Deranged [n.h]

Chapter Thirteen

Just as I reached my car to pull out of his stupid lot of his stupid trailer, he came out, storming towards me. His hair blew in the November air as he called my name, halting me to a stop. I turned on my heel, and placed my hands behind me on my car, holding myself up as if I was expecting his words to have a fatal blow, crashing me down piece by piece. This time, I thought, I wouldn't let him get his way.

"Margaret," he called, a few feet away from me. His voice was loud, but seemed to get lost in the whish-whoosh of the air. It tickled my arms and goosebumps rose.

He stood, one foot in front of the other. He looked like he was readying himself; like he was about to arrack. Attack me, probably. What was going on? Why was all of this happening?

"What, Niall? What the hell could you possibly want? I'm giving you what you want, remember?" I snapped.

He bit his lip, trying to say something, but as the leaves fell and the whish-whosh grew louder and more vigorous, I began to loose my patience with this cute little game we had going on. I needed to get home, I knew dad was probably - actually, never mind. I just needed to get out of this town, completely.

"That's," he swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbled down his through in a nervous matter. "That's not I want." His voice seemed to fade at the end.

"What?" I yelled.

"I said that not what I want!" He yelled back. His words were sweet but his actions mean different, it was like he was a living and breathing oxymoron, who would sit around, having a heart of gold, but his actions and body language were begging at his feet; yearning for the riches that his heart pumped through his veins but would have enough circulation to actually let it out.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He didn't say anything. Instead he grabbed his bottom lip between his finger and thumb, probably something he did often considering this being the second time I have seen him done it. He brought both of his hands behind his head like I had asked him to stand ground and resist, dropping all of his words of weapons and be thrown into jail.

He began to advance toward me, and I nervously toppled backward only to be pressed against my car. There was no where to run. No where to hide. It was just me and him. Me and some stranger I had no intention of getting closer to.

He came up to my face, only inches fell lip before he began to speak

"I mean that it's not what I want." He seemed angry, but I had to remind myself of his oxymoron-ness, and his inability to be true to his words.

"Well, what do you want then." I crossed my arms.

"This," he breathed then slowly brought his mouth to mine; something I wasn't expecting at all. My mouth molded into his, his rather cold mouth. But I didn't care. I felt warmed despite how cold and dull he was; I felt the earth melt away by a growing feeling inside. I didn't care about my father and his rudeness, I didn't care about my depression or possible schizophrenia - whatever it may be - and I didn't even think about mother. It was just us. It was just purely and utterly us. And as much of a wreck as it may be or will be, I'm willing to sacrifice everything and say, bring it on. Because standing here, and holding him, with his tongue slowly grazing my lip and his eye lashes fluttering upon my cheek, there isn't anything I want, or no place I would rather be then he with him with me. And I don't know how I will ever be able to get over it or move on. I grabbed his black shirt, begging for him to be closer to me, oh to have him stop me and cup my cheeks, staring into my eyes.

"I want to continue this, but not now." He looked down at me. His height wasn't that drastic but there was definitely a comparison.

"Okay. Well, what is now?" I asked.

He sighed and grabbed my hand, pulling me back inside. "I think I should start explaining myself," he said. His back was towards me as he guided me back to his trailer, but from what I could hear, I think that is what he said.

"Okay." Fine by me, it's time I get to the bottom of this.