I was walking down the hallway between classes when I heard the ever-chilling sound of Eddward's shoes hitting the floor. He was behind me, keeping a steady distance, and choosing to make himself known. I could tell. He must have expected I would want to talk to him, and was giving me the opportunity.
I found my words, and spoke up, "Can we talk about..." I let my voice trail off.
He quickly answered, and I had to tilt my head a little to hear him, "Once school ends, stay. I shall find you. We can speak then."
I could no longer hear his shoes, and when I turned two seconds later, he was gone. Likely down some hallway, but still, it was eerie. I sighed, shrugging off the weird feeling, as I tried to clear my mind for my next class.
The questions would just have to wait.
"Come on, Kev, pleeeaaase tell me what you're hiding?"
Persistent Nazz was at it again, "I'm not hiding anything, Nazz, just drop it already!"
She pouted, "Every week it's like you're shutting me out even more - hey, wipe that look off your face, you know it's true! I feel like I'm falling out of your life, your trust..."
"You're not, I just," I wanted to reassure her, but the truth was, things were just too weird for me to explain. I didn't know where he'd be hiding, what I could say, so I kept myself tight-lipped, "I'm going through some stuff, okay? And I just can't talk about it."
"Kevin, you gotta...shit, I'm gonna be late. Call me! Seriously!" She gave me a playful shove at my shoulder, but her expression wasn't quite as jovial. I sighed as I watched her walking off, wondering what I should even do about all this, what I could say...
"I didn't realize I was of that much import to you, Kevin," the smooth voice of Eddward rolled through the halls, and left me with a chill, "she is your friend, after-all."
"Y-yeah, well," I stuttered, "loose lips sink ships, eheheh...heh..." I bit my lip after saying such a ridiculous thing, but as I saw him come into view, I realized I was right in assuming he didn't want me to talk. His expression seemed to show approval.
He walked past me, beckoning lightly with his hand, "Come. Let us walk, if you desire to speak about things..."
I followed him hesitantly, shutting my locker and swinging my bag around my back. I tried to keep pace with him, but he was always one step ahead. We left the school, and I noticed the stragglers around the area. I decided to comment on it, just to lighten the chilling mood he left.
"So how come we can talk in the open like this? I mean, we're practically walking together right now," or I was trying to. I really was. Damn his long legs.
"Do not worry yourself on such things. It is not your reputation at stake, and I am well aware of what I am doing. Hurry along, lest I leave you for the dust."
I growled in my throat, but still walked at that awkward angle from him, watching his perfect stride. Not a single crack in the sidewalk fazed him. I started to think about what we were walking for. I didn't think I'd be able to outright ask him now, but I still could talk to him. Maybe I could pry something out of that lockbox that was his mind.
"So...I always kinda thought you and Marie..."
"As did she. Sad that it happened so. For her, at least," his tone sounded somewhat remorseful, but still held a steel tone to it. I was actually a bit surprised he responded with something so revealing, and decided to try my luck.
"What happened?"
"She was not my type," he snipped, and the silenced reigned again.
"...so...what IS your type?" As if he'd answer.
And I was right. The trees were louder than he was, and because of the angle, I couldn't even see his face to see if he'd reaction. I groaned internally. Why did I expect anything more?
"So..." I said nonchalantly, without thinking of what else I'd say. I almost stopped walking as I caught myself, but I managed to latch onto a train of thought I'd had earlier in the day, "now that you got what you wanted...uhh...is it all over with?"
I heard him scoff slightly, "And how would you have any idea what I might have desired?"
I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn't see me, "Well, it's not like you, do."
His silence begged me to continue.
"I mean, from what I've read, you don't seem to have any plans for yourself except to, you know...fade away..."
I found myself halted as he turned to face me, a hand drawn to my chin as he lifted my eyes level with his. They were filled with...something, and it was the most emotion I'd seen from him.
"Mon cher..." his voice was soft and sonorous as we continued the look, frozen in time.
A moment later, my chin was dropped, and he resumed walking. I followed, and we resumed our angled walking game.
Confused, I inquired, "What does that even mean?"
Huffed breath, and no response.
"Like...what do you mean, when you talk like...like you do in your essays?"
The slightest hesitance in his steps, and I watched a stray grass blade tap against his shoe. The little things tell us so much.
