Stalking Bunnies [Rumple]

I couldn't keep my mind off of it. The terror I had felt when I heard the mayor call out my name to go off and be killed was still haunting me. Hell, I wasn't even in the Games and I was traumatized. I couldn't even remember the name of the guy who volunteered for me; I couldn't bring myself to watch the Games, and I did my best to ignore it when Uncle had it on in the Tavern. It's required to be watched, you know. But for people like me, I didn't want anything to do with it. My brain was already fragile as it was, I didn't need anymore violence to make me just go berserk. I did watch it a year ago, but after seeing nearly every tribute get a limb severed off and one of them eating their own hand, I couldn't take it. I know I'm weak willed and in no way able to stand gore unless it's involved with cooking. Carving up a deer carcass was okay, but seeing people cut off hands or legs just made my stomach churn. Most of the kitchen staff didn't taunt me about it, but there was always the few who picked on me because of it. Not like I could do anything about it, so...

"Gavroche!"

My hand jerked involuntarily, pulling on the hammer and creating a loud "crack" as the two back prongs tore off a large chunk of old wood from the side of the house. Oh great. I stared at the gaping hole in the wall before turning to see my uncle looking at me from the corner of the tavern. "Why don't you head inside? It's cold and you've been out here for a long time." I glanced back at the hole. "Er... yeah, I'll be in in a minute. Gotta... gotta fix this..." Uncle disappeared around the corner, leaving me to my business. I needed to fix the hole since I could see all the way through into the storage room. It wouldn't do any good to nail wood on the outside, so I would have to do it from the inside.

Taking the hammer with me, I went back around toward the front, passing a window and catching Lise talking to someone out of the corner of my eye. Pausing, I discretely peered through the glass, observing the guy. He appeared to be about my age and he was doing something because I noticed Lise's face turning red. A few words were exchanged and they shook hands.

A pang of unknown feelings hit me. I don't know how to describe it; it was like I didn't like the guy, but I had no reason to. He hadn't done anything to me, but I just didn't like him. My gaze shot between her and him, but I focused mostly on him. What was I even doing? I shook my head, continuing on and opening the front door, feeling horribly awkward for intruding on their conversation with the squeaky hinges. I needed to fix that. "Sorry..." I muttered, ducking my head and quickly going back behind the counter, searching for a plank of wood I could use to patch up the hole. "Sorry if it gets cold. I managed to put a hole in the side of the tavern."

I smile at Lise, deciding to not really pay any attention to that other guy she was talking to. Given my circumstance, it’s a given that I don’t really enjoy getting to meet new people. Even meeting Uncle for the first time was hard; he kept trying to come toward me and I kept running away, hiding in any little space I could find. Eventually he caught on, though, and I soon opened up to him, so he quickly understood and realized that I needed my space. And that’s stayed with me. I don’t get near people and when the tavern’s crowded, my nerves get all strung out and I get anxious, so I’m forced to just leave the room and either go up to my room or out back, where I’ve made a habit of peeling potatoes when I’m moody or scared. Heh. That had always been Uncle’s solution to my anxiety issues: “Well, if you want to be alone and still get work done, go out back and peel potatoes.” And despite the thousands of potatoes I’ve skinned, I still love to eat them.

”Oh, yeah… the outside needed some work done.” I say a few moments after she pauses, but there’s something about the look she gives at the guy behind her… what was it? I don’t know, I can’t tell. I take in a small breath to ask her what’s wrong, but she answers that for me before I can get a single word out. The sun. ”Oh. Don’t worry about it.” I offer her a small smile and give a dismissive wave of my hand. I’m not going to force her into facing her fears just yet. That would come later. She’s already helped me start to get over my claustrophobia, and I want to help her with her fear of the sun, but at her own pace.

My eyes turn over to this Jason guy. He seems friendly enough, but as soon as he extends his hand, I feel my face go pale. Oh goodness no – I can’t. I can’t. Funny how a little thing like a handshake can scare me to death. No one else has this fear but me. It’s stupid, it’s really stupid, but I’m frozen in fear of the concept of having to touch his hand. Luckily Lise is there to save me, taking up his hand and saying that it was large and stuff like that. I discretely exhale, releasing a puff of air that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. Once again I feel utterly stupid. Jason must think I’m a freak, being terrified by a simple act of kindness. But if that’s the case, then a lot of other people must think the s—hold on. My blue-green eyes turn to zero in on Jason. Did he just call Lise beautiful? Don’t get me wrong, Lise really is lovely; red hair, blue eyes, and a smile that compliments everything about her. But this guy’s a stranger – he doesn’t know her. What gives him the right to just come right out and say that? You don’t just tell random people what you think about them as a whole. I didn’t mention anything about Jason the moment I saw him – “Oh, Jason, you’re hideous inside and out.” No, you just don’t do that.

