Slayer 5

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"Hey, Xavier," I said. We were sitting in the violin room, me relaxing on a couch and staring outside at the view that never ceased to amaze me, while he wrote intently on some scraps of blank sheet music, leaning against the windows.

He glanced up from his seat on the floor. "Yes, Princess?"

"What do you want from me, anyways?"

He smiled faintly and bent his head over his paper again, his pencil scratching inaudibly as he marked out another line of notes. "I've told you already, ever since the beginning?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I grumbled.

He picked up his violin, which he'd set carefully beside him, and played a complicated string of notes. "How's that for a melody?" he mused, glancing down at his sheets of paper.

"Very nice," I commented. "But you're not supposed to answer a question with a question, even if it's about something else."

"What's wrong with that?" he asked, amused.

I made a face. "It's like you're a therapist or something. It's annoying."

"You've been to a therapist?"

"Mmhmm. After the...um..."

"The deaths. Don't be afraid to say it, Alexis."

"Yeah, that," I edged, still uncomfortable.

"You need to accept it, Princess," he said absently, erasing something and brushing the eraser crumbs off. "Even if you do avenge your family, if you still don't accept it, you'll never be able to move on."

I shrugged. "I'll get there eventually."

He lifted his head up to look me in the face, and I bit my lip. His bangs fell over his right eye endearingly, and I sort of wished I could go up to him and brush them out of his face. No, best if I stayed seated. "Princess, you'll have to."

"I will!" I said, not really meaning it. How could I? I couldn't just forget them...

He gave me a look of disapproval and returned his attention to his music. "Accepting their deaths doesn't mean forgetting them."

I stared at him. "How the hell did you know what I was just thinking?"

"I did?" he said in surprise, then shrugged. "I have my own demons too, you know."

"Demons?"

He wouldn't reply, his mouth a stiff line of regret from his slip, and I knew he wouldn't talk to me. I heaved a sigh. "Sorry for asking, you don't have to tell me."

He shook his head. "I don't want to tell you because...what you think. It's...not very pleasant."

I got up and sat down next to him, and he interlaced his fingers with mine. I didn't protest, taking pleasure from the simplicity of his skin against my skin, and tried not to squeeze his hand. That wouldn't be smart. "You can tell me, Xavier. I promise I won't freak out."

"You're tough enough, I guess, but it's not that." He averted his eyes, turning his face away from me, and I wished I could grip his chin and make him face me again.

"Then what is it?" I whispered.

"Maybe you wouldn't understand. Maybe you'd understand too much." His eyes were hollow, as if he was remembering agonizing events.

I gave in and pressed my other hand to his cheek in comfort, then withdrawing it hurriedly. "Xavier..."

He tried to smile at me reassuringly. "It's all right."

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