Chapter 4: Sins of the Past

As Ethan Yates entered his bedroom, he cast an appreciative eye over the familiar environs, savoring the sense of security it brought despite the exhaustion weighing him down. Other than briefly dropping his bag off earlier, he hadn't gotten to spend any time in his room since arriving back from college earlier that day, and he was surprised by the peace that just being in it brought him. Just like one's own accent, the smells and sensations of one's truest domain are undetectable - until they have been too long apart from it, and then the reunion feels like slipping into a warm bed after a long day.

This was precisely what he had in mind, of course. He smiled as he noticed that Marley had kept up with cleaning his room, even with him gone, and she had taken the trouble to change the thin quilts on his bed to a more substantial comforter, perfect for winter - or, at least, once the season actually turned. Still, he wouldn't mind the warmth, though he stopped to switch on the ceiling fan, giving himself the luxurious contrast between a chill breeze and an enveloping blanket. Marley had even left, under the covers in the center of the bed, the familiar lump of his body pillow - a secret indulgence that he hadn't taken with him up to college, out of fear of being judged by his fellows in their apartment. It had been a gift from Marley, who had warmly teased him about always finding him koala-mode in his bed when she came to wake him up for breakfast. His habit of wrestling his blankets or spare pillows had spurred her to get him the longer pillow, which he covered with a plain blue pillowcase. He wouldn't admit, even to himself, that he was looking forward to having it back for this stay - but such was most certainly the truth.

His eyes scanned over his dimly-lit room. It was just as he had left it: his trophies stood atop his dresser, alongside photos from his various teams or with his coaches. Likewise, a few pieces of sports equipment - outgrown but heavy in memories - leaned against furniture or were embraced by display cases. A long-outdated video game console sat below his small television, while a tray containing a plethora of sports-themed games and a few basic shooters sat within the low stand. The television itself was a good distance from the bed; far enough that Nellie had been able to kneel alongside him while he had played his games, back during high school. Nellie had never enjoyed them as much, but had liked watching him play, or just playing on her phone while staying beside him. His room was pretty open for that reason; he'd never let it get cluttered, keeping his laundry heaped in the hamper at the door. His bed was also low to the ground; not the mats that Jason and Marley or Nellie used, but low enough that Nellie could have rolled onto it with ease if she had so chosen, though she rarely did, preferring to stay closer to his side. All in all, his room was reasonably spartan, if far more comfortable than his room back at his campus apartment.

Ethan allowed himself to stretch, loosening his muscles - still cramped from his intense study session in his dad's office - as he stepped up to the side of his bed. He was tired enough to pass out as soon as his head touched those familiar pillows, but he wanted to enjoy this for at least a moment before sleep took him. He considered, for a moment, taking off the shirt he was wearing; while he usually slept in ball shorts and a thin tee-shirt up at school, at home he typically went without the shirt, sleeping in just shorts, or, in the winter like tonight, in sweatpants. Still, part of him expected some form of chaos from the girls, despite that odd interaction with Nellie earlier, and so he decided to leave the shirt on as he lifted up his sheet and comforter and slid into his own bed.

Alone in his room, he allowed himself a deep groan of satisfaction at the banquet of nostalgic sensations - the feeling of those familiar soft sheets, clean and smelling of Marley's favorite detergent; the weight of his comforter, heavier than his blanket up at school; the coolness of his pillow, which still remembered the shape of his head, but was just that right degree more firm than the ones he had rested on for the past few months. His whole body sang with relaxed jubilation at those soothing feelings, and with a contentment-drunk grin he rolled onto his side, flinging his leg over his body pillow and pulling it against his chest, ready to drink so deep of this comfort that he could drown in it, sighing again in indolent indulgence.

And his body pillow sighed back, hugging him in return.

Ethan froze in place, jarred out of sync with the universe by the realization that this one thing was wrong in paradise. His body pillow was not shaped like this, curvy and soft-yet-firm. It certainly didn't have long mane of hair, loose and straight and soft and smelling of lavender. And it definitely didn't nuzzle against his chest when he held it, or hold him back in turn with slender arms and legs that entangled with his own.

With a gasp like a swimmer emerging from the deeps, Melanie Thomas's head burst out from under the covers, and she looked up at Ethan with bleary but happy eyes, her body pressed tightly against his.

"She's a very nice girl, and I'm sure that she will be able to be a big help to you."

Ethan Yates crossed his arms and frowned down at the book in front of him, petulantly avoiding meeting the kind face of his English teacher as she leaned over him. Mrs. Varia was an owl woman, her face broad and kind, and she was one of the nicer teachers that Ethan had in his eighth grade year. She was pleasantly plump and motherly, and enjoyed embracing students with her soft wings and cooing over them when they were successful at the assignments she gave - an experience many of her male students were quite fond of, especially considering her impressive chest. She was incredibly sweet - but right now, she was torturing Ethan, and he would give anything to be anywhere else except in front of her.