And then he throws me off big time. Me and Lise? Dating? The thought strikes me as so odd and foreign that I’m speechless. You don’t date friends – right? I mean, friends are friends. You have people that are friends and you have people that are “lovers,” and friends aren’t lovers. ”I…” I can’t even find words, my thoughts are all a mess. But if friends aren’t meant to be more than that, then why do I find Lise so beautiful? Even in clothes that didn’t fit her, I still would watch her as she moved as if I were seeing a human being in action for the first time. Like when you see a wild animal, like a deer, out in the wilderness. All you do is watch and admire them from a distance. Not that Lise’s some kind of animal, goodness no – she’s my friend. My only friend, that is. I just…. I don’t even know. My emotions are in such a whirlwind that I don’t know what to discern. ”… no?” The question tone in my voice is obvious and I look to Lise for help. Hell, I don’t even know exactly what “dating”means aside from “going out with someone you like.” Going out where? I feel heat rising to my face out of embarrassment so I avert my eyes to the dark floorboards nearby, trying to keep my face hidden from Jason.

Once again she’s there to carry me on through my inability to fully function in society. You’d think that I’d know all these slang terms like “dating” and “going out,” but sadly I don’t. And that’s the reason I always get stuck in awkward situations like this, desperately hoping that the other person is excellent at reading facial expressions and is willing to answer for me. She says that we’re not dating, but we’re just really good friends. Oh, good. So what we’ve been doing is something that really good friends would do and not the “dating” people. Once again I breathed out from holding my breath, giving a few nods in agreement to her. I don’t know what those people do.

When I feel that my face has returned to its normal color, I risk a glance up at Jason, seeing him looking between Lise and me. He also says that it’s a good thing we’re not dating. Strange. Then he asks her – a bold and bodacious move on his account – if she would like to go out sometime. My facial expression remains the same, but my mind is going crazy. What did this mean? He doesn’t even give her a chance to answer before getting up and sauntering off, my eyes following him out the door.

… what. What? My grip tightens on the hammer that I’m holding in my hand. So Jason was going to come back and take her somewhere – I guess that’s what “going out” means. Taking someone somewhere. Well, that would make sense. But that’s all besides the point. The point is that Jason is going to be taking Lise somewhere, and to be honest, I don’t want her to go. I can’t explain why I feel this way, but it’s a strange sense of protection toward her. What if he hurt her? Well, I can always beat him to death with this hammer. I glance down at the hammer in my hand; but could I really do it? No, I certainly couldn’t. I’m the most submissive guy I know, there’s no way in hell I could actually kill someone. ”Weird, yeah. That’s for sure.” I look back up and over at her, watching as she plays with the tips of her hair. ”I don’t know if I believe him.” I shrug. He sort of seemed like a shady person; I mean, he didn’t even give her a chance to answer his question. I set the hammer on the bar, deciding to put off my search for the wood to patch up the hole until later. ”So is that what ‘going out’ means? Picking someone up?”

With a sudden realization that she's never been out with anyone, she latches onto my arm. Usually I'd jerk away and fling myself back, doing anything and everything within my power to get away, but I'm happy to say that I think I'm getting used to being close to people. Sure, crowded rooms are still the bane of my existence, but lately I've been less... anxious. Maybe this is the effect of having a close friend, and if it is, then I like it. A lot. "There's a first time for everything." I say, giving her a reassuring smile, but it fades as it soon dawns on me that I don't know anything to say to help her. "Well... er... if it were me asking you, I'd just want you to come as yourself..." I feel heat rising to my cheeks and I glance away, shrugging. "But I have no idea." I look back at her and what she's wearing: one of my shirts and a pair of my jeans. Both those clothing articles fit me fine, but they did little justice to Lise's body.

Lise's question kind of freaks me out, to be honest. Her father is terrifying and intimidating. When I stood up against him that other day, even with a knife in my hand, I was nearly certain that he was going to slaughter me. Well, maybe her father wouldn't be home; and I'm not gonna turn Lise down, so I need to man up and face my fears. "Sure," I answer, forcing the smile back onto my face. A short, dry laugh escapes from me. "You and me both. I would swear that I was going to die that other day." I try to keep the conversation light, but the more I think about that eventful day, the more I'm aware of the small, growing fear inside of me. But I wasn't going to be alone; Lise and I would be together to face him if he tries anything.

