DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN WINX CLUB.
Hi, guys! :) First off, I'm a little late on this, but A BELATED MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A VERY, VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR! ❤︎ How are all you gorgeous people doing today?! ^-^ I'm so happy RN because 1) winter is my absolute favorite time of the year (and it's still winter, so yay!), and 2) I'm so super pumped to move on to 2021! :D I wish 2020 could've been better for us all, and I hope 2021 can bring everyone twice the joy and laughter they missed out on. ❤︎
…
Okay! Back to fun things! :) Over the last many months, I've been super busy with my academics, so I wasn't as active as I'd like to have been. I felt sad that I couldn't write anything for Thanksgiving or Christmas, so I tried my absolute hardest to at least have something up for New Year's. But, being the sloth that I am, I still wasn't able to finish the story; it's somehow taking me forever and half to do that. -_- This chapter was originally intended to be the last one, and before getting into it, I thought it was going to take me about 20 pages to finish it all. But now, I'm at forty-five (no margins and all) and it's still nowhere near done. *-* So I figured I'd just post what I have now and upload the rest later. I'm really sorry about that. :( I know I'm being unbearably fickle and saying twenty different things at once, but please bear with me just this one time. Life has just gotten so busy and bossy lately, but I thought I would still post cuz it's the holidays and a brand-new year. I think there will be about 2-3 parts left, but I won't make any promises this time cuz…I'm apparently not very good at keeping them. -.-
Anyway. That being said, I also didn't just randomly cut off the story at the end and post whatever. Similar to how Part 1 focuses (sort of) on Stella's emotional development, Part 2 also follows a specific narrative. Sort of. *-* So...I hope you find the update to be at least somewhat satisfying? :)
~ Palace of Domino - 8:15 AM ~
From the distance, Brandon watched as the object of his interest spoke to...who is that—is that Prince Sky of Eraklyon? He narrowed his eyes, guessing accurately. Not that he needed many efforts to recognize the man anyway. The shoulder-length, flaxen hair was a dead giveaway. Brandon blinked, his orbs abruptly narrowing into irritated slits when he noticed the blond-haired prince petting Stella and smiling at her almost...affectionately.
...
Um.
…
…Now what was that? What were they doing? Weren't they just...friends? Could they be more than that—could they be dating or something? His skin paled in comparison as he observed the exchange with a deep frown.
...
Uh uh. No way. No way that that can be true. No way she moved on that fast. He had been stalking her on the net for so long that he would've definitely known if she had been getting frisky with any guy, much less the Crowned Prince of again, who knew? The media isn't exactly the most reliable outlet out there.
Ugh, who am I kidding? Of course she didn't. Of course she didn't move on. They're just friends, he reasoned with himself, recalling that the Winx were indeed close-knit friends with an elite group of Red Fountain graduates. What was their name again? What was it they called themselves? The Specialists? Was that it? A little egotistic but catchy, he rolled his eyes, remotely amused.
Ignoring that intrusive guy beside her, Brandon sighed to himself. He had a bigger problem at hand. Whether or not she was seeing someone, that was secondary (not really, but he can get to that later); he's actually busier wondering where and how on Domino he's going to cook up an excuse to just talk to her first. There were so many things he wanted—no, needed to say to her, and he had no idea where to start. Should he just march up to her like a rogue and demand her time? Or maybe write a letter or something, telling her to meet him somewhere? Oooh, what about going under the pretense of a secret admirer and bombarding her with lousy pickup lines? He ignored the fact that she'd gladly kick his ass for it if she ever found out that it was him all along, wheeling her from behind the scenes.
He sighed again, dismissing every one of those pitiful ideas with annoyance. God, was he always this lame? Why would that bullshit ever work? Why did he even think that it would? That, too, on a girl like her? She wasn't one to fall for or go gaga over such cheap tricks.
...
It's official. The first rule he'll enact when he becomes a king is require every soldier—more like every male in the kingdom—to take a refresher course in approaching a woman. How else was he supposed to be an expert at wooing one? He was a warrior, for heaven's sake, a freaking soldier, not some geeky love poet who knows how to eloquently pen his feelings onto a paper. He had spent his free time either hunting or healing, not reciting soliloquies to his long-lost sweetheart.
He watched Stella, Bloom, and that Prince Charming (whom he was already starting to detest, by the way) rise and make their way to the surfeit amounts of food, eloquently laid on the tables along the walls of the courtyard.
His lips twitched slightly upwards in remembrance of a fond memory. Back at Audelia, during the one week she had stayed there, whenever they ate, be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner, she always ate to her maximum fill. That's one of the many things he noticed and remembered about her; she loved food and was excited about everything, not just limiting her compliments to the main course of the day.
"Those were the best cherries I ever had!" she beamed as they walked down the hallway.
"I'll relay that to the cooks," he smiled back at her.
"You should!" she raved enthusiastically. "We don't find them very often on my planet," she informed him. Cherries typically grow in the monsoon seasons, and rain is unheard of in Solaria.
He cut the reminder short, frowning briefly, coercing himself to stop before his mind could replay the endless loop of the memories he had of her, even if they weren't that many to begin with. See, those memories would always be there for him, comfort him, even after this festive celebration. They would always be accessible, within immediate distance. But not her. She would leave after this is over, taking his newfound smile with her, so he might as well create something new to remember and reminisce about later on.
Also...is it weird that whenever he remembered anything about her, he didn't see Bloom? One would think that he would, but no. Even though he had talked to a face that's been swindled, he didn't remember it anymore. In every frame, in every memory, he saw Stella, almost as if…Bloom was never there to begin with. Glancing at the oblivious princess not so far away, he narrowed his eyes in deep thought. Only question is...would she believe him if he found a way to tell her that? He didn't know if she even thought about him anymore, but…he just wanted her to know that. That he noticed her for far more than a pretty face.
He pursed his lips together as he watched her get in line behind her sister and the prince. A little light bulb went off in his head, and he realized that this was the perfect excuse to go see her. "...Dad, I'm gonna go grab myself a bite," he smiled hastily, quickly dismissing himself from the table to head towards her. Despite the numerous people that annoyingly clouded his vision and got in his way, her sparkly gown didn't let her disappear out of his sight. As he grew nearer, his heart involuntarily seized and grew tighter. He sort of wanted her to see him, yet he was just as content with watching her, admiring her from afar.
If only that was the only reason he was forced to stay away from her though...
If only the reason to stay away from her was to admire her...God, so much—so much would be easier. So much. But that wasn't the case. He wasn't just a lovesick admirer. He was a reminder. A reminder that nothing good ever came out of him for her. A reminder of the priceless tears she had shed. A reminder that he was the one who caused her blood to spill. Why would she ever forgive him for that? Hell, had he even forgiven himself yet? No. No, he hadn't. And maybe, just maybe, that's why he was just so darn happy to see her here of all places. This wasn't some officialized business meeting or an interdimensional summit, where royals gather to discuss impending threats or sign treaties. No, this was a party. A celebration. After months of no news from her, what are the odds again that he was able to see her like this, on this particular day? This was her first public appearance, after all, since the entire ordeal, so how lucky did he have to be to meet her again on such a happy occasion? An event that she, too, is willing to revel and smile about? It was just the slightest sliver of hope, that maybe—just maybe—in showing up to events like this, she had moved on from everything that's happened and even...forgiven Audelia, forgiven him.
Letting out an anxious exhale, he hid himself amidst the eager hordes of partygoers, careful to not reveal his presence or make eye contact with her. Yet.
He took a plate, joining the buffet line and cursing the six people who were between him and her. Couldn't they have joined elsewhere? He thought testily. Oh, well. He was at least closer to her now, standing just six to seven feet away than the tens of tables or hundreds of realms that separated her from him before.
"C'mon, Sky, move it!"
His breath hitched in his throat when he heard her voice—her true voice—for the first time. For the first time in months. And not in the angry, bitter, and hostile tone that he was used to. Instead...it was a carefree one, laced with wit, sarcasm, and lightheartedness. A tone that people speak in when they're happy and even...playful.
Watching her impatiently tug the blond-haired man in front of her, Brandon couldn't help but yet again grow curious of their relationship. Were they really just friends? Nothing more?
"Jeez, what's the rush, Stell?" Prince Sky asked with a light chuckle.
"Do you seriously not see those chocolate strawberries running out?" she cutely pointed out, eagerly eyeing the thick, creamy, smooth finish of dried milk chocolate on each of the strawberries not so far away.
Brandon couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself, repressing a fond smile. What a blunt and amusing princess. A one in a million, he would bet. Honestly, who says such things in public? Girls from noble blood are typically expected to be...too mannered. Prim, proper, and stiff. Docile, even. But this girl ain't any of that...and he liked it. Smirking faintly, he moved along the line with mostly an empty plate in hand. He really wasn't much of a desserts or sweets person to begin with. So even though this queue is for confectionery, he didn't mind staying here if it meant that he'd get to hear her voice.
Pacing forward every now and then, he paused for a moment when he reached the refilled trays of chocolate-covered strawberries, sinfully coated with a decadence of exquisiteness. With little thought, he tossed a few into his plate, figuring he'd give 'em a try anyway.
His eyes began to scour for her again before they quickly glued onto the champagne dress and matching golden locks breaking away from the line. With an empty glass in her hand, she seemed to be heading for the drinks. What caught his attention the most was that she was alone. Finally. It was annoying enough to distance himself from her without her trusty entourage blocking his way. Before long, he pulled away from the line himself, following her within a close distance.
Watching her stop to strike a conversation with Princess Krystal of Linphea, he used this time to fill his plate with spicy goodies from another set of tables. He didn't exactly want to stand around stupidly and make it even more obvious that he's here to see her and no one else. He could see mobs of media personnel squished and restrained in a corner, and he didn't want to risk getting photographed and stamped in headlines with her of all people. Even though the chances of that happening are quite slim anyway since there are at least hundreds of other royals and nobles here, it never pays to be too safe or paranoid.
Remaining in close proximity, he traveled around her within a ten-foot radius, the distance gradually lessening as he noticed her wrapping up the conversation with Krystal (finally). He hadn't realized how deliriously close he had been to her until she turned around and walked barely a short distance before bumping straight into him.
She squeaked, clearly caught off-guard at the wall blocking her path. She dropped her glass in sheer surprise and gasped at the way the plate uneasily tilted to her awkward movements.
In the meantime, he easily caught the flying crystalware by its stem, holding it upright before reflexively extending the glass back to her. "Careful, Princess," he said softly before he could even help himself, his eyes too glued to her to care.
Shit, he later realized, cursing himself at the slip-up. God, no, he wasn't supposed to let her know yet…
The fleeting dash of adrenaline slowly wearing off, his skin started to burn at where she just crashed into him, and he had to do everything in his power to deny the primal instincts that wanted to keep her right here, in his arms.
"I'm so—" she started to hastily apologize, seemingly in too much of a hurry to even notice him as she adjusted her fitted gown, before her eyes moved upwards, and that's when she froze, "—sorry..." She trailed off, her skin paling instantly, her body turning as rigid as stone.
...
Her eyes soon became as immobile as the rest of her face, as if her brain no longer functioned to absorb any other news. And so did his, for that matter, as his heart raced. It was as if everything had gone silent, his heartbeat being the only thing he was conscious of. Every pound, every pressure, every beat rang in his ears, the same way it did the first time he saw her on that TV in his room many months ago.
