After breakfast, and taking a thirty-minute shower, Edgar goes straight to planning out our escape. We have chewed over the possible, severe consequences that might materialize, but resolved that it's worth the shot. Edgar really hasn't got a problem; he can leave any time he wants. Well, he would've done it ages ago. But I can't quite put a finger on why he would risk his time for mine. But then again, I guess I would've done the same to someone I'm really close with. And I can't stop thinking of how he had been set up. As a result, I can't help but be angry with the people who made him land himself here. What were they thinking?
Nevertheless, he is Edgar the Calm Ocean. Not Edgar the Commotion; that would be me.
Edgar and I agree to set out our escape plan in the middle of the night. He says the elves will be happy to lend a hand. He also adds that they were the ones who had been suggesting him to break out from the beginning, that he didn't deserve the place, since they know his background story. But because of their friendliness, he resolved to dwell in.
"You're odd, you know that, right?" I say to him once we are standing in the dark tunnel that leads to the kitchen.
"So I've heard," he says, leading the way.
"Where is this escape tunnel you've been talking about?"
"Kitchen,"
"Of course," I huff. "Through the back doors, am I right?"
Edgar gives me a pained look. "Witty,"
"I'm developing,"
"Well, good,"
He reaches the same entrance that I am now familiar with. We heave the big rock, so light streams in through the hole that leads to the kitchen. At that instant, the familiar cries of joy greet us, as if the elves have been anticipating our arrival. Edgar hops out, and I follow suit. Elves come dashing at us and carrying food, like they always do. I find my favourite; Nafel. So far, she's the smallest here, and has a really high-pitched voice. She clings around my legs as I straighten up. I can't help but break into a wide grin as I look down at her. She has this really large, green eyes and really large bat-like ears, so when she looks up at you, you have this urge to squeeze her.
Edgar is kneeling down to talk to them, and he looks serious now that the elves have quietened down. "When are you not busy?" he asks them.
He gets a lot of answers, but he chooses two in the morning, which is perfect. The elves look a little gloomy now, knowing that Edgar is leaving them tonight. Well, I can only hope we're successful. If not, they can throw a party or something. Soon enough, when we are done deliberating, they start packing us food and I can't help but feel really appreciative of the things they have been doing to us. Even Edgar looks like he's holding back tears, and I think he's being quite dramatic thhere. It's not as if we will really break out from here. But I can't be too sure.
One of the elves volunteer to wait for us outside when we're ready to leave, check if the course really is clear. Honestly, I really don't want to find out what we'll be faced with once we've broken out. But Edgar looks calm as always. He is humming to himself once we are back in the tunnel, heading towards our cell, and I think I should be doing the same. Well, not the humming part. Really, I've been so anxious from this morning, just thinking of breaking out, thinking of Kayla. I didn't even finish my breakfast. I couldn't think properly. And I leave these all to Edgar, who thinks he knows what he's doing. I hope he knows more than what he's doing.
Breathe, Raine. And I breathe.
We haven't even reached the narrow part of the tunnel when there comes a loud bang from the outside. I whirl around, afraid that we have been busted. But there is only Edgar, who looks just as confused. Bang! It goes again, and I step closer to Edgar. BANG! We're silent, not daring to breathe as we strain our ears for more. Soon, we hear a bloodcurdling roar, followed by a floor-quaking, louder bang, that causes Edgar to push me against the wall.
"What the hell is that?" I hiss at him, already frantic.
He merely looks up at the ceiling as the bang and the roaring go on. Then he says, "It's probably the dragons."
"Dragons?" I panic.
"They keep dragons here," he says a matter-of-factly, still looking up. "They're probably training them. They did the same thing last year. It was noisy as hell."
"Oh," I say, calming down a bit, despite the still bloodcurdling roars. I've never seen a dragon, that's why.
His eyes meet mine and a smirk forms on his lips. "Why, are you scared?"
"Since you haven't informed me anything about these nutters keeping dragons, then of course I'm scared!"
BANG!
