I hear it before I see it. Perhaps because all I see is pitch black for a good while, so all I can do is rely on my hearing. It sounds like an engine, roaring. It's quite loud in my ears, as if it's the only thing I'm amble to hear.
Then my body jerks, but not naturally, but my means of me being jerked by something bigger. Feeling sinks into my skin, so I soon realise I'm seated and my back is resting against the back rest of the seat. My feet feel cold, and my toes wiggle about freely so I know I'm not wearing shoes. Matter of fact, I can feel a slight breeze of cold itching against the bare skin of my legs, arms, feet and hands. There's some sort of wind coming through from somewhere.
My tongue rubs against my pallet, the roof of my mouth, and a rather sweet taste is left tingling my taste buds. I'm not sure if it's coke or something laced with coke. Or maybe it's chocolate and I'm confusing it with coke, which is odd. I have to gulp when my mouth salivates.
Finally, my eyes open. It's almost dark, very much as thought I didn't open my eyes to begin with, but slowly I can make out things. I make out that I'm in the back of a car, right in between, so before me are the two seats and then the window. I make out that it's night time, and the car is being driven by a driver. It's hazy, but I see that I'm wearing shorts, my pink crop top. My shoes are on the side by my feet, along with my coke bottle, empty but little drops inside prove that I drank it, hence the taste.
My eyes lift back up, and I lean to the side to glance at the rear view mirror to see the driver. She has such a huge smile, laughing as she speaks to the person in the passenger seat. Her honey brown eyes narrow and crease at the sides when she laughs, even though her laughter almost sounds distance despite her being right there. The beauty spot on her nose stands out. The thick short curls on her head is styled to perfection.
Like always.
I feel my heart sweep up in familiarity, but to confirm it, I look at the passenger seat, seeing her as well. A younger version of her. She is laughing too, watching the woman on the driver's seat. She utters words not audible to pick up on, and waves her hand as she does so. Her braids are let loose, resting carelessly but beautifully on her shoulders.
Then, she looks at me. She laughs, turns her head a bit to look at me. She then says; "What do you think?" That much is audible. Familiar. The grin on her face, her voice, her gaze, it's all too familiar.
It all ends quicker than it starts; suddenly everything goes white—
My eyes burst open and the first thing my gaze lands on is the white ceiling above me. It's not clear, considering the light salty water already building within the confinement of my eyes, but with just one blink, I partially see clearly at the cost of the tears streaming down the sides of my face, right before the edges of my bonnet absorb the water.
I realise that I'm gripping onto the blanket covering my body, and that despite my heart beating a bit too loud in the silence of my room, I'm not panting loudly or breathing audibly. Everything is dead still. The only sort of light shining through is the moonlight from the revealed windows.
I must have fallen asleep, I'm sure my windows are still open.
The silence breaks when I sniff. Then, I slowly turn my head towards the window, staring at the moon and it's fullness. It's really bright and the stars seem to be almost invisible. I wonder then, if the moon ever gets lonely sometimes, even despite being accompanied by thousands of not billions of stars. If it has lonely nights like I do.
A dream that feels to real is a dangerous dream. I've become used to having such surreal dreams of that night. Enough to know that I'm dreaming, but perhaps not enough for me to wish they'd stop. Seeing them in my dreams works well for me sometimes, because then I feel somewhat connected to the memory of them, even despite it being four years since I last saw them.
But painful. It either ends peacefully or painfully.
After another moment of staring at the moon, I sniff again, wiping dry my face before tucking myself under the blanket as I fully sleep on my side to watch the moon some more.
"If you're real," I mutter to the moon, suddenly remembering Micah and his beliefs about his goddess and where or what she is now. "If you're real, and you really did become part of the moon or you're the moon or something along those lines... then I consider this creepy. You're watching me sleep."
Before I know it, my heavy eyes slowly blink shut, my body relaxes against my bed, and a small sigh leaves me before I sink right back to slumber.
***
It's quite bitter this morning. Andrea can't fetch me fetch means my father is taking me to school. I think the both of us aren't exactly pleased with it, considering here we are, seated in silence and the radio isn't even on to make this awkward silence less awkward. My head is completely turned to the window, elbow leaning against it so my check can rest against the back of my hand.
