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Post by damianrocks on Dec 24, 2009 23:05:58 GMT -5
Hello everyone. I'm new to this site, and I feel like trying out my story on here. Please give feedback, whether positive or negative, but still be nice please. Here's the prologue. ---- Prologue: April 15, 1992 April fifteenth, nineteen ninety-two, was supposed to be a happy day. And it was… But it turned into a nightmare for Nicholas Jameson. It wasn't until several weeks later that he began to hate April fifteenth, nineteen ninety-two, but he hated it, nonetheless. It was the day I was born. My name is Lila Jameson, named after my grandmother on my mother's side. I'm the second child, after my older brother, Nicholas Jr.-or Nick, as I like to call him-in a family of three. My mother died two years ago from Leukemia. She was thirty-eight years old. She died on my fifteenth birthday, which only made my father hate the day even more. My name is Lila Jameson. I was born deaf; a disgrace to my father. I was the first genetic defect in his family's bloodline dating back to the early fifteenth century and he regrets my existence. He denies it. He says he loves me, but I know it's an act. As a child, he paid for me to take speech classes, to make it less noticeable to outsiders. Then, I thought of it as a privilege because it was expensive, and I learned quickly, advancing to the point where I was top of my speech class in high school. Now, I realize that it was all to cover up my problem. To hide what I was. As a child, I realized that not many deaf people could speak as fluently as I could, so I used that privilege my father had bought for me to the best of my ability and advanced in it. At seventeen, I know English, French, Spanish, American Sign Language, and am learning Italian. When I was in the ninth grade, during one of my special classes, I was introduced to new technology that was not being offered as a treatment yet. My dad agreed to let them test it on me. It seems that my left ear has some minimal hearing in it, but I can't hear anything without an aid. They tested this technology on me, which helped me learn faster than I had been before. I know what voices sound like, but I've only used the product a few times in my life, and it was always my doctor's voice I heard-nothing more. After a few months, they finished their testing and I never used an aide again. My father didn't want to waste the money on something that I could do without. I have never heard my mother's voice. I have never heard a laugh. I have never heard music. People look at me with sympathy-faked-and pity. But how can you miss something you never knew? I'm not sad for myself. I'm sad for my father, that he thinks so little of me. That I cannot be what he wants me to be. I'm sad that my mother never got to see me graduate, which I did this year, having skipped the tenth grade. But I'm more happy than sad. I'm happy that I have a home. I'm happy that I have friends-true friends. Someone with a disability only has true friends, when they're not rich. True, the only friends I have are my brother and my cat, Butterfinger-named after my favorite candy-but it's better than having just my dad. I love my dad. And I will make him proud of me one day. I've tried excelling in his line of work: art. I've won many contests and have a few pieces in small galleries across the States. But that hasn't seemed to work. My dad owns the local branch of a big arts supplies company-I won't say which one, to avoid confusion. He gets paid a fair amount of money, but with only one parent bringing in an income, we're by no means rich. My brother attends the local college-he's twenty-one. I have begun my freshman year at an expensive Christian College that's two hours south east from home. I chose to live on campus. I wanted to get away. Thankfully, I was allowed to bring Butterfinger, as long as no one complains about her. No one has yet. My first step-aside from school stuff-was to find a church to attend, then I needed to find a job. Nick and I are the only ones who go to church anymore in our family. Dad works all the time, spending all day every day in his office downtown. Nick learned to cook, real fast. He was more of a father to me than my father was. I found a job at a movie theater across the street from campus. I work the ticket booth where your tickets get ripped in half and I direct them down which hallway. I also clean the bathrooms. I get paid minimum wage. I could get into movies for free, but I don't. I've never seen a movie. I don't intend to. I've never been on a date either. But I don't care. If God wants me to have a boyfriend, then someone will ask me out. For now, I work at a career. At the moment, I'm taking classes to become a book writer, and double majoring in visual arts, with my painting. I'm working on an autobiography, a.k.a. a diary, but I like to write fiction. I also like to read books. My entire bookshelf in my dorm is filled. I live in my dorm by myself. My dorm mate when I arrived was allergic to cats, so she transferred rooms, but I never got another room mate reassigned to me. So I live alone, unless you count the rest of the girls on my floor. My name is Lila Jameson, and this is where my real story begins. ----- Let me know what you think! Attachments:
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Post by damianrocks on Dec 27, 2009 22:47:21 GMT -5
Haha ok The next part is probably going to be posted in 2 parts, cuz it's long. ^^; heh heh... Ok! --Chapter One: Collide-- It was fall break. I didn't understand why we had a break between summer and winter break, but I wasn't complaining. On the surface. I'd wanted to get away from home, and there were more breaks than any other school I'd heard about. I was walking down a main street a few blocks away from my house, Butterfinger close at my heels. I held an almost empty cup of cappuccino in one hand and a portfolio in the other. I had just had a small breakfast at a little café (where I'd gotten my cappuccino) and was headed for the park. I was going to do some proof reading on my story (in the portfolio) and had my red marker in my pocket, ready for use. I drained the cup, and looked for a trash can. I didn't see any, so I held onto it and went looking down side alleyways for a dumpster. --//-- I threw away my Styrofoam cup as I left the McDonald's I just had breakfast at. French vanilla cappuccinos were the best part about that place. I debated where to go next. Rehearsal wasn't for another few hours, after lunch. I decided to just walk through the streets and see the town I'd never been to before. I could always hail a taxi if I got lost. As I turned and started walking down the street, I passed a small group of girls who were chattering amongst each other. When I was about three feet past them, one of them called my name, and I instinctively turned, then regretted it. They started squealing in the realization of who I was, and began running at me, screaming frantically. I was faster than they were, but I couldn't keep that speed for very long. A couple of blocks later, I looked and there was a huge mob chasing me. I'd never be able to outrun that many people. I had noticed many alleyways along the streets. --//-- Aha. Here was a dumpster. I dropped my empty cup in it, then bent to scoop up Butterfinger. I headed back for the sidewalk. --//-- At the next corner, I mustered the last of my energy and sprinted to the closest alleyway. As I turned into the alleyway, I almost ran over someone. --//-- I was taken aback when I saw a boy turn the corner very quickly and run straight into me. He didn't stop running, but took me with him. I was too shocked to scream. He pulled me back behind the dumpster I had just thrown my cup into and we crouched there for a few seconds. He kept his hand on my arm. I hadn't realized I was squeezing Butterfinger until she clawed my hand. I gasped and eased my grip. I looked at the boy. He was peeking around the corner at something, then after a moment, he visibly relaxed and slouched against the dumpster. He was breathing very heavily. He seemed to suddenly realize he still held my arm, and jerked his hand away. I saw him form the word "sorry". I sat up straighter, stretching my back. "It's okay," I said. I looked at my portfolio. It was a little bent on the corner, but that was okay. I looked back at him and he was looking at me expectantly. "I'm sorry?" He gave me a funny look. I didn't feel like telling him I was deaf at the moment. "I said 'are you all right'?" he said. His mouth moved… differently. He had an accent. I nodded in answer to his question. "Where are you from?" I said. "You speak differently from everyone around here." He ran a hand through his short, dark hair and lifted his blue eyes towards the sky. He seemed to laugh. He had nice teeth. He seemed to be around my age, maybe a little bit younger, and I remembered from earlier that he was inches taller than me. Wait. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend. Just carry normal conversation. "I'm from Ireland," he said. This intrigued me. But before I could ask another question, he stood. I did too. "I think they've gone," he said. It was a little bit difficult to follow his speech, but I was getting the hang of it. "Who?" I asked. "Were you being chased?" He ran his hand through his hair again. A nervous habit. I smiled. "Ah… a bunch of screaming girls," he admitted. "I have a bit of a fan base." He shrugged. "I was surprised there were so many of them in such a small town. They're all probably going to the show tonight," he said more to himself. "Show?" I asked. "What kind of show?" He raised his eyebrows at me. "I'm a part of a group," he explained. "We're on tour. We have a concert tonight a couple of blocks away." "Oh, a singer," I said, understanding now. He laughed. "Yeah," he said. "Not that popular, seeing as how you didn't know who I was." I stiffened. "I don't listen to music," I said. He looked at me like I was crazy. I'd have to tell him the truth after that statement. "I can't listen to music." I hoped he'd get the hint. He just looked confused. "I can't listen to anything…" I trailed off, thinking he was a little slow. What he said next was so unexpected, it took me a while to comprehend it. "Will you go for a walk with me?" "Uhh… sure…" He led me back to the sidewalk and stopped. I looked at him. "Were you going anywhere in particular?" he asked. "Because I wasn't." "Uh, I was going to the park," I said. He made a gesture as if telling me to lead the way, so I did. The park wasn't far. We got there in five minutes. We sat on a bench. I let Butterfinger down on the ground and she curled up by the foot of the bench. I turned sideways to face him and he did the same. "So, you're deaf," he said bluntly. I nodded. He just sat for a moment, thinking. "You read lips." I nodded again. He was sifting through things I'd said, trying to tie everything together. "What do you do?" He laughed. "I can't seem to get my mind around it." I smiled. "I paint," I suggested. "I write."I held the portfolio up for emphasis. "I sketch. I go shopping," I added sarcastically. "No, I don't like to shop." He laughed at that. "Do you go to school?" "I'm going to HU, a couple hours' drive southeast from here," I said. "My first year at college. It's taking some getting used to, but I can handle it." "You're at college?" he sounded surprised. "How old are you?" I smiled. "I turned seventeen this April," I said. He raised his eyebrows. "I turned seventeen two months ago," he said. I was five months older than him. "I graduated this year too. I've been doing personal tutoring for that past two years while on tour, and I got ahead." "I skipped the tenth grade," I said, nodding. He laughed. "I'm sitting next to a genius," he said. It soon turned into a small competition. "I can speak English, Irish Gaelic, and a little bit of French." I smiled. "I can speak English, Spanish, French, ASL, and a little bit of Italian," I said and laughed. "I aced Trigonometry," he challenged. "I aced Calculus and Trigonometry in high school," I said. He was quiet a moment. "I got nothin'," he said. I laughed. "You have music," I said. He nodded. "I definitely have music," he agreed. "Do you ever wish you did?" He turned serious. I thought a moment. "Sometimes, I think it would be nice to know what music sounded like," I admitted. "But I've never heard it, so I don't really know what there is to get so worked up over." He nodded in understanding. "I think you'd love music," he said. I shrugged and laughed weakly. "I think to you it would look strange when someone sings." "Why?" He just looked at me. When he spoke next, the words were drawn out in some places and rushed in others. He seemed to be keeping some sort of rhythm with his foot, but I watched his mouth. "Like a bird without wings that longs to be flying; Like a motherless child left lonely and crying; Like a song without words; Like a world without music; I wouldn't know what to do; I'd be lost without you watching over me." I realized he was singing. "I get so lonely when you're away. I count every moment; I wait every day until you're home again and hug me so tight; That's when I know everything is all right. You're my guardian angel, my light, and my guide. Your hand on my shoulder and you by my side. You make everything beautiful. You make me complete. Everything in my world I lay at your feet. Like a church with no steeple where a bell never rings. In a town without people where no voice in the choir ever sings. If a boat on the ocean would be lost with no sail, then without your devotion, surely all that I dreamed of would fail. Like a bird without wings that longs to be flying; Like a motherless child left lonely and crying; Like a song without words; Like a world without music; I wouldn't know what to do; I'd be lost without you watching over me. I wouldn't know what to do; I'd be lost without you… watching over me." He looked at me expectantly. I took a deep breath. "It's poetry," I said. "It's beautiful." He laughed. "Well, I didn't write it," he said. "But yes, it is beautiful. That's why I sing it." I laughed. "Do you know any foreign ones?" I asked. He thought a moment. "I know an Irish Gaelic one," he said. "Well, just the first verse is Gaelic, the rest is English, but-" "Sing that one," I said. "Or you could just speak it. I really like poetry," I admitted. "I'm telling you, you would love music," he said. "I'll sing it." He seemed to cough a little, probably clearing his throat. "Buachaill ón Eirne mé's bhréagfainn féin cailín deas óg; Né iarfainn bó spré léithe tá mé saibhir go leor; 'S liom Corcaigh a mhéid e, dhá thaobh a ghleanna's Tír Eoghain; 'S mur n-athraí mé béasaí 's mé n' t-oibhr ar Chontae Mhaigh Eo." He paused to translate. "It means 'I am a boy from Ireland and I'd coax a nice young girl. I wouldn't ask for a dowry with her, I'm rich enough myself. I own Cork, big as it is both sides of the glen and Tyrone, and if I don't change my ways I'll be the heir for County Mayo.'" He shrugged. "Do you want me to sing the rest? It's in English." "Maybe later," I said. "Gaelic is a beautiful language. I might learn it before I finish Italian." He laughed. "Lots of languages are beautiful," he said. "Do you think you'd have time to learn them all?" I smiled. "I can try," I said. And I did want to learn as many languages as I could. "I doubt I'll ever stop learning." He nodded. "What time is it?" I asked. I wanted to get home before traffic got bad. It was near impossible to cross a street when rush hour hit. He looked at his watch. "It's eleven forty," he said, then sat up straight. "Oh, crap, I have to go," he said. "I have rehearsal…" "For the show tonight," I said. "I understand. You're a busy man." He laughed. "Yeah," he said. "I had fun talking with you. It was… different, yet interesting." "Same here," I said. "I really enjoyed your songs, even though I only got half the effect." He smiled, then seemed to think of something. He seemed hesitant to bring it up. "What is it?" "Would you like to come to the concert tonight?" he said. "Backstage, I mean. I think you'd really like the guys I sing with. You'd get on well." I thought a moment. "I just thought it would be fun having someone new backstage with us, and I thought you'd find it interesting." "All right," I said. "When and where?" "Six thirty at the Morris PAC," he said. "Do you text?" He dug a phone out of his pocket. I got mine out of my coat pocket. "It's not like I actually call people," I said. "There would be no point. Texting is all I do on this thing." "You have an LG Lotus?" he said in awe. "Those are awesome music players." I shrugged. "I got it for Christmas last year from my grandma," I said. "One of my cousins picked it out and she paid for it." "Cool," he said. "Well, when you get there tonight, text me, and I'll come and let you in through the back. Here. Put your number in." He handed his phone over to me and I handed him mine. We put our info into the other's phone and returned it to its owner. I saw him read my name and he paused for a second. "Lila… That's a beautiful name." I blushed and looked at his name. "Damian…." He smiled. "McGinty. You really are Irish, aren't you?" He laughed. "That I am," he said. "Though, I think you look the part more than I do." I laughed. "Probably," I said. "I do think I'm mostly Scots-Irish. Or Celtic, would be accurate as well." He nodded. "I don't doubt it," he said. "So, I'll see you at six thirty?" We stood. "Yeah," I said, picking up Butterfinger. "This is Butterfinger, by the way. She's a sweetie." I scratched her ears. "She looks like a Butterfinger," he said. "Brown and orange…" He scratched her chin and I felt her purr and her eyes closed. "She likes you," I said. "But she likes everyone, so…" He laughed. "I really have to go," he said. He looked sad to say it. I felt sad that he said it. "I'll see you tonight," I said. He nodded and watched me leave. I was smiling when I walked through the front door and dropped Butterfinger on the floor. I giggled as I walked to my room. Nick was at school all day today, so it was just me at home. I got on the internet and searched his name. Pictures and videos were taking over my screen. I watched one of the videos just to do it and watched him sing the songs he sang in the park today. He looked a lot younger in the video. I also read the Gaelic lyrics and found it difficult to fit with his mouth. The pronunciations must be very different than the written language. I spent the day reading my newest book and started a painting of Damian. I didn't get much of it done, because I spent a long time picking the picture to use. I took almost an hour deciding what to wear, and wound up with a pair of skinny jeans, Converse (which had been thoroughly doodled on), and a dark green top. I slipped on my watch and put my phone on vibrate in my pocket. I had my keys hooked to a belt loop, my wallet in my back pocket, and I looked myself over in the mirror. Light makeup was slightly covered by my glasses, but there wasn't anything I could do about that. Plus, I liked my glasses. I decided that was as good as it was going to get. Before I left, I put Butterfinger in her basket, and wrote a note for my father and brother and taped it to the inside door where no one could take it down from the outside. It read: "I'll be home late. I have a date. –Lila <3"
