"How do you think it went, John?" I leaned in closer to him from my place across the table, speaking softly. It was nearing ten at night. I threw my hair into a bun; I was freshly dressed after showering away my unease. Mark was leaning against the wall, awaiting John's answer too patiently. It may very well have been that he wasn't taking notice at all. In fact, he seemed spaced out; the focus in his eyes had faded as he stared at the floor. I almost went and snapped my fingers in front of his face. How could anybody zone out at a time like this?

Amanda was sitting on her futon, knees hugged up against her chest; she was paying close attention, a direct contrast to Mark. Easy-listening music was playing on the radio beside her, she lowered the volume and Karen Carpenter's vocals faded softly while the melody eased our moods. Amanda seemed to be feeling less stressed, I even took it upon myself to smile at her. She nodded at me, I shrugged internally. It was a start at least.

John was obviously tired; it had been a long day, after all. He had cleaned himself up; I had helped him get the last remaining pieces of the fake wounds off of him. We were all still too restless to eat, coming down from the high of it all was surreal.

"It's not a matter of how I think it went; it's all on the subject of 'what was learned from this?'. Do you think anything was learned?"

I looked to Amanda, for once, a little lost for words. They were all dead, how was I supposed to know if they had learned?

Amanda seemed to be deep in thought and I realized the question was rhetorical.

-

Amanda was asleep by midnight, John had long before retired; and now I was perfectly and unbearably awake, as I had already napped earlier. It bothered me that my sleeping pattern was off track, once again. Mark and I were at opposite ends of the room, openly angry with each other. He had been avoiding me ever since I voiced my discomfort over the term 'us'. And if he could not deal with that, then we would be at other sides of the room for quite a while.

But knowing Mark, I knew that he could not handle suffering silently for much longer, eventually he would break and tell me exactly how he felt. How strange it was to be so close to each other and not recognize one another. At least when I hated him, I still acknowledged him. So, bitterly, I went to bed, finally feeling the lull of sleep hover over my eye lids. He didn't even glance up as I left the room. I did not wish him a good night.

-

And when I got up, he wasn't around. Neither was John, I found to my intense discontentment. However, there was a shopping bag of food on the table for Amanda and me. I decided not to eat; showering instead and retiring back to my room.

Less than half an hour later, I became restless. Writing a note that would tell John where I had gone, I laced my sneakers and sprinted out through the doors. The cold autumn air hit me once I was out, and I picked up my speed. Glancing briefly at the van parked outside, I ran past it, and I continued running until I was at least six blocks away. My hair was caught by the wind and whipped wildly behind me, frustratingly; I wished I had brought a hair tie. As I ran, my reflection whizzed by store window glass, my head cleared, and my stress level lowered to a semi-healthy edge. Gradually, I slowed into a quick jog, once things started becoming unfamiliar. I started back, pacing myself this time and working back into a full run at breakneck speed. Fast enough to trick myself into flying.

-

When I returned, my lungs held air painfully; my legs were sore and wilted as I shuffled delicately through the double doors.

"Hello Rivielle." John welcomed me back. I pushed some strands of hair behind my ear, smiling at him. Amanda was sitting in a chair beside him; I noticed the pad and pencil in her pallid hands. She was sketching something for him, but she raised a hand to wave at me. We had all recently discovered her talent for trap design, and as much as I detested admitting, she was good. Really good, I had acknowledged.

"How was your run?" I heard a voice I knew to be Marks from somewhere behind me, I didn't turn to address him directly. I ran my hand through my hair absentmindedly.

"Good." I murmured. My ankles suggested otherwise, and I half-limped back to my room, where I pulled off my shoes and fell back onto my bed. I proceeded to glare at my ceiling.

I thought about napping, and then I seriously considered it. John's muffled cough broke the silence; I grew tense. Getting up, I went to him.

"Do you need anything?" Amanda asked, but I was already getting his water. She went back to her drawing, a little put off.

I handed him the small paper cup, he thanked me. I noticed Mark staring and I tried my absolute best to ignore it.

However, I find it hard to ignore someone so ineluctable.

-

"I have to talk to you."

He broke first. Apparently his pride wasn't strong enough to override his attraction.

I was curled on my bed, resembling a lazy cat. I pretended to be unconcerned.

"You can talk, there's no rule that says I have to listen." I examined my nails.

"What's been going on with you? Ever since the game you've been acting…"

He looked as if he were searching for the words.

"Intolerable? Negative? Bitchy?"

"Quite so."

I shrugged, looking away.

"I prefer to be aloof."

He grinned, "I think we both know that's a lie."

"What?"

He lowered his voice, it was barely a whisper. He did this to make sure I would listen.

"You are anything but. I don't think I've ever met anyone more in tune to their feelings, more ready to express themselves."

"You don't even know me." I sat up, seething.

"I know you very well."

"Get out."

"Maybe better than John."

"I'm warning you." I eased off the bed, holding myself back.

"In fact, I think you like me better. But you can't admit it to yours-"

I jumped, grabbing at him, swiping and throwing lame punches, trying my best to hurt him with such a weak frame. I looked up at him to see a small scratch just under his chin; I had gotten something out of it. I smirked. In hardly any time, he held my wrists together tightly.

Déjà vu, I told myself.

This time, I wouldn't allow him the satisfaction of winning. Even if his stare was penetrating my very soul, and even if my body trembled with a craze that lingered between desire and abhorrence.

He wasn't going to win this.

"I'm going to scream." I told him calmly.

"I'll make you scream." His sly grin provoked me.

"John!-" I yelled as loud as I could.

"Is out with Amanda."

"Let me go."

"Only if you really want me to."

"I do." Did I?

"Why should I believe that, after everything…after last time?" He shook me.

"Because you fucked with my head Mark! I've known you a total of three weeks and you went and twisted my words in the car; we're not what you think…I'm not what you think." I exhaled.

"Tell me who you are then." He held fast to my wrists.

"I'm not in love with you! We're not a couple. We kissed twice; that's all there is. That's all I can allow there to be." As soon as the words escaped me, I knew it was a fatal blow.

He softened his grip. "…because?"

"Because, I can't love you knowing that John and I can never be together. It isn't fair."

"You're not being fair to me. What about everything you owe me?!" He questioned bitterly.

I yelped in frustration, "Haven't I already given it to you?! Isn't my alliance enough?!" I shook myself out of his loose grip.

"No! I can't stop thinking about you! You have no idea how hard it is to disconnect..."

Here was the breaking point.

"Of course I do..." Salt water spilled down my face. Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying. "The fact is I can't love you both in the same way. Impossible." Stop crying NOW.

"Then don't love us the same. Love him like a father…" He tried to hold me, I pushed back.

"I can't do that, I wanna be with him! That's like asking you to love me like your sister, you just don't see me that way, get it?!"

He deliberated for a moment. His question startled me, I hadn't considered it before.

"How do you love me?"

I told him the honest truth, "I'm not sure," My voice broke, the pressure of it all slammed down on me, crushing me, asphyxiating me.

We heard the double doors. John was back. The relief was so intense I could have fallen to the floor.

Mark left my space, turning only to tell me, "I'll help you figure it out."

I was sure he would.