It had been a rough few weeks for Ethan. The worst of it had been his friend Logan moving away; for the past three years Logan had been his closest - only, really - male friend, and the only person he could really open up to - excepting Nellie, of course. The anniversary of his mom's death had been just a week ago, too, and that wound was still achingly fresh, even with Miss Marley coming over more and more to take care of things for him and his dad. And now…

Ethan had tried his hardest, he swore. He was doing okay in his other classes… not great, maybe, but okay. It was just English that he couldn't manage. He'd always struggled in that subject; he was better with things that felt real and solid, with none of this vague 'What does this mean?' kind of stuff. But his grades in here had plummeted, and after a call to Ethan's dad, Mrs. Varia had brought Ethan in for a meeting to discuss how to help him bring his grades up. Her suggestion was galling, he felt. Not only would he have to have a tutor, but since none of his fellows in his class had a particular passion for English, she had gone a grade lower to the seventh graders. Not that he had any grudge against the kids in that grade - Nellie and her friend Chrissy were pretty cool - but making a younger girl miss part of her daily break just because he was too dumb to understand this stuff was humiliating, and he knew some of the other guys in his class would mock him for needing to have a seventh-grader teach him. They already gave him a lot of grief about constantly being around Nellie, and this wouldn't help matters one bit.

"Oh, there she is now! I'll let you two get to know each other while I get the others started, and I'll be back to check on you in a bit." Mrs. Varia hurried off, swaying as she navigated the rows of desks, while behind Ethan the sound of the room's door closing sounded like the slamming of a prison gate. He still didn't look up, glumly considering the book in front of him, open to the short story that he had tried and failed to understand earlier. If only it made sense to him, then he wouldn't have to make this girl take care of him…

The girl in question sat down in the empty chair next to Ethan silently, setting down her shoulder-strapped bag and placing her hands on the table in front of her, her small, slim fingers overlapped. Ethan didn't look over at her, wallowing in his own guilt rather than facing the girl that was his unwilling captive - he couldn't muster the bravery to greet her, because that would be the same as admitting his own guilt in all of this. After a moment, he could tell she was looking at the book in front of him, more comfortable with the text than with the boy she was being forced to work with, and she cleared her throat before speaking, her voice high and a little squeaky. "Wh-which story is…"

"It's this one," Ethan said, scooting the book over so she could see it, trying but failing to mask his misery. Despite himself, his eyes flicked over to the girl as she accepted the book and started to scan the page. She was pretty, even if she looked even younger than he had expected - but maybe that was because she was so small, both short and thin. Her face was angular, with delicate-looking cheekbones and a small mouth, and she wore round glasses perched on a button nose. Her hair was a greyish-brown, long and pulled into a thick ponytail, and atop her head were large mouse ears furred in the same color. Her clothes weren't showy, and looked a little weathered - Mrs. Varia had said the girl's last name was Thomas, and he knew that that family had a lot of children. As he surreptitiously inspected her, she scanned the page in front of her, her eyes flicking back and forth rapidly.

"Oh, I know this one! I liked it. Well, kind of. It's a little sad." The girl's confidence blossomed as she began talking about the story, forgetting herself for a moment as she engaged with the book instead of the broad-shouldered older boy next to her. "It took me a bit to understand it, but I read it for fun instead of in class, so I didn't have to…" She trailed off as she glanced to the side, her face paling as she saw Ethan looking at her, her situational awareness returning like the dawn. Her lips closed and her green eyes fell to her lap, but despite her sudden meekness Ethan had to smile - he had liked seeing that happy, enthusiastic side of her, and he wanted to bring that back out.

"I don't really get it," Ethan admitted, the confession coming out far more easily than he had ever expected. "I mean, I get that the sweater is all gross and icky, but the question asks what it 'signifies,' and I don't…" He shrugged, huffing a little in frustration.

"Oh." The mouse girl blinked, thinking about his dilemma. "Well… think of it this way…" She looked at Ethan, her emerald-green eyes wide as she began to explain the story to him, her innate enthusiasm for literature dragging a smile onto her lips. Ethan listened silently, but watched her attentively as she spoke, nodding along and offering a few words here and there, but generally content - actually, surprisingly content - to listen to the girl talk.

The rest of that break flew by, and when the bell rang, they lingered in their seats, not quite finished with what had turned out to be a far more enjoyable time than either had expected. When they were forced to abandon their places at the table by the tide of humanity entering the classroom, Ethan blushingly offered his hand to her. "I'm, ah, Ethan Yates, by the way," he offered belatedly as he stood.

"Oh, I know," the mouse girl replied matter-of-factly, and immediately crimson bloomed on her cheeks. Eager to cover up her slip, she pressed on rapidly. "I'm Melanie Thomas." She reached out and placed her slim and smooth hand in his rough and broad one, and they shook, her cheeks losing some of their heat but her eyes all but glowing as she stared up at him, the faintest of smiles on her lips.

"Nice to meet you," he replied, lamely to his own mind, before suggesting, "I guess I'll, ah… see you tomorrow?"

