Sex and the Treaty

The Chain reaction

Stacy's perspective:

Now I will have my answers. After so many days of dodging the unacknowledged questions, I stand in front of him, desperately waiting to know why he left me. To be answered why he'd made the treaty which termed as his biggest prank on me. The long interval he took in letting me know why he'd trashed me and yet, I always found him around me. He took what he wanted, he had already conquered victory. Then why did he show signs of jealousy? Why did he not look at me like I was his accomplishment.

Why did he look at me like a mistake, everytime having the guilt swarming around in his eyes. He knew I'd liked him more than anyone. He knew I considered what we had that night as one precious moment of my life. If all he wanted was a game, why did he kiss me now? Was this a part of Atticus Brown trying to indulge himself in forgiveness, or worse, another treaty?

"Atticus, I can't wait all night."

His eyes hunted for mercy. He shut them instantly, so tightly that his forehead had creases and frowns. I knew he never wanted to speak about this. He just wished to wipe away the past, that one night where many things broke into pieces before they even became a whole. But that was not something I could accept. He took the one treasure I was hiding. He just snatched it away and threw it into thin air. He walked away breaking every piece of me into more thousands of pieces.

I watched him as he paced in front of me. Walking with both his hands hiding his face. I wanted to see what hid behind the mask of his palms. Maybe anger, hurt, pain, guilt and even the possibility of tears. But I couldn't ignore the likelihood of a smirk, a burst of laughter, the sense where he insults and forced me to something I last wished.

"The silence won't help now. You just pacing around is giving my head many chances to form uncanny assumptions." I sighed.

"Look,--" he turned towards me. His palms slowly pulled down from his face. His eyes were constantly blinking, being shut at other times when he didn't blink. His breath became louder and louder every second, like this was something he never planned on how to do.

Like he'd ordered, I looked at him. I looked at his lips which were periodically licked. His lower lip was repeatedly bitten and it was a little red now. I rolled my eyes purposely when he gazed into mine. The brown glint, wanting to convey so much that his tongue was dreading to let me know. He tilted his head, trying to telepathy that he didn't want to speak. Although I looked so exasperated I was more than eager to hear him.

"Promise me," he stepped a little closer now, our chests having a very small place to heave and breathe. "that you will still talk to me, normally, after I tell you."

His breath, cigar smell with an intoxication of alcohol. I hated this scent, I hated when he smoked. He occasionally did but I still hated the reek which was hit on my face.

"It depends on what I hear."

He sighed hearing my answer. His eyes shut again and the next they opened, they were moist. I was surprised when his moist eyes still held my surprised once with so much force that he didn't feel embarrassed to cry in front of me. He blinked three times, turning away, looking down. A tear dripped down his right cheek.

My hands instantly lifted up towards his cheek, maybe to wipe the tear. But I froze right in the middle when he looked up at me again. His eyes red now, his breathing so pulsed that I could almost hear his chest striking in front of me. He wiped the tear away and my hands fisted. I pulled it down looking away, to the sides of the clearing.

"Okay, I understand." He finally said after what seemed like more than forever.

His elastic pull of postponing the confession reached the brim of my limits.