Conflicted Eyes, Confusing Feelings | Complete

f o r t y - f i v e

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Philophobia

the fear of emotional attachment; of being in, or falling in love

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There was just something so ... relaxing about just sitting there in the rehearsal room, in each other's presence.

And for some reason, Sage had a difficulty concentrating on the notes he was jotting down in his notebook. As his gaze discretely flitted across the room for the fifth or sixth time in the space of five minutes, he caught Xander already looking at him.

To say that Sage's heart did three wild, off-knitter somersaults in his chest would be an understatement. The frustration etched so clearly into Xander's features faded just a bit, and when the ghost of a smile quirked the corners of Xander's lips, Sage glanced down, gulping.

It was all too much for him.

Dropping his head, he decided to pay attention to the words his hands had been sketching on their own accord.

Xander Love

The name was strewn all over the page of his notebook in different calligraphies, each of which was encased in erratically penned circles and heart shapes.

A gasp leaped out of Sage's mouth, and he wasted no time in ripping the page out, crushing it and stuffing it in his backpack. Smiling nervously, he met Xander's eyes again, to which he gave a small wave before sinking even further into the purple bean-bag. He tiredly rubbed his cheeks in an attempt to mask the redness that exploded there.

Mortifying...!

Preceding a few moments of overreaction, Sage felt himself relaxing. His gaze lazily dragged across the room, to the windows which were thrown open, permitting a flush of light and fresh air to tumble in and permeate the entire room. White silk curtains danged from the rods above, billowing in the cool air that flowed through.

Sage stretched his arms and legs for a moment before flopping back onto the bean-bag, grabbing his pen and pencil. There, he resumed writing.

Dear Love,

This time, thankfully, his eyes didn't stray too much.

Minutes dragged on with Sage just writing, but the humidity of the room soon took its toll on him, making him comfortably adjust in his seat after tucking his notebook beneath him. Through half-lidded eyes, he stared at the ceiling for who knows how long before a slamming sound made him jolt in surprise. He peered over in the direction the sound had come from to see that Xander's hand had stopped moving against the canvas. Instead, he was chewing on his lower lip and grabbing at his hair, sighing heavily.