HIM
Since Laura got here I've struggled to sleep.
When the quiet darkness settles over me, all I see is her.
The last few days, I've been haunted by a specific image: her, in a white dress, smiling her widest smile. Perhaps it would be nothing new, if it wasn't that in this image, I'm not the one next to her. No, I'm forced to watch as she smiles and blushes for Thomas.
It's not fair to take it out on her.
She was never mine, not really.
And what, now that there was no possibility of us being together I was going to treat her with disdain?
No.
In a moment of petty weakness I threw her kindness in her face, but I had resolved the second she left not to let it happen again. Yes, she had disappeared without saying goodbye, but even Amber had somehow forgiven her.
She had been nothing but apologetic and generous since she arrived, even when I scorned her. I sigh, turning another corner in the dark hallways.
At night, instead of sleeping, I paced the lower servants' floors, haunting them like a ghost. Tonight, my thoughts were occupied on how to be nothing more than friendly acquaintances with Laura, when what I wanted was decidedly not that.
Better than her hatred.
Over the sound of my own thoughts, I hear a quiet thud somewhere nearby. Immediately I'm on alert. It's the middle of the night, and no one should be down here. Slowly, I move towards where I thought the noise came from, straining to hear anything else.
No more thuds sound, rather, I hear a tiny hiccup followed by some shuffling.
Curiosity gripping me, I inch around the stairs. At first I see little, but as my eyes adjust to the light, I see there's a small space under the stairs and behind some crates that hide it from view.
A familiar small frame is slumped in the small space and panic lances through me.
Limonskiy is sitting with her skirts fanned around her, leaning against the wall. In the darkness she looks almost unconscious, sick surely.
My heart pounds as I run and return with a candle.
What I see is almost more concerning than if she was unconscious.
Laura sits, her legs spread wide on the ground, with a teacup on her skirts, and a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting open against the wall.
She groans and mumbles some unflattering things about me when the light hits her.
"Leksi?" She slurs, her eyebrows drawing together and creating a little crease between them.
I blink.
She's drunk.
If there was one person I'd say was least likely to ever be drunk, I'd have picked her in a heart beat, yet here she sits, like a small child, drinking spirits from a chipped teacup.
The scene is so strange I can't help but investigate.
That and I'm not leaving her here in this state.
"What exactly has driven you to drink whiskey from a teacup?" I make my words light and teasing, crouching in front of her.
She glares at me, a stray curl falling in front of her face.
"You." My heart stutters, and it takes me longer than it should to respond.
"Me?"
She sighs, shrugging. "In part."
Curiosity pounds behind my eyes, my heart thumping irregularly.
"I'm going to need more than that."
She sits up, face becoming serious. The effect is ruined by a small hiccup she lets out.
"The thing is, I've seen something I definitely wasn't supposed to, and now it falls on me to tell you about it. That being said, I'm probably the last person who should tell you."
She nods matter-of-factly.
"Oh?" I want to beg her to tell me, to ask question after question about what she means, but I know that would get me nowhere.
"Indeed. And I have to tell you, even though I don't want to, because if the roles were reversed I would want you to tell me." Her shoulders slump, and she looks truly forlorn like this. Rumpled uniform, destroyed hair, flushed cheeks.
"Spit it out, Limonskiy." Her pain has always made me stupid, and this time is no exception. Her old nickname slides off my tongue before I can stop it. I comfort myself with the fact she's probably too drunk to notice.
She takes a large breath, and then spits the words out so fast I almost don't catch them.
"I saw Sara kissing someone else today." She pauses as though I should react to this as seriously as she's making it out to be. When I say nothing and just look at her expectantly she frowns. "In the hallway." Her words are those of an impatient teacher waiting for a pupil to understand what they're teaching. She sighs, frustrated at my lack of comprehension. "And I don't presume to know what you two are doing, or to know whether or not her kissing someone else means she loves you any less than you love her." This stumps me. I blink, shock surely showing on my face. Finally, Laura seems satisfied, she smiles sadly at me before reaching forward and grabbing my hand.
Her fingers are soft and slightly cold, sending familiar sparks shooting through me. She looks genuinely sad for me.
"I just… thought you should know."
Nothing is making sense, so I decide to ask the first question that comes to mind.
"Who told you I love Sara?"
She nods in understanding, pulling back her hand. Despite it having little warmth in the first place, its absence leaves me feeling chilled.
"Adah."
I tuck aside that information for later, but decide to address Laura first.
"I've never been in love with her."
She just blinks at me.
"W-What?"
"We've never been together, Adah and Amber mentioned that she might like me, but if what you said is true, it seems rather unlikely. I don't… I don't have anyone I feel that way about."
That's all I allow. Technically a lie, but one that suits us both fine.
She listens patiently, barely reacting until I finish. There's a beat of silence before she answers:
"Well. Now I really have something to drink whiskey from a teacup about."
