-- sidedish friend ., lane

[kaelynn hawthorne]

Kaelynn leaned back

[/b][/i][/font][/color] in the stiff chair until only her toes brushed against the faded Berber carpet. Closing her eyes she stretched her fingers toward the ceiling, slowly curling them into fists before sighing in contentment and allowing them to fall to her side once more. Above the soft murmur of fans the steady patter of rain could be heard against the large windows. She had thought she could wait out the storm in the library but was finding her patience dwindling as the storm rose to a crescendo. Lightning played a game of tag with the thunder: a loud crack ripped apart the sky, the brilliant scar of light flashing through the dull library. As the shadows began to settle, a low rumble of thunder would answer, settling with dread in her stomach. Sky versus earth, and Kaelynn found herself wondering who would finally win the battle.

“Excusez, mademoiselle—“ With a startled gasp, Kaelynn fell forward, colliding against the unrelenting desk. Her auburn hair fell in a veil across her cheeks, masking her glare as she turned toward the irritating voice of the librarian. “Oui?” she gasped.

His polished leather shoe tapped an irritated rhythm as he launched into a long, very French, lecture about whatever she had done wrong this time. Pushing her hair back, Kaelynn stared at him with wide eyes, waiting. Had it not been for his gesturing toward the computer screen she would have no idea what he was talking about. The task bar flashed orange, indicating Dylan had replied in their IM conversation – a crime in the library. “I. don’t. speak. French,” she said with affected slowness, attempting to keep her anger in check. It was one thing when it was another student and entirely different when it was a teacher. “You are in France…”

“Not my choice,” she muttered beneath her breath.

His brow rose but he said nothing to indicate that he had heard her remark. “The computers are for work, pas leisure,” he repeated, his accent think and suffocating. “It is not fair to the other students that you are using the machine when they need use it.”

“What other students?” Kaelynn demanded gesturing to the desolate library.

“These are rules.”

Drawing a deep breath, Kaelynn pursed her lips. Arguing would get her kicked out of the library again. “Sorry,” she mumbled through gritted teeth as he reached over and turned the computer off.

She was going to say something she’d regret – something sarcastic and embittered. Grabbing her bag she stormed away for the computer and toward the small round tables clustered before the windows. Tossing her bag on the table the furthest from the rest of the library, Kaelynn pulled out a chair and flopped into it with a loud sigh. Now what was she going to do? Homework? Not likely. She pulled at the front of her bag, wincing as the Velcro tore apart. If the Library Nazi had a problem with it, it was his fault for kicking her off the computer. Closing her eyes she reached blindly into the bag and retrieved a textbook. It would be like a game of Russian Roulette. She didn’t want to do any of her assignments so she would allow fate to decide for her. Opening her eyes she stared down at the French Grammar text. Of course. “These are the rules,” she murmured to herself, “and you’ll always lose.”
[/blockquote]

[lane bathory]

A CLAP OF OMINOUS THUNDER

[/b][/color] drowned out the definitive thud of a chemistry book smacking shut. With a throaty sigh of annoyance, Lane shoved the book towards the befuddled young student. Mustering up a curl of lips, the tutor spoken in his raspy native French, “We’ll cut this short today, shall we? I don’t want you to be stuck in this weather if it gets any worse.”[/color] His tone was light, but left no room for argument. Lacing his fingers and leaning his elbows against the polished tabletop, Lane propped his chin upon his hands, sharp eyes following the young student as he mumbled his grateful thanks and scrambled to collect his items.

“See you Thursday.”[/color] Lane murmured with disinterest as the young student made his escape into the storm. He was sure his pupil was grateful to him for cutting their session short, but Lane had freed the boy for purely selfish reasons. The way this storm was building it would have been entirely likely the two of them would have been trapped within the confines of the stuffy library well past their finishing time in order to wait out the storm. And Lane truly disliked that boy –he was a bore and dumb as a sack of bricks. Heaven forbid he would have to make conversation with him. This was something he was wholly adverse to.

Lips twisting in look of discontent, Lane surveyed the room silently, poised motionless as he enjoyed the chaos that ensued outside. The crack of lightning above his head set butterflies of excitement fluttering in his stomach. He considered heading home himself at that point, but getting his clothes wet depressed him and would have ruined his good spirits. He would much rather recluse himself within these walls and savour the howling winds that heaved against the rattling windows. He felt somehow akin with this sort of weather. He didn’t bother to dwell on the reasons behind this.

If he was so happy to listen to the storm, then what was the sigh that just escaped his throat about? Lane wondered at himself with a scowl in his brooding eye. He was perfectly content here, alone. Just as his frown began to emerge a shuffle of movement caught his eyes. Lane stared with open surprise as Kaelynn Hawthrone passed before him, trudging towards the table farthest from him. Lane opened his mouth to catch her attention, but she swept right by him as if he hadn’t existed.

