Note: This chapter is rated Mature/Explicit.
James watched numbly as she walked away from him, and he heard the front door open and close. He peeked through the window and saw her get into a taxi that drove away into the night.
"Fuck," he whispered, rubbing the heels of his palms into his burning eyes. "FUCK!"
He kicked at the bedframe, ignoring the spike of pain in his toes as his tears overflowed and dampened his cheeks. He sank down onto the edge of the bed and sobbed into his hands.
All he'd wanted was to give Rose a nice birthday without dragging her into his foul mood. He'd wanted so badly to be happy and excited and celebratory with her, and he'd hoped if he ignored his dark mood, it would go away and leave Rose unspoiled.
Look how brilliantly that worked.
James's heart ached with loneliness and guilt, and he wanted so badly to call Rose and beg her to come home. But she was so angry with him and he'd hurt her so badly without even realizing it. He'd tried to spare her his own grief and anger, but he'd instead made it all worse.
Rose deserved so much better than him.
He grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys, and stalked out of the flat, unable to be around all of the mementos of his life with Rose, which only served as a reminder to him that he'd destroyed the best thing in his life.
He pulled up to his dad's flat forty-five minutes later, barely remembering making the drive, and knocked on the door.
"James, mate, what are you doing here?" Robert asked. He then noticed how red James's eyes were. "James, what happened? Are you all right? Is Rose all right?"
"I fucked up," he whispered. "I fucked up so badly."
"Come in," Robert urged, stepping back to let James in.
As soon as he closed the door behind his son, Robert wrapped James in a hug. James stood still for just a moment before fiercely returning the embrace.
"Shh, breathe, mate," Robert whispered when he felt how much James was shaking. "Easy does it. Let me make us a cuppa tea, eh?"
James snorted mirthlessly. "Tea's not gonna cut it. Haven't got anything stronger, have you?"
Robert pursed his lips, and said, "Sorry, I don't keep alcohol in the house anymore. Tea is gonna have to cut it. Come on."
Robert sat a box of biscuits onto the table for James as he fixed up their tea. When they were both cradling a steaming mug in their hands, Robert asked, "Want to tell me what happened?"
"It's Rose's birthday," James said, rubbing his thumb across the lip of his mug. "I just wanted her to have a nice, happy day. But it's so hard. Because Mum…"
James choked off and lifted his cup to his mouth. He gulped down a large sip, burning his tongue as he tried to compose himself. He set his cup on the table and whispered, "I miss Mum so much."
He dug his fingers impatiently into his eyes. He was so tired of crying over this. It had been a year, for God's sake. He should have himself under better control. He should be handling this so much better. No wonder Rose was bloody sick of him. He was sick of himself, too.
"I know, mate," Robert said gently. "I do, too. But what's this got to do with Rose?"
"I didn't want to tell Rose how poorly I was feeling," James mumbled, blowing on his tea this time before taking a sip. "Because it's her birthday and she deserves the best day after last year's disaster of a birthday, so I tried to be normal for her. But of course she knew I wasn't in the mood, so she asked for a quiet day in together. But how pathetic is that? It's her birthday, and she was still trying to take care of me!"
"That's what love is, mate," Robert said. "Besides, you've been working yourself to death in your lab. Rose has hardly had any quality time with you since the school year started, no wonder that's what she wanted for her birthday."
"We spend our weekends together!" James protested.
Robert raised an eyebrow. "And how many weekends have you had where neither of you had to work on homework or write papers or anything? When was the last time you had a proper date night with Rose?"
James's stomach sank as he tried to remember the last time he spent an uninterrupted day with Rose, and guilt crept up on him when he couldn't think of anything since spring break, when he'd taken a three-day weekend to spend time with her.
"So, you and Rose had a relaxing day in?" Robert prompted, trying to get the full story from his son.
"Yeah," James sighed. "Well, sort of. I, ehm, well… I sort of kept pushing for us to do something together, like go out and explore the city, or go out to dinner together, but I may have managed to imply that us having a quiet day in together was… boring."
