Ignite Me

Chapter 6: "Forever"

"Come on." She doesn't give me time to reply; she's already brisk-walking further and further away. For someone who's ill, as Aaron had told me once, she seems extremely healthy, to be able to walk this steadily. And fast. With her beautiful, fragile-looking face, long blond hair and strong posture she looks more like his older sister. You wouldn't even think that she's Aaron's mother.

Except, maybe, the fact that she looks too thin, her cheekbones too sharp and the shape of her spine slightly poking out of her shirt. In that ungodly moment my curiosity went up I felt the sudden urge to ask her so many things; about Aaron, about her husband, why she looks like she hasn't eaten in days, if the story Aaron wrote was really true—

She stops abruptly. My body almost crashes to hers and I mutter an apology. She looks over her shoulder. "Walk with me." She says calmly. I look at her as if she has spoken another language. It doesn't take me that long to understand that she's telling me to walk beside her. I move beside her and we resume walking.

"What question do you have in mind? I can tell that you want to ask me something, and it seems like you have many. " Her voice is so so soft that it reminds me of Aaron. The way he comforts me at night, his arms already holding me, when I wake up at night from the nightmares, breathing heavily and one strand close to going insane. One inch closer from screaming my heart out.

"What the Supreme did to you—with your illness... Was that true?"

She nods. Inhales, exhales. Inhales, exhales. "Yes, it was. Whenever we went to the doctor's. It happened once a month. I never found out what it was for or why they kept injecting it to me until Aaron told me. He heard their conversation about me, about the medicine." She laughed, but it held no humor in it. "I didn't believe him—I told him that he was too concerned for me that he's gone paranoid—until one day I no longer had the strength to even stand up on my own."

I see the darkness cloud her eyes. The anger, the regret. It's the same look I had when I thought my parents would never betray me. "But how are you—"

"Able to walk right now?" She looks down at her shoes, covered with mud and dirt, before looking at me. The anger has turned to something else. Something between happiness and mischief. Like she did something wrong and now, when she has the chance to tell what she did, she can't wait to spill out every detail. "I stopped going to the appointments. Eric returned to his base and I stayed in our house here. Aaron was aboe to reason out with him, tell him that he had to take care of me. He still thinks I'm weak and dying."

She shakes her head. "He's been wrong for so long now."

It's probably the first time she did this, I think. The first time she went against her husband. I continue to ask her questions that involved the things Aaron told me. Except the one about what Aaron did to Adam's mother. I know enough to not question her about that though.

In the end, we ended up talking about other things. The atmosphere remained light and comfortable, which was good.

I also asked her questions about Aaron. I asked her about how he was as child, how he became the leader of Sector 45, how he was doing the last time she saw him. She was too easy to converse with. She even made me smile and forget the world behind us. The world that's slowly crumbling into dust. Maybe that trait runs in the family.

Afterwards she says to me, "Tell me more about you." Fear starts to bubble in my stomach, rising to my throat like bile, reminding me of my parents my past my curse. It reminds me of how people looked at me. How they were absolutely terrified of me. Like I was a murderer even though I was not. How my parents immediately sent me to the detention center. The sign that was too obvious—that they have already disowned me. I can't even remember how they looked like.

Maybe, once this is all over, if I meet them, they'd ask for my forgiveness. They'd tell me that they finally understand and tell me that they miss me. They would tell me that we could work things out, start a new life as a new family.

But maybe I don't want to forgive them. What if?

Maybe I'd rather stay here, with Aaron, with the people of Omega Point. They've given me things more than family ever could. They saw me as a human being, not as a monster a murderer a living nuclear bomb. They saw that I was capable of saving the world. They gave me safety and hope.

And,

most importantly,

they loved me.

But, luckily, it seems like she doesn't want to know more about my past because when I turn to her I could see something that I have never seen in my mother's eyes before.

Love and protectiveness.

She wants to know how I feel about Aaron.

