Alexandra’s Point of View

Strangely enough, nothing had really changed—except for the newly acquired feeling of absolute ambivalence that transpired whenever I happened to glance his way, whenever I passed him in the corridor, whenever someone mentioned his name… whenever I thought of him for the most ephemeral of moments. It was hard—really hard—to come to terms with the fact that someone whom I regarded as my life’s constant thought differently of me. Even though I knew every chance of reconciliation had been harshly severed between us, I couldn’t help but wish for some sort of miracle, one that would bring me out of this perpetual hatred, one that would inspire courage in me to just meet his eyes…

I missed staring into his eyes.

I missed listening to him, talking to him, scheming against my brothers with him…

I missed it all.

But I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t bring myself to confess my greatest secret. I had always thought of my obstinacy as a blessing, something that would allow me to stand firm in the face of any antagonism, anything that would threaten me to sway from my beliefs, my values. Now, I saw it as a curse, one that I couldn’t cast off, one that kept me bound to my pride.

Pride: it was such a hindrance to me. I hated it, and yet, at the same time, I clung to it blindly—it was my only line of defense against vulnerability. It was my reason for acting glacially around those I felt most defenseless against, especially him—only him. It was a façade I cowered behind, a shield that kept me untouched from my fears, a skin I wore to appear strong, unshakable, supremely nonchalant. But behind the concealment lay who I really was: a timid girl, weakened by the weight of her fears, scared of the world, too afraid to part with her indomitable masquerade.

There were only a few weeks, a mere number of days before he was due to depart. I still had a chance to mend our broken threads, and I wanted to. Sometimes, I would wake up and forget about our rift, and arrive at school only to remember—and then to regret. Time was gnawing away at my mind, and every second that passed seemed to jeer at me for being so shy, so unforgivably hesitant. There were times when I would walk up behind him, feel the words on the surface of my lips and raise my hand to tap his shoulder—but I never made the leap across. Whenever I happened to meet his gaze, whenever we were forced to speak to one another, the overbearing reality of the situation always stung me. There was a frosty, detached sound in his voice that I had never heard before; a cavalier look on his face that I wished wasn’t there.

Of course, he and my brothers remained good friends, despite the fact that they had, at times, threatened to pummel him if he kept acting so offhand towards me, but they never did. Just like how I never spoke to him, despite promising myself countless times that I would.

He left on Thursday morning. He didn’t see me there, peering from behind one of the columns, watching him hand his boarding pass over to a gate attendant, passing through. He never saw me through the glass separating us, silently calling for him to come back. He never saw me there, crying.

Although I didn’t realize it then, part of me left that day, abandoning me to follow him, across the skies and seas, safe in his hands.

But I know now.

I know now.

The sound of my knuckles on wood jolted my mind back to the present day, remains of my memories clinging to the sides. It took me a moment to remember why I was standing in the bitter cold in my formal dress without shoes on—and after the fleeting moment of poor memory, I buckled as my mind cleared.

Oh… no.

What was I thinking, running here barefoot, without a jacket, without any escape plans?

I am in no mental condition to be doing this. I don’t even think my brain is properly hinged inside my cranium at this moment, so how am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to even speak when my vocal chords refuse to obey me? And even if they weren’t being mutinous, am I just supposed to just waltz into his room with a falsely cheery smile plastered to my sickly ashen face and say: “Oh, hello Damien. Yes. Nice weather. Um. Listen, I’m sorry for being such a cow to you for the past five years. You see, it wasn’t really my fault, I was only acting cruel and callous because—um. Well, assuming that what you told Ethan was true, let’s just say that your feelings aren’t exactly unrequited. Um. Yes. Ha, ha. Funny, isn’t it? Right. Okay then. Heh.”

I don’t bloody think so.

Man, I really have to stop cussing. I never cussed that much before, but then again, I didn’t have much to cuss about. Crap, what do I do? What do I do? What do I—

Oh Lord, the door just swung open.

