Beauty and the Beast

Ryan's POV

The storm was violent, unyielding as we stood there. My heart pounded so loudly, it felt like it was trying to rip its way through my chest. Her eyes were red rimmed, her hair a slick, messy halo around her head. Silence stretched on, and on as she stood there staring at me. I fought the urge to squirm, to throw myself at her feet and beg for forgiveness as her hazel eyes narrowed dangerously at me. The anger grew and grew, steadily and with flinching might, in her gaze. The silence was killing me. My mouth must have opened a million times, just to close when nothing came out.
And she still said nothing. I thought of things I could say to her. Something that could end this quiet. There has to be something I could say, some magical word that could right the wrong, get her back, and slay all the dragons and what not. Yet, when I racked my brain, I found nothing. Nothing but a stupid, simple “I’m sorry.” And how overused and clichéd is that? I grew angry, at her, at me. More at myself though. How could I be mad at her, really? Is any of this her fault? Nope. But I could blame her stubbornness. Then there was my idiocy, my temper. Which all added to the steadily growing fury balled like a fist in the pit of my stomach. I grew angry. For no reason. A feat that seemed so familiar and normal for me, amongst all this chaos and confusion, I almost wept.
And the silence sat still, unmoving. Suddenly, she drew herself up, as high as she could. She still only came to my chin. Her mouth opened. And despite my anger, I could have sung the Hallelujah chorus. She was about to end the silence. Thank you sweet Jesus.
“You have no right--” She started to say angrily.
The fury lashed out. “I have every right--” I snapped, ashamed at myself. I don’t know why I had to do this. To say things like this. To make things just that much worse.
She fixed her cool gaze on me, and I felt my face draw tight with anger at the flinty coolness in her eyes.
“You lost the right,” She said, her voice calm, controlled. “When you treated me like that, Ryan Tier.”
Guilt slid through me, like a serrated knife, and left a path of destruction as it tore through my soul. The anger I had held onto, almost like a life saver, slipped through those jagged holes, and left only a miserable hollowness. “I know. Isabelle, I’m sorry.”
God, how freaking… pathetically inadequate that sounds. Even to my own ears it sounded… stupid. It practically rang with stupidity. Sure that she was about to smite me, or something to that nature, I stuffed my hands in my pockets, knowing full and well that in a few seconds I would start to wring them, a habit I’ve had since I was a kid. And trust me, that would be… horrifying to say the least.
She looked stunned, for about half a second. And then, without warning or preamble, her face broke out into righteous fury. And she started to scream at me. I felt the shock even as I stood there silently, torn between the urge to laugh and weep. I was leaning more towards the weeping though. Especially when I saw the tears gather in her eyes.
“Don’t you dare apologize!” She raged. I was confused. Isn’t that the very thing I should be doing? “Don’t you dare try and make me feel like the bad person. Don’t make me feel guilty. And don’t you DARE make me cry!” She was sobbing by the end, and it was like a fist to the gut seeing those tears falling down her face. I felt scum, like the worst person ever to grace the planet. I am worse than Hitler, Stalin, Pontius Pilot. Hell, they’re about as harmful as a kitten compared to my grievance.
Because nothing compares to making Isabelle cry. Nothing is worse than knowing its your fault that those tears are because of you.
I had to fix it. I needed to fix this. I can’t stand seeing her so sad. It was killing me. And with the need to renovate this mess I had made, the need for acceptance, for someone to understand me. Just one person. That’s all I needed. Well, that, and for her to stop crying. God, it was tearing me up inside seeing her like this.
“Isabelle,” I pleaded. “I am sorry,” I felt the need to repeat that. But I knew no matter how many times I would say it, it couldn’t erase what I did. “But you just need to listen--”
Her retort was quick, venomous. “Listen to you? Why the hell should I listen to you?”
As her words hung in the air she gave me one last dirty glare, and turned on her heel and started to walk into the woods. And was about to run straight into a low hanging branch. Distressed, I quickly leaped to pull the branches out of her way. She was oblivious to them. When she just barreled on, oblivious of the branches, I followed her. Pushing the branches out of her way we walked in silence.
And again the silence stretched on, beyond recognition, beyond any sense. The only sound was the lessening storm above us, the dripping of rain on the leaves, the steady patter. She turned suddenly, just a slight twist of her head, and met my gaze. And just as quickly, she turned and made me jump (I thank the Lord Almighty she didn’t see me, how embarrassing would that be?) when she spoke suddenly.
“Ryan, seriously. I don’t understand you. One minute you’re acting like… you actually want to be my… friend.. You’re actually being nice to me. And then the next…”
“I— Belle… I can’t..” I had so much to say. It all swirled around in my head, it all fought to get out of my mouth, resulting in that warbled mess. I made a note to myself to find a nice, hard wall to slam my head against after this.
“Ryan,” She said, her voice wary. “You treated me like crap.” I flinched. “Why should I treat you any differently?”
I paused, unable to think of a good explanation. Because I’m an idiot. Because I don’t think I can survive if you aren’t in my life. Because I love you. A million reasons, and all that came out was; “Because.” I gave myself a mental slap, and edited the note. Forget a wall, I’m just going to throw myself in front of a bus.