I could just reach over and switch on the radio but it's fine. If he wants to be bitter and moody in the silence then I can do the same thing as well.
The ride seems longer than it really is, but the moment we get there, I pick up my bag from my feet before getting out the door.
"Bye." I mutter under my breath before shutting the door and marching towards the campus. I don't turn to see if he has left or anything, but considering I know my father, he's probably still parked where he is, glaring at me and complaining under his breath about how much of a disrespectful, ungrateful child I am, all whilst making sure I make it on campus safe.
He does that all the time, when we're upset with each other.
My feet carry me straight to my first session, which doesn't start for another couple of dragging minutes. I manage to sit at the back considering the lecture room only has three other students — early birds — seated and having a fat conversation.
I swing my bag off of me and place it on the table, before folding my arms over and then resting my head on top. My eyes shut closed; I mean, I might as well catch a few more minutes of sleep than stay up staring at the front of the room.
I could be on my phone too.
Nonetheless, this plan fails almost as quickly as it started, considering not long after, I feel a presence before me. No no, not before me. Behind me.
I first think it's somebody who randomly decided to stop behind me to contemplate either staying next to me, or in the front of the class, but when the hair on my neck doesn't go back down, I become a bit alert and aware that a whole person is still standing behind me.
I slowly lift my head and turn around, looking up at the last person I would have assumed to see today. It's almost like he didn't notice me — maybe even think about the fact that he is randomly standing behind somebody and that in this day and age, we don't accept that anymore — because he lifts his eyes from his phone, lips pressed in a thoughtful, subconscious pout, before they drop to a frown and his eyes narrow.
I don't know if I should greet or tell him to get lost.
"Ban—"
"Don't talk to me." He scoffs as he rolls his eyes. "Do I look like I want to talk to you?"
"I was just going to ask... if you're okay."
He tilts his head and narrows those eyes of his. "Do I look otherwise?"
"It's just a genuine—"
"I don't care, Gertrude. I really don't."
Well then.
I sigh softly, turning back to the front when he immediately shifts away from me and chooses an empty seat far from me. I don't remember him every being in my class, so this is kind of surprising to me. Maybe he dropped a subject of some sort, a course as a whole? That's why we're now in the same class?
I rest my head on my arms, now facing him not too far from me. I can't help but watch him with slightly hooded eyes and a swelling heart. I don't get it.
A part of me misses him. How I first saw him, a beautiful boy with glowing brown skin and the prettiest eyes. Tall, lean. Dreads that made sense for his features. The best smile I could have ever encountered. I remember thinking, I must be so lucky to get the attention of a boy who is wanted daily by many girl. From the way he walks, to the way he talks. But that's all physical.
The personality seemed enticing at first, and then slowly it became dark. He wasn't who he seemed to be, and I learned that at the end. Manipulative, argues a lot, wants things his way. Tends to disrespect people for the sake of him being on a higher pedestal in his eyes. Beautiful on the outside but on the inside?
Poison. Poison that kills slowly, it's almost hard to even detect it.
My eyes blink at the view of him. Even now, he still seems as angelic as the first time. More mature, a bit of a stubble happening on his chin and his dreads are a bit longer. He sits there innocently, almost lost in thought.
So it makes sense that I miss him. I miss the idea of him. I miss how he pretended to care for me in the beginning and would do all these great stuff to lure me deeper into his trap of destruction. And lured, I was. He healed the pain I felt, he filled the void. He made sense. I thought I lost two people close to me and finally, I had somebody to heal that, yet he seemed to ruin that void and make it bigger.
He's very good at words; the sweet nothings that he says are quite good, you'd fall for it within a heartbeat. But the pain that comes after is almost unthinkable.
So, why does a part of me still miss him?
I can't forget the physical pain, the mental assault or the emotional manipulation. I guess it's right what they say — you'll never forget your first time, and I guess they meant that as an all rounder.
***
So, maybe I should invest in having more friends. Having just one friend is kind of problematic for somebody who has partial social anxiety. I feel almost hopeless just walking around as though I have a destination, with a packet of chips in my hand and the look of being lost all over me.
Andrea claimed she wasn't feeling well, and after examining her, I figured the shuffling and stuff in the background during our phone call was probably because she was in search of medication and found none. At least, that's what she told me.
