Chào các bạn! Vì nhiều lý do từ nay Truyen2U chính thức đổi tên là Truyen247.Pro. Mong các bạn tiếp tục ủng hộ truy cập tên miền mới này nhé! Mãi yêu... ♥

A Heart Unlocked: Memories Best Left in Darkness (Part 2)

Micah's POV

My dress, exploding with delicate lace, twirled around as Daire released me from his spin. Dizzy and giddy beyond my breaking point, I stumbled to a wobbly halt, arms spread for a balance I believed I would never again attain.

Unfortunately, luck never did like me.

My foot snagged on the protruding foot of the flimsy table set up for the dance, and I felt myself nearing the floor for an unwanted kiss. But a pair of arms strong from years of strenuous sports wrapped around my comparatively tiny waist, bringing me back against a warm chest. Daire's frantic heart, jolted from the dance, beat against my rib cage.

"My bad," he laughed close to my ear. A tingle went through my spine. So this was closeness, hm? Not entirely the euphoria I'd been expecting, but it beat being kept at arm's length by miles.

"How is it that I'm the one with no dance experience whatsoever, but it's you who nearly kills his partner?" I asked, twisting around in his arms. Our faces were only a hairs breadth apart, and my crimson cheeks were evidence. His sexy grin seemed no less blinding even at this distance.

"Mhmmm, I wonder why..." The corner of his mouth tipped up a fraction as he brushed his nose against mine, cinching his arms tighter around my waist so that no space remained between us. My breathing turned soft and shallow, while his never wavered.

Our difference in experience was suddenly as clear as the rather obvious "move" Mikey Weston was trying to pull on his longtime crush, Ayana Blake, only ten feet from us. The boy didn't know the meaning of the word subtle.

I pressed my hands to Daire's chest and shoved him back, enough to allow my erratic heart the space it required to recover. I still felt like I was running some nightmarish never ending marathon.

"Micah...?" Daire's brow creased in worry as he drew closer, probably attempting to comfort me. I stepped back out of arm's reach. The popular band playing through the gym's loudspeakers, some mainstream group that never quite made my parents' list, cooed out a bubbly love song as romantic as it was anesthetic: the lullaby lyrics made my once-racing heart still as though I were entering a deep sleep.

I drew in a slow, calming breath, fisted my hands to gather my courage. The question had been plaguing me since the day Daire roped me into coming with him to the dance.

"Why, exactly, did you ask me to come with you?"

He didn't react instantly. It was delayed, and I slowly watched the question sink in. His brow furrowed further, lips sunk into a thoughtful frown. The amused gleam his eyes had held all evening dimmed. He started to reach a hand for me, but seeing how I curled away from his touch, he dropped it back at his side. "Mikes, I... It's cause I like you."

"You can't have decided that the first time we met," I countered reasonably, crossing my arms.

I felt so foolish, decked out in a dress so full of frills and "girlish charm", as my father put it. My arms were completely bare, and gooseflesh pricked the uncovered flesh as I waited for Daire to respond. He seemed at a loss for words, eyes averted from mine, hand dragging through his lustrous golden locks. His mouth parted, closed. The multi-colored spotlights that swept around the room illuminated his face from time to time, allowing me to see the somewhat anxious beads of sweat beginning to form at his brow.

My arms slowly uncurled and hesitantly dropped, where I clasped my hands loosely in front of my skirt. He wasn't going to answer. He couldn't. There was no special reason for choosing me. He'd just been looking for a single girl who he could woo and be done with in three hours. How could I have thought my curse could be broken so easily...? This was no fairy tail. No gentle kiss would wake the sleeping princess.

I forced my lips to tip up a fraction. Forgetting myself for a moment, I swept into a slight bow, then, recalling the fact that I wasn't an eighteenth-century playboy, I dipped into a curtsey. I wasn't embarrassed, nor was I trying to make him laugh. "Thanks for this," I said, gesturing to encompass all of the dance, where couples still clung to one another, faces soft and tender and so close a kiss could be stolen at any moment. "I haven't had so much fun in... a long time. And I'm happy to know there's at least one boy in school who might not see me as a witch or anything as ridiculous as that. So... grazie." 

