[Closed] Point of No Return

[Aurelie Steerpike]

47 Roalis, 2719 - Between Breakfast and Lunch | A Brunnhold Garden

"Ouch! Bells and--"

Aurelie dropped the sample with a hiss then stuck the injured finger in her mouth. It tasted unpleasantly of iron and paint chips from the bench. One day, she really ought to get a thimble. The tips of her fingers were starting to rather too closely resemble a pincushion. Aurelie checked, and sighed with relief. She had moved fast enough to not get any of her blood on the fabric, after all. While it wouldn't be the end of the world if she had, the thing would have needed to be thrown away and she would have had to start over. The practice was going rather well, too, she thought. Better, at least, than some of her other attempts at roses. If she looked very closely, she thought she could tell that her tension was more even and her stitches too. Improvement and progress--Aurelie was pleased. Or at least she had been, right up until the moment she'd stabbed herself in the finger with her embroidery needle.

With a sigh, set her things to the side in as neat a little pile as she could manage. Concentration kept eluding her this morning. Even with the warm Roalis sun filtering so prettily through the leaves of the tree that arched over the bench itself, making everything dreamy and inviting. It was really a rather lovely day, in her own opinion. Ideal for spending a little free time with her stitching and her daydreams. The sort of day she normally found immensely soothing.

Aurelie's nerves were absolutely shot. The two facts were entirely unrelated, the balmy pleasantness of the morning and her nerves. Somehow though, the gentle sunshine so happily dappled on the grass in front of her seemed almost mocking. That pleasant breeze that shifted the leaves above her just so? Cruel and deliberate, that's what it was.

No, she had to sigh again, it wasn't the mild weather that was mocking her, it was her own mind. When Fionn had caught her at dinner the other day and asked to meet her here--what else did she think she was going to do? Say no, when that was all she wanted at that moment and most moments besides? Of course she'd agreed, and shown up earlier than asked to. Now he was a little bit late, just enough to make that anxiety reach up to grab her again. Frankly, Aurelie was tired of it. Couldn't she just wait and be bored or maybe a little annoyed like a normal person, instead of fretting about why he'd even wanted to see her in the first place and that maybe he'd changed his mind?

"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded herself, the sound of her own voice in quiet of the grove making her feel a little steadier. Even she knew she was being silly, getting worked up this way. Why on Vita would Fionn have even asked to see her, to have taken the risk, just to--what? Make her feel foolish? Change his mind and avoid her? If that was what he wanted to do, it would have been easier to avoid her generally speaking. It was easy to not run into her, really. Hadn't they managed for nearly a decade to do exactly that? So she was being absurd, and she needed to calm down, and maybe pick up her needlework again because she was doing the thing where she picked at flakes of paint on the bench just to give her hands something to do.

Aurelie did not pick her needlework back up.

Instead, she stood for a moment. Took two steps away from the bench as if to leave, then two steps back again. A few steps more. After a minute she was pacing back and forth, secure in the knowledge that she was alone and nobody would be looking at her anytime soon. She hoped. Or did she? The only person who she would expect to catch her pacing around like she'd lost her mind entirely was Fionn, and if he showed up she would stop. This was all very maddening, and she didn't much care for it. Not at all.

While she doubted he'd asked to see her just to not show up, she really didn't know what he wanted at all. To talk, he'd said, but not about what. They hadn't much time, really, at dinner. Just a quick exchange and a promise. Talking--it sounded so ominous, somehow, the longer she thought about it. Talk about what? Had something else happened? Did he want to talk about how he never wanted to see her again? She could imagine that, really. It would be easier to avoid her, of course, but perhaps he wanted to tell her to be kind. That was a thing, she thought. Absolutely.

It didn't really matter what he wanted, in the end. Aurelie would just be happy to see him, outside of the full view of every single busybody in the entire canteen. A foolish little smile worked across her face. For once, she let it bloom instead of wiping it off her face right away. After all, she was by herself, wasn't she? Surely in her own company she could be as much a fool as she liked. Fionn could just appear and leave again, she thought to herself, and she would be happy just to see his face. Oh merciful Lady--was that really a thing she just thought? Aurelie had lost her mind.

"Aurelie Steerpike, you stop this instant," she muttered sternly to herself, again out loud. Her voice was quiet enough, as she had no particular desire to alert any passers-by to her presence (not that there ever were any in this overgrown little corner). The sound was just steadying, in a perverse sort of way. "Stop pacing around like this, it isn't helping! Right. We are just going to. To sit back down. And wait. Quietly. Like normal people do. Not like a besotted idiot."

Aurelie stopped her pacing but didn't take her seat back up again. Instead she stood winding the fabric of her pinafore in her hands, feeling the fabric catch on each callous and that place where she'd cut her finger and it had scabbed over awkwardly. He was coming, wasn't it? He was just late, in a regular way? Oh, she really did hope so.

[Fionn]

Roalis 47, 2719
Between Breakfast and Lunch
A Brunnhold Garden

.

The teenager had made plans. Actually, he’d made quite a few plans, different strands that he’d tried to weave together into a much larger plan. He’d planned this day in advance, working out how to manoeuvre Keyes based on what the man had said about his own intentions for today and he’d thought that he could block out time between breakfast and lunch. It’s why he’d told Aura to meet him at this time and he’d even given himself some wiggle room.

Fionn hadn’t managed things with Keyes well at all in the end and so he was running late, questioning what else could go wrong, mentally catastrophizing as he hurried to his rendezvous, turning the bracelet in one of his pockets around and around in his hand.

It was very late in the day — figuratively speaking — to be having so many second thoughts, but he was having plenty of them. The youth kept telling himself that he’d come this far, planned things out this much and that he couldn’t turn back now but there was that treacherous desire to wiggle free. Had he considered abandoning this meeting? Yes, he had but only for a moment. He couldn’t just leave her waiting there so if he wanted to postpone things so that he could gather his thoughts then he’d have to go to see her to explain that he’d changed his mind and if he was already there then…

Besides, he still needed to talk to Aura about Niamh’s birthday and that had a time limit on it so he couldn’t put things off. He had to see her and sweet Lady, he wanted to see her but he was- he was- Fucking hell, he was so clocking nervous because the passive wanted to do things the right way but was terrified that he’d put his foot in his mouth as he so often did; it seemed inevitable.

Aura had come to see him at Keyes’ office back in Loshis with that handkerchief that she’d embroidered and he’d wanted to return the favour. The blond had struggled to think of what he could do in return, how he could hope to match the personal touch of her own gift, how he could possibly show her how much time and effort he was willing to put in for her as she had done for him. Thus, the bracelet in his pocket had been produced and he’d chosen today’s encounter as the appropriate occasion to gift it.

He had no doubt that the kitchen maid had been quite as anxious as this when she came to present her gift to him. It was strange to find their roles reversed but hopefully, she hadn’t felt like vomiting up her own heart. The young man certainly felt like doing that and more actually. Given how much his stomach was fluttering that might go flying out at any moment too. And all because the youth felt as if he was presenting something that was pathetic beyond words, impractical and in all honesty, he felt as if she’d view it as a feeble echo of what she herself had done. Furthermore, there was the worry that she might view it as a poor attempt at a bribe so the blond had determined that he’d have to ask her for the favour he wanted first and then present the bracelet after everything was settled.

