Because Our Tears Aren't Enough [South]

[Stare]

Ethan Leddaro

'Cause after all,
It's just a game.
<><><><><><>

Ethan glared at himself in the mirror, running a hand over the side of his face. The day before, he had gone to run around and play pranks with some of his friends (he was sure to steer them away from Layla's house), and came home a stinky, stenchful mess. Even his parents commented on how awful he looked and smelled. Ethan was exhausted, too, so he took a brief shower and went to bed. When he woke up in the morning, went into the bathroom and found a rather unpleasant surprise waiting for him in the mirror. His face was free of all concealer, revealing a horrible mask of bright red bumps, swelling up all along his cheeks and up high on his forehead. Some had little white caps on top of them. Ethan wanted to strangle the doctor who had perscribed that medicine to him. It did nothing at all for the acne- in fact, the little bumps seemed even brighter red and more convexed than before. Ethan felt it surfacing before he even realized it had been lingering, and he let out a howl of frustration, throwing the small white tube into the garbage without even a second thought of how much his parents had spent on it. He swiftly yanked the concealer out from behind the mirror and began roughly applying it to his face, blending and and smudging until the acne was barely visable anymore. Feeling himself cool down, he swished his black hair to one side, looking more confidently into the mirror. This time, he saw a slightly handsome teenager with something burning in his eyes.

His shoulders relaxed, and Ethan banished his temper back to where in belonged. He gently pulled his shirt up, staring at the criss-cross lines on his back. They had faded a great deal since the whipping, but his mother warned him there would be scars. Ethan almost wished he could put concealer on them, too, but that would be ridiculous. Besides, Layla never looked disgusted when she saw them. Only concerned and regretful, which confused Ethan. What did she have to regret? She wasn't the one who was an idiot and decided to stick up for that boy in order to look tough in front of a Keeper. And she had her share of pain, too, when that awful man slapped her. She wouldn't have scars, but while the cuts from that ring healed, he could tell it was painful for her to really move that area of her face. However, both of them had healed since then. Layla's face was back to normal, and while Ethan still had marks, they were no longer as raw or disgusting. Layla had told him that it wouldn't look that way forever. Ever since they arrived home that night, both cover in his blood. She had saved his life. They both had...

But Ethan couldn't think of Nadene. He looked up, toward the mirror again, with hollow, haunted eyes. He wasn't strong enough yet. It was so hard to avoid, though. It seemed that everything that involved pain, sorrow, or his scars reminded him of her. Ethan hated the Keepers more than ever, now. They had disgusted him before, mostly because of how they seemed to always be getting drunk and were smelly, fat, and cruel. But now he held an even deeper hatred for them. They served the Capitol, and the Capitol killed Nadene. It wasn't even for a crime she commited. No, Nadene was innocent. They killed her for entertainment, like she was some kind of animal who didn't matter. But that girl had a personality, and a heart. She mattered, no matter what the Capitol thought. Ethan felt tears spring into his eyes just thinking about it, so he angrily passed the back of his hand over them and moved out of his bathroom, away from the mirror that had surfaced too many bad memories for one day.

It was Saturday, and for once, Ethan had the day off. He wasn't sure if Layla had work or not, but decided against going to her house and meeting her parents. His friends, he knew, were probably all with their girlfriends somewhere. It was one disadvantage Ethan had. He didn't have a girlfriend. It wasn't that girls hadn't asked- he was the most popular guy in school, after all. But Ethan found he didn't want to date the pretty blondes with false smiles and bright white teeth, or the red heads who thought they were all that. He found he was more interested in the middle class girls, although he would never tell anyone. Still, even if he tried talking to one, they would walk away in disgust or ignore him. He was, after all, the back stabbing popular guy who interupted class and humiliated the teachers. So Ethan avoided those girls, and decided that being single made him a lot cooler, anyway.

