บท 5: CHAPTER 3
Song of the Chapter: Helium ~Siaa
Chapter: 3
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PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark
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His grip gradually loosens, but it feels like it takes forever. The intensity of his scorching gaze almost draws me in and for the long long moment I feel bare - as if my soul has been left out in the open, for his horribly perceptive gaze to scan it through.
"I never noticed just how soft your skin feels under my touch.", he murmurs with a husky lilt in his voice that makes me want to tremble. But I hold on strong - my reactions frozen and my gaze meeting his, steadily. I still fail to respond.
"Aizea?", Andre asks, his gaze finally loosing the scorching intensity that made me more apprehensive than excited, and brimming with scrutiny and concern. But I don't miss out the undertone of sharp suspicion. Why does all hell head towards breaking loose today only? "What?", I ask softly - almost meekly - hiding the anxiety in my voice.
He clears his throat, squares his shoulders and when his glowing orbs focus on me, they are clear with resolution. Trouble, trouble, trouble. I blink, subtly encouraging him to talk.
"I want you to come out with me tomorrow. It's an holiday, you know. We can hang out a bit after the weekly gathering."
Although, he doesn't say more, I know that he wants me to attend this week's weekly gathering, so that I certainly don't miss the announcement of his coronation. I'm not sure, though, if I really want to witness either of the announcement or the coronation first-hand; but, irrespective of what I want, I know that I have to.
And, when I have no option to not attend the events, why should I not want to 'hang out' with Andre? More than anything, he is indeed one of my two closest friends.
However, an alarmed voice from within some locked depths of my subconscious advises me to say no. Honestly, I don't want to say no to Andre, yet again. Not with how his clear blue eyes look at me beseechingly, right now, with piercing intensity.
I nod and Andre's face breaks into a smile that can win a hundred hearts and dazzle the morning sun. I can't help smiling back.
Afterall, I do love him, even if only as a really good friend and not in some romantic way.
"Then, see you after tomorrow's gathering.", he says softly, the hardness in his eyes finally vanishing totally as he lifts my hand up to his lips and places a soft kiss at the centre of my palm. It makes me feel a bit flattered - no one has ever expressed such a gesture to me; of course, not counting my dreams.
Althroughout the rest of the school hours, he keeps touching my hand every now and then.
At first I had an almost giddy feeling thinking that he was probably checking if I and the 'yes' after all the 'no's were real. But, as my eyes coincidentally meet his, during the lunch hours, I notice that that's not the case.
He wants to reassure himself that he is winning and soon enough, his shifter will get what it needs, or maybe, wants so bad.
As I hold Sheroa's hand today and walk back home, I turn around to spot a smug expression on Andre's face, that makes me feel thoroughly objectified.
I am no trophy to be won in a tug-of-war of wills!
Moreover, if his smug shifter thinks that it is winning or something, well, it's just too wrong. I would never love the shifter whose howls rip the peace of the night into shreds. I can only ever love Andre - the jovial, charming, caring friend with sparkly blue eyes that take after the deep ocean.
I just have no idea how it can ever be practically possible to carry out this 'love' in real life when I hate these shifting monsters just so much.
And, here, I admit it!
As I step in through the door, I am haunted by the memory of Melinda's look from this morning. Unknowingly, I swallow and immediately feel the warmth of Sheroa's posture right next to me. I turn to look at him warily. To my great relief and joy, inspite of the slight reddish tiny in his dark eyes, he looks thoroughly sober.
I am guessing that even his shifter is pretty much sober.
"What is it, dear?", he asks me, his voice naturally gentle with paternal affection.
At first I decide against telling him about Melinda and my eerie interaction - eye-to-eye interaction - in the morning. But, as I deliberate it further, some subdued voice from within me tells me that I should probably let him know.
"Actually, umm... I don't exactly know how I should put it, but, this morning, I had a weird off-moment with Melinda err... Mom.", I rush through the words, stuttering twice, almost expecting Sheroa to ask me to elucidate further. But he doesn't.
His brows crease into a worried frown, as if studying me - trying to see through me, and for the first time in my seventeen years of life, my father's any gesture is giving me a queer feeling in the spine. What a great day to have all the weirdest (scariest) firsts!
Sheroa lightly clears his throat before saying in a tight voice, "You should follow the etiquettes, dear. Without exception." I nod.
As Sheroa heads towards their common bedroom, that has its doors closed with Melinda and my brothers inside, probably studying, I suddenly decide to tell him about Andre's offer too.
"Andre asked me out.", I almost exclaim, yet somehow manage to keep my voice quiet.
