~ Kriss Darcy ~
He didn't want to let go of my hand.
I didn't want to let go of his hand.
He didn't want to leave me.
I didn't want to leave him.
These were facts Megan kept gleefully exclaiming as we stood at the top of the staircase, unwilling to part ways.
After Jase and I had stood in the hallway for a considerable amount of time, doing nothing other than...I'm not sure hugging is the strongest word for it, but the most suitable nonetheless... Mother had eventually stepped out of the billiard room, interrupting the moment. She threw an amused look in our general direction, but otherwise ignored me. Good. Things are back to semi-normal again.
We had then wandered into the foyer - myself intent on going up to my room for some much-needed quiet time, but at that moment, Jamie, who was returning from the bathroom, took one look at me, grabbed my hand, and dragged me into the living room, where herself and Megan were watching... ugh.
Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.
Still, at least there were chips. And chocolate.
Megan had given Jase and I one long, suggestive look, a smirk spreading across her face. I glared back at her, somewhat wishing the icy wall I had built up not long before hadn't shattered into dust at Jase's touch.
I sat through the agonizing, two-hour-long movie, sighing in exasperation whenever something infuriating happened, or whenever one of the characters did something completely stupid - like flying head-first, eye-closed into a freaking asteroid field.
I almost lost it when Ham or what-ever-his-name-is and Leia confessed their love.
"Where the hell did that come from?" I grumbled. "Where's the build-up? Where's the days of wooing and swooning?"
Megan had given me an amused look. "This isn't an eighteenth-century romance novel, Kriss."
Jase chuckled. I dug an elbow into his rib cage.
I practically bolted from the couch when the credits rolled.
"That movie was horrid," I said now, interrupting Megan as she set out to make another teasing remark about Jase and I. "First of all, why did Luke disarm the Abominable Snowman and run out into the freezing deadly temperatures? It would have been much smarter to kill it, then stay in the warmer cave."
"It's called a Wampa," Jase said quietly. I shot him a glare.
"Secondly, why was there so much cringe in any and all romantic aspects? God, I wanted to die."
"Hell, you can be boring," Megan groaned. "I need to find you something good to watch..." she frowned, looking thoughtful, before her eyes lit up. "Or read..."
"I'm not reading a fantasy novel, Megan."
"Oh!" Jamie, who hasn't spoken much - due to the traumatic experience of finding a dead body, I'm sure - suddenly lit up. "Sophie has a bunch of fantasy books! I've read a few - one of them even takes place in the Victorian Era! The Infernal Devices!"
"That's not what I'm talking about," Megan grinned. "I've recently come across a surprisingly good book on that reading platform I use on my phone..."
"I'm not reading anything on that infernal site," I said. "I've tried, and everything on it is so cringe, it hurts."
"But this story isn't!" Megan insisted. "Come, Kriss, it checks all of your boxes! Victorian Era - eighteen-thirty-nine, in fact -, a strong, hilariously sarcastic, witty and cheeky female protagonist, a stingy, hilarious asshole of a love interest... and oh, the comments! The comments on every paragraph just accentuates the experience!"
I sighed, looking her dead in the eyes. "Megan," I said, putting as much force and ice into my words as possible. "No."
That ended the subject right then and there. Megan knew when I wouldn't be budged on a topic. I knew she'd try again later, when I'm in a more agreeable mood. Before she could say anything else, though, I spun around and began stalking off towards my bedroom.
"And where are you going?" came Jase's voice after me. He grabbed my hand, spinning me around until I faced him.
"To bed," I responded, flat-toned.
Megan peered at me from behind Jase. "It's not even nine yet."
Jamie looked startled. "It is? Oh my, it's quite late, isn't it? I must depart for bed," she yawned - a fake yawn. "Dearie me, look at how tired I am. Sleepytime for me and Bunny."
I exchanged a look with Megan. "Jamie? Are you feeling okay?"
Her attitude changed for an instant. "It's been a long day for me, Kriss. I found a dead body floating in the middle of the pond while I was trying to have a relaxing afternoon outside, only that wouldn't have gone as planned anyway, seeing as how I was interrupted by - " she broke off, biting her lip.
Megan was instantly suspicious. "Interrupted by what, Jamie?"
The tiny dancer averted her eyes. "Um... a flabbergast," said quickly. "Yes. A very tall, annoyingly fancy flabbergast. It spied on me, annoyed me into oblivion, then had the audacity to woo me."