Unsure of exactly where he was going, Ethan walked out his front door, not even bothering to shout back to his parents. They didn't really care where he went or what he did, as long as he was home in bed the next morning. Their carelessness had been an advantage to Ethan many times in his life, but he often wished that, perhaps just once, they would ask him what he was doing that day, or tell him to be back by a certain time. Of course, Ethan knew they wouldn't dare. Their son was perfect- why would he need them to tell him what to do? They thought everything he did was good and right, which wasn't true. Ethan persuaded, lied, and betrayed to get what he wanted, but that was just fine with his parents.

His legs made random turns and steps as Ethan found himself falling deeper and deeper into thought. Thoughts about his parents not caring, and his so-called friends, and Layla, which of course made him think of his back and her face, which led him to Nadene, which he avoided at all costs, and then went back to thinking about his parents again. It went around and around like a horrific carousel. Slowly, the actual thoughts drained away, until he was left with random words and names that repeated themselves over and over again in an odd, haunting chant. Every now and then, he was have an image of himself in the mirror before he put concealer on, accompanied by the words not good enough. Even more horrific were the images of Layla covered in red as she half assisted, half dragged him to his house, and then of Nadene fighting in the Games.

It was amazing that Ethan didn't run into someone before he did. People had moved out of the way for him, apparantly, but theis person must have been just as deep in thought as Ethan was. Either that, or it was a Keeper who was looking for trouble. Ethan blinked in surprise and instinctively took a step back, muttering a brief apology and blinking the cloudy thoughts out of his eyes, trying to get a grip on reality before it slipped away from him once more.

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[Deleted]

Main
"Speech"
Thought
The Voice

[/color]
Other[/center][/size]

What a shame
We all became such fragile, broken things
A memory remains, just a tiny spark
I give it all my oxygen
So let the flames begin
Oh glory

Perhaps it's odd, but I have never been fond of weekends. For my entire life I've watched other people clamoring to hit the door the second the final bell rings on Friday, while I hang back and try to soak up the last bit of routine and normalcy before reluctantly picking up my books and shuffling out in the back of the crowd. Similarly, I have never been fond of days off, of not having my time structured for me. I crave structure; waking up in the morning to find that I have nothing to do makes me feel directionless and lost.

Today happens to be Saturday and I happen to have the day off from work. Needless to say, the conjunction of these two facts has put me in an absolutely awful mood, my face seting itself in its default expression of mild irritation with the world as I shuffle aimlessly down the road. I have no idea exactly why I'm headed towards town since there's nothing for me there - no friends, nothing I really need to buy from the shops in the square - but I figure it has to be better than sitting around my house all day. I had considered maybe making the arduous trek to Julian's house, but a certain something made me promptly change my mind.

Really? You just want to show up with no warning? Doesn't his family already hate you enough without you being an imposing pain in the ass?

While I have grown used to the Voice's presence it never ceases to irritate me, the acerbic bass tones grating enough to make me noticeably cringe at what seems to everyone else to be dead silence. I haven't missed my parents' raised eyebrows and worried glances at each other whenever I jump at something that isn't there (at least not for them), but I have made a promise to myself to suffer through this in silence. I've caused enough problems for my loved ones lately, and I am determined to stop myself from causing any more pain. Although there are times when I find myself desperately wanting to tell Julian about it, I always bite my tongue and change the subject.

Oh please, quit acting so noble. The only reason you don't tell them is because you're afraid they'll find out how crazy you really are.

"Shut up," I growl to the empty air (talking to myself when no one's around seems to be another new habit that my family has begun to notice), pressing the work-roughened tips of a few fingers against my right temple. "I've got a hell of a headache right now, and you're not helping."

But annoying you is so entertaining, 'Ria. It's easy, too. After all, messing with your head should be easy since I'm inside it and you'll never, ever get rid of me...

[/i]

"You know, I've considered bashing myself in the skull with a rock. Sure, the resulting concussion would suck, but if it would get rid of you I'd totally put up with it."

