This is a new low in my life, I decide as I'm sitting at the foot of an old maplewood table, my back up against the cabriole legs of the table. I'm spending my free time on a Tuesday on a Twilight marathon projecting off a floor-length flatscreen. How have I become this desperate? 

At least Athan is next to me. I have never seen someone roll their eyes this much, especially towards a movie. Not even I roll my eyes this much at something I deplore. I then bring my lips to his ear and blow a soft wist. "Feel like ditching the cinema?" 

"Cha," Athan remarks. We crawl out from the table, and he grabs my hands while he helps me to my feet. As we exit into the hallway, he continues. "So, I'm thinking we could sneak into the soundroom and listen to only the greatest musical written in American history." 

"What's it about?" I will admit, I've never been that familiar with current "Broadway musicals." I've heard of a lot of traditional Broadway musicals, but what's on it as of the moment, I have no idea. 

"American history," he answers. With a look turning away, he jams his fists into the pocket of his jeans.

"Please tell me they haven't made Forrest Gump into a musical," I say in an exhaling sigh. "I already saw enough of that when you brought that in as your 20th Century Human Studies Project." 

"No," Athan says. We're nearly to the door of the sound room on the second floor. "This two hundred forty years before today." 

I do the math in my head, mouthing a long my work. When I figure the year out, I face Athan once again as we reach the door. "So, seventeen seventy six? And if this is a historical fiction musical, what year does this play end?" 

"I estimate around the late eighteen forties," Athan replies, "early eighteen-fifties." He gets his hand on knob. He turns the knob and pushes the door open with a triumphant fanfare. As he leads me inside the small dark room with speakers all over the walls. "Beatrice,  we're gonna listen to my favorite musical of all time - Hamilton." I cannot deny how convincing he seems with his jazz hands.  

Typing some words onto the now ever so bright computer screen, music starts playing through the speakers all through the room. The hip-hop, rap music fills my head. I'm twirling around and accidentally hit the office chair down to the floor. I don't care. Meanwhile, Athan rolls his eyes in amusement. 

In the chorus, we pretend we're the singer and introduce ourselves in the same format. We sing the refrain together, our eyes not unlocking. I then collapse into his arms laughing and he pushes me back onto my feet. 

Song after song goes by until we're halfway through the first act. Athan pauses the music and I give him a stern look. My voice projects. "I was actually enjoying that." 

"Sorry," he murmurs softly and looks down at the ground at his shoes. It occurs to me - why does he usually seem to playing coy? "I just wanted to show you a technique Minerva taught me." I notice how his lips tighten when he mutters his or her name.

In the darkness of the lightless room, I can hear him composing his breath as he breaks out of his stillness. He goes on. "It's called musical meditation." He turns the computer screen back on and I can see his soft face. "You just sit down and let the music speak to you. It helps me calm down when I miss her." 

So, Minerva is a girl. An ex-girlfriend, maybe? I want to ask, but his eyes seem so down I dare not bring it up. I follow his instructions and sit down, crossing my legs into a pretzel. I squeeze my eyes shut and a tender pop ballad fills the room. It's an emotional soliloquy sung over a soft piano melody with dancehall reggae influences. The weird claps stand out to me the most. 

I see my mother. She's even more gorgeous than I imagined. She bears a stunning pixie cut of clove-brown hair along with the yellow dress that outlines her figure. Her eyes light up brighter than the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Her smile reaches the ends of the world. I can still remember that smile from my earliest memories. 

As her image fades away, my father appears. If not for the dimples, I could've mistaken Dad for Kyran. Kyran has no dimples - I inherited Dad's dimples. His arms are open to a hug of the whole world. He looks happy to see me. 

His image is replaced by Eileene. The day she walked into our house for the first time - so full of curiosity and adventure. Her brown hair is whisked back behind her shoulders and she looks at Kyran with irrevocable love for Kyran in her eyes. She reminded me so much of my mother at the time, I couldn't stand the idea of her being the one for my brother. 

I open my eyes as the song comes to its closure. Tears drown my eyes as I reflect on four years of torturing Eileene. I feel Athan's arm on my shoulder as he sits down next to me. His voice whispers into my ear, "It's never too late to fix things." His lips plant a soft kiss on my cheek. 

I rise to my feet and break into a run out the door to the screen room where Kyran, Eileene, Aurelia, Calamity, Caleb and Maxwell are watching the Twilight marathon. I don't even care if this is cinema, I shout as loud as my lungs will allow, "Eileene!" 

Eileene turns around to meet my eyes. Eyes wider than the world itself, she rises from her seat in the blink of an eye and following me outside into the hallway. When I'm sure her and I are alone, I bring her in for a hug. 

"Betrys, why are you hugging me," Eileene breaks in. The staggering of her voice is weary, but it's hard to even realize when I'm in the zone. 

"I've deplored you for all the wrong reasons," I tell her. The sensation of the hug rushes down my veins. I then feel her respond with her arms reaching my shoulder blades. "Never once have I told you that I'm lucky to have you as an in-law."  

"B." Her voice caresses my neck in a whisper. For a moment, I'm a helpless child once again. The little girl who would crawl into Sabia's lap upon hearing the sound of thunder crashing throughout the neighborhood. Everything comes falling down that moment. "It's okay. All is forgiven." 

As she pulls away and heads back into the screening room, I just stand there and watch as she returns to her movie. Have I really brought our four-year running dispute to its fading closure? Apparently I have, and to be honest - I don't mind it. 

I return back to the soundroom to see a feverish Athan there, waiting for me. I plop down next to him under the desk with a smile. I reach to turn the music on, which begins yet another dark-toned hip-hop song. The song may not be the perfect mood music, but I will take what I can get. With a second of chance, my face is cupped in his hand, and my hands are rushing through the thick locks that he calls his hair. 

"Athan," I almost coo the whole breath as I'm staring at him in the face. His smile seems to dominate the entire room. Although, my lips aren't on each other yet, it feels as if we already are. I get lost and I can't find my way out. 

"Yes," his voice echoes how I sound. I feel a warmth at the top of my chest as I look at him. 

I pull away and push my back up against the foot of the desk we're under. I contemplate long and hard as I figure out what I originally wanted to ask. "Do you miss home?"

I notice his long stare not once breaking into a blink as his eyes widen with horror. I know people can be sensitive on certain topics but home is usually not one of them. Then again, I come from a town that's basically a giant prison, so what do I know? 

"I'm not sure I'm ready to reveal that story," he murmurs to himself. He fiddles around with his knuckle and the lit up screen overhead fades to complete darkness. I feel my nose suck my breath in as I wait for a sound, one glimpse of hope that this awkward moment won't last very long.

"B." The trembling sound of Keanna's voice sends me into high alert. The shakiness in the back of her throat is enough to send me into a rush of questions. I look away to meet her dark silhouette. "Betrys, can I talk to you for a minute? This is really important." 

"Sure," I say. With a grunt, I pull myself out from under the desk. My feet wake up with a few wobbles and I'm stumbling outside. I lean up against one of the cream walls for support. Meanwhile, Keanna paces around in circles and plays with a single curl. 

Without any forewarning, she finally comes clean with what she wants to tell me. "At the end of the week, they're stationing me out to Buffalo." 

~

BAM! What! Yup, I just did that. Also, I did promise you an exceedingly awesome level of gifs, so without further ado, I give you the most awesome gifs ever (YES, THIS IS A GIFMANIA) : 

Yes, I have an obsession with this play.

If you liked this chapter, don't forget to vote and comment. I'd really appreciate it. Thanks. 

X Shay X