NOTES 1: I like the books, obviously. And although there are things that I don't like about the movie, I still like it. A lot. I wrote this story because it's something my friend Fifi asked me to as a belated birthday present. She wanted a movieverse Enoch/Olive story. At first, I got a little confused because, despite the amount of screen time together, very little was explained about the two. In fact, other than Enoch being portrayed as an emo, angst-ridden teen (which Fin Macmillan did rather brilliantly, I think), he nearly had no interaction at all with other characters. So then my wonderful sister suggested that I should just do what Tim did – which is to ignore almost all other facts from the books and just write what I wanted to write. After all, this story is a fanfiction. There are things that are completely off-canon from what was in the books, and I meant it that way for the sake of the story. If you guys don't like it, feel free to read other stories that you prefer more than my story. If you do, I'm glad that you do. And oh, Fifi, happy birthday!
"My past has tasted bitter for years now,
So I wield an iron fist
Grace is just weakness
Or so I've been told.
I've been cold, I've been merciless
But the blood on my hands scares me to death
Maybe I'm waking up today."
- I'll Be Good, Jaymes Young
Their relationship was an odd one. Even more than Jacob's with Emma. What those two had seemed a lot more normal than theirs – and that was saying something, since he dated a woman who was technically his grandfather's ex-girlfriend. But seeing that Emma still looked like she was only sixteen instead of somewhere around ninety, it didn't really seem all that weird. After all, judging from the way they sucked each other's face on hourly basis, and all the suspicious amount of time they spent together when no one was watching, their relationship was just as gross any other relationship. Meaning, despite their Peculiarity, they were actually pretty normal.
Unlike Enoch and Olive.
The boy who didn't like to touch and the girl who couldn't touch.
("I'm so sorry, Olive. All these years, I never appreciated you. I didn't see how lucky I was. I got used to having you there, I never realised…")
He was a hundred and seventeen and he was still none the wiser.
("Why are you always so mean to me, Enoch? What did I do wrong?")
Letting out a frustrated scream, Enoch smashed his hand on his clay dolls violently.
Enoch was only seventeen when he escaped his parents' basement with a broken hand, a bruised face, and his back full of whips. He no longer remembered why the beating started in the first place, but he was sure his phobia of touch began right then. He ran aimlessly, his legs could barely carry him after a few hours, but he knew he couldn't afford to stop, lest his parents (read: his father) sent people to go after him. It was after two days when he could take no more, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he fell face first to the ground. But before he could feel the harsh ground kissing his face, a hand had caught him. It was Miss Peregrine. He was a lot taller than she was, but he was so emaciated that she nearly had little to no problem at all when she tried to pull him onto a wagon. After she made sure that he was tucked safely under the blankets, hidden from curious eyes, the Bird urged her horses to take her and her first child to safety of her loop.
It took Enoch six months to recover from his wounds, and once he was deemed wholly healed by the headmistress, the necromancer wasted no time and immediately began to help around the mansion. For the next five years, it was only the two of them taking care of the big house. They rarely talked, though it wasn't for lack of trying on Miss Peregrine's part. She did try; always making small talks with him during breakfast, lunch, dinner, and when they were doing their chores. But after seventeen years living with his parents, seven of those years spent in fear of what his father would do to him because of his Peculiarity, made it hard for Enoch to open up to Miss Peregrine. It didn't help that for the first three years, whenever the headmistress touched the boy, accidentally or not, he would jump about a foot into the air before avoiding the woman for the whole day. He was trying hard though, he tried to at least stop flinching whenever Miss Peregrine touched him, albeit briefly. He still wasn't good with talking, still prefering the company of his clays, but that was a start.
It was on his fifth year when Miss Peregrine brought home two new comers. It was the super-strong siblings, Victor and Bronwyn. Victor was seventeen while his younger sister was only ten. When they were introduced, Enoch learned that the two lived with their evil step-father who had a hobby of beating up Victor before bed time. One day, Bronwyn saw the man hurt her brother, and in her anger, she snapped the man's neck. They were on the run from the town's people when they ran into Miss Peregrine. Just like Enoch was, the woman took the children under her care, taking them into her loop so they would be safe. Victor didn't talk much, and he was just as damaged as Enoch was, so they got along rather well after sometime. Poor Bronwyn though, her only playmate was the clay doll Enoch made for her. But the girl cherished it and she never complained about the lack of children her age. When she wrapped her tiny arms around Enoch to express her gratitude, it was the first time the moody necromancer didn't pull back when someone touched him.
And for the next two decades, that was his only physical contact.
"Emma is angry, you know," Jacob told him as the two of them were fixing everything that was broken about the ship. "You've to be thankful that she's not the one with the fire power, or else she'd probably incinerate you into bits."
"Your girlfriend is always angry at me, Jakey," Enoch commented off-handedly as he hammered down the nail onto the broken chair. "It's hardly new."
If the boy was annoyed at the nickname, he did a great job at hiding and instead, continued with his incessant questions. "Why did you do it anyway? Bronwyn told me what happened back at the theatre. She said you were distraught when – "
("One day, you will be so sorry, Enoch O'Connor.")
"Always with the questions," Enoch snapped, swinging his hammer a little too hard, he ended up breaking the chair all over again. Cursing under his breath, he said, "Will you shut up already? Just because I agreed to have you helping me doesn't mean we're friends all of the sudden."