He didn't understand how anyone could be so stunning, so breathtakingly beautiful that it was just impossible to look away. She didn't have a face that came from professional makeup or expensive products; that wasn't her thing. She was all about simplicity, letting her natural beauty shine through a childlike exuberance. Whenever she did that, whenever she smiled or laughed, he couldn't help but follow along with her, even it's just on the inside. And God, those eyes...despite the nightfall, they still shone so brightly and resembled two fiery pools of embers. She used just enough eyeliner and shadow on them to enhance their spellbinding power, not overwhelm or cover their innate beauty. His world slowed as they bore into his own, and he simply couldn't look away, not that he even wanted to. This was the one opportunity he had, to be so close to her without eliciting any suspicion. Watching her soft lips drop open in surprise and remain parted, he could tell that she was not expecting to see him here. Heh...neither was he, to be honest. He had hoped that he'd see her again, but never did he imagine that he really would. Had he known in advance…well, let's just say that he would've spent ten extra hours getting ready rather than ten minutes.
They were both so quiet, so absolutely still as they stared each other out, neither of them ready to speak up first. Heck, if not for the moving landscape or their hearts beating, one could easily mistake them as just two statues oddly facing one another.
Stella froze, the shock from seeing him out-of-the-blue devouring her whole. His presence was so out of character, so unexpected, that she just stared at him, open-mouthed.
He really was here. In the flesh. Seeing him hold the glass in front of her, she knew that he can't be a figment of her imagination. He was much more than that, too real to be fake. "..." She swallowed, her voice dying in her throat. She didn't know what to do or say. Her body was too iced to move and her words too squeaky to take flight. A distinct fear traveled in her veins, though it never made its way to her face.
Three months. Just three months. Granted it wasn't that long, but it sure seemed like it. Like an eternity had passed since she last locked eyes with him. He didn't change much. Well...maybe a little, she observed. The last image she remembered of him consisted of him being utterly neutral towards her and his eyes sagging with disappointment. But tonight, they were different. Tonight, they told another story. They were somehow...gentle. Calming, even. They bore a resemblance to the brown depths she fell for all those ages ago, from the moment he ditched the customary hellos and greeted her with a soft kiss on the cheek instead. They were a gorgeous hue of roasted copper, not that it mattered, since his eyes would be beautiful in any shade. It's the intensity they radiated that she loved the most, a soft, fuzzy feeling that fluttered her heart and made her go weak in the knees.
Her eyes slowly traveled down to his extended hand, noticing especially the way he cupped the glass with long, slender fingers. She grew green with envy, wishing that she was the one who slipped into his palms instead.
Oh, God, she swallowed, now terrified at her line of thought. She let out a shaky sigh, breaking the contact away in a flash, albeit unwillingly. God, this was wrong, just so, so wrong. Her breaths started to come out in irregular spurts (not that they already weren't), and she had to bite the insides of her cheek to keep herself from screaming. This was not happening. She was dreaming. Three months of isolation had gone to her head, and now her brain was betraying her in the worst way possible. That's all this was. She never got on that ship, she never came to Domino, and she never bumped into him. This was all a very elaborate hallucination, one that has clearly gone out of control.
She blinked back and forth in a dirty attempt to erase all this and wake up from this nightmare, only to find that she cannot, much to her growing dismay. God, she really wished she had heeded to Bloom's advice earlier and opted to chicken out from this stupid, stupid party. She just can't be here anymore; she needed to leave.
She quickly reached for her glass, only to pause suddenly in mid-air when she, too, noticed the paparazzi stuffed in the far corners of the courtyard. She paled, realizing that every second spent near him is actually one step closer to a death wish. With a deep breath, she locked her eyes with his awaiting browns once more before withdrawing her hand in the last second and abruptly turning on her heel. Without a word and without wasting another breath. She left him there, missing the clear frown on his face, though that was the last thing she was worried about. She eyed her surroundings with suspicion, wondering if anyone had noticed that horrific exchange. When she spotted Bloom and Sky still hovering around the buffet queues, the rest of her friends grooving on the dance floor, and her parents frolicking with other royals, she breathed out a soft sigh of relief. Okay, good. She turned to stare at her plate, her body no longer consumed by an appetite to devour these goodies whole. She had been looking forward to this, she had been so excited, but now...she felt as flat as a deflated balloon.
Shutting her eyes, she fisted her hands in a poor attempt to compose herself, but she wasn't able to. She can't do this anymore. She just—she needed to leave. Now. She didn't care what anyone had to say about it. She'll tell them that she was going to the bathroom or something and care less whether or not they choose to believe it. At the end of the day, her health and well-being were important to her, and she can't forsake them just to satisfy a couple of cameras or people's needs for attention.
She made her way to Bloom, who was still busy picking out on what to stuff her face with. The blonde tapped on her shoulder, making the redhead immediately turn around. "Stell!" Bloom's eyes lit up at the sight of her sister. "Hey, have you tried this?!" she chirped, holding up a goblet with a red-colored drink. "You really should! I think it's called Cherry Sunset—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's great, but—" the blonde interrupted but was cut off again.
"And hey, if you're done filling your plate, you should really go sit down," Bloom advised. "The last thing we want is our seats being stolen," she muttered with an unladylike snort, absentmindedly peering over the blonde's shoulder to see if their table still remained unoccupied. "I think I see—"
"Yeah, about that—"
"—people over there, so we should—
"Bloom!" Stella interrupted sternly this time, intent on putting the redhead's excitement to rest.
"—go and—huh?" Bloom finally turned to the vexed blonde with confusion all over her face. "What?"
Stella took a deep breath before responding. "I'm leaving," she revealed quietly, quickly getting to the point before she could feel guilty.
Bloom froze, her blue eyes widening with concern. "What—why, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Stella shook her head and quickly plastered a smile to reassure the worried redhead. "I just...I don't feel well," the blonde shrugged. At least she wasn't lying; she really wasn't feeling too well. Mentally.
Bloom remained quiet for a moment. "Is this about—"
"It isn't," Stella cut in quickly before Bloom could go into another lecture about the-kingdom-which-shall-not-be-named.
"Then why?" Bloom protested. "I mean, you were okay until now!"
Yeah, well, things change when you crash into your ex-fiancé, Stella had to resist the urge to roll her eyes out loud. "Why, am I not allowed to change my mind?"
"You know that's not what I meant," Bloom sighed. "I mean, look around. Everyone seems so happy, and the party barely started."
"So what? I have six more to attend," Stella shrugged her shoulders before biting her tongue at the truth of that statement. Oh, dear God...she had six more of these to attend. "Look, Bloom, it's not about them, okay? I really don't feel well."
"Can't you stay for at least an hour?" Bloom pleaded. "What about at least until we eat?" she suggested hopefully, gesturing to their filled plates.
Stella gently shook her head, regretting. She hated to disappoint her friends—she really did—but she just...she just can't bear to be in the same area as those monsters. She knew she had a week more of this, but at least she'll be a little prepared tomorrow. She was in no condition to do that tonight. She needed to be alone for a while, but this party promised her the exact opposite of that. "I'll stay tomorrow, for as long as you want. Just...let me go tonight. Please."
Bloom sighed in defeat, being far too familiar with Stella's stubbornness to argue any further. Once her sister made up her mind, there was no changing it. "...You're really okay though, right?" the redhead asked again, just to be sure.
Stella simply nodded. Not really, but whatever.
"Okay. Go. I'll cover for you."
Stella breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful that the redhead was wise enough to not argue any further. "What will you say?" she paused again, curious.
Bloom paused for a moment. "Periods? Cramps?" she offered, making it up on the spot. They were the easiest get-out-of-anything excuses for girls.
Stella frowned. "...I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you using those," she admitted.
"Well, it's either that or really bad diarrhea," Bloom snorted, shrugging carelessly.
Stella giggled, faintly amused. "Fine. Just don't blow my cover," she warned.
Bloom nodded before the blonde finally took her cue to leave. The moment she did though, her smile became droopy and turned into a frown, one of pain, sadness, and even...humiliation. Shaking her head, she made her way towards the same doors she came from earlier. She headed inside, intent on disappearing into her room and staying here until this whole thing blows over.
She didn't know to what extent Bloom believed her lame excuse, and even though she hated herself for being such a party pooper, she just didn't have it in her to even fake the energy to be happy.
Stella frowned as she caught glimpses of her reflection in the vinyl floor tiles below her feet. She had put in so much effort, climbed so many steps down to bid an adieu to her past, to move forward, only for it to come flouncing back into her face, ready to hole her heart again. Like...why? How is that fair? Hasn't she suffered enough? What more did fate think she had to lose?
And the worst part was that...no one understood her. No one understood where she was coming from. Instead, they were only judging her. It felt as if she was all alone in this battle. People are treating her sympathetically, like shewas the only one affected. Why, didn't they matter too? Audelia has threatened all of them, not just her. Why aren't they remembering that and choosing to mollycoddle her instead? How sick is it that the only person who understood her was herself?
...
She changed course and simply left, ignoring him completely. And he couldn't do anything else but frown after her. It's not like he expected open arms or warm welcomes, but...he didn't see cold shoulders coming either. A part of him couldn't help but feel a little...disappointed. He figured he'd at least get a taste of her attitude, but no, she showed him nothing of that sort. She didn't blink, she didn't speak, she didn't smile—heck, she didn't even glare. She just ran, turning the other way and dusting his presence off as if nothing happened.
...
Well.
...At least one thing hasn't changed. She was still good at surprising people; he'll give her that.
His eyes saddened even further as he watched her speak to her sister for a good bit and then head back into the castle.
...
...Why, did he bother her so much that she was compelled to leave now?
He sighed, his eyes falling on the ignored glassware in his hands. His grip tightened around the cusp of it, his jaw clenching out of pure frustration.
God, why couldn't he have become engaged to a normal princess? Why did it have to be such a stubborn, unyielding one? Why wasn't it someone different? Maybe someone who didn't make his breath hitch. Someone who didn't give him cheesy butterflies. Someone he didn't have to chase. Someone who was not special. Someone who was just a nobody. There were countless princesses scattered across the Magical Dimension, countless girls willing to marry him on the spot. Hey, it's only true. His parents could've—should've—picked anyone; why did it have to be her?
His jaw tensed as he glanced around, the excitement on everyone's faces being too immense to ignore. Guests still rained in, and the paparazzi were still trying to invade everyone's privacy to get a single decent snap. But him? He was rooted to the spot, feeling like an absolute loser and downright humiliated, though the snobby nutjobs around him were probably too hungry or drunk to care. His shoulders slumped and his eyes were cast down into a forlorn gaze. He had read everything he could about her, searched high and low, traveled around for months, and when he did end up finding her...she made him seem so pathetic, so pitiful. Going out of her way to hurt him like that again, she could've had one and only one reason to do it.
She STILL hated him.
That was the only explanation he had to justify her demeanor against him.
For months, he wanted only one thing. In fact, he would play this little game in his head. What would he do to spend one more minute with her? What would he sacrifice?
His title? Check.
His royal stature. Check.
His privileged life? CHECK.
And as scary as that sounded—at least, as scary as that should've sounded—he didn't find it difficult to want to leave everything behind for that one minute with her. Given what happened, after all the bad blood they shared and shed for one another, it almost felt...like the right thing to do. Like he somehow owed it to her.
After so long, after months, today...he finally got that minute.
...And he almost wished that he hadn't. What was the point anyway? She didn't even care to acknowledge him.
...
God forbid, this fucking wretched title was the cause of everything. If he had been born into a normal family, lived a normal life, he would've been able to be with the woman he wanted. He would gladly give his royal status up, if it meant that he had at least a slim chance with her. After stalking—erm, no, after researching her past, he came to know that she had indeed dated a few guys—grrrr—who weren't exactly of noble blood. Maybe she would've given him a chance too then, if he had been a squire or something.