Frustration swelled up in James as he thought back to how completely and utterly he managed to ruin Rose's birthday, and he would give anything to rewind the last twelve hours and go back to sitting with Rose on their couch, in their home, watching Netflix together.
"I'm such an idiot," James moaned, scrubbing his hands across his face. "I should've been happy to stay home with her. Because even though I offered, I didn't feel like doing anything! How rubbish is that of me? What if she'd taken me up on my offer? And all I did was complain while we were out? Jesus, Rose couldn't've won today! I should've just fucking told her I wasn't in the mood to do anything instead of pretending like I was. But I didn't! I lied to her, even after we've promised never to do that! And she hates me and left me and is staying with her mum and I just want her back!"
James's face crumpled as he remembered how hurt Rose had looked when he'd tried convincing her he was okay. She'd looked so betrayed and, as she had said, so bloody tired.
James rubbed his hands wearily over his face and saw fresh ink on his wrist.
I made it safely to my mum's.
James rubbed his thumb reverently over the words. He desperately wanted to write her back, and tell her he was so sorry for being such a twat, but he couldn't bring himself to write anything. He didn't deserve her; the universe must have gotten it wrong and given her the wrong soulmate. She was destined for so much better than him.
"I don't know what to do to fix this, Dad," James whispered. "I hurt her so badly. And I'm still such a fucking mess, even after a year! I should be better now!"
"Time doesn't erase all grief, James," Robert said. "Just because you think you should be over something doesn't mean you are. I'm certainly not over it. I don't think I ever will be. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss your mother. But, I also recognized that I'm still struggling with it. So I've been going to therapy for it."
"You have?" James asked, wondering how he didn't know this.
Robert nodded. "For almost eight months now. To help give me better coping mechanisms than eating and drinking my days away. Teaching has certainly helped give me a distraction. But I'm still far from all right."
"Rose suggested I see a counselor," James murmured. "But I got angry with her for suggesting I needed help. God, I'm such a twat!"
"I think you should talk to someone," Robert agreed. "It doesn't make everything miraculously better. But it helps."
"I feel like it's an insult to Rose," James mumbled. "She's been so brilliant, and I appreciate everything she's done for me. But how do I tell her it's not enough. That I still feel so empty inside?"
"It's more of an insult that you're not speaking to someone," Robert said, reaching over to grab James's hand. "Rose knows how much you're suffering. Even I can see it. And it can't be easy for her to watch, especially when you're adamantly denying that you're not okay. And to be brutally honest James, it's not her responsibility to be your counsellor. She isn't trained for it, and asking that of her isn't fair. That's putting so much added stress on her."
James's eyes burned when he realized his dad was right. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
"What if she doesn't want to come home?" James whispered, feeling his heart pounding throughout his entire body at the possibility.
"She will," he assured gently. "She just needed a break. Not from you, but from the situation."
"I should go home," James said suddenly. "In case she comes back. I need to be there to apologize."
"No, mate, you're not driving anywhere like this," Robert said firmly, reaching behind him and snagging James's car keys off the kitchen island. "Driving while this emotionally distraught is like driving drunk. I will not let you drive like this. You can spend the night here."
James sank back into his seat, knowing his dad was right. He rooted around in his pockets, but didn't find a pen. He rarely kept one on him anymore, and he wondered why he and Rose had fallen out of the habit of writing to each other regularly.
Thankfully, his dad slid a pen to him across the table before he stood up and gathered their dirty dishes and the untouched box of biscuits.
James uncapped the pen, pushed his sleeve up, and wrote, "I'm glad you made it to Jackie's. I'm staying with my dad tonight."
Rose didn't reply, but before James could work himself into a panic, he glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly midnight. At this time last year, Rose was playing kid games with him to distract him from the worst day of his life. His dad's, too, and James was suddenly overcome with another swell of grief for his dad. It had been a year since he'd lost his soulmate, and James had been too busy ignoring his own feelings to stop and look at how his dad was coping.
