And If You Tell My Heart...

[misa]

She wasn't nervous.
It was just a party, right?
Just the people she saw every single day in school dressed up.
Just music playing and people dancing.
Just...something she never did. She was, oh, how was it put?

A social reject.

Not through choice, mind. There had just never been time for events that involved her talking to people her own age. Now Ceremonial Dinners, she could deal with. Affairs where she only had to sit and smile in a sort of aloof, distant manner that fitted a leader, that was something she had down. But a dance?

She checked her reflection for the millionth time in the reflective glass of the foyer front, adjusting the sleeves of her dress again. She felt so...undressed. There was only one dressmakers in Cardsdale, and it wasn't that she'd expected anything else, but it didn't appear they were capable of making a dress that didn't have at least one crucial part missing - the sleeves. Of course no one Misa's age wore dresses with sleeves, not for something like this, but for Misa there was no alternative - there just wasn't. She'd been close to just forgetting about the whole dress idea, considering her only options were made for the comfort of the over fifties, when she'd finally found something that seemed as though it were made for her.

It was simple, sophisticated, but not too mature. It came in her colour of choice (black, of course) and was pretty affordable. But none of that was particularly important. Because it was sold to Misa the second she saw the design.

A choker style neck that fasten with a silk tie at the back, covering her throat. Her shoulders were bare, and her chest was covered entirely (not that she had much to speak of in that department anyway), but this coverage slipped away as the back of the dress dipped to the nape of her back, folding in a loose crimped manner elegantly at either side. It was floor length, however the demure suggestion of innocence this created was quickly erased by the slit which almost ran the whole extent of her left leg. And finally, what made it the dress for her, were two simple twist of silken material, flowing from the tie at the back, running the length of the underside of her arm and down into delicate bracelets around her wrists. Covering her scars. The material of the dress itself felt like water brushing against her skin, it was beautiful...she just wished she could compare to it.

She'd even decided to wear her hair down, down for pity's sake! She had actually asked Sophie to curl it for her. Of course Sophie had obliged, it seemed to be her mission in life to make everyone externally beautiful and now her hair sat in loose ringlets. She was actually wearing make-up! Speaking of which, she was biting her bottom lip and tried to make herself stop, she was going to take off all her carefully applied lipgloss. Two things she never did. Ever. And yet she was doing them. Why?

Simple - because she wanted Dylan to look at her and see her as beautiful as the dress she was wearing. She wanted him to see her the way every other guy saw that girl, Sophie.

But Sophie had something she didn't; Sophie had confidence. Sophie was beautiful, not just pretending. Misa had the feeling she probably looked like a skinny man in drag. But she didn't have time to go back and change that now, Dylan would be here any second...

[Dylan Woods.]

Dylan Woods had never been to a dance in his life. And of course, he was inexplicably nervous. He couldn't believe he'd willingly put himself forward for this. Dylan sat on his bed, biting his thumb nail of his left hand and gazing at his reflection in the mirror door of his wardrobe. He didn't look too bad. He thought his hair looked stupid, tied at the nape of his neck, actually brushed and in some sort of order. His clothes... well... He hated them. But he was more of a jeans and a t-shirt sort of guy, so that he had expected from the start. He was wearing a black shirt, open at the neck to reveal his smooth, porcelain skin with a pair of black trousers. The trousers felt strangely stiff and the new shoes he had bought especially for this occasion looked idiotically shiney. But that was simply his opinion of the matter, it was Misa's opinion that really counted. He stood up and strode over to his mirror. "It's show time, D." he muttered to his reflection. He grabbed his simple black formal jacket from the back of the door and began making his way to the hotel.