If he presented it at all. He had a way out there if he could just keep his mouth shut. Keeping his mouth shut seemed like an impossibility but stranger things had happened. Besides, at his core, Fionn was a coward and the cowardly thing would be to avoid giving the bracelet to her at all. A lot of effort had gone into that bracelet, including plenty of time spent practicing weaving the strands together, especially the ivy vines. The ivy vines hadn’t been easy to work with and had actually been a literal pain at times but the servant had persisted for the sake of the symbolism. Given all that effort, it probably seemed mad to consider abandoning giving it to her altogether but he was afraid that she’d hate it. He was afraid that it would just seem as if he was following her lead.

To say that the young man’s nerves were frayed would have been an accurate statement.

As he approached their meeting spot, he slowed his pace and tried to force himself to calm down. The last thing he wanted to do was appear before her in a clear state of agitation but he didn’t like to be late for anything at the best of times and this was no such occasion given that this was no casual meeting.

Fionn took a moment to catch his breath, allowing the rhythm to fall into something more controlled and less panicked, fiddling with the collar of his shirt so that some air could circulate. The Roalis heat was making itself known even though it was still some time off from the day’s meridian and his haste hadn’t helped matters. His face was probably flushed, he could feel the light coating of perspiration on his body, and he didn’t even want to consider how visibly stained his shirt might be with it. Given that he was in sight of the overgrown garden, he decided that it was far too late to be discontinuing this venture.

Reminding himself that he wanted and needed this, the passive shoved his hands back into his pockets and strode the final steps to his destination, trying to appear nonchalant. He happened upon Aurelie muttering to herself, and he felt a twinge of guilt and panic as he wondered just how extreme his tardiness had become since he’d last had a chance to check the time.

“Did you decide to get started without me or have I interrupted an important conversation with an invisible person?” he asked by way of greeting, regretting every word that came out of his mouth the very instant that it did so.

What a clocking idiot!

The blond managed a grin, sheepishly embarrassed while his face began to burn. He stepped nearer, relaxing minutely as he felt the presence of her nexus, the familiar aura overlapping slightly with his own.

“Sorry for being late. Keyes was- Keyes is a right pain in the erse sometimes,” he explained with a roll of his eyes and a chuckle. His gaze moved swiftly to the embroidery work, registering that it was there but not really dawning on him what it was. Instead, he made more of a note of his companion’s body language, her restlessness palpable.

The youth stepped close to her, hands drawn from his pockets to hover indecisively in the air before he moved to place them around her in an awkward embrace. If she didn’t protest then he’d hug her stiffly for a few seconds before releasing her, a hand seeking the back of his neck while the other sought refuge back in his pocket.

“I-I-I missed you,” the teenager admitted quietly, feeling the blush deepen, brown eyes finding her face for a moment in an attempt to catch her eye before they slid to the bench. The embroidery.

“Oh, I like making things here as well, I actually uh- Nevermind! Uh.. shall we sit or did you want to stay hovering?”

Circle have mercy, was he going to make this terribly awkward? Undoubtedly. They were very good at having awkward interactions despite the fact that logically, they didn’t need to be so. It wasn’t as if they were strangers, not precisely. However, he had inevitably made her bracelet here and he’d almost blurted out that very fact — and he was undecided as yet about whether he’d give it to her today or not!

Settling himself on the iron bench with its rough sections of curling paint, he first set one leg over the other, foot to his thigh before unfolding them and setting his legs apart. His hands clasped together and came to dangle between his knees, his elbows set on his thighs.

“How uh… how are you? How have you b-b-been since… since… you know…”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

For all that Aurelie had been pacing back and forth waiting for Fionn's arrival specifically, by the time he actually did appear she was startled almost into yelping. This was swiftly followed by an overwhelming wave of embarassment--he had heard her and her completely moony muttering.

"H-how long have you been--er. Bells and-- N-no I just. Er. Hello." She attempted a smile, even as she started to turn rather red in the face. No more so than he was, she thought. Although Fionn looked like he had merely hurried to be here, and not like he wanted to sink into the earth beneath his feet. She kept looking, and her smile turned more genuine. Oh but she was happy to see him. Even if he had managed to catch her talking to herself, because she was a complete twit.

"I-it's okay, I was, ah. Early. Er. I mean. I just got here? Ah." Why had she said that? That made her sound... well. It made her sound exactly like what she was: an anxiety-riddled nitwit. She was still smiling though, and still happy to see him.

Somehow, the hug surprised her too. Aurelie's heart beat just a little faster, for all that it was incredibly awkward. How many times had she traced her memories of being this close in the last month? More than she cared to count. Far, far more than she'd ever admit to, that was certain. All the memories in the world just weren't as good as the real thing, not even when the embrace was stiff and both of them awkward.

"I--really? Er. I m-missed you. Also. Uhm." The blush was advancing, but Aurelie was pleased. She had been right, when she left the lab--it had been simultaneously easier and more difficult waiting for a chance to see him again. She supposed she could have found the chance herself, but it just--hadn't seemed to work out. Part of her had felt a coward, and thought that maybe she should have done so after all. But he'd missed her and--had he really? Aurelie smiled, and for once did nothing about it. It didn't even falter when he saw her embroidery practice, tentatively pleased with it as she was.

Sitting! Sitting was smart. Sitting was good. Hovering--well. She was hovering, wasn't she? She had been hovering, for... he didn't need to know how long. Aurelie wouldn't tell him. Hopefully. Aurelie watched him sit, too full of nervous energy to do so herself first. Watching him shift around, she couldn't help but laugh a little. They really made a pair, didn't they? Gracious good Lady, this didn't need to be so difficult! Sitting down and talking on a warm summer morning was not, precisely, high-stakes. Nor was it quite as--hmm, no, she didn't need to think about that. That would not help her current heart condition.

"M-making things?" Aurelie asked as she came to sit next to him, picking up her embroidery supplies as she did so. She sat near, but not too near, to him on the bench. Truthfully it wasn't large, and there wasn't far to go, but it felt oddly forward to sit close enough to... to make any kind of physical contact. Somehow. Despite last month and the lab and... And hadn't she just decided not to think about that right now? Yes! She had! Calm down, Aurelie. You are out-of-doors. Aurelie set cloth, needle and thread onto her lap, if only to give her something to fiddle with.

There, she was sitting and. And Fionn was sitting. Next to her. Aurelie took a moment just to look at him. She did so like to look at him, after all, and it had been a while. She could hardly be blamed, could she? No, she couldn't. It was his fault, for being so--so charming and pleasant to look at. Rapidly she started to feel like she was staring too much, and awkwardly looked away.