"Imagine you are the prey. You are, yes, but perchance imagine yourself a young buck, tempting meat for the wolves. Among the herd, you can blend in, fade to obscurity, and perhaps live a long life. But act, make yourself known, and the predators will see you. You will be singled out. You could lead the herd, but would it be worth it?" I saw his head tilt back in my direction slightly, as if to listen for a response. I had nothing to say, and so he continued, "Be seen as nothing, or as the prize to be ravaged? When the wolves watch, it is best to stay low. When you live with one, though, it's...not quite as simple."
I didn't answer. I was turning over what he said in my head, trying to figure out what he meant, it was on the tip of my tongue...
"Le loup et le garçon dans le petit chapeau rouge..." his stride was slowing, but I didn't catch up to him yet, "How quaint. How absolutely ridiculous and worthless, all of this..." His voice was dark, and carried an undertone of pain.
I watched his shoulders, and how they curved ever-so-slightly forward. His stride was sloppier, his jacket slipping down his shoulders in the heat. His shoes didn't click, nor did they stay silent. I knew he'd never let anyone else see him like this, no one but Marie. I felt...I felt kind-of honoured. Despite how he was talking, and the fact he just said God-knows-what in French. He was still walking with me, or as close to it as his pride would allow.
His hand clenched into a gentle fist, then let go, but I saw it. I watched the muscles tense, though most were hidden under the wristband. I couldn't see his face, but I knew something was troubling him. And despite the fact I knew he had the strength to pulverize me if he so wished, and despite all the things he'd done to make me fear him like the predator he was...I couldn't stand to see him like this.
I remembered all the things he'd written. The things he'd let slip. The fresh, fading slice on his wrist that evening I read to him, and the rest of the scars that told frightening stories all on their own. I thought of the way he smiled, on the phone with...with someone. How soft his lips were in that stolen kiss that I didn't deny...that I could have...but I...
Again, his hand squeezed, and I was brought from my thoughts. I didn't know what to say, but I knew he needed something, or someone. I thought to reach out to comfort him, but each place I thought to touch could be misinterpreted. His shoulder, to turn him to speak; his wrist, to check. His arm, to get his attention...his hand...
Gingerly, I reached at the angle, my head turned and face hidden under the bill of my cap. When I felt his fingers, cold and smooth, I forced myself to grab them. I squeezed, just enough for him to notice.
He stopped abruptly, missing a single step before he walked again. We were no longer at an angle. My eyes shifted, and saw red painted on his cheeks.
The slightest reticence tinged his voice, "What are you doing?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and seemed tremulous.
I found my voice somewhere inside myself and replied, "What do you think I'm doing?" Hell, that was a question for the ages. Even I didn't know for sure!
That seemed to silence him...but I didn't feel him pull away. I was expecting it, honestly. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd twisted my wrist again, or my arm, but I didn't feel him trying to. Our wrists slid against one another as our strides evened out, and it felt like he'd slowed down. Like he'd been running away before, but now he had nothing to run from.
The cul-de-sac was coming into view. Even if he wasn't fazed by it, I was worried what people would think. I mean, I knew why I was holding his hand, but...people assume, and I was afraid. I let my hand loosen, and...
It didn't fall from his as I'd expected. Instead, he was holding my hand, and I turned to look his way. The blush had faded, but I still saw it. I felt my own cheeks heat up from an inner sun as well, and found myself squeezing back. I didn't understand why, but...I didn't mind this. I was afraid, but when am I not?
I felt his hand drop mine a minute later, hesistantly. His fingers were slow to loosen, but he did so, and I saw him breathe out a heavy sigh.
We were almost home, and I decided it was now or never.
"So...what did the kiss mean?"
He looked at me, with those stormy eyes looking at me, not through me, as his voice came out subtly, "What did this mean, mon ami?"
We stood there, staring into each others eyes for a moment, and I looked down, blushing. I wasn't sure what to say, but apparently he wasn't either, because he turned, hands slipping into his jacket pockets.
I was left on the sidewalk to contemplate what he'd asked, but watched him go. His stride was a little more confident, but it stilled wavered, and I was proud I could notice that. He reached the door to his house, and turned back to look at me. I averted my gaze, but the moment I looked back, he was gone.
I sighed.
As if school didn't give me enough to think about...Eddward was going to make my head explode.