InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Go to bread."

• flower enthusiast rose knightley • (flowercrown) wrote in valesco,
@ 2015-09-07 23:47:00

Entry tags:

rose knightley, rupert brookstanton

UH
It had been a very simple question: 'Are we drifting apart?'

And Rose hadn't... it occurred to her that... even though she asked Axe idly (it had truly been out of fear), she realized she already knew the answer. They had, of course they had. Things... weren't like they were before, they weren't like they used to be. He didn't... always stay with her at night, which was understandable considering Guy's sudden and violent reappearance, and she, in turn, had begun to... she didn't feel the need, the pull, to... be close to Axe. At first, Rose had thought herself proud for providing Axe the space she thought he properly needed. She thought it a mature response, something that showed how they had grown. But it hadn't... been that, had it? It should feel differently, this should feel differently.

She felt a bit cold. It was a cold, hollow feeling that spread within her upon realizing the relationship she fought so hard to maintain had very well may begun to splinter before them without even their realization. Looking down at her hands, Rose took the steady silence between the two of them as almost deafening.

They were.... breaking-up, weren't they? That was what this silence meant? A kind of... muted defeated in the face of something that... they had tried to avoid. Her hands fell to the couch cushion beneath her, her fingers playing with the fabric as she thought of what to say. What could she say?

"I don't... know what to say," Rose admitted, desperate to keep talking to him. Perhaps--- it was just a bump, perhaps... the shift, from being apart from so long, a... reflex? But even Rose knew she was lying to herself. They didn't... she didn't.... a hard frown settling on her face, as she looked up at Axe, feeling that her heart was on the cusp of breaking. But had it already? Had it already begun to? She swallowed, and pressed her hand to the side of her face in unwilling discomfort.

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connard
2015-09-09 05:30 am UTC (link)

Axe supposed, in the back of his mind, he'd known. Or at least, he had foreseen. Since they had… taken a break, he supposed, earlier in the year, nothing had been the same. The easiness, the naturalness that so defined them, it was gone. Perhaps vanished in the wake of all that was happening in their lives now. They were both focusing more on Quidditch, Rose's brother was getting married, he spent much of his free time with his brother, often spending nights at a time away and feeling no pang for it. Even in this house, it was strange how quickly a place that had for all intents and purposes been his home for more than a year felt almost suffocating.

He thought the question had taken him by surprise, but as he took a moment to reflect on it, he realised that no, it hadn't. Yes, they seemed to be. He did not know why, or if they could stop it, but it was unmistakable.

In his heart, he knew he cared deeply for Rose, but that by itself was not enough. Such things meant very little, after all.

With a sigh, Axe unknowingly mirrored her position, looking down at his hands with his arms resting on his thighs, slowly rubbing them together. "There is nothing," he said, simply. "We tried… again, and it would not work."

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flowercrown
2015-09-10 01:06 am UTC (link)

But---

Her lips pressed together as she thought... it wasn't that simple, was it? Yes, logic made everything so much easier to muddle through the difficult things. It had relieved her, always reassured her as a fallback, but now that didn't--- it didn't seem right to... she knew what she knew. Her heart, matters of the heart... was it right to....?

They had made a home together, they had made a life together, they had... it had been settled, they had figured it out. Or at least, she thought... she had thought---

Her head dropped, and Rose quickly buried her face into her hands. She could fight, she supposed, continue to struggle with this dying thing between them, but what good would that do? What good, what could anyone benefit from twisting and wringing what little good was left? In the end, that would leave... nothing, and she cared far too much for him to leave him with nothing.

"You should stay," she mustered, her hands running down her neck to clasp each other. Nodding, distractedly, Rose stood up wobbling to her feet. That would be best, that would be-- best, he could stay here, he and Guy could live here, and she--

"You stay here and I'll go. I'm going to--- I'll go." Her hands fell to her front now, pressing against her clothes in a way that made it seem Rose had trouble believing what before her was real. Her face fell, and she thought... he had left last time, it would only be far... she didn't, couldn't watch him leave again.