I kept up the pleasant smile until I turned and hurried towards the large gym doors near the back of the room. Most were gathered towards the center of the gym for the romantic slow dances that came with the night's end, so there was minimum shoving on my part to reach the exit. No tears welled up in my mismatched eyes; I hadn't expected anything to come of tonight, not really. And if I had, those lovely little girl's fantasies were buried under the composure I'd sculpted and nurtured for years.

The cold of the metal handle seemed soul-suckingly biting as I wrapped my fingers around it. I shivered from head to toe at the contact, but bit my tongue and went to jerk the handle up.

A tanned hand, steamy and warm compared to the reptilian touch of the handle, snaked around my wrist before I could escape with my dignity. They spun me around and trapped me against the door with two hands placed on either side of my head. Daire's luminous clear-blue eyes watched me as my heartbeat went wild with surprise and a light-as-a-feather hope that swelled my chest with warmth.

"Man, you didn't give me a chance to talk! You're a typical shojo manga heroine, ain't ya?" To my stunned pause of breath, he chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, you're a total Japanese-nerd, I know. I saw those volumes of Pandora Hearts poking out of your bag when I walked you home the other day. You hide those things like guys hide porn!"

He was laughing now, but I still remained trapped between his arms. The unsettling feeling of restricted movement had long since passed. Even though this was a scene that, in shojo manga at least, signaled the heroine was in need of rescue by her thoughtful lover, I felt... content. Calm, at ease. 

Warm.

Not just my cheeks, either, as it were.

But my ingidnant, stubborn side didn't want to accept this as confirmation of... certain things. Daire certainly hadn't said anything worth keeping me here. If only he'd open his mouth and--

"You're not one of those girls who believes in love at first sight, are ya?" Daire's question shattered my thoughts as easily as crushing a delicate lace web. He brought his face close to mine, nose-to-nose, that wry grin twisting his lips. "You think a needed a better reason than that to ask you out? Sure, I was just fishing the first time, but the second I saw your eyes.... I was the one getting hooked. You should feel flattered, Mikes; a lot of girls would kill to be in this position."

"I'm... sure they would," I breathed, wrestling so much with my unconscious desire to stare forever into his eyes that all snappy remarks were forgotten. Even with the obvious - and rather obnoxious - self-flattery, that was still something no one had ever said to me before, and the sincerity of the words shone in his bright, energetic gaze. 

He brushed the backs of his fingers across my cheek, fixing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "You know, I think that response is your equivalent of being struck speechless," he chuckled, giving me a closed-eye smile. "I'm glad it's me who made you stumble for once." And he kissed me. Surprisingly gentle, he only grazed my lips with his, but that was enough. 

So Daire had meant what he said. The shojo-clicheness aside, that fact was more than enough to ignite the first lethal spark in my heart.

 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mi~cah~!" 

Before I could escape, Daire's arm snaked around my shoulders and tugged me against his side, stripping me of any semblence of balance so that I was forced to rely on him for support.

Damn. He really knew how to simultaneously piss a girl off and leave her weak in the knees.

"You finally came!" he exclaimed, squeezing me tighter and tighter, until I felt that he'd be cleaning bits of exploded otaku off the walls of his garage if he didn't let up his grip. My protesting squeaks finally seeped into his brain, and he released me with a frustrated (overdramatic) sigh. "Took you long enough," he grumbled, crossing his arms like some forlorn child. 

The other boys gathered with us didn't even attempt to hide their roaring laughter, clutching their stomachs as though they might burst any moment. One, a boy with shaggy brown hair that brushed his chin, wiped a tear from his viridian eyes, offering me an overenthusiastic thumbs-up. "Oh, I gotta love any girl that's turned this guy into a whipped puppy. And you haven't even said two words to the guy yet!"