It was a slap in the face for a person like Lane Bathory. In his imagination he growled aloud, but rather than reacting so childishly, his cat-like eyes merely hardened. What infuriated him even more than her blatant ignorance was that he even cared. Why should he? She ignored everyone else in the social circle around her, that was obvious. Why else would she be so hopelessly friendless after all this time? It didn’t occur to Lane that he also had no true friends. He was busy making himself feel better at this point. He watched as the girl flopped a hefty textbook onto the tabletop and looked as if she would scream at any moment. Her animated eyes were hooded and sulky, her expressions as obvious as a child’s. Lane didn’t notice his own smile.

Before he could think too much of it, Lane ripped out a piece of paper from his notebook, haphazardly scrawling a short note upon the soft blue lines. You look happy as usual. Folding the paper deftly, Lane took aim and sent a quirky paper plane flying with spectacular precision.
[/blockquote]

[kaelynn hawthorne]

Futur. Futur antérieur. Imparfait. Présent.

[/b][/font][/color] Kaelynn glared at the tenses that seemed to be mocking her with terms she didn’t care to understand. Therein lay all of her problems with her studies: her apathy. If she put forth the effort she could achieve high marks and accolades from the school. Kaelynn, however, didn’t care. Instead she found herself growing increasingly frustrated in class – was it really necessary to have ninety different ways to say the same thing? It made sense that the majority of Paris seemed anti-social, speaking their language was an inconvenience. She preferred silence to speaking the French as well.

Her eyes absently roamed the vacant tables. The occasional student was curved into a question mark over whatever they were studying, devouring the texts that lined the walls. She had always found solace in libraries amidst the yellow pages and spines that cracked open in greeting. She had never seen this library full, despite what the head librarian liked to delude himself into thinking. Most research was done in the privacy of the dorm Google replacing heavy volumes of encyclopedias. At least no one would disturb her here, not that she was accomplishing anything remotely productive.

With a despondent sigh, Kaelynn rested her chin within the soft curve of her palm and stared out the window. Large droplets of rain splattered against the window, peering in at the desolate room before they slid down toward their intended target. The wind howled in warning capturing small leaves that didn’t heed its call and throwing them against the windows. A shiver traced her spine as she turned back toward her text, staring at the pages but not seeing their words.

A small paper plane curled expertly through the air, skimming her shoulder as it landed squarely on the table. For a moment Kaelynn stared at it blankly, uncertain. She surveyed the other students as she nimbly unfolded the paper that had been carelessly torn from a notebook. You look happy as usual was scrawled lazily across the middle. Her cheeks grew warm as she stared at the accusation. There was only one person in the school who would have the nerve to send the note to her and she didn’t have to look up to know that he was in the library somewhere lurking. Lane Bathory. She was certain that he had taken it upon himself to make her life a living nightmare, tormenting her every time the opportunity presented itself. Why he cared that she didn’t pine over his easy smile and quick wit eluded her. There were plenty of girls who would love to gain even a nod from him, why did her aversion to him matter at all? Perhaps, she thought as she stared with irritation at his note, it was because unlike everyone else in the school, she didn’t care about him.

Her fingers curled around the note in frustration as she realized her lie. She did care. She cared what he thought of her and wondered why he went to such lengths to irritate her. Not that Kaelynn Hawthorne had any intention of ever letting him know that he affected her at all. That would mean he would win this twisted game they continued to play and she refused to allow him an easy victory. Holding up her hand she slowly curled her fingers around the note until it was reduced into a small ball. Then, with feigned indifference she dropped it to the ground and returned to conjugating verbs, a smug smile teasing her lips. At least the verbs wouldn’t talk back. She could accept their level of annoyance.
[/blockquote]

[lane bathory]

[/SIZE][/b][/color] in slow motion. There was a first time for everything. The brutal crackle of his note being pulverised within Kaelynn’s tiny palm reverberated throughout his skull stronger than the thunder outside. Lane was certain he followed the dejected ball’s journey from hand to floor far longer than gravity allowed. As it rolled to a pitiful stop beneath a vacated seat, Lane dragged his gaze to the insolent creature a few feet away from him.

His sharp tawny eyes raked across that proud expression with roiling emotion. Lane swore he could hear the careful semblance of his mask cracking. Cheeks ruddy with crimson rage and a hidden sliver of embarrassment, Lane pursed his lips, his bearing haughty as royalty. His emotion was quickly banked, or at least simmered as Lane clattered his fingertips sharply against the table top, weighing his options.

If that simpleton assumed she could illicit an adverse reaction from him in public she was sorely mistaken. Albeit there was hardly a soul in the vast library beside the two of them, but Lane tended to be careful about his actions on school property. He saved trouble for his nights. Lane had been humiliated enough times by his embittered family as a child and had learned early on in life to channel his anger into more clever or cocky rebuttals. All the same, what angered Lane the most was that Kaelynn touched his every never whereas most people remained oblivious to the reality that he even possessed such weaknesses. Yet this naïve and unworldly girl so blatantly saw him and despised him; so genuinely expressed her dislike for him.