I have no idea who she’s referring to when she says that “he” is probably sleeping. Surely she can’t mean Uncle because he’s already up, so I’m left to wonder who she means. Lise then takes my hand – which I’m much more comfortable with now, but hugs still not so much – and she pulls me toward the door, but stops before passing through a beam of sunlight coming in through the window. I look from the sunlight to her, still not entirely sure why she still was afraid of sunlight. It’s natural and invisible, but hey, I’m not one to talk. I have irrational fears too – I can’t even hold her hand without feeling nervous. Oh well. She lets go of my hand and pulls her red hair free, and I can’t help but watch – in a completely non-creepy way, of course.

The paleness of her skin made the color of her hair seem more red than it probably was. I can’t see her eyes from where I’m standing, but from when I’ve seen them before, I know that they, in my opinion, fit well with her red hair. Are friends even allowed to think this about their friends? I really do think she’s pretty, even with the fangs. But no, I’m a friend, not a lover. I don’t think these kinds of things.

I give my head a light shake to chase the thoughts away as Lise comes back over to me, all covered up to go out in the sun. I can hear the fear in her voice and my eyes carry their gaze over to the window. The sun’s blazing bright and the tree branches are swaying in a light breeze, but other than the trees, there’s really no sort of shelter for her. She goes over and opens the door, stopping before going out. ”I don’t think I can do this.” I come up behind her and lightly take her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. ”You can do it. I’ll be right here the whole time.” I try to sound confident, but I hate seeing people panic. Panic, to me, is very infectious, so if I see someone else panicking then I start panicking. But I try to be strong for her; I know that this is hard for her, and like she’s been there for me, I want to be there for her. So, upon taking a leap of faith, I step out in front of her through the door, lightly pulling her outside behind me.

She's got an iron-tight grip on my hand and I swear that I hear my bones breaking, but I think it's just my imagination running rampant. Maybe it's just my fear acting up. I'm known for getting scared just because other people are scared, so I bet that's why. I'm sensing Lise's fear and just latching onto it. I'm so used to fear that it's as easy as being happy, if that makes sense.

I smile when she proclaims that she's alright. "'course you are," I say. "I wouldn't have dragged you out here if I didn't think it was safe." Okay, I lied. If there was a raging bear outside the tavern, I'd lock Lise out to appease the beast. Nah, I'm kidding. I don't ever do anything unless I know it's safe, so I wouldn't drag her into anything unless it was safe. She never forced me into any terrifying situations - aside from when she fell out the window and hugged me for the first time - and that time her father came and I faced him, even though that wasn't forcing me to do something - but eh.

It's a beautiful day, really. I don't quite understand how she can be so afraid of the sunlight, but then again, why am I so scared of human contact? To each their own, I guess. I've been sunburned before and I know it hurts, but it heals. Maybe she's one of those people that burn really easily, and so that's why she's scared. It's the only thing that really makes sense to me, so I stick with it. Things are fine now, and I don't want to jinx it. She's just a gait below breakneck speed and dragging me along; it's hard to keep up, but I manage.

A light breeze.

Lise comes to such a sudden halt that I nearly run into her from behind. "Sheesh, that was close." I murmur to no one in particular, taking a step back to give each of us our personal space. I'm about to say something else when Lise starts screaming. The sudden ear-splitting shriek causes me to jump, a quick wave of panic going over me. I exhale sharply, gathering my wits again. Oh, wow, that was certainly startling.

"Lise, what's w-" She turns and then puts her face on my chest. I feel my skin burning under her touch, even beneath my shirt, but I can't just back away from her. And even if I wanted to, I couldn't. She lifts up my shirt and crawls up under it.

....

My brain can't even comprehend it. This is too much skin-on-skin for me. I feel my face turning a thousand and one different shades of red and I stumble back a few steps from the sudden weight latching onto my front. My arms are held out awkwardly to each side. What do I do? I can't even think straight. What is she doing? Does she really think that hiding underneath my shirt will protect her. "Lise-" I begin, my voice shaking with embarrassment, but I can't finish it. I don't even know what to say and where to begin. "Um.."

Okay, so as much as I like Lise as a friend, I can't stand this. I thought I was somewhat over being scared of someone's touch, but I was wrong. Oh so wrong.

In a spur of fright, since I didn't really want to just shove her down to the ground like some wrestler, I just tear my shirt off completely and jump back as soon as I'm free. My hands try to pull the shirt back over my head, but it's an awkward and hard process because they've started shaking like a leaf in the wind.

She screams two words at me and they sting: the sun. Then she dives for the hat and leans back in the shade of a brick wall. I feel bad for what I did, but what could I do? I act on impulse and fear. It's instinct, right? Fight or flight, and I just happened to choose flight.

I approach her, stopping a few feet away, unable to make eye contact with her and feeling my face turning red. I rub the back of my neck with one hand. "Sorry about that..." I say, though I'm only really half sorry, I guess. I'm sorry that I forced her to face her fear, but I was terrified for myself. "I just... panicked." I shrug, letting my hand fall back down by my side.