"Oh, I would never go that far," Jacob said, his usually kind voice sounded cold and cruel. "I know you don't need friends. After all, death is your only friend, right?"
When the younger boy left, Enoch noticed that he'd never felt so alone before.
(But that is what you want, isn't it, boy?)
(Shut up.)
When the twins came, Enoch was finally feeling a little suffocated with all the routines and schedules the Bird had. It had been ten years since she rescued him, and altough he would forever be grateful about it, he couldn't help but to feel exhausted. On the rare times they were allowed out of the loop to go get something from the market, Enoch felt a huge pang whenever he saw how normal people were living their lives without having the fear of being abused by their own family like he was or the siblings were, or chased out of their town like the twins were. If he was a normal person, he would probably have a family of his own by then. He could be a doctor too – he'd always been a smart one since he was a kid. When he saw just how much he'd lost, by the time they got back into the mansion, he spent the whole day locked up in his room, creating dolls of a family of four. He would watch emotionlessly when the clay-children ran all over his room, while the clay-parents tried to make their children behave. In the end though, he would kick them across the room, destroying them into a hundred pieces before he left for dinner.
He rarely talked to Victor other than discussing how tiring their chores were, or making a guess about how old exactly their headmistress was. But one time, his head was so messed up that before he could properly process the thought, the question had slipped out of his mouth, catching Victor off guard that it made Enoch's cheeks tainted red a bit once he realised what he'd done.
"Have you ever thought about growing up?" Enoch had asked one day.
"Excuse me?" Victor said, cocking an eye brow. The necromancer was so embarrassed that the little red marks on his cheeks had gone into a full blown blush. But it had happened, so there was no point on pretending it didn't.
"Have you ever thought of living a life as a normal? Of having a family of your own?"
It took Victor a few seconds to answer, shrugging when he finally spoke again. "No, not really. I mean, my children or grandchildren would inherit my Peculiarity, right? If they would have to live in fear for their whole life, it would be better if I stayed a kid forever. I wouldn't want to subject my children to the life I have now."
"Fine. You don't want children. But don't you ever wish of having a real life? Out of the loop, where you could have a proper job, have a girlfriend maybe."
"Nah, I don't. My place is here, mate. With you, my sister, the twins, and Miss P. Besides, growing up never seem so interesting to me. All the responsibilities? No, thank you."
That was the end of their discussion. Enoch never mentioned the question to anyone again, not even to Victor. In fact, he never thought about growing up again for a long time.
He only did when he held a lifeless Victor in his arms, yelling for Miss Peregrine to come.
("Bring him back! Bring him back, Enoch, please!")
The way Bronwyn sobbed her pleas would forever haunt him.
Before his power manifested, there was a time when Enoch imagined himself to be a sailor. He often pictured himself sailing the seas, travelling the world and seeing all the wonders the world could offer to him. But then it happened, the day he found he could animate things to life, and all his dreams were crushed into smitherens. He never thought that a century later, he would be steering the wheel of a huge ship that had sunk probably during the first world war. He would have felt a little giddy at the thought if it wasn't for what had transpired in the past forty-eight hours since they defeated Barron. Althought he was probably the smartest one in their little family, he always knew he was the biggest idiot among all the kids.
"There you are," a voice said, surprising him a little. Looking over his shoulder, he found Bronwyn entered the room, holding hands with little Claire. "I've been looking for you for hours."
"Hello, Brownwyn, Claire. To what do I owe you the pleasure of your company?" Enoch said in a bored tone without taking his eyes off the vast sea in front of him. He truly did not see it coming when he felt Bronwyn's powerful fist dug into his ribs, causing the wind to knock out of his lungs. Coughing in a fit, he said, "What the bloody hell was that for?"
"For making Olive cry. Again," Bronwyn said, rolling her eyes in exasperation because she obviously believed Enoch was stupid for asking that question. Judging from the way Claire was nodding her head, he knew the sentiment was shared between the two girls.
"Well, you don't have to be abusive about it," the necromancer said, rolling his eyes as he rubbed his wounded side.
"You deserve it," Claire said. The sound of teeth grinding on the back of her head told Enoch that if he were to put his hand there, her back-mouth would chop his hand off.
"Honestly, Enoch. This fear you have is irrational. We always know how she feels about you. There's no point of you doubting it. Especially now that we no longer living in the loop," Brownwyn said, sighing heavily in a way that reminded Enoch the girl was the second oldest kid after himself.
"All the more reason why we won't work," Enoch remarked. Running a hand through his hair, he suddenly felt so exhausted he could just drop on his feet anytime. He hadn't been asleep for two days, and his energy was depleted greatly with him having to keep those skeletons going to help around the ship. It was a miracle he hadn't passed out yet.
That was just physically. Mentally? He'd been exhausted for decades.
"You're a good person, Enoch. Even though you're a big grump for most of the time, you're always there for us. Now, it's time for you to let someone in because you need it. You have always needed it," Claire said, her juvenile voice was the only thing that betrayed her true age.
"You've nearly lost her. Don't make the same mistake twice," Brownwyn added, and her words felt like a huge slap in his face.