He instantly lost his appetite, her actions being too cold to let him focus on anything else. With the hurt covering him like a cloak and bonding to his skin like no other, he was in no mood to entertain himself or anyone, for that matter, with superficial grins and refillable champagne glasses. No longer having it in him to continue this facade any longer, the brunet sighed before ditching his food at an empty table.
Without a word, he, too, like her, changed course and...left.
In the opposite direction. Somewhere away from her, JUST the way he knew she probably preferred.
Slamming the door shut on her way in, Stella plastered her back to it, breathing hard. She almost felt as if she was sinking, her legs too fatigued to swim and her head too heavy to stay afloat. She could feel the panic in her heart hammering against her ribs as the reality sunk into her.
Brandon.
He was here. The one person she wanted to see, yet never wanted to see. Talk about irony.
...
God...why...? Just why? Why now? Surely...it can't be just a coincidence that he's here too. It just...can't be. I mean, how...her brain breathlessly searched for an explanation. Honestly. What are the chances of walking into someone like that, and that too barely a day after coming out of hiding? Especially when that someone was the one responsible for her going underground in the first place? "...Jerk," she chastised him with a depressed scowl, her voice echoing dully in the quiet, unresponsive bedroom. She slowly sank to the floor. How could he...? Just how could—no, how dare he come back and haunt her again like this? It had to have been intentional.
Drawing her knees close to her chest, she looked around her in silence, her eyes intent on finding a distraction. The walls, curtains, lamps, bed, decor—gosh, everything suddenly looked so foreign. None of them reflected her taste. The strange environment brought about a familiar feeling of déjà vu in her; it almost felt as if...she was back in her room at Audelia again. A place she didn't belong to or connect with, yet a place that would've been her home if all went "well." She glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the door and hoping that she might hear a knock on it again. Just like she did the last time, from him.
Sighing softly when she didn't (not sure why she even thought she would), she came out of her land of fantasies and faced the reality at hand. It's official. Audelia, Brandon, the forest, that bitch-witch—she just…she just wanted to put everything behind her and never open this horrid chapter again. On the outside, she may look perfect and flawless (hey, it's only true), but on the inside, regardless of how many people thought she was being a sullen, unnecessary drama queen, only she knew just how painful her healed scars still were. If it was so easy to "get over it" or "forget it and move on", for Pete's sake, she would've fucking done it already. She didn't need to hear this repetitive, free "advice" constantly. In fact, she viewed the tirade more as judgment rather than concern.
She had to admit one thing. She was tired. So, so, so tired. And it's not the kind that will simply go away and leave her alone after a good night's sleep; there's another one that needs so much more. This whole back-and-forth argument in her head, the emotions that seem to burst out of her at the mere thought of him, this whole running-away thing that she's been doing ever since she returned from Audelia—all of these need to stop. For her own good. They've trapped her in a vicious, lucid nightmare, one that she can't seem to wake herself up or walk away from. She feared to think out loud, talk openly, appear in public, put herself out there, smile, laugh—she feared to even be herself. She may be "free" now, but the bindings were still in place. Audelia still had anchors on her.
Stella took deep breaths, keeping her mouth closed and doing everything she could to keep herself from screaming out loud. And this stupid room—no offense, Daphne—suddenly felt cramped and claustrophobic to her, and she knew she can't stay here either for too long.
She stood up slowly, using shaky, weak knees to prop herself up. Her limbs moved like a mechanical clockwork doll as she wobbled over to the balcony for some fresh air.
She refrained from catching sight of her reflection in the mirrors, on the translucent glass panes of the windows, and on those parts of the floor that weren't covered by carpets or rugs. She didn't want to look at herself. Hiding behind a smile that she didn't really mean, spinning lies with her lips, using designer gowns and jewelry to weigh down the bitter ache in her heart (as if money could ever fix anything)...and there seemed to be no end to the list. She didn't want to be someone like that. She didn't want to be a master at fake smiles. She didn't want to convince herself that she was okay when in truth, she was not. She didn't want to wear a mask; she wore one long enough.
With resolve, she hastily proceeded to take the dress off her, not caring to listen to the poor thing's pleas to go easy on it as the stitches ripped loose. The sounds of a fabric being unpleasantly torn and removed fell on deaf ears. Until tonight, she had never ever, ever, EVER taken her anger out on clothing; so for her to even ignore the death of such a stunning designer gown right now, something she had spent ages on to get it perfected to her desire, meant she. was. PISSED. Her eyebrows furrowed in irritation as the sequins, rhinestones, and a million other gems scraped across her sensitive skin, inciting her anger even more. With a final, frustrated growl, she heaved the dress off her body, leaving it to miserably fall into an amorphous heap on the floor.
Shivering as the cold kissed her bare skin, she walked over to the windows, pressing her face gently against the glass as she watched ships still soar in through the skies. Jeez, how many guests did Domino invite? She turned around before deciding to head out for a while, somewhere far enough from here. With this music pounding away in her ears, she'd never be able to relax or rest.
Opening one of her lumpy suitcases, the blonde delved into her casual wear and pulled out a pair, sighing as she held them in her arms. She rolled her eyes as she started to change. Who would've ever thought she'd ditch heels for sneakers?
…Certainly not her.
He absentmindedly watched his feet glide along the well-trimmed grass, his black patent oxfords seeming so out-of-place with the dirty ground and his footfalls being next to silent. His hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, he cruised around with nonchalance, throwing brief glances at the lustrous castle from time to time. Even though he was well away from laughter and music, the ominous silence that filled the air here was far more comforting. No guards, no people, no cameras, no ruckus. Just silence all around.
He treaded quietly on the grassy waves, bearing a frown that was too disheartening for his own good.
Why on earth would she run from me like that? He dumbly racked his brain for answers. He understood being weary and maybe even a little spooked, but running away? Isn't that...a little too much? An overreaction even? Had he left that much of a sore taste in her mouth?
He cursed himself for showing so much interest in a girl that had none whatsoever in him. He didn't even know why he wanted her so much. Yes—despite the ban, despite the drama—he still wanted her in his life. He'd rather that, than let her go for good and never see her again. Pathetic, huh? He had realized it in the few days that followed after she left. He would be too much of an idiot not to recognize his own feelings. He found himself wanting to see her, wanting to talk to her—even if it meant that he would be going against the rules of his own kingdom. Maybe it's because he had grown up under martinets and straitlaced circumstances. For a vast majority of his life, he was only allowed to do certain things, listen to this, listen to that, follow XYZ, and abide by ABC. Being the only heir to the kingdom, his parents, the butlers, the training sergeants, and even the cooks had a say in everything he did, to make sure that his upbringing was "perfect," lacked nothing, and had no defects to point fingers at. It didn't necessarily mean that he grew up in a tyrannical environment; no, he enjoyed what he did, sure, but...there was always this sense of freedom that he missed out on and didn't get to savor. He felt privileged to be born into a family that lacked nothing, but he also felt just as...empty. Everybody bowed down to him, no one spoke to him rudely, no one raised their voice, and no one said no. They behaved like robots, for heaven's sake. He grew up and changed over the years, but they didn't.
And that's when Stella came into his life. Simply out of nowhere, literally nowhere. Compared to the opulent yet suffocating (not to mention boring) environment that he was used to, that girl was such a breath of fresh air to be around with. Even though she treated him like a run-of-the-mill terrorist on more than one occasion, he still found her presence intriguing and something to look forward to. She spoke her mind, didn't take anyone's shit, yelled at him—which, he had to admit, was both terrifying and thrilling at the same time—and even tried to challenge him. He could freely be himself with her; there weren't any expectations that he had to reach, let alone outdo. He didn't know how, why, or what, but he knew that what Stella showed him can't all be fake. There had to be at least something that was real. If her intentions were to ruin the wedding, then fraternizing and making out with him were the last things she should be doing. Right? At least, that's the reasoning he allowed his mind to play with for the last three months. He simply couldn't accept that he was nothing more than a dancing marionette to her. ...It just hurt too much to think that way.
And try as he might, he couldn't move on from her. Every time he attempted to, every time his parents "subtly" brought up other princesses in a conversation, he would find himself comparing all of them to Stella. Yeah, as hard as it is to believe, his parents really have tried to get on the matchmaking bandwagon again. And deservingly so, he mercilessly pushed them off of it. He didn't know how they thought he could ever be ready for something like that so soon. He had already turned into a laughing spectacle once; he wasn't too keen on letting it happen again. But despite that, despite the fact that she was inadvertently the one behind it all, he still couldn't find it in himself to let her go. He simply...couldn't move on. But his parents did. The court did. The people did. They threw her out faster than one can even say no. They didn't give that girl any more thought. The case was closed, so she wasn't attention-worthy anymore. They discarded her like she was a thing, a tabloid that was apparently only good enough to shit about. And that, alone, that made his blood boil. She wasn't a fucking toy. She wasn't some blingy source of entertainment. She wasn't some page in a book that they could easily turn and forget about. She wasn't any of the things they made her out to be. She was far from all of it, actually, something that even he was able to realize in full understanding only after she left. But by that point...it was already too late. The damage was done. And she was gone.
…
He sighed, continuing his walk onto a practical nowhere. What had he come to, really? How could he be reduced to his wits' end in such a short amount of time?
He was momentarily dragged out of his bittersweet trance when his pants started to vibrate. A little annoyed at being interrupted from his me-time, he fished out his phone and saw that it was his father. "Yeah?" he quickly answered, in a hurry to get this over with.
"Son? Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Why, what's up?" he asked, bored.
"You've been gone for over an hour."
Brandon froze, his eyes widening. What? He quickly checked his watch in disbelief. Has it really been an hour? Has he been that spaced off? He didn't feel any of those minutes tick by; in fact, it felt like just seconds ago that he escaped the palace for quietude. "Uh, yeah, I'm just washing off a spill," he quickly choked down his surprise and answered, lying effortlessly through his teeth.
"Alright, well, hurry back soon. There's someone I want you to meet!"
Yeah, sure. Whatever. There was always someone his father wanted him to meet. The brunet simply hummed in agreement anyway to avoid any further debates even though he had no intentions to head on back any time soon. He quickly hung up, tucking his phone back in safely, before resuming his nightly stroll. Has it really been an hour though? He quietly mused to himself, shaking his head in incredulity. Time really does fly when you don't notice it.
Brandon suddenly paused, his slow strides coming to a complete stop as his head tilted towards a rather odd sight in the distance, something that stuck out like a sore thumb among the greens of the trees and browns of the earth.
...It was a dash of yellow—and not just any yellow. It was a beautiful, bright hue that mimicked the essence of summer, a shade that he was all too familiar with and something that he had not seen on anything or anyone else but...
"...Stella?" he whispered in pure surprise, seeing the blonde tufts of hair from the girl sitting against a tree not so far away with her knees loosely pulled up. What the hell? He found himself slowly turning the other way, staring back at the castle. Didn't she JUST blow him off and go inside? He saw her going in there, didn't he? The opposite way? How did she get out here so fast then? How did he not see her on his way out—of course, he answered his own question swiftly, recalling her gifted ability. She can teleport.
Like...duh.
Okay. Still. Why would she be here though? In front of him, too, of all places? That would be too much of a coincidence, would it not?
Or maybe not, he grumpily rolled his eyes. After all, he had been wandering around here for at least an hour, too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice anything else.
He blinked in dubiety, standing there silently for a long time and confused on what to do next. For starters...is he even seeing things correctly? Is it really her?
…
Bruh...if this is a hallucination, it's growing progressively unamusing, thank you very much.
A solid minute passed. Two, then three, then four. And pretty soon, he found himself walking towards her, stupefied. He didn't know why he wanted to go there though. Other than wanting to check that she wasn't a mirage, a figment of his imagination, what use is it to go after her again? Seeing him, she'll probably accuse him of stalking her—a very likely event, given her temper—and maybe even teleport to another mile or the other end of the castle.
