Day Eight: Companion (1st of August)

Myles wasn’t in his lab this time. He wasn’t hidden in the bar as well. Instead, he went to the most obvious place in the world, a place teenagers went to once alcohol was pumped through their veins. He hid in the back garden, a place every girl Beckett brought home dreamed about going. Because in the middle of the garden was a staircase leading underground, which contained a perfectly clean bedroom and so on and so forth.

He glanced at the people that were behind the garden maze, clutching at their dates and gazing at the sky. How trivial. Everything went perfectly for them, as was expected. They didn’t plan anything, not one single detail. He smiled at himself, playing with his hands, his stomach lurching every so often.

This wasn’t how this night was supposed to turn out. She was supposed to accept the invitation in the bookstore. He was supposed to pick her up at her house and escort her to the Mercedes... he wanted to bring a limo, but Beckett insisted that that was on the extravagant side. She was supposed to dance with him, and he was supposed to impress her whilst they were waltzing... discussing anything and everything from Mendel’s law to Van Gogh’s last piece before he killed himself. She was supposed to be spending time with him, and not charming lovable Beckett.

No. It wasn’t Beckett’s fault, far from it, in fact.

He sighed loudly, and pushed his thoughts away from his head. Perhaps an elaborate study of curcumin would put his mind off things. Curcumin... amazing properties. Rumored to restore dead neurons even. How to test it though?

“Hello, Myles.”

Myles sighed. “Hello, Artemis. And how might you be?” Artemis settled himself by his younger brother. “I am well, little brother. The question is though, how are you?”

Myles shrugged, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails (he was religious about hygiene, that one).

“That Emily is a feisty one, don’t you agree?”

Myles sighed, feeling quite testy. “Artemis, where are you going with this?”  Artemis smiled. “Playing the affectionate older sibling, are you?”

“You wound me, Myles. I care for you very much. You constructed a perfectly enjoyable event, and mother and father are acting younger than we are.”

Myles smiled despite the knot in his stomach. “Wonderful,” he muttered. “Did they say it was better than yours?”

Artemis actually laughed at this. “You wish,” he replied. “Emily reminds me a lot of Holly, you know.”

Myles looked at his brother, face devoid of all interest. “Really.”

“Oh yes,” he said, “Very much so. Right down to the short temper.” Artemis smiled at his own joke. 

He looked at Myles, who was expressionless. “Myles, I know she frustrates you. And that she’s a lot to handle. She seems devious and she snaps at everything you say.”

Myles nodded in silent agreement. “I almost broke her chin two hours ago, did you know that? It was covered in blood and she looked like she loathed me.”

Artemis mentally winced. He almost broke her chin?

“And I don’t know why I act completely idiotic around her. When she walked through those doors...” Myles sighed at the memory. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he complained, running a hand through his dark hair.

“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”

Myles flushed a brilliant scarlet, and shook his head quickly. “Why does everyone assume that? I don’t! Damn it!” he spat, turning away from his brother, knowing that his feeble lie would wink out like a flame in the middle of a pond.

Artemis smiled knowingly, and wished to aggravate his deranged brother even further, but decided against it. “Be patient, little brother, all hope is not lost. How do you think I married Maggie? She despised my very being for months... but she came to her senses sooner or later, and so I proposed as 

quick as possible.”

Myles grimaced. “Artemis, stop being a romance fanatic. It disturbs me.”

Artemis grinned. “I could go on, if you wish. Our first night in Nepal was quite riveting. It was a miserable day outside, and the wind howled nonstop. Maggie looked at me, her eyes lusting for-“

“Oh my god, Artemis, please stop embarrassing yourself!” groaned Myles, his hands shielding his ears from the monstrosities pouring out of Artemis’ mouth. “Very well, very well. How about we go inside? Find Beckett and mull around your lab until everyone leaves?” He glanced at a giggling couple, racing each other till the very last ends of the garden. Artemis twisted his face, utterly disgusted. “The things people do for fun,” he said, getting up.

Myles smirked at Artemis, quite amused. “Simpletons,” he mused, joining his brother.

***

Myles and Artemis sliced through the crowds of the celebrators, making their way to the kitchen. 

“Where do you suppose Beckett is right now?” Artemis asked, narrowly avoiding a speedy waitress who carried a dozen glasses of scarlet wine.

Myles shrugged, barely managing to conceal the look of hurt on his face. “Perhaps he is still with Emily by the toiletries.”