I'm aware of the debris that starts to fall off the ceiling as the bang goes on, followed now by heavy thumps. But I'm also aware of how close Edgar is, or how he still has one hand rested against the side of my chest from pushing me earlier. From this, I become aware of how fast my heart is beating. From what, I haven't had the faintest idea.
"You sound more scared than angry," he says.
"I'm developing,"
Of course I don't feel anger. The longer his green eyes linger on mine, the calmer I get. He is really close now that our noses are almost touching. We are plunged into solid darkness as his eyes flicker closed, and I feel his lips pushed up against mine. They're moist and cool, and I am aware of every detail of his features as he moves his lips on mine, feeling me, kissing me.
Edgar is kissing me.
I shove against his chest, but not all the way. The tunnel glows again as he opens his eyes. I'm waiting for the anger to bubble up to the surface, for me to make an outburst. I want to feel the rage, so I am not going to be confused by this ... this whole thing, which is really new to me. Instead, I find none. I don't feel any fire. I don't feel my pulse throbbing. I'm still staring into his glowing, green eyes. How the hell does he do that? Of all emotions that relate to anger, I can only feel serenity.
If Edgar is pretending to look like hasn't been offended, then he's a bad actor. "Sorry," he whispers.
He closes his eyes, so we are once again plunged into darkness. I still have my hands on his chest from shoving him earlier, but not quite so that he'll tumble backwards. Rather, I'm merely putting a small distance, like I want to know what this is. I can feel his heart beating erratically against his chest, and I let my palm stay there, not knowing whether to shove him further or pull him closer. Because I don't want to get lost. All I feel is this bewilderment circling around my head, this curiosity, this confusion.
"Where's your face?" I ask him softly, not wanting him to get intimidated if I make a sharp remark. But again, I feel none of those, even though his eyes are closed.
Edgar opens his eyes, those glowing green orbs penetrating mine. And I feel so safe again, despite the on-going roars outside.
I remove one of my hands from his chest and slide it around the back of his neck. I pull him closer, uncertain of my own actions. Then I think, Oh, what the hell, and push my lips against his. And I stay there, feeling the same cool, moist lips against mine. Edgar responds quite immediately by stepping closer to me, so now his whole body is pinning me against the wall. His lips move against mine as he tilts his head to the side, looking for the perfect access. I can feel his warm palms holding my face up so he can kiss me better, and I let myself melt against his touch. I brush my fingers into his hair, just feeling him.
My face follows his when he pulls away to rest his forehead against mine later after that. It hasn't been intense, but I know I must look downright pathetic. "Let's go back, shall we?"
We spend the afternoon in the cell, not doing much rather than talk about the plan. When lunch hour arrives, Edgar suggests that we go down to the refectory with everyone else. I don't hesitate, as I don't think I can bear being in the same room with him without wanting to feel him again. I feel pathetic just by thinking about it. It is as if I am really dependent on him.
There is no other choice but to sit with two old witches at the back of the refectory, who are chewing lazily on a turkey leg. Edgar and I sit across from them. They don't do much than to spare us a glance before returning to their food. So we eat in silence. Over the time, though, I become aware of Edgar's leg that is resting against mine. I know I'm starting to tense up, but I ignore it. It's just his leg. Besides, he always rests his legs against mine whenever we eat here. What I don't realize until now is the fact that I have been craving for his attention since I got here. He is the first person, ever, to really know about me. He is the first person that I'm comfortable with when it comes to sharing my stories. He's kind. He's not a crook like everyone else around here. He's just the right boy at the wrong place.
Okay, I know for a fact that he's into the males. But I'm not taking advantage on any of it. Besides, I didn't know I can get comfortable with males up until a few hours ago back in the tunnel. Or maybe it's just him, as I have no attraction whatsoever towards people with the same gender. But maybe that's what I've been missing this whole time. The thing that always makes me feel detached from everyone else ... let me just say that it's my anger that has been separating me from all emotions. And I guess Edgar is just magical to step over the line.