He sighed at himself as he tentatively asked, "So how have you been?"
Robert glanced at James over his shoulders as he filled the sink with hot, soapy water.
"I'm all right," he said with a shrug. "It's all meetings and frustrating students and end-of-the-semester panic. The usual."
"I meant with… y'know…" James gestured vaguely around the flat.
Robert turned back around and shut off the water before he said, "It's getting better, now that I'm closer to you and Rose, and that I'm back to teaching. But it's still…"
James nodded and ducked his head down to stare at the grains in the wood of the table as he murmured, "What's it like—?"
"What's what like?" Robert prompted when James lapsed into silence.
"Never mind," James mumbled. "Wasn't thinking. S'not appropriate."
"You know you can always ask me anything," Robert reminded. "No matter how awkward or uncomfortable you think it is. No matter if it's a hard or hurtful question."
James inhaled deeply and said in a rush, "What's it like, losing a soulmate?"
Robert sucked in a sharp breath, and James winced. He shouldn't've bloody asked.
"It's agony," Robert said simply, staring at the mug he was washing thoroughly. And without turning around, he murmured, "It's… It's like the world has suddenly lost its color, even though I know nothing has changed. Everything is dull. Like watching a film in black and white. You know that the colors must be there, but there's no way to tell if the character's clothes are red or blue or green or other. The film is still entertaining, but will always be unsatisfying, because such a huge sensory detail is missing."
"I'm sorry," James whispered.
"Yeah," Robert said quietly. "Me too." He scrubbed his hands over his face and said, "The guest suite is all ready for you."
James nodded and stood, mumbling a goodnight to his dad. He walked down the hall to the guest bedroom, where he stripped down to his pants and crawled into bed.
It felt weird to be sleeping without Rose. The room was too quiet without her soft breathing, and the bed felt too cold without her warm body next to him. He moved restlessly as he slipped in and out of a shallow sleep, always expecting his foot to touch Rose as he stretched it out towards her half of the bed, but each time it bet with cool sheets, he woke up again.
His eyes burned with exhaustion and frustration. He just wanted to sleep, but apparently he couldn't even do that without Rose's help. God, he wished she were here, as selfish as that was. He groaned and rolled over to spoon the pillow that was on Rose's half of the bed. It was a poor substitute for Rose, and it offered him little comfort, and he hoped to God that sleeping alone wouldn't become a normal thing, that Rose would somehow find it in herself to forgive him.
He clenched his jaw and buried his face into the fabric of the pillow as tears once more prickled his eyes, making them burn hotter until he was crying silently into the pillow.
James awoke the next morning feeling almost as tired as he had when he went to bed. He contemplated staying in bed for a few more hours to try and get more rest, but decided against it, in favor of heading home as soon as he could to work on making up with Rose.
He dressed quickly and met his dad in the kitchen, where a plate of pancakes and a mug of tea were waiting. James was about to deny the food and just drive home now, but Rose's voice stopped him when he remembered all of the times she reminded—begged—him to eat.
He sighed and plopped heavily into the chair, saying, "Thanks for breakfast, Dad."
"Of course. You need to eat, James, you're getting skinnier every time I look at you."
James stabbed a forkful of pancake and shoved it indelicately into his mouth. He should've known he couldn't hide his worsening frame of mind from the two people that knew him best, and he'd been stupid to try.
When he returned to his flat later that morning, James did so with a sense of determination. He had completely ruined Rose's birthday, despite trying to make it the best day for her, and he set about to fix it as soon as he could.
He wasn't sure when Rose would be coming home, but she still had classes tomorrow, so she had to be home soon. Right? He ignored the thread of hurt at the possibility that she might stay away for another night in favor of preparing a redux of her birthday dinner. Within ninety minutes, he had a dish of lasagna and bread dough ready to go in the fridge, and a chocolate cake was baking in the oven.
With the food more or less prepare, James grabbed his phone to make a couple necessary and long-overdue phone calls. The first was to Oxford's counselling center, where he made himself a preliminary appointment for that week. The second was to his research advisor.