Melanie withdrew her hand, hesitantly, clasping the book she held in front of her stomach as she rocked a little side to side, her eyes never leaving his. "I'd, ah, like that- I mean, yes, sure, that'll be…" She glanced down, her hand coming up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind the earpiece of her glasses, and she laughed awkwardly - and he responded in kind. They separated then, unwittingly trading glances as they departed, while behind them, at her desk, the owlish Mrs. Varia watched on with a maternal smile on her lips and a devious glint in her eyes, approving of the match in the making and satisfied with her own small role in it.

Ethan's angst at being tutored hadn't lasted an hour - and his eagerness for spending time with Melanie would prove far more durable.

In his bed, Ethan gaped down at Melanie as she blinked back to wakefulness, her own small lips wearing a sloppy smile as her slim hand stroked his back through his thin shirt. "G'morning," she mumbled, and then nuzzled again against his chest, audibly breathing in his scent. His own reply remained wordless, as he belatedly fought to put together the puzzle pieces of this experience. His eyes darted over to his closet, which was half-open, and inside it he could see a familiar blue pillow-cover. His body pillow had been placed there by the bed's other occupant, most likely, when she had come to sleep in here. Likewise, her glasses were perched atop his nightstand, a clue he had missed in his eagerness to enjoy his bed. But why was she…?

"I hope you don't mind," Melanie murmured, finding a way somehow to snuggle even closer to his body. "I wanted to go to sleep, but the others weren't ready." She glanced up at him, her green eyes snaring his own, and she shook her head mournfully. "Plus, Anne snores, like… loud. And I didn't think about you being back and needing your bed…" Her eyes flicked to the side as she said this, raising inevitable questions for him: first, as to whether she made a habit of sneaking in here to sleep during visits to Nellie while he was gone at college, and second, as to whether she was really being honest about 'forgetting' he would be coming to bed in here.

"It's fine," he replied, trying not to blush as she cuddled against him. He should be used to this; she had long made a habit of falling asleep against him whenever she came to visit his sister, dozing against his shoulder whenever her dormouse nature lulled her to slumber. While it had once been a blush-inducing proximity, now he took it as familiar and comforting, glad that she still trusted him so much after… Still, this felt distinctly different, with the two of them alone in his bed, her body pressed against his in alarming, exciting ways, her sleep-drunk contentedness feeling subtly more sensual than usual. "I can just go sleep in-"

The arm and leg entangling him tightened, cutting off his plans. Again, Melanie nuzzled his chest, sighing blissfully as her fingers pressed against his back. "We can just sleep in here… it won't be a problem," Melanie assured him.

'Oh, it will definitely be a problem,' Ethan's mind warned him. His body was aware of how little fabric separated it from the dormouse's skin, and just as Mel seemed to be breathing in his scent, he could smell notes of lavender in the air above her hair, a calming scent that both relaxed his muscles and stoked his desire to… touch, stroke, feel…

"You know," Mel mused, looking up at him - so strange, seeing her face without her glasses, but at the same time it felt oddly intimate - "I've wanted to do this for a long time… since my first time with you." Ethan's cheeks burned at that, aware of what she meant by it - though his mind took those words in a very different direction than what she was referencing. She looked up at him again, and there was something in her eyes, almost a silent plea. "You… didn't mind it, did you? When we slept together at the lock-in…?"

Ethan smiled back down, chuckling as he let himself reassure her. "No, I didn't," he answered, sincerity thick in his voice to shore up her quiet doubts. "I… I liked it too." His words brought her instant relief, from what he could see in her gaze, and she clutched to him even tighter - and, despite his worries, he let his arm circle her, holding her body as close to his as he could safely manage.

As much as her question had, the feeling of her relaxing against him reminded him of that evening…

"They'll come looking for us before long."

The hallway of the middle school was unnaturally silent. Other than that, there were few clues to show how different it was than how Ethan usually saw it: the windows of the door leading out revealed only shadow, and the classrooms were likewise dark and still, not a hint of faint ambient noise drifting out. It was a haunting cognitive dissonance; a subtle wrongness about such a familiar place, to be here after dark. But that strangeness brought Ethan no discomfort tonight… not with his girlfriend at his side.

He smiled down at her, to where she leaned against his shoulder, gazing up at him with a shy smile belied only a little by the mischief in her eyes. They sat together on the floor of the hallway, listening for any sign of approaching teachers, but so far the doors at the near end of the hall stayed graciously closed. This was all they had done: sit together and talk. They both knew the harried teachers watching over the lock-in would come seeking them soon enough, and they would probably get chewed out for being alone together against the rules. Still… even this was worth the inevitable scolding.

"They're going to be busy - most of the others sneaking off are going to be more creative than this," Melanie assured him, her smile a little teasing. Coming to this spot had been Ethan's idea, although she had neither complained nor offered a better alternative. While the lock-in's chaperones had outlined strict rules about couples - or any pairs - being alone together, or hiding away, or sneaking off, or just touching in general, they had left some gaps in their defenses that the students had been quick to exploit. Bathroom access, for example, was an easy chance to escape the crowd, and if a hapless teacher failed to notice that a couple sitting apart had to go at around the same time, well…

At first, the lock-in movie night had seemed kind of lame to Ethan, but the chance to be together with Melanie had encouraged him to risk it. Since they had started dating a couple of weeks ago, there had been precious few chances for them to be together physically. Being in different grades meant that the only times at school they could share were after drop-off and before pick-up, as well as lunch and their tutoring sessions at break. They took all of those chances they could, but the bulk of their time together had to be on the phone. Melanie had quickly learned that Ethan wasn't very good with messaging apps, but they spent hours together on the phone each night, sometimes not even talking at all, just existing in the same audible realm together.