Dylan had only ever seen movies of people going to formals or "proms" as they called them in the movies. So he'd felt obligated to buy some sort of flower. He was bringing Misa a single red rose with a black ribbon tied elegantly in a bow. As well as that he had bought her a necklace; a small silver heart with a garnet stone set at the left side on a delicate silver chain. Sure, it had set him back around $90 but it would be worth it if she liked it. He sat in his taxi, looking out the window. He was chewing on his bottom lip and worrying; what if he looked like a complete and utter pillock? What would Misa say? Nothing? Something? Just laugh? He didn't know. The very thought sent a shiver down his spine - and not a good one. The taxi stopped. Dylan thrust some 20 dollar bills in the taxi drivers hand and got out quickly. He walked too fast and stumbled slightly. Then he simply stopped and stared up at the hotel and took a deep breath.

Just as Dylan was nearing the door he saw her. Misa. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his whole life. His heart skipped a beat. She was wearing a stunning dress. His stomach tied itself in knots; he looked awful and she looked amazing. She's beautiful enough for both of us. He thought to himself contentedly. He clutched his rose and the necklace box close to his jacket as he walked over. Calm down, he told himself silently, She loves you. She won't care that you look like a fool. Every nerve in his body tingled as he approached her, feeling her aura closer to him, seeing the beautiful naked flesh of her back and the curls in her ebony hair. He drew up silently behind her and touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Misa?" he said, to get her attention. The sweet scent of perfume was dancing around her. "You look... radient. No. No, that doesn't even cover it." He was stumbling over his words now, "I don't think words cover how beautiful you look." he smiled at her, and kissed her softly on the lips. Oh how he loved her.

[misa]

The gentle unfamiliar warmth of a hand on her bare shoulder, the soft question - he recognised her as well as she recognised her reflection (i.e. not in the slightest),
"Misa?" Made her jump. Her heart raced unnecessarily, just like every other time she saw him. Only this time it froze first, as though it, just like her brain, had to take a few moments to register the fact that he was just so incredible, and he wanted her? "You look... radient. No. No, that doesn't even cover it." Radiant. That was the moment, the second that the word left his lips, that was the one where her heart lurched back into its unsteady rhythm again."I don't think words cover how beautiful you look." His tongue seemed to trip over the words slightly, but that only proved they were from the heart - spontaneous; a lot like love.

Speaking of which... He leaned forward ever so gently placing a kiss on her lips and for a second she realised how ludicrous wearing lipgloss actually was, but then she didn't care, she didn't care about anything. Because he was kissing her and the world fell away and she didn't mind because they were still there, together. Oh, how she loved him.

The warmth of his hands on her bare skin...it felt strange. But not a bad strange; far from it. No one had held her like that, so she could feel it, before Dylan. She had always hidden away beneath her jacket; if you couldn't feel you couldn't be hurt. And now she could never imagine not wanting him holding her like this ever again. There was no place for it in her life anymore...

[Arihant]

From the moment he had heard... heard that song he had been fairly sure that the evening would be a disaster. He didn't really know why - well, he did, but he didn't want to think about it. "Our lips can touch," for God's sake. Who writes stuff like that? It was like the d@mn thing had been written specifically to piss him off.

And looky here, he was right.

Although, come on, really, what had he expected? What sort of freak accepts a girl's invitation to a dance and then doesn't dance with her? Granted, he did have ample reason to be doing so, but it wasn't like she knew that. All she could know was that she was being blown off, and by God, he could tell that she didn't like it.

Half an hour ago, it had been fine. Well, he'd felt like he'd been physically slapped when the song came on, and so had barely noticed Kira's hand gently leading him away from Lee and Madeleine (which just went to show how far he was gone, really, because at any other time physical contact like that would cause him to go through any one of hundreds of mortifying reactions.) He'd almost been in a daze...

Then, of course, her offer of punch brought him straight back to earth. She seemed to be pretty good at keeping him in the real world, come to think of it. It was harder to zone out when he was talking to her.

...Was that a good thing? He couldn't even tell.

