|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 2:16 pm
While Fiach doesn't have a hacker at this time, he does keep a journal that Li'tae keeps alluding to. While this journal is mostly being created for Li'tae to show off to the few hackers he likes and trusts, it is also for me to build up Fiach's character a bit.
Stay tuned for a spiffied up and more IC introduction and journal. ^^
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 3:23 pm
o1 Do not post in this journal.
o2 Unless Li'tae lets you in on any of the information in this journal, your character will not know any of this IC.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 3:24 pm
Fiach's Family
Name: Adalia
Relation: Sister
Thoughts on Her: Adalia is truly annoying. She thinks she knows best for everyone, and will stop at nothing to prove that she is correct. While she is my sister and I would die for her - I would rather not have to tolerate her presence as much as I can. She moved in with me after our father kicked her out, stays at my home, constantly changes boyfriends, and is just generally an over the top sort of personality. We don't talk about much - so I don't really know very much about her. Sometimes I wish we talked more, and that I trusted her...its just hard. Whenever I do start to open up, she goes off and tells everyone what I say. I don't like gossip, and the fact that my sister is one, makes trusting her all the harder.
Fiach's Friends
Name: Sionce
Relation: Best Friend
Thoughts on Sionce: I trust Sionce with my life. I would die for him if it were necessary and truly wish he would take better care of himself. Though I would do all of that, I still haven't learned how to open up to him. I don't know if I ever will, and I think part of that inability to trust him with what's going on inside of my head is because he won't really open up to me, either.
Name: Hacker Trisste
Relation: He's Sionce's Hacker
Thoughts on Trisste: He seems to be very quiet and kindly, though he does tease me. Both about how I'm friends with Sionce and how I behave. Occasionally annoying, but I know he usually means well. ...I think.
The Customers
Name: Brad
Hacker: Nigh
Thoughts on Brad: He seems to get agitated quickly - especially when it comes to his work. Brad seems to be a caring person, underneath all the gruffness. He was nice enough to buy me food, and was polite during our second meeting. Maybe he isn't so bad after all..
Thoughts on Nigh: He seems to be a quiet, but friendly sort. He's very childish and hyperactive, though. I'm beginning to see why Brad gets annoyed with him...
Name: Dean
Hacker: Unknown at this time
Thoughts on Dean: He seems to be awkward around people, like I am. Interested in food and this game called WoW. He was very polite and kind, but seemed extremely tired.
Name: Violetta
Hacker: Aiko
Thoughts on Violetta: She is loud and obnoxious. Over the top and far too quick to make up silly pet names for people. But I think she means well.
Thoughts on Aiko: I haven't really met Aiko yet.
Name: Raven
Hacker: Enya
Thoughts on Raven: He seems to be a bit of an oddball. A little random in his clothing and seems to be somewhat unaware of his appearance at times. But, he is very polite and friendly.
Thoughts on Enya: I haven't really met Enya yet.
Name: Aya
Hacker: Syaoran and Alorne
Thoughts on Aya: She seems to be overly dramatic and cheery. A bit of an oddball. I think she'd get along well with Miss Violetta...
Thoughts on Syaoran: I haven't really met this hacker yet.
Thoughts on Alorne: I haven't had the pleasure of really meeting this hacker yet.
Name: Suki
Hacker: Satoshi
Thoughts on Suki: I'm not really sure yet, I haven't had much correspondence with her yet.
Thoughts on Satoshi: I haven't really had the pleasure of talking to this hacker yet...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 4:38 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 4:39 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 4:40 pm
Entrance with Raven, Kegan, and Vendetta Complete.
Entrance for Slann Complete.
Entrance for fweedle, hotaru, and Chrystali
Entrance RP: Casi Complete.
ERP: Shikai-Chan Complete.
ERP: Shnazz Complete.
IRP: Help me with-...why HELLO there With Chrys' character Alex. Complete.
The Illuminated Path With Faithom. In progress.
ERP: o0_Daisuke_0o In progress.