Oh my god.
She's talking about -
Jase's lips twitched, and he released my hand. "Did this flabbergast happen to look somewhat similar to me?"
Jamie nodded. "Strangely enough, it did. It was weird. I always thought flabbergasts looked like fluffy, blue, two-eyed Mike Wazowski's, but this one more closely resembled a human," she frowned. "It must have been a shape-shifting demon or something worse than that."
I don't even want to know.
"So, as you might imagine, I'm rather drained after the adventures of today," Jamie began backing up, towards the staircase. "So, goodnight."
She fled, her feet pattering down the steps as she dashed back into the foyer.
"Um... she does know her bedroom's up here, right?" Megan blinked.
"There's no flabbergasts up here, though," Jase responded.
I, too, began retreating back down the hallway, slowly, so it would take them a moment to notice I was gradually moving further away.
No, I'm not at all tired - physically, anyways. Mentally, I'm exhausted, but I do have an urgent appointment I need to get to.
Ash...
It's only been a day since I last saw him - albeit a rather long day - but here I am, craving his presence, wanting to be in the same room as him. Knowing how close he is but being unable to see him can be agonizing. To feel the light touch of his hand... the mesmerizing gaze of his silver eyes... the soft, musical perfection of his voice...
"Kriss?"
I bolted out of my daydream, meeting Jase's eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked, giving me a suspicious look. "You look a bit... flushed."
Of course he chooses now to be perceptive. Then again, Jase always seems to have one eye trained on me.
It was then I realized that Megan was gone. Undoubtedly, she went to go spy on Jamie. A small part of me wanted to know what she was up to, as well, but then I remembered spying on her and Weston last night, and guilt swelled up in me again. I don't like spying, but I always like knowing things.
What a conundrum.
"I'm... fine," I said, still backing towards my door. "I'm just... tired. It's been a... long day," belatedly, I realized I was using the same excuse Jamie had. For the same reason, too, I assumed.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Jase took a few steps towards me as I kept backing up. "If you want, I could - "
"No!"
I didn't even know what he was about to offer, but, without my permission, the word exploded from my mouth. All I knew was I had to be alone now. I had to see Ash. His name kept floating through my mind, pounding through my head like the beat of a drum.
Ash. Ash. Ash.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to focus on Jase. "Um, that is, I think I need to lie down - alone - and have a good night's rest. The masquerade is in two days, after all. Need my beauty sleep!"
I definitely sounded too chipper to be that tired. Or grief-stricken. Normally, when somebody dies, you tend to be more downcast and less... upbeat.
But I didn't care about that right now. The closer I got to my door, the more I felt the urge to turn tail and bolt through said door.
Jase, thankfully, didn't look too suspicious at my choice of tone. "Kriss, it's all right," he closed the distance between us, taking both of my hands into his this time. "I had a nice time today, by the way. Before... everything else."
Briefly, I closed my eyes, reminiscing about the ease and fun between us just a few hours ago. Teasing him endlessly at Taco Bell, watching episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, talking to him about books - and him actually listening, which is more than I can say for most people I talk to. Playing board games for over two hours...
And then the not-so-fun stuff, of him comforting me, murmuring quietly in my ear that everything will be fine, the hug - it was enough to send a barrage of butterflies flying into my stomach, and I looked back up at him, suddenly nervous.
"I... I had a nice time today, too," I whispered.
Then, before I even knew what I was doing, I was leaning forward, towards him. His eyes widened in surprise as slowly, gently, my lips brushed across his cheek. Though I didn't know what place the action came from - was it for friendship? The moment? Something else? - it was enough to send a flurry of sparks shooting up from his skin and across my lips.
Oh my... imagine what a real kiss would do.
My lips lingering on his cheek for a moment longer than necessary, I moved back, biting my lip, smiling softly at him. "Goodnight, Jase," I said, turning the handle on my door and stepping into the room before he could get another word out.
I closed the door, leaning against it, hearing the sound of his footsteps back away in the opposite direction just a few seconds later.
Then, still smiling, the butterflies still taking up residence in my stomach, I turned around...
And was startled by a pair of smoldering, liquid silver eyes.
I blinked excessively, trying to get my bearings, as I met Ash's gaze. He stood less than a foot away from me, completely covered head-to-toe in simple black attire - black jeans, black shoes, and a black long-sleeved shirt. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing black underwear, too. Though the darkness of his clothing only accentuated the pale complexion of his skin, causing him to resemble a ghost, I found myself marveling at the sheer beauty of him.