"Oh! Ah, I've been, uhm. I'm. Fine. The same. N-not--er." That made it sound like she'd spent the whole month meandering around in a grief-stricken haze, didn't it? She hadn't been, not really. "Some days have been better than others. Y-you know how things... things are." This was utterly truthful, she thought. Sometimes, she thought her grief was going to swallow her up whole. But it had been a long time since she saw her parents last, and things with her sister remained unchanged. This made it easier. Really, it was more difficult for her to contain her worry about him, and her desire to see him again, and all the things that came with it. The other kinds of sadness were more familiar, and she knew how to parcel them out into little boxes in her heart to keep them properly contained.

"A-and you? How... how are... Er. Oh Sweet Lady, I'm sorry. This shouldn't be so... Hmm." Aurelie wanted to look away, to save what little dignity she had, but she forced herself not to. Aurelie tilted her head up to look at him again, the way the sun that filtered through the trees made such pretty patterns of light and shadow on his face, and her heart untied. In a move of uncharacteristic boldness, she extended a hand into the space she'd left between them, her palm open in an invitation for Fionn to take it. If he wanted.

[Fionn]

Roalis 47, 2719
Between Breakfast and Lunch
A Brunnhold Garden

.

Frankly, it was a wonder that the two passives ever managed to have any sort of interaction without the nervous energy between them causing enough friction to make up for the lack of mona between the two. It should have been enough to generate the sort of energy that could destroy and neither of them should have been able to survive the presence of the other. By all rights, they shouldn’t be able to stand it and yet here they were, defying the odds — and the rules of course. Honestly, they were both so embarrassed around each other, it was a wonder that either of them had succeeded in interacting with the other as much as they had thus far. The fact that they had any sort of relationship at all in spite of — or maybe because of? — the embarrassment was a wonder really but perhaps there really was something magical about self-consciousness.

She’d arrived early, he’d been afraid of that and it made him feel so much worse. How much longer had the intervening time seemed to her, how many extra seconds of anxiety had she had to endure, getting worse with each passing moment? He wondered if she’d considered that he might not come. Gods, he couldn’t believe how close he’d come to doing just that and if she only knew-

But he was here and they were here together for the first time in weeks, seated close together while Fionn did his utmost not to fidget. Once she sat down beside him, he shifted around again, leaning back and setting an elbow on the back of the bench, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry that I kept you waiting but uh… at least you had a chance to uh… work on your embroidery? I-I-It’s lovely by the way,” the teenager remarked, doing his best to evade answering the question about what he chose to make here, or at the very least, put it off until he had a chance to think of something clever to say in response. Something that fit without giving away what he had made here most recently of all. Even thinking about it seemed to make the woven band weigh more heavily in his pocket, digging into him through the thin layer of fabric. He had to resist shifting it around so that it was less intrusive, certain that if he did so then she’d notice it for sure.

“I uh… I make art. You know. I draw a-a-and stuff. You’ve uh… seen me- I don’t make things the w-w-way you do. I d-d-don’t have that kind of sk-skill for one. I can sew after… after a fashion but uh… I definitely can’t… do that.”

His hand waved over her embroidery, trying not to stare at it, even if it allowed him to avoid her gaze. The idea wasn’t to make her feel self-conscious about her decorative stitches.

Clock it! Should he just drop the bracelet in her lap and make his excuses about how it wasn’t much but he’d made it with his own hands? Should he get it out of the way instead of being left to feel as if he was sitting on a secret that threatened to burst out at any moment? Perhaps he’d be able to relax a bit more if he handed it over or maybe he’d utterly ruin the mood and be unable to ask her for the favour he wanted.

There should probably be a bit more preamble than ‘I’m awkward so here’s a thing’ and a band dropped into her lap. At the very least, the young man could make small talk first, even if he wasn’t very good at it.

Not that it counted as small talk when they got into the topic of grief, his expression growing sombre. This was hardly the sort of lighthearted topic you wanted on a summer’s day but the passive had started this, he’d asked after all but what else could he have done? You were meant to ask how someone had been, that was the point of small talk and the last time they’d spoken, things had been less than cheery.

“I know how it is… yeah,” he admitted softly, morose gaze shifting sideways to try to meet her own, the boy offering a small, sympathetic smile. “Some days can be all right but others… it hits you. Hard.”

Yes, some days were better than others. He didn’t have to tell her that and he didn’t have to tell her how things had been for him. There was no need for the kitchen maid to know the sorts of things that came to him in the night, the horrors that visited him when he closed his eyes. Not all of those things were Lars of course but he was there often enough. And sometimes he was there when he opened his eyes in the night and had to muffle his grief as he curled around his pillow and sobbed until his face ached, all while trying not to wake Jamie.

No, she didn’t need to know about that.

“What? It shouldn’t be so hard? Yeah, well… it is,” he mumbled, shifting his elbow from the back of the bench as he scooted a little closer to her, reaching across his body to take her hand. She’d offered it, something deep in her gaze suggesting that she needed it, needed the contact that she seemed to have so carefully avoided thus far between them, and thus, he didn’t think that he’d read her incorrectly. She’d left her hand right there for him to take. However, she hadn’t invited him to stretch his other arm along the back of the bench behind her, tentatively nudging it closer so that he could drape it over her shoulders if she didn’t protest.

“I’m all right, Aura. Really. I’m trying not to dwell on things that are past-” Clocking liar! “-and focus on the future instead,” he explained, wiggling subtly on the bench. It was uncomfortable, that was it. There was no other reason for him to feel this way obviously, it was all the bench’s fault. It probably hadn’t been that comfortable when it was new and now that it had aged and had a chance to wear and be ill-maintained, it was even less so.

“Speaking of which, that’s why I wanted to talk to you actually. It’s uh… it’s Niamh’s birthday in a few days — the fifty-second — and she’s on campus because she’s graduating this year and- No, nevermind that, that’s not important. The point is that she’ll be on campus and um… she’ll be twenty-one, which isn’t an important milestone or anything but I hadn’t reconnected with her when she turned twenty last year and uh… what was the point of this again?”

Blond brows tugged together tightly in puzzlement, the youth’s eyes rolling upwards before flicking from side to side. Abruptly, he lit up, recalling where he’d been going.

“I wanted to surprise her for her birthday. So I had some uh… had some words with Professor Moore and we can arrange things to happen in Laboratory Beta. Not the usual sort of place a young woman celebrates her birthday, I’m sure but then no one can think it strange when passives- She wouldn’t want a big public fuss anyway. I don’t know if you’d… you’d be able to come—if you’d want to come—but it’d just be me and uh Harper and um Niamh. And you obviously if you can—if you want—and uh…”

This didn’t seem to be framed very well. Not for what he wanted to ask. This just sounded like a plain old invitation and while he’d like Aurelie to come that wasn’t really what he’d asked her here for.

“But uh… we’d need a cake and uh…”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Lovely! Fionn had said her embroidery was lovely. A sort of pleased fluster came over her. It was all she could do not to insist that it wasn't, in fact, lovely at all--Aurelie had never really learned to take a compliment. She made a little hum of acknowledgement instead, followed by a renewed smile. She resisted, too, the urge to immediately put it away into her pocket, out of sight and out of mind. Of course she had been rather pleased with it herself, but it was one thing for her to be able to see her own improvement and quite another to hear him say something nice about it. She was so, so happy she hadn't gotten any of her blood on it when she stabbed her finger. Now she couldn't ever get rid of it.

