MiHar OS - Come Undone

summary: the rules are simple - fight or flight. too bad, she's never been one to put up much of a fight.

She should have just left.

But her courage like her luck had really bad timing. It had been luck that had landed her in this position to begin with but then it had been her luck again that had resulted in that video that night. It turned from good to bad and then back to good again, like an unfaithful lover, giving her a whiplash and she was having a really hard time figuring out which was which.

Was that recording of her dance a good thing or bad. It was why she was in Goa after all, it was also why she was standing here in this academy before him. But it was also the reason she hadn't just run out of this room once he'd taken his eyes off her and turned his back on her. She should have, she really wanted to but then that fickle courage had reared its head and she was so surprised by it that she had had no choice but to given in and listen. Hers was such a flighty thing after all.

Besides, she was leaving soon and this might be her only chance to do what she had wanted to since the moment she had stepped into this academy. It was the right thing to do, she knew that and she might never get a chance to do it again. And so she stayed. Against her better sense, against the ever present warning bells that seemed to go off every single time he looked at her ever since he had asked her to dance and she'd faltered.

She stayed even though he had been scaring her lately, the way he looked at her unnerving her, making her want to run away, hide herself. His gaze was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Heavy, laden and uncomfortable. Piercing like he could see through her to her soul, yet confused like nothing he saw made any sense, like he couldn't understand anything he was seeing at all. So he looked harder, more in tune and aware whenever she was around, like she was the only one in the room, the entire axis of his concentration and focus zeroed in on her as if she was the only thing he saw in the world. Some days she felt like she would burn to the ground if she stayed around long enough. On others, it left her feeling disoriented and wound, like a spring pressed too tight. Always, it made her extremely conscious and eager to flee. Made her want to disappear, find an escape, to steal herself from his eyes before he figured it all out.

She remembers being an open book, living carefree and transparent with nothing to hide. But that was in the past, and sometimes, it seemed almost a lifetime ago. Before she'd known. Before she'd discovered. Before he had existed for her. But all that had changed with him, because of him, due to him. And he didn't even know. And she never wanted him to find out.

Never wanted him to find out that ever since he had become a part of her life, wherever he was concerned, whether it was in the dance videos she watched secretly, or nights out hoping to catch a glimpse of him or a summer job in his academy - his mere presence turned her entire existence around. When it came to him, she was always covered in a cloak of secrets and lies. And he had started looking at her like he could see through them all.

But he wasn't looking at her right now, and her courage was back - this was the perfect time. She could finally rid herself of the words she had been trying to swallow for days, relieve herself of the heaviness weighing down her tongue, her steps, her mind. Maybe then the fire in his gaze would simmer down, maybe then she could breathe normally again. Return back to her life feeling the same way she had when she had walked into his, before she knew how her few casual moments of carefree fun had left impressions on his.

The apology stutters off her lips. She has rehearsed these words a thousand times in her head, but out loud, they almost sound incoherent, cascading out in their hurry to get heard. She doesn't know how long she has with him, doesn't know when he'll stop their flow and she needs to get as many out as she can. She doesn't expect him to acknowledge them, doesn't even expect him to acknowledge her but then she sees him turn, get up and start to approach her. The sirens in her head are going off again and the urgency rises. Her words become louder. She needs to hear them said more than he needs them heard.

She can't seem to stop talking and it surprises her. It must surprise him too. That's the only reason he would take her hand in his. For someone who had a difficult time even looking straight at him, here she was standing before him, not scurrying away, not going quiet, actually doing what she had wanted to before him. It's serves as an invitation for him to do the same.

She's getting lightheaded. The relief rushing through her veins is mingling with confusion. They're suddenly dancing. And it's unexpected and odd and a heavy rush and she's flying. She's always loved dancing, its where she finds herself but when its with him, in his arms, she loses all her bearings, all semblance of her being. She becomes whatever, whoever he wishes her to be, too overwhelmed, too entranced, too astonished to do anything else. With him around, she forget everything she tries so hard to remember about herself, remind herself - her goals, her family, her future - everything dissolves under his intensity, his passion, his madness until there is just here and now, just her and him.

She feels hot and cold and trapped and free. She's still talking but she isn't stuttering anymore, she isn't thinking anymore either. His close proximity making it hard for her to concentrate, to control the words, unpracticed, unsupervised words to stumble out. She has no control over her body, her thoughts, her tongue. All her restrains are crumbling around her but she doesn't care, can't bring herself to.

It's as if she is under a spell, trapped under his all-seeing gaze pinning her down. They don't let her lie, hide or run. Hot, molten and unforgiving, his eyes accept nothing less than everything, her complete honesty, devotion, her. All of it, all of her. And she hasn't ever been one to refuse out right, to put up much of a fight.

She knows he's already made up his mind and she's only got two choices, only two outcomes she's left to decide - to burn out or fade away. And while she's never been one for dramatic gestures and grand escapes - there is really only one way left for her to get out of this unscarred, only one way left to save the life she's got around herself.

It weighs heavily on her mind, and as he's dipping her down, she lets out her intense need for flight. To get away from him, this, them. Because he knows as well as she does. If she gives in, if she stays, he'll soak her up, swallow her whole and consume her until she's nothing but a shell of who she was and embodiment of everything he desires.

What she doesn't know, doesn't foresee, doesn't realise is that her flight is pitted against his fight. And in the game of life, only the fittest survive.

- fin -