Atonement

By Seniya

Prescription

Immobilized by the thought of you
Paralyzed by the sight of you
Hypnotized by the words you say
Not true but I believe anyway

Shiver By Maroon 5

Pathetic fallacy.

That was what this was called, wasn't it? The raging tempest that screamed bloody chaos overhead, the thousands of helpless tears that were currently meandering to their less than glamorous demise upon the plane of murky grass in front of his eyes. It all mirrored the frenzy of excited emotions clawing at his insides.

Caleb had never felt so God awful in his life.

He had asked Hay Lin about it, more for proximity reasons than for the curious glances that she kept offering him every time she saw his disgruntled form emerge from the basement. "I think that I have one of your earth diseases. What is it called? The foo?"

"The flu." She corrected automatically, wasting no time to spring across the breakfast table to be closer to him. "Do you have a fever?" She peered through his ears.

"No."

"A headache?"

"No."

"Then what?" Crossing her arms across her dark red Hello Kitty T-shirt, Hay Lin looked absolutely baffled, she had reached the pinnacle of her medical expertise with this boy and they were still both confused.

"I…" How could he describe it? "It's a stomach problem."

Her mouth formed a large O shape before she bent low and whispered, "do you have the runs?"

"No. I…It feels as though there's something crawling around in there. It makes me feel…" He paused for a moment before reconsidering Hay Lin as a threat and then breathed, "feel nervous."

Now this was confusing. Hay Lin remained thoughtful for a good three minutes before deciding that she couldn't think about it any more. "Maybe it's the weather." She offered.

"The rain?"

"Yes. Sometimes when it snows I get headaches. And when there's a storm coming, my grandmother gets backaches."

The weather.

……………………………………………

The weather didn't ease up over the next few days—if anything, it got worse, as did Caleb's mood. It reached to a crescendo on the Saturday following, with the arrival of the other girls, in the midst of this weather, in apparent preparation for a sleepover. A ritual that Caleb understood consisted little of act of sleeping, and more of chattering and giggling.

It had been Irma who had arrived first, sleeping bag in tow, a thick sheen of rain coating the few bits of skin that peered out from beneath her thick jacket, she had slammed the kitchen door shut in her wake, only to have it pushed forward mere seconds after, sending the brunette spiraling forward across the kitchen floor, flat on her face.

"Irma? Did I hit you?" In a mop of bags and sopping wet bangs, Will slid in gracelessly behind her.

"No shit Sherlock."

"Well you shoved the door in my face genius! You had it coming."

Irma staggered to her feet, slipping twice in the process before meeting Caleb's disgruntled gaze from across the room where he stood silently watching as this scene played out before him. Momentarily forgetting her anger, she rounded on him instead. "Caleb! Good to see that you're still alive and well after the fire and brimstone that Corndog has been calling on you for the last week. Remember Will—when she called him a—"

Will, upon sensing the inappropriate nature of the conversation, decided to steer it back into safer waters, "Um, yeah—hey think fast!" And with that she tossed Irma's duffle at her head. It collided with a sickening thud sending Irma, once again back onto the floor.

"What is your problem Vandom?" Refusing to stagger to her feet for conviction that she would only be sent right back down again, Irma ranted in the horizontal. "See this Caleb, the girl's half crazy! She's been trying to do me in since lunch."

"No one made you eat the tuna Irma. And besides, it was your bag."

"I am done with you. I'm going upstairs. Dibs on the bed!" With remarkable sped and agility she made a dash for the upstairs, leaving Will and Caleb, quite alone in the kitchen.

"You should go too. If you want a bed." It was a less than subtle hint that she should leave. Staring at her muddy rain boots, she mentally rejected the notion. "I…um…heard about what happened with you and Cornd—Cornelia…I'm sorry."

"Well, you'd be the only one." For the first time she noticed the pastiness of his complexion and the dullness in his eyes, "What is Cornelia calling me these days?"

