"Morning."
"It is, isn't it?"
Confusion temporarily mangled the oxymoronically tenderly macho face of the blue-head, a feather light laugh eventually emitting itself in response.
"Morning," I finally conceded smilingly, as I observed how the canopy of trees that crosshatched Fugue Forest created the illusion of melancholy gloom. Tremors of drabness basked in the heavyweight air. "Not an awfully good morning though, is it?"
"You never really know, in here. Kind of transports you to an entirely different dimension."
"Probably the Dark Ages."
A smile flicked the corners of Luke's mouth upward; the dense forest air transformed his amber eyes imperial topaz. A blanket of syrupy humidity, thick enough to press against our skin, engulfed us.
"I heard that you're dating Chase."
"Where'd you hear that from?"
"Not much stays secret around here."
A lone bird chirruped, its discordant melody piercing through the veil of tension that hung around us.
"I wouldn't call it dating."
Hope sprung forth in his sharp topaz eyes. Doubt was its companion. I eyed him warily, buying myself time to dictate my choice of words.
"But it's not nothing."
"Oh." Dejection rang through his sole syllable.
More quiet came to rest on our shoulders, dragging them down with undetectable weight.
"You sound disappointed."
"I am."
"Why's that?"
Amber is capable of preserving the dead – of encasing long deceased ants and scorpions; leave them frozen for eternity. Amber's capable of holding together destruction that's waiting to happen.
Luke's eyes were topaz today.
"You know why."
My own amber eyes averted themselves, the knot in my throat reluctant to swallow itself away. "I suppose I do."
"I warned you not to, though," I offered, in some redundant form of consolation to Luke's – third, now, is it? – indirect confession of love.
"Couldn't help it," he retorted swiftly, toothy grin making its speedy reappearance on his face. I much preferred it to his dejected frown. "Doesn't mean I'm about to give up, though."
I rolled my eyes in annoyance, a fiery tirade building up on the tip of my tongue, "I'm not some kind of game for you to just pursue as you please. It's not a fucking woman's job to be a trophy for men to seek after, only to be consumed and invaded and spat out so that some man can evolve."
"I never said that that's how I see you."
"How do you see me, then?"
The distant churning of the gears that was the Garmon Mine District seemed to seep its way through the canopy of Fugue Forest, invading our misty silence with the harsh resonances of metal against metal, the subtle reverberations of hammer against mine floor.
"Beautiful."
I scoffed unabashedly; disgust curdling in my every synapse. "Beautiful?" I let the word burr out of my mouth, watching as it oozed to the ground. I glared at it, willing it to disintegrate. Turn to ashes.
Luke smiled, in spite of my revolted response. Amusement danced around his eyes in the form of fairies.
"You're beautiful, and you don't even know it."
I shrank further away, annoyance building up inside of me. "I'm not interested in hearing that," I finally spat out, scowl ready at my lips.
"You're beautiful," he repeated regardless, "but you're beautiful the way a forest fire's beautiful."
My eyes narrowed by instinct, fingers curling into themselves as my heart teetered perilously on an abyss. It dangled from a few lone arteries, threatening to snap at any moment. I sighed, willing my heart to continue dangling; to do anything but snap. "The fact of the matter is," I started, allowing my gaze to stray over to Luke, who was unconsciously carrying out his signature act of fidgeting with his blistered fingers, "you make me feel a lot more than you know."
"And how does Chase make you feel?"
"You don't need to know."
"How does Chase make you feel?" He repeated; persisted.
"Like myself."
His reticence left my words hanging in the air, coating us in my bared vulnerability. Sliding over our arms, slithering through gaps in the air.
"Like I can do anything. Like I can be anything I want to be."
"Look at you, getting all cliché."
I raised an irked eyebrow at him, leaving him to emit a laugh of carelessness; nervousness.
"And how do I make you feel?" He ventured precariously; broad, unevenly tanned shoulders bracing unintentionally for my answer.
"Like there's a precipice, and I'm falling."
His ears seemed to perk up, like when a dog hears its name being uttered. I went to quell any fires that might have been sparked in his naïve heart.
"And I don't mean that romantically," I rushed, hurriedly, bluntly. His ears fell – down, boy, down. "I meant that… If Chase represents creation, then you're destruction."