His grip on the wheel tightened as images of Olive's cold body flashed in his mind. Death wasn't something new to Enoch. After all, his idea of fun time was to reanimate corpses. He never minded death before because it felt like the only constant thing about life. Death was fair because in the end, everyone would always die, even peculiars who lived in the loop. There was no cheating death. But when he saw Olive's unmoving figure and felt how lifeless she was, he no longer liked death. Inside of him, his cold and black heart that only beat for his fiery little fire felt like it stopped beating along with Olive's. He didn't realise when his breathing started to go erratic as his mind kept on torturing him with the possibility of living a life without Olive. His head that had been pouding for hours because of the amount of time he forced himself to keep all those skeletons alive was now killing him. His chest, where his heart resided, was hurting so bad as if it was punctured by a thousand needles. Enoch vaguely heard Claire's voice talking to him, felt Bronwyn's hand pulling on the hem of his sweater. But as he felt something wet rolled down his nose, he lost what little left of his energy and fainted.
The last thing he remembered was Olive's beautiful voice calling out his name.
He was forty when the girls came. Emma and Olive; the girl who was lighter than air and the girl who could summon fire in the palm of her hand. They were both only sixteen back then, much too young for him. They met in a circus where their parents sold of them, no longer able to deal with their Peculiarities. The girls ran away together once they learned that they weren't the only ones with powers, and they were on the run for a whole week before Miss Peregrine found them. He was just showing his newest creation to Victor when the Bird called for them, saying that they, Bronwyn and the twins were to welcome the new members. With each hand being held by the twins while the super-strong siblings following behind him, also holding hands, he went down to the living room with a permanent scowl on his face, annoyed that his 'play time' was interrupted. However, the moment Enoch saw the two of them sitting in the large sofa by the fireplace, dutifully drinking their hot coco that Miss P had made for them, he lost his scowl and was frozen in place, as if the twins had just petrified him. His attention was immediately set on the girl with her fiery red hair and stunning green eyes. The girl was pretty, but not in the way that would make people stop and stare at her. Compared to her blonde friend, she looked rather plain. But for some reason, she was the one who caught his attention. When she greeted him with a shy hello, looking up at him with her pretty green eyes, completely ignoring the way her friend was nudging on the ribs to not feel attached already to anyone, Enoch could only nod his head stiffly without taking her glove-covered hand. He vaguely noticed that the blonde one was introducing herself, but his ears were buzzing and the only thing he had in mind was how delicate the redheaded one looked.
He found the irony that someone so vulnerable-looking had the power to destroy everything with the simple touch of her hand. Enoch was so lost in thought he barely realised when Miss Peregrine told him to take the girls up and show them to their room. It took Bronwyn pinching hard on his hand for him to finally snap out of his reverie, before nodding at the girls to follow him to their rooms. The blonde girl, Emma was her name, merely muttered her thanks to him and quickly entered her room. It was obvious that she was still traumatised and probably would find it a little hard to trust people so easily. The redhead though, Olive, was another story. After Enoch dropped her to her room, he was about to turn to his own room, when he felt a hand around his wrist. For the second time that night, he froze like a statue, although for different reason. Apparently, the girl noticed his reaction toward her little gesture, and hastily dropped his hand as if she could set it on fire through her glove. From the way she fidgeted, Enoch could see that she probably thought he feared she would burn him to crisps.
"I'm sorry," she said in a rush. "I didn't mean to overstep or anything. I just…I just wanted to say thank you. You turned around so quickly I was worried you'd be gone before I had the chance to tell you that. I promise I wouldn't touch without permission the next time."
In his head, Enoch wanted to say, "It's okay. You have nothing to worry. I'm not worried about you setting me up on fire. In fact, feel free to do so because I've been feeling dead for so long. I was just surprised to feel your hand on mine. You see, it's been over a decade since the last time anyone really touched me that I forgot what it felt like to feel someone's hand other than mine."
But, so typical of him, the words that escaped his lips were, "Next time you want to talk to me, just do it without touching me."
The look on Olive's face was so sad that he suddenly felt the urge to apologise. Unfortunately, Enoch was Enoch, and instead of saying sorry, he merely sneered at the girl and hurried off to his room.
When he finally relented to Victor's nagging and told him about it, the other boy laughed at him.
Prick.
His head was still hurting, his heart was beating madly in his chest, and he felt like all the bones in his body had been melted off. There was so much noise all around him, had it not been for the fact that he felt like dying, he would be tempted to snap at them to shut their trap. There was someone wiping the sweat on his forehead with a washcloth, and he unconsiously hummed in contempt at the cool feeling the washcloth gave. In an instance, all the noises died down and he realised that by making a sound, he'd alerted them about his state of awake. Enoch knew that he had to wake up sooner or later, so he decided that he should just get done with it. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened his eyes. What usually was such a simple task to do suddenly felt ridiculously difficult. It felt like his eyelids were glued shut, and it took great effort for him to finally be able to pry them open. At first, all he saw was blurry figures as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. After a few seconds, he slowly began to see who were in the room with him. Standing across his bed, leaning by the door, was Jacob with Emma by his side. The obnoxious couple looked at him with an unreadable look in their eyes though they said nothing. From behind them, he saw the twins, Hugh, and Fiona, peeking in between the gap Jacob and Emma created. A little to the left was Miss Peregrine with Bronwyn and Fiona, the first one looking at him seriously while the girls looked at him in worry. On the right side of the room was Horace and Millard, for once the two of them were quiet instead of bickering. Lastly, sitting by his bed side, was Olive.