"I have to agree," the other boy said upon straightening, his hand on the brunette's shoulder to keep him standing. "You're certainly interesting, Micah. I'm Damian. The pretty boy with the eighties rocker style there is Riley." He stuck out his hand, effervescent and polite, and I took it without hesitation. His smile was softer than Daire's, more enigmatic than overbearing. The red hair that framed his gently-curved face was styled with the look of effortless elegance, but what drew me to him were the black-framed glasses perched on his Roman nose, emphasizing the crystal orbs behind the glass. I'd always had a thing for guys in glasses. And I passionately refused to mention it to Daire.

"Nice to meet you, I suppose," I said, smiling as best I could. I felt out of place in the grungy garage, filled with spare auto parts, greasy black stains and band posters hasilty thrown over them. My dress (picked out by Mom in an effort to make me "date-ready") was far too dainty, far too classical, far too pink. And while I didn't feel victimized in any way by Daire's friends (and bandmates), I couldn't help the sensation of wrongness that pricked the back of my neck and clenched my stomach.

 "Oi, what did you mean, pretty boy?" Riley abruptly rounded on Damian, getting what looked to be too close for comfort, raising two very demanding eyebrows. For his part, Damian smirked cooly and cut his eyes to me, head cocked slightly as if to ask, "So the remark about the eighties style doesn't bother you?"

I placed a hand over my mouth to staunch my growing smile. Daire looked from me to Damian and back, the beginnings of a smile creeping over his features. Seems he was pleased I was "getting along" with his bandmates. 

When the petty squabble over Riley's accusation of prettiness had subsided, Damian was the first to pluck his bass from where it rested among an assortment of school non essentials, fingers already tuning weary strings. "Would you like to serenade your date, Daire?" he asked wryly, to which Riley snickered audibly and Daire blanched. "If I may make a suggestion..." He strummed out a few chords of humming notes. Daire's expression further resembled that of bleached sheets. "There's always that song."

"I'm in on this!" Riley whooped and hopped over to his worse-for-wear drum set. He threw back his fur-lined hood, twirled his magically-existent sticks around thin fingers, grinned with all the air of a madman. The novelty of it all was getting to me, seeing how horror-stricken Daire had become. I locked my arms behind me, strolled up to where Daire was preparing to throttle Damian, and leaned against his side, blinking innocently into his suddenly-crimson face.

"Please, Daire?" I batted my eyelashes, holding back a smirk of pure amusement as he visibly stiffened, unaccustomed to having me act to... engaging, I suppose. "You're always telling me how famous you'll all be in a few years. Can't I hear you before the fangirls get a hold of you?"

He tugged consciously at the neck of his sweatshirt, looking none-too-pleased about being pressured into performing (though he didn't deny his future fangirls, either, something I'd remind him of later). And Daire was such a character, always commanding attention no matter the time or place, it was strange to see him rattled enough to balk from expectant eyes.

Finally, with much prodding and poking from Damian and I, Daire agreed. Begrudgingly, he snatched his guitar, threw the strap over his shoulder and, with back to me, tuned his instrument. While he was busy, I scurried over to an abandoned mic stand and righted it, before looking around for the corresponfing microphone. It was burined under a mound of various t-shirts smelling of teenage hopes and dreams (both realized and crushed), betraying just how long it had been since Daire had practiced his vocals. 

Damian, ever my patron saint, paused in his test-strumming to help me fix the mic, as the disuse it had suffered made it far more scratchy than Daire's style of singing allowed, or so I was told. I'd yet to hear Daire sing, apart from the occasional hum he emitted during class when frustrated over a stubborn geometry problem. But as far as hums went, I believed him to be promising, and was not-so-secretly eager for the chance to hear his voice. Riley tossed his stick, inclining it toward an unused crate close to the garage door, which he seemed to be implying was my seat. Not one for standing unnecessarily, I complied, plopping down onto the crate with legs crossed (like the lady Mom portrayed me to be) and smile small and coy.

