"Explain to me
This conspiracy against me
And tell me
How I lost my power." -Conspiracy

I was floating. Drifting, more like. With my hands spread out to my sides and my eyes relaxingly shut, I drifted through unconsciousness and white surroundings. It was empty in my mind, desolate and lonely, and I was happy about it.

For once there were no thoughts raging and attacking; I was peacefully submissive in my own bubble. It had been a long time since I was able to sleep like that, without any fear or speculation of what was going on in the real world. I was a feather on a scale of madness.

Something crackled in my dreamscape and I opened my eyes, no longer seeing just the plain vanilla but a black crack towards the top. It grew larger, a horrible cracking noise as it expanded, and soon the voices began to filter in from outside. From reality.

"Blake." A muted voice growled, tinged with anger and annoyance. The conversation seemed to have been going on for a while.

"Yeah?" I didn't even recognize his voice, low with contempt, it was distinguishable from his usual cheerful tone.

"You're being stubborn."

"I can see that."

"Just tell me where you were earlier today."

"Here." His voice replied simply but I knew that tone anywhere. It was one I was too accustomed to that I naturally tried to pick out whenever someone spoke to me. Fear. Blake was afraid.

It didn't occur to me whether or not I was still fast asleep, trapped in unconsciousness or tottering between the void into awakening. It must have been been somewhere in between because I had that falling sensation and awareness that I could tap into the outside world.

"Thousands of people, Blake. The program was seen by thousands of people, expecting to see Tilted Reality but instead we had to cancel your performance because their drummer wasn't there. Think about your reputation, damn it!" I was starting to feel a little hot, a little choked and warm.

"It was just one slip-up."

"One slip-up?" The voice growled. "Do you know how many setbacks this brings to the plan? If we're going to dominate the music industry, you have to listen to what I say-"

"None of us agreed to this!" Blake yelled back and I felt like shrinking back. I had never heard him sound so angry; it wasn't just mild irritation like when he bantered with Zeke, it was ice cold fury that sent me up in blazes. Though whoever the man was that Blake was talking to remained indifferent.

"You didn't have to," said the other man. "Because you all belong to me."

There was a deafening silence. There was a door slam. And then there was nothing. I snapped awake.

The first thing I realized that I could only still see white. It was crosshatched and dark, my air constricted by the warmth. A dull pain erupted towards the left side of my head and the delay took me a moment to realize I was underneath a blanket.

A loud crash exploded from the kitchen area, making me jolt and throw the blanket off, immediately wincing at the sunlight streaming through the open windows. It was dull and orange, showing signs of the setting sun and looming evening.

"Fuck." Blake's voice cried out in pain. Stumbling off the couch, I blindly look around before stumbling towards the kitchen where the crash and his voice sounded. Nearly tripping on a drum stick, I glanced over the counter and bit back a wince.

Strewn over the floors were assorted plates, all broken and scattered in pieces, destroyed like how the boy kneeling on the floor in front of me looked like. He had one hand cradling his arm, which had a nasty gash on the side, dripping with blood that splashed onto the whitewashed tiles.

Spiralling into a flashback, I remembered myself in this exact position, bleeding and broken on the floor while someone towered over me, waiting to strike again. But I wasn't Marco. I wasn't that unknown man from earlier. I was me.

Ignoring the remnants of my concussion, I tapped into my knowledge in how to treat injuries. I wasn't even thinking, my body already knew what to do. Grabbing the blanket off the couch, I ripped off a piece. I soaked it in water from the sink and hesitantly made my way to where Blake was situated on the floor, silent.

I cleaned out the cut, taking his arm gingerly in my own and frowning when he winced in pain. When I was finished, I ripped another piece of cloth and tied it around the wound tightly, neatly and precisely.

We sat opposite from each other; I was had my legs crossed while he kneeled in front of me. In a daze, he lifted his arm and stared blankly at the makeshift splint. I didn't like this Blake one bit; he was empty. It wasn't right.

The only sounds in the apartment were the rattling of the heat and the rumbling of cars driving by. My hands were limp on my lap and I frantically thought of ways to comfort him in this situation. It was never really my forte; after shutting myself inside my walls and refusing to come back, frosting the exteriors and turning cold-hearted, I never cared for other people.

Why was Blake different than the others?

"I hope that blanket didn't have any sentimental value." I snorted out, my voice rough as usual but hopefully obvious enough to be taken as a joke.

"My grandma knitted that for me." His coarse voice replied quietly, stroking the edge of the fabric with a thoughtful expression.

"Maybe she can make you another one?"

"My grandma's dead." He glanced up to meet my gaze.

"Oh."

Spelled into another awkward silence, Blake broke it after a few minutes of uneasiness. "I was joking by the way."

"You asshole." I reprimanded lightly, shouldering him playfully. That managed to gain a small smile from the boy across from me. He situated himself so that he could sit crosslegged like myself, stretching his wounded arm and wincing.

Around us were shards of broken glass, trapping us in a single space. It was symbolic in a way, we were two people wanting an escape but unable to go anywhere without getting hurt.

Debating the thoughts in my head, I asked quietly, "Who was he?"