"Well, then, I'm glad," Ethan replied, chuckling as he remembered catching part of the pep talk the chaperones had shared before the movie night had officially began. He and Melanie had just stayed at school until the projectors were set up in the gym and the lock-in was kicked off, and so they had overheard the principal giving marching orders to the teachers and custodians, who seemed like an army preparing for war. Indeed, some of the younger, less experienced teachers watched every shadow with paranoid suspicion, eager to catch young canoodlers in the act, while more veteran faculty carried themselves with a blasé disregard, justifying to themselves that they weren't paid enough to bother policing adolescent hormones - although they seemed to enjoy the challenge of trying anyways, at least in the hopes of earning fresh gossip. Subtly, carefully, Ethan brushed his hand against Melanie's, and with a nervous smile she let her fingers mesh with his, savoring the unfamiliar sensation of contact.

After a moment, Melanie cleared her throat with a sudden odd formality. "You, ah…" Melanie started, and then paused, considering her words carefully. Ethan glanced at her, noticing the frown on her brow - there had been something bothering her recently, and perhaps tonight was the night she would finally open up to him, reveal whatever it was that had been plaguing her. She let her eyes make the journey to meet his, and he could see the insecurity roiling there. "You really don't mind that I do most of the talking on the phone, right? You… really aren't bored?" Her voice was timorous, and her gaze drifted from his as if afraid of what he might say in response. Still, when he opened his mouth to speak, her eyes snapped back, watching him for any sign of platitudes or half-truths like a field mouse watching the heavens for a stooping hawk.

"I don't mind, I promise you," Ethan told her, resolutely meeting her gaze in an effort to convey his feelings clearly to her. "I just… I don't always have a lot to say. But I like listening to you, and it doesn't bore me at all." It was the truth, or even a shade underreaching: he took a secret joy from how differently she acted around him than she did at school. From what he had seen and heard, including from his closest friend Nellie (who had been oddly irritable lately), when she wasn't overcome by drowsiness Melanie was shy and meek in class, deliberately avoiding attention and content to blend into the background wherever she was. When the two of them were alone on the phone, though, Melanie was much more manic and emotive, talking about whatever crossed her mind, be it her thoughts on what she had read recently, or rumors from school, or even her dreams for the future or her squabbling with her siblings. She would go for long stretches talking about what she was thinking or feeling, but each time when she paused to ask a question to Ethan, he always responded without hesitation. That had almost been enough to comfort her that she wasn't being selfish - almost.

It was clear that Ethan's words reassured Melanie, and her thumb stroked the back of his hand, but her eyes fell to the floor in front of them, and Ethan could tell that her doubts were gathering their forces to sally forth one more time. He waited patiently as she shaped her words, and greeted her with a kind smile when she finally looked back up to him. "But… when you do talk to me, sometimes… when you do talk for a while… I keep falling asleep." Her shame and anguish were thick in her voice. "I don't mean to, but I've done it a bunch of times, and…"

She froze as he leaned closer, releasing her hand to reach up and stroke the side of her face. With wide eyes, she was hypnotized as if facing a serpent, and he let his face draw near to hers. "It's fine," he assured her, his voice low and quiet. "I worried I was boring you-"

"No! Not at all!" she protested passionately, but didn't draw away.

"But I figured out that I was relaxing you. Right?" He watched with a smile as she nodded hurriedly. "You wear yourself out talking, and then you fall asleep listening to me. I don't think it's a bad thing."

"Are- are you sure?" she asked, drinking deep from his eyes, leaning slightly closer as if to bridge the distance between them just a little quicker, her chest rising and falling quickly. "I don't want to make you feel less important…"

"I don't think that at all," he said, nervous himself now that their faces were so near to each other, that the tension in the air surged like electricity. "I like making you feel comfortable." Their foreheads were almost touching now, and he could feel puffs of her breath on his lips and chin. "I like-"

His words were cut off, but they hardly mattered now - when she pressed forward to kiss him, he knew that she understood what he was having trouble saying. It was their first kiss, both as a couple and individually, and it was awkward and fumbling… and intoxicating. They broke apart, shocked eyes reading a mirror in the wide pupils of their lover's, but when they both discovered love and desire there they returned for a second, better kiss. They were both quick learners, at least in this regard.