He stopped short of many meters from her, treading softly, not wanting to alert her. Observing her closely, he saw that her eyes were blissfully closed. And most importantly...she was out of her fancy attire, opting for a casual outfit instead, with light jeans shorts and a tucked-in, full-sleeved, plain white shirt. Despite the not-so-special outfit, she still looked stunning as ever, just as radiant, just as classy. It even felt a little new to see her in normal, daily wear since he was used to seeing her often in palace-professional/modest attire. (Seeing her in photos doesn't really count.)
His eyes began to soften, however, when he realized that...maybe they weren't both so different today. That could be the only explanation for why she's here. She, too, like him, didn't forget what happened nor was she able to put it behind her. As penitent as he was for that, he had to admit that it felt just as good to know that he wasn't some faded, distant memory buried in her past.
"I thought you of all people would know how to sneak up on people."
His limbs instantly entrenched into the ground beneath him, his veins chilling into ice at the words that suddenly left from her lips. Clearly caught off-guard, he gawked at her in total disbelief, wondering how she could've picked up his trail. To his surprise, her eyes were still closed, and she was still sitting in that relaxed pose; hell, if it weren't for the fact that she just talked—to him, of all people!—he would've guessed that she was sleeping. How did she know? He thought, puzzled. And if she knew…why did she stick around? Why didn't she leave like earlier?
...Then he realized that this was Stella, someone who was just impeccable at surprising people. The brunet relaxed and even bit back a smile. Clever as ever, he thought, impressed, nonetheless. "I wasn't trying to," he finally answered, truthfully, before hesitantly moving closer to her, no longer finding a reason to stay so far away.
When he was only feet away from her, her eyes opened, enslaving him at once even though she didn't directly glance at him. She didn't flinch or move away either, which he supposed was a good sign.
"Do you mind if I sit?" he asked, pointing to the empty space beside her.
Without any ruckus, music, or noise playing in the background, hearing his warm, rich, cocoa-smooth voice, just his voice, from this close sent electricity shooting up and down her spine. The inflection of it was still as she remembered: warm, soft, cozy, and perfect. She nearly forgot what his question was until she noticed him standing there stupidly and staring at her. She eyed the spot beside her with reluctance. Your suit will get dirty, she felt inclined to bark back…until she didn't; she kept mum and held her tongue at the last second. If she said that...would he leave? The thought alone made her heart ache. His presence was both comforting and discomforting; she wanted him to stay yet leave at the same time.
Escaping from the palace long ago, the last thing she expected to see was him wandering around, too, like her. She was initially going to make a break for it and go elsewhere to wallow in her own bubble of self-pity, but...the fact that there were no cameras, prying eyes, or eavesdropping ears here made her halt. This place was a practical nowhere anyway. Cities aren't typically built around castles; it wouldn't be safe in the case a battle had to take place, since evacuation would be too difficult. So, technically, everything around them was a perfect, stay-out-of-the-limelight-for-more-than-two-seconds hiding ground. There's no one around to snoop on her. There's no one around to tattletale. And there's no one around to sneak pictures of her. So...what exactly was preventing her from staying a liiiiiittttle longer, hmm? Just a little. No harm ever came from that. After all, what no one knows can't hurt them. And even if, by a long shot, they knew, she can easily say that she wasn't doing anything wrong. After all, Bloom and Layla did say that it's only a crime to visit the kingdom; they said nothing about not being able to fraternize with one of its very attractive citizens.
And that's how she came to be in this moment, right here and right now. She had found herself a tree to sit under and rest when she spotted him in the distance long ago. It was just her luck that he happened to see her, too, and join her. Maybe she'll even let herself catch up with him (sort of), enjoy his company for a tidbit without letting him get a whiff of her charade, and then kick him to the curb to keep up the reputation. Maybe that's taking things too far and even a little heartless, but…when did she ever claim to be a saint? She was seeing him for the first time in months. One half-assed minute with the guy was nowhere near enough to satisfy her inner girlhood.
Tempted and convinced by her own argument, she simply looked away, not bothering to give him an answer.
Figuring that her silence is as much of an answer as he'll get, Brandon sighed and resisted the urge to shake his head. Difficult as ever. The fact that she didn't outright say no made him sit down beside her. Take what he got, he guessed.
As he gently slumped down next to her, Stella instantly felt the heat of his body kiss hers, and she had to do everything in her power to not turn ripe and red right there. She had a reputation to uphold, for heaven's sake; she would never live it down if he somehow got the hint that she didn't really hate him. Easier said than done though, she grumbled in silence. How exactly was she supposed to ignore him and pretend that he didn't affect her when in reality, he did? Just look at him. He was so close to her; she could practically touch and molest his knee, she could wrap her arms around the torso that she knew hid perfectly-chiseled six-pack abs underneath, and she could grab that sweet collar and do ten levels of inappropriate to him. He was that close, just inches away, and she didn't realize how deprived, cold, and wanton her body had gotten until she felt her skin tingle and nerves ache all over. Confused and ashamed of her own line of thinking, Stella simply looked away in an attempt to calm her racing nerves. Honestly, she didn't know how he couldn't see them. No man ever made her feel this way, not that she wanted anyone else to. To all the social circles that "knew" and knew her, she had quite a promiscuous reputation to uphold; she was known for being voluptuously flirty and licentious when in reality, she never held anyone in such high regard; she never trusted anyone to the point that she felt compelled to gift her body and soul away, though all of those fell into question when this handsome dork came trotting along, uninvited.
...Jerk.
"...How have you been?" his gentle voice suddenly called out to her, dragging her back to reality.
The baritone of his tone made her bones shiver. She tried to remain as stoic as possible while cursing her clear lack of restraint around him and the fact that she had to restrain herself from being so open with him. What other choice did she have? She didn't want to do this, but there was a certain line that she had to draw between them. He can't know what she felt for him. Not now, not in a million years. "What are you doing here?" she retorted back quietly, her tone somehow not as acrid as she trusted it to be.
Not in a talking mood, I see, he briefly glanced at her before staring straight ahead. Oh, well. At least she used words instead of flying fireballs. "Here as in here or Domino in general?"
…
Would it be bad if she said both? Actually, she just wanted to know if his visit to Domino was a coincidence or intentional. If he was here for the party or by a long shot...for her. "...Here," she swallowed, coaxing her mouth to answer the converse instead.
Her answer surprised him. He expected—hoped—the opposite though. "It doesn't hurt to say hi to someone you know," he shrugged anyway.
She remained hushed. …That's it? That was all? Was that a compliment? Was she just someone he knew? Wasn't she much more than that? Wasn't she someone he even...hated? Someone he no longer trusted? She had been a complete thorn by his side. Wasn't he mad at her for at least that? In fact, why was he talking to her anyway and going as far as saying "hi"? "Even if that someone doesn't want to say it back?" she returned the question.
He couldn't help but bite back a smile. See? He knew it. She was still just as rude, just as ill-tempered. But he didn't let that get to his head though; after all, he was used to harsher outbursts. "...You haven't changed," he complimented. He was almost glad that she didn't. It made him feel a sense of normalcy around her.
She didn't say anything for a while, until her breath hitched at those words. ...Now what was that supposed to mean? Was he hoping that she would? She glanced at him from her periphery, almost a little...offended. Should she be offended? She stared, wondering if he had indeed been hoping that she would change. Well. Too bad. The stubborn bitch inside of her isn't going anywhere. "Yeah, well, not all of us are people pleasers," she rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest.
Brandon turned to her, surprised at the unexpected abrasiveness of her tone. When he saw that she looked totally pissed off, he realized that she took his words and warped them around in the wrong way. Typical. God, her short temper will be the death of him one day. "Are you always this rude?" he asked with interest, genuinely wanting to know if this special offer was reserved just for him or everyone else too.
Stella's jaw tensed. There it was again. Judgment. Great. Now His Highness was judging her too, disregarding her feelings as nothing more than an overreaction. Ugh, this was a mistake, her conscious growled. Her hands gritted into fists, her knuckles turning white. How dare he come here and assume shit about her again? What gives him the right to judge? He didn't even know what she had to go through just to be "normal" again, yet he has the gall to point fingers. His presumptuous audacity made her patience run out as quickly as water would evaporate in a scorching-hot desert, and she no longer wanted to be in his presence. Every time she'd think that it was okay to maybe let her guard around him, even if it's just for a second, she ends up building walls that are twice as thick.
Finally having the courage to look him directly in the eye without melting into mush, her glare softened into a smile that he, right off the bat, knew had to be fake. "No. Just to strangers," she sweetly told him before the sardonic grin left her as well and she was back to rolling her eyes at him again.
Brandon took a deep breath, trying to not let her attitude get to him personally. "So I'm a stranger now?" he warily questioned, raising a brow.
Her brows pinching into an irritated glare, she was quick to bite back this time. "You're not a friend," she condemned firmly.
His face fell silent, his disbelief off the charts at the unwavering, heated conviction in those hazel eyes. He didn't know why that stung, but it did. Her words were so cold, so ruthless. Does she hate me that much…? He thought, crestfallen, as she picked herself up and started to leave again. "...Then what am I to you?" He had to stop her one more time—one last time—to ask, even if he feared her answer all the same.
Stella paused mid-stride, her feet skidding to a temporary stop. Her eyes, stunned at how soft and quiet his voice had suddenly gotten, snuck a glimpse over her shoulder, only to see him still seated on the dingy floor, remaining unmoving. What perplexed her the most was his eyes though. The way they've become so hooded and dark, almost as if...as if there was pain in them, it scared her. She blinked, startled. What—no. Why would he be hurt? I should be the one upset, not him, she bit her lower lip in confusion, in an attempt to convince herself that what she was seeing has to be nothing more than an apparition, a clear result of her imagination going overboard. "Someone I shouldn't be talking to," she bluntly replied.
Finding him tight-lipped to her answer, she knew she had made her point.
Having had the final say, without another word, without gifting him a second glance, the blonde simply turned on her heel to leave. And for some reason...she had a feeling that he won't follow her this time. At least for tonight and hopefully ever. Good.
…
He only raised his bowed head when her retreating figure had gone far enough. Watching her simply stroll away...an immense part of him was grateful that she did. The silence that now greeted his ears almost felt sacred, compared to the cruel blow she had given him barely seconds ago.
Is it really so beyond her to at least be CIVIL? Is that too much to ask, too much to hope? Like her, he's on the good side too. He didn't understand if she point-blank refused to see it or if she's intentionally blinding herself to believe the wrong things. Hell, her eyes still held the same amount of fury as they did from the last he saw her. All those sweet smiles at the party, all that hype—how could any of it be true when she still, STILL had so much of anger inside of her? How could she enjoy herself on one hand and hate him on another? Is that—is that even possible? He didn't think it was. Not for him anyway. In all these months, there hasn't been a single day where he slept to his content because he had been too wrapped up in a blanket of guilt to pay heed to anything else. He tried to rationalize his actions using just about any and all reasons, but it had been of no use, because at the end of the day...he knew that the more he had to justify them, the bigger his mistakes actually were. On top of it, there was no way for him to even repent. He couldn't call her. He couldn't text. He couldn't go to her and apologize. He couldn't make amends. He couldn't do anything. She was just so far away and so off the grid, that even if she weren't, he anyway knew she wouldn't have given him the time of day. At one point...after enduring weeks of silence from her, he had even entertained a hunch that she might actually be...no more, he shuddered, or that she might've succumbed to her injuries. Maybe that was a little extra, but how would he not contemplate that? She didn't even let herself heal completely when she left. She woke up and bolted out of bed, like all she had to recover from was a simple fever. It took him days to swallow down that premonition and convince himself that she was okay, that she's gotta be okay.
