Ch. 12
AMBER
I don't see Mac for a few days after our little information session. I'm not surprised either, considering how fucking awkward I made everything. The days seem to pass in slow motion. Pey keeps trying to get me to go places with her, but I'm never in the mood. I feel like I've really become one with my bed over these past few months.
The dorm door swings open as Pey pokes her head in. Speak of the devil. "Hey, roomie. Figured you'd be in here.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She ignores me. “Up for a drink?"
I'm lying in bed, as usual, and I prop myself up onto my elbow. "What kind of drink?"
She grins. "You know what kind. We're all meeting in Chris and Dylan's room."
I raise my eyebrows. I really shouldn't. But I'm also not really one to pass up a free drink, so I hop off the bed and slip into my crocs, following Pey out the door and up the stairs to the fourth floor.
Everyone else is already there when we show up, and I sit on the ground next to V. She grins and hands me a red plastic cup almost overflowing with liquid, and I take a small sip. It tastes like vodka and cranberry, and I take another, longer sip. It's been a minute since I've had anything to drink.
I've been trying really hard not to think about what happened with Mac, with little success. His hands on mine felt comforting, and he actually sounded worried for me. And then like the absolute dumbass I am, I ruined it. Hopefully I didn’t totally fuck our vibe up with my freakout. I’ve just got to pray I didn’t shoot anything across this stupid bond when it happened.
Shaking my head, I drain the rest of my cup and poke V until she passes me a bottle. I don't know where I'm going with these thoughts, anyways. He's an angel, a being of God. And I'm...me. It's not like Mac really means anything he does, anyways. At the end of the day, I'm his job. His assignment. Nothing more.
"Hey, where's Mac?" Dylan whines. He's lying on his stomach in his bed, kicking his feet back and forth in the air. "I wanted to see him!"
"Oh, he doesn't drink," I say, taking another sip. "He...told me."
Dylan groans, and Chris snorts from his spot on his own bed, saying, "He sure don't seem like the drinking type. We'll have to put him on."
Mor is sitting upside down in Chris's oversized Papasan chair, and she wiggles her empty cup in the air. "Amber knows everything about Mac because they're besties."
I wince as Pey reaches over and pours her more to drink. "You guys do hang out a lot. It’s like having a third roommate sometimes," Pey says to me, pouring herself some too. Then she turns to Mor. “Hey, sit up if you’re gonna drink or you’ll choke.”
I look down at my own cup. "Well, he's...new to town. I just thought it'd be nice for someone to show him the ropes and stuff. Nothing special."
"Well, the first thing you need to do is put the poor boy on to some good music," Silas sighs, kissing the top of V’s head twice. Drunk Silas is even more affectionate than Sober Silas. V's resting her head on his shoulder, and she laughs.
"Noted.”
The next five hours consists of a lot of drinking games, swear words, and yelling. V and Silas are the first to leave, and it's pretty clear from the look on their faces what they're planning on doing next. I shakily get to my feet, and I've got to pull Pey to hers. She's unusually giggly when she’s drunk, and tonight’s no different.
"I have to go, too," she hiccups. "I'll be back later though!"
Now, Sober Amber would've asked a bit more questions before letting her roommate wander off drunk at 2 in the morning. However, Drunk Amber said, "Okie dokie!" and let her go.
After Pey leaves, I turn to look at Mor. In the two minutes since we stopped playing Drunk Monopoly, she's passed out upside down in the chair again. Hopefully she doesn't puke. Dylan is snoring, which means he’s also asleep, and I sigh.
"I'll handle them," Chris says, and I look up at him. He’s sitting up in his bed, and he smirks at me. "Don't worry, you know I've got a high tolerance."
“I can take Mor back to our hall.” I thrust my arms out to pat her leg. She snores louder. “She lives near me!”
“Yeah, Amber, I know.” Chris shrugs. “I’ve got her, don’t worry.”
I frown. "Make sure you actually take care of her."
"Yeah, yeah, now get out."
Sliding my hand against the wall to keep my balance, I slowly begin the trek back to my room. It takes three tries to get into my dorm room because I keep dropping the key card, and when I finally get it open, I burst into triumphant laughter.
I move over to my bed, changing into my pajama pants and a t-shirt. Ugh, the room is so lonely without Pey here. I wonder where she runs off to all the time. I hate being lonely. I don't want to be alone anymore.