Their passion, innocent and new as it was, couldn't last long, and after a few such kisses they slumped against each other, breathless and overcome by their hammering hearts. Their shared smiles resulted in giggles, and Ethan threw his arm over Melanie's shoulders, pulling her close to his chest, which she nuzzled against happily. The hallway returned to silence except for their gradually-slowing breaths, but words were superfluous now - she had found the answers she needed in the touch of his lips. That relief dragged away the tension that had built within her over the past few days, and without that clenching tightness she felt almost boneless and spent, hollowed out enough to fill herself by breathing in his scent. Her fingers curled in his shirt, clutching to something physical to anchor herself so she wouldn't drift away, but it was too late - her overwhelming relief pulled her towards the quietude of sleep, and she was too sated to resist. Ethan didn't even hear her whispered words as sleep stole her away, only the faintest hint of, "...think 'm…'ve wi' you…"

After a moment of fighting to calm himself, Ethan glanced down at the sound of a quiet whistling, and noticed that Melanie was almost motionless against his chest, nervelessly following the rise and fall of his breaths. Just as he had said before, the sight of her sleeping against his chest filled him with a deep satisfaction - she trusted him so much that she let down her guard entirely around him, and that made him feel… important, protective. The siren song of that satisfaction, however, had its way with him as well, and when he rested his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo, he wasn't long awake either.

Their discovery was inevitable, but thankfully it was Mrs. Varia that found and woke them. While she clucked and scolded them both, there was a forbearance in her tone that left them certain they were getting off easy. They were shepherded from the darkened hallway and into the gym for the tail end of a movie different from the one playing when they had snuck out, and sheepishly ignored the teasing questions of their peers when they reclaimed their seats from earlier, but for the rest of the evening - and beyond - their minds both whirled with the taste of soft lips, the feeling of another heart beating against their skin, and their first innocent taste of the intimacy of sleeping next to their lover. It was a first teasing taste of what they could share, and they both craved more even in that moment, even as they returned home, even as they climbed alone into their own beds, dreaming of sharing their breaths once more.

And even in the years yet to come.

Ethan wondered if Melanie had fallen asleep against him, tucked into the covers of his dark bedroom. Her breathing was soft and regular, and she only barely squirmed occasionally to press against his body, but he didn't hear that familiar soft whistling that always accompanied her slumbering. For a brief moment, he wondered if this would be all that happened - and if he really did need to extricate himself from this situation. Would it be so wrong, to chastely sleep here holding his ex-girlfriend?

His unspoken question was answered a moment later, as he felt her hand slide down his back, only to slip under the edge of his shirt and rise once more, tracing faint lines up the muscles of his stomach. Her legs pulled his own higher between her thighs, and he felt a light pressure against his chest through his shirt, almost like a soft kiss from where her face rested against him. It was a slowly-kindling neediness, a snowball beginning its first meandering roll down a thickly-coated hill, but Ethan could see the unstoppable boulder that it would become, and knew that nascent goliath was careening directly towards his own self-restraint. There was a swaying hunger in her movements that drew him in, made him want to cast aside his fears and all previous resolutions and let loose his own greediness.

"I, ah…" Ethan coughed, his mind reflexively searching for an excuse, a way to escape before he succumbed, "I probably shouldn't sleep in here with you." Melanie looked up at him, and the dismay in her eyes was so raw he knew he needed something to salve it, even if it wasn't the truth - couldn't be the truth. "You see, I, ah… I usually sleep with a body pillow." He nodded towards the open closet, where the cushion had been haphazardly stored. "I'm used to having it, so that means I might be a bit, uh, grabby and snuggly in my sleep, you know-"

He had supposed that his excuse might convince Melanie of his good intentions while still giving him a window to flee, but he hadn't foreseen her immediate reaction. Instantly she locked onto him, clutching to him with desperate fervor, like a drowning swimmer latching onto their savior. Her emerald eyes almost seemed to glow as she stared up at him intently, a half-smile on her lips. "Yeah?" she asked, but the tone of her voice made it clear that word stood in for a considerably more enthusiastic response. "I don't mind," she cajoled - an obvious understatement, from how she gently bit her lip and stared up at him, proving his excuse had the exact opposite effect as intended.

"Yeah, but I would feel guilty, if I did something… wrong," he tried again, fighting to convince the inconvincible - like trying to argue the dangers of overeating with someone half-starved. He glanced down as she shifted against him, and he could see the bare skin of her thigh clutching his leg. Either her shorts were very brief indeed, or she was wearing only the tee shirt and panties - oh God, surely those weren't gone too. His tongue danced along his dry lips as his imagination surged, a turncoat to his efforts at restraint. The neck of her shirt was low, too, baring her cleavage: pale, soft skin in the thin light of the bedroom. "And… you would regret-"

"No, I wouldn't," she interrupted, her eyes trying to corner his. She could sense his crumbling resolve, gnawed at the foundations of his willpower until it creaked, and her hand slid up to his chest, feeling the muscles there with a greed of her own. "Ethan, I don't worry about anything with you. I never have." She rose upward in the bed, her face closer to his, cutting off all his escapes. "I know I can always rest easy when I am with you." She could see that he was about to fall, and a warmth spread in her chest, the prelude to the satisfaction she had sought ever since middle school - how could she help but bask in it? She nuzzled his neck with her nose and lips, and grinned at the ragged sound of his in-drawn breath. She pulled away, stealing his eyes once more, and let him see her victorious smile. "You have always made me feel so, so very safe…"

But her triumph died as she saw the horror bloom deep in his eyes.

