Drabble A Day Tumblr Challenge
Day 13
Characters: Charles Beckendorf, Silena Beauregard
He sees her talking to her things on a bright June day, and that's the day he realized that he might be in love with her.
She blushes without make-up when he walks in on her yelling at her pillow for not being fluffy enough. She stutters without faking it when he raises a scorched eyebrow at her. She twirls her hair without meaning anything else other than nervousness and embarrassment when he begins to laugh. She smiles at him without seduction in mind when he moves closer. She kisses him without any malicious intent when their lips touch.
He always liked that about her; her courage to say the truth. He likes to think that she feels the same way when he never says anything without it being important. She might not, but he gets that feeling anyway when they hold hands. It's kind of magical.
He walks in on her for a few more times; one memorable one was when she threw her hair brush at the mirror. Her hair was extremely frazzled for once, that day, clothes rumpled and no cosmetics on her face. He liked it better that way, so he didn't mind. He reached out with his hand and hugged her. She had held him tighter than usual, muttering, "Worry, worry, worry," to his chest.
He doesn't remember that her eyes were red. He doesn't remember that his shirt was stained with tears. He doesn't remember she was shaking.
He had long since known how to repress parts of his memories. It was important; it was survival.
The last time she walks in on her talking to one of her possessions, it's to a bracelet. It happened the morning of the mission. She had screamed and cried and he had held her, one last time, kissing her softly on her forehead before heading off to the stables. He had felt guilty for leaving while she was asleep, but he had mounted on to Blackjack anyway.
Later, he remembers everything he's ever denied as truth; his mother kicked him out, his father he only saw once, his mortal brother doesn't know about him, she was not saying "Worry, worry, worry," in a mantra, she was apologizing, she was saying sorry, she knew what was coming, and—
He breathes, just one more time, just enough to think, to remember, one second before he pushes and just one second before he's gone—
The bracelet had a scythe charm hanging off the edge, sparkling with just enough innocence for it to be called deceit.
denial
n.
a process by which painful truths are not admitted into an individual's consciousness