Eventually

Chapter Twelve

A.N. REGULAR UPDATES AGAIN! (Same for Picture This, of which the latest chapter I released was made PRIVATE by WATTPAD and it's RIDICULOUS attempts to CENSOR ME!!!)

Anyway, this chapter was a great one to write for me. I've cast Kara Scodelario as Amber Bambrough. Things are gonna go ape after this one guys, trust Clay. Or don't. Probably don't. Xoxo.

Chapter Twelve

June 18th 1999 - Arthur Valgari

I'd been sitting on the steps of the house for what seemed like the whole night. It couldn't have been too long, because the party was still raging inside. Music was blasting. People came out for fresh air or a smoke every once in a while, but other than that, I spent my time sitting on the long stone-hard steps that lead up into Millicent Mountbatten's big, ugly house. Alone, not sure why I hadn't left yet, why I hadn't ran home and walled myself up in my room.

The air stung that night, nibbling at the ends of my fingers and my ears, my nose. It was dark all around me, not that I really gave a shit. I felt a numbness all over my body, watching my breath leave my mouth in long, steamy gasps of air that floated up into the empty sky.

I couldn't stop thinking about him, that was the worst part. He was probably fucking that girl right now, and who could blame her? She'd just bagged one of the best people in the world. I couldn't hold it against her, that she liked him. It's hard not to like someone like Freddie. It was just jealousy, burning all over my body. Rejection. A silent rejection. Of course, he'd be too nice to ever tell me to my face, but I knew exactly what it meant.

I saw what it meant in his eyes, when he looked straight through me. A quiet admission. He was finally done with me, and I never even saw it coming. Or maybe I did, I couldn't care to tell.

"You alright?" she asked. I didn't bother looking, I recognised the voice easily. That same voice had called out my name, moaned it, screamed it over and over and over a dozen times before.

"Fine," I bit at her. "You can fuck off now."

"Wow, sorry, didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," I insisted, turning so she couldn't see my face, so she couldn't see the obvious lie I was trying to hide.

"You're crying," I heard her say.

My fingertips flew up to my face, to touch under my eyes. I felt a warm wetness there, and sighed. Maybe I'd been crying all night, I couldn't remember. I just remembered the lingering numbness, all over, and the cold, how it hit me so hard.

Crying came so easily to me now. Before, I hardly ever cried. In a way, I was emotionless. Or, I was just good at pretending to be. Now, I felt all the control I had slipping through my fingertips like sand, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. No matter how hard I tried t stay in control, I just couldn't.

"Why are you crying, Arthur?" Amber Bambrough asked.

"What's it to you?" I wiped at my eyes, trying to harden myself up faster. I used to my sleeve, dabbing at my under-eyes, sniffling. I didn't like people seeing me cry. I didn't like crying at all. Showing weakness, it just disgusted me. Made me sick with myself.

"Nothing," she admitted. "But if it's okay, do you mind if I sit here?" I didn't turn my face to look at her, until that moment. She hadn't really changed, since last I saw her, when I found out she'd been cheating on me with middle-aged men. Her hair still flowed lengthily over her shoulders, a soft, honeyed brown. Her face, still petite, still as untrustworthy as ever. But still hot.

"Sit where you want, no one's going to stop you."

She dropped onto the step beside me, kicking off her silvery high heels to softly massage her own feet. "These have been killing me all night," she smiled.