Artemis looked at him, surprised, and arched an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?” Myles simply shook his head, adjusting his bowtie. The sooner this party ended the better. Artemis wanted to say something that would put his brother at ease, but thought better of it, because he thought he saw a swish of white and gold making her way through the crowds and towards him and his brother.

Artemis considered two choices swimming in his head. He could either:

A)   Save Myles a night of heartbreak and brooding and direct his attention to the painting leading to his lab.

B)   Leave his brother alone to the mercy of his crush –he sniggered, causing Myles to glance at him worriedly- and let events unravel by themselves, giving him the freedom to tinker around Myles’ lab without being disturbed by either one of his brothers.

There was no time to proceed with option A. Artemis put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and gave a weak smile. “Good luck!” he said swiftly before speed walking to the trapdoor.

Myles, for once, was confused at his brother’s sudden departure. “Hey-” Myles cringed at his use of a common word, “Where are you going...?”

Artemis’ irrational behavior caused his stomach to drop at an impeccable speed. He turned around, looking for his brother’s large head. He wouldn’t, he thought, panicked. Myles’ breathing rate spiked. She’s coming. That is the only logical explanation. “I thought you were my brother!” he grumbled, heading towards the opposite direction of the danger approaching him.

“Myles!”

Myles winced and turned around slowly to find himself face to face with Emily, her chin turning a dullish blue. “I rather you don’t punch- err- the family jewels in a public precinct, because I could turn this entire crowd against you,” he said quickly, walking away from her. He could almost feel her roll her eyes at him. “Wait- Myles. I won’t punch you- not yet at least,” she said, gathering the many layers of her dress and running a bit until she reached him. To be fair, Myles was 6’1 (Beckett coming at a close 5’11 and Artemis at 5’10) and Emily was barely 5’6, so she couldn’t help but run while Myles took long, effortless strides.

Myles, however, was not convinced with her claim, not in the slightest. “What is it, Emily?” he asked, putting on an expressionless mask, his hands obscurely protecting his lower elements. She sighed and bit her lower lip (Myles willed himself to stay cool- this was unbearable). “Do you want to sit down somewhere?” she asked, looking around for an unoccupied table.

Myles looked at her uncertainly, defenses at bay. “You want to sit down with me?”

Emily’s face twisted into an expression he hoped he wouldn’t see again. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Myles sighed, peeking around the ballroom, trying to spot an escape route. This just wasn’t his day. “I suppose so. Follow me,” he muttered, heading toward the painting. He put his pinky finger on the exterior, and the painting pulsed gently, unlocking the clasps with a light hiss.

“Secret passage way?” she asked innocently, drinking in the colors of the faux painting.

Myles almost raised his dark eyebrows in surprise. Almost. “Correct. How did you...?”

Emily smiled mysteriously and slipped inside the painting, softly closing the door behind her before Myles could follow. He felt a burst of annoyance towards his guest, and gently knocked on the painting. “Emily, open the door,” he mumbled softly.

“Sorry? Can’t hear anything!” came the muffled reply. Myles could have swore he heard her smile. He grumbled as he repeated the security check, and tried to push the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“Emily,” he growled, his voice strained. “Would you open the door?”

“What’s the magic word?” came the singsong response. Myles let out a loud noise of frustration, disturbing a couple passionately kissing by the bathroom door. Myles sneered in their direction, his face twisted into an expression of revulsion. The couple tried to stare defiantly back, but soon crumbled under his poised gaze, both slinking away to another quiet area. Myles ‘hmphed’, satisfied, and rasped on the door for a good two minutes before Emily swung the door open, the edge of the painting harshly making contact with Myles’ exposed cheek. He cursed, stumbling backwards. “Oh. Woops!” giggled Emily, making her way towards the end of the staircase.

Myles grumbled even louder than before, mumbling a stream of very incoherent words as he stole past the crowd and went in through the trapdoor (a passing waiter that night later on swore that he saw steam coming out of the twin’s ears).

She’s impossible, spiteful, agonizing, loathsome, obnoxious, odious, beastly and very mean, thought Myles savagely, going down the steps two at a time.

Wait, why was he taking her to the lab?

Because you wish to impress her with your successful experiments accidently on purpose.

That’s preposterous!

Is it though?

Myles knew better than to argue with himself and ended the ongoing debate within his conscious. And then a wild thought occurred to him, making him stop dead at his tracks.