Good luck with that, darling.[/i]

Grumbling angrily, I tug at the hemline of the old plaid flannel shirt that used to belong to my older brother, adjusting the loose hanging fabric on my torso before picking up speed, now walking briskly instead of shuffling. Despite my foul mood and the Voice's never-ceaing commentary, the Spring wind is almost pleasant as it blows through my hair in a fragrant breeze, tossing the multi-toned gold waves into a state of complete disarray. I consider trying to rake my fingers through the tangled mess but know it won't do me any good, so I resign myself to apathy and turn my eyes upwards to trace the movements of the clouds through a sharply cerulean sky.

I must really be out of it, because I don't even notice the other person's presence until I run smack into them, Newton's third law sending me tumbling onto the ground in turn. Cursing quietly I scramble up and start dusting off my jeans, turning my gaze on whoever it was that I hit. "I'm sorry, I'm completely spacing out right now. Are you okay?"

He's incredibly familiar, dark hair and eyes and a lean build that isn't all that different from Julian's, but it takes me a couple of seconds to accurately identify him. He's that kid at school that everyone fawns over, the really popular one that the girls in my class twitter about. Evan? Eli? Ethan, that's it. Ethan something. I eye him warily (because people like him seem to have a mission in life to make people like me miserable), still trying to collect myself after my fall. "Hey, Ethan. I'm guessing you have the day off, too?"[/color][/blockquote][/size]

[Stare]

Ethan Leddaro

'Cause after all,
It's just a game.
<><><><><><>

It took Ethan a few moments to recognize the girl he had run into. There were some girls that he had to lock into his memory, because he would pay for it if he didn't recognize them instantly. Those were the popular girls, of course. People could say whatever they wanted to about Ethan- it was true, he was a jerk who humiliated anyone who wasn't as popular as he was (with the exception of Layla, but they didn't know about her for a reason). It was the girls, however, that people really had to be afraid of. They were cruel, sneaky, nasty monsters who enjoyed destroying people with rumors and lies. They also had a dangerous passion for revenge. Ethan pretended to enjoy their company, and they pretended to be weaker and dumber than he was. It was a terrifying game, though. He would pay for even a tiny mistake.

This girl wasn't popular, therefor she was unimportant to him. He probably looked right past her at school. He took a moment to try and recognize the face. She obviously knew him, but that wasn't special. Everyone knew Ethan- he was one of the most popular guys at school. She looked like she might be a year older than him, maybe two. And than he had a sudden image of some of the popular girls making fun of her because of her lack of confidence. He remembered watching from a distance once, and being glad that they didn't realize how self-conscious he was.

He supposed he could have done something other than feel glad for himself. But it was rare for him to step out of his own character- selfish, betraying, and almost as cruel as they were. He enjoyed making others feel bad, for it elevated his self-confidence. Where did he develop this selfishness? Certainly not from his parents, who devoted themselves to him. Perhaps he had been born a terrible person, destined to this horrible cruelty. Or perhaps his insecurity was a seed, and anger toward himself had grown, teaching him to work to make himself better, not others. Either way, life had finalized him a monster, and Ethan could do nothing but accept the dangerous role. Those who feel sorry for the victims of the cruelty he poured out never seemed to feel sorry for the source. He was a person who had to live with his own anger, for his insensibility did not flow in just one direction. It was a barb that spiked everyone it touched, including the person who through it.

Ethan liked to tell himself that he was better than the rest of them because he had a small bit of regret toward who he was. But really, what was regret if he didn't act on it? It became a simple emotion that left his personality perpetually nasty. He wasn't perfect, which perhaps fueled his horrible words. Why was perfection so important to him? He had this image of him looking amazing and having all the girls (including the ones who weren't popular) having huge crushes on him. But even then, he wouldn't be perfect. He'd still have his terrible personality. So why did he aim for such an impossible thing? It only tore him apart on the inside.

Layla didn't see him as far from perfect, though. Was that a good sign? Did that mean that there really were good traits in him? Or was she just blind, reaching out for a kindness that didn't exist in him. Ethan wanted what she saw to be him. He really did. But it just wasn't him.

"Yeah, I have the day off," he said, hiding the memories that flooded back with this girl. "Haven't been having very much fun, though. I think I'd rather be working. You're... Aria, right? The one who the other girls make fun of?"