Daire didn't look at me while he and the others set up. Nervous tension sparked off him every time our eyes came close to meeting, and he would spin around to avoid answering my raised brow. Just what could this song be, I wondered, to make him so frazzled?

The usually chirpy blonde stepped up to the mic, acknowledging my "help" with a shaky smile when prompted by Damian. His eyes refused to settle within a ten-foot radius of me as his fingers arced downwards, making the strings buzz excitedly. I sat forward, suddenly jittery, wondering just what song Daire found so embarrassing. 

(A/N: I do not, in any way shape or form, own any songs played by Daire, Damian and Riley. They belong to their respective owners, and are only used because I have no talent for songwriting)

Riley, sticks clanking with every word, counted back from three and Damian kicked it off with resonating chords from his powerful base. Daire, reluctant and fidgety, joined in after a few moments, shift eyes passing over me as he began the first heft verse: "Every time we lie awake, after every hit we take, every feeling that I get, but I haven't missed you yet~!

I sat, enraptured, as he went on, slowly falling into the vicious cyclone of his own song, head tossing, eyes shining with a slew of foreign emotions, hands a damning blade with every strike of the chords. Some lines made me shift uncomfortably, making me question just how experienced Daire really was in regards to girls, others made me lean forward with zeal, wanting to watch the pronounced grimace transform Daire's presence, or the the way his hair settled with every spirited jump, how he seemed to linger in the air before his sneakers kissed the ground again. 

"I hate everything about you... why do I love you? You hate everything about me.... why do you love me? I hate... You hate... I hate.... You love me! I hate everything about you, why do I love you?

Panting heavily, the boys stopped, and the room grew silent once more. Damian and Riley, after wiping their brows and sharing a triumphant grin, both turned to me, as though expecting a critique. I smiled widely, nodding to show I was thoroughly impressed, and they slapped each other a high-five in cheers. But Daire stared moodily at his feet, giving no indication that he wished to know what was going through my head. I stood anyway and crept in front of me, taking his clammy hand in both of mine.

"Not bad," I congratulated him, grinning slyly. "Almost as good as that Micheal Jackson impersonator that peformed at school last week. Though you utterly fail in terms of fashion sense." I picked playfully at his short-sleeved flanel shirt. "Really, don't you know red leather is all the rage right now? I mean, just look at Riley's pants!" Riley wasn't the least bit ashamed to lift his leg rather provocatively when mentioned, showing that he was, indeed, wearing a pair of ill-fitting red leather pants.

"You..."

I blinked up at Daire, silently inquisitve. He shook his head, swatting away the damp blonde strands that clung annoyingly to his forehead. "I mean, you aren't going to ask who I wrote the song about?"

"Ex-girlfriend?" I guessed, frowning when he went stiff as a board and averted his gaze from mine. I shrugged uncaringly, which threw the poor boy off quite a bit. "Writing comes from the heart," I told him, "and songwriting is no different. The reason you can put as much emotion and passion into that song is because it means something to. And from the lyrics, I don't have to ask you how things ended with her. I only have to accept that things ended. Right?" My lips turned up in a hopeful smile.

"...Right." His arm suddenly whipped out and pinned me against his chest, putting enough pressure on my lower back to threaten my slouched spinal cord. "I couldn't ask for a better girlfriend," he whispered teasingly. "So understanding. Just know, if you ever write a song about an ex of yours, I'm going on a witch hunt for the guy!"

I squirmed from his grip and took up residence beside Damian, who was busy thumbing through an old notebook fool of music decals and scratched out lyrics. He paused long enough to smile at me before resuming his search for some unfinished song or another. But he very nearly dropped the book entirely when I said, bluntly, "Who says it has to be a guy?"

Absolute, deafening silence. 

Then: "Daire... can I steal your girlfriend?"