It doesn't have to take me forever to tell her all about him. I tell her about how I was taken to his Sector by one of his soldiers, how he was actually very nice to me, how I thought he only wanted to keep me so he could torture me. Her brows knit together until I tell her that it was never really his intention. I continue to tell her about how we kidnapped him, how I understood a part of who he really is when we had our conversations, how he left afterwards because of our fight—I don't want to tell her it's because I said his brother's name when we were kissing. I don't suppose she needs to have a rundown of that—and how I was taken to their house after I lost consciousness during the fight.

"He left you after he shot you." I winced. Though my fear for the Supreme has been replaced by anger and revenge, I still couldn't get over what he did to me. It's painful to die once and live again; I don't want it to happen to me a second time. And he definitely doesn't deserve to have what I did.

I look down at my shoes as I tell her what I remembered before I lost consciousness. "Aaron healed me once the Su—your husband left. With the help of Sonya and Sara, the twins. If it wasn't for him I would've been dead by now."

"Well I think my son would rather be dead too if you were to die. If it weren't for you he would have already been dead too, dear." She chuckles. "Then I'd have to clean up both of your mess."

"You were the one who cleaned the blood off the floor?"

She nods. "I immediately came out of my room once I heard the sound of the gunshot, only to find two twin girls staring horrifyingly at my son. Who was carrying an unconscious girl with her blood all over his clothes. It's hard not to offer help despite my health. Besides, if I didn't help out then Aaron wouldn't have changed you out of your stained clothes."

My cheeks start to heat, and I'm not sure if it's because her mom pointed it out so casually or because it was Aaron who changed my clothes. He's seen me in my underwear, sure, but he never really saw how I looked like because it was the lights were off that time. He must have been the one who also...

Oh God.

I don't think I could look at him without wanting to shrink myself and hide forever. If he would ever bring that up in the future...

"We're here."

I look up. Even if the house in front of me has always been there, I get the feeling as if it has never existed until now. Maybe it's because it's surrounded by houses with slightly the same exterior design. Maybe that's what the Supreme wanted in the first place; for no one to even know who owns this house and who lives in it. But I couldn't care less.

I may not be at home but I'm almost there. This is my home—maybe forever, so long as I am with Aaron then this is my home. He is my home.

Before I reach out and open the door, I stop and realize that this isn't actually my house, and that the real owner is just behind me. There's a huge difference between the words "home" and "house".

"Tell him I wish my boy the best, okay Juliette?"

"Aren't you—"

I turn around.

My eyes grow wide. My mouth hangs open.

The street is empty.

She's already gone.

~oOo~

When I open the door, I am welcomed by a silence that neither haunts or tells me that there is no one home. I could sense that there is. That and the sound of water hitting the floor above. Someone's taking a shower, and I'm hoping it's him.

The silence both terrifies and calms me. Calming because I haven't had some peace and quiet in my life eversince I left; terrifying because it might not be him and I might just die if not, both figuratively and literally.

I take slow silent steps up the stairs, following which room the sound is coming from. There are three and, if I remember, the right one is Aaron's.

I open the door to his room, then to his bathroom. I might just be invading his privacy—something I know has never happened to him before—but I don't care.

I'm home and he's still here he's still alive and I don't know how I was able to contain myself for so long.

I try to think of ways on how I should greet him. Should I surpise him? Or should I tell him now? I don't know I don't know I don't know and my useless excuse for finding ways to greet him was interrupted by an unfamiliar tune from a very familiar voice. My mind stops panicking and my heart slows it's beat, calmer, syncing it's rhythm with his beautiful voice and I think

I have never heard him like this before.

I have never heard him sing before.

I have never heard the sound of grief and anguish like this before.

It's a slow and soft tempo. It's extremely calming, yet, if you listen closely you could hear sadness laced in his voice. Loneliness and and pain. I had forgotten what the sound of someone singing sounds like. It's been years since I last heard the sound of music, and the last time I did was before my parents discovered that I was a monster.

I stood there, motionless, my eyes closed as I listened to every word every hum every sigh that escaped his lips and echoed throughout the white walls. I listened and listened and listened until, sadly, he stopped mid-song and pulled back the curtains.

And I had lost myself.

I had lost my control.

I hugged him faster than a fired bullet ever could. My arms are around his neck, a sob escaping my throat. We both fall to the floor, my weight over his. I'm sorry, I want to say. I heard you sing, I want to say. I love you, I need to say.

