Pencils & Polaroids

15: labyrinth's koala bear

In the seam of all the things brushing across my body, I feel my wrist being grabbed and I'm pulled to the other side of the maze with my back against a tall cold mirror. I'm panicking because tossing and throwing people around inside the haunted house was precluded from the discussion table. I could sue Jayden Banks and Sadie Harper (primarily because they fought the entire committee to get credits). 

My gouging eyes register the touch and the swirls of coffee-brown eyes that are examining me with a serious frown in the dim light. It's not a zombie, it's not a vampire, it's not a ghost, it's worse. Standing in front of me was Rainer Barcross dressed like no monster but totally belonging to their clan. 

This is perhaps the first time in the history of our encounters that I have felt instant relief at the sight of him. My hands that are placed over his chest to push him away slowly cease to apply force. Instead of shoving him back, my fingers curl over his black turtleneck shirt, grabbing a fistful of the fabric as if letting go will make me fall back into the chaos. 

He scans the intensity of my hold on his shirt before he studies my loud breathing and tired face. "Claustrophobic?" His eyes shuffle between mine. 

Faintly, I shake my head. "I d-don't like haunted houses." 

His frown melts away the second his eyes sharpen. I sense him sigh as his shoulders drop. His lashes cover his hooded and angry-looking eyes in a slow roll. I see all his features turning hard--his jaw, his pursed lips, his cheekbones, and his attacking gaze when his eyelids open. 

"Then why the fuck did you get in? What point were you trying to prove? That nothing ever affects or scares Park Mellon?" The bottom of his eyes scrunches as he speaks in a low tone. 

I inhale a loud shaky breath. "You did the roller coaster in spite of fearing speed. I thought this wouldn't be so hard--"

He opens his mouth angrily but he holds back all his words by instantly clenching it shut. He removes his hand from my wrist and brushes his hair as he looks around. "Should everything be a competition between us? Just because I did something, you don't have to do it too, Mellon. You're shaking--you're having a fucking panic attack. Do you not realize how badly this is affecting you?" 

This might have been a very bad idea, but I cannot agree with him so I stay mute. 

I feel something on my back and I instantly shiver. At this point, I cannot differentiate between my paranoia and reality. I feel movement near my ankle which makes me crash into his chest with my eyes shut close. I grab more fabric from his shirt with both my hands to stop shaking and breathing so raspily. 

"R-Rainer, get me out of here." I squirm when I feel things moving everywhere on my body with howling sounds of wolves and footsteps echoing in my ear. 

I feel his hands gently touch both my arms. I shiver at first but then I get accustomed to the touch. "Hey, it's okay. I'm right here. We'll get out of here, don't stress. First, I need you to stop panicking. Come on, deep breaths. Focus on your breathing." 

His hands start to move up and down on my arms, slowly spreading warmth when he squeezes my elbows and then my shoulders. His hands are about to wrap around my back when it hits me that if he does that, we'll technically be hugging. 

"Don't," I mutter against his neck, and both his hands freeze. "Don't touch me." 

He groans with his head raising to eye the ceiling. "Really? After what you're doing, you seriously have the audacity to tell me not to touch you?" He refers to my hold of his shirt. 

"I don't want us to hug." My words make him scoff. "It's not a hug if only one person does it." 

"Sure, by definition, that's called clinging. You're clinging to me, Park. Is this not making you uncomfortable?" He whispers.