"James? It's Sunday morning. Bloody hell, don't tell me you're in the lab again."
James snorted and said, "No, no. I'm not. And that's why I'm calling, actually."
"Is everything all right?"
James sighed and rubbed his finger into his eye.
"I need to take a bit of time off," he admitted. "Sort out some things. Get some priorities back in order."
His advisor exhaled and said, "Good on you. We've been worried about you, James."
James cringed. Had he really been that obvious that he wasn't doing well?
"Yeah, I've been told," he said dryly. "So, can I have some time off?"
"James," his advisor said seriously, "you've pulled almost double the hours of any first-year graduate student. Hell, you could take off the whole summer and still be ahead of others in your year."
James exhaled in relief. He knew he needed to sort himself out emotionally, but he also knew that if his research fell behind, that would only be another stressor in his life.
"Well, I'm not sure about all summer," he said. "Perhaps let's start with until the end of the academic term? That's two weeks from now. And then I'll see how things are going."
"Sounds good," his advisor said. "And seriously, if you need to take more time, take it. It's no trouble at all to file for an extended leave, James."
"Thanks," James said earnestly, hoping his advisor knew how grateful James was for his laid-back work ethic. "So for now, don't expect to see me until the middle of May?"
"Sounds good. Keep me up to date with how you're doing, James. I wasn't kidding when I told you I didn't want to see you burn out."
James nodded quietly, even though his advisor couldn't see him, and murmured, "Yeah. Thanks."
With the end of that phone call, James felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders, knowing he wouldn't have to touch his research project again until he felt truly excited about it once more.
With an energy he hadn't felt in months, James set about cleaning the flat. He threw away the leftover pizza they'd ordered last night but had let sit on the coffee table; he washed the dishes in the sink; he opened the curtains to get a bit of natural light into the flat, and even cracked open a window to get a bit of fresh air. He vacuumed the floors, finished folding the laundry from last night, and cleaned both the upstairs and downstairs loos, and by the time he was done, he was exhausted but he felt good about being so productive.
Now, if only he could clean up the mess he'd made of his relationship with Rose as thoroughly as he'd cleaned the flat.
He settled on the couch and turned on a random movie to distract himself from the ticking clock and wondering when Rose might come home.
Turns out, he didn't have to wait long. The film had barely started when he heard a key in the lock.
He jumped up from the sofa and raced to the front door as it swung open.
"Rose," he whispered.
She smiled sadly at him, walked into the flat, dropped her bag, and stepped up to wrap her arms around his neck.
He held her close, whispering frantic apologies into her ear.
"I'm sorry, too," she whispered.
"You have nothing to apologize for," he assured.
"Sure I do," she said. "You were so upset and I just left you here alone. I almost turned around and came right back when I realized what I'd done."
"It's okay," he said. "I understand. You needed a break too. You've been so wonderful to me, Rose. You've been so strong and loving and I can't imagine how hard this has all been on you."
Tears glittered in her eyes and she buried her face in his neck.
"I've been so worried about you!" she sobbed, clinging to his jumper. He hugged her closer and squeezed his eyes against his own tears.
"I know. I'm sorry." He pressed his lips to her temple, now, more than ever, determined to get himself into a better mental and emotional state not just for himself, but for her. "I'm so sorry, love."
He held her and swayed them from side to side until her sniffles quieted. He pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead as he cupped her cheeks and swiped away her tears with his thumbs.
She covered his hands with hers and drew in a shuddering breath before she asked, "How are you today, James?"
"Not good," he admitted, stroking the apples of her cheeks mindlessly. "But much better than last night. You were right; you've always been right, I'm not okay at all, and it was insulting of me to insinuate that I was. I'm so sorry."
"All I wanted to do was help. It was killing me to see you hurting so much, and I didn't know how to help you. And you wouldn't let me help."
