Feed the Flames

-celine’s pov-

Never in my life had I grown emotionally attached to anyone. I didn’t understand human emotion. I was puzzled by it. What exactly was the feeling you get when you ‘loved’ someone? How did you know that the feeling was love, or adoration, or simple lust? There was nothing to tell you what exactly a feeling was, only your heart telling you what it wanted that feeling to be. The feeling one person associated with hate could be the feeling another person associated with sadness. One person’s sadness could be another person’s love, so on and so forth.

In books, characters feel all the time but…I could never quite grasp it. I never spoke these things, believing they’d make me more of an outcast than I already was, or worse, draw attention to me. But I never grasped the concept of emotion. Which was just great considering that expressing emotion through facial expression was one of my main ways of communication.

Love was the thing I failed to grasp the most. Whenever I read a book with romance as a title subject, I tried to understand how the scenario would be in real life. But I didn’t understand how two people, together only by a mutual feeling, could live together for so long without fighting, without ripping each other apart, and without growing tired of one another. Was it really that strong an emotion? That it could cause two people to live in absolute resonance and peace for their entire lives as long as that other person lived?

I couldn’t fathom it. Again, the concept eluded and confused me.

My arm rested on the sides of the bathtub, one hand holding a book open, and the other drew absent-minded circles on the water’s surface. Delicately I traced spirals and shapes onto the surface of the water in the bathtub, and as my eyes reached the end of a page I dried my fingers on a dry bath cloth and turned the page.

I went back to tracing shapes. When I blinked, hazel eyes plagued me, and so I didn’t blink. My eyes were accustomed to not blinking for long amounts of time, only possible through my reading so much. When I read with silence in my head, the silence was broken by his voice. So I made my thoughts louder. When I opened my palm flat against the water, I swore I could feel his fingertips grace my skin. I wanted nothing more than to shut my mind off and go to sleep, but I couldn’t.

He plagued me, and I hated it but…but I didn’t. I wanted to see him. I wanted to hear him, I wanted to feel him. I wanted him to sit and talk, and stare, and hold my hands and let that feeling inside of me that I couldn’t shake absolutely consume me.

I sighed and closed my book, slamming it against the side of the tub, and then shoving it off, letting it fall to the floor as I sunk down in the bathtub, my hands going over my face. I couldn’t even read anymore. My thoughts felt like they were eating away at my brain, devouring anything else my mind may wander to, and so I was left with only him.

With Frank.

Goddamn him.

Who was he to float into my life like some stray leaf passing by in a gust of wind? Except he didn’t pass by, he got caught on me, and now I was caught on him but why? I didn’t like things I could not answer myself, or get answers to from someone else. I didn’t like not knowing about him. I had let him so close already. I had wasted two words on him. But that was the worst part. I didn’t feel those words were wasted. Stay, and perhaps. Strong words; one an order, the other an answer of sorts, but only of sorts.

I felt defeated. I felt like I had been bested on a battlefield and all I could do was comply with the enemy’s orders. But then again, who’s to say my feeling of defeat wasn’t his feeling of satisfaction?

The warm water was turning cold and no longer offered the comfort it once had. I got out, dried off, got on some clothes, retrieved my book -apologizing in my mind for tossing it in my fit of anger- and then stood in the doorway, wondering what I was going to do.

If I stayed in my room and attempted to continue reading in my state of distraction and dismay, my anger would build until I harmed one of the poor books in my room that would be unlucky enough to get thrown at a wall. If I left, and headed up to my usual spot on the roof, my anger would be chilled by the cool air, allowing me to read, but I would run the risk of Frank showing up just in case I were to be there.