"And the Sleeping Beauty has finally awaken! You okay, princess?" Millard exclaimed. Despite his annoyingly loud voice, Enoch was thankful for his initiative to break the awkward silence with his usual ill-timedly jokes.
"Sleeping Beauty? I think he's more like the Prince of the Underworld," Horace quips.
"Yeah!" Hugh cheekily commented, slapping his hand on Fiona's extended one.
"Miss Bloom, Mr Portman," the Bird said, shushing the kids immediately. "Will you please take the children to the kitchen? We need all the help we have to finish our dinner."
"Alright, Miss Peregrine," Jacob said, nodding his head obediently. "You heard her, kids. Now, come on. We've got loads to do."
The children started to groan in protest. But when Emma aimed a well-practised glare at them, they said nothing more and followed the two teenagers in the direction of the kitchen. The only ones left in his room were Miss Peregrine and Olive, who had left her initial position and was busying herself preparing tea on the teapot by his nightstand. Enoch was watching the girl closely, sort of hoping to catch her eyes because he missed her, when he felt the bed dipped beside him, signaling that the headmistress had taken a seat on his bed. Albeit unwillingly, he took his gaze off Olive and turned to look at the ymbryne. Those hypnotice blue-grey eyes of hers were looking deeply into his brown ones, and despite his old age of a hundred and seventeen, whenever the woman looked at him that, he felt very much like the beaten down seventeen year old that she saved all those years ago.
"How are you feeling, Enoch?" Miss Peregrine asked, her voice had taken that smooth and consoling tone she always had when she was soothing Bronwyn after she had her nightmares about Victor.
"My head's killing me," Enoch admitted in a small voice, his throat felt dry and sore. "And I don't think I can move for the next few hours."
"Of course. You forced yourself too hard today, keeping all those skeletons going for house without resting. In case you were wondering, when you dropped unconscious back in the control room, you had a cardiac arrest. You were dead for about…" she took a brief glance at her pocket watch. "Ten minutes. We thought we'd lost you, when you suddenly took healthy gulps of air. It was a miracle."
"Wait, what?" Enoch asked, completely baffled. "What…what do you mean by dead?"
Miss Peregrine was about to answer him when Olive slammed the lid of the teapot a little too hard. Whipping his head in her direction, he saw that she'd looked at him first, and she had tears in those beautiful green eyes of hers. "She meant exactly what it is, Enoch. You were dead. You stopped breathing and your heart wasn't beating. For ten minutes, you were dead. For ten minutes, you left."
"Olive," Miss Peregrine began, but the girl had lifted her hand up to cut the woman off.
"He has to know, Miss P," Olive said as tears kept on falling down her face. "He has to know that we do care for him. He has to know that he can't go around thinking that he's alone in this world, and that when he…when he dies, we will be beyond devastated – I will be devastated."
There was so much that Enoch wanted to say to her, starting out with his long-overdue apology. But, of course, when he finally did, none of what he wanted to say were the words that came out of his mouth. Before he could stop himself, he said, "Stop being so dramatic, Olive. I'm not dead. So shut up and leave my room."
("You know what, O'Connor," Victor had said the morning before he was killed by the hollow. "You're a good man. The only problem with you is your stupid mouth. You're lucky that I know just how damaged you are. But one day, that mouth of yours is going to cost you everything. And don't punch me when I say 'I told you so'.")
Olive stared at him with wide eyes, looking like he'd just slapped her on the face. He might as well, seeing just how ruthlessly he waved aside her as if she wasn't important to him. Choking back on her tears, the girl went running out of his room, sobbing all the way to where he heard Emma was worriedly asking her what happened. As he stared ahead blankly to where Olive just went, he knew that he had done it. He had pushed her too far and there was no way she was going to forgive him – ever. He could still hear her telling Emma everything, sobbing uncontrollably through her words, and with every teary breath she took, he felt his own heart broke.
(You're right, Victor. You're absolutely right.)
He heard Miss Peregine's heavy sigh from his left, and he realised that he nearly forgot she was there. Lifting herself off his bed, she then made his way toward his door. But before she left, she turned around one last time and said, "I am so disappointed in you, Enoch. I really am."
She closed the door behind him as she left, and Enoch felt like screaming. He wanted to scream his throat sore, until he ripped his cords and lost his voice. But instead, he just kept quiet, wishing that he'd died for the second time because really, he was sure that this time, no one would care.
("Demon child, that's what you are, boy! No one will ever love you because you are cursed. Something this evil deserves nothing, especially not love. You are nothing.")
In his mind, Enoch was already dead.
When Abe left the loop, Enoch always knew that it was the beginning of their end. Or at least, the beginning of his end. He never liked the bloke because he was worried that someday, the stupid Yank would leave Emma behind, and no doubt it would destory her. He felt like killing the boy when he saw how broken Emma was, feeling the brotherly protectiveness toward the boy. If it wasn't for Emma's own interference, he would have done it, probably would ask Victor to join him. As if it wasn't enough, not long after Abe's departure, another tragedy came. He and Victor had ventured a little too far from the safety of the mansion's walls when a hollow appeared out of nowhere and killed his friend. He wanted to reanimate Victor because he couldn't stand Bronwyn crying and begging on his feet, asking him to bring back her brother. He would have done it, if it wasn't for Miss Peregrine insistence that if he did it, not only it was dangerous for Enoch's own life to do so, Victor wouldn't be fully alive. He argued the woman about it, something that he had never done in all the years he spent living under her care. But, in the back of his mind, he knew that she was right. Not only it would kill him, there was no guarantee that Victor would be the same. So, when Bronwyn came to him one more time, he told her that he couldn't do it. He almost didn't realise the lone tear that escaped him when he watched Bronwyn ran to her room, which led to her refusing to talk to him for the next two years.