And now he’s staring at me as if I had just done something really, really stupid.

“Uh…” I stammered, staring at my feet. Great start, Alex. Now you can add a few more words to that brilliant beginning of a sentence. “I…”

But at that moment, I made a fatal mistake: I glanced upwards and met his eyes—and then the world could have shattered and I wouldn’t have noticed. Needless to say, the rest of my sentence withered and died on the tip of my now useless tongue. The circumstances just love me to bits. But I still hate them very, very much.

He stared at me, disgruntled, a frown creasing his brow. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I… ”

Then he exhaled brusquely and stepped to the side of the doorway.

“It’s really cold out. Get inside.”

My feet obeyed instantaneously. My mind was still floating somewhere in the mental stratosphere.

His room was spacious but untidy—books were strewn all across the carpeted floor, rolls of wrapping paper were carelessly stacked to one side, his bed was unmade and his closet was still open. Pens were scattered across his desk alongside paperclips; textbooks and essays amassed together rather precariously. His laptop hadn’t been turned off; half a dozen chat boxes were blinking from the screen. Acting as though he was blissfully ignorant of the fact that his room looked like my brothers had lived in it for a month, Damien threw his jacket onto the bed and then loosened his tie, flinging that away as well.

He rubbed his neck, turning around to face me. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, folding his arms.

“I’m... I’m…” I stammered, racking my brain for an answer. “I’m here to…uh… well, it’s kind of complicated…”

Yes, because uttering a few syllables is really that complicated for someone who attends a school for certified geniuses. If Principal Turner ever finds out about this, he will expel me. Here I am, a distinguished public speaker, stuttering and stammering, at a completeloss for words. It’s unheard of. I really don’t believe it. Have I gone bloody stupid? What the hell is wrong with my damn larynx? What the hell is wrong with my damn brain?

Honestly. They’re just a few words. It’s not as if my life is going to change after I say them. Besides, I promised myself I would tell him, so I will. But I can’t—oh what the hell.

“I’m really sorry.”

He didn’t reply immediately, but his silence was deafening—was he waiting for me to continue?

Respond, cow-git, respond.

Oh fine.

“I’ve got some stuff I want to say,” I began, fighting against the ambivalence storming up inside of me, “so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt me.”

He still gave me no response.

Damn him.

“Why are you being so quiet?” I suddenly snapped. “I really don’t like it when you just stare, you know. It’s really creepy.”

Damien glanced away, snorting as he did so. “I thought you said I wasn’t supposed to interrupt,” he replied icily.

“You never listened to me before,” I mumbled, scratching behind my ear agitatedly.

“I told you,” he snapped impatiently. “You don’t know me that well anymore.”

“Well I might not know you that well anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get to know who you are now,” I shot at him, feeling thoroughly upset. “I’m trying to apologize for being such a cow to you, and you’re not making it any easier.”

Damien snorted, staring down at me scornfully. “It’s not supposed to be easy.”

I faltered.

Well, thanks for making me feel like utter scum, you spineless cow.

I swallowed uncomfortably. “Look, I really am sorry, and I came here because I thought… I thought I could make things right. I know I’ve messed up badly, and I wish I could undo all the stuff that went wrong, but unfortunately, I wasn’t born omnipotent, so I’m sorry for that too.”

He didn’t even crack a smile.

Fine—it had been a pretty lame joke.

I really suck at being funny.

“Damien,” I said, voice strangled, “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have tried to make your life miserable, and I know I shouldn’t have made you waste all that postage on those apology notes you kept sending me. I really wanted to hate you.” I paused, exhaling quietly. “And even though I may have acted like I detested you more than I hated people wasting food, I didn’t really, because I realized, just when you decided to ignore me, I realized that I… well, to be honest, I realized a couple of things. Like… like how, uh…”

He raised his eyebrows at me, clearly unimpressed with my extraordinarily eloquent answer.