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Post by damianrocks on Dec 27, 2009 23:35:21 GMT -5
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Post by damianrocks on Dec 28, 2009 19:33:04 GMT -5
--Chapter Two: Venue-- As I approached the venue, my stomach started to clench. I had been in the Morris PAC before, for art shows, but I had never been near the auditorium, much less backstage. I waited outside the entrance door while I texted Damian, telling him of my arrival. I thought about heading back home because I was feeling sick. Then I realized: I was nervous. I never got nervous. I could honestly say that I had never felt nervous in my life up until that point. I could see through the glass doors that there was a crowd of people in the lobby, obviously excited. But they weren't moving into the auditorium yet. Was I too early? I felt someone touch my shoulder and I turned quickly. I would have screamed, but I seemed to know before I saw him that it was Damian. Maybe it was his smell... He smelled almost like... rain... mixed with grass... He smelled like outside during autumn just before or after a thunder storm. I remembered sitting in the garage with Nick and watching it rain when I was little. I could feel the thunder through my chair and would always ask how loud each clap of thunder was. I think I may have annoyed him, but he was always loving and kind. He never got upset with me. I was brought back to the present when Damian started to pull me to the side of the building. "We're going in the back way," I saw him say. I didn't blame him. Surely all of the people crammed into the lobby knew his face and would no doubt be caught in a frenzy if they saw him. That's when I noticed that he had a streak of light color across his forehead. I held back a laugh. Once he pulled me through the side door, I stopped him. "You have something on your face," I said, unable to hold the laughter in, and letting out a chuckle. He nodded. "I know," he said. "I was in the middle of makeup when you texted me, and I came to get you." "How thoughtful of you," I said. "But, why are you wearing makeup?" Was it a singer thing? "The stage lights will wash out our faces if we don't," he said. "It's so we don't disappear on stage, basically. We don't do anything like in theater with all the craziness they have going on, but just the basics. There are actually photos in the dressing rooms of different shows that have gone on in this building and some of them are frightening. I'll show you in a bit." He talked as he walked. He led me down a couple hallways and up a flight of stairs to another hallway. I was already lost in the large building. He paused by a door. "I'll introduce you to the boys, then let you chat with them while I finish makeup. All right?" I nodded. "Good. Prepare yourself." What did he mean by that? Too late to ask: he'd already opened the door and walked in. I followed. It was a brightly lit room with mirrors all along three of the walls. The back wall had sinks and another door that said "Restroom." Various articles of clothing were hanging on racks and makeup cluttered the counters. Four men sat in the middle of the room and stared at me as I followed Damian in. One of them--one with short-cut brown hair--stood. "Damian, what if we were dressing?" he accused. The three who remained seated smirked. "You know better than to bring your girlfriend in here without knocking!" I looked to Damian, afraid that I'd gotten him into trouble. I was surprised to see that he was smirking as well. "You all were dressed before I left to get her," he said. "Stop being such a goof ball, Paul." The men openly laughed now. I noticed Damian hadn't corrected the girlfriend comment. I smiled. The man--Paul--turned to the one with long-ish blonde hair. "I told you," he said and held out his hand. The blonde reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. Paul took it from him. "Thank you." I looked back to Damian when I saw him move towards one of the mirrors. I read his lips through the mirror and got about half of his sentence. "...appreciate it when you bet over my reactions," he said, picking up a triangular sponge. "I'm not a thing for you to play with." I looked to the blonde, who stood and spoke. "Damian, you know we tease all of the group, not just you," he said, walking over to Damian, who was evening out the makeup on his forehead. He laid a hand on his shoulder and brought Damian's eyes to meet his. It reminded me of when I got teased in third grade to my face (obviously not behind my back) and Nick was trying to knock some sense into me and telling me that bullies are stupid (He was in sixth grade. It was the best advice he could give.). What that kid said to me was downright mean. These guys were obviously playing, but Damian did have a point about the betting. "It's not the teasing," Damian said. "I can deal with the teasing, Keith." He had a small smile creeping up his face. "It's the betting. If you want some entertainment, I think that's fine, but why gamble over it? There's no point." In the mirror, I saw the bald man speak. "The lad has a point," he said. "Thank you, George," Damian said then turned around and leaned against the counter. His makeup was done, and it was hardly noticeable. "I appreciate that." George nodded. I was wondering if Damian was saying their names on purpose so I would know who they were. There was only one left for me to figure out: the one with short, black hair. He had been the quietest out of the group. He hadn't spoken a word since I'd arrived. He seemed tired. Damian noticed too. "No sleep again, Ryan?" Ryan rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. "Same old, same old?" Another nod. "Sorry, mate." A small smile crept up Ryan's mouth. "You always have the greatest sympathy, Damian," he said. "Thank you for noticing." He gave a small glance at the others in the room. "But I had a tall cup of coffee with lots of sugar, so I'll be good to go in a moment." Damian made a face of disapproval, but let it go. He reached under his collar and pulled out a small stick-looking thing with a ball on the end of it. It was attached to a cord that ran down his shirt. He hooked it over his ear as he said, "It's almost time to start, lads!" The room was suddenly full of energy. I could feel it. All the men were smiling and they all stood. Ryan looked fully awake now. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned. A woman with long dark hair was standing there looking at the guys. "...in five minutes," I saw her say. The five men jumped into the air with excitement. They must really like doing these shows. I looked at Damian, and his eyes quickly found mine. He walked over to me. "Lila, this is Zara," he said, indicating the woman with her hand on my shoulder. "Zara, this is Lila." "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, and moved her hand from my shoulder to offer it to me. I shook it. "Same here." Zara looked at Damian and hid her mouth from me. Whatever she said made Damian blush and look away from her, but a smile was on his face. Zara began talking again. "When the guys go out on stage, you'll be in here, watching the monitors. There's going to be one camera on each individual as the songs go through, and one more on the entire stage. When one of them isn't on stage, the camera assigned to them will roam the stage and audience as well. All of our camera operators are top notch and know what they're doing. I go out on stage on a few songs, but I spend the majority of my time back here helping organize the guys' wardrobe changes." She pointed to the racks of clothing, and I quickly glanced, returning quickly to her mouth. "Each of them has their own rack and I put the clothing in order, and some pieces of clothing shift around multiple times. You'll see throughout the concert. I'm actually very busy." She addressed the whole group. "Boys! Get your coats! Come on! One minute!" They each rushed over to their clothing rack and grabbed the first article of clothing from it: a long leather coat. I couldn't help but get excited myself. In was contagious. Zara rushed the boys out of the room. Damian was the last to leave, and he stopped to talk to me. "I'll be back in seven minutes," he said with a smile. He hesitated, then flinched as if someone had called his name. He made a split-second decision and pulled me to him in a tight hug. I had only just begun to hug back when he rushed down the hallway after the others. --Hope you guys like it --
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Post by damianrocks on Jan 4, 2010 15:59:15 GMT -5
Haha yes you said that a few times. Update time! Where am I?...ch3 --Chapter Three: Roller Coaster-- The feeling of excitement dropped a little bit and I realized it was because I missed him already. I shook my head and walked to the wall of TV screens. I sat in a chair and found a packet of paper on the counter. It was a timeline of sorts of the songs they'd be performing and who performed in each song. First in line was "Heartland" and all of them sang it. There was movement on some of the screens so I focused my attention to them. Lights were coming up on the stage. Fog was rolling off the stage and into the crowd. Lights were flashing like lightning. There was a moment where nothing else seemed to really be happening. Suddenly someone began banging on a drum very quickly. That seemed to go on for a long time. Where were they? Lights came up on the violins and cello and they played a steady rhythm. People in long, dark, hooded cloaks walked across the stage and I saw the five singers take their places beside the orchestra. Keith started singing first so I looked at his camera. "When the storm is raging and thunder rolls, deliver us from the ocean. Save our souls!" They took a step and changed their stance as they began what I assumed was the chorus. I couldn't understand what they were saying. It was something like "A hearna jean tro ker ah. A kristia en tro ker ah," and they repeated it. That was the best I could make of it. Next, George and Ryan sang at the same time. I kept my eyes on Ryan's camera. "When the winds are howling, vigil keep. Shelter us and save us from the deep." They sang the chorus again, then walked around the stage a little bit. Paul sang next. The others sang something too, but it was more of a background chanting of what Paul was already singing, so I focused on Paul. "Thank you, Lord, you have brought us safe to shore. Be our strength and protection evermore." They sang the chorus again, then Ryan sang a little bit that looked like the chorus but mixed up. "Jean tro ker ah. Jean tro ker ah. A hearna." Then they did the chorus a couple more times, then ended the song abruptly with a step to the side. As the lights dimmed, I could see Keith hand his coat to George and run towards the band. The others left the stage. Almost immediately, people started coming back into the room. Zara, followed by George, Ryan, Paul, and Damian. Paul grabbed a suit from his rack and headed into the restroom to change. George, Damian, and Ryan took off their leather coats and put them on hangers and handed them to Zara, who hung them in the back of the racks. Ryan sat next to me and looked at the TV screens. I gasped and turned back to them. Keith was standing in front of a microphone stand holding a guitar. "...feel of sunlight in the morning in the hills away from city strife. I need a country woman for my wife. I'm city born, but I love the country life." I turned away from the screen. This song wasn't as interesting as the other one. George had put on a suit jacket, and Damian was in the process of rolling up his sleeves. He came and sat on my other side. "How are you holding up so far?" he asked. I laughed. "It was good. Was part of it in a different language? I didn't understand it." He nodded. "It was Gaelic for 'Lord, have mercy' and 'Christ, have mercy.'" I nodded. "I liked that one," I said. "This one," I pointed to Keith's singing form--"Ain't worth another try"--, "isn't holding my attention so well. I guess it's because I missed the beginning so it doesn't make as much sense now." Just then, Paul walked out of the dressing room/restroom and handed a pair of slacks to Zara, who hung it up on his rack. "Thank you, Zara," he said. Zara smiled. Paul walked over to us and placed his hands on the back of my chair, watching the TV screens. It was strange. I felt comfortable with these people, and I'd only known most of them for ten or fifteen minutes. I'd felt the same way with Damian, once I got over the shock of being ran into. Maybe it was an Irish thing. As soon as I realized George had left, I noticed Keith was bowing on stage and rushing off. A few seconds after I saw George start singing--"'Twas Joey the Weasel that gave us the wire: They were closing our factory down"--Keith walked in. He immediately took a suit jacket from his rack and put it on. I looked at Damian inquisitively. "He'll forget to put it on if he waits more than two minutes," he said smiling. Keith came over and ruffled Damian's hair. Well, he tried to. Damian grabbed his hand before it got anywhere near his neatly spiked locks. Damian was smirking as he shoved Keith's arm away. I giggled. Keith looked at me. "Ahh, so she does speak!" he teased. "And what is thy name, milady? Ye have not been properly introduced." He elbowed Damian. I smiled. "I'm Lila," I said. Apparently Paul said something behind me. "That it is," Keith said to him over the top of my head. I turned to Paul and gave him a questioning look. He didn't seem to understand, and merely quirked an eyebrow. Damian hadn't told them. I looked at Damian. He knew what I was asking. "He said it was a beautiful name," Damian said. "Oh," I said. Paul seemed to be putting two and two together. Ryan probably was. All he seemed to do was observe. There must me some sort of investigation going on inside his head. Keith on the other hand, didn't seem to be paying that much attention. He nudged Damian, asking for an explanation. Damian ignored him, looking at George sing on the monitors. I sighed. "I'm deaf, Keith." He looked at me with a funny expression, a mixture of shock, understanding, and self reprimand. He probably though he had been insensitive. "It's okay," I said and he relaxed a little. "You had no way of knowing." I saw Paul snicker a little from the corner of my eye, but ignored it. I didn't want Keith to feel bad over something so silly. He had to be my favorite (besides Damian) out of the group. Not that I was picking favorites, but I was more drawn to him than any of the others. Maybe because he reminded me of Nick so much. I patted Keith's arm and returned to the TV monitors. George was leaving the stage. But everyone else was still here. Weren't there more songs? I knit my eyebrows together in confusion, then consulted the list. Next was Belfast Polka. I suddenly understood as a girl with a flute began dancing around the stage playing. An instrumental break. I decided to pay some more attention to Ryan and George, since I'd been spending more time concentrating on the others. George was taking a striped button down shirt off of his rack and heading to the dressing room. Ryan was still watching the screens, but smiled at me when I glanced at him. I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not usually this quiet," he said and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm just a little tired." I nodded. "I felt like that the first week of classes at university," I said. "I probably only got three hours a night throughout the week, then slept all day that Saturday." He laughed. "Ah, I remember university," he said. "What did you major in?" I asked. Probably music if he was here now. "Accounting, actually." I raised my eyebrows. "Wow," I said. "And now you're here." He laughed. "Yeah," he said and stood. "My song is next." "Okay, see you in a few," I said. He glanced behind me and I turned just in time to see Damian hit Keith in the arm. Paul and Keith were laughing hysterically. Damian huffed and looked at the screens. "Not funny," he said. "On the contrary, we found it absolutely hilarious!" Paul said, still laughing. "What's so funny?" I asked Keith. He had settled down some. Damian was watching me out of the corner of his eye, and I was watching him too, but I focused on Keith. "We were just teasing our little Damian," Keith said and nudged Damian again. Damian smacked his arm. "Bugger off," he said. Paul laughed harder, if that was possible. I thought he was going to fall over. "Damian, be nice," I said. "You're going to give Paul a heart attack." Paul elbowed Damian. "Yeah, listen to your woman, Damian. Don't you know better?" he said. I blushed. So did Damian. I wondered if I should correct them... Was there even anything to correct? Were we dating? Was it even possible for us to date? "Paul, I just met her today," Damian said, glaring at the man. So that was it. Just like that, I was labeled as acquaintance. "Don't scare her off please." Or not. I felt a smile tugging at the corners on my mouth. This group of men was so confusing, yet fun and nice. There must be a word for it. I was determined find one that accurately explained the atmosphere surrounding this group of Irishmen and Scotsman (You can learn a lot from Wikipedia). I hadn't been paying attention to the time, but all too soon, Damian stood and said he had to get ready for his song. That meant Ryan was almost done with his song. I needed to pay attention to the screens more. Ryan walked off the stage and a light came up on Damian. I settled in my seat to watch him sing. I didn't take much notice as Ryan came in and went into the dressing room. Damian started to sing. It was the Irish song he sang earlier that day. I paid special attention to the rest of the song. It was beautiful. For some reason, I wanted to go to Ireland really badly. Maybe it was because I was suddenly delving into the culture and hanging out with a bunch of Irishmen. When Damian came back, I noticed Paul walk on stage. I was too excited to watch another song right now. I went straight to Damian when he came in. "That was amazing," I said. "Now I'm wishing you'd sang it all earlier today." He smiled at me and chuckled. "I offered to," he said. "You're the one who said 'Maybe later'." I elbowed him. "Every man has his faults," I said. "But not every woman," Damian said, laughing. I fixed him with a teasing glare. "Flattery will get you nowhere, my friend," I said and returned to the TV monitors. Paul was holding out a long note. It seemed to be causing him pain. I snickered and watched Damian put on a black suit jacket. Zara came in and sat next to me. "How's it goin' so far?" she asked. I smiled. "It's awesome," I said with a laugh. "The guys are awesome. The lyrics to the songs that I've paid attention to are awesome." She laughed. "Well, the next one is all five of them, so it'll just be you and me in here," she said. "I find it entertaining to watch this particular song. The comedians of the group really shine through." She glanced at Paul. I laughed. "I could tell he was the funny one already," I said. "Him and Keith and Damian." "Ryan actually is too, but lately he's not been getting enough sleep," she said. She looked worried. "I honestly don't know how much more of it his body can take. I'm trying to work with Sharon and Phil to get a two day break in the tour somewhere. He really just needs to sleep a day away." I studied her face a moment. "You really care about him, don't you?" I whispered. She made sure no one else was paying attention--they were all getting ready to leave for the next song. She looked me in the eye. "Aye," she said. "Very much so." I smiled. "That's so sweet," I said. "Yeah," she said, trailing off and turning back to the TV screens. I felt like I had said something wrong. The guys left for the stage and we were alone. Zara noticed me watching her, but didn't really do anything. "The lyrics to this one go by really fast, so you better pay attention," she said. I slowly turned just in time to see Damian start singing. "There were three old gypsies came to our hall door. They came brave and boldly-o. One sang high and the other sang low and the lady sang the raggle taggle gypsy-o." He went clapping in time to the beat as Keith came on stage behind him. "It was upstairs and downstairs the lady went. Put on her suit of leather-o. 