My head is racing from everything that has happened over the last two and a half months. Meeting Mac is at the top of the list. But I think I'm more concerned with the fact that he can't find my soulmate over the fact that angels are real. I lean over my bed and take a shaky breath, letting out a nervous laugh. Maybe I should've stayed with Chris.
Soulmates. God, the idea makes me itch. I hate being itchy. Itchy and alone is one of the deadliest combinations a person can be.
I've spent my entire life trying to make things work with other people. I'm not dumb; of course I wasn't looking for a lifelong love in high school. But who doesn't want to be with someone who cares about you more than everyone else? Who always puts you first? Who’s always there for you, even when things seem hopeless? But every time it failed with someone, I felt a piece of my self-worth chipping away.
I wasn’t exactly popular growing up. More like a little under average, I guess, although I never really cared too much about it. I always liked having a small click of friends, anyways. I taught myself that I didn't need anyone's approval but my own, especially if I had to force it. If I was patient, the right people would come. And among those people, the best person would come.
And then Charlie appeared before me.
He opened a real weak spot in me, slipping right through the walls in my mind and making his way to a place where I felt helpless and insecure and pathetic. He pulled all of those emotions to the surface, but he didn't run from them, from me. He relished in them. He loved them, and he loved every inch of me. We went through a lot together, and over time he opened my mind and soul in a way no one else had done. And when he’d fallen and couldn’t find a way to get back up, I was the one who pulled him to his feet. Me. I was the one who helped him, who held his hand. I would've burned the world down for him if it meant he'd always be happy.
But it still didn't work out. No matter how much he loved me, it still wasn't right. No matter how much I loved him, I still couldn't have him. In fact, my love is what completely ruined him.
But now there's Mac, telling me that none of the break-ups were my fault. That what happened with Charlie wasn't my fault. I should feel relieved. Overjoyed. There's nothing wrong with me after all. I'm not unlovable or destined to be lonely for the rest of my life. I'm not missing that special something that all of my friends have. I'm not incomplete. And I didn’t ruin another person's life.
So, then...why do I still feel so empty inside?
I release another breath, feeling a headache coming. There’s a reason I haven’t had a drink in a while, and I’m an idiot for forgetting in the midst of my Mac drama. I rub my eyes and climb into bed, pulling the covers up to my nose. In a mere five minutes, I've managed to ruin my entire mood. I’m getting pretty good at doing that lately.
Please, Amber. Don't make me hurt you.
A sharp pain shoots through me as Charlie's voice echoes in my head. I sit up and the pain doubles. I groan, clutching my head. My heart is pounding, the blood in my head roaring, and my skin feels hot on my palms. Not now. Please, please not now.
Amber.
God, his timing is impeccable. What?
I feel you. What is wrong?
I'm absolutely perfect. Perfect perfect.
No response for a second. Stay there.
Wait-
The thought has barely left my head before a blast of hot air hits me in the face and he's standing at the foot of the bed. In seconds, his arms are reaching out for me. His hands cup my cheeks and turn me to fully face him.
"Amber," he breathes, creasing his brow.
"Mac?" I gasp, breaking into small giggles at the sight of him. It feels like it's been forever. "You got here so fast! You speedster!"
"You look awful.” He wrinkles his nose. “Calm down before you talk."
"How am I supposed to calm down when it feels like my skull is melting out of my ears?" I whine. "Melted skull, Mac! Do you know what a melted skull feels like?"
His eyebrows raise, but his voice is calm. "No, I do not. And neither do you. I need you to calm down."
"I’m totally calm," I wheeze. Sweat is beginning to form on my head, and my chest hurts from the heavy gasps I'm taking. I try to focus on the familiar coolness of his hands on my cheeks. "I’m just pissed off, but I promise I’m calm."
"Amber, you are not making sense." He grits his teeth, his eyes never leaving mine. "I do not think that this is due to the bond, for I feel nothing. Just now when I felt you, what were you thinking about?"
Charlie. "Nothing. I don’t think."
He releases my face, and my body aches for his touch again.
Mac reaches out and yanks the covers off of me with one hand. Scooping me up in his arms, he pulls me off the bed. He sits down on the ground, pulling me to his chest in his lap. His arms lock around my waist and legs, hugging me tight to him. Heart thumping, I slowly wrap one arm around his neck and place my other hand on his chest, feeling the hard plane of muscle there.
Why are you making me do this, Amber?