All he wanted to do now was…own up to his doings. Nothing less. Plain and simple. But she somehow wasn't too keen on letting him do that either. She wasn't letting him apologize. She wasn't letting him vent. She wasn't letting him move on. She wasn't even letting him speak. If anything, she was dragging him back to the day she left and forcing him to just stay there.
Whether she believed it or not, for him, even after all this time, the cuts were still just as deep. The gnawing ache he felt on that day—on the day she left—was still just as raw, just as coarse.
He folded his arms across his knees, swallowing. Absentmindedly, his fingers gently brushed against his right sleeve, softly stroking the area of the fabric that hid a long tissue scar underneath. Unlike her, he didn't exactly have the luxury of making it disappear. He had to sit through numerous dressings, sore muscles, stitches, and sympathetic gazes. Of course, his body wasn't exactly new or immune to heavy burns or injuries, but this was one that he absolutely hated to have. Loathed, even. Every time he saw it in the mirror, it would remind him of the excruciating resilience and tearful agony that she endured at his home. It reminded him that her scars were probably twice as long, twice as deep. Most importantly, it reminded him of the guilt he hasn't yet atoned for, that she probably wouldn't have had to go through anything if he had somehow taken the measures to protect her properly instead of driving her away. A place that was supposed to be warm and welcoming had instead turned into her personal, demonic hell.
His body stiffening into an effigy, he sat there with the grace of concrete, until his phone started to vibrate again. He wasn't as annoyed as he probably would've been a few minutes ago though. At least for tonight, he didn't have in him to glare or raise any more tempered brows. Without bothering to check the caller ID, he lifted the call and placed the device against the shell of his ear. "Yeah, Dad?" he monotonously answered, knowingly.
"Brandon?" Lucas's obvious concerned voice patched through. "Are you coming? You've been gone for a long time now," he observed. "Where even are you? Is everything alright?"
For a moment, Brandon remained silent at the unsuspecting interrogation. No, everything is NOT "alright," his clouded eyes tried to bellow. "Yeah…um. I'm just a little tired," he answered in a low, dejected tone. "In fact, I'm actually about to turn in early and head to the rooms. I'll see you guys tomorrow."
A gentle pause ensued. "What? Why? Are you sure that you're okay?"
"Yeah, just sleepy," he answered. He strained a tight smile into his voice, for the sake of persuasion.
Another pause. "Alright, then. I'll see you later, I guess."
"Enjoy the party," the brunet wished flatly before mumbling a quick bye and then hanging up. He tucked his phone back in, relieved that he won't be receiving any more calls tonight. He didn't know if his father believed him, but at this point, he didn't really care.
…
He turned his head towards the palace, which still roared with celebrations. One look at him and any moron would be able to guess that he was in no mood to celebrate. Yet, those glistening lights showed no signs of dying out any time soon, almost as if even they mocked and laughed at him, in his face. Terrific.
Still…he can't give up. Despite the blow to his heart, she wasn't someone that he was willing to walk away from. Not again—never again—without an explanation. Now if only she could understand that—if only he could make her understand that—then maybe this trip wouldn't feel so worthless and depressing.
Her feet pounding across the land, Stella walked in a grueling pace, too upset to slow down. Even though the night air was irrefutably chilled, she felt her skin heating up and heart throbbing inside of her chest.
Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. How come, even after months, nothing has changed?! One would think that it would! She let out an annoyed "pfft." He was still taunting her with phantastic and ridiculous accusations. Sure, he was tall, handsome, and probably had a million girls trailing after him, but he was dead wrong if he thought his pretty face was going to get him out of this. Now that she really thought about it, she didn't particularly understand how he could be so calm and rational around her. Even if her insides had curled in delight at the close proximity between them—not that she was proud of it, but whatever—she didn't understand what made him think she was approachable to him.
And what about her? The more she thought about him, the deeper she actually fell, despite the hurt he put her through. Stella sighed, closing her eyes in vain. How could she hate and love the guy at the same time? She was the abused one here. Yet, she took every opportunity to side with the enemy, leaving herself bereft of any protection. For once, she just wanted him to feel what she felt. She wanted him to swallow at least a little bit of the same poison he had fed her. The fear, the anxiety, and maybe even a little bit of the nightmares she still has to this day. Maybe then, just maybe, it'll teach him not to quantify her anger and bitterness to something equivalent to a child's tantrum. Or maybe it won't. Maybe it won't change a thing. But at least some of the resentment against him will ebb.
A long while later, Stella returned to the palace. Her anger had somewhat taken a bench, but the sadness was still there, clinging to her like a second skin and refusing to leave. She rolled her eyes at the spiteful music that greeted her ears. The party was still at its apex, and she can't believe she had another week of this nightmare. Inconsequent polite conversations, couture, and wine. Add in an ex-fiancé to that, and what do you get? A disaster waiting to happen.
Stella frowned as she walked down the hallway towards her room. As guilty as she felt for being a sour pickle at her close friend's big event, she couldn't help it.
Being in public with Brandon was simply far too dangerous. She didn't want to be involved in any rumors with him. She had seen what Audelia's prime media channels had said about her. They've convoluted the truth to something far beyond unrecognizable and practically painted her as a desperate whore who'd do anything to confuse, manipulate, and get her hands on their "innocent prince." God, they've decorated Brandon like he was a little child, capable of doing no wrong. Pfft, what a joke. Was it only she who knew how vicious and brutal he could actually get? He was a master of warrior arts. She had seen him slice through humans like they were made of butter, yet she was somehow the witch and villain here. Hmmph.
Shaking her head, Stella halted before her room, taking her sweet time to unlock it.
Oh, well. At least she can take pride in the fact that even after seeing him in so long, she didn't run to him like a car with no brakes and make a total fool of herself.
Heading inside, Stella moved to close the door behind her when she suddenly gasped, jumping at seeing Bloom seated on the edge of the bed. What the heck? What was she doing here? Wasn't she down there with the others? "Bloom?" Stella blinked. "What are you doing here? I thought you were at the party."
"…I was."
Bemused at how suddenly quiet Bloom's voice had gotten, Stella's brows furrowed. Coming to think of it, the redhead also looked really serious, a look of hurt even flashing across her face and further worrying Stella. Why, what happened now? The blonde pondered curiously. Did Bloom and Sky get into a fight? Nah, too unlikely. The pair had just met after months; they'd more likely be looking for a chance to get frisky, not argue. Hmm. Maybe it's their parents then? Those guys are always fighting over the pettiest things. But they wouldn't do that in the middle of a hundred people, the blonde deduced reasonably. Or…what if…what if the media had gotten a load of…Brandon and me? Stella finished with a look of horror crossing her face as she suddenly paled, her skin turning as frigid as snow and her body igniting at once with an unpleasantly cold electricity shooting up and down her spine. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?" she questioned in obvious apprehension, barely managing to hide the stutter out of her voice.
Bloom simply stared at her, half out of disbelief and half out of numbness. Was this girl intentionally playing dumb? "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" the redhead barked, her voice taking on a far snippier tone as she pointed to a certain something on the floor.
Stella followed the finger in confusion before she suddenly froze, understanding dawning on her. She breathed out an inaudible sigh of relief, grateful that she had gotten worked up over nothing. Thank the Great Dragon, she shut her eyes for a long moment before opening them again.
The dress she had worn earlier was laying on the floor, showing off clear signs of abuse and distress. She cursed herself at her own stupidity. In her hurry to take a walk and get outta here, she clearly forgot to stow it away. Shit. She didn't know which was worse: a nosy journalist or a pissed-off Bloom. "Bloom, I swear, it's not—" Stella started off.
"—what it looks like?" Bloom cut her off, finishing the sentence with a sweet, sarcastic smile. "Yeah, I figured."
Stella sighed, her shoulders slumping. Great. As if she didn't have enough to worry about already. "Bloom, I—" the blonde tried to get through to her, but the latter wasn't having it.
"I came to check on you, to see if you're feeling better," Bloom explained quietly but seriously, folding her arms across her chest, "but instead, I find this," the redhead scowled, picking up the poor dress. "Where did you even go?" she drilled. "And what are you doing in those?" she pointed to the casual wear.
Stella bit her lip, unable to answer either of those questions. What would she say? That she just had a private moment with someone she's forbidden to even look at? "I just—I went for a walk," the blonde answered lamely. "And, obviously, I wasn't gonna do that in a dress," Stella cracked a nervous grin in an attempt to keep the attention away from herself.
Bloom simply looked at her. She didn't find that humorous. "Is that really what you think I'm asking you?" she scowled sternly. She was far more interested in why Stella went for a "walk."
"Okay, that—" the blonde paused, taking a moment to pettily point at the cruel dress that was hell-bent on ruining the rest of her night, "—really isn't what it looks like. I really went for a walk to clear my head, and I ended up leaving in a hurry!"
Bloom simply stared at her wordlessly, the cynicism on her face continuing to remain as clear as day.
"Look, Bloom, I needed help to remove the dress," Stella sighed, exasperated at the suspicious glare being sent her way, "but there was no one around to help," she whined, hoping that's enough to convince this girl. "It was an accident, okay?" she explained. "And look, even my makeup's still intact," she showed off her dolled-up face and styled hair. Granted they look a little extra for a tee and shorts, but the perfection that was still there behind them should be signs enough that she hadn't cried. Heck, she had been a lot of things tonight—shocked, angry, sad, disappointed, then frustrated—but proudly, crying hadn't been one of them. Atta girl, she smirked, mentally patting herself on the shoulder.
Bloom looked on without saying a word. She knew Stella far too well to know that the blonde would never confess to having cried, even if she did. Stella always liked to be on this pedestal; she liked showing off that she was invincible and strong, that nothing can touch, affect, or break her, but little did anyone know that beneath the tough-as-a-nail persona she put on, there was also a scared, vulnerable side to her. She loathed showing that side of her as she believed that people would see it as a weakness and, in turn, exploit and use it against her to hurt her. But Bloom wasn't one of those people. She would never hurt her own sister, and Bloom had known her for far too long to not see through this act, though she wasn't stupid enough to call her out on it. She didn't come here to fight. She didn't come here to prove who was right or wrong; in fact, she hoped that she was wrong. She just needed Stella to acknowledge whatever she's feeling; that the blonde doesn't have to hide behind a mask. Not with her, at least. The redhead repressed a gloomy sigh. She didn't want to push Stella too far, but she also couldn't let such behaviors continue. "...Okay," Bloom finally relented, in defeat. "…For your own sake," she started off quietly, coming closer and dropping the battered designer gown into the blonde's hands, "I hope you're right." With one last silent look, Bloom left the room without turning back.
Stella watched Bloom leave in clear disappointment. The blonde stared at the lifeless dress, which was miserably filled with tattered threads, for only a moment longer before dropping it and letting it pool around her feet. She sighed, though the released tension left her melancholic rather than relieved. That's the second fight tonight. With Bloom. And it was getting exhausting.
Stella took off her shoes before hopelessly dragging her way over to the bed and plopping herself in the middle of it. Laying back, she sighed to herself. Coming here…was such a mistake. Such a bad idea and such a waste of time. Honestly…why did she even…why did she board that ship? To do what, exactly? Cower? Lie? She should've cooked up a lame excuse—which wouldn't have been too hard for her—and glued her butt back in Solaria. How will she look her friends in the eye from tomorrow? In fact, she can already imagine them preparing a long, drawn-out monologue for her. How will she convince them that she's okay? How will she convince Bloom that she was okay? As a matter of fact, Bloom had never spoken to her that way. She looked so tired and so...let down. And Stella thought she would never say this, but Bloom's silence was honestly far scarier than her anger would've been.