His eyes were topaz today.
"Destruction's also a form of creation," he smirked, utterly uncharacteristic of the usually overly jovial blue head. One edge of his lips curled upwards ever so maliciously – temptingly.
Luke wasn't letting me stand by and watch as he saved himself. He was trying to destroy me along with him.
"Sometimes the only way to rebuild yourself," he continued, topaz eyes glinting gravely, "is to destroy yourself first."
Topaz isn't capable of holding destruction together. Topaz just lets destruction fall.
His impaling words littered the atmosphere, stabbing into my chest as they dropped.
"You don't love me."
"Why do you say that?"
My eyes were still amber. "You don't destroy the person that you love."
Destruction has a way of sucking you in, swirling around you, and encasing you until you're gasping for air. My heart dangled from a quickly thinning artery, in grave danger of getting imbibed by the destruction that surrounded Luke.
"Hey," I finally began, backing a step away from the blue-headed time bomb in front of me, "You say you love me, right?" Emphasis on say.
He nodded noiselessly. My heart suspended from an emaciated vein.
"What do you think love means?"
"I really don't know," he chanted naïvely, ridged nail edges dragging unsettlingly across his rough palms. "I think it means, 'Don't leave me here alone.'"
Silence reared its ugly head. There was nothing left to be said.
"Hm."
"Do you love him?"
"Chase?"
"Who else?" He joked lightheartedly, the barest smile playing on his lips, gifting me with a sense of relief.
"No," I stated with certainty – although I wasn't sure who it was that I was trying to convince anymore. "I don't believe in love."
"Why not?"
"What good is it?"
Blue. The colour of his straggly hair seemed to be reflected in his lips, despondency tugging the edges towards gravity, in a battle of will. His façade against his inner turmoil. Amber against topaz.
"Not much," he replied, a tinge of optimism – amber – flickering in his voice, "But I suppose that's what it is." He made his precarious transition from amber to imperial topaz. "Knowing it'll destroy you, but wanting to be destroyed anyway."
"Hm."
Quiet hummed over us, dressing us in uncomfortable tension, taunting us with bitter apprehension. Quiet reigned when there was nothing left to be said.
I turned on my heels, eyes averted from the topaz mess that was on the precipice of crumbling. "See you," I mumbled out hurriedly, in a rush to remove myself from the vortex that was Luke.
"Will I?" A vulnerable voice trembled towards me, tugging on my arm, pleading with me to stay. For one more moment.
I stopped. "Will you what?"
"Will I see you again?"
"What kind of question is that?" Go, go, go. One more second and you'll get eaten alive.
"Whenever we say goodbye, I'm always afraid it'll be the last time."
"You never know," I cautioned, by instinct, "It could be."
"Yeah," he murmured, pacing a few hesitant steps towards my turned back. Energy radiated from him. "That's what scares me."
Don't look, don't look, don't look. If you look, you won't be able to turn away.
"You're a time bomb," he continued, imperial topaz eyes boring into my back, "and you could explode at any given moment."
"I think you're talking about yourself," I rebutted, foot poised to take another step – to run as fast as I could from the blue-head who would be my undoing.
"Molly," he called out, voice trembling, on a precipice, "Will I see you again?"
"Maybe," I finally responded unwillingly, straining out a choked joke in a last-ditch attempt to lighten the increasingly somber mood, "I'm a busy woman, after all."
Luke played along, his trademark genuine smile making its reappearance on his rugged face once again. "Oh?" He probed impishly, topaz – topaz – eyes glinting playfully, "What're you busy with?"
"I don't know," I replied, before proceeding to snipe the light mood dead, "Lately, I'm finding myself increasingly torn between wanting to self-destruct and wanting to self-create."
Disclaimer: I do not own 'The L Word', Neil Gaiman's work, 'Blue Valentine', 'Donnie Darko' or 'The Heart of the Matter' by Callie Torres.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed this latest instalment! Obviously, Molly is torn between the two sides of her nature – destruction and creation, represented by Luke and Chase respectively. I feel like Luke's character has completely altered from what I originally intended him to be, but that's alright (I think?) Also, I changed the summary of the story because I felt like the previous one wasn't enthralling enough. Please review/follow/like and let me know what you think!