"I know," he murmured, pecking a quick kiss to her forehead. He inhaled deeply and removed his hands from her cheeks to shove them deep in his pockets. "But I want to be better. For you. And for me. I had a really long chat with my dad last night. I've made an appointment with the school's counselor for Wednesday. And I'm taking a bit of time off from the lab. I was getting to the point where I hated going into work. And I don't want to feel like that anymore. I want to love what I do again. And most of all, I want to focus on you and on us. I want to be the man you deserve, Rose."
Rose smiled softly up at him as she reached up to cradle his cheeks and whispered, "You are that man, James. I love you with all that I am."
He smiled back at her and ducked down in an invitation for a kiss.
Their lips met chastely, a quick press that offered unspoken comfort and reassurances, and it was over far too quickly, in James's opinion.
"Do I smell chocolate?" Rose asked as she pulled away, looking towards the kitchen.
"Yep! I made you a cake!" James said with a grin as he tugged her towards the kitchen, where her birthday cake stood proudly in its pan on the kitchen bar. "And I've got dinner in the fridge. Sort of a do-over for yesterday, if that's all right? One of these days I'll get your birthday to be just perfect."
"It's always perfect if I can spend it with you," Rose promised. "Just because we got into a fight doesn't make my time with you any less special."
James grinned and couldn't resist planting another kiss to her lips.
oOoOo
Rose jiggled her knee as she disinterestedly sipped at her mug of tea. James was in his first counseling session, and she was nervous for him. She hoped he would take it seriously, and actually try to talk to the counsellor about how he was feeling. And she hoped he would finally get the help he'd needed for a year, and would be able to start putting himself together again.
She pulled her phone out to play a game while she waited for him to come home, but a flash of ink caught her eye.
You know, it's been ages since we've used our soulbond for anything more than a quick "I'll be there soon" or "I'm running late" or "Good luck on your exam". I've missed having my arms all inked up.
Rose sighed. "Pay attention to your therapy session, James."
Right. Sorry. A moment passed, before more ink appeared. Dr. Greggory suggested it. When I told her that we sort of let that part of our relationship wither once we met. She thought it might be a good place for us to start reconnecting. It's silly. I see you every day.
Rose cursed and wrote, "No! It's not silly. Sorry, love, I just thought you might be trying to…"
Rose bit her lip. There was no good way to end that sentence without making him feel poorly about himself and his attention span.
You thought I was trying to ignore the therapy session? It's all right. I was sort of zoning out for a bit. That's when she proposed I write to you.
"I've missed talking to you like this, too," Rose admitted. "It's so personal and intimate, and it's something that belongs just to us."
Yeah. And it's sometimes really hard for me to put into words what I'm thinking. I like this method, and I can try to process my thoughts and emotions before telling you. There's less pressure.
"Has it been difficult for you to talk to me in person?" she asked, feeling slightly ill at the idea. "Be honest, please."
He paused for a few long moments before he said, Sometimes.
She felt as though all of the air had been knocked from her lungs.
"Oh, James, I'm so sorry," she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "I never meant for that! I always want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything."
I know. And most of the time I can. But recently…
Rose sniffled and wiped her eyes and waited patiently for him to continue.
Recently you've seemed so angry and sad. And I knew it was my fault. And I was worried about upsetting you further. And I know I went about it all wrong, trying to ignore my problems, but I was so scared that if I tried to tell you how I really felt, you'd get cross with me or you'd start crying, and I didn't want either of those to happen, so I tried to make you feel better, but it just made me feel worse, so I tried harder to make myself not feel poorly, but nothing I did seemed to work. I got stuck in that cycle and I didn't know how to get out of it, so I ignored it, and I wound up hurting us both, and I'm so sorry, Rose.
Rose was full-on crying at this point as she wondered how on Earth she and James had ever gotten to this point.
She managed to pull herself together by the time James got home. He looked drained, but not defeated or agitated.
"I've got another appointment at the same time next week," he announced, plopping down beside her on the sofa.
Rose opened her arm for him and rested her cheek in his hair as he nuzzled into her neck.