Daire immediately reacted by throwing the mic still in his hands as Riley, who ducked behind his drums for protection. His laughter, so boisterous and loud, filled the quiet of the garage, urging Damian to join him, then myself, and even Daire after a moment more of scowling menacingly in Riley's direction.

Eventually, when things had calmed down, I slipped my hand into Daire's. "You don't really have to worry about exes coming back in my case," I told him, voice hushed to avoid having Damian and Riley listening in. "You're the first person - guy or girl - I've ever had the misfortune to date."

He pouted, albeit playfully, and said, "Well... that's good. I'm special like that."

"Special indeed," I snickered under my breath. Having not heard me, Daire flashed one more sexy grin before swerving away to repeatedly bash Riley over the head with a book he'd dug up from somewhere in this mess he called his garage. It was something about respecting other people's relationships, but the point was lost on the brunette, as he hadn't meant any real harm in the first place and only enjoyed a flustered Daire's performance. We all did, it was so rare in the first place.

And so I returned to my overturned crate and sat daintily, quietly relishing in my boyfriend's unease. It was always me who acted childishly about our relationship. It was nice to know I meant enough to him to garner such a reaction. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I'd never thought four months could go by so quickly. Half a school year was gone, and it felt like no more than a week had passed since I'd begun dating Daire. For a while, I'd been worried it would end. Daire was treated differently because of me. He wasn't shunned or picked on to the degree I was (because Daire and his charming self could never amass such hatred) but it was obvious there were those who'd rather he ditch his "faux-girlfriend". 

And yet, it didn't seem to bother him. The majority of his friends weren't at school; like Riley and Damian, they were in the next town over, and though it was difficult to meet with them, they were enough that he didn't mind the constant cold shoulders our classmates presented. And he was slowly introducing me to said friends, expanding my pitiful circle bit by bit.

But anyway, today, specifically, was special. A four-month anniversary may seem redundant and unnecessary to some, but to me it was required. I hadn't been aware one needed to celebrate a one-month anniversary, so that had been an epic failure when I was obvlivious to all of Daire's hints. Month two had also been my fault, as I was away with my family on our annual trip to Italy to uncover old-fashioned recipes we'd yet to stumble upon for our catering business. Month three was missed because Daire's band, Nevermore, finally got a gig at a local club and I'd been too worried about being underage to attend. (They'd lied about their ages and gotten busted later that night, then kept in jail overnight, so possibly it was equally both our faults)

So I was determined not to royally screw this day up. Not for heaven nor hell would I let today be ruined. 

School had let out less than an hour ago. I'd told Daire to meet me at my house later for a study date (the only kind my parents approved of at my home) because I had something to do by myself. Though he'd grumbled and complained about leaving him alone, he'd complied and returned home without me.

It wasn't technically a lie, either. I had something to do. It just wasn't only me who was doing it. 

"You're really a girlfriend Daire doesn't deserve," Damian remarked as he followed me away from the box office window. I shrugged noncommittally; Daire had his faults (nacissism being only one of many) but he was sweet. If he was undeserving of me, then the opposite was certainly true as well.

The lamenated cards dangled from a red cord I wound round and round my fingers. I couldn't keep my hands still; one was constantly patting my pocket to make sure I hadn't dropped the duo of tickets I'd just purchased, along with the backstage passes. Well, I'd actually purchased them weeks ago, and only just picked them up today. I hadn't been confident I could keep them hidden from Daire for all that time and asked the venue owner if I could keep the tickets reserved instead. He'd agreed, obviously, and let me retrieve them today, the day before the concert.

It was one of Daire's favorite bands, Linkin Park. I wasn't much into their music, but from what Daire had blasted during our study sessions, I could tell they were talented. Damian and Riley had lent me their iPods (again, because Mom and Dad were not into America's love of all things technological and had only just allowed me a cell phone) so I could catch up on the latest album, and I liked it, in all honesty. Different from my usual taste, but addicting. 