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connard
2015-09-11 07:06 am UTC (link)

"What?" he asked incredulously. "Here?"

Did she mean he should stay in her house while she left? His brows crinkled in confusion as he lifted his head to stare at her. "Why would you—"

If she was not home, Axe almost always left until she would be. How could he stay in her house without her? Even with her, he was overcome with the feeling that he no longer belonged, like the walls themselves could read his mind, his heart, better than he could and disapproved of him abusing their shelter.

Everywhere he looked, there were memories of the happier times between them, and they seemed to haunt him wherever he went, taunt him, almost. He had had one good thing, one true thing, and in the end, he was not worthy enough for it. Did that explain the strange numbness he felt now, that he was not a part of this conversation and was instead watching it from the doorway, impassive?

But if that were the case, why was it that memories of the two of them still flashed through his mind, almost against his will. They somehow represented his failure to overcome what everyone thought of him, this fast-and-loose playing bastard son of a drug-addled Muggle and an unfaithful wizard that inherited his mother's madness and taste for substances and his father's inability to commit to anything.

Stung by the violent turn of his thoughts, Axe shook his head as though he'd misheard Rose, feeling sickness begin to roil in his stomach.

"Rose, do not be absurd."

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flowercrown
2015-09-11 07:58 pm UTC (link)

It wasn't absurd. Where else would he go? He couldn't go back to that flat, she couldn't knowingly sentence him back to that destitute. He had--- this had been his home as much as hers, and he had--- there was Guy, Guy needed to be... taken care of, now more than ever. Axe had no money, little money, wasn't it the least that she could do? She--- he couldn't--- she couldn't do that to him, she couldn't--- she didn't want him to think---

While Rose thought all these things true, she knew that they, truly, paled in comparison to the real reason behind why her shoved as much as she could at him. Her thoughts had already turned to earlier this year, when she had watched him go, and the memory gripped at her chest. She felt her eyes well up, knowing how weepily she had begged him not to go...

"You can't go back to that flat. Where will you--?" Her voice caught in her throat. Rose couldn't lie to him, not here, like this. It was... when faced with the end, there couldn't be any kind of deceit. So she looked at him, her tilted gaze catching his in a broken kind of way. Her shoulders pulled up in a defeated manner.

"I don't want you to go," Rose let out, her voice strained and small. "And I can't watch you leave again. I can't, I really can't, I can't do this---"

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connard
2015-09-11 08:30 pm UTC (link)

"I am not leaving you." Axe said this softly, but firmly. When understanding dawned, he had stood up and gone to her, laying one hand on her shoulder and cupping her face with the other. He had left her before, after the sting of realising he was not enough for her, trying to persuade her he never would be enough. Perhaps that crack had broken them irreparably, but that crushing feeling of not being enough… perhaps it had given way to resignation, but he no longer felt its weight. Stooping, he looked her steadily in the eye. "This, I promise."

Still, he struggled to find the words in French or English or any other language to describe what exactly was breaking apart before them. Diviser, to separate, to divide, perhaps. Words had never much been his forte, anyway. If he had the feeling Rose was clinging to him out of desperation that he would leave her, perhaps this would be different. But she seemed to him just as befuddled and sad and angry that everything that had worked toward had simply… fallen apart when they had not been looking.

"And," he added, a weak smile spreading on his lips, "you do not even want to stay in this house with me." His thumb absently stroked her hair as Axe sighed heavily. "What will I do in such a big house?" he asked. "Play with les chats? Je pense que non. It is absurd." But he said the words as playfully as he could, without rancour.

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flowercrown
2015-09-11 10:36 pm UTC (link)

But he was.

Her chin wobbled, even Axe's soothing words unable to stop her spinning thoughts. How could he not be? They were--- this was the end, that was what happened when a relationship died. Their life, together, was over, it didn't--- there wasn't--- she did, she did want to stay here with him, this house was filled with happy memories, happy times that went compared to a bleaker future made her so sad it was unbearable to endure.