"I didn't know you could sew." She was a little surprised--it wasn't a skill many men were in possession of, although she supposed it was probably more common among the passive population than at large. Mending and so on--hard to bring it to a woman to do for you, if you weren't supposed to speak to them. Like they were doing right now. "Oh but--d-don't worry, you didn't make me wait. I, er. It was fine." She didn't want him to think she'd been doing exactly what she had been doing: fretting anxiously the entire time, thinking to herself it was likely he'd never come at all.

After all, she did a rather good job of bringing down the room even without that sort of topic. She hadn't meant to bring up--anything they'd been worried about, last they spoke. The opposite, in fact, she'd meant to--to reassure, she supposed. Bells and chimes! Couldn't she just have said "I'm well, thank you" like a normal person? Answer what was, she was sure, just a sort of polite question with a perfectly functional answer? She had genuinely wanted to know how he'd been though--not a polite question, but a real one. If Fionn's answer was more or less what one could expect, that was good. After a fashion.

What was even better was that he took the hand she held out, even moving a little closer to do so. Aurelie had left a space between them not because she wanted it there, but because it had seemed more appropriate at the time. She threaded her fingers through his and moved to better accomodate the arm he draped over her shoulders. That was... yes, this was good. Was she supposed to be so pleased by this? There was nothing she could do about it as usual. Her heart beat a little faster in her breast. Not too awkward then, being here. Or at least it wasn't so much so that it put him off. Which was good, very good. The best, actually. Aurelie hesitated a moment, then leaned against him. It was more difficult to look at him while he spoke this way, but it was more comfortable. Also, he was warm and nice and--well. It was more comfortable. That was the important part. Not the. Not the rest of it.

Aurelie did her best to follow the tangle of Fionn's point as he spoke, her head leaning up against him so that she felt the vibration of his voice as much as heard it. This time, and she had scolded herself quite sternly on the subject while waiting for his arrival, she had to listen to everything he was actually saying and not get distracted by how much she liked listening to him say it. Something about Niamh, and graduation, and her birthday... Well, she felt a little bit better about not quite understanding where he was going with his point because he didn't either.

This is very cute, she thought when his face lit up. She still wasn't quite sure where he was going with all of this, but it was very charming. And she was listening! She was! Somehow she didn't think he'd called her out here to--to invite her to his sister's birthday... Was it a party, if it was only three people? It could be, she supposed. It wasn't like she'd had a birthday party--or a birthday of any kind, really--in... well. Since she got here. So maybe a party was three people, what would she know?

There was a span of time where she paused, trying to sort out everything he'd said and come up with what it all actually meant. When it dawned on her, she couldn't help but giggle, ever so slightly. "Do you want my help with making your sister a cake, Fionn? I'd be happy to help. Of course I will. Er, although..." she couldn't help but think Fionn's invitation had come from himself alone. "It is very sweet of you to invite me, but, uhm, I don't think. I don't know as Niamh would, ah. Well I don't think she hates me but--er. Don't you usually want people you... l-like, at your birthday? I wouldn't know, I suppose, but that... that seems to be the done thing. Er. From. Observation." Could she have phrased that any more gracelessly? Well, Aurelie was fairly sure she could if she really wanted to--if she was good at anything, it was being graceless in conversation. At least she could ask about the cake itself. She knew cake, if not birthdays.

"What sort of thing would she like? And if it's just the three of you, should it be... small-ish? Is she sensitive to any kinds of foods? And--do you want decoration? I'm a fair enough hand with a piping bag, but I do confess anything complicated isn't my strong suit... You'd probably do a better job than I would with most things, er..." Aurelie's questions were rapid-fire, her interest immediately caught up in thinking about just what sort of cake Niamh's birthday called for. If she weren't so interested in the answers, she might have paused to consider that her onslaught of sudden questions might be overwhelming. But she was, so she didn't.

[Fionn]

Roalis 47, 2719
Between Breakfast and Lunch
A Brunnhold Garden

.

She seemed pleased with his casual compliment so he certainly didn’t regret voicing it but he did regret mentioning himself and the topic of sewing in the same sentence. It was ludicrous really but she appeared oddly delighted to hear that he could sew, as if he has declared that he could do something truly astounding, some talent that she hadn’t realised that he possessed. He flushed darker, lightly tanned face now a rather vibrant shade of pink. Why should she be so pleased and oddly impressed by something so simple and ordinary considering what she could do? And for all of it’s supposed simplicity, Fionn couldn’t very well sew at all!

“Oh no, I mean… I really can’t. Well, I can but it’s really- I can sew after a fashion. It’s more… I can thread a needle and I can put it through material and make… some… stitches. I know there are different kinds and you use them for repairing different things but what I do… it’s an ugly mess. It might hold things together but… honestly, the hole probably looks better,” he admitted, feeling the heat billow off his face, contrasting with the cooler air that he’d encountered since entering the garden.

The young man had regrets, especially as she felt almost certain that she was going to tell him that she was sure it wasn’t that bad. He could envision it perfectly, his companion trying to make him feel better about his shoddy stitch work but clock the Circle, she hadn’t seen it or she’d understand. It certainly fit a purpose and it didn’t tend to unravel, which was unsurprising given how many times he must tether each strand in place but it certainly shouldn’t be boasted about.

This was definitely one of those times where he’d allowed his tongue to work independently from his brain, using its own initiative to communicate with the outside world instead of awaiting the necessary permissions and guidance from its boss. He currently wanted to rip the blasted thing out for mentioning sewing because this was just like it, giving information that it shouldn’t and moulding Aurelie’s opinion of it. However, for once he couldn’t be entirely chagrined, not when his compliment had brought her so much evident pleasure and that had been entirely unprompted! Maybe he shouldn’t always blame his tongue for being so damned inconvenient but at the same time, he couldn’t allow it to run around — figuratively speaking, of course — saying things on his behalf, running amok; it was far too dangerous.

Better to talk with his hands, to convey what tenderness he could in some hand holding and embracing, happy to allow her to lean against him as well because it was exceedingly pleasant, even if he did worry that she’d feel the drumbeat of his heart. Yes, he was much better at talking with his hands, not that could be said to be entirely awful with his mouth. He was good with his hands and mouth in one particular sort of situation, one that he had a fair bit of confidence in usually. That situation certainly wasn’t now. They weren’t doing that now. He wasn’t thinking about it now either.

Okay, so he was trying not to think about it. Now really wasn’t a good time for that, not while he was trying to have a normal conversation and they were practically in public. Sure, no one was likely to see them and people didn’t tend to come here all that often but they could and while he didn’t think that Aura would have any objections to such activity-

For the love of the Lady, stop thinking so much! he chided himself, well aware that his pulse had picked up for reasons besides his rambling conversation or how comfortably his companion was leaning against him.

Could he not just keep his mind on cake please? Cake was a safe topic! There could be nothing stimulating about the topic of cake. If there was excitement, well… it would be excitement at the prospect of sugar, surely?

When her giggle came, he started, sure to have gone redder if it had been possible at this point.

