27
Change is in the air
In the fog of waking after deep and comfortable sleep, I lay quietly in my bed and let memory wash over me, memory of an amazing chance meeting and the boy who had haunted my visions. I could still feel his touch upon my skin.
Then I woke up for real. My eyes flew open and I stared at the ceiling in utter mortification. What was I THINKING last night? I'd given myself over to another student without a fight – that's the kind of thing that gets a reputation, and that was not the kind of reputation I wanted! It would make me a target, an easy mark. He'd tell all his buddies, and soon they'd be after me like rogue dogs on a bitch in heat.
Moving as though I'd lost all will to function, I made my way to the showers. Once there I had to deal with the fact that I had done what I'd done, and there was no changing it. I scrubbed at my skin, angry with myself for having done something so stupid. I should have known better, damn it!
As I washed, though, a little part of my mind told me I was touching where he had touched, where I had wanted him to touch. I closed my eyes and saw that bright smile, heard his gentle laugh. My body remembered him with much less cynicism than my brain; blushing furiously, I turned the water to 'cold' and hoped it would discourage my sudden hard-on.
He'd said my eyes were beautiful.
"You okay, Crawford?" Donley stepped into the spray next to me, his face upturned to the water. "You've been in here a while."
I replied on auto-pilot. "Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking."
Donley glanced down at me and smirked. "I can see that!"
I blushed furiously and turned a little away from him. My body seemed determined to embarrass me today. I felt vulnerable and more than a little scared; if I couldn't get things under control, I'd be in for a rough morning.
Donley's warm hand landed on my shoulder, solid and reassuring. "I'll keep watch, if you need a minute."
I swallowed hard. The last thing I wanted to do was jack off in front of Donley while thinking about that red-shirted boy –
"Whoa, who, there?" Donley moved to look at my face. "Your shields just sort of melted, Crawford – what happened last night?"
"Nothing," I gasped, wanting to escape but unable to find a gracious way out of the situation. "I'm fine, Don, really."
Donley studied my face, met my gaze, and I felt him slide into my thoughts as easy as a warm knife going through butter. His mouth fell open at what he found there. "I can't let you go out there like this, Crawford, and I don't mean the come-hither gesture. Take a minute and deal with that, I'll help with the rest, all right? Unless you'd like a hand…?"
"No thanks, just keep watch, okay?" I couldn't make myself forget about that boy, about the way he'd touched me, woken up something that had slumbered for so very long, so close to being forgotten forever. In spite of the cool water spray, I could smell his scent around me, warm and smoky and real; I could feel his touch, strong and sure and giving more than he took. He'd given himself to me, more completely than I had surrendered to him – somehow, I knew this, and it thrilled me beyond imagining. I bit my lip to keep from making noise as I came hard, my flesh remembering every tremor from last night.
The only things missing were the visions, and him.
Discreet as only a close friend can be, Donley handed me the soap. He waited until I'd regained my composure and cleaned up before saying, "We definitely need to talk."
Back in our room, as we finished dressing for the day, Donley ran me through some shielding practice. He frowned a little and told me, "It's weird, Crawford. Back in the showers you were wide open – projecting, even. Now you're fine. What's going on with you?"
A blush threatened to call me a liar as I said, "Nothing. Just a little weird today, that's all."
"Who's the redshirt?"
My voice stuck in my throat, leaving my mouth hanging open in silence.
Donley heaved a sigh and gripped my by the shoulders. He shook me gently to emphasize the telepathic chiding. :You shouldn't mess around with those guys, you don't know what you're getting into. You know better than to endanger yourself like that! I have half a mind to tell your mentor.:
"No! No, Don, it wasn't anything important," I blurted, unaccountably afraid for the mysterious dark-eyed boy.
My friend stared into my eyes, challenging my shields, pulling at my memories. I scowled and locked everything behind a wall of remembered sound: radio KBMC had returned to broadcast, loud and clear.
Donley smirked. "That's more like it. Keep a lid on this, okay? I got enough of a look that I'd recognize him again, I'm going to check him out for you." He raised a hand to silence my complaint and explained, "Whenever a redshirt takes an interest in one of us, it's usually a very dangerous thing. I don't have to remind you, do I?"