It was during that period of time his weird relationship with Olive began. He was working tirelessly on a group of clay soldiers he envisioned would be some guard of sorts that would alert them of upcoming danger, when he heard a knock on the door. Grunting out a respond, he was a little surprised when Olive's head of red hair peeked over his door, looking nervously at him. He asked her what she wanted from him, and as she shyly stepped into his room, he noticed that she was holding a plate of cake with the number forty-five on it. It took him awhile to realise that the cake was meant for him because it was his birthday. Not only it was nearly impossible to know the dates when you lived in the loop, there was also the fact that so much had happened in the past eleven months since Abe left them, that he ended up forgetting his own birthday. He was still staring at the cake when he realised Olive had taken a few steps forward that she was finally standing right in front of him. The girl was standing so close to him, he could see the brown flecks in her green eyes. In all the five years he knew her, Enoch had never realised just how small she actually was. Even if she was to wear Emma's shoes, he would still tower over her. She was saying something, but for the life of him, he had no idea what she was saying. It took a couple tries until he finally caught on what she said.
"…told V-Victor how much you used to like chocolate cake," the girl said, her small voice was nearly inaudible to his ears. "So, I uh...I got the ingredients needed during the Raid, and tried to make you something edible. I- I hope you like it, Enoch."
He blinked once before nodding his head stiffly. "Um, okay. Just leave it over- No! Don't put it there with the hearts! You'll get the cake all dirty. Go put it there, on the shelf with my books."
Olive nodded and obediently did as she was told. After she was done, she looked at him as if she wanted to say something. In return, Enoch cocked an eye brow, daring her to say whatever she had in her mind. He thought she was going to falter, like she always did when she was with him. Imagine his surprise when she took a deep breath, stilling herself to talk him. With a new air of confidence, she said, "If you want to, I can always help you with your projects. My chores start at ten-thirty, and I'll be done at exactly eleven o'clock. Come and get me whenever you need my help."
Before Enoch could say anything about it, she had left. For the whole day, the necromancer couldn't help but to think about her words. He wanted to say no to her offer, just to show that he did not need any help at all. But when the next day came and his watch told him that it was already eleven, he found himself making his way to Olive's room. He knocked on her door once, to which she answered in a snap. The smile on her face was blinding that Enoch nearly smiled as well. He knew he should have said something, but whatever words he had lost him. Therefore, he was so grateful when Olive merely nodded at him and waltzed out of her room, wordlessly motioning him to lead the way to his room. That was how his days went for the next seventy-three years until Jacob came. No one ever commented about it, even though he knew that Millard and Hugh, the two troublemakers, were probably dying to tease him about it. He suspected that it was Miss Peregrine's work, but honestly, he didn't really care.
"Don't get burnt, Enoch!" Bronwyn had said to him, her first words in two years since her brother's death. At that time, Enoch had no idea what she meant.
(Truth to be told, he still had none.)
"You shouldn't be up and around so soon, you know," Emma said when she found him hidding in what used to be the cooler room for the meat. He had been trying to reanimate the skeletons for hours, but apparently he was still too weak. When Emma entered the room, he quickly hid his handkerchief in his pocket, praying that she didn't see the blood that had tainted the white fabric.
"I'm bored," he said, discreetly moving to lean on the metal wall of the ship because he barely had any energy left to prop himself up. "And I know everyone's mad at me right now, so this is my only entertainment."
"You're lucky it's me and not the Bird who found you here," Emma said, kicking the bones around so she could take a seat in front of him. "She would probably smack you if she saw you. I mean, you just died about sixteen hours ago. If you try to do your magic again, you'd be dead before Miss P could kill you herself."
Enoch took a little too long to give a respond, and that led to Emma having the worst conclusion she could come up with. Gasping lightly, she said, "That is what you're doing, right? You wanted to die."
"What are you doing here, Em?" the necromancer asked, hoping to distract her. "Shouldn't you be romancing with your darling Jacob? Don't let him found you here with me or else he'll think you're cheating on him."
But Emma was dubbed the most stubborn one in their little family for nothing. Scooting forward, she grabbed his face with her hands despite her knowing how he hated it when people touched him. He would have pushed her away if he wasn't so weak. He didn't even have the strength to flinch when the blonde accidentally pushed his head against the wall in surprise, which caused a dull thud to echo in the room. Obviously, she felt how cold skin was, and probably saw the trail of dry blood under his nose.
"What is wrong with you, my friend?" she whispered, and he saw how she was trying hard not to cry. "Tell me what's wrong, Enoch."
"Emma – "
"No," the girl cut him off firmly. "When Abe left, you were there for me. You listened to me crying my guts out about how he broke my heart. You forced me to move on with my life, and even threatened to send me flying until I reached the clouds if I didn't eat. For years, you have been the rock that kept me, and everyone else, going."
"You're the sister I never had," Enoch said. "You all are the sisters, and brothers, that I always wanted my whole life. I couldn't possibly let you all alone when that git left you. You needed help."
