He Who Controls the Flame (001 fanfic)

Chapter Twenty Six- The Secrets Between Us

Seven really had to pee.

And usually, he peed before he went to bed, you know, like a sane person. But he had been distracted by, well...playing hide and seek to the death. That and Juliette was acting really strange.

When Papa had come onto the intercom and declared that the game was over, he had walked to the room from before, his eyes instantly looking for his girls. He found El, shaking and pale, but otherwise unharmed. But Juliette...God, Juliette had looked worse for wear.

Her cheeks had been flushed, her eyes wild, and blood had been staining her shirt. He had asked her what happened and she had said the dog had attacked her. But he knew it was more than that. And that it probably had something to do with the man who walked in a minute after her, his cheeks also pink, his lips equally swollen.

Now, Seven wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, but he wasn't born yesterday. Those two fuckers had totally gotten into it during the game. But the real question was: did the dog really do that to Juliette or had they gotten a little too into it? Seven wasn't one to judge, love was a mysterious thing indeed, but he couldn't imagine anyone actually preferring their pleasure with a little bit of pain. But what did he know, maybe Peter was a massive masochist and he had no idea.

He groaned, running his hands over his hair which had grown out a bit in the past couple months. He was probably due for a buzz soon, something he dreaded. He wanted, more than anything, to know what he'd look like with more than a fucking centimeter of hair. He knew he was good looking, but the whole bald look kind of ruined it for him.

But, then again, what did it matter? It wasn't like any ladies were really lining up for him. He had never even had his first kiss before. He fantasized what it'd be like to kiss a girl. To hold her, to care for her, to love her, to save a seat for her at every table.

An image of a girl with large, amber eyes and bright auburn hair filled his mind and he cursed under his breath, running his hands down his face.

No. No. NO.

He pinched the fleshy part of his arm, hoping to teach himself, Pavlov style, to associate any...romantic thoughts of Juliette with pain. It wasn't working.

Seven tried, he really tried, like herculean-level-effort tried, but he just couldn't stop thinking about her. He wasn't sure when the thoughts started, maybe when he heard the stories of the girl who threw herself in front of Fourteen like it was nothing, lit herself up like a christmas tree, and then killed one of the most powerful monsters in the world. Like some kind of fucking war-angel-goddess.

God, he was so whipped.

He suddenly stood up, sick of these thoughts running through his head. He blamed his bladder. If it weren't for his need to pee, he would've been asleep by now, totally not thinking inappropriate thoughts of Juliette.

He started to pace, gnawing down on his thumb nail, a habit he had had for eons. His nails were always bitten down to the beds, but nowadays even more so due to the fact that he had a crush on a girl who was completely and utterly in love with someone else.

As he had said before: he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, but he wasn't born yesterday.

He saw the way Juliette looked at Peter. Like he was not only the only man in the world but like he was her world. Like she was stuck in his orbit and had no want to get out. And he was no better. If anything, Peter Ballard was worse.

And Crayon-Papa was certainly duller than Crayon-Seven because he hadn't caught on and let the two of them go into an isolated cabin in the woods for weeks. Weeks! God, he could just imagine the sexual tension filling that place to the brim.