"Hey, don't worry about it, okay? We all have to start somewhere."

Ethan nodded as he followed behind his classmate, Weston McConnell, out of the double doors at the end of the middle school's hallway. Weston was something of a class celebrity: handsome and athletic, with an easy manner and a wealthy family, he had been at the heart of the whirling current of popularity among Ethan's class for as long as he could remember. While Ethan was hardly a social outcast, he had never made an effort to be more than a side character in the cast of his peers, and, with his closest friend moving a few months before, Ethan had felt cut off from everyone else.

That was why it had surprised him when Weston had started to talk to him more frequently. Not because Ethan had expected unkindness from the other boy; Weston was typically at the least polite to Ethan, if their acquaintanceship reached no further than that. Instead, it was conversations among some of the more athletic boys in the class that had led Weston to seek Ethan out. As their time in the middle school neared its twilight, several of them had been contacted by the coach of the high school football team, who was a big believer in early recruitment and dedicated training and conditioning. Weston was all but guaranteed a place on the team, and then on the field in years to come, but the coach was eager to drum up all the conscripts he could. Others, too, were obvious suggestions. It had been Weston, however, who had noticed Ethan, who had inherited his father's height and broad shoulders, and was generally a quick pick for gym class drafts. He had decided to try to bring Ethan on board himself, and - though he wouldn't allow himself to admit it - Ethan had felt strangely honored by that attention, as if he were somehow made worthy by it.

It hadn't hurt that he had felt alone at school for the past while. Sure, he had his girlfriend, but they mostly talked during the evenings, and then there was Nellie, who had been even more cranky lately - his suspicions there was that it had something to do with the increasingly obvious attention Jason Yates was heaping on Marley, Nellie's surrogate mother. But at school, Ethan was a loner - until now. Now, he might be part of a team. He could even have it easier when he got to the high school, have a reason to make friends among the older football players. It was the first thing he had been excited about like this for a while (excepting Melanie, of course!), and so he found himself following in Weston's wake like a duckling as they made their way to the office for him to meet with the football coach for the first time.

As they made their way across the playground, Weston's voice was almost lost in the shrieking cacophony of the younger students nearby. "Coach Bell will talk to you about summer conditioning, and give you a pep talk - that's what he did with me, anyways. A bunch of the other guys have already seen him today; Josh Carroll was the last one before you." Ethan nodded, his mind flashing to the bulky, oafish regular of each classroom's back row. "He's strict, but don't let him scare you; he's a good guy." Weston shot a grin back to Ethan as he walked, and the other boy nodded resolutely, ready to face this trial head on, eagerness boiling in his gut but laced with an acidic nervousness that threatened to spoil the mix.

And that was when he saw them.

They were across the playground, at the old picnic tables that sat under the shade of a sporadic row of trees. These overlooked the bed of the creek that gave the area its name, cordoned off by a long-neglected chain link fence with considerably more and larger holes than it had been installed with. The picnic tables were also in bad shape, cracked and scuffed and spattered with pale avian graffiti, but they had been claimed by the seventh grade as their own personal turf for untold generations of students at this building. Several of the tables were occupied with lounging kids, while others played basketball or Four Square with the hoi polloi, but one table in particular caught his gaze. A group of the more vicious boys laired there, hardened by the abuse of older siblings or circumstance or just self-cultivated bad attitudes, waiting for a victim to fall into their clutches, as one girl had unfortunately done this day. She was in-between two of them, who were tossing back and forth one of her possessions, an honorless game of monkey-in-the-middle with extra cruelty added for the enjoyment of those watching. He recognized some of the boys: the Daniels kid was one of those throwing the item back and forth, while the chief hype man for the unfair contest was Ritchie McConnell. Ritchie was sprawled back onto his elbows, a predator's languid grin on his lips while he mocked the unfortunate girl, his golden ringlets shining in the sunlight - while his family was pedigreed, his hairstyle was an unfortunate arrangement of uncertain parentage, though "mullet" featured strongly in that mix. It was a striking contrast from the no-nonsense side part that his brother wore - though Weston shared the same blonde hair with his younger brother. That connection was the smaller part of the hollowness that Ethan felt deep in his stomach.

The rest was due to the identity of the girl desperately trying to catch the book flying from one bully to the other: Melanie Thomas.

As Ethan watched, pausing, he saw her fighting to catch the book as it flapped overhead, the boys hooting and laughing at her hapless attempts to grab it - if she approached the one catching it, the tome was quickly sent winging back, leaving her forever on the back foot at her desperate attempts at reclamation. Meanwhile, Ritchie heaped taunts onto her, officiating the cruel game, and while Ethan couldn't hear his words, it was clear from his face how much venom was laced into them. Fury seethed at the edges of Ethan's vision, but-

"Hey, you coming?"