…
Stella bit her lip. She should've never let Bloom talk sense into her on Solaria. Instead, she should've faked sickness, food poisoning, or something—ANYTHING—to get out of this whole thing. All she's been doing now is being a major party pooper. Sure, she had fun over the last one or two days and she was happy to see her friends again, but that joy was long gone. Her current mood overshadowed any changes she'd been trying to make to move on, almost as if she never made them in the first place. She thought that a new environment would be a fresh change for her, but all it's done was undo her. Even if tears refused to leave her eyes, even if screams didn't escape past her trembling lips, they still made her bitter and unforgiving against the pain that had taken its time to crush her. She can't forget that—or maybe she just chose not to—especially now that…Brandon is back, she frowned deeply. Or maybe that's the wrong word to use since she was the one who left in the first place, not him. But during their time apart—as guilty as she was to admit it—she had thought about him every day. Even though he was just a dream—a fantasy—he was still the first guy that she connected with, that she had been genuinely interested in getting to know, and that too for something past good looks and a killer body. She proved that by letting her guard down around him for far too many times, and that's probably why a large part of her was still hurt by what he did to her, even if she missed him just the same. Weird, huh? And pretty lonely too. All of her best friends were either engaged or going to be engaged. They've all been dating their respective partners for years now. Tying the knot is literally the next step and everyone knows that it's bound to happen, whether it's today or five years from now. They all have their love lives planned out, but her? She couldn't even snag herself a decent date, let alone a long-lasting boyfriend. She had bragged all her life that she didn't need guys to live her life—in fact, they needed her—but things kinda get put into perspective when you meet that one guy who will come along and shake your world without even trying. Brandon reminded her that…she didn't exactly want to grow old alone. She wanted a partner. A confidant. Someone she didn't just have to "hook up" with and forget about the next day. Someone who was worth more than a token number among all the guys she flirted with today. Someone who was special. Someone she can trust. Someone she can just…be herself with.
…And she found him. Someone to run home to, someone who loved adventure like her, someone who was just as stubborn, someone who was determined, someone who was…Brandon. She found him in the freakiest, craziest way. But now that he's here, now that he's actually here, right in front of her, she ran. fucking ran, leaving not only a harsh string of insults behind but also her heart. Even though it didn't seem that way, even though she had just been a total bitch to him, saying all those things still broke her heart in too many ways, despite him deserving every ounce of her side of anger. They say that pain dulls with time and that things will get better, but it wasn't true. Not in her case, at least. It's only after seeing him that she was reminded of how much he meant to her, how she never let him leave from her heart in the first place. She couldn't even look at another man without wanting to compare all those guys with him, despite knowing that they'll never match to his standards. He was that perfect to her, and she wanted to wish for nothing but to go back to the time when they were still together. Is he…is he even someone she could refer to as her ex? The word alone made her want to choke. This was her shortest relationship yet—barely lasting three days—and coming from her, that's actually saying something.
And worse, she didn't even have any texts or pictures to reminisce on—well, maybe except for the photo of him and her kissing in the gardens, but even that wasn't the real her!
Hot and bothered, Stella turned to the side, seizing a pillow captive and clutching it tightly to her chest.
She didn't know whether Brandon moved on or not, but the mere thought of another girl draping her raunchy claws on him made her sick to the stomach. What if…what if he really did move on? What if he was engaged again and had another fiancée that he was singing praises to, like he did to her?
Stella blinked back hurt and denial, curling her knees to her chest.
Then why did he allow her to get to know him if he was gonna move on that quickly? She knew so much about him already and remembered just as much. His voice still sounds the same. He even smelled the same. Is it weird that she knew that though? His scent was unique. It's like a mixture of newly cut timber, pine, and tree bark, like how a forest would give off that heavenly earthy aroma after spending a night in a storm. Exciting, exotic, and intoxicating.
Silent tears filled her eyes at how she still vividly remembered that.
…She missed him so much. She missed his voice. She missed his bear hugs. She missed his touch. She missed him smiling at her in a way that would make her toes squeal with delight. She missed him making her blush—and Stella of Solaria never blushed. She just missed him overall. He made her feel…wanted. As a person. He treated her with respect. He treated her parents and friends with respect, instead of blatantly ignoring them like she knew some arranged fiancés would. He killed for her—in the literal sense. Most importantly, he tolerated her. He showed so much patience with her, even when she blew up on him and threw tantrums all the way.
What more could a girl honestly wish for?
She wanted to love him with all her heart yet move on. She wanted to wait for him even though she knew their roads would never converge. She wanted to stand by his side and never leave even though they belonged in two different pictures.
Face it, Stell, she sadly reminded herself, you can't be with him. For too many reasons to count.
And that thought alone made her want to almost…cry. "…I'm sorry, Brandon," she sniffled, her voice dying out in a soft, small whisper as she said his name out loud for the first time in months. Being so close to him again forced her bottled feelings to resurface and stay ajar. She knew she'd oppress them again somehow before tomorrow, but that was tomorrow. For tonight…she remained wide-awake, taunting herself with his memories, sinking deeper into the mattress, until sleep eventually came to put her weary mind to an uneasy rest.
The following morning…
~ 6:30 AM ~
Oh, man. Something's going to happen today. Surely. The sun barely woke up, but a certain princess of Solaria was already up and awake and busy causing havoc in her room. The blonde, who would normally be dozing at this time of day and be very cranky if someone dared to interrupt from her beauty sleep, was now oddly hyperactive and running laps around the room to make her bed, open the windows, and get dressed for the day. Despite the early morning, the noises and heavy traffic in her room were that of a day in full swing. She had been up and ready in only a fraction of the time it usually takes, which is so un-Stella of her. She hadn't had much sleep last night either, though she felt as if she did. But there was a reason for that. She had certain things—important things—to do today, hence the mayhem.
First things first though. See if she had screwed anything up. That would be so Stella of her if she had.
Throwing herself into the middle of her bed, Stella grabbed her laptop and powered it on, impatiently blowing a few strands out of her face as she waited for it to boot. When it eventually did, the blonde was too quick to open the net. She had, after all, gotten a little too carried away yesterday, and she needed to know if there had been any unintended repercussions.
Eagerly scanning for the latest news of Solaria, her eyes skimmed over the headlines.
"EXCLUSIVE: First Ever OFFICIAL Appearance of Princess Stella in MONTHS!" [9h ago]
"Princess Stella No Longer MIA!" [10h ago]
"The Winx are Back!" [10h ago]
"Welcome Back, Princess Stella!" [11h ago]
"Back When It All Began: The Friendship of Radius, Oritel, and Teredor" [11h ago]
"Solaria Congratulates Domino's Newest Heiress!" [12h ago]
"Domino Welcomes Solaria with Open Arms!" [12h ago]
Finding only such similar "exclusive" and "breaking" content and not any actual incriminating articles, Stella's heart started to rock in peace again, her stance visibly relaxing. Thank. GOD.
She shifted her attention to something else entirely and opted to check her emails instead. And sure enough, a flood of them had already filled her inbox, waiting to be opened and answered to. She shook her head, mildly amused. Ahhh, the joys of being a celebrity…
There were emails from a couple of managers, from major cosmetic and clothing brands, from the host of Miss Solaria, from Nova—
Nova! Stella's eyes filled with enthusiasm when she saw an email from her longtime contact, someone she considered more to be a younger sister than anything else.
Hey, Stella! It's so good to see you again! Even if it's in pictures, LOL. Hope you're having fun at Domino! Tell Daphne I said hi and congrats! Lotsa love! XOXO
- Nova
Stella smiled fondly at the sweet message before typing out a quick reply and moving onto the next one.
This one was from Nadine Silke, a fellow colleague of hers and a well-known name in the glamour industry.
Stelllaaaaaa! I can't believe it! You wore my gown! You looked so fabulous! Thank you! Honestly, I've had clients pouring in and making calls all night! It was a huge hit! I can't believe this, thank you! I owe you one!
- The one & only — N.S.
Stella chuckled at the hyperactive happiness. But soon, embarrassment washed over her face as she remembered the dress's now damaged condition. Erm...Oops. Maybe magic could fix it, but it'll never be as good as the "real" deal, you know? Oh, well. What she doesn't know can't hurt, I guess, Stella shrugged sheepishly. The blonde quickly replied to her friend and showered back a few compliments about how she truly loved wearing the dress—which she really did—before heading onto the next email.
Dear Princess Stella,
It warms my heart to see you out once again. I hope you are well, and I trust that you are in good health.
It is my understanding that you have suspended public appearances until further notice.
However, if it's of no trouble for you, it would be an honor to have you once again appear as one of the prime judges for the annual Miss Solaria contest. We anticipate the start of a great season and to see great talent this year, and we would be delighted to see you be an integral part of that journey.
I await to hear from you soon.
Yours truly,
Flynn
Stella fell silent, her eyes softening immensely. Aside from the Winx, she had made so many good friends throughout her endorsements and career in the fashion industry. She didn't make a name out of her royal standing. Not completely, anyway. Of course, she, by default, had certain privileges of being born into a higher societal class—which had indeed helped her enter the glamour world in the first place—but the name she made for herself was purely due to her merit and no one else's. And honestly, she loved doing that more than she loved being a princess and dressing up for meaningless occasions, a.k.a the breakfast "gown" she was wearing right now. Being a princess just guaranteed a good bed and great food but being a career-oriented woman? That was a whole nother world. She garnered respect and admiration from many and, in turn, was just as humbled to have worked with so many remarkable talents and grounded people. Of course, the fashion and entertainment industries are rarely ever humble or grounded, but she was lucky enough to meet the very few that are.
…Should she go about that route again? Should she…head back? She was happier there anyway, wasn't she?
Stella unsurely bit her lip, heading back to the inbox again without replying. She saw similar emails from many others, many of whom beckoned her to come back.
Stella folded her arms, thinking cautiously to herself. Maybe heading back to work would give her a good distraction. As long as her parents reigned, there would be nothing for her to do at the palace anyway. And she wasn't really for one to sit through boring meetings for hours on end. That was more of Bloom's thing, who had a lot more patience than she did. Besides, as the younger child of Solaria, she'd never even get to rule her kingdom. When Bloom and Sky get married and ascend to the throne, they'll mostly likely be the ones jointly ruling both Eraklyon and Solaria. And she'll be somewhere far away, probably married to some bonehead who only cares about wealth and power, she finished with bitterness on her tongue.
Sighing softly, the blonde shook her head, gently closing the lid of her laptop and powering it to sleep. She needed time to process all this; this wasn't something that she can be so hasty about or decide at the snap of her fingers. If there was anything that the last few months have taught her, it's perspective. She didn't want to throw herself out there and be forced to repent it later, something she knew the old her wouldn't have given a hoot about. And besides, there was still plenty of time. She can make an unhurried decision when they all head back to Solaria again in a few days.
Checking the time, Stella saw that over an hour had passed and that it was almost eight, which meant that it was—
Time for breakfast! A giddy grin made its way to her face at the mention of food. Her skin brightened overall before paling a quick second later when she realized that she still had a lot of music to face. She groaned outwardly,pouting unhappily as she recalled last night's fiasco with Bloom. With her luck, Bloom probably already tattled on her to their parents, the Winx, and who-knows-who-else.
…
Ohh, this is gonna be such a long week, Stella begrudgingly got out of bed before smoothing out her knee-length, green wrap dress, the ruffle hemline and fluttery angel sleeves bouncing gently to her movements.