ERP: X Purple--Platypus X In progress.
Private Roleplays
Last Place on Earth
An accidental meeting at iJava-Bahn between Fiach, Brad, and Nigh. Complete.
My Past, Your Past
Fiach meets Sionce's older sister Emile. Complete.
Chance Meetings
Fiach runs into Brad at a local bar, merely by chance. Complete.
To Touch is to Truly Feel
Fiach accidentally runs into Sionce - and they find two boys making out in the shop. Complete.
Where You Are
After the debacle with Trisste and Li'tae, Fiach guides Sionce back to his house to try and calm him down. A decision that could rend their friendship, or turn it into something more? In progress.
A Chilly Winter Eve
Fiach and Alex run into one another at a local coffee shop. Complete.
Return to Oblivion
In a fit of need, Fiach accidentally calls Brad, asking him for help.
What comes from Spite...
Displeased with everyone, including himself, Fiach concludes to hire a new employee.
To Forget...
In an attempt to get her brother to cheer up and act like a normal person again, Adalia kicks him out of the house for a day. Fiach wends his way over to a quaint little cafe, where he runs into Brad. The last man he was looking to run into, due to the...awkward...conclusion of their last visit.
Metaplots and Missions
Metaplot : Reboot
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 4:41 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 4:44 pm
Fiach, Li'tae, and Adalia are creations of Loki Saimar's mind.
Sionce and Trisste are creations of Rown's mind.
The templates, certs, original concept, and lines for the .NET Hackers' pets are done by Tooaya.
.NET Hackers belongs to Loki Saimar, with much help from Rown.
Thanks to Anya for the idea of B/C journals.
Graphics in this layout were designed by ` Akilah, paid for by Loki.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 5:36 pm
A Look Into the Past - When Our Eyes First Met
Five years ago, I was dating a girl named Aine. She was three years my elder and an absolutely amazing singer. Her beauty and voice lived up to her namesake, the Queen of the Faeries. At sixteen years old, I had fast developed a love for music, with my mother being Irish and my father Native American, traditional music was sewn into my soul. I met Aine one night while working at my mother's pub. I served as both waiter and entertainment on nights when my mother couldn't book anyone else.
Tonight, though, a beautiful girl had walked in and asked quietly, politely, to see the manager. To her surprise, my mother had approached her with a soft smile on her face. The girl introduced herself, in her sweet honeyed voice, and I couldn't help but be drawn in. As my mother's eyes flickered in my direction, I felt my face heat up, before I quickly turned back to my work. As the girl asked if she might sing for us tonight, in return for tips from the customers, I turned my beseeching eyes to my mother.
With a knowing smile, she agreed, and announced the girl on our small stage. The rowdy customers quickly quieted as the girl's breathtaking voice began to cast a spell on us. Many a man earned a slap from his partner that night, as the men stared openly, and the women grew sullen. Though all enjoyed the song, the women were not happy at how quickly their men's eyes had to turned to this young lady.
Considerable applause filled our pub as she blushed and exited the stage. My mother shoved a hat into my hand and I went around gathering tips for her - the hat was full to the brim when I was done, and she was invited back for the next night.
As my mother and I drove home, the image of that soft spoken girl would not leave my mind. When I slept, I dreamed of the music she had sung, and of how it could sound even more ethereal with but a little flute. When I went to work that afternoon, I grabbed my wooden flute from its case, and ran the entire way.
My face glowing from the run, my mother greeted me with a laugh and a hug, that I took with a look of displeasure on my face. She ruffled my hair before noticing the flute in my hand, and with a nod, consented to let me play if the girl would allow it.
I waited the tables with baited breath, hoping to see the lady Aine before the night was through. As the clock sounded saying it was nigh on eleven, the girl blew through the doors as if a host of fae had opened them before her. Her long bright auburn hair and lightly freckled face were done up so that she looked as if she might return to the Sidhe before the night was done.