Until I caught a glimpse of his glower, that is.
I swallowed, thinking about taking a few steps back, but remembered that I was already right in front of the door. Unless I opened said door and fled for my life, there was nowhere for me to go.
"Ash?" I decided the best thing to do right now was to face whatever was bothering him head-on. "What... what's wrong?"
He didn't say anything for a long moment, and there was a pregnant pause. His eyes flashed dangerously.
"Careful, Angel," he said. "Don't pry."
I considered backing down, but I didn't really like his burning glare. I crossed my arms, all too aware of the door pressing up against my back.
"You're the one staring at me like I just murdered your entire family," I said. "I think whatever it is that's on your mind, it concerns me in at least some way."
He stared at me for another long moment.
I shifted under his eyes, growing slightly uncomfortable as unease began racing through me. Unease about him, unease about his unnatural silence, unease about this entire situation I seem to have dived head-first into.
"Platonic," he finally said, his voice - amazingly - matching the emotion in his eyes exactly, the tone both smoldering hot and ice cold at the same time. "That's what you said. I believe your exact words were, our relationship now is strictly platonic."
Oh, for the love of God, not this again.
I sighed, irritation beginning to mingle with my unease. "Haven't we already had this discussion, like, three times now?" I eyed him coolly. "It's getting tired."
"Then there shouldn't be any reason for me to circle back to it, my Angel."
I didn't know what to say. I don't think I had been lying to Ash, exactly. I set out with the intention of being strictly friends with Jase, but things with him have a tendency of... taking unexpected turns. And things have been so flirty and intimate between us lately, it was getting more and more difficult to call him a friend.
"I have a history with Jase," I said, not missing the flash of jealously that swept across his eyes at the mention of his name. "That was bound to catch up to us sooner or later."
"You also kept saying your history happened five years ago," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But, here you are, practically throwing yourself into his arms every chance you get."
Offended, I scoffed. "He's my friend," I gritted my teeth. "Friends comfort one another. Friends hug. I don't get why you don't understand that."
"He's after what's mine," he said, taking a step towards me, beginning to close the distance that suddenly seemed like a gaping canyon between us. Even though it was less than a foot. "I told you I don't like sharing."
I'm not yours, I wanted to say, though with Ash in his current mood, I'm almost certain I wouldn't like the consequence of speaking my mind at the moment. I scrambled for something to say to ease him, but came up blank.
Instead, I took a step forward, bringing a rockslide into the canyon, and wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened with surprise at the sudden contact, then relaxed, his hands moving to encircle my waist. Though Ash hugged me last night, it was overshadowed by my exhilaration of successfully singing on stage - even though Ash was the only audience member.
I couldn't help but compare the differences between hugging Ash and hugging Jase.
Jase hugged me to comfort me. To reassure me. To let me know he's there for me. I felt protected in his arms. Safe. Everything he did for me was for my own benefit. So I wouldn't feel suffocated or forced into anything.
When I hugged Ash, it was so I could comfort him. To reassure him. To let him know the conclusions he's jumped to are absolutely bat-shit crazy - well, maybe not that crazy, but best not to tell him that. He hugged me last night, sure, but I'm pretty sure he was just as excited as I was at the time. Everything I've done for him was for his own benefit. The picnic, the breathless apologies, reassuring him again and again that I wasn't romantically interested in Jase, which may or may not be a complete and utter lie...
He stepped back after a moment, regarding me curiously. He didn't seem quite as agitated as before, but he still was nerve-rackingly upset.
"How was that for throwing myself into your arms?" I said, trying to prove a point.
Silence on his end. His expression didn't change, and he seemed to be waiting for me to continue.
I reached for his hand, grabbing it in mine, gently caressing the back of his knuckles with my thumb. "I sing for you, continuously, night after night, with not a single problem," I stared deep into his silver eyes, the molten liquid of them seeming to cool with my every word. "Yet today, I'm sure you saw, if you were paying attention, which I'm almost certain you were, I couldn't even choke out a single lyric in front of Jase," I gave him a small smile, hoping to dispel the last of the jealousy from him. "That's bound to count for something, right?"
He looked down at our hands, his posture relaxing another inch. He looked at me, all black and silver, and sighed.
