Chapter 4

 

Don’t read this part if you have a weak heart. Go on until you see “Stop”.

“Yes, Ben, yes!” Eleanor (sorry to any Eleanor(s) that’s reading this fic! But it’s OK if you’re a Ben fan) moaned as Ben pushed in deeper. “Oooh… that feels sooooo fine!” She wrapped her legs loosely around Ben’s hips so that he’d have more space to move around. Moaning as she felt another sensation, he felt her grip tightened on back of his neck; her other hand gripping the bed covers as she felt her muscles contracting.

Ben was moving around a lot, like he was in a hurry and wanted this to finish fast but Eleanor wasn’t complaining. She’d tasted bliss but none of those was as sweet, compared to the one that she’s having right now. 

Ben felt her tensed up and she seemed to be arching her back nearly every time he pushed it in. He must’ve been one hell of a maniac! He was sure that he’d given her the pleasure of her life, probably more.

Having sex in her apartment on a Saturday night and making love with the famous Ben Adams… this should go into the history books!

 

Stop. You can continue now.  

 

“Paul, would you please calm down?!” Mark exasperated, casting a glance at a-jumping/overactive-Paul.

Christian raised one of his eyebrows at Mark’s comment. Without a question, he diverted his glance and looked back down at the music sheet grasped in his left hand.

“I can’t!” Paul hollered back from the other side of the room.

“I can’t write anything with you distracting me and jumping around like a maniac in front of me!”

“You’re not even writing!”

“That’s ‘cause I can’t!”

“You can’t write?!” Paul grinned. “God, Mark, you should’ve told us earlier that you couldn’t write. We could’ve at least send you back to school.”

“Paul, I’m not in the mood for any of your silly jokes at the moment,” Mark groaned.

“You’re not writing, you’re not writing…” Paul sang in a off-key melody that he’d just made up in his head. “You two are sun-tanning!” Paul accused, jabbing Mark’s bare chest with his finger and ran away before Mark managed to get up from the chair.

“True, true.” Christian sat up in the chair suddenly and grabbed the music sheet, scribbling something furiously on it before presenting the paper to Mark. “Ta-da!”

“Eh?”

“It’s called Eyes On You.”

“It sounds like an Eric Clapton song or something.”

“Er…” Christian rolled his eyes. “That’s only ‘cause song titles are always the same. We’ve got other bands or singers writing songs with the title Hey You, If Only, Miracle…

“Cut it, Chris. I know that.” Mark looked at the music sheet for a while. “But I just want us to be different.”

“How different, Mark?” Christian asked. “After all, we’re all human. If you want us to be different, we might as well have bigger heads for our big brains and probably two more extra limbs and we can write and produce more songs so that other bands wouldn’t have the chance to write songs with the same title.”

“But that would mean we’ll have twice or probably three times more albums than the rest of the singers.”

“Well, that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Come to think of it, I don’t think so.” Mark shuddered. “People might freak and we can say bye-bye to our dreams and goals and of being in a1.”

“Told you.” Christian laughed as he looked at Paul who was trying to untangle himself from a bush nearby the swimming pool. “Fool.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Paul shouted. “Just don’t understand how could I get stuck!”

“Take off your pants!” Mark shouted back. “It’s probably hooked to those branches!”

Paul laughed dryly and shouted a quick “hi” to Ben who’d just walked out of the back door to the house’s backyard that housed the swimming pool.

“Hey Ben!” Mark and Christian said at the same time.

Ben looked up from the chair that he was seated in and nodded a “hello”.

“What’s up?” Mark asked.

“Tired.”

“It’s normal.” Christian chuckled. “We know what you’re up to last night.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Mark said. “After all, you’re always going to her house when you need one.”

“Right…”

“Hey, you can’t say that we’re wrong ‘cause you never bring your girl back here,” Christian said.

Ben nodded as he sunk back into the chair, trying to soak up the heat from the sun.

“Paul, are you out?” Mark shouted.

“Nearly…” Paul muttered to himself. He looked across to see a frown marring Mark’s face. “Ooh… yay!!” Paul yelled with happiness as he leaped away from the bush.

“Finally…!” Christian exasperated.

“Bad bush, bad!” Paul said, wiggling his finger at the bush, as if scolding it.

Mark and Christian burst into laughter as they saw Paul scolding the bush, waking up a sleeping Ben. Apparently, he’d fallen asleep amidst all the commotion happening around him.

 

~~ecaf~~

 

“Babe!” He heard someone called. Turning around, he found himself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes.

“Hi Lyean,” he said as he bent down a little to kiss her. However, she pushed him away.

“I heard what happened.”

He simply stared back at her, a blank look on his face.

“Your mother told me.”

“About?”

“About last night.”

“Oh…” and for a second there, he looked unhappy as a look of hurt crossed his face but it passed quickly. “So, you knew, huh?”

“Babe, you know you could’ve told me. I can help you.”

“No one can, Lyean. Besides, I don’t want to trouble you. He’s not all gentle. In fact, I’m doubting that he even has a loving and caring side.”

“You longed for a better father, don’t you?”

He nodded solemnly. “We all do, don’t we? I mean, if you have a bad, mean father. Of course you would longed for a better father. It’s for a better future.”

“I know what you mean.”

He started walking toward his class as he didn’t want to discuss that matter any more with her, hoping that she would take that as a sign and walked away to her own class as well but he was wrong.

She jogged up to him, grabbing him by his arm when she’s close enough. “Look, I can help you and I mean it.”

“Listen here, Lyean. No one can help me when I can’t even help myself! I can’t help my mother either and I can’t ease her pain! And do you know how much I’d suffered for the past, what – ten years? You don’t know! So, please, Lyean, I’m begging you. Don’t act like you understand.” He paused, studying her face. He thought he saw a look of hurt in her eyes but he wasn’t sure. “I know you care but believe me, but you’ve got no idea how much I’d suffered and how much I wish that I’m dead.” He stopped curtly and started walking away, after wrenching his wrist from her grip.