"Doctor Greggory had a suggestion," James said quietly, tracing circles onto her kneecap. "She, ehm, she suggested a conversation between us. About how you've been feeling. If you want?"
"I've been beyond worried, obviously," Rose said, staring out their front window as clouds continued to darken the skies. "And I've been frustrated. It was like…"
"Like what?" James prompted softly, giving her knee a squeeze. "You can tell me. I want to know."
Rose sighed. "It was like you didn't even care that you were hurting me."
"That's not true!" James protested, lifting his head from her shoulder so he could look at her.
"But that's what it felt like," Rose said, finally meeting his gaze. "I was watching you starve yourself, and go days at a time with only four or five hours of solid sleep. Do you know how terrifying that was? And nothing I did seemed to help, because you insisted you didn't need any help, so you pushed yourself further. And I didn't know whether to keep arguing with you or to let you go! Every time I tried to hint that you weren't okay, you drew further away from me. But if I stopped bringing it up, I felt like I was failing you by not caring that you weren't okay. I didn't know what to do, James."
James felt like he'd been punched in the gut. All these months he'd been hoping to reassure Rose by trying to continue on as normal, and he'd hoped if he just worked hard enough, he could make himself feel better.
"I'm sorry," he croaked.
"I felt so bloody helpless," Rose murmured, scrubbing her hands across her face. "And useless."
"You were far from useless," James said. "I appreciated everything you did for me, even if I didn't want to at the time. I'm so sorry I let it get this bad, and I'm sorry I never thanked you for this past year. You have been the best part of the year."
Rose reached out and cradled the back of his neck in her palm. Her thumb brushed through his hair as she whispered, "You've been the best part of my year too." She leaned forward to press a tender kiss to his forehead. "And even though we've hit a few bumps in the road—" She kissed his right cheek. "—We're still fantastic." She kissed his left cheek. "And this year is going to be even better." She finally slotted her lips over his, sighing at the familiar contact and the warmth and pleasure it brought. "I love you."
James reclaimed her lips as he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. He'd missed this so much, the intimacy of merely holding Rose and kissing her. Sure, they shagged fairly regularly, but that wasn't the same as making love, where they truly became one, body and soul, and let themselves be completely immersed in their love for each other.
As he continued to leisurely kiss Rose, he vowed that he would take his time off to properly be with Rose once more.
And he did. He spent the end of her semester pampering her and cooking for her and helping her study for exams. They hardly left their flat, but James relished the domesticity and quietness of his life.
When James's two weeks of vacation were up, he filed for an extended leave, effective until the first of July. He spent most of his time with Rose, taking trips with her all across the UK as they reconnected and rekindled the love that had been suffocated over the past few months. And when they weren't traveling, they were redecorating their flat.
They took a week to repaint their bedroom in shades of dark blue and silver, and on one of the walls, Rose painted a picture of a forest at night in the wintertime. James sat on their canvass-protected bed and watched her work, in awe as she took paint and transformed it into the beautiful picture in her head. The bare branches cast shadows on the rest of the trees around it, and everything was blanketed in a gentle snow while the full moon she was just putting the finishing touches on cast everything in a silvery glow.
"You are so brilliant," he breathed as she turned back around to face him with a proud smile on her face. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and her face and hands were covered in paint, but she was stunningly beautiful in this moment.
He shimmied off the bed and took her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her hands went to his hair, and he knew he probably now had paint in his hair, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he deepened the kiss. Their hands wandered teasingly across each other's body as the kiss grew more heated, and later in the shower, they laughed as they worked on scrubbing paint off of each other's bum.
When the first of July finally rolled around, James found he wasn't dreading going back to work. He wasn't as excited as he wanted to be, but he hoped that would change as he dipped his toes back into his research project.
He started out with half days, only staying at the lab for no more than five hours, which gradually lengthened to six, then seven, until by the end of the month, he was spending eight to ten hours in his lab without realizing it.
"I'm so happy to see you happy," Rose told him on the morning of her first day of classes as they walked hand-in-hand across campus.
