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Of course, Ike is the first thing you notice when you finally walk into the party two hours late. (And the first thing you had looked for, if you’re really being honest.)
You can rationalize it. God knows you’ve tried. It is easy to say you only notice him because he is the host, but the fact that that isn’t the reason makes your stomach twist in all sorts of uncomfortable ways. In a whole school year, your relationship has gone from pure hatred and lust to… whatever it is now. You don’t know. Occasional companions? Sometimes partners-in-crime? Confidantes? The thought of him being your friend makes your nose turn up in a strange way. But you stepped in front of a loaded gun for him. Defended him. Fought side by side. So you can’t say he’s your enemy anymore.
All you know is that when his eyes finally catch yours, he has to stop himself from looking relieved, and that feels like a small victory. Ike casually steps away from the two girls he is dancing against, and when he finally starts to walk over towards you, you have to turn your head away, because you would rather be dead than be caught staring at Ike.
He looks different under the neon lights, collar flipped up, hair swept back, and away from his eyes. Not good. Not bad. Just different. More human, maybe. You will your heart to stop beating like that. God, sometimes you feel like an idiot around him.
You drop your already nearly empty cup to the side and shake your head. He’s casually dancing his way over, so he can pretend to accidentally bump into you. Maybe you aren’t friends. If you were, then he could just walk over to you like a normal person. Maybe expecting Ike to behave like a normal person in any setting is just asking too much.
His eyes are beautiful. You’ve really never noticed it before. Maybe you’ve made a point to ignore it. But now, it’s all you can think about, since he hasn’t spoken a word yet. He just keeps staring, like you’re on fire, and if he stands too close, he’ll catch your flames.
Sure, the alcohol could be to blame. There is always something around you to blame, to become the temporary lie you tell yourself to avoid the truth. You just wish things could be easy for once. You wish he could be better. Kinder, maybe. Things could be different.
“Terrible party,” You use as a greeting, crossing your arms when he finally stops in front of you. Ike is staring at you with that stupid expression on his face, that smirk where he looks surprised and pleased with himself and you just want to spread your fire. Maybe you really wouldn’t mind watching him burn. Sometimes, it seems like he’d enjoy going down in flames.
All you can do is mimic it in return with a smirk, like you always do. Neither one of you will give an inch. Lies are his mother tongue. It comes so naturally to him, like how fire comes to you. He shapes and reshapes himself and the world to his liking. He has no motive but winning whatever fickle game he is playing against the faculty or his father in his head.
Being around Ike always seems to be a competition. You don’t know what you’re playing for. Who can last the longest? Who can sacrifice more? Who can care less? Who can sacrifice themselves first? Sometimes-tonight- you’re sick of the game.
“Since I finally came to one of your parties, does that mean you’ll stop spamming me with invitations like a stalker?” Your insults make him smile. He likes that he can get a rise out of you without even trying, and you don’t know why you give him the satisfaction.
This party has nothing to do with Casey winning the election. Ike doesn’t do anything unless it benefits him, and this- the lights, the atrocious music, the dancing-you can’t figure out what his goal is. He’s trying to prove something. Maybe to himself. Maybe to you, you consider for second, but then you shake the notion off as ridiculous. Ike doesn’t care about you, just occasionally about getting in your pants. Maybe this is about him wanting to break every rule he possibly can before they throw him in one of those cells in the basement. He wants to rattle at the cages of authority until they come tumbling down.
“Red, you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take your word as absolute authority as far as social events go.” Ike mutters sourly, but he’s smiling, “Considering you’ve haven’t been out of your dorm room in at least two months. I was getting worried. But I can assure you, this is what a well-functioning party looks like. Notice the girls already shedding layers of their clothing? The overwhelming smell of cheap alcohol? I’ve missed this.” He rakes his eyes up and down your form, just the same way as he always does, in a way that makes you feel two inches tall. (He’s assessing. Always assessing, deciding who is a threat and who isn’t, who he can manipulate, who he can use to his advantage, who he’ll stab in the back. You know you get a clear NON-THREAT stamped on your forehead in his mind. He decides to trust you at some point. You’re the only one.)