"You're right, my Angel," he said, maneuvering his hand so mine was now trapped in his. He brought my hand up to his chest, resting it there. "I apologize for any... unease... I've caused you."
My smile didn't falter. "So, what are we singing tonight?" though, after the day I've had, singing wasn't something I really wanted to do.
Of course, he knew this. "No singing," he said, leading me over to my setup of chairs. "I don't think you're in the right state of mind to sing tonight, Angel, whether it's for me or not," he sat me down in one of the chairs, settling himself in the one next to mine. "I think we need to talk about certain... events that have occurred today."
He already knew about Alie. Of course he already knew. He knows everything that goes on in this manor. I suppose that's one of the perks that come with being a figurative ghost.
"Do you know why?" I said, my mood sobering instantly. "Was there a motive being the killing?"
He hesitated, looking thoughtful. "The Ghost is looking for something," he said finally. "For someone. It's hoping to draw them out. But since most of its methods haven't been working... it's had to resort to more extreme measures."
I frowned. "What - or, rather, - who is it looking for?"
He shook his head. "I don't know the precise answer, my Angel. But from what I've gathered, the Ghost seems to be looking for a way out of its own personal Hell," he gave me a significant look. "An angel, if you may. A connection so strong it will lift them straight into heaven. Much like what I have found," his eyes bore into me then, drilling a hole straight through to my soul. "But the Ghosts' angel keeps slipping away from them. Outside forces conspire to keep them apart."
Wait... I already knew this, didn't I?
A strange possessiveness seeped into his eyes as he looked fixedly at me. "I shall not let the same thing happen to me," he concluded. My stomach did flips as the butterflies graced me with their presence once again.
Something tickled at the back of my mind. "Do you know who the Ghost is yet?"
"I have my... suspicions," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Unfortunately, though, it's a ghost, and hard to corner and demand answers from. If that were the case, I'd know its whole life story by now."
I opened my mouth to ask another question, but he silenced me with a look. "I don't know much, my Angel. If I had more answers, I would give them to you."
"I know," I said hesitantly. "But I was wondering earlier... did you know Alie was dead before Jamie found him? You were playing a funeral march..."
"Purely coincidental," he said. "I was afraid, Kristina, that you were beginning to slip away from me, and simply needed to remind you of my existence."
I raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I'm capable of forgetting you," I said dryly. "You have a way of making your presence known. Especially with your little light shows."
His mouth quirked up into a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He continued looking thoughtful, his eyes flitting around the room, until they eventually rested on the copy of Wuthering Heights that still sat on my bedside table. "It might be time for us to say our goodbyes for the night, my Angel," he said.
I sat up straight. "What? But it's only been a few - "
"You've had a long day," he interrupted. "You said so yourself," standing up, uncoiling himself from the chair, he wandered over to me, pulling me up.
"Can't you at least wait until I'm actually ready to sleep?" I insisted. "Please?" I don't want to be alone any longer than necessary.
He hesitated again, his eyes thoughtful, then nodded, crossing his arms. Silently sending a barrage of thanks in his general direction, I wandered over to my dresser, grabbed a pair of pajamas, and retreated into the bathroom, hurriedly stripping off my clothes and throwing the baggy sweats on. It's not like I had anything better to wear.
He was still standing in the exact same spot when I returned. His gaze slid over me as I made my way back over to him. When I stopped he reached out, tentatively, and ran his fingers through the strands of my hair, which I had quickly brushed through.
"You are beautiful, Angel," he murmured. "Absolutely beautiful."
My heart did a gymnastics routine in my chest.
I tore my eyes away from him, focusing on Wuthering Heights, sitting on my bedside table next to the white rose Jase had given me - somebody had put it in a vase. One of the maids, I supposed. I knew better than to suspect Ash. He probably wants to burn it.
Ash followed my gaze. "You really love that book, don't you?" he asked.
"I read it most nights before bed," I admitted. "I can't sleep well unless I read. It fills my head with words, stories I can focus on so I don't think about things that keep me awake."
He nodded thoughtfully. "That's brilliant," he said. "Are there any other books you read to make yourself tired?"
I shrugged, but was secretly gleeful that he seemed genuinely interested in hearing about my books. "Sometimes I read Shakespeare, but it gives me a headache. I have to translate every line. I'll read Jane Eyre, too - it's another favorite - or anything by Jane Austen. When I was little, Mother used to read to me from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It's still one of my absolute favorites, despite my relationship with Mother being... strained," which is entirely my fault. "Father used to read to me too, though not as often. He'd normally read the original stories of musicals, like Les Misérables, The Phantom of the Opera, or Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats," I sobered. "I don't read those much, anymore. It's too painful."