As she took to the stage to begin her songs, I silently begged my mother to indicate I wanted to accompany her. But before my mother could even say anything, the girl's beautiful mouth opened and she asked for me to join her. We played the song from the night before, creating a haunting tune, that left the customers slack jawed and wanting more.
In one of the few bouts of kindness my mom was known to suffer, she let me play through the end of the night. Aine promised to come back the next day, but this time, with pen and paper so we might write some of our own songs. With my eyes bright from the joy of playing with such an amazing singer, I breathlessly accepted the opportunity. A smile lit my face as she reached up and gave me a peck on the cheek.
After that night, I knew that music would be my life's passion. How could one possibly hear her voice, partake in that heavenly music, and not want to make it last forever?
How little did I know the fun would not last forever.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 7:58 pm
A Look Into the Past - The Making of a Song
For the first time in my short life, the notes of a cheery jig were playing over in my mind. I hadn't been one given to write songs that were easy on the mind, but today the only melodies that flew out of my fingertips were pleasant ones. A true smile lit my face as I happily jogged to the pub. I couldn't wait for Aine to show up, so we could play again. I didn't like waiting tables, but making music was something that brought me true joy at the end of each day.
When I got to the pub, Aine wasn't there, but I was sure she'd show up later. After all, it was only four in the afternoon, there were hours to go before the day was done. Setting my flute case and backpack down, I put on my server's apron and began waiting tables. It was easy to remember the tables and the orders, so my mind quickly wandered to melodies and lyrics.
After a couple of hours, Aine finally showed up. Though she had forgotten the pen and paper, her smile when she walked in lit up my day. She apologized for forgetting the pad, but I delightfully pulled out my binder and a couple of pens. Making sure my Mom wasn't around, I quickly ushered her to a table in the back where, over light drinks and a snack, we began our writing.
The night passed quickly as we whittled away at the song, I had most of the flute melody in my head already, so jotting it down on paper was easy. I waited tables between lyrics, and finally, four hours after we'd begun, we had finally completed a song. My joy at the completion showed and even my mother's agitation at how I'd let the other waiter have a chance at some tables most of the night didn't dampen it. With great pleasure, I strode to the stage and began the melody.
The flute had a slow, easy start to the song, and I noted even my mother began to relax. As Aine's voice began to fill the air, the melody picked up tempo and I began to dance to the music. Slowly, our customers got up and moved tables to the side, before joining in the merriment.
With delight, I noticed even my mother had a dancing partner. As the song ended and the customers applauded, Aine smiled and winked at me, before beginning a slow, haunting song. After listening to the first few sentences, I too, began to play. As I closed my eyes I could see the lyrics form in front of us.
Everyone stopped and watched as we began to dance together, singer and flutist, a song unplanned, but a song worthy of any great artist. At the song's end, Aine flashed me a smile and snatched up the hat.
I was sure that tonight we'd be able to spend time together outside of the singing, but as soon as the tips had been divided, she had a shot of whiskey, and headed out the door.
I followed her to the street, but caught sight of a car awaiting her. As she handed the tips over to a man who looked similar to herself, she turned and gave me a sad wave, before climbing in.
The car drove off, and I began to wonder - was she playing me, or was she in trouble?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 8:00 pm
A Look Into the Past - A Mother's Ire
A couple of weeks passed before Aine came in again. During that time I slacked off at work, apparently a little too much. My mother soon caught on to how impatiently I waited for Aine's return. She constantly chided me, reminding me that work came before pleasure. And that music was not to be considered work.
One evening after work, my mother had a bit much to drink. She broke a few of the shot glasses we had, as well as a few liquor bottles, while trying to break them over my head. Since she was throwing them, they were easy enough to duck. Our regulars weren't as regular that week, and she blamed it on me. Saying I gave "poor customer sevice". Though I believed it was because they only came to hear Aine's voice, I quietly nodded and accept the scolding. It would only get worse, after all, if I didn't.