Genuinely. Lane’s lips twitched with a hint of sour smile. How many people in this world even know what that meant? Maybe he didn’t even understand honesty; he knew when he saw the absence of it, but had never truly experienced it up until this point. So far, it wasn’t all he’d expected it to be. Not with Kaelynn. Not that he cared –or told himself so. She was, as Americans liked to say, a pain in the ass.

Sufficiently calm, Lane quickly sent the freckled nutcase a roguish and utterly uncaring shrug. Leaning back in his chair with a cavalier expression in which only the French can possess, Lane offered a demeaning smile. Angling his chin to inspect his sleeve for any lint, he nearly laughed aloud at his own personal triumph. Surely she wouldn’t be expecting such. Even more, Lane was certain he didn’t know what to expect of her in return.

That was the best part of it. The intrigue of Kaelynn and the rush he got from not knowing what to expect from her. For all he knew she may well come up this moment and slap him. Oh, he would love that –to get such a rise from her would be better than Christmas. Lane was still exploring all of the entertaining functions of his new toy.
[/ul]

[kaelynn hawthorne]

Leaning back,

[/b][/i][/font][/color] Kaelynn closed her eyes, her face upturned toward the ceiling. Outside the wind continued to howl, rain slamming against the windows and roof in a delightful staccato. For a moment she was transported back to Kampala, back to the storms that arrived from nothing and retreated as quickly. She’d always been fascinated by them, rushing to the nearest window to watch as nature reclaimed the city. Kaelynn missed the simplicity of her life there – of being able to exist without anyone ever questioning her. She was simply known because of her parents; people saw her because they knew of her family. At least there she had been seen. In Paris she was invisible. People in Paris were too preoccupied to notice anyone outside of themselves. They filled their time with meaningless endeavors so they would never have to confront the truth that there was something more than designer names and new gadgets. More times than she cared to count she found herself wondering if every western city was like this or if Paris was an exception. It seemed as though everyone was content to remain isolated from one another. If she was invisible, Kaelynn knew she was not alone.

But she wasn’t completely invisible, she thought with a sigh. Lane saw her. He was the one person who had chosen to acknowledge her existence in this miserable school. The only guy who had even spoken to her except to ask if she had a pencil they could borrow. She hated knowing that his attention was one of the few things that made the school bearable; hated the intuitive way he seemed to know exactly which buttons to press to elicit a reaction from her. Straightening, she glanced over her shoulder to where he sat. His cocky smile was still in place as he shrugged at her causing the familiar ember of anger to spark once more. Her cheeks burned as she turned her attention back to her notebook, hating that he’d seen her reaction. She hated that she cared even more. If it merely a case of him paying her attention Kaelynn was certain she wouldn’t mind Lane Bathory in the slightest. Instead it was all that wasn’t said with his sly smiles and teasing words – the lingering sense that he was playing a game in which she was a pawn not privy to the rules. She had felt it from the first day they’d met and her reservations had never dimmed; if anything she found it had increased. Without knowing the rules it felt like he would forever have the upper hand.

Not today. Today she’d find a way to make him lose.

She glanced over her shoulder again, her attention darting from Lane to the waif-like girl at the table behind him. Her amber hair fell in a flawlessly straight line across her shoulders, broken only by the narrow leather hair band. Large silver hoop earrings glinted as she bobbed her head in tune to the music emanating from her headphones. Even from her vantage point Kaelynn could detect the smoky makeup that lined the other girl’s eyes as she flipped idly through a magazine her glossed lips mouthing words. She looked as though she had just stepped from its pages in her miniskirt and tight-fitting sweater, leather boots neatly encasing her calf. Turning around Kaelynn scowled at her own appearance. While most of the students were slaves to fashion, she had heard herself classified as a reject. She pulled idly on the hem of her gray cardigan as she gathered her books and stuffed them back into her faded and dirtied cloth messenger bag. It had been her mother’s in university, decorated with patches of fabric from beloved articles of clothing that we no longer wearable. Slinging it over her shoulder she nervously buttoned the top of her cardigan, attempting to mask the basic white tee she wore beneath and well-worn jeans. Her fingers silently looped around the old charm necklace that dangled down to her midsection – another of her mother’s beloved possessions. Kaelynn had hoped that with time the feeling of not fitting in would lessen but had found that it had become more acute. In Uganda she stood out because of the color of her skin, here it was her inability to blend that set her apart.

Taking a steadying breath she gripped the shoulder strap on her right shoulder and marched toward Lane. He regarded her coolly for a moment before diverting his attention. She’d seen the smug look of triumph in his eyes, as though he had expected this of her. A small wave of triumph washed over her at the thought that this time he truly didn’t know what to expect of her. Her eyes locked with his and for a dizzying moment she nearly lost her nerve. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating so loudly that she was certain it could be heard above the storm. “Heh—” she cleared her throat, pushing back her reservations. “Hello,” she said, moving around the table so her back was to Lane. Her heart reached a crescendo in her ears, echoing the steady drumming of the rain as she hefted herself onto the table and smiled at the girl across from her.