The words caught Ethan cold, and he looked at Weston's easy, unwitting grin with barely restrained horror. He saw the choices in front of him - and the consequences - in an instant. Was there a way he could, without alienating his new friend and all the older brothers of those boys, rescue Melanie from her torment? Was there something he could do?

Maybe there was. But he just nodded, and faked a smile, and followed along, swallowing his pride and so much else. He stepped into the other side of the building, fighting to forget what he had seen, what he should have done, who he should have been. He told himself he could make it up to Melanie later.

He lied. And he knew it.

"Ethan? Are you okay?"

At this moment, Melanie's concern was a cruel joke to Ethan. Why should she worry over him, when he was the one that had hurt her? The events on the playground hadn't been the worst of it. That had come soon after… the excuses to get off the phone early, the distractedness, the cold feeling that a third person - his guilt - was sitting in on their conversations. And then, when she had started to ask what was wrong, to worry and to plead… he had broken up with her, offering her little more than stubborn silence when she had begged for the reason. He couldn't explain this to her; he didn't have the words, other than to tell her it wasn't her fault. And that had been achingly true, but the truth of it didn't make it any more convincing for her. He hadn't even been able to explain it to Nellie, when she had come to him to ask - had even gotten angry, not at either girl, always at himself. He deserved that. He deserved worse. He should have been better.

That was the humbling self-recrimination that he could never let escape. It belonged to him and him alone, a tainted treasure for his own private viewing. He could have stood up for Melanie, then or afterwards - for years afterwards. But he hadn't. And he couldn't even make himself certain that he would now, if he were in the same position, having failed once before.

Melanie deserved a better man than him. One that would do more than make her feel safe, one that wouldn't leave her in need. And so, this had to end - he had to escape.

But Melanie could see the war in his eyes, could tell that she was losing him. In that fragile moment, one monosyllabic question rose to burn at her lips, the painful mystery that had kept her doubts and self-recriminations ever-sharpened, and she knew he was the only one that could shatter those, and with only a few words of his own. But that could - had to - wait. As miserably as she wanted to know why, why she hadn't been good enough… she wanted him so much more. The rest could wait, as long as she could have Ethan. And so, spurred on by her own heedless desperation, she tried one more assault on the stubborn walls of his heart.

Ethan glanced down when he felt her tugging at the bottom of his shirt, and, while her smile looked a little more nervous, it was devious as well. "Hey, do you always sleep with a t-shirt on?" Melanie asked coyly. She knew the answer well; it had been a point of great jealousy between Nellie and the other trio that the nightmare could occasionally sneak nighttime peeks at Ethan in just his shorts. "You should be as comfortable as you can, and it's a little warm under this comforter…" Her other hand slid down to toy with the lower reaches of her own sleep shirt, a subtle tell at the next step of her plan of seduction.

But Ethan saw his opportunity. "I've gotten used to it," he admitted, almost truthfully. "I wear this around the guys up at college… they like to burst in on me every now and then, either to ask for help with homework or to mess with me." He chuckled at that, and when he opened his eyes, he saw in her gaze the weakness he had been aiming for: curiosity. "It's not so bad, though," he went on, and despite herself Melanie listened, hungry for any details about him and his life. "I think you'll like college. It's rougher than high school, except not, sometimes… it's hard to explain. It's nice having more time off, but you have to make yourself do more work, you know?" He smiled down at her again, and noticed that he had captured her attention totally. To set that hook, he let his hand raise, and Melanie shivered in pleasure as he gently stroked her hair, running it from the peak of her scalp far down her back, and then returning to repeat the process slowly, gently. "My English class is mostly reading essays and writing papers, but science lab is a lot of fun. And some of the things they have up there are amazing… you'd love the library, it's huge. And the food is way better…" And so on he went, his voice even and calm and quiet, his hand making passes down her neck and back. She leaned into him, her eyes heavy, breathing in his scent once more as her body melted against him.

"Stoooppp… I'm gonna fall asleep…" she whined softly, but he pretended not to hear, still petting her, still talking about his experiences on campus. Clearly petulant, she snuggled against him, but his warmth accepted her, and soon the siren song of slumber led her away. Ethan didn't stop even when he heard the faint whistle of her breath, pressing on until he was absolutely certain she was deeply under.

It was time to go, but… he hesitated. Free from her insightful gaze, he let himself stare at her face. He had always found her to be pretty, even as a gawky seventh-grader a year under him, but now he could admit to himself that she stole his breath away sometimes. She was even prettier now, and sexy enough to leave his resistance brittle. Forcing himself, with effort, to keep his eyes from straying too far southward, he nobly kept his intentions pure, even as he could feel his own hunger clawing at the doors. It would be so easy to wake her - just a soft press of lips to lips - and from there, nothing was beyond possibility…

But Melanie deserved better. Better than him. And so, yanking at his own leash with a titan's effort, he slid across the bed away from her with exaggerated efforts to leave her undisturbed. He didn't see, under the comforter, that her hand reached for him even from the depths of her slumber, and a shadow passed over her relaxed face. But he stood at the edge of the bed and watched her for long moments, his heart heavy with emotions too jagged to sort through.

