Page 27 of My Lovely Tragedy
It’s all around me in every possible flavor of vanilla and honey.
I hear him downstairs, fingers clacking against his keyboard. The sound echoes up and around, filling my mind with an unreserved sense of cadence.
With a huff, I fling the covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed, padding quietly across the floor until I reach the small railing keeping me from going over the edge. And the thought is appealing—or it would be if I knew for a fact it wouldn’t kill me.
Shame.
Tabling that thought for later, I lean down to rest my arms against the rail, head hanging between my shoulders as I peer down to the couch where Tobias sits with his back to me. His laptop rests against his thighs, screen dimly lit and opened on a document filled with words—words that continue to multiply the faster his fingers move.
My brows furrow as I squint, trying to see the screen better, but between the distance, a low display brightness, and the darkness of night, I can’t make anything out.
His usual ramrod posture is distorted. Back curved, torso curled around his computer like he’s protecting the words. Hiding them.
I cock my head to the side, eyes tracking the speed in which his fingers move. Lots of backspacing the faster he goes. The more repetitive the clacking, the more he hunches.
It’s… oddly fascinating. I have no idea what he’s doing, but whatever he’s writing means a lot to him—enough for him to want to protect it.
My lips part to interrupt. To dig and push for information. To be told. But I hold myself back and instead,watch.
The way I know he watches me—even when I’m not aware of it.
And it drives me absolutely fucking crazy howweirdthis is. I know it’s not normal—not under any possible circumstance or scenario—but it justis.
I’m here because of the storm, but even when the roads are cleared, I can see myself staying longer. Enjoying the solidarity. The freedom to not have to perform. To see and be seen.
I’m here because Tobias wants me here. For some reason I can’t quite figure out—yet. And I’m here because I want to be—implausibility be damned.
Tobias keeps talking about how he finds me interesting. But little does he know, my intrigue with him is just as damning.
Time to see who sheds their skin first, left raw and exposed to the frigid, winter air.
CHAPTEREIGHT
TOBIAS
Lead fills my stomach,the weight foreign and unseemly, as I trudge through the snow, making my way back to the cabin. Drifts that go past my knees still take up most of the road leading to the house, but the highway itself is mostly clear. Snow and ice coat the concrete, but it’s drivable—if the lonely car that passed by was any indication.
And I hate it. I hate the bars of service illuminating the top of my screen, taunting me. Reminding me this is only temporary.
Brooklyn said he would stay. And I believe him. But for how long?
How long do I have before he’s gone, and I am left alone again? Surrounded by the echoing silence I once burned bridges to achieve.
It has all changed, and I’m left grasping at straws, scrambling to figure out how I am supposed to survive in this new version of my life that I cannot keep.
Grimacing at the screen, I shove my phone back into my pocket, fingers curled around the edge, feeling more than hearing the resounding squeak of the leather encasing my hand.
The cold is intense—crisp and arctic—as it seeps beneath my layers and chills me to the bone.
“Tobias?” Brooklyn calling for me has my head jerking up. The sun reflecting off the snow is blinding, and I’m forced to blink rapidly, vision temporarily blinded as I search him out.
As he blinks into view, surrounded by dark voids, my legs stop. I’m a few feet from my snow-covered car, but I see Brooklyn clearly—clad in a pair of my sleep pants and one of my oversized crew neck sweatshirts—a plain gray.
His hair is tangled and blowing in the slight breeze, giving more vibrancy to his sleep-creased face.
“You’re awake,” I comment as I force my legs to keep moving, kicking through the unkempt snow, now uncaring as it slips inside my boots.
“Yeah.” Warm vapor escapes his mouth. He scratches the back of his head before crossing his arms over his chest and hunching over against the cold. “What are you doing out here? It’s fucking freezing.” He shivers for effect, and I smirk, walking closer still.