Nonetheless, she said it was best she stayed home for the day just to monitor her health, and I'm at school looking like a loner.
Now, I don't mind being alone. I definitely mind looking alone.
That's all until the very person I should have been thinking about pops in my mind, that I hit a complete 180 and head back to where I presume he would be.
The campus' garden. Where everyone lingers during their lunch hour, which is beneficial as much as it is beautiful during the spring and summer time. I throw away the empty packet of my chips in the dustbin I pass by, sucking clean my fingers before rubbing them on my jeans.
I then stand close to the entrance of the garden, leaning on the far left against the wide framing to allow people past. My eyes greedily scan around the wide area, wondering if maybe he's on the other side. All the while, I remember our conversation, and I remember that according to granny wolf, they have ears to hear better with.
I chuckle at how crazy it sounds. It sounds crazy, and now I believe that crazy.
"Gosh, I can't believe..." I mumble, clearing my throat as my eyes continue scouting the dark haired boy. "Ahm... so you said you're good at hearing. I don't know if it's selective hearing. But considering you have great smell as well, I'm going to presume you can smell me. And since you can smell me, you're probably wondering where I am or what I'm doing. But since I can't see you..." I quieten myself when a group of people walk past me. I don't want to seem like I have problems and I'm a person who speaks to herself loudly.
I am, but I don't want to seem like that.
"Ahm... since you have good sense of sight, and smell and all that, I'm assuming you're probably wondering what I'm saying so... if you can hear me, Micah..." I hum a bit, leaning off the frame. "I'm alone. I'm just wandering if you want to hang out. I kind of don't have your number so I can't exactly call can I?"
I frown a bit, having another round of scouting the area. What if he isn't even at school today? What then?
Then I'd be here, looking like an idiot, and considering people like Natasha also exist, and they are wolves and they also presumably have great sense of hearing, then that means they think I'm an idiot, just speaking boldly to no one and thinking—
Whatever. It's whatever. I should probably ask for his number. Why didn't he ask for mine?
I turn around, holding tightly onto my bag strap with a bitter feeling in my stomach. My legs carry me to the familiar place, except now it's weird that I'm heading there with intention of just... existing. Not for the usual, which is cry for the hour and few pathetic for a while before I head back to class and carry a migraine for the rest of the day.
Now? It's just to kill time.
Give or take a few minutes, I arrive at the back door, and I push the door open, but to my surprise, it hardly bulges. It's locked, basically, which is strange since it's never locked during hours. I huff, pushing it again, then it bulges a bit.
"Gertrude."
I freeze almost, sickened by the butterflies in the pit of my stomach, and my teeth cradle my top lip as I turn around almost too slowly, lifting my eyes up at the hooded blue eyes piecing right into my souls without the slightest bit of hesitation or difficulty.
His hair seems a bit wet; I'm not sure if he perhaps wet his hands and then ran his fingers through the practically black strands, or if he's sweating... or he he just hopped out of the campus sports showers.
I didn't know it's sports season, actually.
And I'm wordlessly staring at him as I lean back against the locked door. The random beauty spot on his cheek. His long butterfly lashes. The loose green polo shirt he has on, and as I lower my eyes, I notice he's wearing black knee shorts. High socks and Adidas on his feel. He looks nice. Comfortable. Fresh. A breath of fresh air, they say.
At least one of us takes the time to look nice for uni. We can't both care less, and it's impossible for us to both look nice, considering I don't exactly have... taste.
I attention is brought back to up his face when he takes initiative by lightly wrapping his hand around my throat, and his thumb pushes my chin up so we go back to gazing into each others eyes. Even more; he lowers his height in a rather mocking way, so his eyelids part more and his dilated pupils watch me. I don't think that intimidates me more than the blue of his eyes.
"Are you not going to greet me?"
Heavens. His voice. Was it always like this? Ringing deeply in my ears and lowered as though he only wants me to hear.
I lick my lips, an action he watches all too closely. "You... I mean, you didn't greet me."
"I called your name."
"You acknowledged my existence." I mumble with a shrug. "You didn't greet."
His lips pull to a grin, and I'm assuming he's trying to hide his amusement because he bites his bottom lip. Man, that simple act has me gulping, I bet he feels it against his palm.
