Fallocaust (The Fallocaust Series) by Quil Carter Page A

vulnerable. I just couldn’t bring myself to do that, I had a reputation to uphold.
I had to go, before he woke up and found me in here. I didn’t even want to fathom what would happen if he saw me in his bedroom. With my luck he would scream and call me a rapist.
    Wordlessly, I got up and turned around and walked out of the room.
    My heart was still beating hard as I quickly jogged back to my house, refusing myself a backwards glance.
    There was so much to think about as I walked down the dark empty road. But all I could think about was how soft his hair looked, how warm and smooth his skin looked too. I could have touched him, just for a second… but I couldn’t. Not like that.
I closed my eyes, calling myself every name in the book; coward mostly. I didn’t know what all these building feelings meant, and I pushed them away as much as I could.
    Killian wouldn’t want to be around me, I was the most hated, cold hearted prick on the block. We were complete opposites. He probably hated me for following his ass anyways, probably thought I was a creeper. And I was! I just came from his fucking bedroom.
I cursed at myself before angrily tossing my cigarette butt into a pile of snarled wire. Feeling like the biggest idiot who ever was. I continued to walk to my house, the dark cloud that was my thoughts not far behind.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
    Killian
     
     
     
    No matter how many times I told myself not to look, I was always more than tempted.
Was he there? Of course he was… he was always there. He was always just in the corner of my eye, I wanted to look… I wanted to look so badly, but I couldn’t.
    Whenever I had mustered up the stones to try and make eye contact with him, he would look away. Staring off in the distance, his cold and perfect face hard and emotionless. Like I all of a sudden ceased to exist. He didn’t want to look at me, I didn’t know why.
Reaver’s countenance was always a perfect mixture of ice and confidence. Every time I was close I couldn’t help but stare at his eyes. Like bits of coal, I always tried to look for brown but I’d only seen it once when the light was on him in the Slaught House. I could see the coffee brown flecks in his hair too, but only in bright lights. When he wasn’t in light, his hair and eyes looked onyx black. Though his skin always seemed so pale, I liked the contrast. I found myself specifically paying attention to what the lighting was around us, just to see how he would look in them. I was so silly...
But he was so handsome, so perfect. His hair was long in the front, but cut short in the back. His bangs fell over his eyes, ending at his nose.  He was always brushing them away, tucking them behind his ear. Though I liked it when they fell over his eyes.
I had tried to memorized his facial features when I had come along for the meat pickup. That was the first time I had ever been close to him, the first time I could get more than a glance without him noticing. All the other times and all the other times after, he was just in the corners of my vision. I just wanted to know who he was, he was so mysterious. I could see why he was called the Raven by the legionnaires. He was always a black figure in the corner of my eye.
Granted, I did know some things about Reaver but not much. My mother had forbidden me from becoming his friend, she didn’t understand I couldn’t have become his friend if I wanted to. She had assumed since I was quiet and he was quiet we would hit it off. Except I was quiet because I would rather read or play my guitar, Reaver was quiet because he hated everyone.
Reaver hates everyone . I had been told that time and time again by everyone when I asked. Even asking garnered me weird looks. Reaver was Reaver apparently, why would I be asking about him? He was a dick, though a loyal one. He only liked Leo, Greyson and the guy who lived in the shack on the hill, stay away from him.
Everyone else stayed away from him.
From what I had heard