Higher, Faster, Stronger

The wind was whipping past now, to the point of getting tears in my eyes.

Derek turned to me guiltily, with a look of death pinned on his face.

"I've failed again."

It was shocking really. In fact, I couldn't actually tell what he was talking about.

"What?" All those confused out of their minds, raise your hands? Thought so.

"Don't make me say it again." I'm trying to think of it from his perspective…and I keep failing. What on earth?

"I don't understand. I don't think you've failed at anything." I tried to reach for his hand but he moved away. Rejected and slightly annoyed, I bunched up my sleeves to protect my purpling hands from the cold. Existential crisis's always have to happen when it feels like 30 below zero, don't they?

"Anyone I've ever cared about always gets hurt and I'm never of any use. I don't have any family now because I was too stupid to run and get help."

The white of his knuckles was evident now. I didn't know how he wasn't freezing. Then again, boys seem to be a walking radiator don't they?

"Um. Please refresh my memory but wasn't it Al….your brother's fault?"

He sighed again, with a fresh bout of hate in his eyes.

"Derek, they were probably gone by the time you got there. I'm not sure there was much you could do." I spoke delicately. I didn't want to sound crude or disrespectful. He was volatile, more so than I've ever seen him. It seemed like it had been a tough year for him.

It was Monday. Doctor said at least a day of rest and nothing contact for a while. Like at least a month. Derek seemed to have bunked. I don't blame him.

He wasn't moving at all.

"Who didn't you protect Derek?" I spoke softly. Men are like deer sometimes. Loud noises scare them off.

He got up abruptly, as if to leave. He paced for a minute and turned around.

"YOU!" he roared. I stayed calm, if he saw me react badly, he'd feel worse.

"You think it's your fault I got hurt? I shouldn't have played the last quarter. It was my own fault. I didn't take care of myself. That wasn't your responsibility. You were far enough from me. It was a psycho with a vendetta." I tried to stay soothing. He kept pacing.

"I blacked out from a concussion and because my ribs broke. There was nothing you could have done.." He cut me off.

"Exactly! There was nothing I could have done to stop you from getting hurt. It's my fault. And it's my fault she's dead!" He was yelling. I'm not sure if he was crying. This was the angriest I'd ever seen him up till now. I was scared. Who knew what he was going to do?

"Why do you keep blaming yourself?"

"Because I was there! I was on my way home. No one was around. I ran to my house and he was standing over them. Two shots each to the chest. Their throats were cut. Mom, she was still ALIVE. He was laughing. Like a maniac, he was laughing. Told me to run, or he'd kill me. I ran, like a child I ran. He just knocked me out." He was nearly hyperventilating now. "I SAW MY MOTHER DIE IN FRONT OF ME."

He was on a roll now. I just sat back down, frozen.

"The exact cause of death wasn't the bullet wounds. And they all died. Here I am now. I'm 17, a millionaire and completely alone. All because I was frozen in fear. Then yesterday, another psycho tries to take something else from me. Why? Because I couldn't protect you, like her."

He sat down next to me and rested his face in his hands.

"I've completely failed. Again."

I was in a mild state of shock and so decided to contemplate my next words carefully.

"Derek, what do you remember of your mother?"

He glanced at me, an animal look in his eye, trying to decide to take me seriously or not.

"She was kind. Beautiful. Gentle."

"I don't think she'd want you to live like this. With all this rage and hate. Don't you think your mother would want you to live on for her?"

He kind of glared at me. I don't think that way was working. Take two.

"If you failed, then how am I still alive? If you failed, how am I okay?"

"You're not okay, you're broken." He almost seemed like he was whining.

"And I'll heal. With time. I'm not dead. You didn't fail."

Gingerly, I gathered his head into my shoulder. I thought he was going to push me away. If he did, I wouldn't have let go. Even if it hurt me.

Huh, he wasn't crying. Or it seemed like he was, he was going through the motions of sobbing. But there were no tears. Actually, I'm pretty sure he was just going through a stage of hyperventilation.

I felt exhausted and sick. I'm sure he felt the same. Only worse. Much worse.

He had been much more moody since he moved back into the Thompson manor. Originally he had lived in an apartment nearby so he could keep it up. But a few weeks ago he decided to move back in to his house. Nate and I helped with his stuff. The land was paid for years ago so he decided to move back in, keep it up, make it look like it's old self.

Unfortunately it seemed like he was having a memory backlash.

"Derek what are you going to do?" I abandoned the therapist tone and opted for a more practical one. I can't stand this.

"About?"

"Going around thinking that you're the worst person on earth, responsible for everything. Look, I'm freezing now. You're coming back home with me. I can't leave you like this and if another hour passes, we're going to be welded frozen to this bench."

Not to mention my pain meds are wearing off. And I was in more physical pain than he was.

I cradled his face in my freezing hands. He was still warm though his eyes looked dead.

"You're coming back with me." I repeated. I pulled him towards the main house and opened the door. Then I realized that I had a stupid moment. I'd never even been here before.

"Okay. You lead." He sighed with a glimmer of a smile on his face. I followed him through his enormous house. Holy crap. This place would intimidate the Taj Mahal. Heck, you can level that up to the Great Wall of China, only dissected into about 50 pieces and stacked. Yeah, that made no sense at all.

I got to his room. It was about the size of my kitchen with half of my bathroom added on. It was very simple though, relatively neat but with an unmade bed. Typical boy.

He pulled down a duffel from his closet and filled it with clothes.

"And when, may I ask, will I be back?" He shot lightly at me.