"Hi, mate."
"Hi, Micah."
"How did you know to do that?"
"What?"
"Call me like you did." He mutters, and I feel his hand tighten a bit. "How did you know I'd be listening?"
Oh, okay so it actually worked. It really worked, and he was listening to me. From wherever he was, he was listening.
"Well... because I remember you telling me you have good hearing. And you also— okay, so the one time, I knew you that you were listening to my conversation, which makes sense now that I know that you have good ears. I was telling Andrea that somebody beat up Banele—" he rolls his eyes at the mention of the ex; "I know. But yes. And I said I would smack the person, and I was watching you. You looked at me straight in the eyes. You knew what I was saying and when I saying that, you laughed and looked at me. So I just knew I could do it again, or try and see if it works still. If you were listening. I don't know, I just... yeah."
He smiles a bit, but I see his impressed state mostly on his eyes. "You're smart."
"Oh. You just know how to hit the sweet spot of my ego." I joke, grinning as I wave my hand dismissively. "It's nothing, really."
"It was impressive, really." He answers back before he straight up and leans all the way in and moves his hand so his face hovers over my neck and shoulder. His mere presence there, acknowledgement of the familiar spot, sends complete shivers down my spine that without even having him angle my head, my chin moves away to further expose my neck to him.
Man if he was a vampire or something... wow. Listen to me.
"Would you tell me what's wrong?" He speaks just above a whisper against my ear.
"Hmm?"
"There's something bothering you. What's wrong?"
My eyes, of which I don't remember giving permission to close, open, and then I press my hand gently against his stomach to push him away. I don't want to talk about it. "I'm fine." He moves himself back to glance at me with an eyebrow up. "I'm fine, now. It doesn't even matter—"
"It matters."
He mentioned being able to... detect? Or feel, when I'm bothered. I didn't think he was that serious. I turn my back to him and push against the door again. "I tried opening this door but it's locked, I think."
He then pulls me away from the door, and then steps to it, and with an easy bump of his shoulder against the wood, it pops right open. I stare with a lowered jaw and wide eyes.
Micah simply looks at me and nudges his head.
"You didn't tell me you have the ability to unlock locked doors."
"I don't." He laughs, stepping aside after stepping out and waits for me to get out. "I've got strength. Super strength but not as crazy as it sounds. Well, all wolves do. It wasn't locked, though. Just a bit stuck."
"Wow. I'm really useless as a human being." I mumble, waiting for him as he closes the door lightly before we both head towards the hill.
He takes it upon himself to slip his hand right into my own, intertwining our fingers and helps me up the hill with ease.
As soon as we get to the top, I release his hand and drop my bag on the grass, groaning before I turn to look at him. He folds his arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side.
"What?"
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened, Micah."
He sighs loudly, then takes all the necessary steps until he is right in front of me, then takes my face between his hands, almost squishing my cheeks so my lips picked out like a bloated fish. I frown at it, and he chuckles at me before lifting those ocean eyes.
"You can't lie to me, Gertrude. You just can't. I can hear your heart beating fast, so really, I know when you're lying. Nervous. Scared. Calm. I just listen to your heart. Something is bothering you and when I asked, your heart started pounding so hard and fast. Something is obviously wrong."
"Well, when you question me left and right, of course I'm going to think about it. I don't want to think about it, Micah. So therefore, nothing is wrong. Can't we just leave it to that?"
He pouts a bit, then hums in thought. "Fine. We can leave it to that. For now. But I'd love for us to... be open and honest with each other. Rely on each other, and I mean emotionally along with the other aspects."
"I know, I know. But some things aren't worth discussing and stuff."
"If it bothers you, it's worth not avoiding it like it's nothing. It's something." He blinks at me, eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't reduce it down to nothing. It's not nothing, mate—"
"Okay, Micah." I take a step back, trying by means to move his hands from my face, but it's all in vain.
"I'm serious, Gertrude. I'm so serious." He laughs.
Oh, he laughs, but nothing he says is funny and he knows this well. He laughs perhaps not because it's funny, but because he means all he says. It's the mocking kind of laughing. Maybe the kind where he has to laugh in order for him not to come off intimidating perhaps? I mean, his eyes are hard and dead serious.
"Okay." I mutter. "Okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." I nod. "I just really don't want to talk about it right now. I don't want to think about it, even. At all."
"I can respect that." He sighs softly, then lowers his hand right to my neck, then down the sides of my arms until he basically, boldly, greedily holds onto my waist. His blue eyes narrow at my long sleeve and jeans. "Aren't you hot?"
"I'm lukewarm."
"Also, didn't I tell you to wear clothes that are much easier to access—"
"I remember specifically telling you that I don't dress to impress, nor do I dress to impress you, and I am not easy access— Micah?"
The boy almost doesn't even listen to a word I say; instead, he slips his hands right under my shirt so he is making that physical contact he so desperately desires. I sigh, shaking my head before slowly placing my hands on his shoulders. My feet levitate until I'm on my toes, and then I wrap my arms loosely around him, feeling him do the exact same thing except his hands make direct contact with my own skin.
We both simultaneously sigh, and I giggle a bit at that. Yet again, I feel secure in his arms, and it's such a strange feeling.
His face lingers by my neck, and the tip of his nose glides against my skin slightly. It's ticklish, but nowhere near what I'm wishing to never get used to.
I lick my lips and then clear my throat. "Ahm... do you think..."
"What is it?"
"Can you... make me feel it again? The... that feeling."
He hums, then softly releases a lightly laughter. Meanwhile, I'm squeezing my eyes shut and tightening my hold on him. I'm excited, almost eager to feel it again, to indulge into it again. I mean it's been a minute, so I deserve to feel them as much as he desires his physical contact.
"Try not to get addicted to it." He mutters, and I then feel his lips place pecks against random places on my neck. "I'd rather you not get too lost in the pleasure. It will become like...a drug to you. That's never good."
"Okay." I whisper back. "Can you do it now?"
So, he does. Just as quickly as he places his lips exactly where they should be, I feel my entire body fall into a state of relaxation within seconds. It's like striking electricity, lightning, the way it stretches out right from the place and all around my body. It tingles my jaw, rings in my ears and shoots right down to my toes.
His lips are heaven, that much I can admit with my entire chest. Bless his goddess who gifted him the lips he can proudly walk around with. I don't know if it's just a simple peck in that one spot that sends me waves of dizziness or if it has something to do with us being mates. All I know is that Banele failed to make me feel this good. Just with pecks?
Frikking hell.
It's the way he doesn't just stop by pressing pecks, but he kisses it so passionately, like there's purpose behind all of this, and his teeth (this includes canines because I feel them but it doesn't frighten me — possibly because I'm partially drunk of this pleasure) graze against the skin in such a taunting manner, and that sinful tongue of his would caress it as if apologising for inflicting such a bittersweet pain.
It doesn't even help that his inquisitive hands can't stay still. They glide against the skin of my back as if amplifying everything that I'm feeling.
My eyes pinch shut, knees buckle but that doesn't seem to matter since he's holding me against him. I have to cover my mouth with the back of my closest hand to silence the sudden whimpers I don't realise I'm letting out until I hear him growl against the spot, sending another wave of tingles and utter pleasure within and throughout my entire being.
I wonder if he gets off by simply doing... this. I know there's absolutely no ways I won't become addicted to this.
I pull away, as in almost completely detach his mouth from my neck, I'm surprised to find that the both of us are gasping for air. His lips are red, plumper, and his eyes are now hooded. Almost extremely dilated, one might think he's on drugs right this moment. I greedily but gently raise my hand and move his hair away from his forehead and eyes, before gently tugging them behind his ear.
Then, I move my hand to the nape of his neck, and gently pull his head closer to we're resting our forehead against each other. He simply sucks in air and then lick his lips, before exhaling through his nose.
"T-tha—" I gulp, releasing my own whimper of an exhale before whispering; "Thank you."
He doesn't verbally respond, I'm not sure if he chooses not to or he's also just caught up in the moment that he can't trust his voice at the moment. I can see it in his eyes, he wants to do exactly what I said we'd only do after dates. The way he looks at my lips like he's seconds away from, I guess, going against my wishes. It makes my heart flatter and stomach clench. He simply lifts his head and then presses a peck on my forehead. I think I peed myself.
Wait wait... No I don't think that's pee.