I can’t imagine why.

“Well, um, yeah. Yeah… that. I realized that… um…”

I exhaled, heart pounding erratically in my chest.

This was it.

Feeling as if the entire world had stopped moving around me, I took a deep breath and forced the words from my lips. Even though most of me was protesting witlessly against my decision, I pushed myself past their disapproval and uttered the secret that I finally found the courage to confess.

“… that I really liked you.”

A small tear fell onto my cheek and slowly crawled its way down to my chin, where it hung for a second before falling, landing an inch from my feet. This simple task was becoming more difficult than I could have ever imagined; I desperately wanted to cave in to the protests, to not tell him anymore. I took another breath, compelling myself to finish what I had struggled to begin.

Oh, and the fact that I felt like a pile of vile scum did not help in the slightest either.

“I kept telling myself that I was an idiot for choosing you, for trusting you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I guess I’m still an idiot.”

My eyes blinked open, and I turned to face the door; it was clear he didn’t want me there.

“Anyway,” I called softly over my shoulder, “I’m sorry for disturbing you. Right. Sorry. Um—oh, and merry Christmas.”

I saw the door in front of me, towering over me, imposing.

Trembling fingers reached for the doorknob.

Tell me to stop. Tell me to come back. Say something. Say anything.

I watched my wrist twist to the right, fingers grasping the brass handle tightly.

My hand slowly pulled the door open.

Tell me you don’t want me to go. Tell me I’m forgiven.

I stepped outside, mind drowning in the myriad of emotions that was slowly suffocating me, eyes aching against the urge to cry. Every second that passed seemed like a lifetime, elongating every thread of self-loathing that now swam through my mind. I felt myself crumbling from within, no longer conscious of my thoughts or feelings, existing only to exist; a broken soul inside a broken shell. Hope had diminished from a flame into an ember, and optimism had already begun slipping from my fingers.

And then something heavy fell onto my shoulders.

The sudden addition in weight knocked my thoughts into disarray, disorientating me.

“What is wrong with you?” a voice chided from behind me. “It’s freezing outside. Wear a coat next time, idiot.”

It was a coat.

He had given me a coat.

A really heavy one.

“And you’re barefoot again,” he muttered exasperatedly. “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s like you want to freeze yourself to death or something. Idiot.”

Slowly, my feet turned to face him, and then, little by little, I found the courage to meet his gaze.

Brilliant hazel.

Damn it all—why did he always have to make me feel like scum? Not even scum—more like the scum’s crap, which is substantially worse. I mean, I do that to myself most of the time anyway, so it isn’t as if I need help in that particular department. Why does he have to act so bloody kind to me after I’ve been so wretched? Well, technically, I did just offer him a pretty good apology (complete with sniffles) so maybe… did he feel obligated to return some gesture of compassion in return?

And how the hell did I forget to put on shoes—again?

What the hell is wrong with my brain?

I swallowed, feeling my fingers twitch involuntarily in the cold. “I didn’t really—I didn’t really notice how cold it was when I ran here,” I mumbled quietly.

Damien snorted. “How intelligent of you.”

Then, through no accord of my own, something inside me flared.

A split second later, I realized that this something was none other than my affably gracious temper.

Exceptional timing, really.

“Oh shut up,” I snapped vehemently. “You would too if you were in my position. I ran over here to apologize and… well, wish you a Merry Christmas and everything…” I trailed off, biting my lip. “But now I know I shouldn’t have said all that stuff, seeing as it only helped to fuel your fat ego. You’re as spineless as you were before, you miserable weed.”

I was glaring at him, but he—he was grinning.

Scum-faced piece of turd. What on earth is wrong with him?

Unexpectedly, out of instinct, I suppose, his gaze turned skywards. Curious, I followed and found myself staring at…

Mistletoe.

“Damn,” Damien swore, looking thoroughly peeved. “I told them not to hang that that stuff there. Last time they did, I was forced to fulfill tradition with about five girls, who all heard that I had mistletoe above my stupid door.”