“What? Oh yes, uh… I can bake but uh… I wouldn’t- Sorry, you speak first,” he interjected, cutting himself off when he realised that she had more to say. If she hadn’t been leaning against her the way that she was, he may have tilted her face up to look at him but instead he found himself frowning at the top of her head as she spoke.

The teenager couldn’t deny that she had a point but he didn’t know how to respond with the right amount of delicacy. If he said that his sister didn’t really have anyone, it would not only make her sound sad and lonely — and she was that as it happened — but it would also sound as if Aurelie was there to fill a gap, a body to make things less awkward. That… honestly wasn’t wrong, especially as now he considered it, he didn’t fancy the idea of being in the same room as Niamh and Harper together when there was no work involved. They wouldn’t mean to be distracted by one another but he supposed that it would happen. He wasn’t inviting Aurelie simply because he wanted to avoid being an unwanted third in a couple but rather he’d thought it would be nice. And it wasn’t as if his sister disliked the kitchen maid. She didn’t really know her but she knew that Fionn cared about her, so much so that she had brought her to the lab in an effort to cheer him up.

While the youth turned phrasing over in his head, his companion began asking all sorts of questions about the cake and he had to try to keep up. It was a lot, especially as he was already pretty distracted at the moment and she was firing questions at him while he tried to process his own thoughts. He’d already had thoughts on this, and what he wanted. He’d considered how to present this to her and everything but now that the time had come, he wasn’t doing too well.

“Okay right, uh… I think that Niamh... would like to get to know you,” he explained slowly, nodding along to his own words. Yes, that sounded good and convincing. It sounded perfectly reasonable. “She doesn’t hate you, no. She just… isn’t sure of you. She doesn’t tend to be very sure of most people to be honest. I think she’d appreciate another uh… female presence.”

He licked his lips, mulling over the many questions she’d thrown at him, working his way through them mentally and carefully lining up his words so that they’d come out in some sort of sensical order.

“But cake, yes. I was wondering if you’d make a cake because I’m sure that you could uh… get away with it. If I tried, I’m sure a Patron or Matron would get um… upset. But also… I was hoping to do some decorating and it… probably wouldn’t go down well. I do want it iced on top but I also wanted to be able to… uh… write on it,” he explained to the canopy of leaves above their heads. “So you’d have to smuggle out… a cake… and a piping bag.”

No, it didn’t sound any less outrageous when he said it out loud. It had seemed a bit moony when he thought about it in the first place honestly. Now it also sounded like trouble. He really was a bad influence. That bad influence hadn’t started with cake but he didn’t know that that made it much better, this being a more innocent venture.

“A lemon cake because she’s strange- I mean, I don’t like it but other people do and they aren’t strange just because I don’t like it — not really but I don’t know. I don’t know that children are meant to like lemon cake and she did. Maybe she doesn’t like it anymore but… I imagine that she does and if it was subtle- I don’t actually know now that I think- I’m sure lemon would be- I’m sure she’s not picky just because I am although I’m really not that-”

The youth paused, taking a breath, wondering how she was supposed to have made any sense of that rambling. Also he’d been sure that things were more orderly in his head but he’d started talking and somehow he’d gotten to the end of the matter before the middle.

Humming for a moment, Fionn mentally ticked points off, speaking more slowly, taking more care with his words.

“Would you please make a small lemon cake for my sister? She isn’t sensitive to anything as far as I know. I’d do it myself but I wouldn’t be able to get away with it. I don’t want you to get in trouble either so if it’s too much to ask for you to get a piping bag for me then… the cake alone would be great. I just… wanted to be able to write something because I want to feel like I’m doing something but if I can’t well…”

The boy shrugged.

“It’d probably be awful. I haven’t had loads of practice writing and uh… things are more awkward with a piping bag and well, it’s probably more awkward anyway because I have a hard time writing because I’m left-handed so I write and then I have to try not to smear anything by leaning on it by mistake. Drawing is easier because I can go the right way- Not right as in right but I can start on the right and go left or- Oh Alioe forgive me, I’m sorry, Aura. I just- I’ll stop talking now, I’m so sorry.”

Blessed Lady, could he not talk like a normal person instead of just spewing words in her direction like a clocking fool?

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Aurelie wasn't quite sure if Fionn was just being modest or if he was really as poor a hand with a needle and thread as he claimed. He'd mentioned it, so she thought it was likely he was just being modest, except he was also, well. Just talking an awful lot. So it was possible it just sort of slipped out. As this happened to her frequently, she was not without empathy for the latter scenario. For a second, she thought of offering to show him how. But if he was just being modest, wasn't that insulting? Actually, even if he wasn't, she wasn't a particularly deft hand herself. Fancywork was one thing, but actual sewing... She could do light mending, yes, and some small alterations--she often had to hem her skirts so they didn't drag on the ground, she was so short--but nothing more sensible than that. So perhaps even ]if he wasn't just being modest, an amateur like herself offering to teach him would be insulting. Not that this had stopped her from offering to show Allie, but--the other girl had yet to take her up on that, so it was possible she had been insulting then too. Instead of making the offer and possible insult, she just tucked the information away to be brought up at a future time.

"W-well, I'm sure you're not that--er. Most men can't even... well. Ah. Hmm." Yes, that was a sentence. Really stuck that landing.

After the volume of questions she had asked, it wasn't any wonder he had to stop and work a bit backwards in the conversation. And there she'd been thinking that he was talking a lot--she certainly wasn't being particularly reserved in that regard herself? Under normal circumstances, Aurelie would consider herself somewhat reserved. Not silent, to be sure, but she tended not to make an effort to initiate or continue conversations beyond the boundaries of pleasantries. More than that was often just... tiring, and Aurelie never knew what to say either. She tried, generally, to be friendly, but actual conversation with the other women she saw regularly was a rare thing indeed. They hadn't much in common beyond their situation, she supposed. She theorized she saved up most of her conversational energy to unleash on the few unsuspecting victims she did actually want to speak to--in this case, Fionn.

Did she even count as "another female presence"? Aurelie made a noise of polite acknowledgement. If Niamh wanted to get to know her, Aurelie would be more shocked than anyone. There had been, she supposed, a moment where it seemed like maybe that could be true. Aurelie thought of Niamh's hands. Whatever was between the two women wasn't animosity, not really. Maybe Niamh didn't feel as strange about it as she did. Or maybe she felt even stranger about it. There was something distinctly uncomfortable, Aurelie thought, about a relationship that only existed because she wanted to kiss the student's brother on the mouth. Often. Not that this was all she wanted, or that--oh no. No, that wasn't where her mind needed to go. Think of Niamh. Niamh! And cake. For Niamh!

Were Aurelie pressed, she would have admit she wanted to make the cake for Niamh not so much for her own sake or because it was easier for her to do it without getting in trouble, but because she wanted to show off a little bit. Fionn said he could have done it, and she did suppose that would have been the more meaningful thing, but Aurelie really only had the one skill. Could she really be blamed for wanting to exhibit it, just a little? It wasn't like she could give him any of her other experiments, really. They met too infrequently. Still, she made a mental note--the next time she knew she was going to see him, she would bring him... something.