"You need help now. I can see you're hurting, Enoch. So, please, let me help you. Tell me what is wrong, and I promise, I'll help you the best I can."
"No. I don't think – "
"Brother, please."
Those two words shocked Enoch to the core. In all his long life, he never thought he would ever be someone other than the kid who could give life with his hands. It was probably what broke his resolve. Looking into Emma's hazel eyes, he realised that she was right. He sighed, feeling his one hundred and seventeen years of life finally catching up to him. He felt so, so tired, and he wished everything would just…stop.
"Enoch?" Emma said, tilting her head to the side.
(Do it. Do it before it's too late, you idiot.)
"I'm scared, you know," Enoch began, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Scared of what?"
"Of her leaving."
"Her as in…Olive?"
"Yeah. Because, in the end, everyone I love, always ends up leaving me."
Even through the glove, Enoch could feel just how warm Olive's hand was. He had a feeling that it was because her power, but something in him was convinced that it got more to do with the fact that she was the only person in the whole universe who warmed his heart. As the both of them got on the ship, he caught the forlorn look on Emma's face, and it caused his grip to tighten around Olive's hand. She returned the gesture, as if she knew what was on his mind. They walked in silence as they headed to the control room, and he was grateful that all the children wisely kept their mouth shut when they saw them together. Enoch felt a little giddy at the thought that for the first time in a century, he finally had someone that he could call his. Once inside the control room, he made sure that all doors were locked before he turned to face Olive. His Olive, his fiery little fire that took his breath a way. He took small steps toward the girl, stalking her until he cornered her against the wheel, keeping his eyes on her. Olive, for her part, merely smiled that angelic smile of hers as she bravely met his stare.
"Don't you think I should go and check the engines?" she asked, her breath hitched a little when she probably realised how close they were.
"You should," Enoch said, nodding his head slightly as he leaned closer until his lips were less than an inch from her ear. "But I want you here – with me."
"Okay," Olive breathed. She blinked nervously at him when he pulled his head back a little before leaning forward again, this time aiming for her lips.
"Okay?" the necromancer whispered the request for permission, feeling her breath in his mouth.
"Okay."
He closed what little gap they had between them, kissing her lightly as not to scare her. For a split second, his mind flew back to the cold feeling of her lips against his when she was frozen, and he hastily chased the thought away. He was about to deepen the kiss when Olive pushed him gently. Holding back his protest, he couldn't help the growl that escaped him. But if Olive wanted to stop, he would do it for her.
"What is it?" he asked, feeling a little breathless. He was sure the sight of her just equally as breathless as he was should be illegal because it got him thinking of less than gentlemanly thoughts.
"I…I don't know why but I think you should know that…that you are the first and only boy – man, I've ever kissed in my entire life," she said shyly as her cheeks flushed red.
He vaguely noticed that she was still talking, but even though he'd long thought that his whole world revolved around her, he could care less what she was saying. All he could think of was that he was the first and only one that she ever kissed, and it did wonders to his low self-esteem. Suddenly, he found it annoying that she was still talking instead of kissing him. He had to do something about that – and that was what he did. He kissed her again, this time more passionately than the previous one. He wrapped his arms around her delicate waist so he could pull her closer, needing to feel her as close as possible to him. It seemed that the girl was thinking about the same thing because at the same time, she buried her fingers in his mass of thick curls, pulling his head closer toward her. Enoch realised that he was probably around the same age as the oldest people in the world who lived in Jacob's era. But in the end, he was only seventeen after all. As much as he hated to admit it, he did have the urges of a seventeen year old, no matter how long he'd been seventeen. The necromancer lost track of time about how long he'd been kissing Olive, when he felt her gloved fingers went under his collar and stroked a thick welt on his shoulder blade. Instantly, memories of his life prior to his living with Miss Peregrine flashed back in his mind like a movie.
He was only ten and he had a crush on a girl. She was a pretty little thing, with golden-blonde hair flowing down her back and blue eyes that captured his heart. Her name was Sarah. She was the daughter of a rich banker. The girl had everyone around her finger, himself included. But with a pang in his heart, Enoch realised that she wouldn't look at him twice, the son of an undertaker. So, when he found out that he could give life with only the touch of his hand, he was excited. Enoch was sure that now he had the chance to woo the girl because he was special. How wrong he was. Instead of finding his gift amazing when he brought back a corpse to life, she ran out of his house crying and telling her parents that he was scaring her with his evil magic. Obviously, her father went to see Enoch's parents, and he called them many bad names, practitioner of dark magic being one of them. Rumours traveled fast and soon, no one wanted Enoch's parents to care for their dead anymore. Of course, Enoch was to be blamed. His father locked the boy in the basement and beat him senseless. He was deaf to the boy's cries, going utterly mad with rage that the boy had completely ruined his business. His wife, Enoch's mother, could not stand the sight of her husband beating down their son. But Enoch knew, from the way she merely left the first aid kit for the boy to use on his own, instead of tending to his wounds herself, the woman blamed him as well.
Seven years he endured the abuse from his father, but it took him only a day to realise that in the end, everyone he cared, everyone he loved, would leave him alone.
And so would his Olive.