Well, at least he was honest.

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[Deleted]

Give me envy, give me malice
Give me your attention
Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me...
A break.

"You're... Aria, right? The one who the other girls make fun of?"

I give a barely-noticeable twitch of irritation and my eyes narrow marginally even as the Voice howls with laughter inside my head. God, I love this kid! We need to hang out with him more often.

I really don't have any right to be so touchy about his statement (it's completely true, after all), but the idea of being defined by my social ostracism has touched a sensitive nerve, the same one that flares up when people refer to me as "Liam Fowler's little sister," or "Julian Scott's girlfriend." Am I truly of such inconsequential value that people don't even bother to acknowledge me as my own person? I'm never "the girl who can out-sing ninety nine percent of the District" or "the girl who could win fistfights against boys twice her size back in elementary school." No, I am only referred to by my significance to other people, and this realization makes an agitated growl work its way up through me until I stifle it in my throat and attempt to look congenial. Other than inadvertently insulting me, Ethan hasn't done anything to warrant my wrath... yet.

"I suppose I am." My response is spoken in guarded tones, the voice I use to tell the kids at school I know what you're up to, so stop playing nice and hurt me already without having to come out and say it directly. This encounter wasn't something I'd really had any desire to deal with today. I don't like people and people don't like me, and I have grown so used to this mutual hate shared between society and myself that balking at the very thought of interacting with most people (Julian and my family and my very few friends are the only exceptions) has become an ingrained habit.

Still, there's something different about Ethan that I just can't put my finger on. I know from my lifetime of quietly watching the world pass by at school that he's definitely a complete jerk, there's something in his eyes that seems to scream don't judge me just yet, there's so much more to me than I let on. It's for this reason that I don't simply roll my eyes and walk away, giving him another apprehensive look before throwing caution to the wind out of the prospect of pure boredom. "Well, like I said, sorry for running into you. I was going to head to town to see what I could get into. Looks like you're heading there yourself."

I don't actually ask him if he'd like to walk with me or anything so foolish as that. There is a careful social protocol among high school students, and someone of my status being so bold as to ask for the company of what can only be defined as adolescent nobility breaks so many unwritten taboos that I don't even want to think about the consequences it would bring down on my head. Not for the first time, I can't help but envy Julian for being homeschooled (having to put up with his admittedly deranged family seems inconsequential compared to carefully treading the hallways with eyes and ears peeled for the next verbal attack).

"I mean..." After all this contemplation it finally hits me that even implying that the two of us could spend time together probably wasn't a great idea, and so I backpedal, sputtering to come up with words that will fix the situation (I have never been good with words, but hopefully this time they won't fail me). "I mean, I just now decided to go to town. I was actually thinking about going to my boyfriend's but he lives sort of far away and I really didn't want to just go barging in and -"

Way to ramble, brainless. If he didn't think you were weird before, he sure does now.

[/color]

I stutter to a halt, taking the Voice's comment into consideration before drawing my lower lip between my teeth and fixing my eyes on the worn path beneath my feet. There's a reason I don't talk to people, and sometimes I'm too stupid or hopeful to remember why. The damage done, I give a frustrated huff of air and turn on my heel to continue down the road, honestly not caring whether or not Ethan chooses to follow.[/color]

((Crap post D: I apologize, she's being difficult.))[/blockquote][/size]

[Stare]

Ethan Leddaro

'Cause after all,
It's just a game.
<><><><><><>

So maybe it wasn't the best thing to say to her. After all, she had feelings. But to Ethan, this girl was someone less than him. Someone weaker, smaller, and definitely less popular. And as she probably already knew, he treated those lesser than him with absolutely no respect. He didn't write the rules- he just followed him. And honestly, why should he care about Aria's feelings? What was the advantage? Just because he was friends with one unpopular didn't mean that he was going to give out charity to every other loner he saw. The idea was repulsive. Why should he give up everything he worked so hard to acheive just because some nobody had hurt feelings?