"Me too," he said with a grin, and he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
oOoOo
"You're gonna be brilliant, love," he wrote as he plopped down in a seat in the huge auditorium.
I hope so. Talk to you after the performance, love.
James spotted her immediately when the stage began immediately filling with the orchestra students, and he smiled proudly at her as she took her seat at the grand piano on the right-hand side of the stage.
It was the first winter concert for the orchestra ensemble, and Rose had been gripped with nerves for the past week. He'd tried to assure her she would be fine, that she was a wonderful musician, but he suspected it was normal to feel jittery before a first major performance. Hopefully tonight would go well and would bolster her confidence.
James thought the concert went smashingly. From the opening chord to the closing one, he was enraptured by the music, and kept his eyes glued to Rose, marveling at how relaxed and poised she looked behind the piano.
He was gripped with such pride as he stood with the crowd and applauded the orchestra, and his Rose.
He found her after the performance and scooped her up into a hug. She giggled in his ear and clung to him as he spun her around, making the skirt of her dress float around their legs.
"That was beautiful!" he enthused, setting her back on her feet. "Absolutely fantastic!"
"I'm glad you liked it," Rose laughed, lacing her hand with his as she walked with James to their car.
"Liked it? I loved it! I'm coming to all of these performances."
Rose grimaced at him. "You don't have to. You'll get so bored! It's the same pieces night after night."
"There is nothing boring about watching my soulmate doing something she loves," James corrected, pressing a kiss to her palm as he opened up the car door for her.
True to his word, James was at every single concert, cheering her on from the audience, and on the last performance of the season, he accompanied Rose to the afterparty at the local pub and met all of her orchestra friends. Rose was so pleased to see how well James got along with her friends, and vice versa.
With that final concert came the end of the semester, and another round of exams and stress, which made the reprieve of the winter holidays much more enjoyable.
They celebrated Christmas in the same manner as last year, by eating dinner at Robert's flat. More family had been invited, and between James, Rose, Jackie, Robert, Mickey, Rita-Ann, the Nobles, and his mother's parents, the flat had become quite crowded.
"Perhaps next year we can try to go back to Scotland for the holidays?" James suggested to his dad as the two of them loaded the dishwasher.
"Maybe," Robert said, and then he smiled softly at James. "And maybe we'll have something else to celebrate then too?"
James's cheeks flushed red as he bit his lip, the ring he'd bought for Rose seeming to burn a hole in his pocket, where he'd kept it for the last four days.
"Was gonna ask this morning," James said, brushing his hand across the velvet box. "But it seemed too cliché. I think I've got a better idea, though."
"Well good luck with it, mate," Robert said, clapping James on the back. "I've no doubt she'll say yes."
James smiled in gratitude at the confidence, and left the kitchen to join Rose and the rest of the family in the living room, where they were marathoning Christmas films.
oOoOo
James smiled down at Rose as she curled up on her side and hugged his half of the blankets to her chest. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as she was tucked up in bed, a combination of the lateness of the hour, the alcohol they'd consumed, and the New Year's Eve shag they just finished.
James grinned smugly down at her, his male ego proud that he'd worn her out so thoroughly. It was an excellent way to ring in the new hear, if he said so himself.
He pressed a soft kiss to her temple as he reached for his pen. He quietly clicked it open and wrote down a message for her for when she woke up. He saw the ink on the arm that was wrapped around the sheets, and he let out a nervous breath, knowing tomorrow morning couldn't come soon enough.
"Blanket hog," he murmured as he carefully worked his half of their blankets out of her grasp. She blearily blinked open her eyes and smiled sluggishly at him before flopping onto her back.
James wriggled into bed beside her before falling asleep himself.
He woke up before she did, and contented himself to watch her. Her hair was mussed and there were pillow creases across her cheek, but she was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
"You're starin'," Rose mumbled, cracking an eye open and smirked up at him.
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"You got me," he said. "Morning, love. Happy anniversary."
Rose grinned and rolled over to face him.
