The slightest words you said
Have all gone to my head...

They mean everything
And leave me no choice...

I'm a lightweight.
Better be careful what you say.
With every word I'm blown away.
You're in control of my heart.

— "Lightweight," Demi Lovato

It's hard to believe that this little business Sweeney Todd and Eleanor Lovett have carried together has been going on for a couple of months already. Surprisingly enough, no suspicions about their scandalous establishment have been raised. Sweeney can still remember how he replied to Mrs. Lovett's ingenious solution to their problems.

"Mrs. Lovett, you're a bloody wonder, imminently practical and yet appropriate as always. How I've lived without you all these years, I'll never know!"

He thought about this moment they shared as he sat in a booth in a back corner of the pie shop, regarding the moment as one of the few happy memories that he and Mrs. Lovett shared, seeing that the majority of the memories Sweeney had categorized under "Mrs. Lovett" were rather, well, not necessarily pleasant in a third person's perspective. He recalls a particular one, where his mood was anything but happy that day.

"'Wait!' Why did I wait? You told me to 'wait!' Now he'll never come again!"

Sweeney remembers that day, taking another swig of gin and refilling his shot glass. He was so close to finally getting even with that bloody bastard judge, but since Mrs. Lovett had told him to "wait," his chance at redemption slipped away from his fingertips, interrupted by Anthony just as he was about slit Turpin's throat.

The aftermath of Sweeney's stolen glory was none too great on Eleanor's part. Downing another shot of gin, he recalls that very day ending with much yelling, screaming, and beating the living day lights out of Mrs. Lovett. He remembers how her tears fell from her eyes to her wrists, a combination of crimson cuts and teardrops forming on her arms. He knows he shouldn't feel so, but he gets a sick sense of satisfaction as he thinks about her punishment. Immediately after the thought fills him with a twisted kind of comfort, an odd pang of guilt greets him in his gut. It feels strangely out of place. Sweeney never likes these random rendezvouses with Guilt. He likes to think that his feelings about certain things are always right. Downing his probably fifteenth shot of gin, he tries to push to feeling away.

She took your chance, he thinks to himself. She deserved it.

The present feeling of guilt lingers, however. With the guilt comes thoughts of all the good Mrs. Lovett has done for Sweeney, which mocks him even more. Despite how harsh Sweeney can be to her at times, Mrs. Lovett continues to provide him with his meals, a comfortable living area, and an annoyingly sunny smile that greets him every morning. Defeated, he begrudgingly gives in to the guilt.

Damn you, Sweeney, he thinks. Why must you be so bloody soft?

In the end, he doesn't regret feeling sorry for how he's acted towards Mrs. Lovett. He huffs at the thought of even feeling sorry. Was such a thing even possible?

For the first time, he realizes how much Mrs. Lovett has done for him, from giving him his razors back to giving him a place to sleep to giving him someone he can always count on having a conversation with. Granted, Eleanor's loquacious character can be quite irritating at times, but it was nice to have someone always filling the silence now and then. Losing count of how many shots he's downed, he drinks up more gin and thinks back to how he called Mrs. Lovett a "bloody wonder," when she brought up the idea of baking his customers into pies. Sweeney - though he would never actually say it out loud - will admit that the statement is quite accurate. Eleanor, being the thrifty, clever woman she was, came up with the efficient way of disposing the "body mouldering away upstairs," which saved both her baking business and Sweeney's sanity - he really needed to take his anger out on someone. There's no doubt that it was a bloody brilliant idea. This brings a smile to Sweeney's face, which is odd because Sweeney seldom smiled. He immediately wipes it off just as Eleanor enters the room. Sweeney didn't want to let go of his intimidating demeanor, let alone allow Eleanor see him grinning.

Cheerful as she normally is, Eleanor sets Sweeney's dinner down on the table in front of him. "Here you go, love," she says in her usual sing-song voice. "I've already eaten, so go ahead and enjoy yourself for the night. Just leave the dishes in the sink and I'll deal with them in the morning." With that, Mrs. Lovett turns her heel and starts for her bedroom. In the doorway, she looks back at Sweeney and says, "Goodnight."

Before she leaves, Sweeney opens his mouth to say something, but closes it without a second thought. The door to the stairway slams shut, and Sweeney is left with alone with his dinner and a strange feeling of missed opportunity, just like with Turpin, but in a more melancholy sense, like he tossed a coin in a fountain the moment he decided to keep it. He meant to say something to her, but his pride got in the way. Although he knows that Mrs. Lovett deserves this small bit of recognition, he can't grant her access beyond his hard outer shell, which has taken him a long time to cultivate. Time in that filthy jail cell hardened him. He's suffered so much, and putting up his walls has been his only form of defense, emotionally and physically - other than his beloved razors, of course. He couldn't afford to let them down now. But there was something about Mrs. Lovett that made him feel safe without his walls. He couldn't exactly pinpoint it, whether it was the fact that she was his only form of a friend or whether it was how she continues to tolerate his habitual brooding, but there was something about the woman that made Sweeney Todd feel okay with being vulnerable from time to time.