However, something about this girl made something inside Ethan feel... odd. Not in any romantic way- he was enjoying being single, and she had a boyfriend (although that had never stopped him before). But he recognized something in her hazel eyes. It was the same look, twisted by pain, anger, and revulsion, that hid in his own dark irises when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The same red hot words scratched in on the inside of a ice cold shell desgined specifically to keep their insults out while their own self anger burned the inside.

Doubt quickly took hold of the young Leddaro, though, as he jerked himself away from the small ray of hope. No. No, he couldn't do that again. He couldn't just let someone in, because then he actually starting caring, and it became too much. Besides, he didn't even know this girl. She was a stranger. A random person who couldn't even see past his well built walls he built to hide the darkness inside. She would never see the furious words, the flames of anger, and the black soul that loved to drink in the insecurity of others. She would never understand the hurt that lived inside him, because he was just never good enough, and others didn't have to point that out to him. Those words were going around his head every minute of every day- they were angry, they were red, and they burned as they flew at him like bullets of fire.

Yes, he knew how other people saw him. Shallow. Easy to figure out. A total jerk. And perhaps that was how it was meant to be. If they saw what was really inside of him... Ethan didn't even know. Would they feel sorry for him, or be afraid of him? Would they think more of him because they realized there was a constant war inside of him, with the good constantly losing? He could wonder for a long time about what they would think of him, but the fact of the matter was that they would never find out. They would be spared. And he would remain in constant torture. Just as it would always be. Just as it was supposed to be. He was getting what he deserved.

As Aria spoke, Ethan snapped out of his dark thoughts. Listening to her stammer, he realized that perhaps she wasn't as confident as he had thought. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, giving her the I'm not that scary look that he had given so many other girls when they had done the exact same thing. It probably wasn't helping the situation at all, but Ethan couldn't help himself. It was just so funny when someone looked at him as if he was the scariest thing in the world. Sure, he was tall, with dark hair and eyes, but it wasn't really that intimidating compared to a lot of the freaks that wandered District Seven's streets in the latest hours of the night. In fact, the way he stood and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly made him seem like the kind of funny guy that a person would want to get to know. The guy that made silly faces in pictures and loved to make others laugh. Unfortunately, no one would see him as that guy. No, he was the big scary Ethan Leddaro, ready to beat someone up to get their lunch money. Ethan passed his hand over his mouth to hide the wide grin that appeared at the idea that anyone in the district would ever think something like that.

When she turned and walked away, Ethan followed her, mostly because he needed someone to embarass for the day, and some trouble to put him in a better mood. His long legs allowed him to easily catch up to her, and he smiled. "Trust me, I'm not as threatening as I may seem at first." Ethan kept his cool, careless tone. There was no way he was about to befriend another unpopular- Layla was the one and only exception, and he was doing all he could to keep his friends from finding out about her. "You're also that rich kid's girlfriend. Lucky you. If I had a girlfriend and she was rich, I'd be spending all the time I could there."

There was a hint of longing in Ethan's voice. He had gotten over being jealous of those richer than him, because that was just about everyone in the district. He was poor, and he would admit it to anyone who asked. Perhaps that was a good thing, though. He had to struggle in order to get what he wanted, and that built him into someone worth being respected. However, it would be nice if he could stop worrying about having enough food, and being able to pay the bills. It would be nice to wear new clothes, and buy some shoes instead of having to wear the same old pair until his feet refused to squeeze into them. But Ethan didn't worry about it too much. Maybe the one good thing about him was that he didn't judge people by how much money they had.

But instead of saying any of this outloud, he simply raised his eyebrows further. "Why aren't you there right now?"

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[Deleted]

Started as a flicker, meant to be a flame
Skin has gotten thicker but it burns the same
Still a baby in a cradle, got to take my first fall
Baby’s getting next to nowhere with her back against the wall

A fact I have learned about people is that although they rarely change, they never cease to surprise me. Take Ethan following me, for instance. I’ve screwed up enough with my awkward, faltering verbalizations, made it more than clear that I want to be alone, and yet here he comes, trotting at my heels like an overly-enthusiastic puppy with a spectacularly fake smile. It’s almost amusing that people think I don’t see right through them, whether it’s pity hidden under transparent kindnesses or more often malice under false good intentions.