I didn’t even have time to grimace before simultaneous shouts erupted from behind me.

“What are you waiting for, moron? KISS HER!”

My knees nearly buckled.

What the hell were my brothers doing here? I turned around and felt my stomach drop. Flying crap—why were they all here?

“KISS HER, KISS HER, KISS HER!” My brothers began chanting. Ming, Rosemary, Luke, Natasha and Fiona clapped their hands, laughing.

Luke stepped towards us. “Dude, if you don’t kiss her, I lose twenty bucks, so just do it.”

Fiona hopped towards us too, grinning. “It’s the perfect time. C’mon Damien, just kiss her!”

All the while, my two brothers and their dates had started skipping around in a circle, all of them chanting “KISS HER, KISS HER, KISS HER, KISS HER!”

I sighed. “I really don’t think it’s—“

“Oh Alex,” Natasha interrupted, throwing me a disapproving glare. “Two people standing underneath mistletoe are bound by the laws of tradition to smooch. Just shut up and kiss him.”

I have to say, I was considering the thought of surrendering to their war-cry chants, but then I felt my entire conscious reality explode with surprise when Damien tilted my chin upwards and leant down to—well…

Kiss me.

And it was the nicest feeling in the entire world—better than the monumental feeling of triumph of acing all of my exams at, better than the victorious sensation I get when I insult someone and they stand there stuttering, better than winning my Taekwondo tournaments, and even better than the grim satisfaction I felt when punching Emily in the face.

Better than all of those things put together.

Better than anything—everything—ever.

I felt his hand brush my cheek softly, the other one resting on the small of my back, and if I could defy gravity, I probably would have right then. I even forgot about being near-frozen, which is understandable, seeing as how warm and strong his lips were—oh damn, I can’t believe I even thought that. But even that thought flew clean out of my head when he proceeded to kiss me harder.

Until, that is, I felt myself being wrenched backwards.

“Get off of her, you sick freak,” Gabe muttered, having pulled me back. “We said kiss her, not suck her face in.”

My face turned a nice shade of puce. Damien laughed. Isaiah, Rosemary and Ming were still swept up in their war-cries to notice anything.

“Well uh, I’m going to head back to the Ball,” Luke said, linking arms with Natasha. “I’m still hungry.”

Gabe nodded. “Me too. Let’s go,” he said, trooping down the corridor and then running backwards, smiling apologetically at Ming, who was staring at him with raised eyebrows. “Sorry. Nearly forgot.”

Ming laughed, slapping him lightly on the arm. “I’ll forgive you if you carry me back,” she declared, sticking her nose in the air. “My feet really hurt.”

Without even blinking twice, Gabe had her swept up into his arms. “Anything for you,” he murmured, smiling as Ming flushed scarlet. “Now let’s go. I haven’t eaten enough yet.”

The others followed him, opting not to charge down the hallway with their date in their arms like Gabe did, waving back at us—and then snorting with laughter after Isaiah yelled, “Let’s leave the face-suckers alone, shall we?”

I decided not to chase after him and beat his head into his ribcage for that final remark.

Suffice to say, I am a changed person, for I am now in complete control over my temper.

“So,” Damien called airily from behind me. “What were you saying about still being an idiot?”

I whirled around, glaring at him fiercely. “You must’ve heard wrong,” I bit curtly, tilting my chin upwards haughtily. “You’re the crap-faced scum-brained idiot.”

Okay… so maybe not.

Damien smiled, stepping towards me. “Well then,” he murmured quietly. “We can both be crap-faced scum-brained idiots.”

Heck no.

“No, you can be the crap-faced scum-brained idiot,” I retorted defiantly.

Damien ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he laughed. “Okay,” he agreed, nodding. “I’ll be the crap-faced scum-brained idiot, but only—“

He paused momentarily, taking up my hands in his as he met my bewildered eyes, because honestly—who’d agree to that? 