Trevor's ghost hovered at my memory. I closed my eyes and nodded. I didn't want to believe that the boy I'd met could possibly hurt me, but I couldn't deny the facts. Redshirts were predators. I was prey.
Hell, Konnor himself was a redshirt.
"Just don't tell anyone, promise me?" I whispered.
"I promise. I'll just ask around, see if anyone knows who this guy is, what he's into. I have to tell you, he looks awfully familiar." Donley grinned then, leaned in close and whispered, "Hard to tell from that angle."
I punched him on the arm. "Cut it out!"
Don laughed and picked up his books. "Come on, we'll be late for breakfast."
As we walked, I kept glancing around, half expecting to see the dark-eyed boy among the crowd. I scanned the faces in the cafeteria, hopeful and frightened at the same time. But he wasn't there.
I couldn't have imagined him, could I? No, he'd been real – my body was certain of that!
But…there were very few people who only had one psi talent. What if he'd been some kind of telepath or illusionist too? Or an empath? Dread rolled over me like a low-flying storm, leaving me disoriented and more than a little scared. I'd been wide open to the Sight, and this was right after a session with Frau Sheffield. Had my shields just let this guy in?
He didn't take my hall pass. Most predators take a token of their conquest, like cigarettes or a pass. He'd made a point of tucking mine back into my jacket…
Donley's thoughts came through like a station break. :Okay, now that I see his face better I know where to start.:
:Crap!: I struggled to maintain a cacophony of rock music in my head. If Donley could get in that easy, I was in serious trouble. The last thing I wanted was for any of the teachers to find out. That seemed nasty, as if they were there watching me, and last night…was something different from all that.
:Crawford.: Donley pinched me up under my jacket. :Your thoughts are spinning, and your shields are forgetting their job. If you liked it that much, fine, lock it away somewhere safe in your head and get on with it. Keep obsessing like that, and you'll find yourself in Sonndheim's office before the day's out. Someone's bound to notice, and we both know it won't be pretty.:
His warning chilled me to the core. Privacy was not something the instructors encouraged. In fact, it seemed that they allowed it only as much as absolutely necessary. If Konnor found out – and he would find out, especially if I got distracted in class and ended up with another one-way ticket to Herr Sonndheim.
And I didn't want to consider what they might do to the red-shirted boy. Frau Sheffield had pointed out what I'd suspected all along, that Konnor had gambled his career on me. His own preferences aside, I was sure he wouldn't be happy about sharing.
I concentrated on my shields, forcing myself to drink all of my weak coffee until my hand stopped shaking. Something was out of place – the greatest variable, was it still me? Or had it changed?
:Watch your back today, Crawford. Meet me for lunch?: Donley clapped a hand on my back as we parted at the door. :I'll see what I can find out. You work on staying inside your thick skull – and keeping everyone else on the other side.:
"See you, Don," I replied out loud, doubting my ability to send anything coherent through any other channel. I tried to remember some of my favorite classic rock, to weave my shields together with a little bit of metal. The pun caught me off guard and I smirked, letting my thoughts veer into a momentary silliness: if the three little pigs built houses from straw, wood, and brick, what was I building from rock and metal?
A fortress stronger than the concrete of Rosenkreuz.
I locked that thought away the moment I saw it, but I couldn't deny the truth of it. That was exactly what I was trying to build, and it was the only thing that could out-last the tower.
My mind felt still and calm as I entered my first class of the day, and I took coherent notes for a coming exam in world events. My second class erupted into a debate between two older students over the best way to train a clairsentient to turn their gift on at will, as the teacher took his own notes. My longest morning class, the one with Frau Sheffield, focused on book studies as our teacher had lost her voice overnight.
As the lunch bell rang, I followed the herd through the door, intent on my meeting with Donley.
My feet seemed to stick to the ground as I comprehended the answer to a puzzle I hadn't even known I was trying to solve. The thing that seemed off, the part out of place, wasn't something missing so much as something slipping neatly into its home after a long and heartfelt absence.
I knew where I stood in relation to time.
A/N:
Change is in the air
"The Different" – Melissa Etheridge Skin
The boy in the red shirt has really made an impact upon young Bradley Crawford. Question is, just how deep does the crater run, and what lies hidden in the depths? The dark and the wild and the different, indeed.