There isn’t much of a difference between compliments and lies. Sometimes they blur so closely together that I wonder why they have separate definitions.

Momentarily off-guard, I don’t pay much attention as he babbles on for some stretch of time, pointless drivel meant to do nothing other than fill the empty air and coax me back out of my shell. I can’t shake the sensation of being a mouse caught between the paws of a particularly sadistic cat. Still, that earlier look in his eyes that made me give him the original benefit of the doubt seems to linger, so I at least make the attempt to squash down my uneasiness enough to tune into what he’s saying.

“You’re also that rich kid’s girlfriend. Lucky you. If I had a girlfriend and she was rich, I’d be spending all the time I could there. Why aren’tyou there right now?”

Oh shit. He just went there. Go get ‘im, tiger.

The Voice chortles maliciously in the back of my head as eyes narrow dangerously and my tentative expression quickly knits its way into a snarl. While inside I am a broken, fragile mess that is hesitant to be built back up into something useful, I’m far from inexperienced at creating an intimidating exterior (sometimes if you can scare them off they stay away for a while), drawing myself up until my five-foot-ten frame seems even taller than it already is – this usually works better on the several boys in my grade that I outstrip in height, but the few inches between Ethan’s stature and my own can be substituted with an extra amount of bravado – and rounding on him with surprising sharpness, hissing out a response through gritted teeth.
“I really don’t think anyone realizes how absolutely sickI am of being ‘that rich kid’s girlfriend,’” I growl in a tone that probably sounds more reminiscent of a severely irritated mountain lion than a human being, work-worn hands balling into tight fists at my side. “Several reasons why it pisses me off beyond belief, actually.

“Reason one.” My speech is augmented by a step in Ethan’s direction, closing the space between us to an estimated four or five feet. “’That rich kid’ has a name, and it’s Julian. Not so difficult to remember, and I’m sure he would prefer to be remembered for who he is rather than for his family’s money.

“Reason two.” Another step, about three feet between us now. “I am my own person. I’m not defined by who I’m dating or how much wealth they happen to have. Just because bitches at school like to make my life a living hell doesn’t mean I don’t have any self-worth.”

Ria, who the hell are you kidding? A rock has more self-worth than you do. At least it can be used for a paperweight or something. What are you good for? It’s all I can do to mentally shriek at the Voice to be silent, taking another step and closing the distance to a little less than a foot. “And finally, reason three. Just because I’m ‘that rich kid’s girlfriend’ doesn’t make me any different from everyone else in this hellhole of a District. I’m a little tired of people presuming that I get special treatment or some shit like that. I don’t, trust me.”

I neglect to mention the brand new dining set that sits in my house (hell, that was Julian’s fault for smashing the first one, replacing it was the right thing to do) or the weight of the diamond necklace that sits out of sight behind the drab flannel of my shirt,since the mention of such things wouldn’t exactly do wonders for my “no special treatment” statement. But that is possibly the thing that irritates me the most about my infuriatingly public relationship. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve heard she only gets more days off because she’s sleeping with the guy who’s dad owns the logging company or hell, I bet she’s gotten a pay raise that no one knows about, forced to endure the scrutiny of anyone who knows about the fact that Julian Scott is dating some no-name District hick with no money and nothing going for her. And everyone knows. Everyone.

Maybe it’s the fact that this explosion has been brewing for some time, or maybe it’s just that Ethan said several inflammatory things to me on an already-bad morning, but my tirade still isn’t over. So with an agility honed from years of tree climbing, my arm darts out and latches onto the collar of his shirt, jerking him forward until we’re nose to knows and my infuriated eyes bore into his. “So unless you want your ass kicked, you will not refer to me as ‘that rich kid’s girlfriend’ ever again, got it?”