"I'm happy to leave the decorating to you," she said, amused fondness warming her voice. She tried to look at him then, but he was looking up at the trees above them. That was for the best, really, letting him do that part. She could do a sort of flat surface for him to write on, and fill a fine-pointed piping bag for him to do the rest. Although... Aurelie frowned, trying to consider how he would get it to do the final touches.

"I don't think--I can say it's for a student, because it is, and I think that would be... fine. Normally, we don't--do things like this, but she is a research assistant... Do you think it would be, er, out of line to say that Professor Moore...?" Aurelie wasn't sure what the relationship between Niamh and the professor was. It was quite possible they didn't get along, famously so, and saying that it was his request would be proven for a lie immediately. To her, that seemed the most logical option. A lie she maybe, perhaps, could even tell successfully. There was only the one little element of untruth to it, after all. There was also the possibility that nobody would even ask. Although she would have to do it outside of regular work hours. Already she was planning how best to arrange her schedule so it seemed natural, what meals she could skip to use the time for preparation.

Left-handed, and doesn't care for lemon cake. Another couple of little facts to tuck away. She had a little treasury of them at this point, really. Had she already known it was left-handed? She might have. His opinion on lemon cake was assuredly new, though, and the difficulties that left-handedness presented. Aurelie wouldn't have thought of that--that being left-handed made writing more difficult--but she took note of it in her mind. Fionn at last came to a stuttering kind of halt, and Aurelie's mouth curved into a smile. She tilted her pale, freckled face up to look at him better.

"You can talk all you want. I don't mind. You get there in the end." Was that teasing? Maybe a little. The girl meant it though. She didn't mind, because she liked listening to him even if she had to pick her way through the winding path his words were taking to figure out where they had gone.

"I would be happy to make, as requested, a small lemon cake for your sister's birthday. And I can fill a bag for you to do the writing on it. How... how can I get it to you, though? I could..." Aurelie chewed her lip thoughtfully. There seemed to her a few options, and she wasn't sure which was best. She had never tried something like this, after all. "I could either, er, well I could... I could bring the whole thing to the lab myself, perhaps...? Or give it to--my roommate might be able to deliver it, if I ask her. Er. Although I don't know how I'd... I don't know how I'd explain it to her."

Aurelie hadn't mentioned Fionn to Allie--she hadn't mentioned Fionn to anyone, because she wasn't completely stupid. Despite all appearances. Lying to Allie was slightly more difficult than lying to other people, as she saw her every day and had already failed spectacularly to do so more than once. So if that was the best path to take in terms of the actual delivery, some... explanations might be in order. How her taciturn roommate would take such explanations was a mystery. There was also the question of if Fionn would be comfortable with her doing so. It wasn't her secret alone to explain, and without knowing how Allie would react, she couldn't promise him any measure of security. Betrayal from Alethea seemed unlikely--she didn't seem the most talkative--but honestly, Aurelie barely knew the girl. So she would let him decide the best path to take on the delivery front.

[Fionn]

Roalis 47, 2719
Between Breakfast and Lunch
A Brunnhold Garden

.

The servant regretted mentioning his poor sewing ability at all. It was embarrassing how eager she seemed to heap praise on him that he most assuredly did not deserve. Actually, that wasn’t entirely the right emotion; Fionn felt oddly ashamed. He felt as if he had taken undue credit for something and now he would have to burst Aurelie’s bubble by admitting that he wasn’t that impressive after all. He didn’t want to be a disappointment to her. Actually, it was rather ridiculous but the notion that he might not measure up to her expectations not only frightened him but mortified him as well in a way that he… couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as if being unworthy of the pedestal she’d placed him on would emasculate him somehow. The passive would be quick to admit that his thoughts on his own masculinity — and masculinity in general — were probably a bit odd compared to the general view. For one thing, he appreciated typically feminine characteristics in men, especially in looks. Gods, he really couldn’t resist a pretty man. The blond knew that he could be classed as such himself and he’d often taken pleasure in that, his vanity definitely having made him examine himself with some degree of pride.

There were plenty of traits that he thought were associated with men, ones that he himself did not possess and that was fine with him. He had never felt that his manhood was in doubt— well, that wasn’t strictly true, he’d certainly wondered about it in relation to his sexuality, especially with certain men with power over him but that had been different. In those instances, it hadn’t simply been his masculinity that was in doubt but his personhood. He had connected masculinity with power in those circumstances and in his case, his own had been lacking because he was powerless. He didn’t feel powerless now so why did he feel… threatened?

Was this pride? Was this… something connected with the sort of posturing that men did in front of women to catch and keep their attention? He’d seen it with the galdori but many of them were idiots; they certainly seemed like idiots. Then again, what did he know about relationships with women? He only had observation to go on. His parents weren’t a good example; they’d been rather cool towards each other, he recalled and even then that was a vague remembrance. The nearest heterosexual relationship he’d observed was between Niamh and Harper, primarily from his sister’s side at that and she was always so enthused about the man’s capabilities and seemed to have pride in them — and him — as well.

What was more, despite her many boasts about him — and by gosh, she really did love to boast about her Professor Moore — it was clear that he always managed to live up to her expectations — and more!

Clocking hell, was that it? Was he scared of being less than Aurelie believed him to be because he was comparing himself to how his sister regarded Harper fucking Moore?

Sweet Lady, he must be clocking moony but… he really did care about whether he lived up to what the kitchen maid saw in him?

His face had definitely had a chance to cool down a bit but now? Now it was definitely blossoming with red again, his embarrassment clear to see although Aurelie might only think it was on account of his rambling. Let her think that it was on account of the rambling. That was definitely awkward but perhaps not enough to be flushing the entirety of his face. He had to resist the urge to fan himself; that certainly wouldn’t make it any less conspicuous.

Her face tilted up towards his and a teasing little remark fell from her lips, the delicious little smile and the mischievous glint in her gaze making it clearer that there was a taunt there.

Well!

“Oi! Sod off! At least I get there in the end!” he huffed, evidently trying to appear cross but failing miserably as he found himself unable to stop a grin from creeping onto his face. He shifted the arm that was draped across her shoulders, pinching her lightly on the arm to punctuate his next words. “And you’re one to talk! You only get to the end some of the time.”

It was meant to be teasing but was it too cruel a jab? He wasn’t wrong, of course, but that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t sting more than he intended. The youth considered apologising but chose to bite his tongue instead. Let her respond as she would. Hopefully not upset. He’d feel truly awful if he’d struck too low a blow by hitting on the truth. The young man attempted to provide something of an apology if he’d hurt her or soften his words if they’d been a little too sharp by stroking using the hand that had so recently pinched her to graze along her jawline.

“What I was going to say is that you can still do decorating just… leave enough for me to write on — if you can manage to get it to me,” Fionn pointed out, settling his arm back around her shoulders, relaxed. If she didn’t protest then he’d let his hand drift to the girl’s hair, idly curling strands around his fingers. Frowning thoughtfully, he considered how the delivery could take place.