Sweeney shudders at the thought of even allowing himself to be vulnerable, let alone allowing the thought of Mrs. Lovett make him feel comfortable with that sort of vulnerability.

Did I just think that? Sweeney wonders.

Putting these thoughts on a shelf, Sweeney looks up from his food, locking his gaze on the door Eleanor just exited from. In his head he silently says, Thank you.

It's funny how the simplest of words can be the hardest to say.

—

"Goodnight, love," Eleanor says before kissing Toby on his forehead and tucking him into bed.

"Goodnight, mum," Toby responds. "And, again, I can't thank you enough for taking me in. Saved me from a lot of lashings, you did."

Eleanor simply smiles at the sweet boy in front of her as she knelt down by his bedside. "I love you, son," she says, almost in a whisper. Instinctively, Toby replies with, "I love you too." Eleanor plants another kiss on his forehead before heading out of his room towards her own personal quarters.

"I love you." Those three beautiful words rang in and out of her head as she made her way to her bedroom. Eleanor so desperately longed to say those words to the man her heart was after. She looked down at the floor, as if it were see through, trying to picture her favorite barber sitting there in his booth. She longed to say those words as much as she longed for Sweeney's reciprocation of the lovely sentence. But alas, there was no point in saying such a meaningful phrase until Eleanor was sure that these feelings flowed both ways, and by her current observations, Eleanor knew that she was not going to be saying those words to him anytime soon. The man hardly shows any interest in her whatsoever. In fact, what he's shown to her was the very opposite of what Eleanor's shown to him - nothing but indifference, aversion, and the ordinary crass remark here and there. She questions why she continues to bother with him, thinking about that painful day while she undid and combed through her messy up-do. She glances down at her arm as she brings the comb through her hair. Though many months have passed since that dreadful day, the scars still appeared fresh on her skin, just as the events remained fresh in her memory.

She remembers it as if it were yesterday. Eleanor's attention had been drawn to the ruckus going on above her shop after she'd heard a few shouts and saw a half shaven Turpin stomping down the stairs. She ran up to go see what all the funny business was about just to be greeted by an enraged Sweeney Todd. She remembers her failed attempt at trying to soothe the irate barber as she started undoing the laces of her gown and corset; she was never too fond of the relatively tedious task. Eleanor recalls how she tried to coo Sweeney back into his usual, blank stupor, "Easy now. Hush, love, hush. I keep telling you - " Before she uttered another word, Sweeney broke into a fiery fit. The harrowing memories of that event forced their way into Eleanor's thoughts as she rolled the last bit of her stockings off and slipped into her nightgown. Her mind became clouded with images of Sweeney slashing his razor at her and screaming while he beat to the ground repeatedly. She left his barber shop with hardly any strength left to get back up. Eleanor could not begin to describe the excruciating pain her petite frame had endured during that fallout. The pain was still so vivid in her memory that Eleanor could've sworn that she felt her body ache as she crawled into bed - or perhaps she just overworked herself during the dinner rush that evening.

On the verge of tears, Eleanor shook her head violently, pushing those horrible memories out of her head, only to have them disturb her peace of mind once again. Even after what Sweeney had done to her that day, why did she still have the same feelings she had for him before? Even though Eleanor knows that there's no chance of Sweeney ever feeling the same about her, why did she continuously fall back into her infatuation?

It's because you're a hopeless romantic doomed to idiocy, a voice in her head told her.

Lying there in bed, her head resting comfortably on a pillow, it came to the point where she had to remind herself, "Why do I love him?" And as if on cue, several reasons came flooding in to answer her question. She shamelessly adores every single idiosyncrasy he has, in both Benjamin Barker and Sweeney Todd. With Benjamin, she adores his sunny spirit, especially his effortless ability to get a laugh out of her. She adores that handsome grin that made her cheeks flush every time he flashed a smile, as well as his warm, brown eyes that always managed to make her melt. However, that same, suave smile and those same, easy eyes remained with him despite how much he changed. When he became Sweeney, Eleanor found herself adoring his passion and determination, especially when he exhibited how much he wants to avenge his family. She found herself adoring his zealous, ambitious character. As she came to know Sweeney, likewise she came to know his intimidating strength, both physically and emotionally. Despite the intimidating factor, such strength only fed Eleanor's desire for him. Eleanor particularly admires a certain aspect of Sweeney's which most women of her day and age would've considered rather abhorrent. The way Sweeney's adept skill with a razor fascinated Eleanor will forever remain an enigma to her. When his razors were not damning her own flesh, his precise cuts and clean shaves left her inscrutably entranced. For some reason, his strong, gripping hands and firm, steady arms never fail to make her swoon.