Sheroa turns around and almost smiles saying, "Again?", but then he notices the shaky and slightly guilt-ridden expression on my face and freezes.
He spins around to completely face me. "You didn't agree, did you?" His voice sounds so pensive that it multiplies my guilt my leaps and bounds. "I did.", I whisper meekly, and he looks as if he had just been stricken by a stray bolt of lightning.
"That's not true.", he states quietly and incredulously, as if trying to make himself belive that I didn't.
I didn't commit a crime by finally agreeing to spend some time with Andre, for once. Its not like I am starting to see him every day now on and this is the inception. I just didn't want to see the thoroughly dejected look that darkens his handsome face every single time I say no.
I know it's a risky - no, strike that out, very very very risky - thing to do, but how much downhill can it possibly go? Seven- eight hours with Andre doesn't sound that bad, anyway.
"Have you lost your mind?", Sheroa anything but roars and I want to flinch, but I don't. I won't.
"I didn't want to turn him down, yet again.", I reply, sounding a little more confident that before and infinitely less confident than I irreasonably feel.
Sheroa's face morphs into a mask of disgust and anger, the concern vanishing.
"I should've known. I should've known that I could never get one of them belong to our land and our family. No matter how hard I try. How could their tendency of going against the norms not flow in this girl's veins?!", he exclaims in pure rage, before storming into their room and slamming the door behind. I hear a muffled shout of "Do as you like!", from that side of the door.
I stand rooted on the spot - frozen. I am shocked beyond explanation, and tears of anguish roll down my cheeks. I have never felt so rejected and dejected in my whole life.
There we go! Those two words. Rejected and dejected.
If Andre has ever felt this level of anguish owing to any action or word or gesture of whatever of mine, I am all the more determined to go out with him tomorrow - if only to atleast try to make it up to him for once.
The tears continue to scald my cheeks, rolling singularly down, tracing a wet, hot path and very certainly leaving behind salty-stains. I slowly walk to my room, dinner being the last thought on my completely shaken mind.
After changing, I don't even bother freshening up or even locking the door, for that matter. Looks like my sense of self-preservation is slowly evaporating.
I am on the verge of plopping down into the comfort of the bed, when I hear three discreet knocks on the open door.
Chorsh.
I force an affectionate smile onto my face. Another person that I really love, no matter what.
Despite being two years younger than me, Chorsh tends to be really understanding and this is not the first time that he's here to support me through something tough. He's always been the brother in need, the brother indeed.
I slowly sit down on the edge of the bed and I don't have to gesture to him twice, as he takes his seat right beside me. It's almost dark and the reddish hue in his clear brown eyes is more prominent than I am used to seeing. So, I don't protest when he keeps the distance of a few feet between us.
"He just got a bit too mad.", he begins saying whatever he is here to say, his voice sounding a little heavier than normal. "But, believe me when I say this Aizoo, he really loves you a lot. I don't know what this great secret is, but he'll do absolutely anything to make sure that it's never leaked. He just wants you safe, that's all. And for some reason, he is extremely sure that spending time with Andre is the most unsafe thing for you to be doing. Honestly, he doesn't even want you spending time with any of us after sunset. I'm here, talking with you, only because mamma is successfully calming him down, there."
Our eyes meet and I see a film of tears above the love beneath. Bit, something else lurks beneath that too. Hunger. The same as Melinda's from this morning. But I decide to pretend to not notice that.
He had once advised me, "The ignorant are often spared when the aware are not."
I don't know why I always follow his advices whenever a question of basic survival arises. Maybe because I don't quite trust anyone else on that deep a level.
I smile at my brother. I don't know what kind of monsters all of them have within themselves, but I love the rest of them.
"Thanks a lot for your words, Chorsh." And I really mean it. I just needed to hear this. This reassurance that my father does love and care for me after all.
Chorsh leaves and I ditch dinner, locking the door and window and for once tucking myself to bed. I even leave out the mandatory bed-time book. I am in a hurry tonight. In a hurry to fall asleep before the noises begin. I am not sure I'll be able to spend the day with Andre after hearing him tonight.
For an odd moment, I wonder what his howl would sound like tonight.
But over everything, I am in a haste to meet him. I need him after all the mess that has been this day.
****
I am standing in the same place as everyday. The wind whirls through the dark misty depths of the forest and around the thick and talk moss-covered tree-trunks. It's whistle thickens till it sounds a bit haunting, and then it weaves an enchanting spell, almost dragging me into its net of sense-less enchantment. I even begin considering what it would feel like to just let go and let this enchantment wrap me in its intricate folds.