“—only if you’ll be with me.”

I stared at him—I mean, I really stared at him, with the whole ‘wide-eyed, surprised look’ package—as his words sank into my conscious mind.

Of course, I was going to say something equally as poignant, but, as with all the other times I’ve been caught off guard, I opened my mouth only to stammer and stutter, losing all sense of coherence within my words—which, needless to say, I really didn’t plan on happening.

“You know, I liked you a lot better when you could speak properly,” he thought aloud.

To which I clenched my hand into a fist and rammed it straight into his arm. Sadly, it did more harm to my knuckles than it did to him. Clearly, there is no justice in this world—not when it comes to pain distribution.

“Well, I liked you a lot better when you weren’t being such a self-absorbed moron,” I muttered, rubbing my hand, wincing.

“Your feet are turning blue,” he pointed out suddenly. “Come on, get inside.”

So I did, for the second time.

He made me wait outside as he went into the bathroom, turning on the water faucets of the bath tub full blast, and then calling me inside. Strangely, his bathroom was immaculately clean—there wasn’t a single hair or piece of dirt on the white-washed tiles; the sink was spotless and dry, and every bottle of face cleanser and shaving cream was lined up in a neat row; the bathtub, I guessed, had been recently cleaned because it smelt of the cleaning detergent that they used in my room. It even smelt nicer in there. Heck, it was even decorated nicely in there.

“Why is your bathroom nicer than your bedroom?” I asked him, glancing at the various paintings and potted plastic plants and adorned the room.

Damien shrugged. “My bedroom’s normally not that messy,” he replied, shutting off the water flow. His sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, and he stared at me expectantly.

“What?”

He sighed exasperatedly and then gestured towards the tub of steamy water. “You can be really dense sometimes,” he muttered. “The water’s for your feet.”

I smiled sheepishly as I stepped over, dipping my frozen feet into the water—and damn, it felt good. Instant warmth spread upwards through my toes into my feet, through to my entire body, and I smiled to myself, wiggling my toes gleefully. I used to love doing this as a child. What can I say? Old habits die hard. Or something like that.

“Sit down at the side,” Damien advised. “You’re going to get tired.”

“I might fall. I can’t balance well,” I said, moving my feet from side to side so that the water swirled around them.

“Just sit down,” he responded. “I’ll hold you.”

I don’t know what came over me—it might’ve been the fact that he had gone to prepare a warm bath for my feet, which was supremely thoughtful of him, or the fact that he had been so kind, or the fact that I really, really did like him—because the next thing I know, I’m sitting down at the side of the bathtub, still wiggling my toes underneath the water, with his hands around my shoulders, supporting me.

Say it with me: what the hell?

I mean, I just gave in. Without a protest. Without an insult.Without saying anything.

Goodness. I must really be falling for him.

“Damien,” I said, abruptly feeling tremendously shy. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Really,” I pressed. “Thanks… for taking care of me.”

I heard him do one of his funny exhalation laughs. “It’s nothing,” he replied softly. “Are your feet okay now?”

I bit my lip, nodding, and then turned around to get out—and slipped. Damn stupid recently-cleaned bathtub. He gave a small grunt as I landed not-so-gracefully onto him, clambering onto my feet, face red with utmost embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, still mortified. “Are you okay? I didn’t—I mean, oh man. I’m sorry.”

Damien rubbed his shoulder blade tenderly; my elbow had somehow managed to come down rather forcefully upon it. “You really do weigh a metric ton,” he muttered, grimacing. On impulse, my hand sailed through the air and whacked his arm. Realizing what I had done, my eyes widened with disbelief and I started apologizing profusely all over again.

“I’m fine,” he said after I had apologized over fifty times. “Seriously, Alex, shut up.”

I smiled guiltily. “Sorry.”