"Happy anniversary, James," she replied, reaching out to wrap her hand around his neck to tug him in for a kiss. But a flash of blue ink caught her eye and she pulled back, ignoring his pout to read his message.
Hello, Happy New Year. She furrowed her brows; James never wrote anything that generic on her arms, but the words tugged at a distant memory that slipped further away as she tried to grab it.
"Those were the first words I'd ever written to you," James murmured, resting his forearm next to hers to look at the duplicate message on their arms.
"That's right," Rose said, the memory getting clearer. She had woken up on New Year's Day to those four words on her arms and had run to her mum in fear and confusion.
"Today is my favorite day of the year for so many reasons," he said, lacing their hands together. "It's the beginning of a brand new year. A fresh start. And it's the day I was marked as forever yours.
"And I as yours," Rose said, tracing her fingertips across his forearm.
"I know that being soulmates is as committed as we can get," James said, reaching under his pillow for the little velvet box he'd stashed there the night before. "But I was thinking we could maybe have a more visual, traditional representation of our togetherness?"
Rose's breath hitched when she saw the box, and she squeezed James's fingers when he flicked it open. The most gorgeous ring Rose had ever seen was nestled inside.
"Marry me, love?" he asked quietly, his heart throbbing in his throat.
"Yes," Rose said. "God, yes!"
She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for the kiss that had been aborted a few minutes ago. He hummed into her mouth as their lips moved against each other's in a familiar and pleasurable dance. He wrapped his hand around her hip and tugged her closer to him as she scratched her fingers lightly through his hair.
Desire pooled low in his belly as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and slowly lifted herself to straddle his hips. He groaned in approval and moved his hands to her hips to tug her closer, but was impeded by the little box in his left hand.
He reluctantly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers as he panted slightly.
"Shall I put it on you?" he asked excitedly, already taking the ring out of the box.
"Yes, please," Rose grinned, sitting back on his thighs.
He took her left hand in his and slipped the ring onto her finger.
"James, it's beautiful," she breathed, admiring her new ring. The main stone was a sapphire, set elegantly in a small wreath of diamonds. The platinum band twined around the round sapphire like four slender vines, holding the stone in place. Small, leaf-shaped diamonds flanked the center stone in a delicate, floral setting.
"Yeah?" he asked. "You like it?"
"I love it," she corrected, holding her hand out to inspect her newest piece of jewelry.
James wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her chest. Rose's fingers absently stroked his hair, making him shiver in pleasure and reminding him of the activity they'd been starting.
He turned his head to press a series of kisses across the swell of her breasts as he dipped his hands beneath her knickers to knead at her bum, reigniting their ready arousal.
He tugged Rose closer into his lap, urging her to grind against him as he worked on divesting them of their shirts. Once their top halves were bare, James tried to think of a way to get their pants off without displacing her from his lap.
He moaned and buried his face into her shoulder as she rubbed against him in a way that sent a particularly potent spark of pleasure through his veins. But then she was gone, and he whimpered as he clung tight to her to keep her in his lap.
Rose laughed softly and said, "This'll probably feel a bit better if we get our pants off, love."
"Felt good before," James mumbled, even as he scrambled on his back to tug his boxer off.
He got them to his ankles and kicked them away before Rose was suddenly on top of him again. He bit his lip as his eyes fluttered shut when she settled herself on his erection. She ground down on him, moaning as she teased them both with her movements.
"Please, love," James begged, arching up into her. "Let me be inside you."
Rose shivered at the raw need in his voice, and her hand fumbled between them to line him up. She sighed in pleasure as she sank down on him, feeling so full.
She rested her hands on his chest as she gave them both a moment to adjust, and James could feel the coolness of the metal band of her ring against his skin. He was gripped with such pride that the woman above him was his. Just as he was hers.
She leaned down and kissed him softly as she started to move on top of him, achingly slowly. He moaned lowly in pleasure as he arched up into her movements, quickly finding her rhythm and matching it. They made love slowly and tenderly and without a care in the world until finally their ecstasy couldn't be contained and they spiraled into explosive bliss together.