Even he can’t deny that you look good in that dress, but unlike Hunter, who nearly had an asthma attack when he saw Casey make her grand entrance, Ike is easily able to maintain a bored expression as he turns to face the party once more. He sneaks one more glance when he thinks you’re watching Hunter and his friends dancing. Or two. Just to make sure you really are in one piece. He is right about one thing, and one thing only: it has been a while since you’ve really been out and about.
Ike says something to you that gets lost under the rattling bass blasting in your ear. He looks at you expectantly with those stupid blue eyes, but you don’t bother asking him to repeat himself. There’s a hand on your shoulder suddenly, cold fingers stretching across your burning skin that demands your attention.
“Hey.” It’s a boy. A pretty-looking boy who hasn’t held a gun to your head or even left you for dead. God, what have your standards become? His hair is amber, like rows of grain and corn and sunlight. You think his locker might be near yours.
“Do I know you?” It’s a blunt remark, the first thing out of your mouth because it is the first thing that comes to your slightly drunk mind. Ike always says you can’t hold your liquor and you’ll never admit that he’s right. As soon as the words leave your mouth, the boy’s smile dissipates. You think it might’ve been a little rude, but then again, would you have stopped yourself from saying it if you had been sober? His hand drops from your shoulder, embarrassed maybe. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Casey crawling under the table for some reason. You don’t have time to worry about that now.
You glance to the side and Ike is already gone. He’s back with some girl on the dance floor that you’ve never seen before. She kisses him like it’s so easy. Why couldn’t it be that easy for you? You’d feel so much better if you just gave in, if you let him win. You feel like you’re burning. This. This jealousy, this hatred, this admiration, this recognition that he makes you feel. It’s what you both loathe and appreciate about him. Ike can somehow make you feel like not enough, yet inspire you to be more than what you are, all at the same time. You wish things could be different. Lately, you spend too much time wanting to go back to the beginning so you could do things differently.
Ike glances back over at you for a minute while his hands are all over another girl, and it’s like a punch to the gut in the worst way. What does he want from you? What do you want from him? You think in one lifetime you loved him, in another he betrayed you, maybe once you killed him, in the next he returned the favor, once you left him waiting, in one he found you just in time, and now... Now what? You’re sixteen. A kid, really, even though you haven’t felt like one in a very long time. You think maybe things are so complicated because you’re carrying the emotions from a thousand lifetimes for this boy. Or maybe every teenager feels like that the first time they’re in love, and you aren’t special. You can’t even cry to your mother about it.
“Jade,” Hunter greets you with a smile, approaching with two cups in his hands. You’re three drinks in and you are already well on your way to becoming a hot mess.
“Hey, earth to Jade,” He waves hand in front of your eyes, waiting for you to pay attention to him. He looks like Jimmy a bit, with all the lights flashing. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. You thought you noticed a resemblance the first time you ever saw Hunter. That’s why you trusted him right away, because he’s always felt a bit like your brother.
You wonder if Ike put something in your last drink, because you’re spinning like the cylinder. The reality of the crowded room with so many people is starting to fade. Hunter feels like the steadiest, most trustworthy person in the whole place. He is one of the few people you actually want to talk to. The two of you hide from the vibrating crowd and laugh about Casey’s insanity during the election. He makes a ton of jokes that you don’t really get, but you laugh anyway, because his smile is pretty contagious. You just want him to know that you like him. You really wish Jimmy was here right now.
“You should just dance with him if you want to.” Hunter says carefully, because he doesn’t want to sound pushy. His nose is so big. Has it always been that big? You’re so drunk. You make a face, scrunching your freckles, and sticking a large bite of brownie into your mouth. You just need the extra few moments of time it gives you to think of an answer that doesn’t give away everything you’re holding inside.
“I really don’t want to talk about Ike.” You say, shaking your head. He seems to get it.
“Ok. That’s great. Not talking about Ike is the best. Let’s not talk about Casey either.” He decides, checking her out from across the room. Not checking out in a sleazy way, like how Ike does it. When Hunter looks at her, his green eyes swell up with a soft expression and his whole body seems to melt, because he can see her solidly in front of him and he knows she’s safe. You can tell he’s watching to make sure she’s happy and comfortable and not too tipsy. That’s real love, you think. It’s difficult in a way that’s different from how you and Ike are.
