Hold on to me, darling.
And let me be your anchor.
.\.|./.
Crystal Monroe
|in which she plays truth or dare|
When this man said 'somewhere only we exist', the first thing that came to my mind was somewhere romantic and recluse.
Definitely not a grocery store.
I stand back while the cashier scans all the items Ryan kept stacking in the shopping cart that he also insisted to push -- despite my retorts. He looks completely at ease, though I do see him shifting on his bad leg. The only thing that makes him look creepy is the scar running across his eyebrow and disappearing under his bangs.
Not that it makes him look any less handsome, as every single girl in the store seems to notice.
The fact that he has so many girls literally drooling over his looks is pretty annoying, mostly because they seem to be shooting me venomous glares I don't fully understand.
"Let's go, beautiful," he says to me, too loud for my liking.
I scowl at his pretty face as he grabs the ginormous bags of whatever the hell he's bought and begins to walk towards the rotating double-doors. I reach out to take one of the bags from him, which he shakes off as nothing, awakening my inner feminist.
"I'm not the one with broken bones, you know," I snap, folding my arms when he stops next to his bike.
He ignores my retort, frowning at the bike instead. He probably didn't consider how we would be taking all the shit he got back to his house. The bags are nearly as big as I am, and I'm nowhere near small.
"Maybe we can rent a cab," I suggest.
Instead of agreeing with my brilliant idea, he simply smiles.
"Doubt me not, m'lady." He tips an imaginary hat. "I have it all under control."
And with that, he places the shopping bags against the speed-bike-of-death he owns, and walks back towards the store. I stand by and stare, not knowing how the man can be so damn cheerful all the time.
With Jeremy, things were always hard. Not always-always, but after-our-first-year-always. The Jeremy with hopes and dreams was cocky and bright, but the Jeremy who lost his big race and college scholarship, felt humiliated in front of the entire school because he slipped and fell two feet from the finish line, and lost his chance of a lifetime, was never the same. He was dark, brooding, and cold, and -- somehow -- I was to blame.
At first, I questioned it. How was it my fault he tripped? How was anything my fault at all? Jeremy, though, always found a way to blame me for whatever went wrong, glaring daggers and bringing me down. I thought it would pass, the unjustified anger, and that he was only looking for someone to share his burden. I provided my shoulders and lost myself to his hate. Hate I didn't deserve. Hate no one deserved.
"Problem solved!"
The upbeat sound behind me makes me turn around and look at Ryan, the guy pushing a shopping cart towards me.
"Did you steal that?" I ask him without thinking, as he begins to stack the groceries in the cart and chain it to the back of the bike.
"No. I bought it."
I stare, wondering why I'm even surprised anymore. If the man was crazy with half his body broken, it seems as no surprise about the level of insanity he has excelled to now.
"You can close your mouth now, love," he says, flashing me a smile as he jumps onto the bike and holds the helmet out for me.
"Are you actually serious?" I ask, glancing once at the pseudo compartment he has made and tied to his bike, and then back at him. "We're going to be driving with that thing tied behind us like that?"
Ryan smiles, looking like he's about to laugh.
"What's so funny?" I snap.
Ryan straightens his expression. "You seem more like yourself when you're annoyed."
I blink. "I'm always myself," I counter.
"Yeah." He nods. "But your natural version is so much better than the version you show the world."
Unable to understand how this man can say the most blunt things with such a balanced expression, I simply stare at him. My stare transforms into a scowl, and I snatch the helmet from his hands and put it on.
"Fine. If we die, it's on you." I jump on the bike behind him, nearly falling over like last time. He doesn't even blink, sitting still so that I take hold of his jacket on either side.
"Don't you worry now," Ryan says, hitting the gas so that the bike whirrs to life. "I won't let you fall."
The dragon we're riding roars when Ryan swerves it out of the parking lot, and I automatically glance behind me to see the cart jumping around in our wake.
What an out-of-the-box solution.
As Ryan drives full speed through the city traffic, zooming between cars and through alleys. The clouds seem to chase us, hanging thick and low, but Ryan is not one to lose from the grey monsters, fighting the battle till the end. We make it to our houses just as the sky begins to roar, angry that Ryan has defeated it in his race against nature.
I'm almost afraid the cart would have gotten lost halfway through our run, but am surprised to see it intact. Ryan smiles, proud of his idea having worked this well. It did work pretty well.
"Well, are you unlocking your door or do I have to find a way around that too?" he asks, unloading the metal cart and carrying the bags in his arms.
I frown in confusion, but he tilts his head towards my house.
"Aren't those yours?" I remind him, wondering if he lost his mind on the way somewhere.
"Yeah, but you're the one who cooks for me so you should keep them," he says. "I picked out all my favorite things, so you'll have no trouble figuring out what to make."
I'm still lost for words when Ryan shifts all the bags into one arm, reaching out his free hand towards me. I see him shifting on his bad leg and don't want to keep him standing here with this weight, so I give him my keys. My mind is already deciding how I'm going to talk Ryan out of this now.
