InterLife

Chapter 11

By the time Ambrose returned, I had taken a seat on the chaise longue on the left side of the room. It was placed in front of an immense window with white curtains, a string of lights hang above it and a handful of pillows filled nearly have of the luxurious sofa.

I had no idea why anyone would need so many pillows.

Ambrose found me lying backwards, staring at the ceiling, being flooded by memories as if every dam in my mind had exploded and the entire ocean of memories had been released. So many of those memories included the perceptive fern green eyes that hovered over me. Ambrose had taken a seat next to me and looked down at me. I noticed the bag of medical supplies on his bag and sighed.

"Please don't take this personal," I began, "but I think I might just patch myself up this time."

He feigned shock as he grabbed his chest with his hand. "Hold up, you have no faith in me? What did I do to deserve such an inconsiderate assumption?"

I pushed myself back up and raised a brow. "I don't know, perhaps it's the fact that your favorite hobby is shooting moving targets and that you actually shot and most likely killed three people today?"

"Pffff," was his genius reply. "Circumstantial evidence."

"Did you just 'pfff' me?" I replied and this time he fell backwards on the sofa. He placed the medical supplies next to him and remained quiet for a little while.

"What's on your mind?" I wondered as I stared at his face, down to his perfect jawline, down to his neck and his chest, hidden beneath a black long-sleeved shirt. When I had first met the siblings in game, I had been intimated by their attractiveness. I always reminded myself that it was just a game. That the twins were most likely regular, chubby underage boys with an appealing taste in male avatars. I had not expected them to actually be at least equally attractive, perhaps even more, in real.

It was.. distracting.

Especially since I knew so much about these guys. I knew their hobbies, their favorite colour, their likes and their dislikes. I knew Athan's undisclosed admiration for drawing and painting. I knew he loved writing letters and playing chess. I knew he and his brother both had found some kind of usual enjoyment in cooking. Just like I knew Ambrose loved stone-skipping and he had vowed to teach me someday. I knew he thoroughly enjoyed reading people, manipulating them and most of all; tricking them. It made him feel like he was untouchable, a genius in some way. Athanase cared less about being the greatest. He was a lot less arrogant than his brother, mainly because being selfish meant you had to care for yourself first. He wasn't very good at that either.

I knew them well enough, I could literally design a map to guide anyone through their unique personalities. After all, they had been my best friends, my family.. Well, Ambrose was. Athanase was an entirely different story.

I closed my eyes when I realized everything I knew, it was all past tense. I hadn't seen these men in nearly two years, and even though I kept forgetting, I knew they had changed. The walls I had managed to begin tearing down in the year we had known each other, they had not only been rebuilt but also increased in size.

Just like mine.

"You," Ambrose finally answered my question. "You're on my mind."

I shook my head and raised my hand to rub his forehead. "That sounds horrendous, quick, think about something else!"

He chuckled and his hand grasped my wrist as his eyes found mine. His fingers moved over the palm of my hand, rubbing soft circles into my skin.

"Sometimes I find it difficult to believe you're real," he admitted. "You look nothing like your avatar, you know that? You're a walking oxymoron. In game you looked menacing, dangerous and seductive. You looked unequivocally irresistible. Nonetheless, your personality and your actions were the opposite of that. You were affectionate, gracious and so, so incredibly goodhearted. However, you were equally naive and too delicate." He hesitated for a moment as just held my hand in his. I was at a loss for words while he read me like an open book.