The force of her anger had me staggering back. And yet, she still marched on, destination unknown. “Because why, Ryan Tier?” She yelled into the forest. “Because you’re an asshole?” I gave her points for that. I am an asshole. “Because you don’t care about people’s feelings?” care about her feelings, and that was seriously pissing me off. “Because you think you’re so freaking better than everyone else that you can TREAT PEOPLE LIKE THAT?” Her breath was billowing in and out, her feet slammed down on the ground with vicious precision. They barely made any noise, nothing beyond a quiet “splat”.
“Isabelle, you aren’t listen--”
“Why should I listen to you?” She turned now, and stumbled. Alarmed, I reached out to steady her, but she jerked out of reach, and righted herself as she leveled a glare at me. I pulled back my hands, and stuffed them back in my pockets. Again with the burning need to wring them.
I tried again. “Because,” I kept my voice quiet, but the pleading tone was obvious. “You need to understand.”
Her glare had lessened, and something moved in her eyes. “There is nothing to understand. You’re opinion of me has already been said and comprehended--”
“No!” Came bursting out of me on its own accord. “You need to understand me.”
She faltered, clearly knocked off balance. I used this to my advantage, her confusion, her silence, and plowed on.
“I always see the worst in people.” This was as much as an explanation for her as much as a realization for me. Even as I spoke these words that had been hiding somewhere deep inside of me, the truth of them rang, and I felt some sort of acceptance, something. “Because that’s what people always do to me.”
Her face registered shock, and her mouth opened and closed a few times before shutting, and staying closed. Despite the apparent confusion, her gaze was steady, and held mine as I bared my hidden soul.
I held my breath, and at a quick glance at her, I could tell she did the same thing. The rain still dripped down on us, plastering her curls to her face. I fought the urge to push them away. She’d probably just punch me or something. And, that stupid, taunting voice that sounded a lot like Garreth said, you know damn well she’d probably just walk away. You know you’re not good enough for her.
I pushed that thought to the back of my mind. And somehow muted that freaking voice
I was mildly disgusted by the thoughts roaming around in my head. I was so unused to them and so used to angry, crude feelings. This stuff is new, foreign. And who the hell knew, that in just one day, one freaking day, that I, Ryan Tier, would fall in love.
Regaining my senses, I raised my face. Met her gaze, and felt my heart fall with a splat, at her feet. “Isabelle, I can’t help it.” My tone was apologetic, and I dimly thought of Mrs. Angela. I wonder what she would do if she actually heard me apologize, and mean it.
She’d probably die, or have heart attack. Or do a jig. For one brief, maddening moment I fought a bout of laughter at the mental image of Mrs. Angela doing the jig, and then when a raindrop landed on my face, I was brought back to reality. She waited, expectantly.
“For as long as I can remember… people have always… thought the worst in me, expected the worst… and I gave it to them… And I guess… That’s what I do to others as well… That’s what I did to you.” I stumbled over my words, praying to God that I would never have to go through this again.
But I knew, just freaking knew, that if I had to, I would experience this over and over again just so I could be with her.
“When I saw him kissing you…” I trailed off as another fist of rage slammed into me. Him kissing her. Him forcing her. Damn it.
Through my red haze, I saw her staring pointedly at my hands, and following her gaze, I realized my hands were clenched into tight fists. I raised my head, and gave her a sheepish smile. Unclenching them, I continued. “I lost it. I don’t know why, I just did. And those things I said to you…” Her face twisted up in a pained frown, and felt my heart shatter into a million of tiny, bloody pieces when she wrapped her arms around her. Jesus Christ. I, Ryan Tier, almost started sobbing at the sight of her silent, internal struggle.
How in the hell did I get here? To this very moment? How did I go from being alone, miserable, basically your typical hermit asshole, to this. How did I fall for this girl so quickly? Me? God.
She was fighting something, some unseen force. Something only she could see, something only she could feel. I watched as she drew into herself, as things warred in her eyes. More guilt piled on the already dangerously growing pile. And when she paled, and then flushed, I listened with mild annoyance as my mouth opened up and words came out before I could sensor them. I really, really need to invest in a good mouth filter.
“And I know I don’t deserve for you to stay with me. I’ve been telling myself not to beg… not to throw myself on the ground… Not that I would.” I looked at the muddy concoction that had become the forest floor. It was wet, squishy, and had bugs and all other disgusting crawly things that would probably push me into disgracing myself and screaming like a little girl. “All I know is, I didn’t want you to leave to go to Japan still thinking that I…” I stopped when confusion twisted her face.
Damn it. She held up a hand, and so I stood there, hair dripping in my face, my shirt sticking to my chest, my feet sinking into the disgusting mud, and waited as she stood still. Emotions played over her face in a racing symphony. Confusion. Understanding. Anger. Relief. More anger. Her eyes glazed over, and I waited.
The forest grew still as well, as if it understood her need for quiet. I swear to God, I almost pissed myself waiting for her to move. She just stood there, as the seconds flew by, and unable to stop myself, I spoke.