[Stare]

Ethan Leddaro

'Cause after all,
It's just a game.
<><><><><><>

Ethan had always treated the arcane anger inside of him like lava that poured in from some unknown source, pooling in his core, just waiting for him to show a moment of weakness so it could erupt out of him. It was a calescent thing that lived deep inside, it's vehemence pulsing out into his blood every time someone said something that tempted his enmity out of it's cold, dark den where Ethan had banished it long ago. He never tried to tap into that energy- it was dangerous to play with fire, and the last time he had, things had gone terribly wrong. Lava was not something that just came and went- it was burned scars inside (and outside) of him, every time he let it loose. Okay, so some people could argue that a temper wasn't nearly as dangerous as lava, but Ethan tended to disagree. While someone could run away from lava (or, at least, he assumed one could, since it was a physical object. Ethan didn't live anywhere near a volcano- he had only seen them in the Games) , it was almost impossible to escape anger's dark fingers that could sting ice cold and burn red hot at the same time. To Ethan, anger was something to be avoided.

Apparently, Aria disagreed.

Ethan recognized the fury that lit up her hazel eyes, burning into his own dark orbs as she yanked him down. He would admit, she was strong for a girl, but that wasn't what he was focusing on at the moment. What caught his attention was how easily her now flowing anger reflected his own, which he kept locked away in the place where he would not go, for fear that he would never return. Keeping a monster that could not be kept, he remained solid and strong (or at least, he acted like it) despite the fact that he was bent over in the weaker position, his spine aching because of his unfortunately awkward angle. He wanted to pull away, because he recognized that kind of fire- he had felt it rage inside of him so many previous times- but he remained where he was, simply observing. He found it terrifying that she didn't struggle against her anger- still, perhaps her mind wasn't as dark or angry as his was when his temper broke out of its rusted chains.

For a moment, Ethan was startled. Not scared (how could he possible be scared of someone who was so much shorter than him?). No, Ethan wasn't often scared. But he was taken off guard- he didn't realize that what he had said was so upsetting or offending. He was just identifying her as who she was to him. Honesty was always the way to go (Ethan felt himself inwardly chuckle at the idea of reciting the rule he so often broke). He had almost no doubt in his mind that she had first identified him as 'that popular guy from school', or at least something close to it. Names never came first. People were identified by who they were, and what they had done. Names were only used to be friendly- after all, how would Ethan feel if someone shouted 'hey, you, guy who treats others with no respect, come here!' instead of just saying his name? Ethan suddenly realized why Aria would prefer to be called by her real name. Still, it wasn't like he had really insulted her.

Ethan's eyebrows raised after a moment of silence, mocking her with a gesture that asked Are you finally done? I'm not afraid of you, no matter what you say. The truth was, Ethan only feared himself, and the mistakes he could make. Other people... well, they could try to terrify him, and he could pretend to be intimidated, but at the end of the day it was just another lie he told the world. So he gave up on playing Let's Pretend a long time ago, and became honest about how he felt (which was rare- he was rarely honest unless he was insulting someone, like he did when he first saw Aria). When people stood tall and looked him in the eye with their burning glares, he felt like laughing, and so he laughed. When someone threatened him, he felt amused, and so he acted amused. While there were few things that Ethan did that could be considered truthful, his immediate reactions to another person's actions were honest, even when honest wasn't what the person wanted to see or hear. The only exceptions were the popular girls, because he would lose his social status in an instant if he told him how he really felt about their horrible unnatural hair and awful taste in clothes.

It was odd how much Ethan could relate to this girl, though, and perhaps that was what stopped him from just spitting out another insult at her. Same uncertainty hidden behind two different masks- one that was happy and careless, the other angry and defiant. The same temper, although Ethan noted with a hint of amusement that his was controlled much better than hers (although perhaps his was more violent, more dark, more angry, which was why it could only be released one in a while). So instead, he reached a hand up and attempted to shove her away by pushing her shoulder, surprised when her grip on his shirt didn't loosen. "You've got quite the grip there, Aria." He was teasing her, and he knew it, but at the moment, he didn't care. Ethan shoved her again, breaking free of her grasp at last. "Keep your temper under control. I was just being honest."

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