Once we're back in the cell, I lay down on my mattress while Edgar sits with his back against the wall. This continues for hours and hours without any interaction exchanged between us. I guess we're both too occupied in our minds about our little breaking out plan, or maybe something else. There's no clock here, so I can't tell when we're supposed to be ready. But I know I should be preparing (prepare how, I honestly don't know) once Edgar says he's going down in the kitchen to get us some food.
He's back fifteen minutes later carrying packed foods and drinks and some old, travelling cloaks. So I know we're setting out quite soon. "How are the elves?" I ask him as he sits across from me.
"Devastated," he replies, tossing a bread in my direction.
"They love you,"
"I'm lovable,"
I let my eyes linger at him longer than I normally do. Lovable. That stupid term echoes in my head. And I feel like an elf, because if I haven't felt it then, only now do I know how I feel towards him. It's so bizarre that I don't break eye contact when Edgar looks up to find that I've been staring at him for a really long while. Because I haven't noticed how his dirty blonde hair matches his pale skin. I haven't noticed how green his eyes really are even when we're not in the dark. I haven't noticed how really good-looking he is, despite spending his time in jail for more than a year.
"Are you a warlock or something?" I ask him.
He laughs. "My dad is. Not me," he explains.
"Your eyes ..."
"They glow in the dark, yeah,"
I just nod, not questioning anything further. He's too mysterious. After a minute or two, I ask; "Why did you do it?"
He can't deflect this. He knows what I'm referring to. "I've always wanted to do it," he shrugs, as if he's talking about the weather, returning his eyes to the uneaten food.
I am taken aback by that answer.
"I mean, you know, from knowing you and all that," he proceeds, still not looking at me. "I guess I'm just drawn to you."
"Why? I'm pathetic and always so angry," I frown, but I can't help feel the little spark inside me (oh, shut up).
"You can say that, Raine,"
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I ask him. "Or made a move?"
"Afraid you might snap and ... I don't want that," he says. "I care about you."
Again, with the spark.
I let everything sink in before saying, "Can we try that again?"
Edgar's eyes finally meet mine. He knows what I'm talking about, what I'm suggesting, because he slowly scoots closer to mine and places a palm at the side of my throat. He brings my face closer and captures my lips with his familiar, cool and moist. I snake one hand around his neck and into his hair, entangling my fingers there. Our lips move in sync, and a shudder runs down my spine as I feel his tongue brush across the bottom of my lip. I open my mouth, and he slips his tongue inside. My body goes weak, and my mind has gone hazy. Soon, Edgar is pushing against my chest, so I'm lying on the mattress while he crawls on top of me, not breaking the kiss. He kisses along my jaw and I press my lips together, afraid I might let out an involuntary and awkward sound or whatever. His lips then return to mine, where I respond at an instant.
He pulls away to breathe and stares down at me. I gaze into his green orbs - which might just be the mistake. "Oh, God, Ed," I say, before desperately pulling his head down again for another kiss.
One of his hands trails under my shirt, causing me to shiver. I become aware of the fact that he is straddling me. This turns into a fifteen-minute, heated make-out session, before Edgar crawls off me and lies next to me. We lay there, trying to even out our breaths. I snuggle closer to him, feeling really small, and he wraps his arms around me before nuzzling his face into my neck. We stay like this for a really long time. Every now and then, he will trail soft kisses down my neck and I will tell him to stop, that we should get some rest before setting out at two in the morning.
I guess we're both too attached, now that we know how we feel towards each other, without really pointing it out. Because, yes, I'm also drawn into him. Yes, I like kissing him. Yes, he makes me feel safe. He makes me feel all these things I've never felt before. Later, when I tell him; "You're always so nice."
All he does is remove his face from my neck to look at me. "You're cuter when you're nice."
And I must be really red in the face, because I didn't know he can be that cheesy. "Shut up and put your face back on my neck, you half-warlock."
He lets out a small chuckle. Instead of falling back next to me and nuzzling his face in my neck like I'd told him to, he brings his face around mine to kiss me fully on the lips. I don't hesitate to respond.
We could do with filling the time before two o'clock strikes, right?