What if she locked the doors and began wrecking the place?

Myles picked up his speed, and banged the doors, his self applied rule of being judicious long forgotten. Emily opened the door, and Myles barged in the room, expecting to see broken flasks and dripping home made solutions.

...Except everything was in order, and nothing was broken. He shifted his gaze from the tables to the tubes to the blinking screens to his desk.

Nothing.

Emily looked at him, a smirk tugging at her lips. “What? You thought I was going to wreck the place?”

Myles walked past her, ignoring the fact that she had won. He shuffled some stray papers around and placed them on a nearby table. He pointed at a chair facing his desk. “You can sit down, if you wish,” he said smoothly, making himself comfortable on his own chair. Emily sat down opposite him, carrying herself with an air that just about matched his. She remained silent, but met his gaze steadily, jutting out her chin in an attempt to appear haughty.

Myles swallowed skittishly, but refused to tear his eyes away from her. There was a lot to look out, so he focused on her features. He started with her eyes. Those almond olive eyes that looked like two winking crescents. They were sharp, but dreamy and distant in a way he couldn’t exactly put his finger on. Myles frowned, detecting specks of hazel near the edges of her irises.

Emily herself seemed to be studying him. She finally looked away. “Your left cheek is swollen,” she noted, inspecting her nails. He automatically touched both his cheeks, noticing the difference instantaneously. She gave him a small smile, “You deserved it.”

Myles’ eyes widened. I deserved it? “Really? How on earth did I deserve it?” he asked truculently, eyes fixed on her bruised chin. She laughed, before narrowing her eyes. “You serious? Are you seriously telling you didn’t hit me in the bathroom?” she asked, looking at him with a cynical expression. It was Myles’ turn to laugh. “I didn’t hit you!” he exclaimed. “Not on purpose anyway,” he continued under his breath.

“So? A hit is a hit! You didn’t even say you were sorry!”

“I’m positively sure I have.”

“No, I remember. You were just staring at me because you were scared I was going to cry.”

“I was not!” said Myles lamely, knowing she was absolutely correct. “Well- you didn’t let me look at it, and you obviously dabbed it with hot water,” he continued feebly, drowning in those green, green eyes of hers. Emily looked like she was about to argue but paused, looking at him strangely. “How did you know that?” she asked, touching her chin. Myles rolled his eyes. “It’s palpable, really. That’s an obvious looking bruise –he tried not to look at Emily’s flaring nostrils-, and if you stopped yelling at me and actually listened for once in your life then I would have instructed you to run the tissues through warm water.”

Emily snorted. “Like it makes a difference.”

“Oh it does,” he replied, feeling smug for the first time that evening. Emily played with her fingers. 

“I’m sorry I was horrible to you,” she said, barely audible.

Myles looked at her, surprised at her sudden remorse. “Excuse me?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “You already heard me, you silly shit.”

Myles decided to try his luck. “Heard you say what, exactly?” he asked innocently, inching closer to her. Her hand was only four millimeters away from his. Not that he cared, of course.

“I’m apologizing for my ‘rude’ behaviour, jesus, Myles. You’re a bit difficult aren’t you?”

Myles looked at her helplessly, not quite sure what to say, but then he remembered an incident 

happening not long ago.. He was seven years old at that time...

“Father, why is mother in bed?” asked seven year old Myles. His dad peered at him over the newspapers. He gave a long sigh. “Your mother isn’t feeling very well, boyo.” Myles tried another question. “Is it because of Beckett’s redundant attempts at starting a fire ant farm?” Artemis Senior laughed at this and then frowned. “Beckett did what?”

The older twin explained Beckett’s dream of owning his very own fire ant farm. “I helped him dig in the correct places. Father, did you know-“

But he never got to complete his sentence involving the habitat of the fire ants because his brother had come striding in, his pants and underwear unapparent. “Bucko! Where are your pants?” asked his father uncertainly, putting down his newspaper. Beckett gave a toothy grin (he shouldn’t have allowed Myles to experiment on him; he had lost several teeth in the process) “I wanted to cheer mummy up, so I made her laugh,” he replied, ignoring Myles’ hands dusting the dirt off his wimpy kid shirt. “But she told me she wanted you to bring her the chocolate truffles. Dad I want chocolate truffles,” he continued, his eyes searching for the box.

“Right-o, Beck,” he turned to Myles. “Whenever a woman is upset, my boy, always give her chocolate truffles.”

