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Julian shook his head, for the first time in his conversations with the landlord not feeling a punch to the gut from his caustic words. "Fine, I won't pretend to know your motives," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a sneer. "But you don't seem to have a grasp of mine either."

He didn't shove past the other man, but he didn't cringe around Kindle to get out from between the couch and the landlord. If he'd been alone, he might have paused to gather his thoughts before going into the room. As it was, he didn't hesitate before slipping through the door. It was light enough to turn off the lamp he'd left burning all night; the blinds were closed by he fixed that too. The less shade cast around here the better.

Last night, as strange and wonderful as it had been, he had hardly been embarrassed at all by her lack of a top. This morning was a little different; she was curled shivering under the thin summer blanket he had at the foot of the bed. Despite himself, Julian had slowly been moving himself into the room, settling his mind into the nooks and crannies, unpacking boxes as he went. Amelia looked out of place now, though he knew this place should be hers. He didn't even know where she kept her clothes, so it wasn't like he could give her a shirt. "s**t," he muttered, resting his face in his hands for half a second. Then he very quietly moved a chair over to the side of the bed, sat down, and reached out cautiously to touch her shoulder through the blanket. "Hey. Hey. There are sheets, if you want them."

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Amelia’s head was pounding, not hard as she had imagined it would once the morning came, but instead soft annoying little drums that decided to focus on just the front of her forehead. Her body felt sluggish, even as it trembled under the cool September air that had somehow managed to slip into the sanctuary of her apartment. The added heat from the alcohol had left her vulnerable to even the slightest chill—and the strange lack of shirt was causing the brisk air to focus more attention on her still.

She hadn’t really thought when her eyes had peeled open the first time. Everything was hard to focus on, colors were muted and the edges of her vision continued to stay blurry from a mixture of hangover and a pathetic need for more sleep. Her fingers had reached, blindly, for whatever they could manage to find that would suffice as a sense of comfort. A small barrier to protect her half naked form, though an almost useless one if to be completely honest.

Her dark curls fell around her in wild tangles, slightly knotted from not being brushed but carefully cared for on enough of a regular basis to be painfully spun together. The cover was pulled just slightly to reveal the small of her freckled back, causing more shivers still but not a full enough conscious to understand where the sensation was coming from.

She hadn’t even noticed the creaking of the floorboard or the muttering of the man in the room. She hadn’t even noticed a man in the room at all until the warmth of a mildly familiar hand found her. The blanket shifted awkwardly in between them as she turned to focus on Julian.

“What?” Her voice cracked out of her dry throat, making her more uncomfortable than she had suddenly felt. Why he was talking to her was an unwarranted situation. Why he was talking to her about sheets was another matter entirely. Without much thought she pulled herself up, letting the blanket fall around her hips as she kept defensive blue eyes on him.

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"Oh." Julian breathed out, looking down to his hands twisting together, contorting into mildly painful gestures that meant nothing, even to him. His face was redder than the lampshade, resisting the desire that rose to choke him, to map her freckles and count them as he would have counted stars. Would have deciphered each secret.

"I–I just thought that as long as you were on the bed, you might as well use all of the blankets on there instead of just the throw." He paused, then stood again, turning to rummage through a trunk at the foot of the bed. "Here's a heavier one, if you wanted." He pulled out the quilt, managing to unfold it as he went so that it was bunched up into a huge ball that half-covered his face and spilled over his arms. "Hmm?"

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Amelia’s pounding head did not allow her to stay up for long, the weight she had forced on her elbows was suddenly lost and she fell back against the bed. She was lying on her stomach now, her face pressed into the pillow as she groaned in mild pain. It was clear that the beginnings of a hangover had just managed to find the perfect moment to drive a wedge into her crumbling life.

Needless to say she hadn’t noticed Julian’s staring or heard much of his explanation, which perhaps had been a good thing. She looked at him, turning her head to the side so that she wouldn’t have to move her clearly content body. Her eyes focused on him as best they could as she tried to put it all together. He looked stupid holding the blanket like that.

A blanket. He was offering. To her.

She pulled her face from the pillow slightly, not wanting to suddenly move and cause a rush of pounding that would most likely make her bed ridden for the remainder of the day (she assumed it was afternoon, however it was earlier than she would have liked. It was earlier than any hungover person should have been expected to get up after all). Amelia Day studied the pillow for several minutes before determining that it wasn’t hers (though she had no real reminder of what her pillow had looked like—it had been in Ceath’s captive for several weeks now) and therefore the bed most likely wasn’t hers (though, naturally, it felt like her bed for it once in fact had been).