“Sure. Let’s get another drink.” “That’s a great idea, Jade. You always have really good ideas. Do you think Casey likes my shirt? Is it too green?”
“I thought we weren’t talking about the blondes tonight.” You remind him, finger pointed. You always pull out the finger guns when you drink too much.
“You’re right. I wish I didn’t worry about her so much. And about how much sleep she’s getting. And about how much it’ll destroy her if she looses this campaign. And what she thinks of me.”
“You’re a great guy, Hunter. Really. You’d go to the moon and back for her and she knows it. Casey is lucky to have someone like you.” You wish you could say something that would actually make him feel better, but you’re pretty sure only Casey can do that. He’s got it so bad. Did you ever thank him for rescuing you that time you got kidnapped? God, other people don’t have to ask themselves questions like that.
“Wow, Jade.” He looks taken aback. Really shocked. Like just because you paint your nails black you can’t give someone a compliment. It’s only then, when you’re smiling at him, that you realize you haven’t smiled in a long time. It feels nice.
"Yeah, yeah. You can thank me later,” You say with a shrug, already leading him across the room, and you don’t let yourself look at Ike even once.
Casey gives a speech, voice more like a growl then girl, and it’s totally badass. You cheer louder than anyone else in the room because you want her to know that the closest thing she has to family is there to support her. Especially since you told her you couldn’t make it. Later, she’ll cry herself to sleep when the two of you are alone, but now, she looks like the warrior she was in another life. It’s makes you swell with pride.
You almost believe her when she says you can get out of here. She’s rallying the troops against the Academy. Granted, the troops are a dance-floor-full of teens who are drunk on Ike’s liquor and missing their parents.
They did something terrible, once upon a time. You can’t remember what it was, only that you’re still paying for it. Maybe your mom was right to look at your with such disgust and devastation. Maybe you really are a devil and you deserve far worse then this place. Sure, you’ve seen bullets tear through your friends flesh, you’ve been kidnapped, beaten, and twisted into an entirely new person. But you’ve made real friends. You’ve stopped burning yourself and everything else you can get your hands on. You hate the way Ike makes you feel, but at least he stirs some emotions in you. That’s better than how you used to be, just like a blank canvas, empty and incomplete.
The Academy can’t be beaten because it’s a prison that you built for yourselves. Casey still thinks that she can fix everything. You believe that she believes it, and for tonight, that’s enough.
When you wake up tucked underneath the sheets the next morning, you are still wrapped in the green sequins dress from the night before. Your head is killing you, but it’s not the kind of headache that you’ve been accustomed to these last few months. They aren’t accompanied by visions of ivory castles, coffins, flower petals blossoming in the morning, girls burning at the stake, flesh tearing open, or versions of Ike that make you want to hate him a bit less.
You think maybe this is all his fault. Not the current situation- that you’re tired and hungover, that’s all you. This, as in the Academy. Everything. The death and destruction. You’re exhausted by the whiplash you get from changing your opinion about him every other minute. You wish someone in this place would give you some answers, but you know that you won’t find help within the walls of the Academy.
You know the next time you see Ike, he’ll give you shit for being such a light-weight. You’ll spend the whole time talking yourself out of asking if he was the one who carried you back to your room. If you’re being honest with yourself, you already know the answer. Because he is somehow careless with everyone but you, and you can almost imagine him tucking in the sheet around you.
Casey is brilliant and badass and fearless. Ike is a liar and lovely and chaos personified. What do you have going for you? You love, wholly and unashamed, so deeply that you think it might consume you. That’s the part of your mother that lives on. You fight tooth and nail for the people you love. They think Ike is the crafty one, but you will use every dirty trick in the book to keep them safe. And if you can’t save them in time, then you’ll survive, if only to find them in the next cycle.
You never did dance with Ike.
He loves you. It’s not the same as Hunter and Casey’s love. It’s complicated and twisted and comes at a much higher price. But it’s real and you feel it in shades of red and that has to count for something.
In the end, neither one of you will give an inch. You keep fighting. You keep winning. You play the game. Ike’s destiny is forever entwined with yours, so you can’t escape him, but you can never really have him either.
Maybe the game is all there is.