Damien groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Heh. Whoops. Sorry about that. As in, sorry for saying sorry just then. And then sorry for saying that again. Sorry,” I mumbled, cheeks flaming. Then, I brightened. “Thanks for breaking my fall, though.”

Damien grunted, rubbing his shoulder. “Don’t mention it.”

I bit my lip thoughtfully. “So, do you want to head back to the Ball now or what?” I asked.

“Without our dates?” Damien teased. “I mean, I’m fine, since I was going with Fiona as a friend, and she was part of the plan anyway, but—”

Wait.

Wait.

Plan?

 “What plan?” I cut in, eyes narrowing shrewdly.

Damien laughed, eyes twinkling. “Come on, Alex, think,” he urged. “Natasha helped me place my present to you with all the other ones. Gabe and Isaiah made me go with Fiona to make you jealous. They made you go with Richard to make me jealous. And then I pretended to be angry with you so that you’d come and find me.”

My eyes would have probably bulged out of their sockets had it not been for the optic nerves holding them in. I think it’s safe to say that it would have been freakishly gross if they just fell out of my head. 

“What?” I yelled.

He shrugged impassively. “I know it was a little risky, because you could’ve just stayed at the Ball, but Gabe and Isaiah said you were pretty much predictable, so we all went with their idea. They thought you’d come find me tomorrow, after opening up my present, so they weren’t expecting you to do anything tonight but wallow in your own self-guilt, but—“

“You mean you weren’t really angry with me downstairs?” I cried incredulously.

“Well, I kind of was,” Damien answered truthfully. “But most of it was just my brilliant acting.”

My eyes blazed. “How could you do that? How could you lie to me?”

Ew—way too hackneyed line. But still.

Damien frowned. “I never said anything about lying,” he replied calmly. “Most of it was true, only exaggerated.”

Shoulders slumped, I sighed. “Great. Just great.”

Damien pretended to frown thoughtfully. “It is, isn’t it?”

Then, on impulse, I punched him.

And then the whole cycle of unsolicited apologies revived itself again.

Whoops.

A/N: DUDES! Abrupt ending. I might change it. But yeah. Everything’s soporific and happyhappyjoyjoy…But not for long! I’m gonna make the next chapter super mondo gruesome. w00t! and then I’ll write, The End. Because that’s the best ending I can think of at the mo… HAHAHA just kidding. Thanks for all the reviews, thanks for reading! I’m ultra busy (I KNOW it’s summer… my life is quite sad.) with exams (I know… it’s like, WHAT exams?!) but yeah. So I’m gonna go on a one week hiatus. Like, I’ll still check the site and read stuff (SO ALL YOU PEOPLE BETTER GET THOSE CHAPTERS UPPP) but I won’t post anything. Moohahaha.

Okay dudes, I promised a Damien chapter, so I shall write one—probably for the next. The next is definitely the last chapter, and then I’ll have an epilogue and then it’s “WOOT” my second piece done. Ladidah… and to Airith, no I haven’t seen the Omen. Hee. My friend told me it was extra scary and I’m a chicken. Self explanatory. :P

I know my ANs are freakishly long. Okay, I’ll stop now. THANKS AGAIN FOR EVEREEEEETHANNNGGGG!! I think I drank too much juice or something. I’m usually more sober. Dudes. PEACE OUT!!

OH, and if you wanna read something really funny, really sweet in places, really awesome and really action-packed, and sci-fi (sorta), go check out the Transcending a Dynasty trilogy by JadeWing. It’s like… mondo brilliant. It’s REALLY well written. Free advertising, dude! w00t. :D hahaha.  Hope ya don’t mind.

AND FINAL THING! For the weird, reminiscing part at the start, the THING THAT LEFT HER WAS HER HEART! Dude. I really have to stop writing so sappily. Hahaha. Anyway, just wanted to clear that up in case some of you were like “what the… her brain?!” so yeah. THANKS AGAIN!! YAY FOR THE OLYMPICS TOO!! :P