'Twas the cry all around the floor: 'She was lookin' for the raggle taggle gypsy-o'." Keith joined Damian in clapping and Paul entered the stage. "It was late that night that the lord came in inquirin' for his lady-o"--he did a little hip thrust on "lady-o" and I laughed--"The servant girl replied to her lord 'She's away wi' the raggle taggle gypsy-o." Damian gave Paul a look and Paul shrugged. George's turn. "Oh, then saddle for me my milk white steed. Me big horse is not speedy-o. I will ride and I'll seek me bride. She's away wi' the raggle taggle gypsy-o" Ryan came on last. "Oh, then he rode east and he rode west. He rode north and south also. But when he rode to the wild open field, it was there he spied his lady-o." Damian, Keith, Paul, and George slowly brought their hands down from a clap, then all five of them ran off stage. A spotlight came up on a drummer. I wasn't interested if they weren't singing anymore, and my attention was quickly gained by Damian's entrance into the room. He came and sat down next to her with a smile on his face. "How did ya like that one?" he said. I laughed. "It was good," I said. "Paul was funny." "Aye," he said. "At least he thinks so." Paul made a jibe back--I didn't see exactly what he said--but he playfully slapped Damian's arm and they both laughed. "I'm just kidding, Paul, you know that," Damian said. "You're probably the source of all the craic that goes on 'round here." "Crack?" I asked. Damian laughed. "Yeah, craic," he said. "Like jokes and playing around and whatnot." He picked up a water bottle with a "D" on it in Sharpie and took a long swig from it. I noticed Ryan had taken the stage and his camera was panning up his frame to his face. He started singing. "Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? You've been out ridin' fences for so long now." This one vaguely held my interest, but I remembered seeing "Desperado" on the YouTube list, so I would come back to it. I turned to Damian. "How long do you have before you have to go back on stage?" I asked. "I have until this song is over," he said, taking another drink. "So about three and a half minutes." That was enough time. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk?" I asked. "Alone?" He nodded and stood. I followed. He said something to George, then left the room. I followed him down the hallway to another room like the one we had just left, except it was empty and the lights were out. He flicked the switch and one wall of lights came on. He closed the door behind us and then turned to face me. "Is everything okay?" he asked. He looked genuinely concerned. I didn't know where to start. I probably looked like a fish, opening and closing my mouth. "You didn't correct them," I said and winced. He wouldn't understand what I meant. "No, I didn't," he said. Or, ya know, he could be on totally the same page. I was speechless for a moment. He looked so serious. "Why not?" I asked. "Isn't there a correction to make?" "Do you want there to be a correction?" he asked me. "I don't." I was breathing very heavily. "I don't want there to be one either," I said. "But how can this work? You're leaving when? Tomorrow? Tonight? You have a family back in Ireland and I have university here in--" He put a finger on my lips. I looked at him, begging him to think this through rationally, and not just with his feelings, though I was ecstatic that he wanted this. "I leave tomorrow morning," I said. "I'll come and see you before then and I'll have come up with a solution. I don't want to give you up." He smiled quickly, then let it fall. "I've never felt this way about someone before," he admitted. "It' kind of scares me, but in a good way. Like when roller coasters scare you at first, then you realize it's fun. You are my roller coaster. And I don't think I ever want to get off." He turned his head towards the door, then looked back at me. "I'm going to miss my song," he said. "We'll talk later." I nodded in consent and let him lead me back to the changing room. I returned to watching the monitors. It was Zara's turn to evaluate me. I ignored her and focused on the screen where all of the guys were on stage--"It's a working man I am"--thinking about what he had said. It scared me too. I was scared of being hurt. I had been scared of bees until I was sixteen... until I got stung and it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. I had a feeling this kind of hurt would be of a more lasting consequence than a bee sting. I hardly noticed when the song ended and they all took a spot in the middle of the stage, Damian center. I watched him sing. "Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling from glen to glen and down the mountainside. The summer's gone and all the roses' falling. 'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide." I started when I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I hastily wiped it away and hoped Zara hadn't noticed. It was just that Damian seemed to be singing directly into the camera... directly to me... And it hurt. It hurt to think that I hadn't given him the chance immediately. That I had even questioned him. He deserved my confidence. My mood lightened as I became determined to tell him as soon as he came back. I paid attention to the song again. They were all singing, and I couldn't tell who was singing lead. "But come ye back when summer's in the meadow or when the valley's hushed and white with snow. 'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow."--Paul took lead--"Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy. I love you so." Now George took lead. "Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy." Paul took over lead, I think. "I love you... so." I smiled. As lights came back up on Keith, who had put on a black hat, Damian came in with the other guys. I stood and went to him immediately. "Can we finish our conversation?" I asked. He looked hesitant. "I only have like a minute," he said. "That's okay," I said. "I'll just say it now. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I was so... pessimistic about our whole situation. I think we can try and make this work. I'll brainstorm tonight too, then whenever you decide to come by tomorrow morning, we can--oof!" I was cut off when he pulled me into a tight hug. When he pulled back he was smiling. "Thank you," was all he said before heading back out the door. I returned to the screens in time to see the end of Keith's song. "And we'll go marching down the road to freedom. Freedom. Freedom." I paid close attention when Damian took the stage. I smiled when I recognized the first song he sang to me. "Like a bird without wings that longs to be flying." I hardly remember watching the rest of the song. The next thing I knew, Damian was behind me, saying he had to change and he'd be right back out. I needed to snap out of it. I think the sight of Paul in a gray suit and black hat did that for me. Surely he realized that the hat did not match his outfit. I didn't want to say anything about it. I was no fashion major, but still... Damian came back out and sat next to me for almost a minute, just staring at me. I couldn't help but laugh, which made him smile. We didn't actually say anything. When he stood, he said they were all in the next song. I consulted the list. "Take Me Home" and then Intermission. I frowned. It was already half over? I looked at my watch. It was already eight o'clock. Time flies when you're having fun, I suppose. I watched the screens as Ryan started singing. "I sit here thinkin' as the sun is sinkin' low o'er the mountains and the dry dusty ground." Damian's turn. "As the night is fallin' I start recallin' the nights in my own hometown." Now Keith. "I see their faces in familiar places. I hear the music that we played way back then." Paul sang next. "My heart rejoices as I hear the voices calling me home again." Now all of them. "Home. Oh, take me home. Home to the people I left behind. Home to the love I know I'll find. Oh, take me home." I smiled. George started singing. "As the sky is burning, my mind is turning to the cold winter evenings by my own fire side." They all started singing. "So far away now, but any day now, I'll sail on the morning tide. Home. Oh, take me home. Home to the people I left behind. Home to the love I know I'll find. Oh, take me home." Ryan and Keith sang the next line. "Take me home, far across the sea." Everyone joined in. "Home is where I long to be. Home. Oh, take me home. Home to the people I left behind. Home to the love I know I'll find. Oh, take me home. Home. Oh, take me home. Home to the people I left behind. Home to the love I know I'll find. Oh, take me home. Take me home." I was completely smiling at the end of the song. The guys took a bow then ran off stage as the instruments kept playing. I started a little when the screens went black. I looked at Zara. "They turn the cameras off during intermission," she said. "Save on film." I laughed a little, then went to meet the guys as they came back into the room. Keith immediately grabbed clothes off his rack and went into the changing room. I laughed at him as Damian made his way over to me. We stood in the middle of the room just laughing. Paul and George took clothes off their racks and went to find another place to change. Ryan walked into a corner behind Damian and leaned against the wall. For the first time, I noticed a few dresses hanging on the back of Ryan's rack as Zara grabbed a bright red one and left as well. Damian pulled me into a tight hug. I inhaled that scent that I would forever identify with him. The storm smell. I laughed at that. He pulled away and put his hands on either side of my face. I put my hands on his and rubbed the back of his hands with my thumbs, smiling right into his eyes. "Lila..." He leaned closer. My heart leapt and I thought, "He's going to kiss me!" His lips were about an inch away from mine and his eyes were closed when I saw something move behind him. I leapt back and squealed. Damian just made a confused face. "Ryan!" I screamed and ran to him. He was lying in an unconscious heap on the floor. --Mwahaha cliffhanger >:] at least i have the next one ready, but you gotta give feedback first haha--
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Post by damianrocks on Jan 4, 2010 16:00:49 GMT -5
Fyi, I did the concert in the order of the Take Me Home DVD. I know there were changes on the tour. I might go back and fix them later. :/ And I brought part of the first DVD in later with Paul's outfit. But that's' it.
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Post by damianrocks on Jan 5, 2010 13:43:40 GMT -5
OK I guess that deserves an update. lol it's a short one... so i might do 2.... still debating. lol
--Chapter 4: Intermission--
Damian ran out of the room shouting, "PAUL, KEITH, GEORGE, ZARA!!!!!" Ryan's skin was clammy and he was sweating very badly. His heartbeat was regular, which was good. Keith came clambering out of the changing room, buckling his belt.
"What's all the shouting about?" he asked, then saw Ryan. "Oh, my god." He took the same path Damian had and ran out of the room shouting, "PAUL, DAMIAN, GEORGE, ZARA!!!!!" I saw that his shirt wasn't tucked in at the back. I sighed. Was no one going to help me here?
"Come on, Ryan," I said, trying to get him in a sitting position. To no avail. I had no upper body strength. "Ugh." Damian came back with Zara, Paul, Keith, and George. Paul was on the phone.
"Paul's talking with the medical staff we have on standby," Damian said. "Never thought we'd need it." He and George hoisted Ryan off the floor while Keith and I lined up the chairs to make a bed of sorts. Paul closed his phone.
"They're on their way up," he said as the medics walked through the door. "Or they're already here." They moved Ryan to the room next door, to give him space. We waited for a verdict. A minute later, one of them came back in. We all stood.
"He's going to be okay," he said. We all let out a sigh of relief. "But he's going to have to stay lying down for a while. We're making sure he sleeps for at least a half hour. He should be fine by the end of the concert. We'll let you know when he can go back on stage." He left. We all looked at each other. My heart was pounding.
"What do we do?" Keith asked. Zara went to the TV screens and grabbed the list of songs.
"The show must go on," she said. "You guys need to pick who's going to sing Ryan's remaining songs." They all stared at her like she had three heads. "Who can do 'Heartbreaker'?" No answer. "FOR PETE'S SAKE! WHO?!?!?!" They all jumped.
"I can," Damian said quickly. Zara wrote it down.
"Okay," she said. "Go out before the music starts and explain to the audience that Ryan is ill, but should be back before the concert's over." He nodded. "Keep on what you're wearing now for that, then hurry and change for 'Sweet Sixteen'." Damian nodded. "'Every Breath You Take'?" Paul raised his hand. "Okay. Just wear what you have on now because that goes right into 'Steal Away'." Paul nodded. "I'll tell Neil to sing Ryan's part on 'Steal Away'. Okay...." She flipped to the end of the list. "'That's a Woman'. Paul, you're obviously already in that. Damian will be in his skinny jeans right before that, so he needs to change. Keith." Keith flinched. "Keith, do you know all Ryan's words to 'That's a Woman'?" Keith nodded. "Good. Keep your same changing routine. Your outfit for 'Ireland's Call' will work for 'That's a Woman'. So you'll just have 'Breakin' Up Is Hard to Do' to change and then you're on." Keith nodded and wiped his forehead. "Ryan should be better by then for 'Ireland's Call' and 'Caledonia'. If not, George, sing his solo on 'Ireland's Call'. Damian, sing his solo on 'Caledonia'." They nodded. Zara wrote all this down, then sighed. She looked at her watch. "Head on out to the stage, Damian." He started to the door.
I followed and took his hand.
"Do you want me to come with you to the side of the stage?" I whispered. He squeezed my hand and led me down the hallway. I stayed close to his side the whole way. It took a lot longer to get to the stage than I thought it would. We got to the black curtains on the side of the stage, just out of sight from the audience. I peeked. People were sitting back down. There were a lot of them too. It made me nervous, and I wasn't even going on stage. Damian put a hand on the side of my face and made me look at him.
"Can you wait here for me until the song is over?" he asked. His hand was shaking. I nodded.
"Yes," I whispered. His thumb rubbed my cheek.
"Thank you," he said and brought his lips down to mine.
--The moment you've all been waiting for. lol the kiss. i'm gonna go ahead and put the next chapter up. i gotta edit it though... has 2 bad words. :3--
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Post by damianrocks on Jan 5, 2010 13:46:41 GMT -5
Shortest ch followed by the logest lol
--Chapter 5: A Heartbreaker's Not So Sweet Sixteen--
I think I stopped breathing. My heart was beating at the walls of my chest, dying to jump out and dance all around the room. I closed my eyes and savored the feel of Damian's lips against mine; the smell of his breath as it mingled with mine; the slightly salty, slightly sugary taste of his lips. My hands grabbed his sleeves and I leaned into him. I could tell when he wanted to pull away, and I tried to follow, standing on the tips of my toes, but he was too tall. The kiss was over. I opened my eyes to see he was waiting for my attention.
"I have to go," he said. "I'll be back in a few minutes." His hand rubbed up and down my arm. I nodded, slightly aware that my mouth was open.
"Good luck," I said, forcing my jaw to close. He smirked. I smiled.
"Luck o' the Irish," he said and bent to give me a swift kiss. I put a hand on his neck to try and keep him there, but he was stronger than I was. No upper body strength, remember? He smiled and winked at me before he walked out on stage. I could see the entire audience. They were clapping and yelling things, obviously happy to see him. I was slightly amazed at how someone so... normal... could make people have this kind of reaction. I looked at Damian. He smiled and waved, waiting for them to settle down. He looked at the man who was sitting at the piano on the side of the stage closest to me. He raised a finger, indicating for the man to wait. The man shrugged and settled into his seat to wait.
I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder, but only from surprise. My jaw dropped when I saw what Zara was wearing. It was a beautiful red dress that came to the floor and flowed with every move she made.
"Beautiful dress," I said. She smiled at me.
"Thanks," she said. "There's TV monitors right there if you want to watch from a better angle." She pointed to the down-stage side wall. I could see both the stage and the monitors clearly from one spot.
"Thanks," I said and headed towards the screens. Damian had just started to calm down the audience and was laughing at them. He licked his lips. So did I. Did he taste me like I tasted him? His smile slightly faded as he began to talk.
"Well, welcome back to the show, everybody," he said. "Unfortunately, there's been a little accident backstage. Uhh, Ryan has fallen ill and will be sitting out for a bit of the concert. Don't worry, he'll be back on his feet in about half an hour and he'll be back on stage without a doubt before the concert is over. But, we didn't feel like ripping you off, so you're still going to hear the songs, but the rest of us will be filling in for Ryan until he's back on his feet. So excuse any mistakes and whatnot; these aren't really our songs to know." He laughed. I guessed the audience was too. "All right! Let's get this party started! Phil!" He turned and pointed to the man at the piano and ran to center stage, where a girl in a blue dress was sitting, holding a cello. The musicians started playing. On one of the screens I could see the audience screaming and clapping, then settling in to hear the song. I looked to Damian. He had a slightly devilish smirk on his face. What was this song about again?
"They say that I'm a bad boy."
Oh.