She was met with a blank stare.

“Um… I think that we’re in the same history class?” Again she was met with a stoic silence, the other girls heavily painted face betraying nothing. Her rich brown eyes carefully traveled over Kaelynn, narrowing in annoyance. Then, with an perturbed sigh, the other girl pulled on the thin white wire of her earphones and allowed it to fall from her ear, clattering against the table top. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

Kaelynn sighed, this was exactly the reaction she’d been expecting. “Yes. I think we’re in the same history class—”

“I think I’d remember if someone like you was in any of my classes,” the other girl interrupted, her eyes continuing to appraise Kaelynn with disdain.“Look,” Kaelynn said through gritted teeth, “Monsieur Belliveau, third period?” The other girl nodded, her glossed lips pursed as she considered the possibility that she could have spent the past few weeks without seeing another classmate. It was possible, Kaelynn wanted to scream. “I don’t mean to bother you but I lost the assignment he posted at the end of class today and was wondering if I could get it off you?”

The other girl shrugged before giving an apathetic nod. She was probably grateful that Kaelynn wasn’t asking to be best friends or something. The insults were sharp barbs in her mind, begging to be unleashed. She wanted to tell the other girl not to flatter herself, that she was only talking to her in some ridiculous attempt to annoy the sulking boy behind her. But Kaelynn wouldn’t admit to that – not even to herself. The other girl leaned over and grabbed a designer bag from beside her, plopping it unceremoniously on the table. She flipped open the top flap and rummaged through various notebooks and beauty products before retrieving the appropriate notebook and sliding it toward Kaelynn. “Thanks,” Kaelynn said as she hopped off from the top of Lane’s table and sat across from the girl, hastily writing down the assignment she already had back in her dorm. “I’m Kaelynn.”

“Don’t care,” the other girl muttered beneath her breath.

Pursing her lips, Kaelynn bit back the torrent of snide remarks that burned against them. She really needed to learn to control her temper; half of the time she couldn’t even recall why she felt annoyed all the time. Had it not been for the boy sitting behind her she would have told the other girl exactly what she thought of her and her deluded self-importance. Instead she contented herself to wish that Miss High-and-Mighty would step in a mud puddle and ruin her designer shoes on the way home. That would show her that the world didn’t revolve around her. Of course both Kaelynn and the designer-dipped emaciated stick knew that wasn’t how things worked. Money, it seemed, was a blanket capable of disguising all sins. Throughout her time in Paris she had come to realize that money was the only currency that mattered. People were expendable, easily overlooked if they did not fit into a preconceived mold of societal acceptance. It was a concept she would never grow accustomed to. In Uganda people were valued – family and friends were held above material possessions because they weren’t in abundance. She missed the feeling of belonging; of walking down a street and having someone give her a hug. Kaelynn was certain that as long as she was in Paris that she would forever be on the outside.

She folded the assignment into a neat square and tucked it into the front pocket of her canvas messenger bag – one that no longer felt cool next to the other girls stylish back. Turning, she refused to acknowledge Lane as she slipped between the tables toward the stacks. Tall wire stands filled with trashy romance novels stood vigil against the classics and Kaelynn nearly spluttered a laugh as she passed. She loved wandering through the vast labyrinth of bookcases, losing herself within the musty smelling pages and dusty shelves. History felt alive and comforting within the cavernous space. It was one of the only places on the campus that she felt comfortable. She pulled a creased scrap of paper from her pocket, reading over the hastily scrawled titles of books for her assignment as she continued to navigate the narrow space between the bookcases feeling more and more dwarfed the further she went. It was like the scene from Alice in Wonderland where she shrinks. If she wasn’t accustomed to feeling invisible Kaelynn would have felt intimidated.

A loud crack of thunder echoed through the library, reverberating deep within her chest and causing the lights to rattle overhead. The soft fluorescent glow flickered, casting wavering shadows against the walls. Dread curled itself in her stomach as she continued, pausing only long enough to cast a baleful glare – a dare – to the lights overhead. Their soft flickering gave the library and eerie feeling, making each movement seem more calculated and sharp. Inhaling deeply she resigned herself to the task at hand. If she found the research material she could check it out and head back to her dorm without having said a single word to Lane. It was a small victory but it brought a triumphant smile to her lips nonetheless.

As she rounded the corner a wavering shadow caught the corner of her eye. She couldn’t breathe, each shallow gasp rasping painfully against her chest. Whipping her head around Kaelynn peered into the vacant stacks behind her. Leaning against a tall bookshelf she attempted to steel herself once more. There was no one there; she was imagining things because of the storm. Glancing down her at her trembling hands she stared at the hastily scrawled serial numbers again, hoping they would dispel the memories that lingered in each snaking shadow. “D…,” she muttered beneath her breath as she scanned the towering bookcases. Leaning back she stared upward where she could no longer read the words on the spines. It wouldn’t surprise her if the books were on the top shelf, conveniently out of reach – that would be just her luck. First running into Lane and then the curse of her minute height.