Words that shouldn't be uttered more than thirty miles away from a church. "Nothing…Irma was making that up. So, um, are you going to be hanging around all night?"

Mistaking the nausea that had been plaguing him for the last fortnight for a genuine sickness she edged closer hesitantly, wondering if he'd tell her if she found the nerve to ask. "Not if I can help it. Watching you girls and your little habits…" He fell short then, the slight whiff of her shampoo had slowly infiltrated his senses. He couldn't place the smell…something flowery…something light.

"I know…" Seeing how his expression had clouded, how he had all but flinched in actual pain when she had walked closer, Will whispered her advice, "that you don't like me telling you what to do, but I think that you should sit down. You look sick."

Always the diplomatic one, he thought, although he did find himself on a stool at her prodding. He wasn't too fond of her touching him, which she seemed intent on doing, trying to discern whether or not he had a fever, much like what Hay Lin had done a few days before. It wasn't the same however, and he tried to smack her insolent palms away when she touched his neck—the feelings in the pit of his stomach had increased tenfold with her closeness, and it suddenly dawned on him what exactly the cause of his nervousness was.

It was in her smell, in her skin, in those delicate features and sweet dusting of golden brown freckles across her nose—

These sensations had started when he'd spent an entire evening nearly alone in her presence—and severely worsened when he'd glimpsed her over the past few days. Now with her touching him and looking at him, breathing on him—

He got to his feet.

It was all very clear: he was allergic to Will. Something about her was making him unwell. And God help him now because his tongue was too heavy now to explain it to her. "I know what's wrong now Will…I'll talk to Yan Lin."

He left before she had a chance to respond, darting off towards the back of the house, where he hoped that he could be alone. There would be no such luck however, for Yan Lin, searching for the source of a very unpleasant aroma had also come there, seizing his chance and Caleb decied to make good on his plan to rid himself of these feelings.

"Yan Lin." The older lady, who had been crouched low on the floor, sniffing a damp looking area on the wall, jumped with a screech. "Caleb? What is it?"

"I figured out what was wrong with me."

"Oh right? Hay Lin told me it was the rain."

Refusing to be dismissed, Caleb blustered on, "It's an allergy—I'm allergic to…" Well, now it sounded foolish…but perhaps it was a common earth ailment. "I am allergic to Will."

"You're what?"

"You…heard me." For he was reluctant to repeat such a silly admittance.

"You mean that you are allergic to her shampoo or her fabric softener or…has it given you hives?" Reluctant to have yet another female search his body, he pressed, "No, it's just…a nasty feeling…in my stomach…it feels like I'm losing my mind."

"Oh…" Comprehension clouded her aged features, although when she spoke, she remained painfully vague. "Does Will know that you're allergic to her?"

"No." Well, of course not, Will was such a sweet girl—he couldn't tell her something like that, it would hurt her…and besides, it was becoming obvious that this allergy caused his tongue to swell.

"Is she still seeing Matthew?"

"The guitar boy? I think so…"

"Well now Caleb, I think that this is a very confusing situation…"

"What does he have to do with anything? The only reason I came here is because I need some sort of formula from you…a potion…err…something."

But she only shook her head slowly for a response. "There is nothing that I can give you Caleb. Perhaps in time this infatuation will fade."

"Infatuation? I am not infatuated!"

"Oh right…you're allergic."

He knew that beneath the veneer of motherly sympathy she was probably doubled over, laughing at him—and so he left, intending initially to march back into the kitchen to tell Will to change her annoying smell. But upon catching a glimpse of her sodden red hair—he changed his mind and temporarily retreated to the basement.

Infatuated. Really.

Author: Bored, bored, bored. And broke, I have to get a j-job. Blah. I have been searching for the past few days, writing up resumes and lying through my teeth about how great I am…I've got expenses after all, I slept on my I-pod and broke it, I accidentally knocked my scanner off of it's stand and broke it and the seventh Harry Potter book is coming out.