"He's going to die when he meets Chester," Damian added, nudging my shoulder with his elbow (he was even taller than Daire, so this felt only natural). "And he'll probably start making out with you out of gratitude in front of the whole band."

A drop of sweat formed on my forehead. "Yeah... won't that be fun?"I muttered, suddenly dejected. Damian only laughed at my discomfort. 

We walked side by side through Philly's streets, heading back to the SEPTA station to go home, back to our beloved (or my beloved) suburbs. From there, Damian would hitch a ride with a friend back to Springfield. I'd offered to have my mother drive him home, but he'd declined, probably because he'd only met her once and didn't want to feel impossibly awkward for the twenty minute drive.

"Thank you... for coming with me," I mumbled as we miraculously got seats on the train.

"No problem," he grinned.

With so many bodies pressing around us, the air was stifling. There wasn't a moment of quiet. But we were kids who'd grown up around Philadelphia. This was our daily life. 

I myself, though, was pressed to Damian's warm side, and that had me quite uncomfortable. There was no room on the seat to slide away, so we remained in this half-embrace, his arm resting behind my back because the lack of room required me to literally be glued to him. Daire introducing me to closeness hadn't been all the giddy smiles I'd made it out to be. With my lack of experience, even the commonplace hug with Daire reddened my cheeks. With another boy...

Damian and Riley were used to my awkwardness and so chose not to comment on it, even when it turned particularly embarrassing. I loved them as much as Daire did, and considered them two of my closest friends.

The ride wasn't terribly long; my watch read 6:30 as we stepped off the train and began the trek to my house. Fifteen minutes until Daire was scheduled to come to my house. He lived only five minutes away, though. Maybe I can surprise him.... I mused, tapping the backstage passes against my chin in thought.

"Hey," Damian said, drawing my attention to him, "I was wondering... Do you think it would be ok if I came with you to give Daire the tickets?" At my puzzled expression, he went on, "I'm not trying to ruin your moment of glory or anything, I only wanted to see his face. I know it'll be absolutely priceless. I'll hide in the bushes or something; you won't even see me, I promise."

I couldn't deny his enthusiasm, and readily agreed. Besides, perhaps I'd be less nervous with someone else around. 

Daire's house was beautiful. Old, but still perfectly wondeful and enchanting. It was one of the oldest homes in the county, three stories tall, furnished with all-original paint, wood and so forth. Even the wrought-iron gate, framed by thorny red roses, was period-accurate. 

Damian and I walked along the stone pathway, up the porch steps, and stopped in front of the cherry-oak door. I rapped a few times on the wood, rang the delicately chiming doorbell; no one answered. Frowning, I tapped my foot impatiently, peeking through the windows for a glimpse of that golden-blonde hair I'd fallen for. No such luck. He seemed to be out.

Damian tapped me on the shoulder. "I'll go check around back and bring him round if he's over there," he offered, jerking a thumb towards the side path that wound around the house to the back door.

I smiled gratefully. "Sure, that'd be great." And off he went.

I waited, occasionally letting out soft, breathy sigh. Nearly 6:45 now. The walk had taken longer than expected. Maybe he'd already gone to my house... I was prepared to find Damian and go off after Daire when a rustling in the bushes caught my attention. It was on the opposite side of the house that Damian had traveled around. Was he coming back by circling the whole damn house? Wanting to meet him halfway, I jumped off the porch and fought my way through the kempt-but-murderous bushes that plagued Daire's entire garden.

What I stumbled upon made me wish I'd waited for Damian on the porch.

There was Daire, in his perfection, roughly pinning a girl to the side of his house, his lips attacking hers. But oh, this didn't look like some sort of assault; the groans of ecstasy she gave off didn't have that sort of rape charm to them. A mutual affair, it would seem.

I was too stunned to hide, though I needn't have bothered. With eyes for only each other, I could have been screaming at them through a bullhorn and it wouldn't have snapped them from their daze. 