Another peal of thunder sounded, rumbling deep beneath her feet. The lights flickered a final breath of life before plunging the library into darkness.

Kaelynn stumbled backward, her eyes wide. Inky blackness claimed everything, her heart hammering in her ears. She couldn’t breathe. Dark eyes peered at her, cold and hard, their hatred the only spark of life as she looked back. Blinking rapidly she rubbed her hands against her eyes in a vain attempt to dispel the image. Beneath the steady thrum of the rain and angry shouts of thunder and lightning she was certain that she could hear his laugh once more. “No, no, please no.” she murmured like a mantra. Her hands were extended before her, tracing the firm shelves as she attempted to navigate her way back to the main area. At least there were windows there; someone to see her, to save her. He couldn’t hurt her again if only she could get to the light.

Reeling back her foot caught on something and she would be able to make out people again. A soft, desperate cry escaping her lips as her foot twisted beneath her, causing her to topple to he ground. Tears pricked her eyes as she curled her legs to her chest and rested her head against them. “I’m in a library, in Paris. I’m safe. I’m safe,” she whispered into the shadows. Soft footsteps padded across the carpet and Kaelynn stifled a scream as she pressed herself further into the shadows. Wrenching her eyes shut she breathed a silent prayer.

It was the first time she wished she was invisible.
[/blockquote]

[lane bathory]

[/SIZE][/b][/color] was worse than death in the world of Lane Bathory. Invisibility was his nightmare, the whisper of hopelessness which drove him towards the person he was today. It lurked around every corner, a dark roiling cloud of distant memories waiting to envelope and choke him. Lane had spent his childhood invisible; a vapour to be blown away by the next careless breeze.

His father had looked through him –he hadn’t deemed him worthy even for even an icy stare. Brothers and sisters didn’t bully him so much as forgot he was there amongst the raucous crowd of siblings. He was pushed and pulled by their waves like a piece of debris in a massive sea. The amount of times he’d had to walk home alone, seven years old, from school when someone forgot to pick him up where countless, endless. There was no point in accomplishing anything, because no one would congratulate you, even begrudgingly. There was no point in being good, because no one cared. It had been easy for adolescent Lane to believe he was meaningless, unseen, hopeless.

It was this that Lane saw in Kaelynn. The first time he’d glanced so carelessly into those wide molten eyes he had seen himself looked back. The Lane of age ten; confused and lost, embittered towards the world, yet still desperately wishing for that shred of confirmation that he existed. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t stand being near her for long.

Lane couldn’t stand himself for long, either. His past self, at least. At this point he was smugly pleased how he’d turned out, and how he was now smarter than everyone else around him, wiser and stronger. At least, he enjoyed entertaining that idea.

Staring into the face of his past and having it talk back was unnerving. That voice even held proper attitude and naïve hope in it. That voice was Kaelynn’s. It was almost too much to bear. And yet Kaelynn had that essence about her that separated her from his past self. Love. She had a family she trusted. She’d made friends back in whatever hole she’d initially crawled out of –something Lane hadn’t even managed back then when he’d been young and guileless. Love had long escaped him, in all forms. He wasn’t even sure if love for anyone or anything had ever blossomed within him. It hardly matter now, did it? He had turned out just fine.

All of this fled through Lane’s consciousness as he watched the embarrassing scene unfold before him. As he watched Kaelynn get promptly crushed, he marvelled at the twin pangs of pleasure and pain he felt for her. Of course, it had been good she’d been put in her place. He’d long ago discovered the importance of getting crushed before you learned to rise above it all. That aside, it would teach her not to try and teach him a lesson. Lane had already long experienced every lesson in the book. Loss, abandonment, envy, embarrassment, fear, sorrow. Been and done.

On the other hand, there was a dull ache in his chest which he vaguely recognised as empathy. Gritting his teeth against the intrusive emotion, he swept a haughty look over Kaelynn as she fled the scene.

There was a long moment of silence in the vast room, the pop and crackle of lightning and thunder the only noise above his breathing. Lane tapped his nails against the table, fidgeting slightly. The cogs in his head turned with ferocity as he comically made to stand, then thought better of it and sat. He stood up again, face set pleasantly as he strolled over to the beautiful girl Kaelynn had been speaking to. Tapping a finger on the magazine she was so engrossed in, Lane grabbed her attention with a smile. Her face lit with sudden surprise and appreciation as she clumsily tugged off both her ear-buds and smoothed down her hair. “Excuse me, love.”[/color] He purred happily, leaning in conspiratorially, his glinting eyes like a hawk, “I just want to mention how I love the nose job. Really.” Lane assured her earnestly, “Fabulous work. You can hardly tell.”[/color] He paused, stood to his full height and winked down at her, “Hardly.”

With that, he flounced off in the direction he’d seen Kaelynn scamper off to, leaving the latter girl digging ferociously through her purse for her cosmetic mirror. He thought he might share his good news with her. Might make her feel better, Lane’s twisted mind resolved. And really, in the end he was the only one allowed to play with his toy, damnit. He could make or break it however he wished.