Though by this time I was taller than my Mom, at 5'10", I still felt cowed in her presence. When she glared up at me, I felt as though she was really looking down on me. Eventually I began to slouch, not wanting to seem as if I was attempting to intimidate her, though it did cross my mind that I could overpower her more than a time or two.
Ever since I'd started growing a lot, I'd been getting into fights almost constantly. Whether at school with other kids, at the pub with adults, or at home with my mother. It always felt as though life was just one big fight. And, of course, living in Ireland - if I couldn't fight and stand up for myself, I wasn't much good for anything. My mother used to put me to bed every night saying I was of the "fighting Irish".
With that as your bedtime tale, who wouldn't grow up fighting?
My fights with my mother grew worse during the two weeks Aine didn't come into the shop. I could never bring myself to fight back, or even to hold my mother back until she had calmed down. The first time I'd done that, I had left large bruises on her wrists. After that, she got more violent with me each time - I think she knew I couldn't bring myself to hurt her. In return, my fights with other people grew to an all time high.
It ended one night when Aine walked in - a man who easily towered over me had me pressed against the wall. His large meaty hand was wrapped around my neck as my mother stood off behind the bar and watched. A self satisfied smile on her face. A couple of the man's friend's stood by, and slow recognition dawned on my face as I realized one of them had been the man my mother had danced with.
A sudden fury hit me and I did my best to pound my balled up fists into his face. Though I broke a couple of his teeth out and bloodied his face, he didn't release his grip on my neck. Quickly losing breath, I threw my mother one last, pitiful glance hoping she'd intervene on my behalf. The look she sent me clearly said, "You're on your own, kid." and I allowed myself to slip into unconsciousness.
When I woke up, gentle hands were touching my face with a mint smelling substance. It smelled familiar, and thinking my mother had finally pitied me enough to come to my aid, I stuttered her name. As I opened my heavy eyelids, though, I found that was not the case.
Instead, I stared up in the brilliant emerald eyes of Aine. Her face was red, and her eyes were swollen, as if she'd been crying. I tested each of my limbs as I carefully sat up. Though it hurt to move, I grinned and told her I was fine. After she finished putting the salve on my face, she gently touched my lips.
My lips were swollen and busted - and she was sure we couldn't play again until they were healed. Though I continued to work at the pub, my heart wasn't in it. Aine came in every day, but her songs weren't as joyful. Each day that same man came and picked her up, and each day I felt as if I wasn't worth a dime.
My mother's smile each day as I sorrowfully watched Aine leave is something I'll never forget. A mother's ire at her son is never over.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 10:40 pm
A Look Into the Past - The Mysterious Man
Finally all healed from the fight with the stranger, my mother had increased my time at work. She had even gone so far as to threaten to break my flute if I didn't pick up my pace and handle the orders while Aine sang. I was banned from singing with her at work for the time being, and though I wished I wasn't, and wished I had the courage to rebel and to play anyway - I didn't. It wasn't that I'd been afraid of being beat up - I regularly got into fights as it was. I wasn't afraid of upsetting my mother, either. She got mad at me whether I'd done anything or not.
I just didn't want to make Aine cry again. I had put her on a pedestal of the things that were "too good to be true". Too "pure" for my touch. And I would do anything to ensure that she stayed there.
One day, after work, she hovered near the door. Not willing to leave, but not willing to stay. My shift was nearly over and my mother had gone to the back. So I quickly offered to escort Aine out.
She hesitated and continuously glanced back out to the car. I smiled, and took her chin in mine. Bending low, I whispered that everything would be all right. I promised I'd just escort her to the car, and come right back in. I wouldn't speak a word, I wouldn't start a fight.
I never was sure if she had believed me, or had just been so desperate to have someone with her, but she quickly took my arm in hers and nodded her consent.
Leaning heavily on me, we walked the short distance to the car. As I opened the door and gave a small bow to her, the man on the other side stepped out. He slammed the door with such force that Aine shuffled behind me and we both winced. Out strode a man with looks almost identical to Aine's and anger on his face.