When Daire pulled up for the first time, it was only long enough to suck in gasps of air, and to say, "I've... missed you so much."

Ah. Now I recognized her. Despite her hair being disheveled and her clothes badly wrinkled, she matched the girl in the picture I'd found buried in Daire's drawer perfectly. Hair the color of champagne and just as bubbly and vibrant, eyes so beautifully blue they rivaled that of Daire himself, and skin as soft and supple looking as a fairy tale princess, she was truly gorgeous. Veronica, I thought her name was. The girl who'd broken Daire's heart.

And, inadvertenly, broken mine as well.

"Dammit, Daire!" 

Damian's sharp tongue startled me from my reverie; it also broke apart Daire and Veronica, leaving them gasping for a good breath. Damian, his blue eyes burning with frozen fire, stepped protectively in front of me, his hands clenched so tightly into fists I thought he'd draw blood if he wasn't careful. "You asshole, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" he demanded, practically spitting out the question.

Daire, once more, was at a loss for words. Veronica said nothing as well, only wrapped her arms around herself, as though embarrassed. I doubted it. That red flame tinting her cheeks was from euphoria. I should know; I'd felt just the same as her only a few hours ago. 

"Answer me, dammit!" Damian continued to shout, taking a threatening step forward. "Micah's been right here for God knows how long, and you just went ahead and tongue-wrestled with this girl like she didn't even exist? You just... What the hell?!"

It was a long while before Daire seemed capable of speech. It got to the point where Damian had hooked him by the color, and looked all to ready to smash his perfect face into a bloodied mess, before he spoke, softly, but full of a conviction I didn't bother denying.

"I... still love her. I'm... I'm sorry, Mikes."

"You have to be kidding me!" Damian was not to be placated so easily. "Still in love with the girl who inspired the song "I Hate Everything About You"?! You're an ass, Daire, a complete and utter ass. You've got this amazing girl right here and you just... I could kill you, I'm so pissed off right now--"

"Sorry."

My squeak caught both boys off guard, causing Damian to drop an unprepared Daire to the ground, where he landed on his rear,unable to stand. I smiled, hesitant and unstable, giving no regard to the tracks of molten emotion that trailed down both cheeks. "Sorry," I repeated. "I didn't mean to hold you back or anything. I was just... happy, I suppose, to be with someone I thought liked being with me. But if you'd rather be with someone else, there's no reason to fight for you." I dug into my pocket and took out the tickets. I approached Veronica, who wouldn't meet my eyes even when I tired to see hers. I wanted to see just how deeply her affection for Daire went. When she slipped and grazed her eyes past mine for a sliver of a second, I wasn't disappointed.

So. She loved him too. How nice for them.

"Here." I forced both the tickets and the passes into her unwilling hands. "Take him to see this tomorrow. It can be a celebration for rekindling lost feelings. Oh, and Daire?" He flinched when I turned to face him. "After, I'd very much appreciate it if you never spoke to me again. No talking in the halls, no asking for advice on homework. No apologizing, though I doubt you feel the need to anymore. Simply leave me be. You can announce it at school that we're over if you'd like; it's of no consequence to me whatever you choose. In any case, from this moment onwards, we'll have nothing to do with one another." I gave a stiff little bow. "Thanks for the last four months. I wish I didn't have to regret the happiest time of my life."

And with that, I turned on my heel and strode out of Daire's garden. Damian, after snapping another threat at Daire, hurried after me.

He tried to comfort me, but it did little good.

That night, and for several subsequent nights, I cried more than I had in my entire life. 

So this was another form of torture. Love in itself was far worse than anything my petty schoolmates could have conjured up. 

And what was worse, being human, I could look forward to this heartache again and again, because it was inevtiable my heart would be stolen again, and broken just the same. I had Daire to thank for my introduction into a deeper, darker kind of loneliness and agony, and I would never forget that. 

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro