Page 121 of Equilibrium
“I’m going to kick his ass if he doesn’t wake up,” Indigo murmured. “I really will. Who else is going to beat my ass in billiards if he doesn’t wake up?”
Denial was such a beautiful thing, given to us humans as a shield when we couldn’t deal with the reality of the situation, and Indigo was cloaked in it, denying that the worry he felt had anything to do with his feelings for Atlas. I didn’t notice it before, but I could see it now.
The way they always bickered, the way Atlas seemed to follow him everywhere, the way Indigo’s gaze would linger on Atlas a little bit longer than necessary, it was all there. They just didn’t want to admit it to each other, which was a real shame.
Really? They weren’t the only ones not admitting their feelings or talking.
Okay, I was avoiding talking with Ophelia about things that truly mattered, because I didn’t want to lose her. But life was too short for missed opportunities and hiding things from those we loved, and I did, love her that is. That night when she killed Sam, I didn’t see a bloodthirsty assassin who didn’t feel anything. That night I saw a woman who felt everything, who was used as a pawn in their sick and twisted games; a woman that was afraid. What I saw in her eyes, it wasn’t just anger. She was afraid, terrified even and something told me that a lot of the things she did, she didn’t do them because she wanted to, but because she had to.
“Atlas?” Indigo stood up abruptly, pulling me from my reverie. “Holy shit.” He all but ran across the room as Atlas started coughing, trying to lift himself up.
“What the fuck?” He groaned as he fell down with a thud, turning his head from side to side.
“Atlas, hey.” Indigo placed a hand on his forehead. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be fine.” I had a feeling he was trying to reassure both of them, not only Atlas.
“What happened?”
“You got shot, dumbass,” I said as I stood up. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about tacos and surfing.” Atlas groaned as Indigo helped him lift himself up. “I was thinking about stopping that asshole from escaping. Dammit.” He pressed his left hand to his right shoulder where the bullet went through, his whole face distorted from pain. “This one hurts like a bitch.”
“No shit.”
“Fuck off, Storm. You would’ve done the same.” Yeah, I would’ve, but then I wouldn’t be feeling guilty about getting shot. This on the other hand...
“Just don’t do that shit, like ever again,” Indigo grumbled. “We all lost fifteen years of our lives watching you fall down.”
As if finally realizing that Indigo was hovering over him like a mother hen, Atlas’s eyes shone as he looked at him, seeing the concern on his face. They needed to talk without me in the background, and when my phone started ringing, I slowly excused myself and went outside to the hallway.
Creed’s name flashed on the screen and I knew I couldn’t keep ignoring his calls anymore. Dozens of them already went unanswered but I didn’t want to talk to any of them until Atlas woke up. Whatever it was, it was far less important than the fact that one of us got shot.
“This better be—”
“Fucking, finally! Do you have any idea how many times I’ve called you? Phones have been invented for a reason, Storm. Use them!”
“Okay, okay, calm down, Creed.” I sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. “What do you need?”
“What do I need?” He huffed. “I needed you to answer your fucking phone.”
“Well, I answered it now.”
The anger in his voice slowly dissipated with his next words. “And now might be too late.”
“What are you talking about?” I straightened up, not liking the sound of it. “Did something happen at the club?” God, no. “Is Ophelia okay?”
What if something happened to her? What if Logan got back there and found her, what if...?
“Trust me, Ophelia is absolutely fine. More than fine, actually.” I didn’t like the sneer in his tone, or the way he pronounced her name. I didn’t like that I hadn’t talked to her yet, that I hadn’t called her as soon as we got out. “My bike on the other hand, that might not be fine.”
“Your bike?”
“Yes, Storm, my fucking bike.”
“Did you just call me to bitch about your bike, because let me tell you some—”
“Ophelia took my bike, Storm.”What?“She’s gone.”
She’s gone.