But nothing nothing nothing comes out and we just lie there in silence. I could feel his eyes on me, drinking me in and staring at me in disbelief, as if he's in a horrible horrible dream and I'm just an illusion. That I'm going to disappear once he tries to return my embrace.

But I'm not.

I'm real and I'm here and there's no other place that I want to be.

"Juliette?" He whispers, his hot breath tickling my ear. "Is it really you?"

I nod again and again until a few of my tears have escaped my eyes, my arms moving down to his back. He shivers under my touch. I could feel the rough marks on his skin against my palms. The marks he had gotten from his fights. The marks his father left when he was a kid.

It took me a long time to gather myself. My sobs grew louder as the memories, the letters he wrote, the faces of the people I left behind flooded my thoughts. My tears slipped faster and faster when I realized how much I missed this. Missed his arms around me, the steady beating of his heart calming me. Missed him.

After a long time I tell him, "I'm here. And you're not dreaming."

When I look up at him, a shadow of himself crosses his eyes. For a moment he looks pained, as if he remembered an old unwanted memory. But he quickly recovers when I kiss him. I kiss his cheek, his jaw. I kiss his neck and his collarbone. I kiss him again and again until he's laughing—a sound that makes my heart do cartwheels—and he's tipping my chin up, bringing his lips to mine.

It starts out soft at first, as if we're trying to familiarize ourselves again with each other, but then the kiss goes deeper, harder, and I'm starting to lose my sense of control. I let out a gasp as his hand slips inside my shirt, rubbing my back. He moves his lips to my neck, kissing and sucking my skin gently. My hands play with his gold hair, something I've missed doing.

He pulls back a little.

"Juliette I—"

"Shh." I whisper and bring my face down to his, kissing him again. His muscles relax and he lets me kiss him for a while until my hands move down to his waist, wanting to undo the towel wrapped around him.

We hesitantly pull away from each other. Disappointment floods me but I know and I understand why he's doing this. Why he doesn't want to take it further.

And my heart couldn't help but smile at the thought.

The room is filled with silence—but the good kind. The kind that's saying you don't need words or any sound to tell someone you love them. I could see the look in his eyes. The look that reassures me that he still loves me. That's the look he gives me every time.

He offers his hand and pulls both of us up. I place my head against his chest, listening to the calming sound of his slightly fast-paced heart beat, feeling the lazy circles he traces on my shoulder. A small smile plays on my lips. "I missed you."

"I know." He replies. "I missed you too."

~oOo~

I'm sitting at the edge of his bed, waiting as he stands in front of me, still in his towel. He's looking at me through the mirror he's facing. There's a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"I'm going to change. And you really should wipe off the drool on your face, love. It's unattractive." He peers back at me through his shoulder. "Aren't you going to turn around? What you're going to see is going to scar those innocent eyes of yours."

I smile at him, ignoring the heat rising on my cheeks. "No, I'm fine. I've seen you like this before. And I don't think my eyes are that innocent."

"That may be true, but I really would like it if you turned around."

"Why? Are you embarrassed?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then just change already!" I tell him, a laugh wanting to escape me.

He shook his head, his smile growing wider. "Do you really want to see my naked body?"

I nod and burst into laughter. He shakes his head, laughing, and throws his shirt at my face. "Just go and change, Juliette. You really need to take a bath."

"I don't smell that bad." I protested, but decided to listen to him anyway.

~oOo~

Later than night he tells me all about what happened to him. He tells me about how he read to pass the time. How not much had changed since I left. He seemed sadder, though. I could tell it in his eyes. I know that whatever it is, it's something he's not ready to tell me yet, and I'm willing to wait until he does.

I also told him about what I did while I was in Omega Point. I told him about the twins, about how thankful they are for what he did.

"It is I who owes them." He says, kissing me quickly. "Without them I would've lost the person I love the most."

We also talk about what I had found in the room he stayed in. About the things his father did. About Adam and his mother, what Aaron had to do to her to save his own. His body seems tired when he clarifies all of this, his shoulders slumped and his eyes losing the spark that I saw back then. The regret and self-hatred was obvious in the atmosphere around us. I panicked then, afraid that he would start to talk badly about himself, just like he did before so I kissed him, cutting through his words. He seemed taken aback at first, but gave in quickly, the life in him regaining.