I stood firm in front of Aine, not wanting that ire to turn on her, and stared into the man's eyes as he approached. He roughly reached out for her arm, and before I knew it, I had snatched his wrist and thrust it away from us.
Immediately, I regretted my decision as he reared back and gave me a sharp right hook to the jaw. Stars danced in my vision as I leaned heavily on his car for support. I vaguely heard Aine cry out my name as he roughly dragged her to the other side's door and shoved her in. He came back around and grabbed me by the front of my shirt. As he did so, I could smell the liquor on his breath and prayed that he wouldn't be driving them home.
After a quick glance into the car showed he wouldn't be, I breathed a small, short lived sigh of relief as he brought his knee up into my stomach and my lungs felt like they'd explode as the air rushed out of me.
He threw me to one side and got into the car before slurring in a loud, angry voice, "Don't touch my sister again, you hear me?!"
The car door slammed and they sped away as I lay on the ground wishing my lungs and head would stop hurting. I will never forget the look of fear on her face as they drove away.
When she came in the next day, her brother came with. She sang, but sadly, and without the life she'd had before. Her brother watched me the entire time she sang, his eyes cold. Calculating.
Eventually he accepted me. Though in return, to take part in his sister's company and music, I would have to accept regular beatings. Beatings that I knew would have been her's had I not been there. I also had to supply a steady stream of free liquor from our pub.
A theft that did not go unnoticed from my mother.
Even though I was getting into fights, being beaten regularly by both Aine's brother and my mother, the time I did get to spend making music with Aine made everything feel worthwhile. I would do anything to make sure she was happy, no matter what it took.
Her brother picked us up every day after work, and every day Aine drove us home. It became a routine - one that I never questioned. Though I probably should have after Aine also became a heavy drinker.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2007 10:47 pm
A Look Into the Past - The Question Unasked
My seventeenth birthday had come and gone. Christmas had passed us by. And New Year's Eve was uneventful. Aine and I continued to write songs and play music at my mother's pub together as I prepared to graduate early from high school. I'd finished some of my last finals earlier that day, and had gone on to work an earlier shift at the pub. For once, my mother had seemed pleased with me, and had even let it pass when Aine came in for a short while to give me a gift and a chaste hug. She promised to pick me up after work and that we'd go out - have an actual date, our first one without her brother, that very night.
Nerves and excitement at the prospect swarmed me through out the day. I wanted the shift to end - yet I didn't. I didn't want to go on a date with this girl I had fallen hard for and have it all ruined in a single evening. But at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to go out and have a good time with her. To take her to a movie, or to go dancing. Something simple, something fun. Somewhere we could relax and just be ourselves.
By the time the day was over and I'd finished counting my tips, Aine had still not shown up. Worry grew as I waited on the stoop of the pub. Finally, I saw the car pull up. At first glance, I thought the car had been moving abnormally, but I pushed it aside, thinking it was just nerves.
To my disappointment, Aine's twin brother was in the car. He sat in the backseat, eyes bloodshot and hollow. Sighing as I threw my bag in next to him, I moved up to the passenger seat. I remember asking Aine why he brother came along, but she had just shrugged. As I buckled in, I smelled liquor floating through the air. Remembering how her brother had looked, I had, at the time, assumed it was just him. I thought to ask, I should have asked, if Aine had been drinking. But I didn't.
The ride started out all right at first. But soon her movements grew jerky, and the car sped up and slowed down erratically. We were out on a road with no one around, no houses, no other cars. Just the hills and trees. Panic began to grip me as Aine's brother started yelling at her in the back seat. He wanted her to go faster, said she was too stupid to drive properly at all.
I remember telling her to slow down, it was okay. I could drive. But she refused and her knuckles grew white as her hands gripped the steering wheel as if for dear life. As I saw a sharp corner fast approaching, I began to pray. Pray that she'd stop the car and let me drive. Pray that her brother would just shut up. Pray that we'd miraculously make that turn.
Before we came to it, Aine's tear stained face turned towards mine and she whispered the most sorrowful words I've ever heard.