She took her phone and keys, slipped on matching emerald-green high heels, and then headed out the door, locking it on her way out. Bloom's room, aka Daphne's, wasn't that far from here, so Stella decided to head over there first. Bloom would usually be the one to come over and "pick her up," but…guess that's not happening today.
Many twists and turns later, Stella found herself uncomfortably knocking on Daphne's room. The knocks were quiet and rhythmic at first, before ceasing into silence altogether. She queasily shifted from one foot to the other, waiting patiently for either Bloom or Daphne—hopefully Daphne—to open up.
Letting out a soft sigh of relief when she soon heard the lock unfasten, Stella held her breath as the door slowly opened, revealing...Bloom.
...Greaattttt. Of course.
The redhead looked stunning and fiery as always, but today...she seemed slightly more intimidating than usual.
…
Out of the two, Bloom was the first to react. She raised an eyebrow at her unexpected guest before quickly turning away to grab the pair of pale-blue heels lying on the floor. She applied a few final finishing touches to her look and snatched a couple of necessities before emerging out of the room. In silence. No hi, no bye, no 'what's up'. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
…
Ugh, the tension is real. Stella opened her mouth to wish her an enthusiastic 'hi,' hoping that that will ease the things around here a little bit, but she was forced to hold her tongue in the last second when Bloom simply cast her a neutral, uninterested look and brushed past her.
…
...Well, jeez. Good morning to you too, Stella dryly looked on, wincing at the cannot-be-more-obvious cold shoulder. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. With a sigh, the blonde followed her anyway, clicking her heels faster and rapidly against the marble surface in order to catch up. "You're mad at me, aren't you?" she accused, calling after her.
Unsurprisingly, Bloom didn't respond; she just kept walking, increasing her pace.
Man, talk about a petty grudge. "Bloom," Stella futilely tried to get her attention. "Excuse m—helloo!"
But the redhead still didn't acknowledge. God, now why was she so relentlessly stubborn today?
"Bloom. Bl—Bloom—Bloom, wait. Stop. Seriously," Stella grabbed her arm, halting her in her tracks. "Talk to me. Please," she asked, concerned. She couldn't stand being ignored, so anything's gotta be better than this silent treatment.
Bloom scoffed, flinching as she shook her arm loose. "Yeah? Well, what do you think I've been trying to do all these months?" she harshly rebuked.
Stella gasped lowly, her lips parting in shock and eyes falling silent. Dang. Now that was cold. She didn't think Bloom would actually go that far, but now that she has...Stella honestly didn't know what else to say. "...I did say I was sorry for that..." she softly said, her shoulders slumping as she trailed off and let her guilt-ridden eyes do the rest of the talking.
Bloom softened slightly at the look of hurt that crossed Stella's face. Yeah, what she said was cold and harsh and wasn't fair, she knew that, but see what she had to deal with? She can't even scold her sister without feeling like a rotten jerk. "I—I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean to say that," she mumbled, testily rubbing her forehead. "But okay. Fine. Let's talk. Where did you really go last night?" she demanded.
"I told you. I went for a—"
"—a walk, yeah, I know," Bloom interrupted irritatedly. "I meant where. Where did you go on your 'walk'?"
Stella bit her lip, her face taking on the guilt of a culprit. Now how would she answer that? What's the nicest way to tell her sister that she was with Brandon? Oh, and the fact that the once-engaged couple had picked up from where they left off by having another fight in the middle of nowhere? "...I went to the stables," Stella bit her lip as she lied through her teeth.
The redhead's brows creased in bemusement, her face growing tense. "...Stables," she repeated, raising a skeptic brow.
"Yeah...it was pretty quiet over there," Stella blabbed lamely.
Bloom stared at her for the longest moment before starting to chuckle. Wow. She didn't know if she was supposed to find that funny or be offended that this girl was taking her to be a fool. "Are you kidding me, Stell? I mean, if you're gonna lie to me, at least make it believable,"she rolled her eyes in disbelief.
Stella sighed. Okay, she'll admit that it was probably the most pathetic and random answer ever, but it was the first one that came to her mind. It's not that easy cooking up excuses, you know! For real though, why can't Bloom just take her word for it and call it a day? God, the cynicism. This girl's pessimism was starting to make even the sincere pessimists out there look nice. "But I'm not!" the blonde protested, blatantly lying through her teeth. "Look, Bloom, I get it. You're worried. But I'm fine. Really," she tried to reassure. "That dress really was an accident. It's torn because I wasn't careful enough. It's on the floor because I leave my clothes on the floor. That's all there is to it. I wasn't upset at anyone, I wasn't having a tantrum or whatever, so it's just you blowing this all out of proportion," she finished defiantly, turning the tables over on the annoyingly persistent redhead.
Bloom listened quietly. Gosh, how she hoped that that was true. She hoped that it was indeed her who's blowing this out of proportion and being mad for no reason.
Seeing Bloom still linger with hesitation, Stella sighed before reaching down and gently taking her hand. "Look, Bloom, I know you mean well," she started. "And thank you for checking up on me. It was sweet of you, and I love you for it, I really do, but I'm fine," she softly said. "You're worried and being mad at me for nothing. And you said it yourself; that's not what we're here for. So...please?" she tried to coax the redhead to just drop it and let it go already. They've both been difficult and uneasy long enough.
Bloom bit her lip, still half convinced and half confused. For one, who could really blame her? Imagine this. Imagine...you just finished sharing laughs with your friends and then went up to your sister's room, only to find that it was just a spell or two away from being blown to smithereens. That's exactly how Bloom felt yesterday. She came to see a messy room and a missing sister; why would she not worry? How could she not worry? Had it been any other day, she probably would've given Stella the biggest eye roll she could muster and the longest lecture ever to keep things tidy. But given the blonde's state of mind recently...that wasn't exactly an option. Bloom knew that had anything happened to Stella yesterday, she would've never forgiven herself. Ever. She had been worried and scared out of her wits because of what she'd seen in that bedroom. It wasn't a pretty sight. It felt as if more than a tornado had gone through there. The gown was busy mopping the floor, the shoes were scattered around like rag dolls, the bed looked as if a hundred people jumped on it at once, the suitcase was wide open with all the clothes thrown about, and the floor had a million random designer stones rolling around on it.
...Was she really overreacting? Was she?
"...Fine," Bloom relented anyway, despite her inhibitions.
Stella blinked, somehow not expecting a "fine" any time soon. But whatever. She ain't complaining. "...Does that mean we're good now?" she furrowed her brows together, utterly confused.
Bloom pursed her lips in thought. Oooh, now that's a tricky question. "Uh...I'm not gonna go that far yet, but sure, I'll think about it if you stay tonight and the rest of the nights. With us," she stated. "Stay the whole time, and then I'll maybe believe that you're okay and not throwing a tantrum," she shrugged, her frown uplifting into a challenging smirk.
Stella's eyes widened. Excuse me? Uh-uh, no way. "Bloom—"
"No," Bloom held up her hand, cutting the blonde off. "Either you stay the entire time or I'm outta here."
"B-But that's not even fair," Stella stuttered. "All of you have dates and someone to talk to. I don't!"
"That's perfect then. There are plenty of hot guys around who are fortunately single and very lonely," Bloom commented, refusing to back down.
Stella sighed, exasperated at the blackmail. "...I don't believe this. I don't hang out with you guys for one day, and this is what I get," she grumbled sourly.
"You don't have to hang out with us, Stell. I don't care who you do it with, but I'm not going to let you be in your room all week," Bloom scowled. "And if I have to threaten you just to get your butt out of that room, then so be it. I'll do that too," she raised her hand, letting it glow red for a few moments and showing just how serious she was about this. After all, the best way to get someone to stop moping is to drag them out of their little bedroom, not help them stay in it.
Stella refused to answer for a long time. For one, no one, including the redhead, understood why this was so hard for her. Audelia was just—okay, maybe if all she did was hate them, then this wouldn't be so difficult. In fact, facing them would probably be like saying hi to the Trix. Sort of. But it didn't. Because there was a complex variable at hand, and that was her growing feelings for Brandon—which she'll never admit them out loud, not even to her own sister, but she also couldn't keep them repressed enough to carry on with her day unaffected.
"Stell," Bloom gently shook her shoulder. "Hey. Talk to me. Please," she softly asked. "What's on your mind?" she quizzed.
"Nothing. Just..." Stella replied tiredly. "I'll come with you guys on one condition."
"Okay, name it," Bloom encouraged, her blue eyes brightening with hope.
"...I get to leave whenever I want. Please," Stella stated slowly. "And you'll ask me zero questions about it."
Hearing that, Bloom had to resist a snort. She knew this was too good to be true. "You mean like yesterday?" she rolled her eyes. Then what's the point of even coming then? "You literally spent five hours to stay five minutes," she accused dryly. All the hours to go find the perfect dress, the laughs shared with their best friends when getting ready, the millions of selfies they clicked—what were they for then? Showcase? C'mon, a party shouldn't be just about looking good. It's about being as loud as possible, dancing the night away, saying hi to randoms, giggling with best buds, eating a week's worth, eating some more, and just having a blast overall. Though this wasn't something that Bloom had to say to Stella of all people. The blonde was notorious for this kind of stuff; she should be the last person to receive any such advice.
Stella chuckled at Bloom's pissed reply. "No, I'll be there; just not the entire time," she replied. "Maybe. I don't know though," she added with a shrug. She just needed the liberty to come and go as she pleased. The thought of staying the whole time and being chill about it scared the crap out of her.
Bloom remained quiet. She could probably convince the moon to not show up for a day, but there was just no getting through to Stella once she'd made up her mind. Fine. Take what I get, I guess, the redhead agreed to the demand, albeit a little unhappily, "Okay." Whatever. Something's better than nothing.
"Great," Stella nodded, grateful. "...So, are we good now?" she asked slowly.
"...Yeah. We're good," Bloom nodded, faintly smiling anyway.
Stella breathed out a relieved sigh. Good. Cuz she was starving already.
The two eventually resumed walking down the corridors.
"So...do I have to have the same exact conversation with the girls?" Stella asked solemnly.
For some reason, Bloom couldn't help but laugh at the grumpy frown on Stella's face. "You could, but you'd be busting yourself for no reason," the redhead smirked.
A smile filled the blonde's lips as she shot a grateful grin towards Bloom, who gave an assuring wink in return.
Putting their fight behind them, the duo went to quickly meet up with the rest and then head down to breakfast.
In the meantime...
~ Dining Area - 8:30 AM ~
So much for wanting to have a good time, a tall brunet grumbled under his breath as just about every stranger and so-called acquaintance came up to him and initiated conversation like they were long-lost buddies or something. He usually didn't mind social gatherings since they were a chance for him to meet and catch up with people he didn't usually get to, and the worst thing he would feel is maybe just straight-up boredom, but this morning...he found himself being unusually annoyed.
I wonder why, he rolled his eyes mentally, since God knows that he can't do that in public either.
He never found himself so irritated, so disinterested, and so withdrawn. Maybe it's just the absence of the yellow shade he had been scouring for all morning or maybe it's the way his parents had been "randomly" introducing him to princesses from all the other realms.
Either way…his day had gotten off to a really shitty start, and he can't wait for it to be over already. He didn't even have anyone he could blame for this. Or maybe he did. He scowled as he found his eyes searching for the familiar blonde hair again.
Women, he huffed grumpily. Such complicated beings. They themselves had no idea what they wanted yet had the gall to blame others for not figuring them out.
…
He sighed, shaking his head in frustration. Deep breaths, dude. Deeeeeep. Breaths. First, he just wanted to make it absolutely clear that it's really not his fault that he was in a crotchety mood today. People around him...just weren't being cooperative. In fact, he almost missed being so far away from home, where he had the privilege to beck and shoo people as he saw fit. If there's one luxury of being born into royalty, it's that.