As Eleanor slowly drifts off to sleep, she imagines her own, delicate hand clasped in Sweeney's contrastingly rough grasp. She pictures herself wrapped in his firm arms, his warmth enveloping her adversely smaller frame. As she clutches the sheets closer to her body, she imagines Sweeney lying there with her, his arms laced around her waist, his heart beating steadily as she leaned back into his chest.

And as Eleanor dozes off to sleep, she thinks about how breathless she'd feel once Sweeney's lips finally grace hers. She pictures how the event will exactly unfurl. As Sweeney would pull away from the kiss, Eleanor imagines him charmingly uttering those blissful words to her at last.

"I love you."

It's funny how the simplest of words can occupy such a large capacity in one's mind.

—

Eleanor woke up to the same routine she's woken up to for the past couple of months, ending the euphoric, amatory dream she was having. She readies herself for the day, wakes Toby and Sweeney, washes the dishes from Sweeney's previous dinner, makes Sweeney and Toby's breakfast, serves it to them, and then prepares her pie shop for incoming customers.

She sets up Sweeney and Toby's breakfast in the back booth of the shop, where they normally eat their daily meals. Toby instantly started eating his food right as Eleanor placed the plates on the table. Sweeney groggily made his way down to the shop, where Eleanor, Toby, and his morning meal were awaiting him. As usual, Eleanor flashed him a cheery smile, following accordingly with her morning salutation.

"Mornin', love. Hope you had a nice sleep. Breakfast's on the table. You know what to do with the dishes when you're done." Eleanor starts sweeping around the eatery.

Sweeney takes a seat in the booth in front of Toby. He inspects the food on his plate thoughtfully. He thinks of what he intended to say to Mrs. Lovett last night. Sweeney quickly finishes his breakfast as Mrs. Lovett finishes up her chores.

Before retiring to his barber shop for the rest of the day, he stops by Mrs. Lovett, who was refilling flower vases all around the eatery. He awkwardly faces her, placing a hand on her shoulder, which unknowingly shoots bolts of electricity through her. She freezes under his touch, as such an action coming from him was very rare. She stood frigidly, waiting for Sweeney's next move.

He clears his throat, uncomfortable with his new found friendliness towards Mrs. Lovett. He knows exactly what he wants to say, but something's caught in his throat. Along with his unlikely friendliness, comes another discovery of an unseeming weakness, which is somewhat related to fear. Fear that he'll fail. Fear that he'll appear sheepish in front of her and lose his valuable reputation. Waving his worries aside, he chokes it out and says, "Thank you, Eleanor." Feeling the blood rush the his cheeks, he immediately turns his back and hastily makes his way to his barber shop.

Sweeney stops Eleanor in her tracks with his irregular display of gratitude. At first, her mind could not fully comprehend what he just said to her. Before she was able to question him, Sweeney was out of the pie shop, walking up the stairs to the only things Turpin didn't take away from him.

Eleanor doesn't realize it at first, her mind still numb from Sweeney's hand being on her shoulder, but she soon apprehends how that was the first time Sweeney ever truly took notice of her. She finds his simple words forming a giddy, girlish grin on her face that stretched to her eyes as she replayed what he said to her in her head over and over again.

"Thank you, Eleanor."
"Thank you, Eleanor."
"Thank you, Eleanor."
"Thank you, Eleanor."

He even said my name, she thinks happily. That small moment that they shared remains in her head for the rest of the day.

It's funny how the simplest of words can mean so much more than the greatest of speeches.

Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm so excited to be starting this new Sweenett fan fiction. This chapter took me forever to write! I had written this before, but I was inspired to restart this fan fiction after reading Passing Strange by Pamena, which boosted my want to write a story for this unlikely ship. Also, my previous version of Tragic Love, was terribly written, so I wanted to rewrite it. You may have noticed that in my version, Sweeney is rather abusive towards Mrs. Lovett. Now I know that's not what's depicted in the 2007 movie, but you could pretty much see it happening, seeing how angry Sweeney was in that scene and knowing his naturally violent instincts. Besides, this kind of thing was considered the norm during the 1800s. I looked it up. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and future chapters to come! Reviews are always appreciated!

— Justine