"But you are," Rose mumbled meekly, her eyes tearing from his. "This is--- a break up, we are breaking up, aren't we? I--"

Her hands went to his chest, and in an effort to compose herself, she stared hard at it. Her lips turned up at his familiar response to all things that teasingly displeased him, and they pressed together as her legs shifted beneath her. Rose did not want to try, she knew how Axe did not like her tears, but it was hard not to in the face of... all that she wished she could change.

"I do, don't say that," she murmured, watching has her fingers curled further to grip his front. How could he say that? Rose had always loved to come home and find him here, looked forward to crawling into bed with him, needed it, actually, telling him everything, sharing everything with him because he truly was--- he truly meant---

"Take the cats," she relented, her voice surprisingly tender. It was not a serious suggestion, but one that she nonetheless couldn't go out without stating. Rose moved to press her forehead to his shoulder, leaning a great weight into him.

"They like you better."

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connard
2015-09-12 06:24 am UTC (link)

"I am not taking the cats," he said, wrapping his arm around her and laying his head atop hers. "But they do like me best."

He could feel the barely-there warmth of the wetness falling from her eyes absorb into his shirt. Suddenly, he wished he could give her tears. Not even when he'd seen Guy bloodied and broken had he wept—only upon his brother waking had he thought even for a moment that he might truly sob with joy, with gratitude, after so many years.

But now, to mourn with her the loss of this wonderful thing between them, he wished he could show her some tangible proof of that sadness. Axe thought he owed her at least that much.

Looking around the room now, he saw many happier times, ones he had no idea he'd get the chance to have. Now, with all that had been said, they seemed less taunting. He only wished he known it would not last forever and had so thought to savour them more.

He hated to think he had known they would not last forever and pulled away because of it.

"It will be all right, ma fleur," he told her, kissing the top of her head.

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flowercrown
2015-09-12 07:27 am UTC (link)

A gurgled kind of sobbish chuckle escaped her. Yes, those lovable rats did like him best, it had taken her up until now to fully admit that. But, there was a time and a place for everything, wasn't there? What would they do without him? What would she do without him?

But she couldn't cry anymore, so she couldn't... think about that. Axe said everything would be alright, that he wouldn't be leaving, but how could she truly believe that when it always... she didn't know... Pressing her face further, now into his neck, she took in a great many breaths to help steady herself. Rose found... she had already begun to miss him, and he was still standing before her.

But even if that was the case, there was still--- he had to know---

Quickly, she dislodged her hands from his chest to wipe at her eyes with her palms. Once that was done, Rose slid her arms around Axe's neck like she had many times before, her hands resting easily at the hairline on the back of his neck. His--- silly bird's nest hair that.... she would always think made him look so dashing...

"I love you," Rose murmured, determined for Axe to understand all that meant. Her mouth curled into a frown for a moment, and she tried to pick it back up for him. "I don't want you to forget that."

And, because they were close, because it was always how they spoke to one another when words failed, Rose raised up onto the balls of her feet to kiss him. It was a hard kiss, one that certainly knew it would be the last, and therefore did not hold back any reservations.

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connard
2015-09-13 08:34 pm UTC (link)

Rose's mouth was on his before he could respond, but he murmured into her lips. Because his mind, his body, had not yet realised that this was no longer his, it was still second nature to kiss her back. Here was where they had always understood each other perfectly, no matter the state of their relationship. Their bodies spoke a language neither of them were privy to, where those dreaded words need never enter.

Yet even as his hands held her closer to him, Axe did not understand what it was that was playing out before him. This scene, she was right, it was a break up. And he felt sadness, but it seemed distant. Was he still across the room, watching this embrace from afar? Right now, he felt little of anything.

But did it not make sense, he wondered, that they should end as they had begun? One final chance to learn by heart all those places on her body he was so fond of, to commit the sighs and moans and mewls when he touched her here and there just so to memory.

He pushed them to the bed and tried not to think what awaited him when they woke. That's when they could part, he thought. He could put off saying good-bye just for tonight. Perhaps in the morning, the comforting words he spoke to her would no longer be lies.

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