My subconscious made up my mind while I was still deciding, and as I realized I wanted to head up to the roof, I was already halfway up the stairs.
______

The air was refreshing, I’d been correct about that. Each time I took in a deep breath and then exhaled, I felt like I was breathing out too many pent up feelings. As I stood on the edge of the building, I peered down into the courtyard below. It was empty. When I looked up, the sky was clear. No clouds, no moon, just stars. The night was silent, no trees rustled, no owls called out, no bugs buzzed or chirped. I looked down again, and as peaceful as things were now, in a few hours the halls would bustle with crowds of teenagers, and the courtyard would be filled with the dull drone of idle and excited talk. It was hard to believe such silence could be broken, such peace driven away…

“Thinking, are we?” I jumped in my skin, and turned at the same time. My feet wobbled, my legs giving out, but as my body leaned back, my mind panicking, a hand grabbed my shirt and pulled, and I fell forward instead, clashing with the origin of the voice, and we crashed to the gravel on the roof. “Shit, I got you, don’t worry.” I rolled off the body, my heart beating too fast for my liking as I put a hand on my stomach, feeling it lurching about still. I stared at the sky, wide-eyed, my mind not registering how close I was to death. I had nearly fallen before, but it hadn’t been an accident. To not want death and then be faced with it…that was something else entirely. “Cell,” Frank’s face appeared above me, and my eyes were forced to refocus on him as he blocked out my view of the stars. Concern was shattering the usual expression of cheeriness on his face. “Are you alright?”

Weakly, I nodded, the gesture being the only thing I could muster at the moment. Frank smiled slightly then, and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I-I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to be that jumpy.”

I breathed out sharply through my nose, a smirk on my face. “Does that mean I should’ve known not to do that?” Frank asked, still hovering, and I nodded once more. “I’ll be sure to remember to make my presence known a bit more subtlety next time.” He stood, and then held out his hand, and I was just sitting up. I hesitated to take it, but I did, and when he pulled me to my feet, he held onto my hand just a second too long, our eyes meeting for another second too long. Then Frank turned, heading over to the ledge. “C’mon.” He smiled back at me, and patted the spot next to him. “I promise I won’t startle you off this time.” With a slight roll of my eyes, I went over and sat down next to him, swinging my legs off the ledge as well. He picked up the book that I had placed on the ledge before I decided to stand for a moment and let the wind blow through me. “Still on DeRosa’s ‘The Calling’, I see. I figured you’d have this read by tonight, at least.” He looked over at me and I diverted my gaze to the ground.

With a shrug, I gently kicked my heel against the building. “Distracted.” I told him quickly and quietly, and he slowly nodded.

“Well, I could read it to you, if that would help.” I looked over at Frank skeptically at the proposal, and he cocked an eyebrow. “I’m an excellent reader, I’m told.” He offered a smile with that, and I wanted to sigh and roll my eyes and then shake my head, but the thought of listening to his voice drone on about a mythical song that killed whoever heard it made me nod once, if hesitantly. “Alright then.” He opened the book to the page I had bookmarked and took the bookmark out, storing it in the back of the book.

Frank shifted around, like he was getting comfortable; like he planned on staying or a while. “Detective Brooks tried to clear his thoughts in an attempt to keep the song at bay. He had let himself read the page, even if was only a quick read, he felt like his mind had studied the words extensively, and soaked them in, absorbing the song and the weight it carried into his soul.” As Frank read, I couldn’t help but find solace in his voice. The way it echoed through my head, my mind repeating the words, I felt as if I was studying his voice like this Detective Brooks character was studying the song. His voice carried the words exactly how they were written. I felt like I was reading the book myself, except the voice reading the words wasn’t my own and it wasn’t in my head.

I found myself watching him; watching his lips as they spoke each word, watching his eyes as they consumed each mark on the paper, watching his hands as he turned each page or readjusted the paperback in them… I forced myself more than once to turn my attention back to the stars. Eventually I moved, sitting down on the roof with my back against the ledge, my knees up to my chest, and my head leaned back against the corner of the ledge.

I was focused on the words coming through his lips until my mind began shutting down, and I was unable to stop it.

Eyes focused on a shape in the dark. Ears heard the tone, the voice, but not the words.

Mind focused on the sound of his voice. A hand on his face, fingers traced his lips in the dark.

