AN: Mikah’s up and ready to actually talk. He doesn’t talk a lot, I can tell you that much. Argh. Poor guy. He doesn’t have a clue about what he’s doing… and no stability frightens him… Slash talk ahead… almost a different style to Aric’s tale of woe, especially since Mikah actually does his schoolwork… except when he’s being plagued by emotional troubles… oh well. Still no part of No Regrets, also a side story to a completely different, as-yet-unposted plot… I have about four more of these to go, and if enough interest is shown, then I might start posting the main story as well… which is weird, since it was originally supposed to be an online comic . oh well. Guess I got to busy, ne? ;;; let me know what you think

I don’t know him. I have absolutely no idea, and while I can't honestly say I want to know him, I also can't truthfully say that I don’t.

I don’t know much of anything anymore. I’ve never been exactly stable with my feelings, and it takes an extraordinary amount of time before I can even begin to define what those feelings are. I know I feel them, I’m just… doubtful about exactly what they are…

I’m not sure if I should be freaked out by the way he treats me, or flattered because he’s the only one I’ve ever known to consider me in that light… He confuses me.

I don’t know who he is, and it’s driving me insane. It’s almost scary, sort of like having a stalker, but that’s illogical, because who would want to stalk me? I’m not interesting enough at all; I have no specific talents or skills to make me useful… What does he want from me?

He leaves notes for me, you know; friendly almost-love-letters, that look harmless enough, nearly always slipped into one of my schoolbooks. They are always typed, never written by hand. He watches me as well, I can feel eyes on me during the day, but when I turn around, there’s no one there…

It’s wrong. Sinful. The way he makes me feel…

The reactions I inevitably have when I see a loose sheet of paper in one of my textbooks, the pure physical evidence that I am happy to receive them… The normal symptoms, you know; a pounding heart, instant heat as your blood surges straight up into your face, your breath catching in your throat… And the utter, almost unbelievable disappointment to find out that it’s only school notes you didn’t have time to pack away before the bell…

The fact that he can induce me to such a state merely by giving or not giving me a silly little note… It’s both shameful and embarrassing.

And yet… The hardest thing to realize… Is that I wouldn’t stop it for the world.

It’s harder to accept because, by all rights, he shouldn’t be able to do that to me; no one should. It’s an ultimate sign of weakness, as my father says. And while I highly doubt I’m about to become a part of a fight where such feelings could be fatal, I agree with him. That alone is a scary fact.

There is a thought, that I’m too scared to put into words, that these reactions could be the results of… maybe a… of what could be called a deeper affection.

That too, scares me… My father is a good one for quoting idealistic theories of men, and I can pick and choose from vast amounts for a situation like this. ‘It is unmanly to show your fear.’

Well, Dad, it’s probably considered unmanly to fall in… for another man.

I think that’s what's beginning to happen. How do I know it’s a ‘him’? Well, for one thing, there are no girls in this boarding school – one of the main reasons my father chose this school, probably. After all, no girls, no pregnancies, right? I think he’s kind of disappointed for my lack of interest in girls, but I’ve always been… I digress. The second reason I know he’s a guy is because he told me so. In his first letter, he stated it as a fact.

I’ve still got it, you know. I still have all of them. The one thing I can be grateful about is that I haven’t gone all obsessive yet and bought a file to keep them protected and ready for long use…

No, I’m not planning to. I don’t want to.

I think I’m going to end up doing it anyway.

He’s weakening my defenses. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, when it comes to him. The atmosphere feels tense with anticipation, although I’m probably just imagining it. Strange, isn’t it, how easily a few friendly love letters affect me. I never would have though myself the type to attract the kind of people who write love letters.

Never in my wildest dreams.

And as mortified as I am to admit it, there’s a part of me that feels excited at the prospect. Something that longs for his open attention, that yearns to know if what he promises is true. I never would have thought myself a romantic. I know I’m not… totally averse to the concept, but to think I’m getting lovesick for some fool that I’ve never even met!

It would be funny if it weren’t so… so… confusing.

I don’t understand it, and there’s something inside people that tells them to run from what they don’t comprehend, to flee until they reach the safety of knowing exactly where they stand…

I don’t. Know where I stand, I mean. I’ve tried running, but how do you run from something that you don’t know? Especially when it insists on following you?

How do you outrun a storm?

I wish I knew… I truly do.

