I responded in a strange way, both grudgingly and passionately. As I groaned against his lips, I could feel a stifled protest rising in my throat, and apparently, so could he; because he promptly pulled me even nearer. Seeing no other way out, I let him hold my arms down and eagerly kissed back; then proceeded to deliberately bite him, hard. When he released my arms in shock, I shoved him back as hard as I could try; gasping for air.

He massaged his mouth, his expression deeply annoyed.

"Why did you do that?!"

My chest was heaving, and my fists balled; "I was just about to ask you the same thing!"

He showed me the little drop of blood on his hand; he had wiped it from his bottom lip.

"Unnecessary." He complained.

I scoffed, "Then maybe next time you'll leave my arms free, so I can decide what I want."

"You don't know what you want."

I folded my arms, "Excuse me?"

Just before I started working up my argument, Mark grabbed my wrist and led me into the video store on the corner. He pulled me down the last aisle, towards the back of the store. Ironically enough, this was the Horror/Science Fiction section. Backing me into a corner; he made sure I was going to listen. He pointed at me.

"You act as if you want to spend your time fawning over John, while he never returns your affections."

"I can show him how to love." I stubbornly retorted, easing myself out of the corner.

Mark looked exasperated. "He can't love you! Think of it like this: He's a professor, you're a student. It's prohibited for the two of you to have a romantic relationship. However, I am simply your peer; a student, like you."

He leaned in closer, as if to try once more. I skittered backwards, now facing the Comedy aisle.

"No. You're a teacher's assistant." I scanned the room for any possible eavesdroppers.

Mark laughed quietly, not taking his eyes off me.

"Come with me." He offered. "You don't have to take that anymore, you won't have to suppress your feelings. Anything you feel, you can just release it. Stay with me, I have room for you; I'll just...I don't know...I'll tell John you ran off."

"You're supposed to be helping him, not trying to lure his students away, with promises of love. " I spat. "I barely know you."

"As if you know John any better."

"Of course I do. I love everything about him."

"No you don't! You love the thought of him being your savior." He was adamant.

"I'm going back to him. I owe him that much…I owe him everything."

"You listen to me." He grabbed my upper arm. "I helped get you into your first trap. ME. I'm the one who let you go before being truly tested. And I was reprimanded for it, but I couldn't bear to see you like that, not while you were still so fragile. And I'm the one who found your father. Me. 'Mr. Big Important Detective'. So whatever you think you owe John…you owe me at least 1/3 of 'everything'."

I deliberated, very nearly choosing neither. I still had the option of living on my own again, facing the separation anxiety, the panic attacks, and of course my still pumping heart being ripped out slowly.

John, my very stability. He thought of me when nobody else did, or cared to. He held the first thoughts of my salvation before even I. Worked out the process of helping me, sheltering me and rehabilitating me. He had faith in me, when I didn't have faith in myself. Saw the real me, when I couldn't. What I felt: Overwhelming loyalty, and yet, bitterness for the utter refusal of my love. Mark, besotted, barely knowing me the better half of a year, never meeting me in person beforehand. Now ready to whisk me away from the perils of what may lie ahead, and to shield me from unrequited love. What I felt: uncertainty, and yet, incredibly tempting security.

I could never choose.

And Mark was still waiting for my answer.

-

We walked in silence, both wanting to speak but not really finding the words; we walked to the place that I had decided to go. It was night now, but Mark knew the way. He walked ahead of me; I was perfecting my words in my head, for when they actually did come out. By the time I was sure of what I would say, we had already gotten there.

Mark opened the door for me, I walked in cautiously.

Mark asked me to sit and wait, I did.

I waited patiently for a little over ten minutes, Mark returned with exactly who I wanted to speak with. I stood up quickly.

"John."

He nodded at me, as if he were already aware of what I was going to tell him.

"I'm not even asking you to like the fact that I even have the tiniest bit of affection for you. I've passed that already…" I shifted my weight nervously. Mark was staring at me with unmoved eyes.

"…what I want is simple, I just want you to say, just once, for me…I want you to say that I am worthy…because I feel-"

"No Rivielle. You don't feel, remember?"

"…then I know, I know that I have come so far –thanks to you- and I deserve it. Or else…I'll be forced to g-go. I'm begging you to acknowledge me. Tell me that I deserve you, even if you can't love me."

John considered briefly, "You deserve everything I can give, and I am capable of love, however, such is out of the question, in our case."

My eyes stung, "But why?"

"I'm sure Mark has already explained it to you, I see you as my student, and to cloud the mind of my pupil with a fruitless fantasy would be an injustice… a disservice to you. And everything you can be."

-

"You're the poster child for Stockholm Syndrome." Said Mark, sitting idly next to me in the chair beside my bed, where I sat Indian style. Just because I hadn't returned his affection the way he would like, didn't mean I couldn't be his friend, considering I knew how he worried.

John had since stepped out with Amanda; I had given her a cold stare as they walked out. She was muttering something to him about a bathroom.

"I don't feel brainwashed." I said, sarcastically. I almost laughed.

"That's the point…" He mumbled.

I was silent; I placed my elbow on my thigh and held my face up with my hand.

"It's cold in here." He said, reaching over me and turning on the heater on my right side.

"Thanks…"

He nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends." I eyed him carefully.

"What does he have that I don't?"

"Who? John?"

He nodded sternly.

"Its not exactly easy to explain."

"Not good enough." He retorted, irritation laced his tone.

"Maybe it's just my baby chick complex…" I murmured.

"What?"

"It's just something I've been thinking about… You know how when a baby chick first hatches into life, it becomes immediately attached to the first thing it sees? Thinking they're its mother…"

He mused over that for a while, "If what you're saying is true, then...if you had merely met me first, you would've developed all that for me?"

I shrugged. "It's just a theory."

I could tell he was bitter about the whole thing, and yet barely willing to let it show. It's like when you lose a game of tennis, or any sport for that matter; showing good sportsmanship towards your opponent can earn you points. And in no way would he take it out on John. So he would stay quiet and I would offer some extra points.

I then leaned over and kissed his cheek. He was completely still for a moment, and when I pulled away, he held my hand; not giving me the same effect that John could, but comforting, all the same.

-