Fifty Shades Different

Chapter Two

The rest of my evening went by in a blur, we arrived at Aunt Elena's house, which is a lot larger than I remember. She showed me around the, more than extravagant house, and to my bedroom. My bedroom here is at least three times the size of the bedroom I had at home, it also has a conjoined bathroom. I spend the remainder of my night going through my fully stocked closed, much of it I would never wear, and writing in my journal. I suppose to some people writing in a journal may seem childish, but to me it's a sense of stability. My mother bought me my first journal when I was ten, right before she left my Dad, because I had decided I wanted to become a writer. Even though my course has changed I still write, because sometimes these pages are the only thing I have. I made my way down the stairs a little after ten, I stopped dead in my tracks when I hear my name spoken softly through the thin walls.
"I worry about Anastasia, Christian." Elena says earnestly, I frown, I didn't know she worried. Aside from my slight episode earlier, I thought I was playing my part quite well.
"What exactly happened in the crash?" Christian asks, his voice soft exposing his pity for me, I blanched on the last word.
"Don't pretend you didn't read up on her when you received her background check, Christian. Oh, fine. I'll humor you. She has just barely turned eighteen, Ray has always made her promise that she would never drink and drive, as any good parent would. That night she called Ray to come get her, she was three sheets to the wind," Elena started the story, I strained to hear every word, I went down the remaining eight stairs, sitting down as quietly as possible and leaning my head against the wall.
"So she'd been drinking?" Christian interrupted, I rolled my eyes at him, fully aware that no one could see me, like he could talk. I didn't drink often, but sometimes I just needed something to get my mind off of certain things. After a moment Christian changes his question, "Why didn't she live with her mother? She was never particularly close to Ray growing up, from my understanding."
"For your information, Ana and Ray had quite the bond while you kids were growing up and besides that, a lot of things happened to her living with Carla, if Ana wants to confide that information to you she can; but it's not my place to tell you for her. As far as the drinking goes you, of all people, should not be talking about underage drinking." Elena's voice is cold, defensive, Christian stays silent for a long moment , when he speaks again he sounds much less accusatory.
"What happened to her?" His voice is soft and somewhat worrisome, if I didn't know him better I would think he was actually concerned.
"Christian... if Ana wants to tell you about those things, she will. It's not my place however I will tell you this; I was wrong to tell you to leave her be, she really needed you." Elena's voice is sad and repenting, I freeze, why would Elena tell Christian to leave me alone? And the question that bothered me more, why would he listen to her?
"Well I can't take it back now, Anastasia is not the forgiving type." Christian's voice is cold and unyeilding, "She doesn't need my shit. Regardless what happened in the crash?"
"Ray came to get her," she began the rest of the story, I didn't need to hear it I remembered all to well on my own, but I couldn't bring myself to move. "On their drive back to their home, a 'drunk driver,' swerved into their lane, hit them head on. Ray died on impact." I flinched as she spoke the last sentence, she continued. "Ana was unconscious, they were unsure if she would make it. I happened to be in Virginia, visiting Carla and her husband actually, when it happened. I was the one that answered the door when the State Trooper came to the door about Carla and Steven, I didn't even know about Ana until I got to the hospital."
"Carla was in the other car," Christian recalls, it was my mother as well as her husband and their son, my little brother. Steven was the only one to survive.  
I could take no more, I made my way back up the stairs, grabbing my battered copy of Wuthering Hieghts off the night stand. It wasn't more than ten minutes and I heard a low, timid even, knock on the door. Let me tell you, when I opened that door, I expected it to be the maid, or even Elena checking up again. I expected it to be anyone but Christian Travelyan-Grey, never the less there he stood. He gave me his classic tight lipped smile that never quite reaches his eyes, I forced a small smile of my own in return. Sometimes puberty is a wonderful thing, and that sometimes applied very well to Christian. He has easily grown up to become the most attractive man I've ever met, his hair was still the same beautiful shade of copper. His jaw boxed off in that way that made some people look rediculous; but on him it just made his facial features seem more defined. He clearly works out on a regular basis, you can tell through his white linen t-shirt. But most of all his eyes, they still hold that same intensity that they always have, their still that same beautiful molten grey color.
"It's been a long time Anastasia," he says casually, I smile shyly, feeling the blush steal across my cheeks.
"Apparently too long," I whispered, he frowns at me as if he's not sure that I mean that; from that I see his insecurities haven't changed at all.
"Can we talk?" He asks in a small voice, before finishing in a voice sounding much more Christianian. "About your internship of course."
"Sure," I say before adding, teasingly, "I wasn't aware that you made house calls."
"I was in the neighborhood," he says, smiling genuinely at me. "Elena tells me you've been drinking," he seems weigh his words quite carefully. I haven't drank alcohol, not one drop, since that night. It bothers me so much that if I hadn't called Ray it may have been me instead of him. That he could still be living his life, sometimes I think that maybe that would have been what was best. 
"Had been drinking," I snapped back glaring at him, I don't want to talk about this, especially not with him. "That's one of those words we use in the past tense, Christian. I know you were never good at English but you really should brush up on it. Also, I'm failing to see where exactly that has anything to do with my internship"  
"Well it could very well have something to do with whether or not you would pass a drug test," He shoots back, I literally felt my mouth drop as I gape at him, completely infuriated, Christian cocks his head to the side seeming perplexed by my current expression.
"I don't do drugs, Christian." I snap, he looks at me; seeming suprised by my tone. I look down at my hands, which are knotted together in front of me, embarrased by my adolecent anger. He takes a few steps in my general direction, afraid, I take a step back. By his exspression I can see my actions have only confused him further.
"You're still angry with me I see." He murmers petulantly, I know instantly he's referring to when he severed all ties he had with me; I shake my head quickly.
"I'm not angry," I assure him, and I mean it very much, "I heard you and Elena speaking downstairs, some of it anyway. I want to know why, just please Christian, why would you listen to her."
"I can't tell you," He murmurs, his jaw clenching, letting me know this isn't something he wants to tell me about. Well too bad, I honestly believe that after seven years I deserve to know the truth.
"You act as if you had no choice in the matter," I grumble scowling in frustration at him, he's playing the victim I can see. "You should take responsibility; for once." My voice is much colder than I mean for it to be, my exasperation showing clear in my voice.
"And what if I didn't Anastasia?" He shouts menacingly at me, I roll my eyes at him confused, what in the hell is he talking about? He stalks towards me, and this time something about his stance frightens me immensely. He raises his hands just slightly, and for a terrifying moment I remember. I go to take a step back from him but instead I stumble backwards, over my own feet probably. I hit the ground, knocking my head, very hard, against my bedside table.
"Fucking Christ, Ana!" He kneels down to help me, I thought, but instead he scoops me up as if I weigh nothing and sits me down on my bed. "Let me see," he orders sternly, when I make no move, he adds more forcefully, "to be sure that you aren't bleeding."
I shake my head, but still lift my throbbing skull from the pillow, pressing my fingers gently against the vocal point of the pain. I'm relieved when I find that there is no blood, I look up to find Christian frowning at me. I try my best to act as though I'm not a clumsy mess, a little late for that, my subconscious snaps at me.
"Why did you step back?" He asks, confused again, but then manages to successfully put two and two together on his own. "You thought I was going to hit you?"

