Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 2: Whispers

(Note: this chapter contains graphic portrayals of death and panic attacks)

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Lauren
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The unexpected blast threw me off my feet, catapulting me across the floor. Hard sandstone collided with my side, fire lacing down my ribs as an agonizing scream tore from my throat. Breathing suddenly became an impossible task. Blinking the tears from my eyes, I coughed up grains of sand. Jesus fucking Christ. What was that?

Pushing myself onto my elbows, a whoosh of air left me when something heavy collapsed on top of me, forcibly pinning me to cold limestone. A pained groan was knocked from my lungs under the weight. As though underwater, I registered the frightened shrieks and scrambling bodies as people clamored for the door, the heavy smell of smoke choking my lungs. Rising above those cries, the haunting echoes of inhuman voices rang in my ears like nails scraping on a chalkboard. The candles on the sconces flickered once, then twice as the pillars shook precariously. The building itself groaned like an ancient beast rousing from slumber, with an audible crash signaling the fall of the grand chandelier. Glistening crystals fracturing across the tiles like glitter, a river of tinkling bells.

The quaking gradually ebbed into aftershocks, the earth rumbling with the angry thunder of a storm. At the same time, the chorus of shrill soprano screeches in my head quieted just as suddenly as it began. The remaining firelights fluttered, casting ominous shadows that danced over the rafters like haunting spectres. The panicked screams surrounding the halls grew unceasing.

Blinking to stave off the pulsing soreness in my head, side, and back, I realized the weight hanging over me was another person.

"Fuck."

A shudder drove out the cold in my body, that throaty groan having been spoken directly in my ear. Hot breath caressed the side of my neck and I dared not move a muscle. I knew that voice. Almost against my will my head turned to see who had pinned me down.

Grey collided with midnight blue and my whole world shook for a second time. Only one person on Earth had ocean eyes like those. He was flush up against my body, chest to chest, hip to hip, his forearms braced on either side of my head. I could feel his rapid heartbeat through my clothes, our bodies aligned, noses just barely brushing.

Peter Ducane, my tormentor, the star of my worst fucking nightmares, was on top of me.

He looked terribly handsome, even now. Surprise was frozen on his face before his eyes abruptly darkened, quickly consuming those cerulean waves. His hair has fallen into his eyes, a thin coat of dust scattered atop those black locks like frost. Heat nestled up in my cheeks, muscles locking up and I dared not even breathe. I felt like a mouse caught in a trap.

Confession time—Peter was my first crush. Yeah, I know it's cheesy as hell. But he wasn't always like this. An asshole, I mean. He used to be kind. I wasn't sure when it happened exactly. Even though we were so different, we got along like two peas in a pod. He was the kid who drank his juice with rocks in it, constantly getting us into trouble while I bailed us out. Growing up, we were practically inseparable and one day, I just couldn't imagine my life without him. Wherever he went, whatever he did, I wanted to be by his side. His betrayal left a sour taste on my tongue and bitterness in my heart.

My stomach cramped as I stared up at him with wide eyes. I opened my mouth, unsure exactly what was going to come out before one of Peter's football buddies clasped him on the shoulder.

"Bro, you good?"

Peter blinked. As though a spell breaking at midnight, the moment fractured. Time sped up, reality crashing through like an uninvited guest. Within seconds, Peter struggled to untangle himself from my limbs. With shaky hands, I shoved him sideways off me.