A surprised snort-like laugh bursts out of me as she takes another sip from her cup, completely serious. I try to ignore how my heart swells seeing a new side of her. Try to ignore the voice that tells me that I want to memorize every facet of this woman. Before I can respond, her eyes meet mine, genuinely curious.
"Why is it always you that I look the most pathetic around?"
This time I manage to smother my laugh before it slips out.
"I don't know, I've seen you be plenty pathetic around others."
The look she gives me could wither another man easily, but I just grin. A familiar expression takes over her face: she's pouting. She releases a small huff and slides further down the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.
"How do you say 'I hate you' in Slavokranian?" I know she's making fun of me, but the words strike a cord in me, and my response is out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
"You hate me?" It sounds far too vulnerable even to my ears. Sweat beads on my neck.
"I think you might be the drunk one because that was definitely Anglorian Aleksi." I shiver at the sound of my name slurred on her lips.
"Smartass."
Relief and disappointment weigh on me, but I don't have time to dwell on it, because she's still looking at me expectantly.
I suppose I should've accepted it a long time ago, that Laura makes me do things out of character. But it's not until I'm leaning in and putting my lips a hairs width away from her ear that I finally accept defeat.
"Lyub te ya." I whisper the words I've wanted to say to her for years into the shell of her ear, and, to my infinite satisfaction, I watch as she shivers, gooseflesh popping up on her arms.
I love you.
I told her in the only way I could. In the only way she wouldn't understand. As I lean back, I brace myself for her to repeat it, thinking she's insulting me. My heart thumps unevenly at the idea of hearing it from her lips. A smile is already forming when I see her face.
She's glaring at me something fierce.
"You have a sick sense of humour, Aleksi, and I refuse to be subject to it a moment longer." Shock bullets through me and it makes me react slower than usual.
She goes to stand up, almost knocking over the teacup and the bottle in the process. Unsteady on her feet, she tilts precariously as I right the bottle and teacup on a nearby crate before reaching for her.
It's been years since I've been this close to her. She smells the same, like vanilla and warmth. She's so soft under my hands, and I wince at the sparks that still shoot from the very tips of my fingertips, the only place I allow myself to make contact with her.
She scowls at me from below her eyelashes, swaying unsteadily.
"Let go." She struggles pathetically, making half-hearted attempts to push me away. "I'm not done my drink." She juts her chin out and gets a familiar stubborn glint in her eyes.
I sigh and whisper a prayer for forgiveness.
In one swift movement I take the cup and down the last sip, barely a full swallow, and hoist Laura over my shoulder.
She roars indignantly, swearing at me like a sailor as I attempt to quiet her so she doesn't wake the whole house.
Getting her up to her room is an uphill battle. Though she's much lighter than a lot of the farm equipment I'm used to moving, her squirming makes her hard to carry carefully.
Multiple times along the way I have to stop, whether to pick up her apron when she ripped it off, or to hold her hair back as she was sick into a bucket I had the foresight to bring.
It feels like hours have passed by the time we reach her room, luckily at the end of the hallway, far enough from the others they hopefully won't hear her drunk fumbling.
The whole way she's releasing a torrent of insults, that are frankly creative considering how drunk she is, all about me.
Maybe it should hurt, but all I can do is smile.
A strange warmth tingles in my chest, spreading its way down to my fingers and toes.
It becomes almost unbearable, a burning heat just behind my ribs, screaming to be let out. I dutifully ignore it as I sit her on the bed, kneeling in front of her to unlace her work boots.
Sparks more violent than any I've felt before shoot up my fingers from where I barely brush her ankles.
"Leksi."
I hum low in my throat as another wave of warmth floods me.
"You better not try to lift my skirt this time."
I dip my head to hide my smile, my shoulders tensing from the laugh I struggle to keep in.
When her boots are off I coax her under the blankets, making sure they're secure around her and putting a bucket near her just in case.
Her eyes are already closed, a small worry mark between her brows even now. Trying to leave quietly, I back away slowly.
Her hand shoots out like a snake, wrapping around my wrist before I can react.
It's warm and small, and almost knocks me over, the force of her reaching out, of touching me first.
"Aleksi?"
Her eyes are barely open, rare vulnerability shining in her eyes.
I crouch next to her, face-to-face.
"Yes, Laura?"
Sadness fills her expression suddenly and I'm struck with wanting to make it go away, to see it replaced by her wry sarcasm and smirks.
"Why is it always you?"
It hits like a punch to the stomach, and all I can do is smile sadly at her. Before I can answer, she continues.
"Why did it have to be you? Because you hate me now and I can't bear it."
Actual tears create shining trails down her face, eyes closing.
"Laura," I whisper as her breathing starts to even out, "I could never hate you. I'm sorry for being an ass, it won't happen again."
I'm not sure if it's because she finally slips off to sleep or if she heard what I said, but her eyebrows finally relax, a blissfully empty expression erasing the sorrow.
With shaking hands I wipe away her tears, careful not to wake her, and vacate the room.
When the door is closed, my hand rests on the handle, my forehead digging into the rough wood of the door.
I can't move.
"I can't bear it."
That makes two of us.