She set her head down carefully into the pillow, putting pieces together that did not actually belong together and settled into the idea of burying herself. She nodded into the fabric for him to give her the blanket, not sure if he had seen but not willing to speak.

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Julian took the muffled nod as acceptance, and fluffed out the blanket over her. He untucked corners and made sure the quilt covered her feet before moving the chair back to where it'd been sitting at his cluttered desk. "I'm just going to – did you want water or – or anything? I…" he stopped and sighed a little. "I should probably just leave."

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Amelia didn’t know what to do or say, she didn’t know what to think. All she could do is shake her head against the pillow when he spoke to her, trying to drown out the sound. The last thing she wanted was to be around him. The soft lull of the hangover had rapidly spurred into a violent beating.

She wanted to ask, naturally, about what she had done. She wanted to apologize for whatever it had been and kindly ask him to ignore her existence for the rest of forever. But despite all her wanting, she had to focus on her needs and water was something she desperately needed. “Water.” Is all she allowed herself to say to him.

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Aneira gasped softly as she entered the room behind Ceath, the door closing with a sharp click behind her. She gaped at it openly with wide green eyes. “Oh,” she breathed, turning to get the full view of the room. It was gorgeous, she couldn’t believe she was there. She didn’t want to know how much it cost, she thought, feeling guilty. The feeling soon vanished as Ceath spoke.

“Its wonderful,” she said, wishing she could find the words to describe it more adequately. No one had treated her this well before. Her past flings and one night stands (which comprised of her entire experience with dating) had taken place in small apartments and cheap motels. Never anything like this. And the way he had been looking at her, so expectantly. He wanted her to be happy. “It’s better than wonderful.”

She moved closer to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she leaned back to look up at him. “And I think, we should make use of that,” she said slowly, eyes moving to the rather comfortable looking bed.

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"Okay. Yeah." Julian went back out into the main apartment, pausing to open the blinds across the balcony doors and turning off the dimmed chandelier. In the day it just seemed like a stupid way to light a place; not the least bit cozy or gods forbid romantic.

He was debating whether to take her an unopened bottle or a glass with ice when he noticed the clock on the microwave. "Oh no." The last of his nerves gone, replaced by flat out panic, he managed to get the glass onto the counter and rushed back into the room, water bottle rolling off the bedside table almost before he'd put it there, and he just shoved books into his bag hoping they were the right ones for today. "I'm going to be so late." He half explained to Amelia, almost invisible under the blankets. "I'm sorry I couldn't help more, or something. I'll see you later." He called this last sentence over his shoulder, trying to fasten his bag shut and get out the door at the same time.

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**is going to make some sort of poetic post about amelia's decent into sleep and ceath's rustling of jimmis.

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx❥ T I M E S K I P ↓↓
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The car rumbled around Aneira as she lay back against the comfortable seat. The city in the daylight was a sea of grey buildings and black asphalt, not nearly as beautiful as the lights that graced it at night. She removed her gaze from the familiar scenery (or lack thereof) to glance over at Ceath as he drove.

The night before had been wonderful. She smiled as she considered the fact that no one had ever treated her nearly as well, no one had made her feel so wanted. He was amazing in so many ways. Unthinkingly, she reached over and grasped his free hand, enjoying the feel of his warm skin against the palm of her hand. She sighed as her thoughts turned to the apartment and the others.

“I wonder how everyone else’s night was,” she mused, her voice barely more than a whisper.

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Julian had little patience for the morning lecture, and no appetite for lunch. His mind was trying desperately to make sense of the night before, and his heart was tossed about like a rowboat in a storm. Perhaps it would have been better if he'd never left at all; he certainly didn't take enough away from the class for it to be worth going. But staying would have meant confronting Kindle again, and while that would certainly be in the future, Julian wanted to avoid it as much as possible. He hated the landlord with an almost unnatural heat, and each word they exchanged seemed calculated to sear another grievance between them. And his abrupt departure left Amelia in Kindle's care.

It was only once he was on his reluctant way back to the apartment that he admitted to himself that Kindle would take excellent care of hung-over Amelia. And Julian refused to consider the reasons behind his own anger.