Lyeana stood there, outside at the corridors, staring at her boyfriend as he walked off. She could feel his anger; his anger for his father and his anger for his mother. He’s just wishing that he were never born. Even if he’s born, he didn’t want to be born in that family… and what she felt for him was tearing her apart.

When he thought that she couldn’t understand him, she actually could. She wasn’t exactly her father’s biological daughter. She’s been picked up from an orphanage by quite a well-off family – after she’d ran away from home with her sister; running away from their father, who was a child-abuser as well. But her situation was a little different. Her mother died giving birth to her, so she didn’t have a mother to protect her. That’s why she ran away at a young age of six. Her biological father never did searched for her though. Probably happier that they’d finally left and he could be single again.

Her new father – whom she loved to bits – was a lawyer and she knew that her father could help him. But why didn’t her boyfriend accept her offer? Just because he’s poor?

He wasn’t exactly poor though but he wasn’t exactly rich either. More like, stuck in the middle. His father used to be very smart – which was why he was rather smart as well – and quite rich. His income for every month was probably around £3,000 and above. So, wasn’t he quite rich? Then again, his father probably spent all his money buying alcoholic drinks, especially after he started developing the habit of drinking to drown his sorrows; after he’d stopped talking to his wife and closed off all contacts – losing all ways to express his bottled-up feelings and problems.

Lyeana shook her head sadly. “I’ll help you, babe. Don’t worry. I promise that I will.”

 

~~ecaf~~

 

Ben woke up in his bed, drenched in cold sweat, breathing hard, as he tried to concentrate on slowing down his pulse.

“No… please!” was all he’d said throughout the whole course of the nightmare. He remembered the fear he’d felt in the dream and probably the pain – if there were pain in the nightmare. He remembered the dream vividly. He shuddered as he recalled the icy coldness and dagger-like stares.

Slowly, he got out of bed, grabbed his glasses, put them on and made his way through the darkness of his room, running his fingertips along the walls and the banister as he went down to the living room in darkness and was suddenly temporarily blinded by the light from the kitchen; only to find Christian sleeping in there.

Ben filled a glass to the brim with cold water and took a seat by the kitchen table, staring at the rising and falling of Christian’s back as he breathed. A pen was still in his hand, froze in motion as he’d stopped writing when he’d fallen asleep; with his left cheek nestled on the crook of his left elbow that was resting on the tabletop. His guitar was leaning on a table leg nearby.

Ben wondered how long had Christian been asleep as he sipped the water slowly, taking a quick glance at the clock hanging above the arch that served as a door that led out of the kitchen and into the living room. The clock showed 4.13 in the morning.

Placing the glass in the kitchen sink, Ben walked toward Christian and shook him up.

“What the – ” Christian begun, his voice thick with sleep.

“Mind your language, Ingebrigtsen,” Ben scolded playfully.

“Oh… hi Ben.” Christian dropped his pen and started rubbing the sleep out of his eyes vigorously with the heel of his hands.

“Yes, hi Ben,” Ben said sarcastically. “What are you doing writing a song in the dead of the night like this?”

“You’re not my mother.”

“Am your band mate. I’ve got to know. Besides, I thought Tim gave us three days off. This is just the second day. So, why are you working when you’re not supposed to?”

“Just felt like.”

“Eh?”

“I’ve got ideas, alright? It can’t wait, you know. When you get brainstorms, you just have to empty those brilliant ideas…”

“Not that brainstorm talk again.” Ben sighed as he scratched the back of his head that wasn’t even itchy. “Look, get some sleep, will ya? We don’t want you to collapse from exhaustion like what happened the other time when we’re in Thailand.”

“I did?” Christian asked, puzzled.

“Yea.”

Slowly, Christian regained his temporarily lost memory. “Sorry, my brain’s not working very well. It’s too early in the morning.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t write a song early in the morning. You can’t even think straight, needless to say that you’re definitely not getting any brainstorms at all.”

“Alright, alright. Quit it already. I’m off to bed.”

“Glad to hear that you’re taking my advice.”

“Am not. Just need some sleep ‘cause I’m thinking of going shopping tomorrow. You wanna come?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“Good.”

 

~~ecaf~~

 

“Really, Dad, this boy has been abused since… oh, I don’t know… ever since I knew him.” Lyeana paced her father’s office restlessly.

“I thought you knew him since you went to the same primary school,” her father replied calmly from behind her. He was seating on the great oak table, looking as his adopted daughter paced the room. He was a handsome man with a great build for a body – a result of working out three times a week with his personal trainer and working out on his own whenever he felt like he wanted to. After all, he had a gym in his house.

“Yeah, yeah… that’s right. Ever since primary school.” Lyeana stopped pacing and took a seat on the couch nearby. “Dad, this boy’s really nice. I’m sure you knew it just by your first look at him.”

“That’s very true, princess.”

“Don’t call me that, Dad. You know I don’t really like it. It makes me sound as if I’d been pampered all my life and I demand for everything.”

“Aren’t you being pampered all you life?”

“Dad, I don’t demand for it, I just get it because you want to give it to me.”

Her father looked at her, smiling. He really didn’t pick the wrong ones – Lyeana and her sister were wonderful kids. He vowed to help Lyeana’s boyfriend, even if that means Lyeana’s boyfriend would break up with her or even if he’ll break up with Lyeana when they’re both out of school.

This was what a lawyer should do, wasn’t it? To help someone when they’re down and to defend someone who’s correct and not to defend the evil. He was sure that he’d help this boyfriend of his daughter’s.

 

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