Feeling the words ears couldn’t decipher, feeling the sound, though incapable of hearing the meaning of the sound, and unable to feel the emotion that resonated with them.

Was it important?

It was important enough. Words wasted on deaf ears. Words wasted on me.

But what were they?

Darkness proved an enemy. Eyes struggled against it, losing sight of his face.

Drowning in the unknown. Answers evaded my every attempt at grasping them.

I had to listen. I had to hear.

“Wake up.”

I sat up, calm, not panting, not sweating. My heart was composed my mind steady. I was in a sea of light. Unaware if the words in my ear were from a person or simply my mind, the latter proved true as I looked around to see I was alone. I was still on the roof, sitting with my back against the ledge. It was daytime. Not dawn, not morning, but daytime. The sun was high, having risen long ago. I rubbed at my eyes, wondering how I had fallen asleep. When had I fallen asleep? I remembered Frank reading, and I must’ve drifted off while he was doing so. I noticed the book in my lap, and I picked it up, seeing at least he marked the last page with the bookmark.

Slowly, I got to my feet and stretched. It was midday. I was not making it to classes. If I only went for the latter half of the classes, it would be obvious I had overslept. If I didn’t go at all, it would be assumed I was sick. The latter of those was much more accepted than the first.
______

I had collapsed on the couch as soon as I got to the dorm. But as soon as I did, there was a knock on the door. I lay still for a moment, my book resting on my stomach and my other arm folded behind my head. Who would be knocking on the door? Worst case, a teacher, very worst case, Frank. After a second I stood, and walked over to the door. Swinging it open, it was the very worst case scenario.

“Holy shit, you’re here, thank god, man.” Frank ran a hand back through his hair with a laugh. “Sorry to intrude, but you’ve been missing all morning and I got worried and I-I…I suppose there’s no need for me to stand here and spew my worry.”

I scoffed, my mind foggy and tired, letting my brain subconsciously answer him out loud. “Worrying…” I muttered, and he nodded like it was obvious.

“I didn’t mean to just leave you on the roof; I expected you’d wake up. When you didn’t show up I thought, ‘Great, I’ve just let the one person I can tolerate in this school to fry on the roof.” Cocking an eyebrow, my groggy conscious gave him a look of skepticism, and he shrugged slightly. “I don’t tolerate many. If anything I tolerate no one except my good friends.” I smiled slightly at that, sleepily, and yawned, turning and walking back towards the couch. He leaned against the doorframe, seeming uncomfortable with walking in. Rightfully so, even leaning against the doorframe could get him expelled. “How about you join us at lunch tomorrow?”

I sat down on the couch with another yawn. Why was I so tired? I could go days without sleep, and I had just woken up. Why was I so tired… I didn’t know. In my state of exhaustion, I didn’t even care. I laid back on the couch, fighting my eyelids. Why the hell was I tired?

“Hey,” I opened my eyes at the soft voice, and Frank was hanging over the back of the couch. “Is that a yes to lunch?” I faintly nodded, and just barely caught the grin on his face as I closed my eyes again. “Great.” His last word hardly registered.

The door closing brought me out of my dazed state a bit, but I closed my eyes again shortly after, though just as I did I opened them once more, hearing the door open. I sat up, and looked over the back of the couch, seeing Ronan step in. Why was she back at lunch? Had she forgotten something?

“What?” I growled, malice in my voice, anger coating the word, though I didn’t mean for it to. My mind was a bog; I struggled to form every thought cohesively. Every thought was a war in my mind and I battled everything at the moment. Ronan looked at me with uncertainty in her eyes.

“Did Frank just walk out of here?” She asked, and I let out an annoyed groan as I threw myself back on the couch, throwing my arms over my face to shield my eyes from the light. “Okay, alright, sorry I asked.” She whispered, and I only barely heard her go into her room and then return a moment later, leaving the dorm.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t see sleep as a task, or an annoyance. I welcomed it.

Notes