but stunning when actually put together.

His mother had loved that stuff. Christopher could remember the way she treated it like precious water in a desert, using as little as possible in order to spread it out. How she set it on the highest dresser in her room, glittering in the sunlight that shone through her bedroom window. Tempting, forbidden.

When his parents left one night, he decorated his entire room with it.

He put the bottle back. He even filled it with water, hoping she wouldn't use it enough to notice. Somehow, with all the careful planning he did-- he'd forgotten that his bedroom was now extremely scented with lilacs and cranberries. Mom knew the second she walked in the door. Ages of scoldings and threats, and the sight of his mother crying just a little, just enough for tears to well up in his own eyes. Enough that he never touched anything she loved again.

Christopher never forgot that night. And now, with the late night hush of abandoned streets surrounding him, it came back to his memory in full force. Of course. The feeling of chargin and upset was nearly the same.

'Once again, I do something totally stupid, and someone else pays for it.

He winced.

When wasn't that new? Somehow, this time, it was different than his usual insults or jibes into the population. Guilt was settling heavily on his shoulders, making a nice little home for itself. He couldn't forget the pain in Jalil's dark eyes-- the beginnings, faint and almost unseen, of tears in the mahogany colour.

I saw it in her eyes that night. I'm seeing it again. What the hell was I thinking? That wasn't humor or a good-natured insult, that was cruelty...'

But wasn't that what he had been aiming for? Something to get the stern teenager to show some human emotions? See the person beneath all that smug confidence and cool anti-social behavior? A sick, unsettling feeling was pooling in his stomache.

'You saw him like that before. You saw him smile-- and it made you want to keep it. Did you want his tears, too, you asshole?'

God, he hated himself sometimes.

'At least regain some sort of humanity, and go apologize,' his entire being ordered firmly, attempting to lift the dazed look from his face. 'Go make things right again.'

He didn't know what he would say or do. But Christopher's feet moved almost of their own accord, fueled by the fact that he was now all alone in the street. Past the buildings, a quick jog as he glanced left and right every now and then to check the sides of the street. No one was out anymore.

'He couldn't have gone far. It's freezing out here, and he was pretty out of it.' No one on the streetway but him, his feet hitting the pavement smartly. His breath was coming out in puffs of white fog. 'I know he went this way... thank god it's a straight path...'

Then there was the matter of what he would do when he got there. Best case scenario, he would apologize, and Jalil would already be his usual stoic self. Most likely, the dark-eyed teenager would make some snappy retort, and never mention it again. They would go on like this night had been a long, godawful nightmare.

'Do you really want that to happen?'

It was better than the alternative, Christopher told himself darkly. Worst case scenario, Jalil was still upset with him. Considering he didn't know the first thing about comforting people like Jalil, it would end up one giant, evil mess. There was a huge chance he could screw up in there, and make things worse instead of better. A huge chance.

'Do you really want him to ignore you again? Forget about earlier, in the hotel?'

The hotel. How far away it seemed now, shoved in the back of his mind like an ancient toy he had in childhood, the one stored somewhere deep in the attic. But thinking of it again was more than enough to help the memories resurface-- and conflicts.

'I don't want him. I don't care what my body thinks,' he vowed to himself, slowing his jog reluctantly to deal with the new onslaught. 'And I sure as hell don't feel anything more than friendship for him.'

But he'd been so very warm. And he felt so nice, a quiet sort of burning that he worked into Christopher's body, a feeling of contentment and need he hadn't felt for a long time. Jalil had even laughed, a true sound that echoed with all the pure mirth he could contain. He'd smiled more than once. Gazed at him with serious, contemplating eyes as though he were an equal.

His inner voice spoke up with a simple and soft phrase. 'When everything's alright with the world, a man makes his home there.'

Christopher stopped in his tracks.

'Maybe you learn to hate him, maybe you want him more than you should. Maybe you need him over all other things. Maybe you'll start to wish you'd never had this night. But is it worth the chance, to have that feeling again? To keep it?'

There was an odd sort of pain in his chest. Almost familiar, but not quite. Silently, he closed his eyes and sighed softly in the night.