I want to rip my ears off, pull my brain out, do anything to get Charlie’s dumb, stupid voice out of my head. My shirt is slick with sweat now, and I'm seeing spots from the pain in my head. I'm going to vomit. I'm going to vomit. I'm going to-
"Amber." Mac's sharp voice brings me back to reality. “Stop. Whatever you are thinking, stop.”
I clutch his shirt in my fists, shuttering. Scrunching my legs up closer to my chest, I bury my face in the crook of his neck. His skin feels so cold, and it clears my mind a bit.
"I'm-I'm sorry." I choke on the words as I speak. "I’m so sorry. I don't know what's-"
"Do not hurt yourself by speaking anymore. Breathe first."
I look up at him. His eyes are shut, a calm look on his face. I breathe deeply in through my nose, and then slowly exhale.
I'm practically clinging to him, my shoulders shaking from choked sobs as I try and calm down. He smells like...I don't know what. But it's clean, and it's bright, and it's comforting. The second he showed up, I wanted to throw myself at him and bawl like a baby. I wanted him to hold me and tell me everything was alright. I don’t want to think about Charlie or anyone else. I don't want to think about anything but Mac's body pressed against mine.
Then, I feel something warm flow through me. Something brushing against my mind, smoothing itself over my very soul. I feel like I'm being filled, but the feeling is familiar and gentle.
When Mac finally speaks, his voice is soft. "Charlie."
I freeze mid-sob. "What?"
"Your mind is wide open right now. The bond is pulsing in a way I have never felt before," he remarks. "You were having thoughts of a man named Charlie, yes?"
A man named Charlie. How simple.
“You are…upset,” Mac continues, carefully. “Upset to the point that it has made you physically ill. I was unaware humans could-"
I stand then, pushing myself off of him. I don't need anything from him. It was stupid of me to expect him to do anything but his job. "It’s fine. Humans get upset all the time. It’s no big deal, I promise."
"I would dare to argue that this is a very big deal, Amber." He's standing in an instant, and he catches me by the wrist. "Your eyes are so red. Tell me why this happening to you."
I spin around so I don't have to look at him. "I'm perfectly fine, alright? I drank earlier, so I'm a little high-strung right now, but it's nothing for a cosmic being to freak out about. So just go back to your stupid little bed in Heaven and leave me alone."
"Amber." He sounds troubled, and he grips my wrist tighter. I feel that same warm brush from earlier in my mind, a little more intense now. Oh my God, he’s in my mind. "I do not understand-"
"No, you don't, Mac!" I shout, my voice cracking as I pull my arm away. I push against his breeze with my own mental winds, fierce and cold and biting. Push him farther and farther away. "You’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t understand a goddamn thing about anything! So just shut up and leave me alone!"
I don't want to see him right now. The more I look at him, the more I want to tell the truth. The more I want to tell him everything I've kept bottled up inside my entire life. He'd listen, too. He'd listen to everything I'd tell him and then he'd take my hands in his, making sure I was okay and-
No. I can't. Not with anyone, and certainly not with Mac because he's the whole fucking reason I'm like this. Even if he doesn’t understand the weight of what he's done, and he clearly doesn't, it’s his fault. It’s his fault.
No.
No, it’s my fault. Mac was simply there as a guide, but I walked down the paths myself.
It hurts looking at him. But it hurts to not talk to him, to hide from him.
I've got to get out of here.
My shouts are met with a heavy silence, and my voice seems to echo in the stillness. My mind is quiet. Alone. Slowly I turn back around. He's gone, as is his presence in my head. It’s like he was never there.
Good.
My mind is a fiery haze. Grabbing my jacket, I storm out of my room. I take the stairs two at a time and stumble outside, the cold night air hitting me instantly. Without a plan, I begin walking. I need to get out. Get out of that room, get out of my own head. A second more and who knows what would've happened.
I can't breathe, and I feel dizzy and nauseous. I dig my fingernails deep into my forearm, the pain slightly distracting me from the vicious thoughts swirling in my head as I march through the cold.
Pain is only temporary though. The past is forever. Unchanging.
My mind is already overflowing with memories I'd buried deep down, in a place I swore I'd never touch again. I grasp at them, swipe at them, beg them to please, please stay down. I don't want to see. Don't want to recall the pain. I know I won't be able to take it again.
But I'm losing the fight. The memories wash over me, the shock like a bucket of ice water to my face.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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Ooh, drama. Backstory time.
-Zuffy <3
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