Rounding a corner, he spotted her lone figure at the far end of some stacks, and was about to sneak up on her when the lights went utterly dead.

What an interesting turn of events, mused Lane without a hint of alarm. Not afraid in the least, he trailed his fingers along the endless spines of books, lids shut serenely to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The darkness was a warm and comforting friend. Darkness and Lane were extremely well acquainted. An old French lullaby hummed with eerie beauty in the back of his throat as he strolled forward, confident he would eventually reach Kaelynn. “Marco!” Lane’s raspy voice called, his outburst ending on a laugh. What fun!
[/ul]

[kaelynn hawthorne]

A soft lullaby

[/b][/color] rasped pleasant and carefree as her face was pressed firmly into the downy pillow. She had given up struggling, his warm weight settled against her back as he forced her into complacency. Hot tears adhered the fabric to her cheeks, her pleas muffled by the stale fabric he’d wedged between her teeth. “There’s a good girl,” his richly accented voice murmured against her ear. “Keep this up and maybe things will be easier on you.” He chuckled darkly as she renewed her struggles beneath him. They both knew her efforts were futile but Kaelynn had to try. She needed to fight back, the desire as instinctual as breathing.

Her hands balled into small fists as she curled further into the shadows. That night seemed a lifetime away and she had been certain that its terror would never touch her again. Despite the knowledge that she was safe within the walls of Paris Prep’s library, her heart reached a painful crescendo within her chest. Her shallow breath echoed in her ears drowning out the storm. Wrenching her eyes closed, Kaelynn attempted to fixate on anything besides the memory that lapped at the corners of her consciousness like a flame to dried wood. She could see the smiling faces of her parents as they cuddled orphaned infants at the baby’s home. The soft lullaby her mother cooed to the child in her arms transformed into something more sinister.

No! Kaelynn commanded herself. She would regain control, it was all she had left.

“Marco!” a familiar voice called out. Its rasp pulled her back to the present, slowly connecting with memory as it faded into an amused laugh. Lane Bathory. She had thought she’d lost him when she stalked off. Kaelynn couldn’t fathom why he was there, presumably following her into the stacks. “Go away,” she muttered in defeat before she could stop herself.

There was only one reason she could think of for him to seek her out – he wanted to rub in her failing at the table. That didn’t matter anymore. Kaelynn didn’t care if her juvenile attempt to show him he didn’t affect her had made any dent in his impenetrable veneer. The more time she spent with him the more she became convinced that there was more to Lane than the façade he presented to the world. In that way they mirrored one another, each pretending to be strong while they crumbled inside. Though she knew this, she had no desire for Lane to see her so broken. Frustrated she ran her hands over her face and scowled as she felt wetness upon her cheeks. She couldn’t afford to be weak – not now; not with him so close by.

What frightened her more than the grip of her past was how desperately she wanted him to stay. He was the only person who could see her, who made an effort to seek her out – albeit to taunt her. But he remained and for some inexplicable reason that made all the difference. Resting her forehead against her knees she bit back the embittered sigh that teased her lips. Whatever hers and Lane’s relationship was, Kaelynn was certain that it involved some intricate game whose rules she was not privy to.

“We’re going to have so much fun together,” her captor’s voice rasped. His fingers tangled in her hair, wrapping it around his fist before pulling her up and against him. “Well, at least I will…”

Closing her eyes, Kaelynn pressed herself against the bookcase and prayed that the shadows that hid her would also mask her secrets. “Please,” she whimpered, “just leave me alone.”
[/blockquote]

[lane bathory]

[/color][/b][/size] the librarian’s alarmed stream of French faded from Lane’s attention. A girl in the study area squealed in appropriate feminine disdain – because, of course, the lights going out was truly the most devastating thing to have happened to her all week. Nothing scarier, really.

Buffoons.

And yet there was not a peep from his new little friend. No wailing for help like some pathetic damsel in distress, and no groan of annoyance from the utter injustice of the power failing. Simply... nothing.

Lane pursed his lips and took careful, solid steps forward; his fingertips using the crackled book spines for guidance. His eyes had adjusted to the pitch of the room, and he could make out gloomy corners and obscure shapes. He was considering spooking Kaelynn further, when a snap of lightning illuminated the room in black and white for a blink of an eye.

A curled, petite figure, not six feet away, was highlighted in sharp relief; then swallowed in shadow.

Lane paused, mid-step, and frowned into the smothering darkness. Odd. She appeared genuinely frightened. That, or she has tripped over her own feet and fallen, and was now awfully embarrassed. Lane would not put it past her.

“Please – just leave me alone,” a tiny voice implored.

Something foreign twinged in Lane’s chest; and instead of wincing with the unexpected pain, he simply rolled his eyes and uttered a tsch noise. Lane ambled forward, making himself known through speech before he’d arrived at Kaelynn’s side.