He unlocks my door and stands aside, letting me take the lead into the dark house. Switching on the lights on my way, I lead Ryan into the kitchen, where he places everything on my shelves. Once he's done, he turns to scan the surroundings.
"Nice place," is his comment.
I roll my eyes, knowing what a liar he is. My house is an utter mess, awaiting dozens of repairs and a white-wash. It's been a while since I had any maintenance done, mostly because Jeremy never stays long enough to notice what our house looks like.
If he even considers it his house anymore.
"So, what are you cooking tonight?" Ryan asks, interrupting my thoughts.
"What would you like to eat?" I ask, still overwhelmed by the thoughts of Jeremy.
Ryan's eyes flicker lower, but I don't notice what part of me he glances at before his gaze returns to mine.
"Anything you make is fine by me," he finally says.
I fold my arms across my chest, standing in the kitchen doorway as he leans back against my shelves and smiles at me.
"Are you always this weird?" I ask him.
"Nope. Just with you," is his answer.
A flash of lightning is followed by the echoing roar of thunder. Either by a force of nature or by the fault in man-made technology, the lightbulb on the ceiling begins to flicker. I look up at it, then back at Ryan's whose face is suddenly pale as he stares unblinkingly at the light.
As if to make his wildest nightmare come true, it only takes one more flash of light to snub out all those inside, plunging us in thick darkness.
I'm about to speak when I feel someone brush past me. Ryan is already on the go, passing me by without a word as he rushes out of the kitchen, through the living room, and out into the rain that begins to pour. I follow him, navigating through the furniture and making it out just in time to see the first drops of rain fall.
"It's going to rain," I point out.
Ryan looks back at me, a haunted expression on his face. "I'd rather be in the rain than in the dark," he mumbles, his voice drowned out by the roaring sky.
I walk towards him, stopping next to him and looking up at him.
"Do you want to get sick?" I ask him, wondering if he might just be a masochist.
"Do you want to kiss me?" he asks instead.
No matter how many times he does it, his strangeness never fails to disappoint me.
"Can you not be serious for one minute, Ryan?" I demand, curling my hands into fists.
The smile on Ryan's face is playful, his dark hair sticking to his face due to the rain.
"Life is not a joke."
Ryan turns around to stare me straight in my eyes, his grey-eyed gaze penetrating as he pushes his hair back to reveal his hauntingly beautiful face.
"Is that what you believe or what your boyfriend has taught you?"
It always surprises me how quickly Ryan transforms from being the lively, playful guy to a man who can see into my soul. Maybe this is what makes him special. But to me, it only makes him more obnoxious.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand.
Ryan hesitates. "Is this what he fed into your head? What he brainwashed you into believing? That everything you think ..." He takes a step towards me. "... that everything you do ..." He comes even closer. "... is all wrong because he says so."
I don't blink, not even when Ryan stops a mere foot from me, staring into my eyes with his hypnotizing grey ones. Everything about this man screams perfection, and yet I feel like that is only the surface. That is what he wants me to see, what he wants anyone to see.
"What makes you think he would do that?" I ask.
"Rule number one of abuse, Crystal," Ryan states. "Break the victim down from within. Break them down so that they won't even feel like the victim. They will think that the abuse is well-deserved."
"Victim?" I repeat. "You think I'm a victim?"
"Of abuse, yes," is Ryan's simple answer. His face is serious but calm, a strange combination.
I let out a loud laugh, which is drowned out by the roaring thunder. The rain pours harder now, soaking me to the skin and making my hair stick to my face. I don't shift my gaze from Ryan's face, drops of water rolling down his perfect face, which looks so much more rugged in the semi-darkness. The flashes of lightning illuminate his every feature, throwing his perfection into the spotlight.
"You're delusional," I spit, not wanting to admit how right Ryan actually is.
"No. You are."
My temper begins to rise, and I curl my hands into fists. "Who do you think you are, huh? Just barging into my life and thinking you know me. You don't know anything."
"Except that you're a victim and you don't even know it," he says indifferently.
He turns away from me, but I grab his arm, spinning him back to face me and refusing to let him walk away.
"What makes you say that?" I demand. "What makes you say I'm a victim?"
Ryan smiles, shaking his head and refusing to answer.
"Truth or dare, Ryan?" I ask him, wanting to punch his handsome face so bad. If this stupid game is what it takes to know Ryan's secrets, then be it. If he can use it against me, I can do the same.
Ryan's smile widens, his eyes sparkling in the light reflected in the raindrops.
"That's not how the game works," he says.
"Shut up and choose, asshole," I snap.
Ryan looks positively amused, and partially proud. "Truth," he finally says.
"Tell me. Tell me why, why you think I'm a victim. Tell me what –"
"I know you're a victim because ..."
Ryan leans towards me, a smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes. His voice is so low I almost can't hear it, and yet I do. Loud and clear.
"Sometimes ... it takes one to know one."
.\.|./.
A/N: Views? Why do you think Ryan got all the groceries? Was he telling the truth or was this his way of helping Crystal without her knowing?
What were you expecting, and where is the story going? You like, you don't like, you ... whatever you feel, let me know. I'm all ears.
Thank you so much for reading <3