He took my hand in his, pressing his thumb into my palm. I drew strength from the contact.
"Anyways, I remember how soothing their voices used to be. They put me right to sleep. I loved their reading voices," I could remember the deep tenor of Father's voice as he read from Phantom, his exasperation at Raoul clear with every word he spoke. I remember Mother's confusion every time she read from Wonderland as she tried to make sense of the book. She never did.
"Reading voices?"
I smiled at him. "It's what somebody sounds like when they're reading," I explained. "Some people are soothing, some are aggressive, some are monotone, some passionate."
"Is your reading voice passionate?" he was actually paying attention to my every word. That's more than most people. They usually drift off into their own Happyland or whatever the moment the word book passes through my lips.
My smile turned into a grin. "Yeah... I guess you can tell by the way I talk about books, huh?" I regarded him curiously. "What's your reading voice?"
He looked startled. "I... I don't know? I don't exactly find reading that enjoyable, Angel. I certainly don't read out loud."
I tugged on his hand, drawing him towards the bed. "I'm curious now. I want to find out."
He gave me an exasperated look. "Angel..." he sighed, drawing a hand tenderly over my cheek. "Fine," he said, stepping past me to grab the book from my bedside table. He eyed me expectantly. "Are you coming?" without another word, he settled himself onto my bed, his back resting against the headboard.
Suddenly nervous, I followed after him, keeping a few inches of space between us.
He eyed the distance like it was the greatest inconvenience in the world. "Now, this won't do," he said. Without another word, he reached over, sliding me over so my shoulder rested against his. "That's better," he said, grinning at me.
Grinning. My heart will turn into an Olympic gymnast at this rate.
He turned to the book, his arm still around me. I didn't think he had any intention of moving it away. In fact, he seemed quite... comfortable.
Strangely enough, so was I.
"Which part shall I read?" he asked, flipping idly through the well-read pages.
"Chapter nine," I replied instantly. "Page eighty-eight."
He turned to the page, and, without any more prompting, launched into the story.
"He entered, vociferating oaths dreadful to hear; and caught me in the act of stowing his son away in the kitchen cupboard."
His reading voice was, in fact, and quite surprisingly, soothing, calming, and passionate all at the same time. After a few paragraphs, I found myself as mesmerized by his voice now as I was when he sang. I relaxed against him a few pages in, resting my head against his shoulder. He stiffened with surprise, halting his words, and stared at me.
"Don't mind me," I said sweetly, exhaustion beginning to catch up with me. "Please continue."
He did as I said, his voice expertly unfolding the story before us, his tone automatically fitting the narration as perfectly as Nelly's did - the story's actual narrator. My eyes began drooping shut just as he reached my favorite part in the story - Catherine's declaration of love for Heathcliff, even though she said it to Nelly, not the man in question.
"What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it."
Soon, much too soon, I fell asleep against Ash's shoulder, his arm wrapped around me, as he halted in his reading for just a moment to press a light kiss against my forehead, lines from Wuthering Heights dancing through my head.
I lingered round them, under the benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
Awwww...
So... next chapter is when things start unravelling. It took us a bit to get here, but these things require quite a bit of set-up... especially for the sub-plots I shall start putting into play.
How hard are we shipping Krash right now?
How many of us absolutely hate Ash and want the Ghost to target him next?
How many of you think Kriss should have taken the open-door-and-bolt option?
Oh, and how many of you have ever read Wuthering Heights, so you knew exactly what the hell was going on at the end of this chapter?
I've only recently read Wuthering Heights... in fact, I only read it because I made it be Kriss's favorite book, and I wanted to see why she loved it so much... I had no idea what the hell was going on.
Also, fun fact: the classic novels Kriss loves so much? The ones she basically swoons over? Yeah... um... I haven't read most of them.
I've only ever read Romeo & Juliet, Lord of the Flies, and To Kill a Mockingbird - for school. For pleasure, I've only every read Wuthering Heights... though Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, Jane Eyre and Oliver Twist are on my To-Be-Read shelf... as well as a volume filled with all of Jane Austen's works, so I plan to read more classic novels eventually.
Don't forget to vote and comment!
Love you all!
~ Evie