"That I just can't help myself. That even though I know I should." He kneeled down next to the cellist. "I'm just too bad to be good." I didn't like the look she gave him. I scowled. He stood back up. Zara walked on stage and watched him. "They call me a romancer, a chancier, a gigolo." He was openly flirting with the cellist! It may be part of the choreography, but still. Paul came up beside me and Zara walked to Damian and the cellist. "Who'll always have an alibi. Who'll kiss the girls and make them cry." Zara made a pose that clearly stated she did not like his flirting either. Damian looked at her and lifted his hands and Zara started to walk away. "I never meant to hurt you." He stopped her. "I never meant to break your heart in two. I'm sorry if I hurt you." She smiled a little at him. "I'm sorry, but it's what I seem to do." She frowned and turned on her heel and walked away. Damian's face made me smile. "They call me a heartbreaker." His smirk returned. "Nothing but a heartbreaker." He walked past the cellist, giving her a meaningful look, and took down center stage. Zara was down right, next to the piano. "They say I'm the dark destroyer." He held his hand out to Zara. She walked to him. "That I just can't get enough of girls hanging on a string." She frowned and walked out of his arms. He followed her and they turned to each other. "That I'm only after one thing." She slapped him across the face. I gasped. Did she really hit him or did they just fake it? Zara walked away. Damian continued. "That I'm filled with desire. A liar, a Romeo." He headed back by the cellist. "Like a bee in a honey comb, welcome to the pleasure dome." Zara rolled her eyes and I narrowed mine. Paul rubbed my arm. I think he could tell it was uncomfortable for me. Zara walked off stage and I saw her almost sprint for the door. Damian looked after her and gave an exasperated shrug. "I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to break your heart in two. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm sorry but it's what I seem to do." He smirked at the cellist. "They call me a heartbreaker. Nothing but a heartbreaker." He knelt down next to the cellist and watched her play a solo. When it was finished, he stood. "I just can't live without it: the thrill of a woman's touch." He ran his fingers across her shoulders. "It's written in the stars above: I'm just addicted to love." He began walking downstage. "But they all want to tame me, to chain me, and tie me down." He threw his arms back on "chain" to signify being in shackles. "Don't they know I was born to be footloose and fancy free?" He began walking little by little down the side of the stage furthest from me. "I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to break your heart in two. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm sorry, but it's what I seem to do." He backed up as he sang the next lines. "They call me a heartbreaker. Nothing but a heartbreaker." He had backed up to the cellist now and stood behind her, lifting his chin high. I saw the crowd go nuts, and I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.
I walked back to where Damian had left me... where we'd kissed. He came straight to me, grabbed my arm gently, and led me out the door Zara had run through. He walked backwards so he could tell me something.
"Well, that was extremely nerve-wracking," he said and laughed. "I don't think I ever want to do that again." I laughed.
"You did really good," I said, then blushed. "Made me a little jealous, actually." He quirked his head to the side.
"Really?" I nodded. "Huh... Well, I don't think you have to worry about that anymore. All of my songs are fairly innocent. I think the most flirting I do is give one of the violinists a rose." I laughed.
"I think I can handle that," I said. "Question."
"Shoot."
"Did Zara really hit you?" I said laughing. He smiled and rubbed his cheek.
"Actually yeah," he said. "She wasn't supposed to, but we'd never practiced it, and I probably would have messed it up if she didn't hit me."
"How so?" I asked.
"Oh ya know," he said. "Like turned my head the wrong way or something like that." He imitated slapping himself, but turned his head towards the slap instead of away from it. I laughed.
"That would have been funny," I said.
"That would have been disastrous," he said. "Luckily, Zara knows what she's doing and I know better than to question her."
"dang straight!" I saw Zara shout as she ran past us to the stage. She was now in a long white dress. It was even more beautiful than the red one and I hadn't thought that was possible. She looked like an angel. An angel that had just yelled "dang straight" through the hallway. I laughed.
When we got back to the dressing room, Damian grabbed a shirt and slacks from his rack and ran to the changing room. I sat down next to Keith by the TVs. He was looking at the door Damian had just bolted through.
"What?" I asked. He looked at me, then turned all the way around in the chair so he could sit up straight. He yelled at the door.
"You better be light on your toes, McGinty!" he yelled. "You've got thirty seconds before your song starts playing!" He then laughed at something Damian said. I raised an eyebrow in question. "I think he hit his head on something." Keith was still laughing as Damian bolted out the door, pulling up his zipper. Keith threw a rose at him. "Think fast!" Damian caught it and put it between his teeth as he ran out of the room, shoving his shirt tail down his pants. I giggled and turned to the TV screens. Paul was already off the stage and four girls were singing into microphones. Keith started laughing. "Doesn't he know his mic is on?!" Tears started to pour out of his eyes.
--//--
"Oh for the love of--" I was nowhere near the stage. I could hear the girls singing already! "Sh***!" I tried to keep my running at an even pace so I could breathe right for singing. They should have turned my mic on already, so I hoped they could at least hear me. "Tonight's the night I've waited for." Well that note had a nice vibrato. Thank you, stairs. "Because you're not a baby anymore." I slammed through the door and ran through the wings to the stage. No time to go around to my actual entrance door. The girls were facing the other direction. "You've turned into the prettiest girl I've ever seen." I tossed the rose to the girl on the end as I passed her. I wasn't really supposed to give it to her, but hey. Improv. She squeaked in surprise and all the girls turned around, then hurried into their positions for the microphones. The audience laughed. "Happy birthday sweet sixteen."
--//--
I laughed as Damian almost tripped onto the stage and tossed the rose to the first violinist he came to, making all of them jump in surprise. He was smiling as he sang "Happy birthday sweet sixteen." I could see he was out of breath, but he was apparently coping, because he got through all the phrases without turning blue. "What happened to that funny face? My little tomboy now wears satin and lace. I can't believe my eyes. You're just a teenage dream. Happy birthday sweet sixteen." He did a little spin thing and I saw that his shirt was still untucked in the back. Keith and I almost fell over laughing. He kept right on going, snapping on the beat. "When you were only six, I was your big brother. Then when you were ten, we didn't like each other. When you were thirteen, you were my funny valentine." He had some funny little moves he had to do with his hands to the beat and I laughed even more. "But since you've grown up, the future is sown up: from now on you're gonna be mine. So..." He walked to the piano. "If I should smile with sweet surprise, it's just that you've grown up before my very eyes. You've turned into the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Happy birthday sweet sixteen." He hopped down to the floor and started walking across the stage with a cheesy bounce in his step. "Tra la la la la la la la la. Happy birthday sweet sixteen." Keith got up and left for the stage. "Tra la la la la la la la la. Happy birthday sweet sixteen." He did another spin and walked across the stage more, dropping to one knee. "If I should smile with sweet surprise, it's just that you've grown up before my very eyes." He walked over next to the guitarist. "You've turned into the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Happy birthday sweet sixteen." He put a hand on the guitarist's shoulders and they both did a little box-like step to the beat. "Tra la la la la la la la la. Happy birthday sweet sixteen. Tra la la la la la la la la. Happy birthday sweet sixteen." He walked to center stage on the set of stairs between the orchestra and band. "Tra la la la la la la la la. Happy birthday sweet sixteen." He turned on his heel and spun around, ending with a salute. It was only then that he started to crack up. He was laughing extremely hard as he left the stage. Heck, I was still cracking up.
Damian came ambling back into the room as Keith started to sing. "So see the leaves fall to the ground and see them lying all around." Damian collapsed onto the chairs next to me. I giggled at him.
"Oh my God, that was awful!" he said, laughing. I leaned over him, looking straight into his eyes. We were both laughing hysterically. "I think the entire audience heard me swear."
"What? Why?" I asked, still laughing. My sides were starting to hurt.
"I said 'sh***' when the girls started singing and I think they already had my mic turned on," he said and put his hand on his head.
"So that's what Keith was talking about!," I said laughing. He moaned (or laughed, I couldn't tell the difference) and rubbed his eyes.
"Oh, God," he said. "I don't think anything has ever gone more wrong in my life!" He moved his hand and looked right into my eyes. I don't think he realized I was so close. "Oh, hello." I smirked.
"Hey, stranger," I said. He chuckled.
"You know, you're even beautiful upside down," he said.
"I could say the same about you," I said with a laugh.
"You saying I'm beautiful?" he said with a smile.
"I'm saying you're extremely gorgeous," I said. He blushed. "And I have this very strong urge to kiss you." His full smile turned into a half smirk.
"I'm not stopping you," he said. My smile grew wider as I leaned down and kissed him upside down. It was a little bit weird, but not unpleasant. At all. It just felt a little bit backwards.
I stopped when he started to move. I didn't know which way he was going. He sat up straight and turned towards me. I laughed and he smiled. I closed my eyes as he leaned in. I could get used to this. It was almost like getting a mouth massage. I giggled. I felt him laugh through my hand on his chest. I don't know why, but I got the impression that he would have a very deep voice. For some reason, that sent chills down my spine and I curled my toes. I had just gotten the courage to try and open his mouth when he pulled away, so I wound up just licking his lips. We both laughed.
"Sorry," he said. I looked around the room. Keith was smiling at us as he put on a gray suit jacket. George was minding his own business. I looked to the screens to see that Paul and Zara were on stage. Zara had changed into yet another dress. They kept getting more and more gorgeous. It was black and gray and it flowed at any tiny move she made. Paul now had that smirk that Damian wore in Heartbreaker. Ryan must have had all the sneaky roles. Personally, I thought Damian pulled it off better than Paul. Paul was just too... Paul. There wasn't a way to describe it, but he just couldn't be bad. Zara had danced across the stage and entered the room again. She sat down on my other side and picked up a pair of heels with metal on the soles. Damian gave me a kiss on the ear and left with Keith and George for their song. I giggled and turned back to the screens. I pulled my feet up onto my chair and hugged my legs, resting my chin on my knees. Zara smiled at me as she buckled on her new shoes.
"So," she said. "How did you and Damian meet? I missed that part of the story earlier." I laughed.
"Uhm," I said. "He kind of just... ran into me... literally. He almost knocked me over." She laughed.
"Oh, that does sound like something that would happen to him," she said. I laughed harder.
"Yeah," I said. "We sat and talked all morning long. And he sang to me a bit." I looked at my Converse. "I'd never really seen someone sing before." She touched my arm. I looked up.
"You'll like this song," she said, nodding to the screens. The four of them were standing on the stage. George was playing guitar. They started to sing.
"Steal away. Let's steal away. No reason left to stay. For me and you. Let's start anew and, darlin', steal away." I smiled.
"Aww, so cute."
Damian started singing by himself.
"Let's steal away and chase our dreams and hope they never find us." His eyes found the camera and my heart skipped a beat. "The dreary days; the empty nights; we'll leave them all behind us." The others joined in.
"Steal away. Let's steal away. No reason left to stay. For me and you. Let's start anew. And, darlin', steal away." George began singing.
"We'll leave with just our memories and we'll make a new beginning. We have to choose to win or lose. And it's time we started winning." He stopped playing the guitar as they all sang.
"Steal away. Let's steal away. No reason left to stay. For me and you. Let's start anew. And, darlin', steal away." His guitar playing resumed and Damian locked his eyes on the camera. I don't know if he blinked, but I don't think I did. "Steal away. Let's steal away. No reason left to stay. For me and you. Let's start anew. And, darlin', steal away." I probably looked crazy, sitting there giggling hysterically. Zara chuckled at me. I looked at her.
"I think I'd like to steal away with him," I admitted. She nodded.
"And I think he wouldn't mind that either," she said and laughed. Damian, Paul, and Keith came back into the room. Paul grabbed clothes from his rack and headed to the changing room, but Damian beat him to it, sticking his tongue out as he closed the door. Paul laughed and left for a different changing room. Keith sat next to Zara and we started to watch George sing. I'd missed the beginning of the song again. I needed to stop doing that.
"But I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk five hundred more just to be the man who walks a thousand miles and falls down at your door." I sighed and turned away, watching Keith and Zara. They were debating over her shoes.
"The heel is just way too long," Keith was saying. "If you step on my foot, I'll lose a toe." She rolled her eyes.
"Keith, it's my job to know where I put my feet and when," she said. "And I hardly ever put weight on the heel anyways. Even if I did, you wouldn't lose a toe. You're just nervous about doing a song that you haven't rehearsed seriously." He whimpered and dropped his head onto the counter in front of him. Zara sighed and rubbed his back. She looked at me. "He's such a baby," she mouthed so I would understand, but he wouldn't hear. I laughed. Zara nudged his side. "Come on, it's time for you to head to the stage." He raised his head and took a deep breath.
"Ugh!" He stood and walked out of the room. Paul came back in and hung up his clothes. He sat on Zara's other side, where Keith had just left from. Keith came on camera and started singing.
"Gonna take a little time. A little time to think things over." My attention was taken by Damian emerging from the changing room.
"Bloody skinnys," he was mumbling. He hung his old outfit over his rack and began playing with the hem of his skinny jeans. He walked over to us and sat next to me. "I hate them. These probably aren't even my size!" Paul rolled his eyes and Zara patted Damian sympathetically on the shoulder. He took my hand and started rubbing my fingers. His hands were extremely warm. "Your fingers are freezing," he commented. I chuckled.
"They usually are," I said. "I was just thinking that yours were really hot." He laughed.
"Yeah, I know," he said. "I think it's hereditary. My dad has really warm hands as well." He sighed and stood. "Gotta go." He kissed the hand he still held, then left. Keith came in and changed. I sighed and looked to the TV screens to watch Damian's song. There were only two singers at the mics now, and a cheesy prop mic stand was set up at center stage. Damian entered from up center and walked to the stand. I laughed throughout this one. He had so many cheesy moves and he milked it for all it was worth. He was having fun making fun of himself... if that made sense. The best part was at the end when he did this funny leg move. He looked like he needed to go to the bathroom. I almost fell out of my chair I was laughing so hard. Keith left for the stage with Paul and Zara. When Damian came back, he grabbed clothes from his rack and went to the changing room. George came to sit by me.
"How's life been treatin' ya, lassie?" he said. I giggled.
"I'd say fairly well today," I said. "But that's not always the case. Hopefully this will be a positive turning point for me." I jumped when a paramedic came into the room. George went to talk to him. I looked at the door to the changing room, then to the TV monitors, then to the paramedic.
I saw him say "he's already headed towards the stage! We couldn't keep him down once he woke back up." I immediately turned back to the screen. So far, Keith and Paul were arguing over a woman's true qualities.
Keith was saying "Look in her eyes, you'll see nothing but lies! She's a woman!" Was Ryan planning on interrupting the song? Why not just wait for the next one? Damian sat next to me. The paramedic had left. So had George. I kept my eyes fixed on the screens. I saw Damian give me a strange look out of the corner of my eye. He would see in a moment. My knee was bouncing and I was picking at my nails. I was anxious to see what Ryan would do, if anything. And then it happened.
I could see Ryan sitting back by the band watching. He was in shadow though, because his spotlight was following Keith. Keith saw Ryan and they had a silent conversation. Ryan was planning something and told Keith to just go on doing what he was already doing, so he sang.
"Be wise, be weary, and be on your guard. That's how to handle a woman!" By now, Paul and Zara had seen Ryan. Zara couldn't keep the smile from her face. It was obvious she wanted to go to him, but she stayed next to Paul and they did their little dance. Zara kept her eyes on Ryan the whole time. Ryan was walking down the stage now, observing and plotting. A new spotlight found him and that's when Damian saw him. He sat up straight.
"Ryan!" I put my hand on his shoulder and sat him back down.
"Shh."
Zara did a dance move, looking Ryan in the eye. Ryan turned toward the audience.
"Look at her body and look at her move. Now that's what I call a woman!" She did another dance step. "I'm thinking now I've got something to prove, 'cause that's what I call a woman!" Keith and Paul were approaching Ryan slowly, worried looks on their faces. "All my moves are stalling here. I can't get through to this woman. The pipes, the pipes are calling here. I think I could be falling here for this woman!" Ryan and Zara twirled around each other. "What a woman!" Paul sang his verse.
"Faithful and true, that's a woman..." While Keith sang his old verse.
"Treat her as if you just don't give a dang..." And Ryan did the spoken parts.
"She couldn't be true. She's just playing with you. What a woman!" I looked at Damian. He was smiling and nodding his head to the beat. Whatever they had done, it was good. I turned back to the screen in time to see the ending. Ryan and Zara were center, and he had her in a dip. Keith was to their left and Paul was to their right.