But, then I feel his touch at the base of my neck and realize that I had closed my eyes. I let them fly open and the sight of his crisp white shirt - the fabric stretching into a smooth perfection over his sculpted body. I follow the line of the perfectly done buttons, along his neck, his sharp jawline, romanesque nose to his shining amber eyes.
This is why amber is undoubtedly my favourite colour.
They glow like embers, and are fiercely gorgeous. They are alight with love, determination, rage, anguish, devotion, longing and so many more emotions that swirl together in the brilliant amber, beyond my interpretation capacities.
I study his absolutely perfect features which define perfection, and wonder who or what he is. He is just too perfect to be a random person. He has to be something Divine.
He takes my hands in his, the alarm in his eyes and his touch raising goosebumps all over my skin.
"Why won't you come with me, se agapó? You think that I can possibly be more dangerous than these people you live with? Tell me, can you yourself imagine anything or anyone more dangerous?", he asks, his velvety cadence dripping with the urgency of an ultimate emergency.
His eyes are pained. I am slowly cracking, till the floodgates finally open completely.
"I don't know. I don't know who you are. I don't know what those endearments that you call me, mean. I don't know what lies on the other side of this forest and these mountains. I don't know how to love and hate my friends and family, at the same time. I don't even understand how serious a threat I am under, there. I don't know what you are leading me into. I don't know anything! Nothing at all!"
I end in an exasperated scream. I want to know all of it, and I know none of it.
His gaze softens and the emergency vanishes from his touch and gaze. He sighs. "The answer to all these questions of yours lie where I am all-too-willing to take you."
I hate this. I hate how he speaks in such short and such explosive sentences!
"And where is that?", I ask, withdrawing my hands out of his.
"Home."
Did I just imagine that or did he actually say that out loud? I examine his face and his oh-so-kissable lips, to double-check. His eyes follow mine and the corners of the said lips quirk up into a I-know-you-more-than-you-know-yourself smirk.
I quickly look away.
Ughh! Kissable, really? Where did that even come from?!
"What did you say?", I ask him. He gives me a sad smile in response and I know that he actually said that. But...
Before I can say anything more, he slowly starts dissolving away into the air. I want to scream - Don't!
I have so many questions. So many questions that no one but him will ever possibly answer. And, I have to admit this, that I've started to feel this strange tug in my heart whenever I'm around him. A tug that I never feel around anyone else.
But by the time I almost decide to tell him this, I can no longer see him and then the soothing darkness of a dreamless sleep has sucked me within.
****
"Stay safe, my sweet girl.", the soft murmur that bounces around inside my head, brings me out of the last traces of sleep and I groggily open my eyes, cringing slightly when the bright light falls on them.
It's late and I can bet that I have never slept this late in my whole life. I jump up on the bed and then straight out on the floor.
Sheroa, who was previously sitting near my pillow on the edge of the bed, is now standing and laughing real loud.
"Relax, Aizea!", Melinda says from the doorway and I notice that she's standing there with clear brown eyes, her head reclined sideways on the doorframe.
"What time is it?", I ask urgently, as I move to rapidly pick my towel, lingeries and a pink floral printed summer-dress - my best and thus the one that I always wear to the weekend gatherings, from the closet.
"It's just a little past seven-thirty. It's alright. We won't be late.", Sheroa, having finally recovered from the solid laughter-session, says, trying to comfort me, but instead freaking me out all the more.
"Seven-thirty! Oh no!", I exclaim in a horrified whisper, as I sprint to the washroom. I hear their amused laughter from the other side of the washroom door.
I have had a nice night's sleep after quite a few days - all thanks to him - and the traces of the night's peace is visible on my face. My eyes are clear and so is my sleep-nourished skin.
I brush my teeth in record time, take a quick bath, wash my hair with the fruit-flavoured hair-wash, and then start towel-drying my hair vigorously. It takes a while, and then I get dressed quickly. I towel dry my hair further, till it's almost totally dry.
I race to my room and run the comb through the tangles, getting irritated out of my mind at how frequently it gets stuck.
"Breakfast is ready, children!", Melinda calls out. I smile at how exceptional the weekends are. This was the one day of the week when we could forget the morning norms - because they were only valid till about six or so in the morning, and we never usually wake up before seven on the weekend day.
I grab a hair-tie from the dressing counter and run to the breakfast table. No cereals.
Delicious sandwiches with chicken filling, instead. Beautiful.
As I dig into the breakfast, I can't help but think about the day that I am about to spend with Andre. Finally.
However, the biggest question is - shall I mourn or rejoice?
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