InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I declare"

William Arthur Weasley (bl_bill) wrote in bloodlines_rp,
@ 2009-12-29 09:47:00

Entry tags:

bill weasley, feb 2003, fleur weasley, loc: shell cottage, type: rp

Out of Hiding
Date & Time: 28 February 2003 | RP
Post Type: RP
Status: Closed: Complete
Character(s): Bill Weasley, Fleur Weasley
Location: Shell Cottage
Summary: Bill's out of town work is complete. He has nowhere to go but home.

Bill grabbed for his ponytail for the hundredth time and once again found it gone. Gone. It had been impulsive--cutting his hair off--and if Bill Weasley was anything, he wasn't impulsive. But it seemed freeing at the time. Foolish but freeing. He had naively hoped cutting his hair might also help to release some of the less attractive thoughts he'd been harbouring for weeks now. Or was it months?

Months.

He wanted to move forward without the feel of chains around his ankles, and yet he clutched them like a beloved pet. Held on without reason except for some excuse to latch on to. An excuse for why he wasn't progressing, for why he was trapped within his own bitterness, guilt, and jealousy.

He stepped through the Floo and carried his bags toward their bedroom. Now that his job was finished, he wouldn't have anywhere to disappear to when he felt particularly angry or bitter. He didn't want Fleur to see who he had become. He didn't want her to truly know how unfair he believed their lives had become. Charlie had a child he didn't know about, and Bill and Fleur wanted bloody children and had none. None. He was a failure.

Bill didn't expect Fleur to be home from work, but when he walked into the bedroom, she was bent over cleaning something from the floor. "Fleur?" he said. "Hey, I didn't think you'd be here." He dropped the bags on the bed. "Is everything okay?" Had something else gone wrong?

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bl_fleur
2009-12-29 09:04 pm UTC (link)

"Just water, please." Fleur turned off the hob and ladled a bit into each of the bowls, then replaced the pot on the worktop.

Her eyes kept drifting to Bill as they worked around one another. His haircut was such a tiny thing, but she still kept expecting to see a mass of damp hair hanging down onto his shoulder, when instead it was cropped close to his head. It didn't lessen her usual urge to run her fingers through it, though, and she allowed herself just once to caress the back of his head as she passed, bringing a pat of butter to the table.

"I've been well," she answered automatically, still standing next to the table. And it was the truth--she was healthy, safe, and not unhappy. Work had been pleasant enough, and she'd kept herself occupied in the evenings with chores, reading, and a visit to Madam Malkin's the previous evening. Her answer still felt false, though, and she couldn't leave it at that. She spoke slowly, careful to pronounce every word so that she could not be misunderstood. "I have...missed you, though, Bill. I am happy you're home."

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bl_bill
2009-12-29 09:22 pm UTC (link)

Bill filled a glass with water and poured the remainder of the pumpkin juice into his glass. Fleur's fingers on the nape of his neck made him falter and nearly pour juice onto the counter. Her touch still did something to him. He only wished touching Fleur wasn't attached to such anxiety and so many questions...Why can't I give you children? Why do I sometimes refuse to give into my desire? Why do I distance myself from you? Refuse to discuss what's really going on?

He sat and stirred his soup. He looked at her when she spoke. Bill reached for her hand, cataloging the way her words filled him with warmth and regret. "I missed you, too," he said. In so many ways. "I'm glad to be home again. I can finally finish that extra room and the deck, too, perhaps. You can have your flowers out there, and we can finally choose a paint colour..." For the child we do not have.

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bl_fleur
2009-12-29 09:39 pm UTC (link)

Bill reached for her hand, and it was almost enough to make her go to him. All it would take was a look, a touch, and he would be putty in her hands. He still loved her--of that much she was sure--and if she wanted him to kiss her and hold her and forget their problems for a little while, he would. Something in his tone held her back, something that said, yes, he had missed her, but that whatever had been on his mind these last several months was still there. She would have him, but he would not be all hers, and she would not be satisfied with anything less. Many a tear had been shed already over it.

Fleur squeezed his hand briefly, then released it to take her seat on the other side of the table. That small distance felt like a chasm, but she was used to it. In some ways, it was also her protection. "It is a bit early yet for flowers," she said, smiling at him as she scooped up a spoonful of soup. "But I would like to see the rest. It is nice to 'ave you tinkering about the 'ouse. You will turn into your father yet."

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bl_bill
2009-12-29 09:49 pm UTC (link)

Having Fleur release his hand and walk away--even though she was simply going to her seat across from him--felt like an old wound opening again. If he was a good, solid husband, she would have stayed beside him. He shook the ridiculous thoughts from his head. We're eating lunch. She can't bloody stand there and eat.

"I promise not to begin collecting silly Muggle pieces and parts," he said with a smile. He spooned in a healthy portion of soup and nodded. "It's very good, as always," he said. "Thank you for preparing lunch. It's a pleasant surprise to find you home so early in the day." He wanted to say more, but what? There were so many unsaid things between him and Fleur, he might as well be building the spare for words unspoken.

"I should probably go to the market later today. Is there anything I could pick up for you? Anything you'd like?"

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