Goddamn voices of reason. Or, Christopher reflected finally with a slow grin, maybe voices of some other kind. Maybe his mind. Or his wishes. Maybe even though his heart was gone at the moment, those voices were still left behind.

But in that moment, he made up his mind.

'T'hell with what happens tomorrow. I'm going to find Jalil. I'm going to explain myself. And then... and then, I'll hope he doesn't mind if I try to get to know him a little. Maybe more. Who knows? After all...'

Christopher's smile widened momentarily before it fell, but the amusement was plain on his face as he started off on a jog again.

'... I'll probably be dead by tomorrow anyway.'

It was with this thought, ending almost moments before, that Christopher saw his objective-- sitting against a small wooden store. It made him stop and double take, not realizing that his target was much closer than he previously thought. The blonde's jog slowed to a tentative walk, his gait nervous as he became closer.

Jalil's arms were wrapped around his knees, his head buried in them. When he came a few feet away, Christopher noticed with a wince that the dark-skinned boy was shivering uncontrollably. Although they were both lightly clothed, Christopher had the heavier of their outfits, and Jalil's arms were left near bear to the cold.

He recieved no response when he stopped in front of him, cautious. Ready to see Jalil's head snap up, and his glare intensify, and sharp words spill from the lips he'd kissed not hours ago. Ready, even, to see tears or signs of the panic that had been evident earlier. Even ready to see the expressionless mask rest into place again, a smooth, uncaring person.

Christopher did not, however, expect what he actually saw.

"Christopher..." It was an acknowledgment, not a question. Jalil's head raised almost listlessly, dark eyes meeting his square on. And there were none of the expressions that Christopher had been prepared for, none of the emotions.

Jalil looked, very simply, tired.

"Jalil..."

His face was wary, exhausted and left wide open through both his eyes and features. Dark eyes the color of midnight and black coffee and mahogany oak-- they were slightly red around the edges. He'd been crying. The knowledge brought another jolt of guilt to Christopher's system. Jalil's hands were clasped tightly around his knees, pulling them to his chest. And at the moment, in the blonde's mind, the resident scientist of sorts had never looked more young.

'I guess this is where I play it by ear, and hope I don't screw up. God help me.'

"Jalil," he started again.

"You didn't mean it. I know." His voice was soft, nearly inaudible. It was almost swallowed by the sounds of trees rustling in the distance.

Christopher shook his head desperately, "No. No, you don't know. I didn't--"

"Can we just... go somewhere warm?" The tiny plea was almost that of a child's, and the sound made some part of Christopher ache. The next words were those of an adult though, more to his true character. "I think I'd offer my other organs right now, if someone could get me a quilt."

Opening his mouth, ready to say something-- anything... Christopher only sighed. He shook his head once, and then replied, "Yeah. There's an inn not far away. I think we have enough to stay there for a night, if we do a little bargaining."

Jalil nodded once, never loosing the tired look in his eyes. He stood up shakily, trembling from the cold and holding himself. Still, though, his back was straight and his eyes forward, somehow maintaining a sense of strength and control. Which was quickly broken by Christopher's next move towards him.

The blonde was quiet, and when he stood before Jalil, he said nothing.

But when his arms wrapped around the shivering boy, Jalil said something, except it was so low and so muffled that he wasn't sure he understood it. But Christopher squeezed him tightly anyway, wrapping him in his grief. In his apology. All the self-shame and concern seeping through the embrace.

'I am so sorry. I was so stupid. I didn't think.'

And Jalil didn't push him away.

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The End of Part... Four!? Damn, I'm going slow. Oh well, part five's on it's way already, I think... stupid HTML is so annoying...

^__^ Thanks everyone for reviewing! It means so much to me to see y'all enjoy this story. If there's anything you might want to add in, or think should be in there, feel free to offer suggestions. I like making people happy, heh. Although... uh... nothing TO hard to do, y'know...

Thanks again-- everybody take care! Forgive the OOC and bad writing! Next Chapter-- wheee, more comfort, warmth, and snuggling. Er, sorta. I think either next chapter or the one after it should end the fic... *however*, I'm planning a sequel. I suck that way. ^_^;;

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