Myles nodded solemnly, taking the advice to heart. Stupid girls, he thought to himself, trailing after his dad. They’re distracted by the sweetest things.

Myles hesitantly pushed a box of truffles towards the girl opposite him, waiting for her reaction.

Emily looked up, surprised. “Dark godiva chocolate truffles?” she asked in a pained tone.

Myles shrugged. “If you don’t like them..”

Emily shook her head eagerly. “I live for them, Fowl,” she said, helping herself to a couple of truffles (multiply the couple by fifteen). She chewed a truffle thoughtfully before looking at him strangely. “Why are you being so nice to me? I was horrible to you today.” Myles shrugged again, feeling himself grow hot. Fortunately for him, a loud clatter sounded from behind the distant tables, Myles and Emily simultaneously stood up together. She whirled around, trying to locate the source of the sound. “Where did that come from?” she asked, looking around about her.

Myles groaned. “What did you break this time, you little scoundrel,” he mumbled, walking over to the end of the lab.

Emily kneaded her eyebrows together. She pointed at herself quizzically. “Me scoundrel?”

Myles almost smiled at her confusion, and to Emily’s surprise, he lifted something black, white and fuzzy. “I suppose he wishes to be introduced,” said Myles, rolling his eyes and making his way towards her. She looked curiously at the bundle he was supporting. “What is that thing?”

A loud screech sounded from the bundle, and it toppled itself on the ground.

Emily’s already raised eyebrows rose a fraction higher, completely disappearing under her hair. “Myles, you have a monkey in your laboratory.”

Myles dusted his suit, and nodded eagerly at Emily. “Very good, Emily! Go ahead and have a truffle... unless, of course, you already finished them,” he said sarcastically, his primate’s presence bringing him back to his usual calm demeanor.

Emily couldn’t help but replace her scowl as a look of doubt flickered across her face. She crouched down, eyeing the monkey closely. It waved to her, and jumped on her head, surprising Emily. She yelped in shock and automatically stiffened, looking utterly terrified. “Myles, gettimoffme!” she squeaked, not daring to move. The monkey appeared to going through Emily’s hair. After he was finished, he gave Myles the thumbs up, making himself quite comfortable on Emily’ shoulders.

Emily winced as the mammal shrieked into her ear and looked pleadingly at Myles, who was having the time of his life. “Stop laughing, this is serious!” she hissed, frigid with fright.

Myles didn’t deign her the courtesy of obliging. Instead, he signed something to the primate on Emily’s shoulders. Go ahead, old friend, enjoy yourself.

The primate bared its teeth in delight. I love you, man.

It began snapping Emily’s bra-strap over and over again, taking pleasure in her wails of discomfort. 

Myles bit back a grin and coughed. He snapped twice and his little friend immediately stopped, jumping from Emily’s shoulder to Myles’.

Myles glanced over at Emily, who was turning a very ominous shade of red. “Emily, meet Professor Primate, my lab partner. He collects items that are required for my experiments,” he said, immensely enjoying himself, knowing that he was going to pay for it.

Myles expected Emily to march towards him and slap him. He expected her to shun him down with her sharp tongue. Hell, he even expected her to knee him relentlessly. What she did, however, surprised him greatly.

Emily Faucet was actually laughing. She clutched at her sides and held on to the table to support her shaking figure.

Myles and Professor primate exchanged looks of bewilderment. The monkey signed, “She’s hysterical, dude, get her out of here.”

Myles snorted and put his furry friend on the table before assisting Emily, who was on the ground. “Come on, Emily,” he said, offering her a hand. Emily swatted it, still laughing. The laughter died down into a smile, and she said, “Myles, come sit on the floor.”

Myles looked at the ground, and couldn’t help curling his mouth, his morals refusing he would do such a thing. “I’d rather not,” he told her curtly, turning away to his desk.

“Please?”

Oh- she just had to use that tone, didn’t she?

He looked helplessly at Prof. Primate, who was making elaborate kissing noises at him.

Myles scowled, signing, “No leftover chocolate from the chocolate fountain.”

The monkey snorted. Yeah right.

Myles sighed and sat by Emily, who rested her head on one of the counters. “Come closer, Myles.” Myles felt himself grow jittery (damn it harmones! This is getting way out of control!) and shook his head. “I’m fine, really.”

Emily let out a long sigh, and smiled blissfully at Myles (did she bat her eyelashes at him?) “But I wanted to tell you a secret,” she said, sounding disappointed, her lips forming into a pout. Myles stared at her- and it hit him. This explained everything, really. 

