A/N: Wheeee. Here we go, mah homie g's! Some serious shit happens here - Psymon's angsty secret is revealed, Viggo confronts Mac, and... um... that's it, actually. READ THIS PART HERE - Some of this has... sensitive?... issues for some people. Just lettin' y'all know... some people are really high-strung about this shit. Not to give anything away, but you might have had it happen to you indirectly... it has to do with pregnancy.
A/N2: I decided to change the ending of this chapter – it really wasn't what I wanted to happen – there's a lot more before those two finally get together. Mmm. Drawing out stuff is fun. SO, disregard what you read last time, and re-read the last part of this – or the whole chapter. *nods*
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As the sun sank down behind Peak Three, Oni was leaning against the balcony railing of the room Psymon shared. Griff was with Mac and Viggo in town, and Nate was taking a free ride down the Metro. The cold air was calm, and there were a few clouds on the horizon, all blazing red and orange.
She wasn't surprised when two firm, tattooed arms wrapped around her waist, and smiled vaguely as Psymon rested his head on her shoulder.
"What are you up to?" he asked, watching the sky burn.
"Not much... Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Life, death, what it'd be like to be a slice of cheese..." Her boyfriend chuckled, but it seemed to die out quicker than usual. "What's wrong?" she asked, turning around in his grip so she was facing him.
"Nothin'."
"Oh, don't give me that crap. I know something's wrong... something's been wrong for a while." Psymon frowned, and pulled away, running a hand through his dreadlocks.
"Has it been that obvious?"
"You're forgetting, I know you." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Spill it, hotshot."
"It's not a big deal - I just have some crap on my mind, that's all. I'll figure it out."
"Maybe I can help?"
"It's something I have to do on my own." There was an edge to the man's voice, but Oni didn't pay it any attention.
"Psy, you have to tell me."
"I don't have to do a goddamn thing!" he snapped, and she jumped slightly, but frowned.
"You do, or else you're going to be snappy like this all the time."
"Look, Oni, I know you're trying to be Miss Psychanalysist here, but I don't need you trying to figure me out right now." There was warning in his voice, and he looked rather short-tempered. Oni, however, could outstand anything he wanted to pull.
"Psymon, you are going to fucking tell me. I need to know!"
"You don't need to fucking know! You don't need to know a fucking thing!"
"Yes I fucking do!"
"Goddamn it, bitch, shut the fuck up!" Psymon raised a hand threateningly, when Oni's slightly panicked voice stopped him from doing anything drastic.
"It's hurting you!" she shouted, then continued quietly, "And... that hurts me." His arm dropped to his side and he looked at Oni - really looked - and found her with her arms crossed, looking insecure.
"Oni..."
"Look, don't make me have to go through this again. It hurts me to see you undecided and more violent than usual, so can't you just tell me?"
"It's.... honestly, it's nothing. Just family business. I just have to straighten out some papers and stuff... it's kind of eating at me." She took a cautious step towards him.
"When you got that call from home... why did it make you so angry?"
Psymon was silent, and Oni was afraid he might go recluse for a while. But he finally motioned her into the room, and securely locked the balcony doors, then sat on his bed heavily, looking worn out all of a sudden.
"The call I got.... it wasn't directly from home. It was more of a.... mid-point between me and my family up in Canada." He cleared his throat, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling loosely, and his head down slightly. "He's a friend of mine who lives up there, who keeps me updated when I need to be, since my parents didn't do it themselves.
"He said... He said that my mom... He said that she got knocked up by some guy that dad didn't like much. And that..." He cleared his throat again, and Oni stood in front of him, feeling slightly awkward now that she had gotten her boyfriend to open up. He was still looking at the ground. "Dad did some stupid shit... and he's going to be on trial soon for it." Oni was wise enough not to ask what he had done. Psymon's voice got steadily heavier. "Mom... she... I don't know, exactly, what happened... but the baby was stillborn or she had a miscarriage or some crap... and..." His voice cracked, and he looked up at Oni. His eyes were watering slightly. "And I guess, the strain or something was too much... and she just kind of... gave up?" One tear fell, followed by another, until he couldn't stop them if he wanted to.
Oni felt very insecure at that particular moment - what did someone do when they were confronted by a crying maniac? What was she supposed to do? Her womanly instincts didn't quite cover this topic.
She slowly moved next to her boyfriend and sat down on the bed next to him, wrapping her arms in the most comforting way she could. He leaned against her, eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop crying, and she maneuvered them both until he was laying with his head in her lap.
"I'm sorry, Psy. I shouldn't have asked."
"...Nah..." he whispered hoarsely. "It... I dunno. It feels better."
"What?" He looked up at her.
"It feels better now that someone knows." She smiled weakly.
"It tends to do that."
"Just... Don't tell anyone, alright?" He looked worried, and she shook her head.
"Not a soul."
"Thanks."
"No problem, honey. Get some rest, alright?" There was some more maneuvering, and soon they were resting on top of the blankets, Oni still holding onto Psymon protectively.
One more thing we have in common, Oni thought to herself lazily as she drifted into sleep.
***
The holidays were apparently well celebrated on the mountain, if the smell of pine and gingerbread in the air was any hint. The lodge was welcoming after a long day in town, and Viggo gratefully sat down in one of the recliners by the fire, which smelled much like cinnamon.
"Gotta love scented pine cones," Elise said, sitting in the recliner next to him.