"That's a wo...."
"Who would've thought I'd ever get caught?"
"What a woman!"
I giggled. Zara hugged Ryan before leaving the stage with him and Keith. Paul stayed and began the next song.
"When I am down, and oh my soul so weary..."
Zara, Keith, and Ryan burst back into the room. Damian gave Ryan a hug.
"Hey, you all right, mate?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "I think that was the best we've ever done that song. We should consider making that a permanent change." Keith passed out. "Or not." George came back in and smacked Ryan on the back of the head.
"You couldn't just leave well enough alone." Ryan smirked at him.
"Nope." George just sighed and sat down. Ryan turned to Zara. "Any way we can keep the footage from tonight? I wanna see what you all did in my absence."
"No, you don't," Damian said and sat down next to me again. Zara had gotten Keith to wake up again.
"heck yes you do!" Keith shouted. "Sweet Sixteen was hilarious!" Damian blushed and I rubbed his arm. Ryan just looked confused.
"That's not even one of my songs," he said. Keith sat down next to Damian and put his arm around his shoulders.
"Ah yes, but Damian did Heartbreaker and only had one song to change clothes!" Damian scowled at him. "He didn't make it to the stage on time, so he started singin' out in the hallway. But they turned on his mic early and they heard a few interesting expletives out in the audience." Damian leaned forward and banged his head on the counter. Everyone was laughing now, even Damian was chuckling. When he came back up, there were tears in his eyes.
"Oh God, that was disastrous," he said. "If you do watch it, do it after I'm asleep, please."
"Not a chance," Ryan said. "You're gonna watch every second of it." Damian groaned. They all stood and left for the next song, except Zara. I looked at the screens. Paul was holding out another long, painful-looking note. I turned back to Zara.
"I bet you were really worried about him," I said. She gave a weak smile as she changed back into her normal heels.
"Aye," she leaned back in her chair. "Am I that obvious?" I smiled.
"No, I'm just more observant than others," I said. "I have to be to make up for a lost sense. All my other four senses are heightened. Sometimes I don't know if that's good or bad." I laughed. She quirked her head.
"What do you mean by that?" I thought a moment.
"Well, I also have a very active imagination," I said. "For example: when Damian came to get me tonight, I smelled him before I saw him. He smells like rain and grass, and my mind immediately flashed back to when I would watch thunder storms with my older brother. And now I will forever associate Damian with storms." Zara chuckled and I smiled.
"That's not necessarily a bad thing, though," she said. I grunted in assent, and turned back to the TV screens. They were just finishing their song.
"We'll answer Ireland's call!" They punched their fists in the air and they all had big smiles on their faces as they ran off stage. I looked at the song list. Appalachian Roundup then Caledonia and curtain call... and it would be over. I felt kind of sad that it was almost done and I'd have to go home... Then in the morning, he had to leave. The five guys all came in, grabbed an outfit and found a changing room. Paul beat Damian this time and stuck his tongue out to Damian's face, like Damian had done earlier. It seemed more childish on Paul. I smiled. Damian winked at me as he left for another room. I felt my face blush. I turned back to the screens and watched the violinist hop around the stage. I could see people in the audience dancing. I had a sudden longing to hear the beat that they heard and felt. My mind wandered to the savings I had in my account... Zara nudged my arm and pointed to the screens. I looked. George was standing on stage... wearing a kilt. I bit back a laugh.
"I don't know if you can see the changes that have come over me. In these last few days I've been afraid that I might drift away." Paul's spotlight came up.
"I've been telling stories, singing songs that make me think about where I've come from. That's the reason why I seem so far away today." Keith was on the opposite side of the stage.
"Let me tell you that I love you and I think about you all the time. Caledonia, you're calling me and now I'm goin' home." The three of them sang together. I assumed in harmony. I wished I knew what harmony really was. I know the literal definition--the simultaneous combination of tones, esp. when blended into chords pleasing to the ear; chordal structure, as distinguished from melody and rhythm--but those were just words. I wanted to hear that "pleasing to the ear" part....
"But if I should become a stranger, know that it would make me more than sad. Caledonia's been everything I've ever had." They started walking towards center stage.
"I am moved and I've kept on movin'. Proved the points that I needed provin'. Lost the friends that I needed losin'. Found others on the way." Ryan came on stage.
"I've kissed the girls and left them cryin'. Stolen dreams, yes there's no denying." Damian came in behind him.
"I've travelled hard, sometimes with conscience flying somewhere in the wind." They were all in a line across the stage.
"Let me tell you that I love you and I think about you all the time. Caledonia, you're callin' me and now I'm goin' home. But if I should become a stranger, know that it would make me more than sad. Caledonia's been everything I've ever had." They marched upstage a few paces, and stood in a formation with their backs to the audience. Waiting for the opportune moment, I suppose. I remember reading that most musical works had a climax to the song. Maybe that's what they were waiting for. As if on cue, they all spun quickly on their heel, pointing at the audience. Their kilts twirled rather fabulously around them. I smiled.
"Let me tell you that I love you and I think about you all the time. Caledonia, you're callin' me and now I've goin' home. But if I should become a stranger, know that it would make me more than sad. Caledonia's been everything I've ever had." They ended the song by raising their right arm high into the air. A salute of some kind? Most likely Irish. I had just noticed that Zara was no longer in the room. Oh right. Bows.
The bows--or "curtain call" as the list said--seemed a joyous occasion. The guys were all laughing and bowing and clapping along with the audience--who was standing--and the band was playing. Everyone wore a smile. Zara came out on stage, gave Damian a kiss on the cheek, and hugged all the guys, taking a bow at center stage. Paul and Ryan were goofing off, trying to lift each other's kilts. Well... Paul was trying to lift Ryan's kilt for the whole audience to see. He never got it up more than an inch though. Ryan was quick. But they were all happy... and I was sitting there feeling sad because it was over. I leaned back and groaned.
Why was I so bummed out? I was tired. That was the excuse I would give. I was tired. Would I have to go straight home? I checked my watch. 9:05. I could stay out a little bit longer. But could he?
My question was almost immediately answered. They all came bursting back into the room. I couldn't help but smile at the five grown men in kilts--I considered Damian a grown man, yes. He made his way out of the mini-mob and sat next to me.
"Hey, are you hungry?" he asked. "I was thinking you and I could grab a bite to eat. What do you say?" I smiled.
"Okay," I said. "But... you are going to change first, right?" He laughed.
"No, I'm wearing a kilt around northern Indiana," he said. "Of course I'm going to change. I just didn't want to miss you in case you left or something." He stood. "I'll be right back." He kissed my forehead and left for the changing room. I smiled and stood, cracking my back. It popped a good five times. Keith came--almost literally--bouncing over. He had already changed out of his kilt outfit and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He gave a little whoop and hopped onto the counter beside me, his feet dangling over the edge.
"So, milady," he said. I smiled. I had a nickname already. "The rest of us were goin' to go scoutin' for the nearest pub. You want to come with?"
"Oh," I said, caught off guard. "Uhm, actually, Damian said he was going to take me to dinner...." I trailed off. Keith's eyes got wide.
"Oh!" He hopped down from the counter. "Understood! We'll stay out o' yer way." He gave an exaggerated wink and nudged me with his elbow. I laughed.
"Thanks, Keith," I said and ruffled his hair. He scrunched his nose.
"Now I know how Damian feels," he mumbled. I laughed. He went to try and fix his hair as Damian came back in the room wearing jeans, a plaid button down shirt, and Converse. He had brushed out all the gel from his hair and it curled like it had this morning. I think I liked it better this way. He looked older. He came up to me.
"Ready to go?" he asked. I nodded. "All right. You tell me what's good to eat in this town."
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Post by damianrocks on Jan 5, 2010 21:10:45 GMT -5
hahah ok! --Chapter 6: Interrogation-- I felt extremely hyper as we walked out of the building with the rest of the guys. I was suddenly full of energy and this was usually the time of day when I crashed. I was bouncing in the frigid November air, blowing clouds with my breath and laughing at the silly shapes I saw in them. When we go to the front of the building, we were mobbed by a bunch of girls and women of varying ages, who were throwing papers, CDs, and miscellaneous objects in front of the guys. Damian stood in front of me to sign all their things and made small talk. I saw one woman who looked to be in her late forties ask him to take her on a date. He just smiled and said, "Probably not, sorry." I gave the woman a disgusted look. That was just gross. She was old enough to be his mother! That's when people noticed me behind Damian. "Who is she?" the woman asked, pointing at me very rudely. The rest of the crowd joined in, some giving me dirty looks. I flinched back behind Damian, but he pulled me around to his side, laughing. I turned bright red. I didn't want to know what he was telling them. My eyes darted from face to face. Would I wind up in the Celtic Thunder discussion boards? Oh dear Lord, help me. I closed my eyes and buried my face in Damian's arm. I would just hide until it was all over. But Damian would not allow it. Stubborn Irishman. He turned his back to the crowd, and looked me in the eye. "Hey, hey . . . You're fine. You're all right." He rubbed my arm. "Let's blow this popsicle stand. What do you say?" I smiled. "I say 'heck yes'!" We squeezed back behind the rest of the guys. Damian said something to Keith, who smiled broadly and saluted. Damian grabbed my hand. "Run!" he said. And we were off. A couple of the girls chased us for a few blocks. They probably would have chased us until either they caught us or the police caught them. But Damian thought fast. He unzipped his coat and made sure they saw him drop it. He turned down the next street when they all dove for the coat. It was slightly comical, actually. I hadn't known how much humans acted like animals. We went a couple more blocks, making turns so we would be sure to lose them. We stopped and leaned against a building, catching our breath. I started laughing, but it probably sounded more like moans because I was out of breath. "Oh, my body's not used to that!" I reached for my toes, stretching my back and legs. I straightened and looked at him. He was still laughing slightly. "So, where are we gettin' dinner?" he asked. I looked around. "There's a Pizza Hut on the next street over," I suggested. He nodded. "Pizza Hut it is," he said. As we walked down the street, I felt him slip his hand into mine. I smiled and moved my fingers between his. We went in to the Pizza Hut and the waitress led us to a little booth in the corner furthest from the door. No one else was in the restaurant. It was rather late to be having dinner. We sat across from each other and ordered drinks. "So, what's your favorite?" I shrugged. "I like the stuffed crust," I said. "You can't get that anywhere else but here. They have good lasagna too. Why don't you choose something? I can have Pizza Hut every day if I want. You're the one traveling all the time." He nodded and opened the menu. "You like sausage?" he asked. "My favorite topping," I said with a smile. He closed the menu. "Stuffed crust with sausage," he said with a wink. I laughed. "Do you want me to order, or will you?" I teased. He shrugged. "I can," he said. "Okay," I said and stacked our menus on the end of the table. The waitress came with our drinks and took our order. "The one problem is there's a bit of a wait for the food," I said after she left. He shrugged. "I've got time. I told Keith I'd meet them all back at the hotel, so I need to be out while they're at the pub." I shook my head. "What is it with the Irish and drinking?" I asked. He smiled. "I don't know," he said. "Personally, I don't like any of the stuff the guys drink. Like Guinness. What is even in that stuff?" "I have no clue," I said laughing. "I've only had a sip of wine, and I almost chucked it back up. It was gross." He laughed. "I've just never really had an urge to drink," he said. "Technically, I'm not even old enough, but nobody really cares in the pubs in Ireland. People always assume I'm older than seventeen." "Well, you are tall," I commented. He chuckled. "That always helps. People at my school say I look like a middle-schooler. I think it's because I'm short. And possibly my haircut." "How can your haircut make you look younger?" he asked, confused. "Just the way it frames my face and whatnot," I said. "Even the different ways you style your hair makes a difference. You look younger when you spike it. You look more like you're nineteen when it's like this." "Huh," he said. "That's interesting." "Plus, your voice is really deep," I said. "That also adds to the illusion of maturity." "'The illusion of maturity'," he repeated with a chuckle. "I like the way you talk. You said you were a writer, correct?" I nodded as the waitress came with the pizza and two plates. "Here ya go," she said. "Anything else I can get you?" "No, thanks," Damian said with a smile. "Okay, I'll be back in a while to check on you guys," she said and left. "That was quick for this place," I said, putting two slices on a plate and putting it in front of him. He laughed. "Thanks," he said. I smiled. "Then again," I continued. "We are the only ones here." I proceeded to blow on the pizza until the steam died down. Damian just picked his up and took a bite right away. "Doesn't it burn your tongue?" He shrugged. "I'm finding it a little bit scary that you're acting like my brother." "I didn't know you had a brother," he said. I nodded, chancing a bite of my pizza. Still too hot. "Yeah," I said and took a sip of my Dr. Pepper. "He's twenty-one and goes to the university here. He's like... my mentor, so to speak. He's like a dad, almost." Damian had already started on his second piece of pizza. I started on mine, even though it was still hotter than I would have liked. "What about your mom and dad?" he asked. I swallowed my bite. "My mom died two and a half years ago," I said. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said. I waved a hand. "It's okay," I said. "I know where she is." I pointed to the ceiling. "I'm gonna see her again someday. My dad works all the time, and I think he hates me." I took another bite. "That's awful," he said. "Why would he hate you?" I pointed to my ears. "Oh . . . But it's not like it's your fault. I still don't understand how someone can hate their own child." He shoved his empty plate to the middle of the table. "Oh, he does," I said. "He's just good at hiding it. But all the stuff he ever does for me, is always benefitting him in some way." Damian fiddled with his straw wrapper. "But I'm going to make him proud of me. That's why I'm going to the best school I could find." I don't know how he managed to get that many knots in the straw wrapper without tearing it. I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything." The wrapper dropped into a little puddle of grease and turned orange. "Why?" he asked. "Because I made you upset!" I said and shoved my half-eaten pizza next to his plate. "I'm not hungry." He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "It just seems so unfair. Things like that make me angry. . . . Are you ready to go?" he asked. I nodded. "I'll get a box and you can go pay," I said. "All right." We both stood. I worked on putting all the leftovers into a box. Only three pieces had been eaten. The Celtic Thunder guys would have a snack on the bus tonight. I certainly wouldn't finish a pizza, and Dad and Nick won't eat sausage. I went up to Damian. "I'm going to the restroom. I'll be right back." "Okay," he said as he handed the cashier a twenty. I splashed cold water on my face. I didn't really care about makeup right now. I used paper towels and wiped it all off, leaving my face bare. Maybe he won't notice. I was reaching for the door handle when Damian wrenched it open and closed it quickly, pushing in the lock. He had all of our stuff and the pizza. "What the--?" He put a finger on my lips. "Shh," he said and paused, putting his ear to the door. "Those girls that were chasing us are here," he said. "I think they saw me, but . . . let's try to sneak out of--" He jumped away from the door. "Maybe not." I saw the handle shaking. "Are you sure that's not just someone needing to use the restroom?" I said. He sighed and leaned against the wall. I unlocked the door and opened it a little. There was a girl standing there, wearing a Celtic Thunder T-shirt. Damian was out of her line of sight, thank goodness. "I'm sorry, I might be a while," I said with an apologetic smile. "I know there's no one in the men's restroom if that's okay with you." She rolled her eyes and grabbed the door. "Yeah right, I heard you guys talking," she said. I kept a firm grip on the door, not letting her close enough to see him. "Who?" I said sweetly. Damian tapped my hand. I turned my head to him and pretended to cough. She jumped back, afraid to catch something. "Run for it," he mouthed. "Excuse me," I said, turning back to the girl. I let the door open and backed up against Damian as she entered. We slipped past her and ran for the door. I squealed as we turned the corner a little too quickly and pushed off the wall to get back on track. I looked back as we made it to the sidewalk. The girl was complaining to her friend, who was wearing Damian's coat. I laughed and we slowed to a walk. "Oh, my God, it's never been this bad," he said. "Then again, I'm usually with the rest o' the guys." He handed me my coat. "One of the prices of fame, I suppose. So, where are we headed now?" I looked at my watch. Ten forty. "I should probably be heading home," I said. "Oh," he said. "I'll walk with you, and then I'll know where to go in the morning." "All right." He took my hand again, holding the pizza box in one hand. "You can have the pizza, by the way. I won't eat it." He laughed. "Okay," he said. "Do you think I'll meet your dad tonight?" "Probably not," I said. "He won't come to the door." "Does he know you were out all evening?" "Yeah, I left a note." "Then he might be waiting up for you," he said. I snorted. "Doubt he gives a crap," I said, then looked at the ground. "Sorry. My dad and I are not on the best of terms right now." I pulled him down my street. We walked up the path to the door. The porch light was on. I turned to face him with a small smile. "I don't want you to go." He smiled and set the pizza box on a chair we had sitting out. "I'll be back in the morning," he said. "I swear I'll figure out how we can do this. The best things in life are worth fighting for, right?" I smiled. "Right," I said. "What time will you be here in the morning?" "Well, I have to be back at the hotel by eleven," he said. "So... ten? Nine? Take your pick. I'm easy to work with." I laughed. "Nine," I said. "Nine is good." "I'll see you at nine," he said. I smiled. "Good night," I whispered. Now kiss me, dangit. That is seriously what I thought. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long. He leaned in. I was still impatient, so I met him half way. He laughed into my mouth. I put my arms around his neck and he put his around my waist. I could feel his body heat through our shirts. It wasn't just his hands that were always warm. Dang. He was the one to move the kiss further this time. I happily let his tongue slide into my mouth. My toes curled as he licked the roof of my mouth. It tickled. I did the same to him and he actually flinched. I laughed. We were interrupted when the foyer light turned on. I took a step away from Damian, putting visible space between us, as my father opened the door. "Hi, Dad," I said. "Lila," he said. He didn't look angry, so that was good. "Dad, this is Damian," I said, nodding to Damian. Damian held out his hand and my dad shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jameson," Damian said. Thank goodness he remembered my last name. My dad nodded. "Come on in," he said and let us inside. I hung my coat on the rack and the three of us went to the Living Room. Damian and I sat on the couch (again, keeping visible distance between us) and my dad sat in his red easy chair. "Lila, why don't you go get some of your paintings to show Damian. I'm sure she told you she was an artist." Damian nodded. "Aye," he said. I had mentioned it in passing. "I'd like to see them." I sighed and rushed upstairs to get them. My dad just wanted to get me out of the room so he could interrogate him. I passed Nick's room. The door was open. He was sitting on his bed with a book, highlighter in hand. He was studying for an exam. "Hey," he said when he saw me standing in his doorway. "'Sup?" "Dad's interrogating my boyfriend," I said. The look on his face was priceless. I smiled and went into the spare room, which I had turned into an art studio. I paused a moment, looking at my unfinished painting of Damian. I'd finish that tonight. I picked my dad's favorite, my favorite, and my newest one, and brought them downstairs. Nick's door was closed. My dad was talking when I got back, and his back was to me. He stopped when Damian's eyes found mine, and turned to me. "Ah!" he said. "Let's see what you picked." I turned the first one over. It was an abstract painting. It was basically just smeared red, white, and blue paint, but I liked it. I have no idea why it was my dad's favorite. "Oh, yes, very nice." He took it from me and handed it to Damian. Damian looked like he didn't know what to do with it and held the edges as if it would break. I smiled. His eyes followed the individual brush strokes and he smiled. I bit my lip. He cleared his throat and handed it back to my dad. "It's very beautiful," he said. My dad said nothing, but handed me the painting and asked for the next one. I handed him my most recent one. "Ooh, a new one?" he said. I nodded. "Day before yesterday," I said. He took a moment to look at it before handing it over to Damian. He looked at this one more fondly, and let it rest on his lap. This one was almost like a snapshot of a sunrise coming through the trees. The foreground was black silhouettes of the trees, and the light shone through, fading from white to yellow to pink around the edges of the canvas. I had signed it in the bottom right corner in pinkish-orange. He traced his finger over one of the sun's rays with a smile before returning it to my father. "You really are very good," he said to me. I blushed and took the painting back from my dad, handing him the painting that had been my favorite ever since I'd finished it two years ago. It had never won any of the competitions I'd entered it for, but I still loved it. My dad barely looked at it as he handed it to Damian. "Personally, I don't know why you like this one so much, Lila," he said. I stared at Damian, not wanting to get into an argument in front of him. Why did my dad have to push these buttons tonight? Even though I couldn't see what he was saying I knew he was telling Damian the story about how I never let anyone touch the painting for a year, and it caused problems at the art shows. Damian was staring at the painting like it was telling him the most riveting story. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I couldn't read the emotions in his eyes. I had painted the background of the painting to look like aged wood with grays and blues. On that, I'd used black and red paint and painted what looked like a landscape towards the bottom and a bird in flight above it. There were trees on the sides whose branches drooped low, and clouds above the bird. Everything looked like it was dripping blood and ink. I liked it because it portrayed a feeling I couldn't explain. It wasn't sad exactly, though that's what my dad said. Damian handed this one back to me directly. Our fingers brushed lightly. "Thank you," he said. "Those are all very beautiful." "Thanks," I said and propped the paintings against the table. I moved to sit down next to Damian again. "Are you done interrogating, Dad?" My father laughed. "Just one more question," he said. I sighed. "Damian, you're in the middle of a tour, correct?" "That's correct, sir," Damian said. "And you live in Ireland?" "Aye." "That was more than one question," I mumbled. My dad glanced at me as if to say "Don't push it." I slumped over, resting my chin on my hand. "Well it was." He continued. "I don't know if you realize how difficult long distance relationships are," he said to Damian. "Overseas relationships are even harder. What plans do you have to keep in contact and will they be enough?" I looked at Damian. We hadn't exactly figured all that out yet. But Damian looked relatively calm. "Well," he said. "I was thinking letters at least weekly, emails daily, and texting however often throughout the day. And I can fly in and visit on occasion. Or, if you're willing and Lila has a break, I could pay for her plane ticket and she could come visit Ireland, but I understand if you're not comfortable with that." Wow. He'd put more thought into it than I had. I rather liked the idea of going to Ireland. My father stroked his chin in thought for a moment. He was just trying to find something wrong with Damian, and nothing was presenting itself. A small smile found its way onto my lips. My dad reached a decision. "You're paying for the postage on her letters, right?" he joked. Damian chuckled. "Absolutely, sir," he said with a smile. We all stood. My dad shook Damian's hand again. "Just don't hurt her, okay?" he said. "Or I'll be forced to shoot you." Damian's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that, sir," Damian said. "I don't think I could hurt her even if I wanted to. She'd beat you to me with the shotgun." I smiled sweetly up at Damian. "You know it," I said. They laughed. My dad shook Damian's hand one more time. "I should be getting to bed," he said. "Early start in the morning. Don't stay up too late, okay?" he mumbled the last part to Damian. Damian smiled. "I actually have to be back at the hotel soon anyway," he said. "I'll be long gone before it's late." My dad headed for the stairs. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Damian," he said. "I've never had to interrogate boyfriends before." He laughed and went upstairs. Damian chuckled once and led me outside the door again. "That wasn't too bad," he said. "There was a moment where the air was thick, but it was barely noticeable." "Yeah," I said. "He took it a lot better than I thought he would. I'm the most surprised that Nick didn't crash the pa-" My gaze moved inside the house. "I spoke too soon." Damian followed my gaze as Nick pulled open the door. I sighed. "What's this about some Irishman dating my baby sister?" he said. He'd talked to Dad. "I'm Nick." He offered his hand. Damian shook it. "Damian," he said. "Pleasure to meet you." Nick started laughing and turned to me. "His accent is so cool!" he said. Damian chuckled. I rolled my eyes. "Nick, please," I said. He raised an eyebrow. I raise both of mine and gave a look that clearly said "LEAVE NOW". "Ah, right," he said and backed into the house. "I have cramming-I mean-studying to do." He winked and closed the door. We laughed at him. "Well, that's Nick for you," I said. "Gosh." "He's nice," Damian said. "I bet he'd be great craic." "Huh? Oh. Yeah," I said. "He's probably trying to listen to us through a window somewhere." He laughed. "I hope you don't feel overwhelmed. My family can be a bit… obnoxious." "Not at all," he said. "I just wasn't really expecting to be interrogated. I think I passed the test." I straightened his collar, which had flipped up in the wind. "With flying colors," I said. I yanked his collar quickly and took him by surprise. He laughed into the kiss. We parted when we felt water fall on our faces. We looked up at the sky. It was starting to rain. "I better go," he said when I'd looked back at him. I nodded. He kissed me again, and it was much gentler than the others. Sweeter. I was smiling when he pulled away. "I'll see you at nine." "See you at nine," I said. "Good night," he said. "Good night," I replied with a chuckle. "Okay, I'm really leaving this time," he said smiling. I laughed. "Good bye, Damian," I said, backing into the doorway. He backed toward the street. "'S mise le meas," he said. He was hailing a cab. "What?!" I shouted. He opened the cab door and flashed me a smile. "Yours faithfully," he said and slipped into the cab. I watched the cab as it drove down the street. It stopped at the corner and Damian got out again. What was he doing? I was laughing when he came up to the door, panting. He smiled at me and picked up the pizza box from the table. I laughed harder. "Forgot something," he said. "Bye." He gave me a quick peck on the lips before running back to the cab before it drove off without him. --the only reason he forgot the pizza... is because I forgot the pizza lol! i had to add the ending afterwards--
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Post by damianrocks on Jan 7, 2010 14:59:16 GMT -5
Ohhh thanks guys. Here's the next one. --Chapter 7: Broken Ice-- As I closed the front door, I saw my father's reflection in the glass. I turned to face him, staying by the door. I couldn't read his expression. "I don't like it," he said. I frowned. "This can only end badly for you, Lila." "Don't pretend like you know everything, Dad," I said. "Because you don't. For all you know, I'll wind up marring him and living happily ever after! I just-" I shoved my hands into my hair and pulled. The pain helped calm my anger a little bit. "I hate it when you claim all authority-all control-over my life, and yet you despise my very existence! Why not just let me run wild and do whatever the heck I want? Let the world decide my fate so that you don't have to!" My breaths were coming quick and uneven. I couldn't believe I had just shouted at my father. I think he had a hard time coming to grips with it, too. I had never yelled at him before. I had never yelled at all. He just stood there staring at me like he'd never seen me before. I leaned back against the door, all energy suddenly leaving my body. I was exhausted. I just wanted to sleep. I walked into the living room, grabbed my paintings, and headed to the stairs. "I don't," he said when I reached the foot of the stairs. I stopped. He looked down at me. "I don't despise you." He rubbed his face in his hands. He looked as tired as I felt. "I just-" He stopped himself from explaining. I could see there was something he wanted to tell me… but he couldn't. "Good night." He went up to his room, leaving me standing at the foot of the stairs, wondering what had caused his resolve to crack that tiny bit. He'd wanted to open up. I could see it. Well… it was a start. I returned to the art studio and locked the door. I took a moment and just stared at the beginnings of my painting of Damian. In a split-second decision, I grabbed the biggest brush I had and plunged it into the can of white paint, running it over today's work, erasing all trace of what I had started. I set that canvas aside and grabbed a dry one. I quickly threw my hair into a bun with a long paintbrush to get it out of my face, and tied an apron around my waist. The whole time I painted, I had words running through my head. Words I'd only seen spoken (or sung, rather) once in my life. Without realizing it, I was reciting the lines aloud. "Come by the hills to the land where fancy is free and stand where the peaks meet the sky and the lochs meet the sea." I worked for hours, reciting through nearly every song I'd seen that night multiple times. I probably made the biggest mess, throwing brushes down, not patient enough to clean them between colors. I was hardly thinking about what I was doing, relying solely on memory and emotion. Three hours after I started working (2:30 in the morning) I slowed down a bit. I was now sitting on a stool rather than standing, and absentmindedly reinforcing colors already there. The painting was done… but I wasn't. I kept going over his eyes, making them bluer and bluer. "'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow… Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy… I love you so…" I was only mouthing the words now. I sighed and dropped the brush to the floor. It made a blue spot on the concrete. We'd had the carpet taken out for the studio. There were lots of stains on the floor. But somehow, this blue spot stuck out like a sore thumb. I wouldn't even try to clean it up. I grabbed the brush to use for signing, dipped it in black, and initialed the bottom right-hand corner. I picked up all the brushes I'd used and took them over to the sink to wash them out. When I came back to the stool, I just sat and looked at it for about twenty minutes. I only left when I started to fall asleep. I needed to set an alarm. Damian was coming at nine. I should get up at eight. My phone vibrated as a sign that the alarm was set. I didn't even change out of my apron, falling on my bed and sleeping instantly. When I woke up, it wasn't to my alarm. I hadn't closed my curtains last night and the sunrise shone right onto my face. It was almost seven. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I went to take a shower. I dropped everything at least once, my razor twice, cutting my foot and my knee in the process. I got shampoo in my eyes and hit my head on the water knob when picking up my razor, turning the cold water up all the way and gaining a throb above my right temple. All in all, not a very relaxing shower. But I was awake. I crossed from the bathroom to my room wrapped in a towel, my hair still dripping across my shoulders. I liked to get ready in my room, so I was out of the way of anyone else who needed to use the bathroom. Even though Dad was already gone and Nick was sleeping until ten today, I did it more out of habit than anything else. I sort of got half-dressed, then did things like dry my hair and brush my teeth. I used the sink in the art studio. My dad had knocked down the wall in the closet to connect the two rooms. My gaze kept drifting to the painting I'd done. It was scarily accurate. I didn't even remember doing half of it. I was more venting pent up frustration, than being artistic, but it came out amazing. I wondered if I should let Damian see it…. I did my hair and makeup before picking out an outfit. My red frizz went up in a messy bun, my bangs hanging around my face like they always did. Just foundation, Chap Stick, a little bit of green eye shadow, and mascara for the makeup. I decided to wear black tights under a pair of jean shorts. It was too cold to go without the tights. I slipped on a striped sweater. I liked it a lot. I was a little snug, but not tight. It had black, gray, and white horizontal stripes, which made me look thinner. One of the good things about being an artist is you know how to manipulate the eye using illusions. My look was completed with my beat up Converse and diamond stud earrings. I looked at my watch. Damian should be here in forty-five minutes. I went downstairs and made scrambled eggs. I put half in a bowl with a lid and stuck it in the fridge. I put a Post-It on Nick's door that read, "There's eggs in the fridge. Try to have some breakfast. And Damian might be here when you get up. Heads up. Lila." I put a couple pieces of bread in the toaster and leaned against the kitchen sink to start on my eggs. My foot tapped impatiently on the linoleum floor. When the toast popped out of the toaster, I put way too much butter on them and made an egg sandwich. Leaning against the sink again, I twisted my ankle then straightened it multiple times, repeatedly cracking the joint. I stared at the clock on the stovetop, willing nine o'clock to come faster. At a quarter to nine, I saw movement outside the front door. I dropped my plate in the sink and wrenched the door open before Damian had even stepped onto the platform. I hugged him before he was even in the house. I could feel him laughing. He put his arms around me and I inhaled the scent that was uniquely him. I stepped back and let him in. "Hi," he said laughing. I blushed a little. "Hi," I said. "Sorry. I-" "No, don't apologize," he said. "It's all right." I noticed he had a bag over his shoulder. It looked full. "What's that?" I asked. He smiled. "You'll see," he said. "First I want to get the business-type stuff out of the way." I led him up to my room, leaving the door propped open with a dictionary. It was the biggest book I had and worked extremely well as a doorstop. While he glanced around the room, I quickly shut the door to the art studio. I still wasn't sure if I wanted him to see my painting. I mean, it kind of creeped even me out. I didn't know how he would take it. "Oh, let me log on to my laptop," I said and typed in my password quickly. My wallpaper was a picture of Butterfinger sleeping under the Christmas tree last year. She was just too adorable to not take a photo of. I brought up a Word document. I noticed he was still standing in the middle of my room. "Oh! Here, hold on." I slipped into the art studio and grabbed the stool, bringing it into my room next to my desk. "You don't have to stand there. Have a seat." He scooted the stool closer to my chair and dropped his bag on the floor. "All right," he said. "So, I mentioned texting, emails, and letters. We both have each other's phone numbers already. I'd also like to give you my home phone number just in case I forget, and call from home, you know who it is." I giggled. "Okay." He told me his home phone number and I typed it in the document. Then he told me his email address and I typed it in as well. Finally, he told me his home address for letters. I clicked "save" and opened up a new document. I typed out all of my information to print out and give to him. "Anything else before I print?" "Yeah," he said. "Do you have a MySpace or anything?" "I have a Facebook and a LiveJournal account," I said. "And I have a DeviantArt account for my artwork and stories. That's it." "Okay, you can put those on there too, if you want," he said. I did. "All right, that's all I need. And if I do think of something later, I can email you or call. I have a Twitter account, if you ever wanted to get one, I'll tell you what it is." I laughed. "All right," I said. I added that to the other document and saved. "So I can print now?" "Yes, you can print now," he said with a chuckle. I handed the paper to him. He folded it and put it in his wallet. "You like to wear plaid," I observed. He laughed. "Yes, I like to wear plaid," he said, shaking his head. "And you like to wear Converse." "Touché," I said. "So, what's in the bag?" "Ah," he said and quickly grabbed it. "I bought you something." "Oh, my," I teased. "Presents already. I think we're taking this relationship a little too fast." He just smiled at me, setting the bag on my bed to open it. First, he pulled out a T-shirt. I laughed when I saw that it had a picture of him on it. "Wow, you're not narcissistic at all." He smirked. "I wanted your opinion on the new design," he said. "This is a prototype, so to speak. I look a lot different than I did three years ago, eh?" "Yeah," I said. "I'd be kind of worried if you didn't." I took the shirt from him and looked at the back. "Oh, how sweet. You included the rest of the guys." He laughed. "Well, I'm not quite a solo artist yet," he said. "I figured I'd keep it within the Celtic Thunder group. It's bound to help me get it approved." "So, why are you the one designing your own shirts?" I asked, folding it back up and laying it beside his bag. "Well, no one's making new ones," he said. "I don't know why." "Well, this is a very nice design," I said. "I like the font on your name and you can see the blue in your eyes really well." He smiled and reached back into the bag. "You can keep that one," he said. "I have a few of them." I smiled when he pulled a notebook out of his bag. "It's a bunch of songs Keith and I have been working on. I made copies and cleaned them up a little bit. I thought you might like them. Maybe even give a few pointers." He nudged my side. I laughed and took the notebook from him. I peeked at the first one. It was called "Faith". I set it on top of the shirt. "I like your handwriting," I said. "A lot of guys have sloppy writing. Yours is pretty." He laughed. "Uhm, thank you?" he said. He reached back in the bag for more. "Here's what I actually bought for you." He pulled out a book and a box. He opened the book first. "I found this last night on the internet and was lucky enough to find it in a store in town." He turned to a page about a third of the way into the book. I gasped when I saw my photo next to a small paragraph. I grabbed the book. It was a feature on my bird painting. My jaw dropped as I read a short biography about myself. On the next page, the entire page was taken up by a photo of my painting, and the feature continued. I looked at the title of the book: Art Prodigies of the Future. "Oh, my God," I said. "I'm in a published book." I put my hand over my mouth and sniffed. My throat got tight. "Oh, my God. You actually went and found this? For me?" "I couldn't sleep for a long time last night," he said. "I went browsing for anything about you. I saw this feature online and it said it was an excerpt from a book. I looked up the book and there were actually a few copies in the bookstore a few blocks away. They've had them in stock for about a year." "I never knew," I said trailing off. Tears started to run down my cheeks and I wiped them away. "Thank you so much." He pulled me into his arms and let me cry into his chest. I was too short to reach his shoulder. I felt him kiss the top of my head and he rubbed circles on my back. I clutched the book tightly to my chest. A few minutes later, I leaned back and wiped my face dry. I looked at the back of the book for a price tag. He'd scraped it off. I chuckled. "What?" he said. "You took off the price tag," I said. "My mom used to do that." I set the book on top of the notebook on top of the shirt. He was still rubbing my back. It felt nice. "What's in the box?" "Ooh," he said, suddenly excited. "I saw this and I couldn't help but buy it. I really hope you like it." He handed it to me and seemed almost nervous. I smiled and slipped open the lid.