He scooted closer to her, noticing that her cheeks were colored feverishly. “Are you alright?” he asked her, staring at her hands.

Emily sighed and rested her head on Myles shoulder, causing him to stiffen to a degree to the extent that foreign street performers would be impressed.

Oh God oh God oh God oh God. This girl is insane.

Myles willed himself to breathe quieter than he had ever had, not wishing to disturb Emily and knock her out of her strange trance. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the rosy musk that naturally perfumed her.

“Myles... I think I had a scotch too many,” whispered Emily, brushing her hands over Myles’. Myles gulped audibly, his mouth going very dry. He couldn’t say anything. It was impossible.

“You’re nothing like Beck, you know that? Beck is really fit... but you’re really pale,” she continued, making little circles on Myles’ palm. “And you’re so...” she took a deep breath, “Confusing. One time you’re threatening me, the next you’re being so nice... so sweet,” she echoed, nuzzling his neck.

Okay- this was beyond what he could handle for one day.

Emily was obviously out of it. He was about to ease himself out of his position and help her up when Beckett barged in the room loudly, stomping over to Myles’ desk.

“Myles! Myles, where the hell have you been for the past two hours! Mum and Dad want you upstairs,” he said loudly, pausing for a moment. “Myles?” he called out more quietly, looking around.

Beckett walked over to the end of the room, and sure enough, he found Myles.

He arched both his eyebrows, and frowned. “Is that...?”

Crouching down, he faced the girl glued to Myles’ neck. “Is that... Emily?” he asked incredulously, his jaw dropping (his jaw actually did drop).

Myles bought his index finger to his lips, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Quiet, you might wake her.”

Beckett stared at his brother. “Myles, mum and dad need us upstairs. And,” he looked at Emily and then at Myles, very, very confused. “I thought-“

Myles sighed tiredly. “She’s intoxicated, Beckett,” he said, not offering any other explanation.

“She barely touched her champagne, Myles, how the bloody hell is she drunk?”

Myles shook his head. “Her pupils are unfocused, and she was acting very peculiar around me.”

Beckett tilted his head to the side, and then something dawned on him. “Myles, don’t wet your pants or anything, but I think she-“

“Lucy in the sky with diamonds,” muttered Emily, untangling herself from Myles (who drooped in disappointment). She looked around sleepily at her surroundings before bolting upright, her eyes alert and finally focused. She noticed her hand intertwined with Myles’ and stared at it, paralyzed.

“Well, you guys were quite the cozy pair,” said Beckett, grinning.

Myles dropped his hand and found sudden interest in his shoes, while Emily looked everywhere but the boys beside her. Beckett sighed irritably. “You guys are driving me bonkers! Myles- stop acting like a pathetic sod, you aren’t being yourself and it’s getting really annoying.” He turned to Emily, who attempted to readjust her slightly mused locks. “Why did you punch Myles?”

Emily snorted. “I didn’t punch him, stupid, he had an... accident,” she smiled at Myles, her gaze not as vicious as it used to be. “With the trapdoor.”

“What a feeble lie, Emily, even by your standards.”

“Poor Myles. Clearly you don’t know the difference between fiction and reality.”

“Oh- ha-ha, you’re so amusing.”

“You wouldn’t know amusing if Charlie Chaplin himself-“

Beckett whistled a piercing whistle, ending the jest with an abrupt start. “Shut up, the pair of you! Honestly, I’m getting a headache.” Beckett barely concealed his grin. He knew Emily would come around, she always did.

Emily snickered and Myles smirked, both looking like a pair of mischievous kindergarteners caught sneaking out of class.

“Sorry, Beck. We’ll behave,” promised Emily, crossing her heart, motioning Myles to do the same. 

“I’m my own person, Emily, therefore, I am the unattainable.”

Emily laughed. “Unattainable. Right. Let’s leave before your ego gets any bigger.”

Beckett opened the lab door, and the trio exited, Beckett in the lead, Emily and Myles bickering closely behind. 

- left-foot-fowl

______________________________________________

What can I say? Emily is a bit unpredictable. And yes, she got a bit tipsy (not whore-tipsy but she wasn't her brightest) because she felt bad about treating Myles like shit (after meeting his family and getting to know him a bit better). 

How ooc was he (Myles), on a scale of 1-10? Ha. Don't even answer that.