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Amelia’s heart fell into a slow rhythm when Kindle finally let her be. All the little whispers he had strung into her ears repeated themselves relentlessly, causing her heart to jerk with suddenness that sparked mild paint throughout her no longer bare chest. She knew that she couldn’t believe him of course, not completely. Kindle had a tendency to make things a bit more embellished then they usually turned out to be. Yet, she felt unsteady on her normally firm feet, her fingers twitched more than normal and she couldn’t get [i[that damned voice out of her head.

Kindle’s whispers were far enough for her but to include…Amelia’s fingers curled into the clinging fabric of her yoga pants as a distant echo of herself continued to speak in twin whispers with Kindle, snaking up her spine with a voice as cold as a swift wind of winter. Unconsciously she closed in on herself, clutching onto the soft fabric of her hoodie.

With hesitation she took a step forward and then another and so forth until she finally managed to meet the bedroom door. Her frosted hands reached for the knob and forced it open stiffly. The floorboards creaked as she walked to the kitchen, her eyes careful on the living room and her heart relieved that no one was home. No one could bare witness; no one could see her drowning.

x

Ceath’s heart lurched in his chest. He couldn’t believe himself. He couldn’t believe he would ruin everything by using Aneira for comfort when he had wanted to love her like a proper individual should. But he blew it and he wasn’t surprised about it in the slightest. He knew he wasn’t good enough, he knew he had crossed a line that he shouldn’t have. She was so much more to him than that…and yet grief took him over the edge. Grief and cowardice.

Amelia had spent the night alone and Ceath could feel his betrayal burning into his skin. Not only had he avoided her but he had also thrown Julian to the metaphorical beast that was Amelia’s loss. Hamish’s birthday would be the starting of a series of episodes of brokenness that he wasn’t sure he could handle. Her birthday would be next and nothing hurt more than that.

When Aneira’s hand slipped into his an odd comfort came with it. His stiff hand laid in hers until finally he could hear himself breathing again, feel himself breathing again. The red haired man gave the petite woman a short squeeze that was interrupted by her quiet voice breaking through the noise of the city.

He let her hand go and moved it robotically to the steering wheel. “I…” He started but was forced to stop due to the lump building itself on his tongue. He knew the answer and Ceath wasn’t one to be right about a lot. He wished he wasn’t right about it. But despite his outward display Ceath knew that that wishes barely came true and that heroes were always tragic.

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Aneira frowned, her now empty hand laying open. She didn't move it, instead turned all of her attention to Ceath. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Her eyebrows drew forward and concern darkened the green eyes that were looking at him intently. She tried to think of why he would be so upset and so quickly. The only thing she could think was that something was wrong back at the apartment, but there hadn’t been a call or anything that she knew of. “Is it Amelia?” she asked, guessing tentatively. She didn’t want to upset him even more, but she wanted to try to help how she could. “Did she text you or something?” She moved both of her hands to her lap, holding them together nervously as she waited for an answer.

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Julian paced the small hallway between the stairs and the elevator, having resolved on skipping the rest of the day’s classes and yet unwilling to go up. He had barely spoken to Amelia after last night, and maybe… but he never really did speak to Amelia, after all. She would doubtlessly just stare at him with eyes like ice, silent, expecting something he couldn’t say. He never knew what to say around her.
When someone came down the stairs three at a time, Julian tried desperately to pretend he hadn’t been walking there for over ten minutes. He leaned against the wall next to the elevator, hands in his pockets, and pretended to look up as Karl raced down the last flight of steps. “You’re back early.” The shorter man said, pausing in his mad dash. Karl seemed to do most things at a pace that frantic.
“Class was cancelled.” Julian lied, and Karl knew it.
“Okay…” he let his sentence trail off, eyeing Julian thoughtfully. “Were you planning on actually pushing the button for the elevator, or did you just want to stand here a while?”
“Oh. Um. Right.” Julian leaned over to hold down the ‘up’ button for a few seconds, waiting for it to light up before shifting back.
“Let me know if you need me.” Karl said slowly, still looking at him funny. “Like, test answers or anything. Just give me a ring, you know?”
Julian laughed. It felt good to laugh, even over something so small. Karl grinned, running a hand through his hair.
“I’ve got to go. Just, let me know if you need anything.” Karl jogged across the small room and pushed his way through the heavy metal door, having to really shove his weight behind it.
With Karl’s probably-serious offer obscuring the worst of the morning’s troubled events, Julian actually got in the elevator when the doors wheezed open; though by the time he’d unlocked the apartment door he felt nerves come back to twist into his stomach like barbed wire.
Gaia Forums » GAIA Community » Barton Town (Role Play) » Invitation-only RP

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