A roommate? A roommate who had the freedom to bring such a cake to him? A roommate who could potentially… approach boys? Was that what the redhead was talking about? Did she have a roommate like that? Even if she did, the question of what to tell said roommate…

His hand left her hair in favour of rubbing at the back of his neck instead. Yes, he understood what she meant by explanations; Aurelie wondered how to explain Fionn.

“I appreciate what you’re willing to do for me—for Niamh. I uh… If anybody asks, you can say that you have Moore’s permission. I have his permission so you have his by extension. I couldn’t throw a surprise party that was a surprise to all of the galdori involved,” he pointed out with a nervous chuckle. “They definitely… don’t get on poorly. I’m sure people are aware that they are, erm… friendly.”

This time, it was a snigger, less nervous and certainly more amused. There was something secretive about it, something knowing. His companion didn’t know about the sort of relationship that the pair of galdori had but Fionn was in the know.

Fingers threaded through blond locks as he hummed uncertainly.

“I don’t know what you can tell your roommate. If she’s in the position to deliver it… anywhere? Well, if she can do that then it’d be good if she brought it to… well, I suppose it should be Keyes’ office. Less chance of Niamh being there. At least then it’s for a galdor so… uh… well, I suppose that you still have to explain why you know to bring it there. I know that you and lying… well…”

Allowing that sentence to hang significantly, he turned his gaze down towards her face. For a moment, he admired her freckles, a small fond smile twitching up his lips.

“You’d never manage to tell her that we’re… friends, would you? It… it wouldn’t be a lie but uh… If you need to tell her something, could you say that we’re only friends rather than uh… uhm… being, erm…”

Oh Circle save him, he couldn’t think of what word to use. It was weird to find himself close to saying something aloud, defining their relationship in a rather… casual way to be honest. But gods help him, he couldn’t choose one. He could only splutter and blush, heat billowing off his face. And maybe there was a pleading look in his eyes.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Aurelie's face got hot, the response to her teasing striking a little close to home. If he hadn't been smiling at her when he said it, she might have been genuinely hurt. Lady knew that listening to her talk was a trial. It was a miracle to her that he subjected himself to it voluntarily and repeatedly, to be quite honest. At least what he was saying was usually interesting, or had a point at all. Aurelie was often just talking before she had succeeded in doing any thinking, and lost the trail of it before she got too far. It was something she was just the teeny tiniest bit sensitive about.

Before the hurt could really register and worm its way too deeply into her heart, all thoughts of her conversational inadequacies were driven quite successfully out of her head by the touch of his hand along her jaw. Most other thoughts fled with that one. Aurelie was trying very hard to think about Niamh and cake, appropriate thoughts for being out-of-doors and not in private, not really, but it was proving difficult. Her traitorous heart was beating faster and drawing her attention away from what she was meant to be focusing on.

Had that been a disappointed little sigh when Fionn's arm moved back to its original position across her shoulders? No, it couldn't have been, because that would be absurd. Aurelie wasn't willing to entertain the idea that this had been exactly what she'd done. And it absolutely didn't turn into something more pleased when his hand drifted to her hair again.

"I really do like it when you--er." Had she started to say that out loud? She had. It had been quiet, a murmur more than anything, but she had definitely started to say out loud how much she appreciated it when he did that. Please, please, let him not have heard. Maybe the warm summer breeze could just. Carry her voice away, and it would be like she never said it. That certainly was a thing that happened, wasn't it? Yes. Yes it was.

What were they talking about? Cake decorating, yes. She would leave the bulk of the decoration up to him, and just do the basics. That was for the best--she had no real artistic eye, she thought. Her focus with food was always on how it tasted more than how it looked. What else had there been, before her mind went--somewhere it shouldn't? Decoration and... Decoration and transport. She had volunteered Alethea without really thinking about it, although she had no idea how she was going to explain their... relationship to her roommate. If he wanted to go that route, that is. She could certainly bluff her way through explaining to a matron why she was making the cake in the first place if she could invoke Professor Moore. She didn't really understand what he was giggling about over there, talking about his sister's relationship with the professor. She raised one red eyebrow, but didn't ask. Surely he wasn't implying--well. There were stranger things. Niamh was an adult, after all. Of marriageable age. But still... a professor? She hadn't met Professor Moore, so she supposed it would remain a mystery.

Yes, this was why she'd asked--the issue of her and lying. It wasn't that she didn't try. Really, she did. The advice he gave her months ago was still in the back of her mind somewhere, even. It was just that the truth tended to tumble off the end of her tongue before she could cram it back behind her teeth where it belonged. There was nothing to be done for it. Her mind got no say in the issue, it was all her wayward tongue.

"Uhm. Friends. Yes, I. Uhm. Not a lie, er." Her voice pitched up on the word "friends". Aurelie's heart moved somewhere into the region of her throat. Why did she have to be looking directly at him when he started this thought? Rather than being what? What did he think they were? Aurelie had been blushing before, a seemingly permanent state when they were together, but she rapidly became absolutely incandescent. It crept up the back of her neck and the tips of her ears, blooming across her whole entire face.

What did she want him to say? Aurelie wasn't sure. She didn't even know what she would have said. Friends seemed--not quite right. But they were friends. Weren't they? Yes. They were! If she had any friends at all, Fionn was definitely one of them. The thing was, Aurelie did have some friends. Female friends, mostly, and it wasn't quite the same. Not... not entirely different, either, but. Oh, bells and chimes. She should just ask. A part of her wanted her not to, was trying very hard to convince her that she wouldn't like the answer if she did. But maybe she would? Oh, why had he started saying it and then stopped! Why did she have to be looking at him when he did it? Now she couldn't look away, and if he looked pleading, she looked like she might throw up from anxiety, all green around the edges.

"R-rather than... uhm... what?" Oh, she wanted to be ill. Why had she asked? What was she hoping to hear? Anything she could think of seemed awfully presumptuous on her part. She knew how she felt, and she knew he... he liked her. She just didn't know what that meant, really. Could she--could she take the question back? Just cram it back in her mouth, and they could pretend he'd never heard it, and she wouldn't have to be crushed when he said they were just friends after all?

[Fionn]

Roalis 47, 2719
Between Breakfast and Lunch
A Brunnhold Garden

.

Fionn didn’t catch her mutter about the hair petting. If he had, he would have been pleased but he would also have shyly reminded her that he liked having his hair touched. She ought to remember that given that they had talked about it that time in Keyes’ office, the day that she brought the handkerchief. The day that they first kissed, had properly made out in fact and he had confided some of his likes to her.

However, he missed the murmur and so it went sadly unsaid. Instead, the next time they engaged properly with one another was when Fionn tried to nail down what their relationship was, finding himself balanced precariously on a metaphorical cliff edge, which he’d damn near run off before he had a chance to realise that he was near to it.

The young man pulled up short, teetering, perhaps visibly so. At the very least, his face must have shown the truth of his predicament, the struggle that should have remained purely internal but which was leaking out of every available outlet. If he’d had a field then the turmoil would likely have felt smothering to Aura but as it was, it must have been damn near palpable.

Friends?

