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The Beautiful Ones	By : TaimaMarie Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 1682 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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AN: Second Chance is a song by Shinedown, and I really feel like it describes Cassandra.

Cassandra sat outside Criss’s bedroom, her back to the door, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was hugging them, resting her forehead against them, and sobbing loudly. She knew that the illusionist could hear her, but that didn’t make her slow down.

If nothing else, it made her cry harder. She wanted him to come out to her, to talk to her. She hated that he had walked away from her. She hated that he had put a closed door between them.

Maybe that’s how he feels when you do it to him, a little voice that reminded her of Jiminy Cricket said inside her head. Maybe this awful sense of loss that you have is the same one you’ve given him.

Where was a can of Raid when you needed one?

“Criss!” she cried once again. “Criss, please open the door? Please, please, please…” it faded into a chant. The word lost meaning for her, and her tears stopped. Her lips moved, and she knew she was making a sound, but she felt numb. She felt almost like she was watching all of this from across the room, or on a television screen.

In a way, Cassandra had removed herself from the situation. She removed herself like she always did. This thought made an ice cube fall into her stomach, and Cassandra stood up.

“Criss, please? I’m so tired… Please don’t do this to me.” I don’t want to run anymore, she didn’t add. I won’t tell you everything, but I’m not going to hide from you anymore. Please just let everything you’ve told me be real.

The room was silent. She slid back down against the door and curled back up into a ball. She couldn’t go to her couch. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway. And then she heard it.

The soft click of the lock being undone.

**

Criss laid back down on his bed anxiously. Would she come in? And even if she did, what was she going to say to him? Would there be any conversation? What was going to happen?

Cassandra did come in. She shyly and quietly closed the door behind her. He didn’t bother to lift his head from the pillow to look at her. It was what she did next that left him almost breathless.

The girl kicked off her shoes and crawled onto the bed next to him. Hesitantly, she laid her head down on his chest and wound her arm around his stomach, as though expecting him to flick her off like a fly at any moment. Criss lay still, afraid any movement might frighten her.

“Don’t be angry with me.” Cassandra said softly. “I hate it so much when you’re mad at me.”

“Cassandra,” he murmured, wrapped his arm around her back. She moved her head so she was nestled in the crook of his neck. All in all, it was a perfectly comfortable place to be. Criss pressed his lips against her forehead.

“I’m so tired of running.”

“I bet,” he sighed. “You don’t have to run from me. Don’t you understand that? I’ve done everything I can to show you that I don’t—I’m not going to push you away from me. No matter what you do.”

“Even if it’s something you don’t like? Even if I do something you hate, you’re not going to push me away?”

“Never. You’re stuck with me, Cass.” He nuzzled her hair. Cass only curled closer to him.

“When you said you loved me… Did you mean it, Criss?”

“I meant it.” He whispered. “I meant every word I said to you, Cassandra. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She pressed her forehead against his for just a second before sinking back down. Why in the world did it feel so perfect to lay here in his bed?

Hammie jumped up and began purring, clearly pleased with the situation. He found a space by their feet and began to knead before curling up and settling down for the night.

“I should go.” Cass said reluctantly, not eager to leave the warmth of being there at all.

“No,” Criss stopped her by grabbing her arm again. There was urgency in it again, but a different sort. There was a sense of longing, of yearning.
“Stay with me.”

“Okay,” she lay back down, her fingers resting lightly against his stomach. Before she knew what was happening, Cassandra was asleep.
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The Beautiful Ones