leocius malfoy (quickliquor) wrote in camulus, @ 2011-02-14 00:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! narrative, leopold cole |
WHO: Leo Cole.
WHAT: A valentine surprise, as indicated here!
WHERE: Carys’s room, Amazon House.
WHEN: Valentine’s Day, while Carys is away.
RATING: PG-13 for extreme emo and some cursing!
Leo had fucked up.
Shocker, that was. He was never doing that. He was never ruining his relations with those around him--it wasn’t a trend or anything. Barely any friends, strings of broken relationships drifting away in the foam behind his passing ship. A failed marriage.
A dead son.
They piled up on him, the weight of their disappointment bearing down on his bones. He was a strong man. He could punch through walls, take down individuals easily. He could even build them up, in the case of his students. But he couldn’t keep them around. Some people he was stuck with--parents, sister, Silvia. But others just moved through his life, a breeze that ruffled his hair but never made a lasting mark.
And now it was that time: the moment of importance. The tipping point. The apex, where he would decide his path. Looking around her place of residence, he saw her face, the delicate features, paper-thin eyelids, white-gold hair, the graceful curve of her neck... would he let her slip away? Or fight for her? Kate had been a different story. He would never have been able to keep her, not after what happened with Ezra. It would never have been the same. Her scarred womb--tears came to his eyes--would remind them until the end of eternity what they had made, what they had lost.
You couldn’t recover from something like that.
But Carys was his student. Carys wasn’t Kate, in so many ways. And yet one reminded him of the other more than he would ever admit. Could he even do it? Could he live with himself in either scenario--with her, or not? He knew the answer, but wouldn’t say it. He wouldn’t even think the words.
Leo looked around the room. What was he doing? He was a fool. First, to let himself feel, to lower his guard. Second, to betray his emotions. Third, to expect anything in return. And fourth, to come here today. To spend the money on the flowers. To even construct this as a possibility.
He decided he wanted nothing in return. It would be too great a discomfort--too great a reminder of his idiocy--to see her every day, to even receive a note of thanks. He hovered over the card, pen in hand.
I’m sorry
He wrote, hand shaking. To sign? A breath’s worth of hesitation.
- L.
He placed the card on her desk, a rectangle of cream pungent against the dark wood grain. He crossed his arms, and uncrossed them again. He would have to be particularly quiet at this time of day to escape the Amazons’ household without being noticed.