And having been brought sufficiently into the real world, he had spent the past half hour trying to... Well, he didn't know what he had been trying to do, now he thought back over it. Just try to bear it, maybe. He hadn't been much help when the conversation had dwindled - his brain had just - just frozen or something, he didn't know - he hadn't been able to think of a single topic to bring up or anything to ask her about -

And anyway, what right do you have to ask her anything? You idiot. You shouldn't have even come.

Now, they had been sitting in silence for ten minutes. She wouldn't even look at him any more. She just - he didn't know what to do, she was just sitting there, tapping her foot impatiently with her arms crossed - Seriously, what was he supposed to do about something like that? He hadn't even spoken to people properly for four years, let alone dealing with- with girls...

God, he was Such. A. Loser.

Well, he had to try and do... do something, though. At least, he thought he did.

He didn't know what it was, but... Well, it hurt. A little bit. Seeing her angry like that, and knowing that it was his fault. And that it was because of What He Was, as per usual. She didn't deserve to have this night ruined just because he was a freak of nature. She deserved to have had a better date than him. She deserved... he didn't know. Something incredible. Someone incredible.

Someone who wasn't him.

But she was stuck with him for now, so he'd have to try and fix it, at least a little bit. If he could.

He cleared his throat, trying, misguidedly to break the silence, but it didn't work remarkably well.

Well, here goes. He looked down at the table. It was at least a little easier that way.

"A-Are you all right?" His voice was so quiet. So weak.

He was so pathetic.

[Kira & Lee Norris]

Was she alright?
Alright?
Did she bloody look alright?!
Okay, sure, fine, she'd asked him out, right? Okay, sure, fine, she hadn't even done that, oh no, she'd said... what had she said?
"We could go as friends. It'll be fun."
Fun! Hah! This was a far, far cry from that. Kira had been so excited too. That's why she'd gone to such an effort. Stupid, really, looking back on it, since the effort was a waste anyway. Every girl here was about a hundred times prettier than her, and that wasn't even the point.
This wasn't meant to be about her being pretty.
They were friends. Friends didn't make that kind of effort for each other.
So why did she want to be pretty?! Why was she doing this for him?
And why wasn't he doing it for her?
He wasn't even making an excuse. That was probably the worst part. And Kira hated it that she was sitting there, whilst Madeline and Lee were up on the dance floor, spinning around the place. And he kept kissing her. It was actually beginning to get on her nerves. For god's sake, did they ever stop kissing? Didn't they feel awkward? Apparently not. And if they kept pecking the other's lips in public, in private-
Christ Almighty. She was never, ever going to kiss her cousin again.
That was just dirty.
Arihant was still looking at her with his big, broken brown eyes, like a little puppy who didn't understand why its owner had shouted at it. Well, it was an improvement. At least he'd spoken; better than the stony silence that'd being sitting like a dead weight around them both for the past ten minutes. Just ten? It felt like a hundred. The conversation had just died, and it frustrated her that it'd found it so easy to kill itself. And Arihant had made no effort to bring some life back into it. She had. But the guy hadn't even tried. Just looked at her.
Looked at her with those big broken eyes, wondering why on earth Kira was annoyed with him.
It was a dance.
You were supposed to dance.
Lee had asked Madeleine to dance almost every single dance with him.
Arihant hadn't asked Kira to dance at all with him.
So was she alright?
"No, Arihant," she said coldly. "I am not alright. Or am I not being particularly obvious about it?"

[Arihant]

That was clear, then. Painstakingly so. She was more than just irritated, she was furious.

And of course, it was his fault. His fault, as usual. Arihant, the walking awkward silence, the living faux pas, the last person who should ever have agreed to go to this dance with her, even if it was just as "friends." God, if they were friends then it would be OK. They could probably have talked for the past half an hour easily and he could have made some easy excuse not to dance that she would have accepted because it would be plausible and not make him sound like he was the slimy, undeserving scumbag that he actually wa-

No. No, but that wouldn't happen. Not to him.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe he should just leave it how it was. After all, he'd be leaving tomorr-

Well, he still wasn't decided on that. Not 100%. But he should leave tomorrow.