“Idiot,”[/color] he said lightly. “You will look a fool if the lights come on and everyone sees you in such a state.”[/color]

He brought a toe forward and lightly prodded Kaelynn’s thigh – or, whatever body part it was. “At least if you are sitting with someone when the power returns, they will not think you are a lonely little girl, scared of the dark.”[/color]

With a dramatic sigh, Lane leaned lightly against a bookshelf and slid to the floor with ease. He stretched his legs out; ankles crossed, and angled his face towards the body-heat he felt beside him. “One must be mindful of how other people see us, oui? That is why the Barbie girls do not like you.”[/color]

Lane lifted his hips and pulled from his pocket, a gold-plated lighter and a slightly crumpled cigarette. He brought it to his lips, and cupped his palm around the dancing, orange flame as he lit the tip. From the corner of his eye, he distinguished a pale moon face and shivering limbs. A muscle in Lane’s jaw twitched.

Sucking in a deep drag of musky smoke, Lane tossed the lighter to Kaelynn’s feet.

“Light.”[/color]
[/ul]

[kaelynn hawthorne]

Terror coiled tightly around Kaelynn’s lithe form,

[/b][/color]holding her prisoner within its relentless grasp. Fear, she had come to realise, was not blind. Instead it was omnipresent, refusing to be ignored; preserving each memory. Knowledge alone was not powerful enough to separate her from the past. Sitting in the library stacks Kaelynn knew that she was thousands of miles away from her assailant that still night in Uganda. She knew yet she could still smell his warm breath as it caressed her cheek and feel his calloused hands upon her bare arms. People had told her that she was lucky to have escaped, but they were wrong. That night still held Kaelynn captive and she did not know how to free herself.

“Idiot,” Lane chided, his accented voice untroubled. For a moment Kaelynn allowed herself to hope that he would just leave and leave her to suffocate within the confines of the past. He wouldn’t be the one to hold her and keep her safe. There was no one who cared about here at this damned school. She didn’t fit their image of perfection and relegated her to the sidelines where they could continue to exist within the unblemished glow of whatever spotlight shone on them. Everyone in the school fit into a perfect mould princess or prince; athlete; intellect; idiot…

Ass. “You will look a fool if the lights come on and everyone sees you in such a state.” His toe nudged her thigh as if to emphasise his point. “At least if you are sitting with someone when the power returns they will not think you are a lonely little girl, scared of the dark.” Closing her eyes in resignation, she drew her knees in closer to her body and willed herself to vanish; for the inky blackness to swallow her whole until nothing remained. Anything would be better than the despair she felt crashing over her in relentless waves like a tsunami. “I don’t care,” she muttered in response. Then, remembering his accusation, added, “I’m not scared.”

An over-pronounced sigh of disgust escaped Lane’s lips, following his progress as he slid into place beside her. She could feel his presence beside her so tangibly that it made her heart ache. She wanted to feel his warmth around her until it allowed her to forget everything else. Instead of reaching out, Kaelynn inched slightly away from him and rested her forehead on her knees. He couldn’t know what had happened to her. Knowledge would grant Lane a power over and she was not willing to relinquish control. Surely he would mock what had happened to her – probably tell her that she had a delinquent abductor who failed to finish the job. Maybe he knew someone who could fix the problem of her existence once and for all.

She was no longer listening to his lecture on proper storm etiquette or whatever else he was droning on about. Finding her lacking while making a point to expose her every insecurity. From the first day they had met Kaelynn had not been able to understand why he kept coming back. If he hated her so much why go to such lengths to pester her at every turn? It wasn’t because he actually cared. Lane only cared for himself, and even then Kaelynn was certain someone could argue against it. There was no place for her. In Uganda she had felt as though she belonged. Being there was like wearing a broken-in pair of jeans, comfortable and a perfect fit. But she was no longer welcome there. Instead she had been banished to this hellhole of a school and knew that there would never be a place she could call her own amongst the cold stone archways and halls. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, marking her descent. Kaelynn was thankful that just like every other time they had spent together, Lane was unable to see her clearly at all.

From the corner of her eye a flame flickered to life, and she jumped instinctively. The acrid smell of cigarettes burned in her nostrils as Lane leaned his head back and exhaled slowly. Awesome, she thought bitterly. If the librarian didn’t utterly hate her before, now he would likely have her pegged as an arsonist – especially after the lighter brushed against her toe before landing on the floor in front of her with a dull thud. “Light.”

“No. Thank you,” Kaelynn replied before she could filter herself. “I like having lungs that aren’t shrivelled and black.”

Even as the words slipped into the stillness between them she couldn’t help but wonder if she was wrong about Lane after all. Perhaps, against all reason, he did care after all.[/blockquote]

[lane bathory]

[/size][/b][/color] Lane peered at Kaelynn over the glowing cherry of the cigarette. Her cheeks were illuminated in stains of pink and orange, her eyelashes casting dark, dramatic curves on her cheeks as she looked to the abandoned lighter.