“Isabelle, you’re really killing me here.” Her eyes cleared, and for one second, her eyes met mine. And then, she gave me a wild, crazed look and threw herself on the ground, on the disgusting, muddy ground, and laughed her head off.
Her laughter was like a million angels singing at once. It rang through the forest, echoing. It washed over me like cleansing water, and I felt lighter, if not more confused then I did two seconds ago.
“Um. Isabelle?” I asked after a few seconds had passed and she made no move to stop.
She was rolling around now, and mud covered her from head to foot. I briefly wondered how she was going to explain this to people when the sneaky girl snaked a wrist around my ankle and yanked hard. I pitched forward and landed face first in the mud.
I suppressed a disgusted shudder as I lifted my head and felt the sludge sliding down my face.
It was seeping under my shirt, into my shoes, into my boxers. I felt an uncomfortable squishiness, in a very unconventional, personal place when I pushed myself up. God. My fingers squished into the mud as I met her laughing gaze.
“What the hell?” I said, unable to suppress the tone of anger. I hate mud. I hate getting dirty, sticky, and her little stunt was just icing on the cake.
“You look like you needed some good mud time.” She said, splashing some more mud on me. As if I needed more.
“Isabelle--” I warned.
Her eyes glinted, with challenge, with humor, but thankfully she stopped. “OK. Well. I guess we should talk about--”
“Listen, I understand that you’re leaving. I know that you deserve to be happy and--- good God, woman, I swear to God. You throw that mud ball at me, and you are so dead.” I was growling, and trying to slid myself away from her and her evil mud obsession. She had grabbed and handful of mud, and had this look in her eyes that made me want to whimper.
“Don’t pull that crap with me then. And let me finish before you go on a tirade.” Hell, I would have danced to Soulja Boy naked and covered in pink feathers if it would make her put the mud ball down.
“OK. Now, listen.” She said. I settled myself somewhat in the mud, and kept my mouth closed.
“I’m not going to Japan--”
“But Maurice said you were…” When she lifted up another handful of mud, I slammed my mouth shut.
“He lied.”
“What the hell--- JESUS CHRIST BELLE!” I shouted as a ball of mud smashed into my face, sending little drops of mud all over my body. My face got the brunt of it, and I frantically spit out mud. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Just do it after I finish.” She laughed. Laughed! Jesus. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to wring her neck or kiss her. “Right. Now. He lied. I think. He played us, kind of.”
Kind of played us? I don’t know if I liked the sound of that.
“To keep things short and sweet, I’m staying. I’m still going to be your tutor, and if it’s OK with you, I’m still going to stay with you…”
My body was frozen, numb. And then it felt like a million needles were assaulting my skin as her words sank in. She wasn’t going away. She was staying.
Something resembling happiness swelled inside of me, something foreign, new. Something I really could get used to feeling.
“Ryan?” She said, her voice unsure. “It is OK if I still stay with you, right?”
I gave her a smile, and dug my hands into the mud, ignoring the internal scream of protest, and grabbed a handful. “Oh, yeah.” I said, and threw the handful of mud into her face.
She screamed as the mud coursed down her face in muddy rivulets.
I laughed. A real, straight-from-the-gut laugh. It felt nice, it felt right to be here laughing at this girl. It felt normal.
Too late to realize my mistake when she launched herself at me. Catching her in mid air, we landed on the ground, her on top of me, and so the struggle ensued.
We soon became breathless with laughter as we wrestled in the mud. I tried not to hurt her, a fact she took advantage of as she tickled me without mercy.
I tried valiantly to suppress the giggles that wanted to explode out of me. Quickly, I rolled over, holding her in my arms as I did. I was still laughing when I realized that our faces were inches apart.
Mere inches.
I stopped laughing. She was staring at me. I could count the number of golden flecks in her eyes, I could see the muddy droplets clinging to her eyelashes. And as if a magnet were pulling us together, I lowered my mouth to hers. But before our lips could touch, a voice had us both freezing.
“Hey, why are you guys lying in the mud?” I jerked off her, weeping on the inside, when Maurice’s voice cut through our little bubble of privacy. I flushed as first confusion, then knowledge crossed over his face.
Damn it. I’m going to kick that kids ass one of these days.
“What were you guys doing?” He said in a singsong voice. “Did my plan work?” So, Isabelle was right. He played us. I couldn't help but feel grateful for the guy for that. But the fact that I was so close to kissing her, damn it. I wanted to punch him.
I mean, seriously, it was a gift from God that the girl even talks to me, but to be that close to... I'm just not going to think about it.
Isabelle giggled and I growled as he gave us a lascivious grin. I went to stand up, to do God knows what, she grabbed my hand, and yanked me back down. I gave her a questioning look, as I sat back down. She gave the mud a pointed look, then the still grinning Maurice. She kept looking back and forth, until slowly it dawned on me what she was trying to signal. I nodded as Belle and I met gazes, a silent agreement formulated in our eyes. And giving Maurice big, wide smiles, we grabbed a handful of mud, and threw it in his face.