Book by: Volatile
They say that love is forever.
Your forever is all that I need.
Please stay, forever with me.
It is not life that haunts me, despite what my therapist suggests.
My eyes have a mind of their own as they scan the Cafe I sit in, dropping only after they spot the back door.
My therapist does not seem to understand that paranoia is not a negative trait. He doesn't understand much, in all honesty.
Hello, Victoria. Have you seen any ghosts today? You're looking toward the window- Is it another escape plan?
Noticing things is an addiction. He may be right about that, but my addiction keeps me alive.
You reported a break in this week. Have you been seeking danger?
There is no real danger involved with my life anymore, except for the occasional trip to the dentist. I stated this fact in a monotonous tone, wanting to cut the session short.
I do not seek danger, it actively hunts me out.
Danger, with his blue eyes and maniac grin.
I am once again back to the conclusion, despite the disbelief of my therapist, that my ghost is not really the chronic affect of my life as a spy, but the boy.
The pretend search for him is ongoing, being led by some of the best of his department. They must have seen the signs of the fake breakout, but like myself, they chose to ignore it.
I miss him, more than I care to admit. He may be a killer, but after all, are we not the same thing?
What would Drake do if he lost his brother?
I pull out my cell, reminding myself that distraction is not the same thing as running away. I am not escaping my past, I'm only on extended vacation from it.
This distraction is not living up to its name.
"You're calling me from a new number," Vanessa's voice is suspicious. "Which means that you've done a terrible thing to the phone I bought for you."
"Dr. Felton would call you paranoid." I take a sip of my coffee.
"He's an idiot." I can almost invision her eyes rolling. "And I am correct."
I feel no need to answer.
"Victoria," She growls. "What did you do?"
"I may or may not have dropped it out of a window."
There is silence on the line, which almost worries me.
She finally speaks. "Was it him?"
I don't blame her for the assumption.
"No." I sigh.
She loves him just as much as I love Drake, and just as blindly. Vanessa does not admit it, but I can tell that she wants it all to be a misunderstanding.
He is not innocent.
I remember the first week after they took him away. I stayed awake all night, simply to make sure that she doesn't go through with her plan to break him out.
The door opens with a sound of bells chiming and my head snaps up.
"I've got to go."
"Sure thing. And-" The connection is raspy. "Happy birthday."
There goes my distraction.
The boy has short blonde curl, and wears an impish smile that curls his lips just enough to show teeth.
Mischief radiates from him, and I smile in the face of it as he settles in the seat beside mine.
"Happy nineteenth, Victoria." In front of me, he places a jade box with a dragon on top.
I chuckle. "Thank you, Drake."
The ring is beautiful- It holds flecks of green and gold, and as I turn it in my fingers, the light transforms the colour into art.
My smile must have faltered.
"What is it, Victoria?" His eyes suddenly go wide. "Shit- This is not what it looks like. I'm not proposing."
I shake my head. "I know."
"Oh." His fear vanishes. "It's about..."
"Light." I conclude.
Drake invests a great deal of energy into appearing indifferent, but true to my nature, I see beneath the facade.
I am not the only one who is haunted by Light Malcolm.
"I've been told it helps to talk," I offer.
His smile is sad. "I failed him."
"We all did." My eyes follow the embriodery on the table, instead of the handsome figure in front of me. "He failed you as well."
With that notion he doesn't disagree.
"It's driving me insane." He places his head on my shoulder, brushing the top of my hand with his. "There's nothing I can do for him."
I run my fingers through his hair, calculating my responce. "We'll find him. Until then, we just have to move on. Forgive, Draco, for nothing good can come from anger."
He chuckles lightly. "I hope you're not quoting your therapist."
"Why?" I object lightly.
"He's an idiot."
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