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Post by damianrocks on Jan 13, 2010 18:56:37 GMT -5
Haha oopsie I forgot. ^^' heh heh... ok fyi, this is all I have finished so far. so updates will be slower now. Here is.... --Chapter Eight: Lord Willing-- I froze when I saw the glimmering necklace inside. I literally could not move. It was stunning. The overall shape of the charm was a heart. A rose in the middle of it blended into the left side of the heart and there were tiny diamonds along the right side. It was made of sterling silver or I would venture so far as to suggest white gold, it sparkled so brilliantly. The petals of the rose were made of some kind of red material. It looked like it was hard as marble, yet glossy and almost velvety like a real rose. The chain itself wound in and out of the various loops and held the illusion that it was knotted in place. It was perfect. . . . Except that it probably cost way too much than I would like for him to spend on me. He’d already bought a book for me. I turned the box over to see if he was consistent with the price tag thing. It didn’t even look like it had ever had a price tag. And then I thought about how much more it would have cost if it really was white gold and real diamonds. I must have stopped breathing because I tilted forward and Damian had to set me back upright. I gasped and looked at his worried, blue eyes. “Lila?” He rubbed my arm. “Please say something. . . .” “How much was it?” I asked. That was my main concern. If it wasn’t too expensive, I’d be thrilled. I did not want him spending a bunch of cash on me when we’d only known each other one day. He sighed and sat on my bed. I held the box out to him. “How much did you spend on it?” “About the equivalent of seventy Euros,” he said. He was trying to trick me. He thought I didn’t know how much that was. That was a hundred dollars! (And five cents, to be exact.) I dropped the box. “I CAN CONVERT EUROS TO DOLLARS, DAMIAN!!!” I yelled. He flinched. “I got it on sale!” he said, defending himself. He stood. “Originally, it was a hundred and thirty!” “Oh, so what? You save thirty bucks?” I sat back on the stool and rubbed my forehead. “Why does it matter what I paid for it?” he asked, sitting back on the bed across from me. “I have the money to spend. I probably would have spent it on a video game that I don’t need, anyway.” He fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt. “I thought you’d like it.” He seemed really upset with himself. “Oh, I love it. It’s gorgeous,” I said. “I just don’t want you to spend so much money on me.” I picked up the box and pulled the necklace out, holding it delicately in my fingers. I let a shaky breath through my lips. “White gold?” He nodded. “Are the diamonds real?” He looked up, thinking. “Um… I don’t know.” He pulled out his wallet and fished out a receipt and a few papers. “You have internet?” I pulled up a new browser and he typed in a URL from a piece of paper. A moment later he said “no, they’re artificial.” He closed the window and returned to sit in front of me. “Probably would have wound up paying a hundred and thirty if they were. Maybe more.” He watched me as I sat rubbing the chain and debating inside on how to feel. I really didn’t want him to spend so much on me. But it was beautiful, and absolutely perfect. And it was a reminder of him. I greedily sought those in my heart. He might have been able to tell what I was thinking. “You might as well just take it,” he said. “I can’t return it and I certainly won’t wear it.” I smiled at that. I decided to let my selfish side win. I smiled wider and grabbed his hand. I brought it to my cheek and he rubbed under my eye. I probably had smeared mascara from my crying earlier. “It’s perfect,” I said. “Help me put it on?” He nodded and we both stood. I handed him the necklace and turned around, lifting my hair out of the way. (Even in a messy bun, it hung down past my shoulders.) --Damian’s POV— I unlatched the necklace and looked up. She’d lifted her hair and her neck stood exposed. I never knew a neck could be beautiful, but there you go. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. She couldn’t hear me. I slipped my left hand under her left arm (the one holding her hair) and brought the chain around the right, handing one end of the latch over. I had to pull it back once to see if I had it backwards. I did. Figures. I let my fingers touch her neck several times as I worked the latch. I could see the goose bumps on her skin and she gasped quietly. I smirked, letting the chain go. I leaned forward and planted a kiss on the right side of her neck. --Lila’s POV— I jumped a little when I felt his lips on my neck and let go of my hair. I shivered. He ran his hands down my arms, calming me. He leaned his head against mine and laced his fingers together, letting them come to rest over my stomach. I put my hands on his and turned to look at him. “Damian…” I felt him make some kind of vocal noise. Probably just a grunt. “I want to show you something.” I pulled his hands away from my body as I walked toward the art studio. He followed much more slowly. “I felt like I had nothing to give you in return. I want,” I stopped him from interrupting, which he totally looked like he was ready to do. “I want to give you something that took as much thought as this necklace and that book. It’s still not enough, since it didn’t cost me anything but a few hours of time, and I don’t remember doing half of it… but it’s all I can think of.” I led him around the easel to the finished side. As he studied it, I explained. “My dad and I had an argument after you left.” He looked at me. I guess my expression told him everything was OK—it was—because his gaze returned to the painting. “He doesn’t want me to date you.” He looked at me again, frowning. “He thinks a long distance relationship will break my heart.” He nodded in understanding. “But I’m going to make it work, and with your help, distance won’t be a problem. My dad just doesn’t understand relationships very well. He and my mom grew up best friends, and I think he believes it should be like that for any relationship to work.” I leaned against the wall, smiling. “Their story is a pretty good one though.” “You’ll have to tell me sometime,” he said and took a step back from the painting. He blew a breath between his lips. “Wow.” He laughed. “It’s—“ He made a hand gesture and then ran his fingers through his hair. “Wow.” I laughed. “I didn’t use a reference either,” I said. “Only my memory.” He looked at me with raised eyebrows. “I thought it didn’t look like any pictures I’d seen online,” he said. “It’s excellent. Kind of freaky--” I laughed “--but excellent.” He thought a moment. “You should post it with all your other stuff online, but make people guess who it is. We’ll see who gets it right first.” I chuckled. “Good idea,” I said. “Basically, see how many of my watchers are Celtic Thunder fans.” “Pretty much,” he said. I looked at my watch. It was a little after ten. “We can do it now,” I said. “This is the time of day people usually comment on my stuff anyway, because they’re online.” I grabbed my digital camera from my dresser and tried to get a perfect shot. It just didn’t look the same on the camera. I frowned and tried moving it closer to the window. It didn’t work until I had Damian tilt it up at a different incline, and I backed away. Well, the people will be seeing double Damian. I didn’t want to crop him out of the picture. Plus, he looked so cute, standing next to a portrait of himself. I was about to stick the memory chip into my laptop when Nick came in the room. “Oh, hello,” he said to Damian, who was looking at him amusedly. Then I realized why. Nick was in his boxers. And they had Care Bears on them. I giggled. “What do you need, Nick?” I asked. He lifted a finger. My sticky note was stuck to it. “Did you leave this on my door?” I rolled my eyes. “No, the other Lila who lives in this house did.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said while leaving the room. “I’m serious about you eating those eggs!” I called after him. I looked at Damian. He was trying not to laugh. “Care Bears,” was all he said. I smiled. “It’s almost like I’m the older child,” I said, returning to the pictures. I deleted all the misses, but kept one I accidentally got of Damian blinking with a silly face. I snickered as I saved it with the final one. “Don’t worry, I won’t post it…” I looked at him. “Unless you don’t mind.” “I mind,” he said. “If I can help goofy pictures of me from getting on the Web, I’m doing it.” I laughed. “Fine,” I said. I pulled up deviantArt and quickly went through my new messages before uploading the portrait. I talked to myself as I submitted it. “What should I call it?...” I tapped my fingers against the desk, then typed in, “Double Vision.” I saw Damian laugh out of the corner of my eye. Deviation type: painting, traditional work. Select file, yada yada yada. Description. Oh boy. I snickered again and began typing quickly. “This is an acrylic I did last night of my boyfriend. That’s him standing next to it, if you couldn’t tell. You get a look at my art studio as well. Now, I’m going to have a little competition. If you can tell me my boyfriend’s name or his occupation, I’ll… I’ll give him a message directly and tell you what he says. Haha and some of you might find it worthwhile to do so. I’ll tell you right now, he’s not American. Good luck guessing. I’ll probably rename the deviation later to his name. But I want you to guess first.” I put in a smiley face and sat back waiting for him to finish reading. He chuckled. I typed my usual in the keywords space: paint acrylic portrait. I checked “no” under mature content, and hit “submit”. It was done. I went to the page to see if you could tell what everything was and if full screen was better than minimized or not. I explained my routine to Damian as I did it. He had pulled the stool closer and sat on it. I went back to my profile, and saw five messages at the top. “Already!” I said, and clicked the messages tab. The first person just commented on how good it was and how cute Damian was. I replied with a sarcastic comment about how he’s standing right here watching, and thanked them. The next person just put a fainting emoticon. I laughed. “I think she knew.” Sure enough the next comment was the same person. “Damian McGinty! Oh my gosh I love him! And Celtic Thunder! You’re dating him?! Lucky duck. This is news for the ThunderPub!!! Lis4love is going to be so sad that he’s taken now though lol,” it read. “Yay! What do you want to say to him? He’s sitting right here. And tell Lis4love that she can just deal with it. He’s mine for now .” I replied. The next comment was along the same lines as the first one. It inquired about the comment on Celtic Thunder and Damian McGinty, then said that the painting was good and that Damian looked like a keeper. I said my thanks, but didn’t specify the Celtic Thunder thing. The next comment had already done that for me. It was a new person. I’d never seen their screen name before. They explained that Celtic Thunder was an “amazing singing group from Ireland and Scotland” and that Damian was the youngest, and went to describe his voice in detail. She then said that she only saw this because it was on the “newest deviations” on the homepage when she logged in, and she recognized him. She said she liked the painting and that she added it to her favorites and me to her deviantWatch. I replied, thanking her for the compliments and for explaining the group, because she could do it much better than I could. No one online knew I was deaf, so I didn’t elaborate as to why I wouldn’t be good at it. By the time I finished replying, there were 3 more messages. Two were notices about the favorite and the deviantWatch. The third was the question for Damian. “ooooh goody goody! Damian, what is your favorite candy bar, beverage, food, color, book, movie, video game (I’m guessing FIFA lol), artist, song, number, word, your favorite everything!! Haha just kidding. I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!” it read. We both laughed. I scooted over and let him type the reply. “This is Damian. Em… I like Snickers, lattes, pizza, red, Lord of the Rings, Twelve Angry Men, Fifa, Michael Buble, Haven’t Met You Yet (by said favorite artist), 8, …my favorite word might be “craic” haha or “footy” as far as how often I use it goes. I hope that answers all your requests. Thanks for supporting the group. Man, we have great fans.” I giggled and added my own section beneath his. “Lila-Haha thanks for supporting both of us. I recognize you commenting on lots of my stuff. It doesn’t go unnoticed.” I sent it, then exited the browser. “I can continue that conversation later,” I said, swiveling the chair to face Damian fully. “So it only took like… ten seconds.” We laughed. I looked at the clock on my laptop screen. Ten thirty-five. “How long does it take you to get back to the hotel?” “Uh, actually,” he said. “Paul convinced Sharon to let the bus come and get me here on their way out. So I have until about ten after eleven until they get here.” “Okay, so we have abut twenty-five minutes until you have to go,” I said. I was sad. I didn’t want him to go. I looked down at the necklace and fiddled with it. He put a finger under my chin and brought my eyes to his. I sniffed. “Why do you have to leave?” He sighed and leaned his forehead against mine. I had to go cross-eyed to see his mouth. “I don’t want to leave either,” he said and pulled back a little. “But I have a tour to finish and then college when I get back home. I might get to come out a little after Christmas, though. Maybe spend the New Year over here.” My first thought was I might get my first New Year’s Eve midnight kiss. It was practically torture watching all the couples on the TV or if I was out, around town. I’d wanted that. There I go being selfish again. “That sounds great,” I said. “So, how should we spend our last…” I consulted my watch. “Twenty minutes?” --Damian’s POV— Ohhhh how I wanted to just make out for those twenty minutes. Was it even possible to make out for twenty minutes without going too far? Gah! Why did I have no experience or know-how at all? I’ll have to talk to Paul about some of these things. Oh, shoot. What do I say? --Lila’s POV— He took a while to respond. He was seriously thinking about it. I was hoping for "make out the whole time", but I’m easy to work with. Or maybe not. He took way too long. I leaned forward and kissed him impatiently. Once he responded and took some sort of control of the kiss, I backed down and just enjoyed it. I think kisses can cure anything. They must have magic powers. That’s why mothers kiss scrapes and things of their kids when they fall and it’s instantly better, even though it still hurts. It heals the soul, not the body. The only bad thing was, I was taller than him, because he was sitting on the stool. I didn’t know how to convey this message to him without breaking the kiss and I did not want that. I grunted and pulled him up as I leaned back. He stood. Good boy. He seemed to get the drift now. He kicked the stool out of the way and we both sat on the edge of the bed. Much better. His fingers started playing with my hair and holding my face. I wound my fingers around his shirt and just clung to it. Oh how I loved the feel of his lips moving over mine. I was in heaven, to say the least. It hadn’t lasted nearly as long as I would have liked. But Damian jerked back and looked towards the door. I did as well, slowly. Nick was there with an amused look. He’d gotten dressed. “Uhh, there’s a bus sitting in the road outside our house,” he said, motioning behind him towards the stairs. “I assume it’s yours,” he said to Damian. “I’m heading out to work,” he told me before turning and leaving. I followed Damian to the window. Sure enough a big bus was parked right outside my window. I could see Paul and Keith leaning out of the windows looking for us. They smiled and waved. Paul shouted something. I read his lips. “Damian, time to stop the lovin’ and get a-movin’!” he said. I giggled and blushed. Apparently Damian heard him because he stuck out his tongue and we turned away from the window. He made sure he gathered all his stuff and didn’t forget anything. We went down to the door. The main door was open, but the screen door wasn’t. We stood right by the entrance/exit and he pulled me into a hug. “I miss you already,” I said. He pulled away and looked me in the eye. “We’ll keep in touch,” he said. “I promise. Slán a fhágáil ag duine.” I smiled. “What does that mean?” “’I wish you farewell’.” He paused. “For now. We’ll meet again soon.” “Lord willing,” I said. “’Ag Dia féin atá a fhios’.” I giggled. “I really need to learn Gaelic,” I said. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. He reached for the doorknob. --------------- translations Slán a fhágáil ag duine=wishing someone farewell Ag Dia féin atá a fhios=only God knows. It was the closest translation to "Lord willing" i could find without butchuring the language and sending the Irish hunting me down. lol visit here for a sketch of Lila's necklace mrsmcginty.deviantart.com/art/S-mise-le-meas-008-149258559I'll try to update soon!!!