"Hey, babe. Have a good run against Nate?" She smiled mysteriously.
"He's better than I thought he would be."
"Eh, he's okay." Viggo pulled the lever and the recliner leaned back, the footrest coming out.
"Are you talking about his snowboarding skills or his kissing skills?" Viggo grinned easily, crossing his arms behind his head.
"You can choose."
"Viggo, you asshole!" came a disgruntled shout of a certain American boy, "Get back here and help us carry in all this shit!"
"Watch your mouth, punk!" Viggo shouted back, putting the footrest back, and standing up. "Be back in a little bit, doll. Keep that seat open for me?"
"Only if you promise never to call me doll."
"Give me your number and we've got a deal."
"Viggo!" Mac growled again, holding too many bags and glaring at both the Swede and the model.
"Sorry, Mac, I'll give you back your cheap labor," Elise said, before pointing at the door. "Go. Help."
"Yes ma'am." He marched out of the door, and after Mac put his bags down, he went to get more. Griff was sifting through the bags, trying to find his stuff.
"Griff, c'mon man, just grab some bags and go. We'll get it all sorted out up there," Mac said, pulling some bags out of the jeep. Viggo grinned.
"Do as daddy tells you, Griff."
"Aw, shaddup man."
"Fine, fine...." Griff started, pulling some bags out with him, before noticing Nate making his way into the lodge. "Viggo, you aren't going to make out with Nate again, are you? That was nasty."
"It wasn't so pleasant for me, lil' man. Go take those up and get your stuff out of 'em." Griff headed up the hill from the jeep to the lodge, and Mac frowned.
"Why did you do it, then?"
"Do what?"
"Make out with Nate." Viggo scratched the back of his head as the two headed up the hill, last of the bags in hand.
"I didn't make out with him... Just a kiss. And hey, I'm a flirt. You know that."
"Yeah, but..." Their boots clunked up the steps, and Mac deposited the bags inside the threshold, staying outside. Viggo realized that something was going down, and he did the same with the two bags he was holding, returning to stand in front of Mac, hands on his hips.
"But what?"
"I don't know. I just..."
"Bull shit you don't know. You just what?" Viggo smirked at the irate looking American. "Spill it, man, I'm not getting any younger."
"I just don't like you flirting with other-" Mac cut himself off, blushing, "It's just annoying, that's all." Viggo grinned, finally on to something.
"You don't seem to mind it," he said, leaning forward so he was looming over the other slightly, arms bracing himself against the wall just above Mac's head. Mac himself looked almost drugged.
"...What if I asked you to stop flirting with me now?" he whispered hoarsely, looking away. Viggo moved his left hand to grab the other's chin lightly, turning the American to face him.
"I'm not flirting with you anymore."
Mac didn't really understand what was going on - Viggo was close and disrupting his chain of thought by looking at him like he was. He had known the other male for about, what, two weeks? And he was already getting butterflies in his stomach and his mind reeled like it was drugged whenever the Swede was near. He had been distracted through their whole shopping trip because he was intent on not focusing on Viggo, for crying out loud!
"Viggo..."
"Hmm?" The Swede leaned in even closer, noses almost touching.
"I... Don't think we should do this."
"Do what?" The question was asked innocently enough, but there was something under the surface that made Mac shiver - not unpleasantly, though.
"This. You shouldn't be flirting with me like this..." His head was clearing slightly, but he was still trapped in Viggo's eyes.
"Didn't I already say that I wasn't flirting with you?"
"It's just... you can't seriously mean anything by this..." Viggo's pleasantly entrancing eyes suddenly turned sharp and narrowed, a frown replacing his calm smirk.
"Why can't I?"
"Because, dude... it's...I mean..."
Viggo crushed his lips fiercely against Mac's, silencing whatever weak protest the boy was making. Mac staggered at the sudden intensity coming from the Swede, and slammed against the wall, eyes wide.
Slowly, his eyelids slid down as he closed his eyes, and one arm reached up under Viggo's to grab the other's jacket. Viggo didn't let Mac stay like that long, because he was soon a foot away, glowering at Mac.
"Jag veta jag älskar dig, Mac! Dig verka som bli förälska i mig!" Viggo threw up his hands in frustration and continued to babble on in Swedish, ignoring Mac's confused look. "Din jävla rövhål! Jag jävla älskar dig!"
"What the hell are you saying, man? Some of that sounded familiar." Mac asked cautiously. Viggo growled.
"I said I love you and you seem to be in love with me and that you're a fucking asshole and I fucking love you!"
Mac was silent for a moment, and Viggo frowned.
"Like sounds too childish. Love is a better word. Though it's more of a huge fucking attraction." Mac looked slightly confused for a minute, then sighed.
"Look, Viggo. You're a nice guy, y'know? And... I dunno. I'm just not..."
"...Fine, whatever." Viggo started to head to the door, but Mac grabbed his arm.
"Look, man, I just-" Viggo turned smoothly.
"Naw, it's cool, I get it. It's chill, as those Californians say it. Just forget about it." Viggo shrugged out of Mac's grip, and slunk into the lodge. Mac frowned.
"Well.. shit." He ran a hand through his hair, then looked around curiously. "How come I feel like a hundred eyes are glaring at me right now?"
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A/N: This chapter has been changed, because I fucking HATED the last ending. I've got more to do before anything happens.