I shrug, done with the talking, I felt silly. He shakes his head standing to his feet, my eyes following him. He begins to silently pace the floor before my bed, refusing to look at me.

"Christian..." I whisper, scared he'll yell again, he ignores me, seeming to be lost in thought; I scowl at him. "Christian." I say, more forcefully this time.
 "Whats happened to you, Anastasia? Why would you believe, even for a second, that I would hit you?"He says stopping immediately, to turn and look in my direction. 
"Christian... Nothing happened. I- I..." I stammer at a complete loss for words, attempting to make him feel better but not knowing how. "Honestly? It's none of your god damned business Christian, besides I asked you first."
"Tell me," He murmurs in a quiet demanding voice, I bite my lip, peeking up at him through my lashes. His brow has furrowed fractionally, his eyes are begging me to confide in him, but I just can't. "Ana, you can tell me, you can talk to me." He murmurs quietly, I gawk at him, astounded and slightly annoyed. How could I possibly talk to him? How could he possibly expect me to talk to him. I don't even know him anymore.
"You are just full of empty promises aren't you?" I ask plaintively, his face falls slightly by my blatant rebuff. "I don't even know you. You severed all contact with me when you were fifteen. You promised you would always be there for me and you lied. I am not just going to set myself up for disaster, you want trust? Earn it."
I make it a point to be very honest with people, to tell them exactly what I think; within limits. I haven't been in the same room as Christian since I was ten, when I moved we lost touch, one year later. I never got my explanation on the why, he just stopped calling me, and stopped answering my calls. So you could say I was very confused by the entire ordeal. I didn't have the slightest idea of what I'd done, eventually I gave up, I had other things to worry about at that particular time.
"That is very true," He finally murmurs after an unending moment, I look up at him awaiting his continuance. "I've always trusted you, Anastasia, I trusted you too help me; I relied solely upon you. You were so young, all I've ever done is taint you." His voice, his eyes, his being, are all pleading with me to understand him.
"Boy do you have your roles crossed," I mumble shaking my head. "Besides, isn't this all a bit irrelevant? I mean Mr. Grey, you have the world at your feet, I'm sure you have plenty of other friends. And I'm sure they aren't quite as young." I add attempting to pout, trying to lighten the heavy mood.
Christian laughs at my exaggerated pout, "Oh, Miss Steele, jealousy becomes you," he grins at me, then adds a bit more seriously. "You are the only friend I have. Or have ever wanted, let me assure you. You are the only person I have ever wanted."
"Christian," I say, gaping at him, completely taken aback by this revelation. He stares back at me, patiently waiting for me to continue. "I need to know why." I insist simply, he deflates fractionally.
"I know, and I will tell you, but the trust thing goes both way. After all we don't know each other." He states bitterly, rolling his eyes in exasperation at my insistence. I frown, looking back down at my entwined fingers, he comes over to sit beside me; he seems to have thawed fractionally. "But this is also a conversation that should not begin at ten o'clock at night."
"It's Friday night, Christian." I roll my eyes, frustrated with him already, he watches me wordlessly. I know exactly what he's doing, he's waiting on me to submit to him. "Tell me." I plead softly.
"I will." He promises, seeming lost in his own world, abruptly he leans over, pressing his lips to my forehead before standing to his feet. "Tomorrow is Saturday; you don't have school; I don't have work. I'll pick you up, we'll go somewhere, and we will talk."
"Fine," I pout, he smiles down at me turning to leave my room.
"I miss you, Anastasia." He says quietly, before turning the door knob and leaving me alone in the room.

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