She could have been his, if he had been better. And he would have loved her, endlessly and forever. He still…

The door opened once more, only to close soon after, leaving absolute silence aside from Melanie's whistled breaths, a quiet lament for her defeat.

Inside her room, where she rested listlessly against the door, Nellie heard the door to Ethan's room open and close, and footsteps recede towards the stairs. She knew well what that signified: the night's first defeat - well, second, if one counted her own ill-fated efforts. Her face resting against the wall near the door, Nellie knew that she should feel relieved that one of her rivals had fallen… but even this brought her no relief, only guilt at her own self-absorption, and a gentle regret for Melanie. She would be so disappointed when she woke up…

Nellie remembered the day after the break-up, when Melanie had come to her with tears in her eyes. Nellie should have been triumphant, had even hoped for this to happen, but… it was impossible to resist empathizing with the dormouse. After all, Nellie dreamed of having Ethan for herself, and to imagine losing him and not knowing why was torturous. And so she had promised to find out the reasons for why it had happened. That promise was futile, since Ethan wouldn't even open up to her about it, but in the intervening days, she found herself liking Melanie more and more, until she thought of her as a friend…

Nellie sighed, and stared up at one of the posters on her wall as she tugged on the lime-green wristlet she wore. It was the one with her favorite singer, the human woman dressed in black with fishnet stockings, her expression bold and eager, her stance commanding. It radiated a courage Nellie had never felt, but she couldn't draw that emotion from it tonight. She, too, had her own disappointments to nurse for now.

Nellie's ears perked when she heard soft footsteps outside once more, this time coming from the nearby bathroom. When her door opened, however, it was Candy who stepped inside, an inscrutable expression on the weresheep's face. The cheerleader had changed into one of Ethan's spare button-up shirts, which hung loosely on her and had been only sporadically buttoned, but despite her risque appearance her demeanor was more serious than sultry. "So," Nellie greeted her, "it seems you were right not to be worried that you didn't win when we drew lots."

That had been the only solution the girls had managed to come up with for the night's 'main event.' They had drawn papers with the names of rooms written upon them, and that place would be their territory for the night - if Ethan came there, then he was all theirs for as long as he stayed. His room had been the obvious winner, of course, but when Melanie had drawn it first, Candy hadn't been dismayed at all.

"Because I knew she wouldn't have the nerve to push him," Candy answered coolly, sitting down beside her best friend, tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder with a practiced flick. "Anne doesn't either."

"And you do?" There was no malice in the question, only resigned curiosity.

Candy sighed, taking a long moment to respond or to look at her friend. "Nellie… I want him. I have for a very, very long time… longer than even I was aware of it." Nellie didn't respond, merely looking away, but the telepathy of long friendship gave the weresheep her response. "And I know you've wanted him even longer. But you won't chase him, and it just isn't fair for neither of us to have him." Candy's voice stood on uncertain ground, one foot on rocky courage, the other on crumbling regret. "I'll do whatever I have to have him, but…"

It was Nellie's turn to divine her friend's next thoughts. "I won't hate you. I understand." But she didn't turn to face Candy, and the weresheep stared at her with wide blue eyes, her fingers pulled into tight fists at her sides.

The pair fell into silence. Whole debates could have passed silently between them, a well-sculpted discourse they both knew by rote. It was flavorless dance for them, ground so familiar it had been trodden into grooves. But the feelings remained, raw and potent - and the strongest of them all was love, more reactive and challenging than any other, both their love for Ethan and for each other.

Finally, Candy stood from beside her friend, her body tense and tight. She paused there for a long moment, before looking down to Nellie with resolve in her eyes. "I'm going," she declared simply. Nellie's mouth opened, but she was never going to be able to wish Candy luck on this particular endeavor. Instead, she offered her friend the closest thing to a smile she could manage, and Candy's reply was a grateful nod, understanding how much even that cost her closest friend.

And then she, too, was gone - footsteps fading into the dark. And Nellie was left alone with her regrets, and her imagination, and her quiet longing for the one person who could make her feel better right now - the one who always had.

But she was alone, and the night had only begun.

Author's Note: Apologies for the faint tardiness on this one - I'm in deadline central for the yearbook, and have had scant few chances to write. Despite that, this chapter has been calling to me, and so I hope to have done it justice. It is melancholy, for sure - but it must be, as resolution requires conflict, and compelling happy endings must be earned.

In regards to my hopes for this work, I should first note that I am aware of the task I signed up for with this story: four love stories, told convincingly, that have to come to a shared resolution of some sort. And so, I can only hope that Melanie's tale is meaningful thus far - she shall have to wait for a while until her resolution. I shall leave you to guess who is next.

Finally, for this short note - thank you, always, for comments, compliments, stars/kudos, all of it. I always consider what people have to say, and it gives me the push I need sometimes to keep hammering at these keys. I pray you have thus far enjoyed it, and, if so - I will be back soon enough, with the next chapter in tow. But, for now, like my tragic dormouse…

I must sleep…

~Wynn Pendragon