"Whenever I feel you're in good enough psychological health. And besides, I need a math tutor." Both parts were true but math was kicking my fanny.

"Hell of a year so far and it's not even December." I commented casually. He frowned, pulling out a sweatshirt. "How do you figure?" I started to tick off the reasons on my fingers.

"I create a district upset by being allowed to play, you hated me. More people in school hated me. Then a nutso writer with a feminist agenda and a pole stuck in her behind tries to somehow call me out. You hated me slightly less. The doping scandal with the other players. I hurt my ribs twice and the second time is knocked unconscious by a red haired psychopath with needs a padded cell." I paused. "Did I forget anything?"

"Probably." I rolled my eyes. "Gee thanks."

"Tell me why you're kidnapping me again?" I raised an eyebrow. He must think he's joking if he's going to push himself over the edge on my watch.

"Because you just ranted your way into emotional exhaustion and I'm tired. You, however are driving. I walked here and it's way too cold to walk back." As he packed up, I placed an overdue phone call.

Now, my mom is cool with many things but this took a bit of explaining. In short terms, she didn't want any babies produced on her watch. I told her it was until he seemed better emotionally. My mother, having met him and his frigid appearances, asked me how it was possible to gauge that. She agreed as long as our rooms are the furthest away that she could handle. In actuality, she was thrilled at the chance of being able to fatten up someone. Not that that could ever happen to either of us, our metabolism's are too insanely fast. Mom, however, thinks the world is too skinny.

And so, Derek came to live at my house for no less than a week's time.

When I got home, I went walking stiffly for my pain meds and my heating pad. 6 hours is hardly enough. Mom must have noticed I was in pain so she forced me to sit on the couch for the time being. Meanwhile, Derek settled into the guest room.

I honestly wondered how he would sleep. I can't sleep in foreign places and he's always said he never needs much sleep. See, is that because of some sort of weird training or insomnia, or nightmares? I would never ask him. Why? A little too personal for my tastes.

Mom was delighted to have someone to cook for besides me, as predicted. She whipped up a feast, later settling down to work.

Derek and I were left. We had missed a day of school each, and for me, it was doctor's orders that I rest for a few days. I planned to go back on Wednesday or Thursday. The good thing was, I had a pass out of gym for the next month or so. Score 1 for me.

Derek was silent, as normal. To call it uncharacteristically quiet would be a gross understatement of his natural self.

At 10, I entered the guest room. He was awake and still dressed and reading. At the sound of the door, he looked up quickly.

"Hey." I call softly. He gave me a nod to come in.

The room we have for guests is pretty simple. A bed in the far corner with a window near it. There's a bookshelf and it's the closest room to the bathroom.

"I hope you like it in here, it's not exactly a palace. The knob to adjust the heat is near the bookshelf. I'll be sure to give you some towels if you want to bathe later."

Silence. That was almost to be expected. I went to leave when he stopped me.

"Why didn't you drop me off at the idiot's?"

"Nate can hardly take care of himself," I laughed. He gave me a 'be serious' look.

"Honestly? I cared too much to leave you alone."

I couldn't read his expression though my heart was going a thousand miles per hour. Honestly, that's the most we've gotten to 'expressing feelings' and because neither of us are that sappy, that probably wouldn't happen for a long time.

I turned and left. My cheeks heated up like an oven, anyone got any eggs? We could have fried them on my face.

I laid down on my bed and my thoughts kept replaying themselves over and over. He was scared. He was angry. When he had calmed down, the look in his eyes. He has gorgeous eyes. But I seldom see more than negative emotion in them. Sadness, anger…he defines himself by those.

At two, I woke up to go to the bathroom. After I was done there, I opened the room to the guestroom a crack. He was sleeping. It was more than I expected, after what had happened today. He was wearing a typical long pair of shorts but heaven smiled on me. He wasn't sporting a shirt.

The moonlight was shining, casting shadows on his already pale skin. I swear if I was a dog, I would have started salivating. He was gorgeous, if a jerk sometimes. If only his fangirls could see him now. No, scratch that. I'd have to kill them all. And mindless slaughter takes too much energy. My thoughts shifted back.

Such a contrast. Black hair, dramatically white skin and well formed muscle basically everywhere.

You know it's bad when your boyfriend is prettier than you are. Hey, at least I acknowledge it. Some girls are in denial. It only ends in suffering either way.

I closed the door back up, walked back to my room and laid back down in my bed. For the second time in hours, he was making my heart pulse. I tried to think of counting sheep and went back to sleep with a smile on my face.

It was 10 when I woke up in the morning. I probably could have slept in longer but rain was falling on my windowsill. It took a minute of laying in bed, but then I heard it. It was a soft sound, of tinkling keys. Our piano was being played.

Chopin's Nocture in G minor. The song ended as I sat at the top of the stairs listening. It couldn't have been Mom, she was at work. I just didn't want him to stop. I never actually knew Derek had a musical background. He had never made any inclination that he knew music at all.

An unfamiliar song started. It was haunting to be sure. Lovely and haunting. It reminded me of a lullaby. Sweet, soft and comforting. He played no wrong note or sound. I quietly made my way down the stairs and turned to get into the room with the piano in it.

He was seated there, looking at the space where the music should have been.

He looked up when he heard me but kept playing until it was done, ending in a low C.

He moved to allow me to sit down. He must have assumed that I was going to play something. Instead I just rested my head on his shoulder. Eventually, he put his head down onto mine. We sat like that for a while.

We spent the day near the piano and playing board games and such.

It was a good day.