"I'm sorry. I love you."
And then my world exploded.
When I finally woke up, they told me I'd probably never walk again. That I'd been out for 3 weeks. I was in the ICU. My mother was there, waiting for me to wake up. Her face didn't look as if she'd lost any sleep, though, so I can't say for sure if she'd actually stayed there with me the whole time - or just dropped by from time to time. As I looked up at her, I cringed, knowing a lecture would come.
But it didn't.
Instead, she gently brushed my hair out of my face and leaned in close. She gently whispered, "Aine and her brother are dead." before leaving me to my cries of grief. As she walked out of that room, I knew my mother was walking out of my life.
I eventually walked out of that hospital. But as its sliding glass doors closed, I knew I'd never be the same. I made my way to where I'd lived with my mother, to find my bags packed and ready. All the money I had made was waiting for me in an envelope, along with a note, asking me to move out.
I rented an apartment and moved in. But each day brought my despair and grief closer until finally it was just too much. The guilt of not asking that one question, the one question that could have saved her life, took away my ability to live and to think clearly.
I tried to take my own life. I slit both of my wrists with care and settled in to wait for death to take me.
Unfortunately, my landlord came in. He'd knocked and I hadn't answered. I'd forgotten he'd had some repairs to do on the place. He'd let himself in and discovered me on the floor, bleeding to death. My landlord called an ambulance, told me I was going to be okay and held me until the paramedics arrived. He rode with me to the hospital, and held my hand through my stay.
He offered to let me keep the apartment if I wanted, but I couldn't bear to see the accusation in his eyes each time he looked at me. After I returned home his checks were frequent, and it began to wear me down. He was afraid I'd try to kill myself again. He was probably right. If he hadn't extended his hand when I needed it, I probably wouldn't be here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 3:59 am
A Look Into the Past - One Year Later
A year had passed since Aine's death. I hadn't thought it would be possible to ever want to live again. I'd managed my way through the past year by pretty much just flitting from one place to the next. Never staying too long, never really resting. I looked terrible - big bags under my bloodshot eyes, I'd lost a lot of weight and didn't have the strength to do much but sleep.
I'd managed to get another job, though it killed me to work at a pub again. I was quickly promoted to head of the wait staff, and began to bring in enough steady tips to have a place of my own again. I drifted from table to table, always smiling and being polite, but never really caring about the customer, or what they were saying. Just being amiable and agreeable. Enough to get some tips.
Then I started noticing the same man came in, again and again. He always asked for me to be his waiter. I tried my best to not look into his eyes, because each time I did I saw pity. Sorrow. Understanding. Things I didn't want to see, things I was scared of.
One day at closing, the man stayed late. As I was trying to bustle out the door, he caught my arm and gestured to seat in front of him. He flagged down the manager and paid him some cash, though I didn't get to see how much. The manager brought out some drinks and a couple plates of food, and quickly disappeared from the pub.
The man indicated that I was to eat, and ravenous as I was, I did just that. Slowly the pub emptied out, and as the last person left, the man set down his fork and knife and cleared his throat. I suddenly realized my mistake and moved to get up, but he slapped the iron strong fist around my arm once again and forced me back into the chair.
All he did was watch me eat, with those dark, piercing eyes of his. When finally it grew to be too much for me, I threw the fork down and asked him what he wanted. The words he said chilled me almost as much as the ones Aine had spoken to me.
He said, simply, "I want to listen. To care."
He told me of his lost love, of his past. Never asking me to share, only letting me listen. Showing me that others had suffered greatly, too, and others had survived. Silence greeted the end of his tale and by the tears on his cheeks, I knew he'd spoken true.
I opened my mouth, but no words came. The man seemed to sense my discomfort and gave me a soft smile. He reached across the table and clasped his hand over mine. He told me I needn't worry about sharing my story, but that he'd be in the next day. That his name was Ailin, and he'd love it if I'd join him for dinner that night, as well.
