InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Don't Be So Scared."

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
2009-12-30 02:30 am UTC (link)

Fleur stared down at her bowl as Bill continued eating, but she found that she couldn't stomach any more. The cream was too heavy, the warmth of it almost overpowering. She knew it wasn't really the food's fault, but it was easier to blame than herself or Bill. She managed a bit of bread, but by the time Bill stood up from the table, she was more than ready to be finished. She carried their glasses and put them in the sink next to the bowls; the washing could wait.

"I need my cloak, and you must 'ave one, too. It is too cold," she said, sliding her hand into his even though she had to release it only a few seconds later to slip the warm garment around her shoulders. She preferred the warmth of his skin to it all, though, and chose not to put on her gloves. Once Bill was ready, she slipped her hand back into his and led the way out the front door.

The cold wind hit Fleur full force, but she simply stood tall and let it whip across her face as they walked. The chill was almost refreshing compared to the mind-lulling heat of the house, and standing side by side, watching where they were going, she didn't feel like she had to look at Bill to speak to him. It was a bit easier that way, she thought. She wasn't sure she could bare to watch his expression right now.

"Are we falling apart again?" she said quietly, biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "Only it is with formality and politeness instead of angry words this time?"

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bl_bill
2009-12-30 02:42 am UTC (link)

Bill pulled on his heavy winter coat and reached for Fleur's hand again. She slipped it into his without hesitation, and he wondered how she could seem so comfortable with their closeness when he second guessed himself every time.

They walked in silence, and the wind whipped around them. Bill buttoned the top two buttons of his coat to try and keep out the chill, which proved to be fruitless. Bill's mind drifted to tools and nails. He wondered if he should add another two metres to the deck he wanted to construct in the backyard.

Bill opened his mouth to respond, but not a word came out. He closed it and stopped walking. Bill stepped in front of Fleur, wishing he could smooth away the pain he saw on her face. He shook his head. "No," he said. He pulled her into him, surrounded her with his arms. But yes. Yes, this time we're being polite and gentle, but our words are hollow. Why? He touched her face with his hand. She was so cold. "I don't want to, but I don't know how to stop it. I don't--" Know what to do.

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bl_fleur
2009-12-30 02:56 am UTC (link)

Fleur let out a shaky breath at his answer. It had been the one she wanted, the only one that she hadn't dreaded, but somehow it wasn't completely satisfying. It, like everything else, seemed to be the automatic answer. The easy, polite one. Did he really believe what he was saying, or was he simply trying to make her feel better about them falling apart? Would it be easier this time, if they separated over kind words?

No. She would not allow it.

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and trying desperately not to cry, even though her cheeks felt as if they might break apart from the sudden effort. She felt cold despite Bill's arms around her, but she didn't think it was just from the weather. "Talk to me," she said, raising up on her tiptoes and pressing her cheek to his. Her arms were curled up between their bodies, fingertips gripping the front of his coat. "Please."

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bl_bill
2009-12-30 03:10 am UTC (link)

Fleur leaned toward his touch, and his chest began to ache. She was his wife Why did she sometimes seem like less--distant, hundreds of miles away? Was it all his fault? Had he pushed and pushed and pushed until they were passing strangers, drifting in and out of each other's lives spouting pleasantries?

Is that what he wanted?

No.

She gripped his coat, begged him to talk to her. But he was no good at talking. He was wretched. He felt he'd talked enough to last ten years, maybe twenty, and still they were shifting apart. He lifted his other hand and cupped her face in his hands.

"My beautiful Fleur," he whispered. "I don't know how to. I don't know what to say anymore." He leaned down as if to kiss her, but his body pulled away. Kissing Fleur was dangerous because it would inevitably lead to more and then he would be reminded of what he couldn't give her.

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bl_fleur
2009-12-30 03:37 am UTC (link)

Fleur murmured terms of endearment in French, dozens of them, pressing her face to Bill's neck almost as if to steady herself. How was it possible to love someone so much, to live for someone, yet to feel so lost just trying to reach out to him? A few tears rolled down her cheeks, and while she no longer had the energy to stop them, she tried her best to wipe them away immediately.

"Tell me what I can do to make you happy again," she said, voice nearly breaking midway through the sentence. Was it just about having children now, same as it had been nearly a year ago, or was there something else? Perhaps the idea of having a family had taken such great hold on him that she alone was no longer enough for him. A sob tore through her at the thought, and it was an effort to collect herself enough to speak again. "I do not need anything more than that, to know you are happy with me."

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bl_bill
2009-12-30 03:57 am UTC (link)

Fleur's pain radiated from her body and felt like curses against Bill's chest. He welcomed it at first because at least it made him feel alive--made him feel. But them they began to rip and tear at him until he wanted to scream, wanted to release the wolf clawing within.

But her voice, her words, sliced him open. She thought it was her fault. Her fault? Never. He hadn't seen Fleur look so broken in months, and those months had been the worst of all. "Fuck," he swore. With one swift movement, he lifted Fleur into his arms and pressed her close to him.

He carried her inside because outside in an unforgiving wind was no place to have such a conversation. He thought of taking her to the bedroom but that felt too risky, so he placed her gently on the couch. He pushed her hair back from her face. What words would stop her tears? What could he possibly say to breach the wall between them?

"You make me happy," he said even though he knew they weren't exactly happy together. "This isn't just about you. You're--you've been doing so much to try and piece us back together, and I've been taking us apart. Bit by bit, haven't I?" He looked away from her so she wouldn't see his shame. "I can fix anything. I can build anything. And yet...I deconstruct us, and I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to let go of this," he said, putting his hand against his chest. Burdens resided there and he grown so used to them, he'd stopped trying to rid himself of their presence. But now... wasn't it worth it to try?

He leaned forward and kissed her wet cheeks even though he knew he shouldn't. "Please don't cry, love. Please."

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bl_fleur
2009-12-30 05:40 am UTC (link)

Fleur sobbed against Bill's chest as he carried her back into the house. She didn't want to cry. It made her feel weak and helpless, and she knew deep down that she was neither, but still she was powerless to stop the emotional torrent as it flowed from her body. She wanted to take comfort in his closeness, to believe that his arms holding her tightly meant something significant, but she wasn't sure what to trust any more. Even her own words and actions seemed unreliable.

"Do I? You barely touch me, sometimes barely even look at me, and that is in the two days each week when I 'ave seen you." She shook her head as he continued, touching his jaw lightly with one hand to make him look at her again. She needed to look into his eyes, even if her own vision was cloudy with tears. Bill put one hand to his chest, and she placed both of hers over it. "I will pry it from your fingers if I must. I 'ave been too frightened to press, too afraid that you will push me away if I try, but I cannot allow myself to 'esitate any longer. I cannot lose you. Will not."

His lips were hot against her wind-chilled cheeks, and she closed her eyes, still clasping his hand between hers. The temptation was once again strong to draw him into her thrall and lose herself in him for awhile, lose themselves in one another, but she knew from experience that the peace would not last. It was not worth losing what tiny bit of ground they might have gained today. Fleur kissed him softly, then again, lingering longer than she had intended before she finally pulled away.

Curling up tight against his chest, she refused to relinquish his hand and instead pressed it to her lips. "Talk to me," she said, still quietly, but a bit steadier now than before. "About anything, mon amor. I think that just 'earing your voice can cure much."

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