Pushing the girl abruptly, he tried to look as unfeeling as possible when she fell down on the hard wooden floor. Olive looked up at him, her eyes wide in shock at the sudden change in him. It felt like a knife was stabbed in his heart when he sneered at her, but Enoch had decades of practise in hiding his true feelings. Before Olive could say anything, he quickly said, "You don't really think I actually feel anything for you, right?"
"What?" the pyromancer whispered. It took great effort for him to shut down his feelings when he saw tears started to brim in her eyes.
"Don't be stupid, Olive. It's the first time in a hundred years for me to finally live outside of the loop. You really think that it's you?"
"I…I don't understand. I thought…"
"You thought what? You thought that I would really love you? Olive, you're not that special, so don't get your hopes too high. Now that we're all finally free from the prison Miss P created, I can get anyone."
Olive's eyes were always so expressive that if one were to know her true feelings, they only needed to look into her eyes and they could get all the answers. In all his seventy-seven years since he met her, those eyes were always alive with the fire of her happiness. But the more he talked, the more he broke her confidence with his cruel words, he saw how the fire died slowly. He wanted to take it back because the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. Enoch wanted to tell her that no, she was the most exquisite thing in his eyes, and that she meant the world to him. He was a coward, though. He was too scared that Olive would hurt him the way Sarah, his parents, and everyone else did. However, he was caught off guard when Olive pulled herself to stand and defiantly looked into his eyes.
"You're lying," she said. "I know how good a liar you are, Enoch, but not even you could fake that genuine worry you showed back in the theatre when you thought I had died."
"Then you don't know me at all," Enoch said with his taunting smile that he usually reserved only for the boys. "I have lived my whole life in lies, Olive dear. What makes you so sure that I am not good enough to act like a bad person?"
"Because you are not, Enoch. You are a good person."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're being delusional. Please, get your head out of whatever stupid dream you have, Olive. It's very unattractive. I mean, the way you tail after me like a lost puppy, willing to take everything I dish out at you is pathetic. You disgust me, Olive."
For good measure, Enoch made sure that he had a contempt look on his face to show how pleased he was for saying all those things to her. He cocked an eye brown when she merely stared him with tears running down profusely from her eyes, challenging her to say anything. If he were to do this to Emma, or Fiona, or even Claire, there was no doubt that those girls would probably kill him painfully slow before throwing his body into the ocean. But his (no longer yours, Enoch) Olive wasn't like that because she had a gentle heart and all around the kindest person he had ever known.
"Why are you always so mean to me, Enoch? What did I do wrong?" she whispered. "It never mattered to me that you took everything for granted, that you always treated me poorly. It didn't matter that you never cared about me because I care about you so much that I hope it's enough for the both of us. I have only shown you kindness, and I have never, never expected you to return anything. So why do you treat me like this?"
("Daddy! I saw Enoch did horrible things to the corpses. I am scared, Daddy.")
("Devil little spawn! I hope you burn in God's fiery depths of hell, boy.")
("Get away from the demon, everyone! Get away before he curses you!")
("An absolute abomination! Why don't you just die, boy?")
("Father, please! It hurts! Father, I promise I won't do it again. Promise!")
"Because, my darling Olive," he said, putting on the most convincing evil grin he could manage. "I am the devil's little demon."
He clenched his jaw to stop himself from calling out her name when Olive turned around and headed to the door. He kept his eyes on the spot where she was just moments ago, even as he listened her unlocking the door. But when she said his name, he relented just a bit, looking at her from the corner of his eye as he turned his head a millimeter.
"What?" he spat, willing her to just leave before he changed his mind and begged on her feet for her to forgive him.
"One day, you will be so sorry, Enoch O'Connor," she said coolly before stepping out of the room.
Suddenly, his knees felt like buckling, and it was only luck that he was quick enough to hold on the steering wheel before he fell. Letting out a mirthless chuckle, he muttered, "I already am, my dear. I already am."
"Eat it," Millard said as a flying spoon was shoved right in front of Enoch's mouth.
Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he replied, "I am not five anymore, Millard. I can very well eat my dinner all on my own."
"I know that," the invisible boy said in a cheeky tone. "But when Emma told me that I got the chance to treat you like a spoiled toddler - which you are for most of the time, by the way, if you aren't being a grumpy teenager - I just couldn't pass on the chance. So, eat up, you big baby."
"Fine," Enoch grumbled, opening his mouth so Millard could feed him the porridge the boy had stolen from a shop before the ship sailed.
"Good boy," Millard said. When he felt a hand ruffling his hair, Enoch had to fight the urge not to throttle he little brat.
After his heartfelt session with Emma down the cooler room, with tears running down her face, she called out for her boyfriend, who was actually standing outside the whole time they were talking. If he could, Enoch would have glared at the girl for hiding the fact that Jacob was around when he was spilling his darkest secret. But he was too weak, so he kept his mouth shut as he let the two love birds helped him to get back to his room. Emma told Jacob to watch over him as she went to fix him his lunch, to which Jacob obediently obeyed. It was about half an hour later that a floating bowl of porridge and a hat came into the room, and Millard's voice was heard saying that he was sent by Emma to personally hand-feed Enoch, as well as to tell Jacob that Emma and Miss P needed to see him. That was how he ended up stuck with the brat, who seemed to be having too much fun at the moment. Enoch was sure that he wasn't goin to let him forget about it for as long as he lived, and the thought made his sour mood gone worse.