He must have noticed what I felt back then because he never asked my why and what the kiss was for. He still continued though, but this time the atmosphere was lighter. The hatred and regret will never go away, I finally understood that, but I'll try my best to remind him every time that it wasn't his fault; his dad made him do it and, helpless, he had no choice.

None of us ever really did when we were kids.

But now—now we knew what we're capable of. What we can do.

Now we make our own choices, and mine is to bring down Anderson.

~oOo~

I was almost close to falling into unconsciousness when I feel Aaron gently shakes my arm from behind me. The hand draped on my torso pulls me closer to him. "Juliette, are you still awake?" He whispers, his voice gruff and hoarse. He sounded like he was crying.

"Yeah." I turn myself to the other side so I can face him. "What's wrong?"

"It's just..." He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. Sighs. "Just a horrible dream."

I wonder why we have these things. These nightmares. I myself could never experience one night of sleep without having a nightmare—I learned to accept that fact. I also learned that all nightmares are dreams, but not all dreams are nightmares.

Aaron seems like the type of person who gets dreams—or nightmares—rarely. The proof is etched all over his troubled face. Scared, anxious, frightened, angry. It's the same emotions I get when I wake up from a horrible dream. "Do you want to tell me?"

He goes silent for a too long that I thought that he had fallen asleep until he pulls me even closer to him. Close enough to let me feel the beat of his heart. The heat of his soul. His head is on top of mine, his hand is entwined with mine, and I couldn't help but think that it would be fine for me to remain like this forever. Away from the world and from destruction and disaster. Forever in this boy's arms.

It makes me want to laugh. It's impossible, I think bitterly. You have a role to play in this world, and it is not to hide yourself and the boy you love from the horror of the world.

"It was just like that night." He started. He inhales and exhales inhales and exhales inhales until he stops at 10 and continues again. There's a slight change in his voice when he speak, but he's trying to hide it. "I haven't told you that story, haven't I? I suppose it was impossible not to tell you, so I might as well be sooner than later. I can never hide anything from you, love.

It was only a few days ago, I think—God, even I forgot when it was—when I found her. I just got home from a meeting when I found her. She was dead. She died in her sleep." He laughed, a sharp bitter sound that echoed throughout the walls of the room.

"He never—He never even went to her wake. I thought he loved her more than that. I thought that maybe, since his wife is dead, he'd finally show some humane trait. But nothing happened. She didn't deserve to die that way. She didn't deserve to be disrespected by her own husband!" His body starts to tremble, his shoulders shaking violently and I don't know what to do—I don't know how to calm him or tell him that it's okay because it isn't. I don't know because I saw her I was with her a while ago and she's dead.

She had been dead for God knows how long and I was with her.

This isn't real this isn't real this isn't real

"Do you know what I found in her room that night?" He asks, more to himself than me. "I found a letter under her pillows. A letter that she wrote before she died. She spent the last few minutes of her life writing a goddamn letter to me of all people. And guess what—she knew exactly what time she would die! She knew exactly how long she had left and she never told me!

...It even... It even contained things for you. She wrote something for you too..."

He finally loses his composure his remorse his anger everything everything that shaped who he was into the man with a warm heart beneath a thick layer of coldness and cruelty is all gone, just like that. He's sobbing and choking and hiccuping and all I could do is lie there and hug him close to me. Because it's all anyone could ever offer to those who are grieving. No one can tell them that it's going to be fine or that the person they lost is still with them because they're all lies. Just a ball of lies covered and coated with small truths and words of reassurance.

Aaron deserves more than just my warmth and love. He deserves to be comforted rather than comforting the girl beside him who's now crying too.

But that's impossible.

Because we never get what we deserve. What we want for other people is not what they want for themselves.

So we both accept what we could get and thank the moon and the stars watching over us because we knew that even if our wishes can never granted we were, at least, never alone.