It was better this way. It was better if she hated him. Jesus, how could he just forget what he was? Why did he have this overriding wish - the most stupid wish that anyone on this planet had ever had, clearly - for her to like him? Not just her, people in general. He'd barely spoken to anyone since he'd come here, but those he had spoken to - he hadn't purposefully tried to make them dislike him, he hadn't just left, he'd tried to be friendly. Granted, that had backfired horribly in some cases (the training room with Misa sprang to mind...) but that didn't change what he was doing.

He was sick.

So. What could he do to fix it? And of course, by "to fix it" he meant "to make absolutely sure that he could leave this place tomorrow without a backward glance." "To make sure that no one would miss him." "To make Kira... to make Kira hate him."

Well, something sprang directly to mind, didn't it? Tell her the truth.

It was so simple, now that he thought of it. No one who knew the truth about what he really was could ever want to be friends with him. No one who knew the truth wouldn't want him to leave. No one who knew the truth would ever be hurt because he couldn't dance with them.

She deserved an explanation. By God, he didn't know why she deserved an explanation, and he didn't know why he felt foolhardy enough to give it to her, but in some part of him he knew that that was what she deserved. And yes, it would hurt. He knew that it would hurt if she ran away from him in fear, if she cried, if she screamed... That would hurt more than made sense right now. But still.

A cold, metallic taste spread over his tongue. Fear of his very own. He was going to do it. Going to tell her.

He'd never told anyone before. Sure, Nurse Gornray had known, but that wasn't by any decision of his. He'd never voluntarily told this to anyone. It had been his secret for four years - ever since the day Mohana's life ended and Arihant was born. He didn't know if he could do it.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezed his eyes closed, and sighed. This was going to be hard.

"I'm sorry," he said, after a long pause, his voice lower and faster than it had been before. "I'm sorry, I-

"I can explain."

He stood up, and gestured for her to do the same, to follow him. He didn't see what her reaction was - he found that he couldn't look at that expression on her face for more than a few seconds without feeling like he was a complete and utter b*stard, the lowest of the low. Of course, he deserved to feel like that, but... It wasn't great. But she did follow him. Clearly incredulously, but still. She followed him.

In a couple of minutes (it took Arihant a long time to traverse the dance floor, trying hard as he could to avoid the flailing, scantily clad arms) they had left the hotel, and were in Cardsdale Square.

[Dylan Woods.]

Mar 6, 2008 19:48:36 GMT @misa said:

The gentle unfamiliar warmth of a hand on her bare shoulder, the soft question - he recognised her as well as she recognised her reflection (i.e. not in the slightest),
"Misa?" Made her jump. Her heart raced unnecessarily, just like every other time she saw him. Only this time it froze first, as though it, just like her brain, had to take a few moments to register the fact that he was just so incredible, and he wanted her? "You look... radient. No. No, that doesn't even cover it." Radiant. That was the moment, the second that the word left his lips, that was the one where her heart lurched back into its unsteady rhythm again."I don't think words cover how beautiful you look." His tongue seemed to trip over the words slightly, but that only proved they were from the heart - spontaneous; a lot like love.

Speaking of which... He leaned forward ever so gently placing a kiss on her lips and for a second she realised how ludicrous wearing lipgloss actually was, but then she didn't care, she didn't care about anything. Because he was kissing her and the world fell away and she didn't mind because they were still there, together. Oh, how she loved him.

The warmth of his hands on her bare skin...it felt strange. But not a bad strange; far from it. No one had held her like that, so she could feel it, before Dylan. She had always hidden away beneath her jacket; if you couldn't feel you couldn't be hurt. And now she could never imagine not wanting him holding her like this ever again. There was no place for it in her life anymore...