Blake jolted upright, startled out of his thoughts. When he finally understood what I was asking, his gaze flickered to the door quick as a flash before dropping back to his hands. "Just someone I know." He answered vaguely.

"Someone important?"

Blake clenched his fists together. "Something like that, yeah."

Realizing now would be an ample opportunity to get answers from him, I reached out a tender hand and held one of his hands in mine. It shook slightly in my grasp. Forcing myself to relax, I coaxed a shy, cute small on my lips and promised, "You know you can tell me anything right?"

Ouch. There goes my heart.

"Yeah," A full grin spread across his cheeks, as he relaxed his hand in mine. "I know." After a few seconds, he added, "I'm guessing you overheard our arguement then, huh?"

"Not all of it," I answered truthfully. "I only woke up towards the end when it got really heated. By the way, why was there a blanket over my head? I could've suffocated."

He smiled meekly, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. "I kind of threw that on you to hide you once I saw him through the window."

"Oh?"

"I just... panicked, I guess."

"Why?" I was genuinely curious at that. Why did he have to hide me from whoever was in the apartment?

"Zeke," Blake explained. "is usually the one who gets all the girls. He's fine with Zeke initiating relationships. But I'm strictly forbidden." His gaze darkened.

"Forbidden?" I echoed. "By who? The guy from earlier?"

"Yeah." said Blake lamely. "Tom."

The realization that it was Tom yelling at the drummer had me bristling. There was something off about that man, and though I hated to admit it, Mike was right about him. Perhaps, Mike's reasons for revenge was stupid and childish, but there was something going on with Tilted Reality and I intended to find out; deal or no deal.

"Why can't you be in a relationship with someone?" I questioned.

"I have a reputation to keep." He hissed out, as if the sentence were acid or a bad taste lingering in his mouth. "I'm supposed to be the happy-go-lucky cheerful bloke, right? That's who I am, but he took it and distorted it. And now I can't be anyone else."

Something clicked in my mind; the very first time I met him, Blake had been a complete asshole. "Is that why you act like an ass for first impressions?"

"It's a sort of rebellion against Tom, I guess." Blake admitted, and I finally understood.

"That's..."

"Fucked up? Oh, I know."

I stroked his hand softly, feeling the tension in his muscle loosen with each movement. "So that's why you hid me? You were afraid of what he'd think?"

Blake let out a loud sigh, pulling his hand back away from me. "I just.. it's been fine, I've always been fine with him telling me that. No girls interested me. They were all the same."

"But me?"

Casting a glance in my direction, he offered a smile. "You're different." That smile had me squirming on the inside because the plan was working. Mike's plan was working. He really was falling for me and falling hard. And while he offered his feelings, I just sat there and thought about how I would explain things to Mike.

I was a rotten person, from the inside and out.

In my pocket, my cell vibrated which made me jump in surprise. Blake chuckled as I scowled at him and pulled out the phone he had bought me, realizing that it wasn't a text from the band but rather an alarm I had set up for myself earlier.

It rang at precisely eight everyday, to remind me when Marco wanted me home. To make sure I was never late because we all know how that turned out.

Some part of me deflated at the thought of leaving this rundown little shack, a little haven for Blake to escape his own tilted reality, but I didn't even want to think of the consequences. My concussion was fading though it still hurt like hell.

"What's wrong?" Blake asked as he noticed my dismay.

"I have to go, Harnage." I said, sounding even displeased as I felt. Standing up, pieces of glass crunched underneath my boots as Rev rattled in the empty space. Blake looked pained, holding a hand to his arm.

Walking me to the door, I turned around just as my back hit the wood, glancing up at him. He sighed a little as our gazes locked and wouldn't disconnect. There was a spark somewhere in the air; I didn't what it was though. Uncertainty filled the cracks, and my breath caught in my throat as I noticed how close he was.

Chest to chest, he began leaning closer until I was sure he was close enough to hear my heart racing. Unsure what to do, my eyes fluttered shut as his lips nearly brushed against mine. He was hesitant, just like I was.

It was a moment of recklessness and pure adrenaline because I found myself standing on my toes and pressing my lips to his. Bewildered, it took him a few seconds to process what just happened and then he was kissing me back.

His hands roamed against my waist, unwilling to move down as if he were afraid that I wouldn't like it. My hands tangled themselves in his messy hair, drawing him closer. I wanted more. I wanted him.

He pushed me up against the door and I let out a soft moan. We kissed for a few moments longer before breaking apart for air. As I opened my eyes, they caught his emerald ones as we stared back at each other, both in our most vulnerable state.

One look at him and I knew I had solidified phase two of Mike's plan. There was no denying that he didn't like me now, as our foreheads brushed and he placed a soft kiss on my neck, wanting this moment to never end. And the guilt shot through me because I knew I was making a mistake. I knew eventually I wouldn't be able to keep up the facade and the two of us will simply crumble to the ground at the feet of our masters.

My hand found the doorknob and the rattle of the golden knob made Blake glance down. He didn't want me to leave. I didn't want to leave.

"Then stay." He whispered as I realized I had spoken aloud. And my hand slipped down from the doorknob as he tucked me closer into the safety of his arms.

—

to be edited. kickass banner on the side by Chocolov3r. this chapter is dedicated to her. c:

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stay lovely,
isabelle