“No, thank you,” she said in a voice that was stronger than which Lane would have given her credit. “I like having lungs that aren’t shrivelled and black.”

Lane snorted a soft laugh, ribbons of blue smoke shooting from his nostrils. “Matches my heart, though,” [/color] he said with a grin.

Another sliver of lightning shattered the bruised shadows; brought the stacks and floor to life like a jerky, black and white moving picture. Lane saw his hands on his thighs, thin and pale as bone in the brief stab of brightness, and then gone.

People tended to think everything looked worse – spookier, more evil – during a storm. Lane knew better.

This was the weather that brought reality crashing down; reminded both the bad and the good people of the world that they were alone, helpless, mortal. This was the weather that pounded and screamed at the door; reminded people of times long ago when they lived in hovels and huts, and a bit of rain was enough to destroy house and home.

It was welcome – the slice of fear that cut slowly down the length of Lane’s spine. He was reminded again that he could die. Eventually.

Of course, Lane had not always thought of it that way. But there had never been anyone to shelter him from the storm, or coo his fears away. There had never been anyone to shift that impending weight of loneliness from his shoulders.

In each flash of light, that was what Lane saw beside him. It was annoying – troublesome to stare in the face of his own past brought to life in a beautiful girl with fierce eyes. And yet...

Lane sucked down a deep breath of smoke, nipped the filter from his lips and crushed it out on the carpet beside him. With a hefty sigh, he reached over Kaelynn’s foot and fumbled for the lighter. There was a click and fizz as he flicked the flame to life. Tarnished gold glinted within Lane’s cupped hands as he rested them atop his lap.

“I suppose I am going to waste all of my lighter fluid on you.” [/color] Lane looked up, into the darkness where the high arch of ceiling should be. A rumble of thunder rolled overhead like a freight train.

“Would you like me to set a book on fire?” [/color] A feline smile lit up Lane’s face as he shifted and held the flame up to the spines of the books. “I don’t suppose anyone will miss...” [/color] He squinted at the title. “Knit Your Own Wedding Dress. And anyone who would lament the loss of such a book should not be in possession of it – or a husband – anyway.” [/color]
[/ul]

[kaelynn hawthorne]

Lane’s soft laugh filled the void around them.

[/b][/color]Despite the darkness, Kaelynn knew the lopsided way his mouth would quirk with the sound; his dimples deepening with the motion. He seemed to move through life with such practiced ease. Never caring what others thought. Never caring how his actions impacted those around him. It was as though Lane had created an island out of his life years ago and felt no need to pay attention to the people drowning off its shores.

She could still hear her mother’s voice as it waivered beneath the weight of emotion that night two years ago. The power had gone out but Kaelynn was not afraid. Instead her father had lit a dozen candles and placed them on the coffee table before sitting beside her and holding her hand. He hadn’t said anything as Kaelynn’s mother poured them all steaming mugs of tea. He hadn’t needed to; his mere presence had been all the comfort Kaelynn had needed. His hand never released hers as her mother detailed all of the reasons why they were sending her to live with her aunt in France – “It’s safer there.” – and when Kaelynn had looked to her father to protect her, he had looked away. But it hadn’t proved to be. While there were no rebels with guns threatening her survival there were the weapons of apathy and indifference. Kaelynn didn’t know who she was supposed to be here and each day she was afraid that she was losing another piece of the girl she had once known.

Annoyance gave way to anger and Kaelynn grabbed hold of the emotion with all her strength. In her anger there was space. There was separation. Her hands clenched into tight fists once more as though they could hold onto the emotion and keep all of her insecurities at bay.

Beside her there was a click. A fizz. A flickering orange glow. She turned her head slightly to stare at Lane’s dark features as he watched the flame that was protected within the gentle curve of his hand. “I suppose I am going to waste all of my lighter fluid on you.” His words pierced her through. It was true – she was nothing more than a wasted effort. She hated him for making her care; it made the realization that he didn’t hurt all the more. She was stupid to be sitting here and imagining warmth where there was nothing but shadows. “Would you like me to set a book on fire? I don’t suppose anyone will miss… Knit Your Own Wedding Dress. And anyone who would lament the loss of such a book should not be in possession of it – or a husband – anyway.”

For a moment, Kaelynn was still, her breath barely audible as it slipped over parted lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her head skyward as she fought valiantly for control. But she had been alone for too long now and the isolation had stripped her bare. “I want you to leave me alone,” she gasped, not truly believing the words but saying them nonetheless. Stumbling to her feet she took her first shaky steps away from him. “But I wouldn’t want you to waste anything on me, so I’ll make it easy. You can sit here and burn down the library or whatever it is that you do. I’ll go piss off Barbie – or whatever you think it is that I do. At least they don’t pretend to give a flying fart about me.”

Her fingers traced the worn spines as she turned and stumbled blindly forward. Just like she knew the flame he held in his hand could not last, Kaelynn knew that Lane Bathory was nothing more than an illusion.[/blockquote]