I just don’t know what to do anymore. I can't talk to anybody about this because who would understand? Most of my new friends love adventure, they’d see it like that. Especially my roommate. He’s strange like that…

I just wish I knew who he was, damnit! It’s extremely frustrating, to say the least. I don’t know who he is, I don’t know why he affects me the way he does, and I don’t know why he wants to!

Why should he want to? What’s so special about me that he’d go to such lengths to be friendly and yet remain a stranger?

I’m so confused… I know I want to know him, see if he’s like he says… But I’m too scared to. It’s not very good for the ego, or your mental state when you’re so scared of something you want so badly…

I always thought it would be so easy, you know. My father would approve of some girl I happened to meet, we’d supposedly fall in love, have 2.5 kids, with a dog, a cat and a house with a white picket fence. Yes, my father is that obsessed with being normal.

I didn’t know it would be so hard… I know what I want. Or at least, I think I do. I’m almost sure of it, when I’m not being too scared to think about it. The question is, how to convince everyone else that it’s what I need? How do I convince myself? It wasn't supposed to be this way… It wasn't supposed to be this hard, and it definitely wasn't supposed to be another guy. It’s wicked to think the thoughts I think about him sometimes. I’m not supposed to wonder about him… like… in that way… I shouldn’t wonder what it’d be like to feel him… Uh…

I’m sure you get the idea…

I don’t know who he is. I don’t know how to even begin to start finding out his identity. I have no guarantee that he’ll continue to feel for me like he claims to do if I do find him out.

And always, always, there is my father, lurking in the background, looming like a threatening presence that I know him to be. You might think it possible to ignore him, to worry merely about the foremost problem, but I can tell you – my father is not easily ignored. What he wants, he gets; what he says goes. It makes no difference to him that it might destroy all hopes of happiness that I think I might find. Dad just doesn’t care.

And if he chooses to reveal himself to me? What would I do then? Would I go to him like a besotted sheep? Or should I put up a bit of resistance, if only to prove to myself that I am not as… as… infatuated as I think I might be? What would happen if I did either of these anyway? Could he like a sheep that does everything he tells it to? Or would he prefer a more manly man (Thanks Dad) and hope I put up a struggle?

I don’t know. I just don’t know. I don’t have any experience in relationships like that, and have no hope of finding any help in this situation…

What am I going to do?

I got another letter this afternoon. He says he enjoys writing to me, knowing that I read his letters. He says he likes the flush I get after doing so. He says he could start adoring me. He says he wants to meet me, but is too scared to. He thinks I’m not ready for it. He wants to keep up the illusion for a while longer. He wants to be absolutely positive of my feelings before he identifies himself. He says he doesn’t want to hurt me.

He says he loves me.

He says… He loves me.

Me. Inexperienced, awkward, shy… what does he see? What did I do to deserve something like this, something so mystifying, so frustrating, so depressing… Something so fulfilling, so cherished, so needed? I wish I knew…

I looked around after reading his letter. I could still feel him watching me, but, as usual, there was no one there. I don’t know how he manages it. How does he succeed in bewildering me so much? He either knows all the right issues to bring up, which feelings to expose so I’d have to work them out or be torn apart by what I feel.

If only I understood. Knew what to do. How to feel, how to react, anything! I’m desperate by now. All I want to do is know him, and yet it’s all I can do to stop myself fleeing in the face of finding out what has to be the most important news of my life. I’ve never felt like this before, I just don’t know what to do!!

He’s pulling me apart by the seams. I’m sure he knows this, he must have a plan for it all somewhere… Otherwise… I don’t know what would happen otherwise. But I can guess. I hope I figure out what to do soon. Because if I don’t, I think…

He says he… loves me.

The storm has arrived. It’s raining now, water shimmering on the window in the light of my desk. Crashes are sounding frequently outside, and every so often there's a flash of light that isn’t tamed. It remains wild and free, and dangerous enough to kill someone. I hope no one’s out there. The school grounds have a lot of trees, and it isn’t safe to be out there anymore.

I wonder how safe I am here, in my own private storm. Lightning threatens to strike me with every passing second I’m torn apart about what to do. His letters are scattered in front of me; idle phrases and statements that I’ve long since memorized jumping out at me. I don’t know what to do.

He says he loves me.

How do I outrun the storm?

I think…

It’s too late…

I don’t think I’m going to be able to run after all…

What am I going to do now?