Dylan's heart was racing. He wasn't completely sure what combination of things was quickenming his pulse and sending the butterflies in his stomach into a fit of craziness. Maybe it was the nerves of going to a formal, maybe it was the fact Misa looked so breathtakingly-beautiful, maybe it was the fact he was so close to her. He guessed it was probably a mixture of the three. He didn't know what to do or say now. He just looked at her; feeling the stickiness of her lipgloss on his lips, smelling her sweet perfume, hearing the seconds tick past and the love in the air. He just wanted to freeze time and stand in that moment for ever.

Dylan suddenly jumped slightly, "I almost forgot." he started, he lifted the hand holding the rose and the necklace box and offered them to her. "Happy Valentines day." he told her with a charming smile playing on his lips. He wanted her to love them, he wanted her to be happy. He wanted to have done somthing right and for the night to go perfectly. He wished upon every star in the sky that the night would go perfectly and then held his breath, waiting to see what she would make of his gifts.

[misa]

Photograph moments. Scenes that were picture perfect; the ones that stuck with you for all time. The kind that sat on the mantelpiece of your mind, helping you to smile even in the darkest moments during the days of your life - those times when you were pretty sure the foundations you'd built your world on were obliterated; that mantelpiece would be left standing among the smouldering wreck, as solid and sure as England to let you know you could rebuild it all again. Misa had just captured her first. She would always remember how his skin felt so warm, how pale and handsome he looked....like the strong moonlight under which she'd first meet him. Somehow she just knew that when she shut her eyes from that moment and thought of him this would be the image that would spring to mind.

She was utterly caught up in the moment, caught up in him and his gentle reassuring smell and the fluttering breeze that was drifting lazily by and...and therefore she jumped almost sky high as he moved unexpectedly too. Her heart sank as he moved back, perhaps he'd remembered himself, she'd often heard boys could all too easily get lost in the moment, and the rest of the night was going to be awkward, both of them being embarrassed about their own delusions, regardless of the fact that his had only been temporary and hers clearly ran deeper...
"I almost forgot," he started.
Yeah, you almost forgot that I'm actually hideous and no amount of Sophie's magic or clever outfits can fix that, Misa thought sadly, carefully arranging her features to prevent a speck of sadness showing although she couldn't stop her eyes fading to a dull brown.
"Happy Valentine's Day," He told her and a smile, so dazzling Edward Cullen would have been put to shame lit up his features, as he held a small velvet box and a single red rose out to her.

Misa couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped her as she intrepidly opened the lid of the little box, her fingers trembling slightly as she fumbled the catch. It opened with a tiny sigh that mirrored the one Misa's heart made as she took in the beautiful silver necklace within. It sat perfectly at ease in the blue silk lining of the box, the epitome of elegance without effort. A fine linked chain, which held a delicate curved pendant. It was breathtaking, really and truly. And the rose...a traditional symbol of love and passion and everything she felt for him. And he was giving it to her, he felt the same.

She couldn't live like this. Every other girl seemed to find it easy to believe that a boy loved her, so why couldn't Misa? Why couldn't she get over the immense feeling of painful inadequacy that set on her heart like a rabid dog on a defenceless rabbit, frightened out into the open. He told her he loved her...all she had to do was believe him; believe in him.

So she would. And just like that her mind seemed clearer than it had in a very long time, her heart felt lighter; someone, Dylan, had tamed the wild animal that was ripping her soul to pieces.

He told her she was beautiful...
So she would be beautiful for him, because he told her she was and he wouldn't lie to her, he wouldn't hurt her - he'd said so, hadn't he?

It all made sense, but none at all in the same moment., in that quirky way life had of falling to pieces and into place in the same split second.

"Oh, Dylan," She murmured, slowly wrapping her arms round his neck and kissing him again. She felt dizzy, but so clear headed, drunk on the love in the air. Her hands traced their way up the back of his neck, slipping into his dark hair of their own accord holding him closer still and still not close enough. Her heart was racing dangerously fast and she was glad, so glad - it told her she was alive; that here and now, this was real.

Breaking the kiss for a moment she whispered against his lips the only response she trusted herself to make,
"Happy Valentine's Day,"