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Post by damianrocks on Feb 12, 2010 20:42:35 GMT -5
FINALLY!!! seemed to take me forever to write this. --CHAPTER NINE: Romeo--
--Damian’s POV—
In the two seconds that it took my hand to reach the door handle, I had come to a startling conclusion that made me pause for a moment. I looked back at Lila, and opened the door.
“Tá mé chomh mór sin i ngrá leat,” I confessed, gave her another swift kiss, then left her standing there. It was childish, leaving her with an Irish phrase that, had she known what it meant, would probably scare her away. I watched her over my shoulder on my way to the bus. She was slightly confused, but had a small smile on her face. I couldn’t help but smile too. I waved one last time before boarding the bus and feeling it drive away.
I was immediately surrounded by Paul and Keith. I kept my eyes on the floor and tried to squeeze past them to my bunk, where my laptop waited. But the guys would have none of it without a little slagging first.
“Did you give her that book I saw you buy?” Paul inquired, nudging my side with his elbow.
“Yeah,” I said, keeping my answers short and sweet so they would have less to tease me about. One of the bad things about being a teenager with a bunch of adults is I get slagged. Especially since I act more mature than some of those adults. I immediately changed my mind about talking to Paul, and thought about asking Ryan instead.
“Well that’s nothin’,” Keith said. “I saw him looking at jewelry online.” I glared at him.
“So what if I was?” I said defensively. “For your information, she loved it.” After she chewed my ear off about the price. But they didn’t need to know that.
“And, uh,” Paul started, bringing his voice down. Uh-oh. An innuendo was coming. “Did she, uh, give you anything in return?” He winked. I rolled my eyes.
“Honestly, Paul,” I said. “Are you three years old?” I squeezed past them and sat in my bunk, pulling out the paper Lila had printed out.
“No. Two,” he said. They had followed me over. George was in his bunk across from me, and Ryan was coming out of the restroom in the back.
“What? Your IQ?” Ryan said with a smile. Everyone but Paul laughed. I pulled up Lila’s deviantART page and clicked the link to her painting.
“Back to Paul’s question,” I started.
“You mean you’re actually going to answer it?” he said. I gave him a look.
“Yes, but my answer is in no way perverted, like you would prefer,” I said and turned my laptop around. “She painted that last night.” They all made sounds of approval and commented on her skills.
“Damian, you sure got yerself a fireball of talent,” Paul said. Fireball is right, I thought, remembering that twenty-minute-long kiss. I felt my face flush and pulled my laptop back into the bunk on my lap. The lads apparently didn’t notice and went back to what they were doing. George joined Keith and Paul at the front of the bus, leaving Ryan alone with me.
“Ryan…” I began, not knowing how to start. “Can—mmm…” I didn’t know what to do. “Remember how I sang Puppy Love?” He looked at me curiously.
“Of course I do,” he said and came over to sit on the edge of my bunk. “Is there something troubling you, Damian?” I was glad he wasn’t talking loudly. I didn’t want many people to know about my inner struggles.
“Yeah,” I said. “Don’t tell the lads, all right? I don’t want them to know.”
“Damian, I’m an accountant,” he said. “Secrecy is my specialty.” I smiled slightly at that.
“Well, the thing is…” I took a deep breath and decided to just say it. “How can you be sure it’s not a puppy love?” Ryan chuckled.
“Is that what this is about?” he said. I looked at my lap. I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“I told her I love her,” I said, looking up at him. “But I said it in Gaelic, so she doesn’t know what I said.” I thumped my head against the wall behind me. “The thing is, I really do love her. I just—“
“Don’t know if it will stay that way?” he suggested.
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I know she means the world to me right now, but… I’m only seventeen.”
“Exactly,” he said. “You have time to sort it all out. Don’t worry about it. It’s natural to worry about the future. Think of it this way. I’m almost twice your age, and I haven’t found the right girl yet. You have time.”
Thing is, I knew who Ryan’s right girl was. We’d spent every day for the past month with her and he had no clue that Zara was perfect for him. I had talked with the other guys about it and they’re all convinced that Zara’s clueless as well. I think otherwise. Sometimes I see her staring at him, lost in thought. I hadn’t realized what she was doing until I found myself doing the same thing with Lila. I focused on Ryan.
“I’m going to be putting so much commitment into this relationship and I want it to work out,” I said. “What if it all goes downhill and we break each other’s hearts?”
“What if it all goes perfect and you wind up marryin’ the lass?” he countered. “My da once told me that if you can picture yourself growing old with a woman and taking care of each other in your old age, then you’re meant to be. I’ve kept that piece of advice close to my heart my whole life. That’s the reason I’m not married. I came close once. Almost proposed. Got to imaginin’ our life in the future, and I just couldn’t see her there. We split up the next day. She’s married now, with a kid.” He stared off into space. I wanted to test something.
“Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you work it backwards?” I asked. “Picture the woman first, and then find a girl from that?” He chuckled.
“I don’t know, boyo,” he said. “I’ve never tried. I’m waiting for someone who strikes a chord you know? A woman who really steals my heart.”
“Huh,” I said. “Do you think it has to be love at first sight?”
“Oh no chance in heck,” he said. “I’m sure I already know her. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole romance part of anything yet. It will develop. It’s a process.”
“Mine’s not,” I mumbled, remembering how it only took a few hours for me to be completely intrigued by Lila.
“Oh, I know yours isn’t,” he said. “Just me. Fits my personality. Now you, Damian.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “You were born to be Romeo Montague.” I smirked.
“That’s actually kinda fitting,” I said. “Her da doesn’t want us to date. He’s not quite to the point of bloodshed, though.” We both chuckled at that. “Do you think I’ve found Juliet?”
“I think it’s highly possible,” he said. “But I’m no Dumbledore.” I smiled.
“I should hope not,” I said. “He was gay, you know.”
“Oooh, forgot about that,” he said. I laughed. “I can assure you, I do not like men in that way.” He shivered. I was cracking up.
“Heya, boyos, what’s the craic?” Keith asked on his way to the toilet.
“Just talking,” Ryan said. “You know we’re not supposed to use that unless it’s an emergency. We don’t want you stinkin’ up the bus.” Keith glared at him.
“This coming from the man who just left there ten minutes ago,” he said. “I can’t hold it, if you must know. I’m going to explode! Now that would be a mess that would really stink up the bus.” We both made faces of disgust as Keith went to the loo.
“Anyways,” Ryan said. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Damo. I also think that if you want it hard enough and you fight for it, then it will happen. And you’re probably one of the strongest fighters I know.”
I sat thinking as Ryan walked up to the front of the bus to chat with Paul and George.
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Post by damianrocks on Feb 13, 2010 2:32:12 GMT -5
yeah i view him as a sort of unle-type figure. george is the father-type lol i figure, i never talk to my mom about these things, i talk to my sister and my aunt. therefore, damian doesn't go to george for this.
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Post by damianrocks on Feb 20, 2010 1:24:33 GMT -5
Okie dokie here's an update. lol --CHAPTER TEN: Christmas Eve-- It was Christmas Eve. I was missing Damian terribly. I wouldn’t talk to people. If I knew someone was talking to me, I wouldn’t look at them. I sat in the chair by the fireplace next to the Christmas tree with my laptop in my lap and my phone in my pocket. Butterfinger curled up under my arm and got cozy. I was chatting with Damian on deviantART. He’d gotten an account just so we could chat in real time. I think he enjoyed the emoticons a little too much. He could tell I wasn’t in a good mood. I told him it was nothing and I was fine. He was having none of it. I explained that I missed him and wanted to see him. He understood, and said he felt the same. But then he told me he was going to come and visit me sometime soon. I was immediately excited. He didn’t specify when, saying it was a surprise. I should probably explain the little routine we’d gotten into. Every day, he texted me good morning. He’s so sweet. He figured out my schedule and the time difference (he was home now, after the tour) just so he could be the first thing I think about in the morning. I certainly wasn’t complaining. I’d text him between classes and during lunch. Practically whenever I wasn’t in class, I was texting Damian. I loved the terminology he used. I found it cute. Now, over emails, we basically just give an update of the day and any important goings-on. But our letters… oh our letters… He wrote the first one, because there’s not a way for me to get him a letter while he’s touring. And he signed it in Irish. ‘S mise le meas. The phrase he said to me the first night I met him. Yours faithfully. I liked this better than “Sincerely,” or even “Love,” that’s for sure. We never discussed our letters in text or email, or even chat. They were a separate, private part of us. Words of longing and heartfelt pain and passion. I looked forward to every letter. It usually took about a week and a half for me to get a response by letter. And every time, he sent a dollar and fifty cents with it. That was slightly more than the price to send a letter to Ireland. Every letter had a post script: “Keep the change,” and a little heart. Oh that boy made me smile. I kept all of his letters in a shoebox under my bed. I’d done all my Christmas shopping last month. I got Nick a Celtic Thunder CD and poster for his dorm room as somewhat of an inside joke. I told him he had to be a fan now, since I was dating Damian. I knit Dad a scarf. He liked practical gifts that he could use. I had noticed that he was just zipping his coat up to his nose to keep it warm. I finished it early, so I made a hat as well. He’s not much for wearing hats, but I had extra yarn and loads of free time. I also knitted a sweater for Butterfinger. We’d see how well that went. I also had something for Damian… but he wouldn’t get it until he visited me. I also knit various things for the rest of the Celtic Thunder guys and a scarf and matching gloves for Zara. And that is the extent of my Christmas shopping. I had also decorated the tree by myself and made stockings for the four inhabitants of the house (Butterfinger got a smaller one next to mine). Sometimes I wished my family had a special dinner on Christmas Eve. All we ever did was just have a normal dinner and then open presents on Christmas. It seemed like it was all over in a matter of minutes. Ah well… Pickers can’t be choosers, I suppose. It was time for me to have dinner and time for Damian to go to bed. I shut down my laptop and set it in the chair as Butterfinger leapt to the floor and trotted into the kitchen. I set a pot of water on the stove and opened the ground beef that had been thawing on the counter. As I waited for the water to boil, I put food and water in Butterfinger’s dishes and washed my hands thoroughly. Nick came in from outside. He’d been shoveling the driveway and sidewalk. The snow was still coming down. We already had a foot of it. I told him dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes and to tell Dad. When they leave me to do the cooking, we get spaghetti and meat sauce. Maybe some garlic bread. I’m not a very good cook, but I make a mean spaghetti sauce. My secret: add honey. Perfection as far as spaghetti sauce is concerned. Dinner was uneventful. No conversation that I was aware of. Then again, I kept my eyes on my plate the majority of the time. I didn’t even have any homework over this break because it was between semesters. No syllabus from the first class so I can work ahead. What I had been doing in my free time was research. I was looking at prices for hearing aids. That’s right. They were all several hundred dollars, though. I didn’t have that money to spend with the college I was going to. Insurance doesn’t cover hearing aids. Which sucks. I only want one! I had shoved the idea of buying one aside until I was done with school and had a steady job rather than scrubbing toilets at the movie theater across the street from my school every night of the week. Another thing I’d been working on was for my major. There are certain requirements for each department. The music department majors are required to be part of an ensemble, the art majors are required to attend a certain number of gallery exhibits, etc. The Literature majors are required to send a work in for publishing by the end of their senior year. If there’s anything I know about great works of literature, it is that they take a long time. I’m starting on mine now. And Damian gave me the idea for it, actually. I was going to write my parents’ love story. It wouldn’t be terribly long. I tend to generalize things in my writings. But that’s one of the many things that can develop over time. I wasn’t going to tell Dad about it unless it got published. I had told Nick and Damian, though. Nick was ecstatic. He was the only other person besides Dad who knew their story. He thought it was a great idea. Damian was excited too, but more because he wanted to know their story and read something I wrote. I hadn’t officially started writing anything. I was working on an outline of the key points that were fact, and I would build a fictional story around it. I knew one thing: I was going to keep the names the same. It wouldn’t feel the same to me to change that. This is what my life consisted of at Christmas. A couple weeks later, I would be in January Term, and have only one class, so that wouldn’t be difficult at all. The one thing I was looking forward to was Damian’s visit. I hoped it was while I was at school. There wouldn’t be family to interfere and we could just be alone and talk and walk around the beautiful campus I went to school at. I think he’d love that campus. There is a big lake smack dab in the middle of it with a fountain. The teachers say it freezes in January and February and you can walk across it. There are so many trees around campus too, and a great big sidewalk that runs from one end of campus to the other. The students call the sidewalk the Mall. The RA on my floor said campus looks like Narnia when it snows. I sure hope so. The description of Narnia is my favorite part of the book. I’d like to pretend I live in Narnia for a while. There are even lamp posts at various intervals along the Mall. I wondered if Damian would walk through my Narnia with me when he visited. Christmas Eve night, I dreamed about Narnia and lions in kilts… and Santa hats… sliding down people’s chimneys with big sacks full of balls of yarn and glitter. I don’t know where the glitter came into my subconscious from…. Not the strangest dream I’ve ever had. Certainly the most entertaining to remember, by far. -- I also just wanted to say that i had a MLIA moment today mlia=my life is average. "Leaving my Pre Calc class today, as I was exiting the Science Hall, the first thing I saw was a student--a grown man--in a red power ranger costume leap over the frozen fountain, scurry through a few feet of snow, then hop into a tree, climbing as high as he could without falling, and crouching there watching the students as they walked to their classes. I assume he was on the lookout for any danger. I feel so safe at this campus. MLIA" it's so true. i hope it gets published
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Post by damianrocks on Feb 20, 2010 1:25:46 GMT -5
the MLIA thing is NOT part of the story.... just realized there could be cause for confusion there lol ;P that happened to me today.
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