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.
