chronometer

rearrange

A/N: I just wanted to say that I am so, so sorry for how long it's been. I've been having issues with my mood as of late, and I'm looking into going on stabilizing meds. Things haven't been the kindest to me lately, but I feel that I'm slowly coming out of that blurry spot and I'll encourage myself out some more by writing! Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, it means a lot to have been told that it is good writing and/or plot. Y'all are just.. Amazing. I love you guys so much.

This chapter is dedicated to Micky (sconemiche) because she's a sweetheart and she makes my heart very happy. Also because she caught up as I was writing this, so there's no better way to honor that than this. Love you Micky!! (Make sure to check out her AMAZING, CAPTIVATING story The Funambulist as well, if you haven't read it yet then you have not lived.) I would link it for you but I have no idea how to rip :(

Enjoy!

Truthfully, I want to call him Mitchell again just to see how he would react. I consider it for a solid five seconds, then come to the conclusion that I would probably come off immature, and Mitch is already harsh as is. He would never physically harm me -- he's significantly shorter than me and basically a twig -- but verbally could be a different story. It was important to impress an enemy. My eyes roll at the petty thought then fall back on him.

"Okay, Mitch. What's your explanation, then?" My arms cross.

His lips quirk into a sly grin. "Like I said.. yesterday. You looked very lost. I'm curious."

His voice suggests he already knows, and I'm left with nothing but the truth to give. "I'm from Arlington."

Mitch's eyebrows raise and he makes some sort of 'hmm' noise in a moment of thought. "I'm actually surprised. I knew you weren't from here, but I didn't expect you to cross the timezones all the way from Arlington." His gaze wanders off to the side, and I'm left with silence. I feel like I could melt into the carpet if I don't move now. I need to leave.

Just as I'm about to put that thought into action, he finally acts by taking my wrist. "We're going outside." As soon as he says that, he begins to drag me down a second set of stairs on the other side of the hallway.

I am unable to resist. Not because I don't want to, but because by the time I'm able to remember I could probably crush his hand like a toothpick, there are people around us. They will notice if I try to run. I have no choice but to comply. I allow him to lead me towards the back of the mansion with anxiety blooming in my chest. For a moment I believe he's taking me to his father, but instead I'm taken through the back door. That leads out to a marble patio, which tapers off into sand. It is night, so I squint to see the rest of the land.

Correction, it is water. They have a large lake where their backyard is supposed to be. Waves rush against the shore, the hiss of the water entrancing me. I have never seen a large body of water or even a beach, but I certainly wished of it. I enjoy the cool air against my cheeks and I take deep breaths of it in. It reminds me of the safety of my mother's arms. She is much like an ocean. Calm, not easily stirred. Roaring when angered. Passionate with every movement. In all aspects, absolutely beautiful. I look over to Mitch and catch him in a moment I probably shouldn't have if I valued my sanity.

His eyes are closed, lashes fluttering over the bones of his cheeks. He takes a deep breath and I watch his chest expand then slowly deflate. He looks ethereal, skin glowing in the dim light of the moon. Mitch slowly lets go of my wrist while he breathes, and for a moment I forget that he is the son of a man I strongly hate. For the first time ever, I feel like time has stopped. I have never seen this level of peace on someone's face. I crave to have that feeling for my own, but a part of me realizes that this peace must not come to Mitch often either. Nobody would cherish a moment of silence to this extent, and guilt clouds my thoughts. It is immediately expelled when he finally speaks, and now he sounds much more delicate.