"Stop pouting, handsome," Millard said as he fed him the last of the porridge. "Look, you've eaten all! Now, drink this milk, and then the water. I read in a book once that milk and fresh water is the medicine to everything."
"You know," Enoch said, drinking all the milk in one go before taking the glass of fresh water. "You are very smart if you're not so annoying, kid."
"Thank you very much, Enoch. And you are very smart as well if you aren't such a huge pain in everyone's neck." When Enoch glared at him, the boy let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, don't be so serious! Remember, we are getting old from now on. You might want to take it easy on the pouting, lest you age prematurely."
"Why are you still here?" the necromancer said as a retort. "I thought your job was to make sure I ate my dinner. I'm done with it."
"Well, I have a present for you," Millard replied. "It's from all of us, Miss P included, for all your hardwork that nearly cost you your life. Well, it did cost you your life in the end. You died, right?"
Realising that Millard wouldn't leave until he gave him the so-called present, Enoch sighed. "Millard, I am so tired right now. So, if you have something to give me, do it now before I pass out."
"Right," Millard said. The hat on his head turned toward the door. "Come in, present!"
Enoch was halfway from jumping on the boy, thinking that it was one of his games, when the door was suddenly opened, and Olive stepped into the room. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the redhead standing by his door. If he ever called her unattractive before, he surely changed his mind now. He had never seen something as captivating as his little fire, and from the way his heart ached, he honestly had no idea why in the world he thought he could live without her by his side. He vaguely heard Millard said something about him having to leave before his technically under-aged eyes saw something that would traumatise him forever. Enoch didn't care though. He nearly didn't realise when the boy had exited his room. The only thing he could comprehend was Olive had taken the spot where Millard occupied just moments ago, giving him that trademark shy smile that was so her. He was sure hours had passed with him merely staring at Olive while she nervously played with her fingers, avoiding to look at him in the eye. When he finally regained his ability to talk, it was like a dam just broke.
"I lied," he began, his voice sounded a little shaky. "Everything I said back in the control room was a lie. You were right. I did care about you, Olive. And I am so, so sorry for everything I'd done. You are the most important person in this whole universe for me. Even before I lost Victor, you already mattered so much to me. I am an idiot, and I don't deserve you. I know that after all those mean things I said to you, there's no way you're ever going to forgive me – and that's okay. I understand if you hate me, and if you don't want to even be friends with me any longer. It's okay, I get it. I was horrible to you. I just…I just want you to know that you are important to me and – "
And she kissed him.
After all he'd done to her, she would still kiss him.
The kiss was short and if he were to be honest, it ended much to soon for his liking. But she had a big smile on her face so he dared not to complain. "You hurt me, Enoch. And it's not okay. You have to know that. But, I don't hate you, and I forgive you."
Her words shocked him more than the kiss did. Looking into her green eyes, he whispered, "Why?"
"Because," she said, taking his right hand toward her lips so she could kiss it. "I love you, Enoch O'Connor. I love you so very much that hating you is simply not an option."
A smile began to grew on his face, and as seconds passed, he felt it grew bigger. Soon, he was chuckling softly as he pulled Olive closer until she was practically on his lap. Cupping her face in his hand, he said, "Say it. Say it again, please."
"I love you, Enoch," Olive said, letting out a faint giggle when Enoch leaned to kiss her.
"Again. Say it again, Olive."
"I love you, Enoch. I have loved you from the moment Miss Peregrine brought me and Emma to the house. I have loved you through everything since the day we first met. I will always love you and I promise, I will never leave you like everyone else did. I love you and I'm not going anywhere."
Enoch felt as if his heart was going to burst in happiness. Giving her another peck on the lips, he finally said the words that he'd always wanted to say but was too much of a coward to say it. But his Olive more than deserved to hear it, so he would be brave for her and say the words that was long-overdue for her to hear.
"I love you too, Olive Elephanta. I know that you are much too good for me, so I promise that I will make sure to cherish and worship you with all the love my little black heart can muster because you deserve it. I will dedicate my whole life to show you just how much I love you, my dear," Enoch said. He leaned one more time toward her because he could not bare one more second passed without kissing her. Thus, he was a little disappointed, and worried, when Olive jumped off his lap and went toward the door.
"Olive?" he said, tilting his head to the side. When he saw Olive locked the door, he couldn't help but to laugh heartily,
With a sneaky grin on her face, his fiery little fire said, "We can't traumatise the children, Enoch."
"Whatever you say, my dear."
"Hey, Olive. What is it like to be kissing a guy who's like, two decades older than you are? Does it feel as disgusting as I think it is? Because, technically, he is old enough to be your fathe – "
A bowl of porridge was thrown across the room, landing precisely on the invisible boy, who would have looked scandalously surprised if he was visible.
"ENOCH!" Olive, Miss Peregrine, and Emma yelled. All three ladies glared the culprit who just threw the bowl of porridge. The boy – man, in question merely shrugged.
"He knows it's coming," Enoch said.
Beside him, Jacob Portman laughed as he muttered under his breath, "Grandpa would definitely love to hear about this."
NOTES 2: I would like to make it clear with you guys that I don't think Lauren McCrostie, who portrayed Olive, wasn't pretty. I do think she is pretty. However, this story was written in Enoch's pov, and his stupid little mind, he used to think that beautiful was something the way Emma was - because that was how his former sweetheart Sarah sort of looked like.