I shook my head and politely refused, but the next night he cornered me again and made me sit down.
After some time of this game, I grew tired and asked him just what he wanted with me. He gave me that same soft, sad smile and responded that he wanted simply to listen, and to care.
Ailin gave me his phone number and told me that if I ever needed a friendly ear, I could call him any time, any where and he would be there in an instant. I felt awkward accepting it, but did. Secretly planning to throw it away the first opportunity I got. But for some silly reason, I didn't.
Eventually the one sided conversations became two sided, as I filled him in on details of my day. Slowly growing more animated, the more we talked. Ailin always gave me that same soft smile every day as he'd leave, and remind me that he merely was there to listen and to care.
Slowly, I trusted him enough to let him sit next to me rather than across from me. And finally, one night, when the nightmares returned from the crash and the guilt came bearing down on me with it, without knowing, I dialed Ailin's number. I was crying the entire time, and ashamed of it, but Ailin came to me straight away and held me through the night.
That night I trusted enough to open up again, and I fell asleep clutched against Ailin's body. I felt protected from my nightmares, and slept well for the first time since the day I found out Aine was dead. When I awoke the next morning, I could smell food cooking in the kitchen.
Stunned, I sat bolt upright in bed, before throwing on some pants over my boxers and rushing out into the kitchen. To my relief, it was only Ailin, though at first my sleep addled mind couldn't quite grasp why he was there.
When he saw that I was awake, though, the smile he gave me calmed me back down and I gratefully sat down in the chair he indicated. My hair was over long and in need of a haircut, but I bent to the food he set down in front of me with a passion almost before he'd even set the plate down!
With a chuckle, Ailin had pushed my hair out of my face and found some scissors, a brush, and a hair tie. After breakfast, he cut my hair and tied it back. Nodding at his handiwork, he'd sent me off to work. That night, he again came by the pub. I no longer avoided him, but enjoyed his visits with a relish. And each night, Ailin would take me home.
I began to wonder why he was doing all of this for me. Why he seemed to care so much. But I was afraid to ask at the time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 4:02 am
A Look Into the Past - A Love Unrealized
Ailin and I eventually moved in together. Though he often gave me hugs, that at first I begrudgingly accepted and later came to cherish, I never really thought much of it. The gentle stroking of my hair each night as we watched a movie was a comfort, as was the way each night that I had a nightmare, I could crawl into bed with Ailin and he would hold me tight until my tears had subsided and I had faded into the world of dreams.
I suppose you could say I came to take these caring gestures for granted. In time, I was able to date another girl. And another. My relationships never lasted long, because I couldn't open up to them fully, and because I couldn't really let go of Ailin. When I look back on it now, I'm disgusted with how I acted - the girls I dated were little more than distractions from reality. I more or less used them for my own pleasures, and left them when they wanted more than just a dalliance in bed every once in a while.
One night, at the pub, a girl I'd been dating came in and saw me talking to Ailin. Her eyes fell on the way we looked at each other, and how he would softly brush my hair out of my face. She confronted me that night, telling me off for "two timing her". I didn't understand, at first, but in retrospection - I suppose I was two timing her. She slapped me, but it didn't sting nearly so much as the tears I saw streaming down her face as she left.
When I spoke to Ailin about it, the man who had taken me in and helped start the healing on my wounds, his eyes grew angry. I began to falter as I spoke, and as his face showed the pain of my words, and the actions I'd been taking, I realized my mistake. He stood up, roughly, and started to walk out of the room. I ran to catch him, and as soon as I caught his arm and turned him towards me, my fears were met as I saw the grief and pain etched clearly in his eyes and features. The look he gave me is one that still haunts me.
His face turned to fury, and he slammed me against the wall. He crushed his lips to mine in a kiss that expressed his frustrations, his impatience, and his unwillingness to keep on like this. Ailin didn't say anything when he left, but his eyes said it all.
I never saw Ailin again after that day, and I was crushed by the loss of what I quickly came to realize had been love.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