His companion repeated his words but there was an upwards pitch, almost a question. Maybe it was pained, slightly incredulous as if to say ‘Is that all we are?’

No, the answer was no. Fionn knew that, of course he did. They clearly weren’t simply friends. But godsbedamned, he couldn’t say what they were. The passive hadn’t properly defined it in his head so how could he expect to say it aloud? What was more, what he’d come up with might sound okay inside the privacy of his own head but would sound utterly ridiculous coming out of his mouth.

She was his Aura. What they were together, he didn’t know, he simply knew what she was to him. Definition to be expanded probably. He hoped so.

The blond couldn’t pinpoint when Lars had become his Lars but that had been a similar situation to this one. Oh, they certainly weren’t the same, the two relationships certainly couldn’t be measured by the same metrics but there were parallels. His Lars and yet he hadn’t thought of him as if he owned him — far from it. It was more accurate to say that the man had owned Fionn, or at least part of him. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had laid claim to a piece of the teenager although the Hessean’s had been a far more subtle conquest, a gentler one and perhaps that was why he’d managed to get so much more than Ayden had despite all the years of trying. In truth, he’d had a controlling share, which was why Fionn had turned on the first man he’d ever loved, or rather thought he’d loved — if such a twisted feeling could be given such a moniker. The blond could say that he loved—had loved—Lars, producing something in him that was purer and cleaner than anything he’d ever felt for Ayden. It had made him soar higher when things were good, made him sink lower when things were bad. It was what had driven him down to such levels of despair, of grief, which even now hadn’t diminished although it came in different forms, shifting and changing, mutating so that it could always manage to strike him unawares and unprepared, defenceless as it struck him anew in some novel form. Some new hell.

And yet despite all that, he couldn’t define what they had been to each other. ‘Lovers’ had seemed woefully inaccurate, even before he’d been able to think of his regard for him as love because their physical relationship hadn’t fit what he understood that word to mean. So they hadn’t been that. It wasn’t clear at all what they had been. However, the passive couldn’t comfortably apply the label of ‘friends’, even as some pale interpretation of their relationship. Himself and Lars couldn’t have been deemed that much and yet… he had felt that they had had more, as if they’d simply skipped that level.

He hadn’t known Aurelie that long but she could at least fit that label. Admittedly, he hadn’t had many friends so it was as tricky a discrimination to make as any other. Perhaps he’d never really had any before, Fionn didn’t know but whatever she was, she was no ordinary friend. Like Lars, she had managed to creep into his heart, claiming some ownership of a part of him although she was no doubt unaware of it. Honestly, it was a wonder at this rate that he had any piece that still belonged to himself, his heart — perhaps his very soul — divvied up between these people who had made such a lasting impact on his life that if they went away…

Well, he was fairly sure that the agony of bereavement that he felt for his former roommate was true bereavement; something was gone, a gaping hole left in its place. Something that hadn’t begun to heal and might not ever heal fully, like a weeping ulcer.

If something happened to Aurelie, would he feel the same? Did that come because of caring for someone or was it stronger than that — due to love?

No.

He didn’t know.

Ayden had left ugly scars behind him, all over the place in all honesty but nothing open and weeping in his heart and he had felt… quite a connection for him. At one point, the youth might have actually been willing to die for him.

He had taken the brunt of trouble and the resulting punishment on the kitchen maid’s behalf but he hadn’t- it hadn’t been like-

Past relationships didn’t seem to be a good point of comparison, especially as he hadn’t succeeded in defining them either.

She had no idea how much he was struggling here. His gaze was pleading because he was begging her to help him, to take pity on him, either by providing the answer that he needed or by leaving the matter alone.

She couldn’t leave it alone though.

The young woman’s gaze didn’t leave his and gods help him, he couldn’t look away. Her eyes drew him in but they also burned their way into him, an agony of indecision and query in that bright green gaze placing him in a state of burning torment like an insect in the path of a focused sunbeam. It was a wonder that the young man didn’t writhe. He did squirm a little where he sat though, which was a pale representation of what he was going through.

“Well, we’re um. Uh. That is uhm…”

Was he sweating? He felt as if he should be sweating. Surely that was the prickle of moisture on his face, squeezed out by the superheating of his blood. The blush must have crept its way down his neck, maybe even extended to some point lower on his body. In reality, his neck had flushed, patchy red on his throat, blotches splattered across the protuberance that bobbed up and down as he swallowed spasmodically.

He licked his lips but they were dry. His mouth was dry actually, not furry, but more… thick. It didn’t make talking impossible, uncomfortable certainly but he didn’t need any physical sensation in order to achieve that right now.

“We a-a-aren’t friends! No, we are- I- Uh- What I mean- We’re friends but we a-a-aren’t- That’s not all-”

Swallowing his own tongue would probably be easier right now. Perhaps he should try it. If he could unhook it from where it was tethered at the front of his mouth then maybe he could partially swallow it, block his airways. Maybe it could choke him physically in parallel to how he was doing mentally right now. He was definitely choking.

Gods, how was he not pouring sweat? He certainly wasn’t imagining the dampening of his palms, something that she’d surely feel, their hands intertwined as they were but he didn’t attempt to pull himself free. His other hand dragged fingers along the inside of his collar, circulating air and trying to alleviate the choked feeling. Not that his collar was tight against his throat or anything; he had two buttons undone.

“Honestly? I d-d-don’t know. M-m-more than… m-m-more than-”

A pause, another uncomfortable swallow before his lips pursed, brows tugged tightly together and down, the skin of his forehead puckering. Licking his lips again, he drew the lower one in and let his teeth drop down. Staring at her, he tried to grasp how to articulate this without giving the wrong idea but while also being sufficiently honest; he didn’t want to hurt.

“I… I like you and I-I-I care- Not j-j-just friends but uh, we… erm- I don’t- W-What we are… I don’t… know. I uh… don’t… know how to-”

At last, his hand was pulled free of her grasp, both hands waved in the air to express- Well, to express nothing really. He didn’t know, it was just vague waving. Fill in the blank. He tore his gaze away too, head twisting off to the side as fingers mauled his hair, tugging it back as his face tilted upwards to the play of light and shadow on the leaves above them, the varying tints and shades of green. Unconsciously, his body pulled away from her own a bit too as he groaned, vocalising his frustration.

Words! Fucking hell, he couldn’t- Clock the fucking Circle, he really couldn’t-

Abruptly, his hands left his hair, his neck, head snapping in her direction once more. Determination blazed in his brown eyes, intense and then he did what words couldn’t do. He let his hands move to frame her face to hold her in place while he brought his lips to hers. Soft, sweet, fleeting, just enough to convey… well, so much more than his inadequate, flailing words had. He let out a little sigh, a judder in his breath as he drew back, unsure, searching her face, heart pulsing sickeningly in his throat as he swallowed spasmodically, attempting to swallow a lump that refused to go down. Maybe it was his heart he was trying to gulp. Maybe it was that organ that was bobbing up and down in his throat instead of the press of cartilage from his voice box.

Had she understood?

“Um… yeah...” he said, displaying a remarkable degree of eloquence.