We eventually fall asleep in each others arms while talking about anything and everything that we could. We were able to find a way to protect ourselves in a protective shield, disappearing from all the ruins and obstacles the world has been throwing at us since the day we were born. It may never be permanent but, at least, it was enough to give me hope.

I fell asleep with his arms around my waist and our legs a tangled mess under the covers. I fell asleep with my head on the crook of his neck and his on top of mine. What he never knew, though, was that underneath the pillows lie a secret that would never be spoken.

One secret that Aaron doesn't need to know.

that I was with his mother a few hours ago. That she had been there, talked to me, even touched me while we walked back to this place. Because I honestly do not know why she guided towards their house.

I was with her, I hazily think to myself as I am slowly pulled into unconsciousness.

We talked about you.

She told me that she wishes you the best.

~oOo~

"It was difficult to get you out of your clothes, you know. Especially since you had been so stiff that time."

"...I'd rather not talk about this."

"But why? Wouldn't you like to know about what—Fine, fine! I'm just kidding. I never did anything to you." He snorts. "I have my morals."

"Good."

"But honestly, love. You're beautiful, you know that?"

"Aaron..."

"What's so wrong about pointing out the obvious? You are beautiful, Juliette. Inside, out and all the way through." He said affectionately. "But it was extremely hard to keep my hands to myself, you know."

"What do you—"

"Never mind." He interrupts, chuckling. "I just really love you."

~oOo~

Aaron showed me the letter—the plan—his mother gave to him after breakfast. He tells me that he thinks that her plan might just work. I believe that too.

We start to dissect the parts of the plan a few minutes later. Aaron called Delalieu today and told him that he won't be able to arrive since he hasn't been feeling well since last night. Surprisingly, he said, Delalieu seemed both eager and relieved when he replied.

I knew what Delalieu was thinking about, and I wanted to thank him for that. "Maybe it's because you were too focused on your job rather than—well, you understand and—what?! It's true that you're always too determined with your work! He thinks you were just making an excuse to spend the rest of the day alone and undisturbed."

He grins mischievously, as if he knows something that I don't—a secret he doesn't want to say—and I'm jealous. I want to know what this secret is. But he doesn't give me time to ask. "Delalieu knows better than to fool for that kind of excuse. I have never skipped work before." He leans closer. Whispers. "Besides, I'm not 'alone and undisturbed'."

"Of course. I'm here." I tell him, breathless. It's different somehow, this feeling. Maybe it's because it has been so long since I last left or because this might just be the first time we've ever talked that I never sounded so damaged and insane.

Because I can feel the butterflies and the whales and the elephants. I can feel the fire as his fingers lightly brush against my skin. I can feel the whole zoo inside my stomach and it's the most beautiful feeling I have ever come across in my entire life.

He looks at me with those eyes of his and I'm wondering how many times will it take me to drown from swimming in those sparkling green eyes of his. I want to get lost in them, to drink in the intensity of his eyes until I'm so so drunk that I could barely even remember what my name is anymore. That all that will remain in my memory is his name and his love.

After a decade of silence, finally he says

"Yes, you are." He says "Forever." He kisses my jaw my cheek my chin. He plants a soft kiss right beside my lips, but I tilt my head a little that he ends up pressing his lips to mine. It doesn't take forever, though, for us to get lost in each other.

"Forever." I manage to say. It may not mean much to him, but to me it means more than the world. It's the word that gives me hope. That tells me that, maybe, I can be able to stay in this world for a long time without loosing my mind.

~oOo~

We were able to plan everything out before the moon came up to greet me like the loyal friend it was. But maybe we could have finished sooner if we didn't have any unnecessary —but badly wanted—interruptions.

We start acting it out tomorrow. The plan.

The downfall of the Reestablishment.

That is, if the people of Omega Point will listen to what I have to say.

A/n: I'm already starting with Chapter 7!

Changed the cover too. If you guys haven't noticed, it's a mixture of Ignite Me's and Shatter Me's eye. I used the Shatter Me colors and title for the rest though.

OH BTW: I need a beta reader or proof reader or anyone who could at least fix my grammar. I'm awfully tired of having to re-edit and replace the chapters again and again. Sigh.

Just PM me or leave a review if you want to help me~ See ya soon!