A/N: Huuuge thank yous to all reviewers and my wonderful beta-reader, Sarya! I will continue this story, as I noticed how much I can get out of this. I dunno how long this'll be, and knowing my way to write angst/romance the plot is likely to stretch quite generously…
On with the story! Reviews are extremely appreciated, you give me motivation! Eskobar's 'Save The Day' was my inspiration to this chapter.
He is gorgeous.
Eyes shining like green fire, I can see the mysteriousness and openness of his core both at the same time. Behind those eyes lingers something unknown, something I haven't ever come across before. I can do nothing but stare at him, even though my neck protests such a position painfully. He's captured my arms behind my back, pushing my chest and thighs, which he straddles, against the ground.
"Stay still!"
Oh dear God. I can feel his breath on the nape of my neck. Feeling the amazing sensation of my hips being pressed against his warm body I wriggle beneath him to gain a more convenient position.
"I said stay still, everything's ok."
And it certainly is. Gasping for breath I nod obediently, lowering my gaze and laying my cheek against the ground as sheer exhaustion suddenly takes over me. It feels like I've just woken up and the urge to stretch my stiff muscles is overwhelming.
He won't rise, he won't risk the chance of me springing up and running over the roof. Like hell I would do such a foolish thing now that I have a stunning male on top of me! The green-eyed man with ink black hair apparently sees my discomfort and eases the pressure in order to let me breathe more freely.
"You okay?"
Puffing like mad I nod a bit reluctantly, the dust that I'm breathing from the ground is not good for my asthma. Coughing, I recall the time when one of my dad's acquaintances brought his daughter to our place, and the damned bitch almost drowned me in our pond in the garden!
Oh, his palm is warm against my shoulder blade.
"Freeze!"
Ah, the bloody cavalry has arrived. The weight is being lifted and I'm grabbed by my armpits, and heaved into a standing position.
I hear the soft click of handcuffs, and the cold metal against my wrists makes a shiver run up my spine. Glaring at the offending hands I stagger along as I'm being dragged into an elevator with a herd of policemen. I feel like I'm a criminal, when are they going to notify my rights?
Glancing over my shoulder I see my 'saviour' standing in the same spot, his black locks ruffled by the wind. Under the sunshine I can see that his hair isn't actually black, but very, very dark brown. As the sunlight hits his eyes they glow in an unearthy sort of way, preventing me from thinking about anything else apart from him. As the door of the elevator closes, the spell is broken and reality strikes again.
Blinking my eyes, I once again sink deep into my thoughts, even though they don't run very fast at the moment for some reason. My head is full of some thick, jelly-like substance with small bubbles that twist the course of any sensible conceptions.
I almost committed suicide.
I managed to shock the authorities, firemen, ambulance folk and common passers-by.
I was saved by an unfamiliar man, and the thoughts of escaping were swiftly zero to nil.
Swallowing hard, and eyes widening I understand the situation.
I am royally screwed.
"Hey, watch it, you half-wit!" I snarl as one policeman pulls me out of the elevator rather violently. He doesn't take any notice of my comment and I keep chewing my lower lip irritably.
Oh great, they have formed a cleared path for me in front of the building. It feels like I'm a film star going to see the premiere of my own film in some flamboyant theater, with limousines and furry little handbags and evening gowns and everything. I beam charmingly as the press tries to blind me with their flashing cameras, hearing how people mutter to one another in wary voices.
I'm being pushed into a car, feeling a hand pressing my head down to prevent me from knocking it against the doorway of the police car.
Resting my chin against my breastbone, I slump down onto the backseat of the car next to a policewoman. I don't feel like asking anything nor wanting to explain myself, so I keep quiet as the door closes and people's eyes linger on me, even when I'm already inside the car.
I see him stepping out of the building, walking next to a cop. He does not listen to the other man's questions, just stares at me as I'm being taken away. As the car rounds the corner I lose eye-contact and turn to look at the driver through the front mirror.
Police station.
Investigation and psychologists' questions.
Bursting into tears and a crushing story about my childhood and difficulties of being gay. More fake crying. Psychologists' understanding and soothing words. Sniff. Promises to go to a therapist and off we go.
I throw the therapist's visiting card into a litterbin outside the police station. Deciding to head for home, I stroll along the street that, through a few shortcuts, leads to the nearest underground station. Offhandedly, I check my smeared make-up in a pocket mirror as I stand by a busy junction, waiting for the traffic lights to change.
People next to me start crossing the road and following their example I glance at the lights. I can see that they have turned green -
I stop in mid-stride.
Green.
It's always green.
The traffic lights are green, I'm free to cross the road.
Green is a good colour, a beautiful colour.
At the police station they must know who my Green Miracle is.
Hurriedly I step back, for the lights have turned red once again. People mill around me, gripping their umbrellas, soaking their shoes and probably their socks, too, as they run around, splashing water onto my motionless feet.
I see the entrance of the underground, there are small waterfalls falling to each step and the trickles – correction - brooks form small ponds in the places where the water has nowhere to escape.
And I hadn't even noticed it has begun to rain.
It seems like it's evening already, at least nine. Inside the busses lights are bright yellow and ordinary little shops are still open. Cafés smelling of hot mocha coffees and fresh Danish pastries are full of people escaping from the rain. I can see how one young couple are holding hands across the table behind the big window, both holding steaming cups of coffee in their free hands, their hair in wet knots and still smiling happily to one another.
I feel a bang inside of me, my throat clenching.
Restaurants' doors are wide open, waiting for customers. I can hear all kinds of music coming from the bars, and the people that stumble into me apologize hastily and continue on their way to wherever they're going.
And I, the soaked blond man, just stands there in my Ziggy Stardust shirt, feeling how the thin fabric stretches from the weight of the rainwater. Shit, it's glued to my skin, and I don't think my pants are in any better condition, either. My hair is plastered to my forehead and the water runs along my reddened nose, my jaw line, down my neck and soaking the currently see-though sleeveless even more.
And what do I do?
I turn around and head for the police station once again, seeing how an ambulance rushes its way past me to go somewhere and help somebody.
.
..
... TBC ...
A/N: Answers to reviews...
dangerous-beans: thanks, i have tendency to write quite much suspense. If you like it, you might want to read my fic called 'Draco Darling's MerryGoRound'.
Catmint: hehe, there is no need to plead for more. I certainly am willing to continue this story, since every chapter gives me even more inspiration.
Liber Creperum-Liber Diabolus: -bows- I certainly will write at least three chapters.
illusionbutterfly: thank you so much, but as I've said, I am not going to end this story any time too soon : )
Foxx666: No, Draco did not die, and Harry (yes, I believe you all guessed the green-eyed man is Harry) did not come too late.
GaBoO: thankee, can't say anything else to that, really.
Miyahara Yuuki: thanks for reviewing, I also had the feeling that maybe I shouldn't end all my stories in places like this, full of cliffhangers.
rupertsgurl: I am. I will : )
Spideria: -hysteric cackle- you know your review has been one of the funniest ones I can remember… Yes yes, the story continues.
Janche: -snort- thanks for reviewing, Duck.
evil queen: thanks!
sylver: Thanks for reviewing, it's always nice to hear that people like my writings.
Reviews are extremely appreciated, you give me motivation!
-
-Devilita.