He blinked when he suddenly caught the eye of a familiar green-eyed redhead walking towards him with a huge grin plastered on her pretty face. Princess Varanda of Callisto, he immediately recognized, repressing a sigh as his mood soured at the sight of her. And it wasn't necessarily because of her. No, not quite. Varanda was a lovely girl, no doubt, but it's just that, he had been fraternizing with so many princesses all morning, and he was tired. He can't believe he's saying this, but there's only so much girl power he can take at once. As a matter of fact, where are all the men at? Nereus, Avalon, Codatorta, Orion, Bishop, Nex—like, where are they?
"Hi, Brandon!" Varanda beamed, stopping just a few inches before him and smiling enthusiastically.
He wiped the frown off his face, straining to relax it into a smile. Though, he had to admit, it was definitely better to converse with a friend than be awkward around a random princess. Even if he was annoyed, at least Varanda was familiar and likeable, which is a very rare combination in the female royal community. "Hi, Varanda," he said, smiling down at her and reciprocating her invitation for a short hug. "It's been a while."
"Yeah. Eight months, at least," she agreed solemnly, pulling back. "At the Peace Treaty Summit on Ohm?" she recalled, earning a thoughtful nod. "Anyways. How have you been?" she smiled warmly at him.
"Good. Pretty good, actually," he smiled, hiding his sour frown at the blatant lie in those words. Yeah, right. Nothing's been going good for him lately. "What about you? What have you been up to lately?" he asked, diverting the attention back to her.
…
Meanwhile...
With grunts and growls escaping their lips, six fairies tried to make their way towards breakfast, but it seemed impossible to navigate through the abundance of crowds that had gathered.
"Holy shit, why is it so loud in here?" Musa exclaimed with her navy eyes peeled wide open.
Though her gnarly response wasn't too impressively received by overhearing onlookers, no one could disagree with her sentiments. The closer they got to dining, the more number of people they actually found loitering in the hallways and nearby seating rooms.
"And it looks like there are a lot more people today than there were yesterday," Tecna observed, seeing a few familiar faces that she didn't recall seeing last night.
"It probably seems that way 'cause we're inside," Bloom shrugged.
"No, I think ships still continued to come in all night, even after the party ended," Flora chimed in.
"More ships? Jeez, how many people did Domino even invite?" Stella grumbled sourly as they approached the main dining area. Man. And she thought yesterday's music was too loud. She got that people were happy—she was too—but this was a bit too much. The hallways today are practically littered with conversations and excited squeals, things you'd expect to see at a wild frat party than a regal celebration. And people have the gall to lecture on MY lack of etiquette, she chuckled with a shake of her head, mildly amused. C'mon, where's the discipline police at?
"There it is…" Layla let out a huge breath of relief, seeing the well-lit signs that pointed to the grand entrance of an enormous ballroom that had been transformed to catering for guests. Finally!
Catching their breaths, the girls peered inside with excitement, taking in the regal decor with 'ooohs' and 'aahs.' Man, seeing fancy decorations never gets old. It seemed as if everything that fit in the courtyard from yesterday has now been squished to fit in the considerably smaller but still massive ballroom. There was also no shortage of butlers and maids, all of whom rushed back and forth to refill empty buffet trays and restock the plate and glass counts.
"Look, there's Daphne and Thoren," Bloom grinned, pointing to one side of the ballroom, where the beautiful couple was found standing next to each of their parents and interacting with many of the congratulating guests.
Stella smiled faintly at the sight, her heart wishing the two lovebirds nothing but the best. They haven't dated for long, but they looked so in love and so happy together, and she was just as happy for them. Daphne was such a kind soul, with a wider morality than most and always willing to help anyone in need. And Thoren was just as nice and caring; he used his head, followed his heart, and was encompassed with qualities that every girl in any realm would simply die for. The blonde's eyes dimmed. Too bad she wasn't one of them though. Too bad...that she wasn't one of those girls who were hopeless romantics and often dreamt in the clouds about finding their perfect Prince Charming. Nope. Been there, done that. She already found her so-called Prince Charming, only his name wasn't that. She had realized and long accepted, too, that he was untouchable, meaning there's nothing to hopelessly romanticize about either.
Oh, dear God...can you be any more of a crybaby than you already are? The red devil sitting on her shoulder suddenly poked her with contempt. Like, move on, already!
Yeah, she knew that, thank you very much. Like, give her a break. It's hard enough admitting that she felt lonely as heck, let alone having to deal with her self-righteous conscience constantly taunting her about it.
Shaking her head, the blonde settled into quietude, choosing to stay silent instead while the others fangirled over their own relationships and wondered when their men would be putting a ring on 'em. Please, Stella rolled her eyes. Like that's even something to fret about. They've all been together for more than half a decade already; they've crossed all sorts of bases and stages in a relationship, so tying the knot was pretty much gonna happen.
She glanced around the newly engaged couple for a distraction, wondering if she'll see anyone else she might recognize. Maybe some more of her old classmates from Alfea? Yessss. OMG, yes. Please, YES. God, she missed them all so much. She missed those days so much. She missed going out with friends, going on missions, keeping counts on the number of boys she flirted with in an hour—yeah, that was a thing back then—and if she's going to be really honest (and she can't believe she's saying this either), she even missed being disciplined by Alfea's very own terror tyrant, Griselda. She missed it all so, so much. Her days at Alfea had been so much fun, and it just saddened her to know that...those will probably be the only golden days of her youth.
So unfair.
Was it dramatic of her to think that way though?
…
Yeah. Maybe, she agreed. But given all that's happened in the recent few weeks, it didn't seem that far-fetched anymore. In fact, she'll probably spend the next few years attending other people's weddings and their baby showers, while reminiscing about her own lost time. She'll be standing in a corner, just like she is now, and wondering when she'll get to experience love and the joys of starting a family of her own.
Sighing almost sorrowfully, she continued checking out the people in the near vicinity of the couple and pondering if there are any—
Well, there's Sky, she shrugged, spotting him immediately next to Thoren. She quickly found all of the remaining Specialists but not before raising a quizzical eyebrow at each; for some reason, they were all giggling like idiots, like they just heard one of those corny ratchet jokes that only guys would understand. Eh. Boys.
She took a brief moment to smile when she next saw her parents smiling and conversing with Daphne's and Layla's parents. She let her eyes travel around, spotting Galatea, Varanda, Krystal—
Wait.
"Varanda?" she whispered, her eyes growing wide with surprise. And that too...not so much at the princess but at the person speaking to the princess.
Varanda and...Brandon?
…
What are they doing together?
Stella paled, swallowing as her eyes glued onto the smiling brown-haired prince. Now she'd be the first person to admit that his smile was probably the most handsome thing she had ever seen, but seeing those two together...she really wished she could say that it was still just as infectious.
So much for trying to find "a distraction."
On the contraire, actually, she found bile rising up her throat.
Despite wanting to, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene—or better yet, run back to her room altogether.
...Musa's powers would come in realllll handy right about now, she huffed, ridiculing the pair but secretly wanting to know what they were so engrossed in.
Just...look at them. For one, they don't even look compatible. But just from the way they were sharing cute smiles and exchanging small talk, she could tell that they were awfully comfortable and cozy with one another. An untrodden form of hurt made its way onto her face as she tried not to feel...rejected.
...She had always liked Varanda, but that cutesy princess was now starting to get on her nerves.
"Well? Can we go in now?"
Stella barely heard an impatient Musa and the rest of her friends nodding, since her attention remained locked onto something else entirely and something far more important. Stella felt her heart break. Once, twice, thrice, and then all over again.
...Had he...moved on…? Is he somehow...engaged again?
Her heart stopping in her chest, she tried to plead—pray, actually—that that wasn't true. His smile, one that had the power to make her go weak in the knees and something she always secretly blushed and got excited about, now made her ache. She wanted it to be directed at her. She wanted to be the source of his joy and laughter. She wanted to be the one he was proud to show off in front of millions. She wanted to be...what she'll never have a chance to be.
She tried not to let this hurt. It's inevitable anyway. This was such an unfair competition, though that's assuming (and quite naively, might she add) that she was still a part of that competition. Heh. Just the fact that she can't have him already put her at a disadvantage; she always knew he was on an unreachable pedestal, but only now had she realized just how high up he really was.
She kept her eyes on him, for as long as she could, before they suddenly froze when she saw someone else cutting into the conversation. Her senses blared red and she fell slack, as a wash of instant numbness came over her when she recognized the familiar man standing next to his precious little son. The very man who had chosen to take away her sleep and give her nightmares for months, all under the name of a twisted form of "justice." The very man responsible for gaslighting countless nations against her, to stomp on her in any way they saw fit, all in the name of "obstructing liars." The very man who had reaped victory at the expense of her family's misery and made it absolutely impossible for her to forgive herself…
King Lucas of Audelia.
Yes, him. That very one, who is brutal against liars yet merciful towards murderers.
...Seeing him, seeing that man, seeing that monster...her hurt willingly took a backseat and was now no longer present. Instead, in its place, blazing hot anger ruptured and her vision subsequently started to flash red. She had to summon all her willpower to remain rooted, to not march over there and humiliate him as ruthlessly as he had done to Solaria.
"Hellooo! Earth to Stella! You there?" Musa snapped her fingers in front of her friend, who had gone unusually silent.
Bloom noticed it too, curious as to what could've spooked the blonde long enough for her to grow this quiet and not join in on the fun. She was about to ask what's wrong but stopped as her skin suddenly paled in comparison when she realized that the only thing that could go wrong, the only thing that Stella could ever be affected by was...Audelia. Simple, clear, and plain as day. Considering it's the only thing on the latter's mind these days, it wouldn't be too much of a surprise. But, oh, God, if that is the case…given the way Stella reacted when she just heard their names last night, none of them even wanted to imagine what her reaction is going to be now. Don't tell me...Bloom swallowed, following Stella's line of sight and, sure enough, finding what—whom—she had hoped she wouldn't.
Spotting Heather, too, at last and watching all of them gossip and laugh to their content, Stella could barely hold her dark frowns in. Her fists may have gone silent, but the rage in her eyes definitely made up for it. Just...LOOK at them, she growled, her gaze swatching back and forth between the three and taking its sweet time to glower at everyone in detail.
God...just look. Just look at them.
They're all pretending like nothing had happened. There was not a single ounce of remorse or unease on their faces, like none had anything to be sorry about. And her own parents...though they weren't standing too far away, the three still appeared very much unfazed. They were still carrying on with their normal business, with nonchalance.
Like no one else mattered.
…Like her family didn't matter.
She scornfully glared in silence, letting her eyes linger a lot longer on Lucas. "…"
Noticing the fire voraciously brewing and bubbling in Stella's honey-colored eyes, Bloom gently grabbed her arm, as a caution more than anything else. "Stell…" she started off, hesitant to continue.
But Stella couldn't hear or feel a thing. Almost as if she was in a trance, she continued staring at the man she had despised for over months. How can...how can anyone be s-so...s-s-so shameless? How does no one realize that? Like, is she the only one hearing their nonsense and seeing through their bullshit? It can't be, right? After all, she—
She blinked when she suddenly caught the eye of Brandon. Her heart raced as his head abruptly turned and his eyes instantly locked into hers, as if he was indeed waiting for her all this time and just anticipating her impending arrival into the room.
...Was he really...?
Ignoring her gut that screamed a yes, she instead opted to pretend that that wasn't true. It scared her that he knew she'd be here, like he almost expected her to come when she did.
"Stell? Hey. Listen to me," Bloom grabbed Stella's shoulders, shaking them gently in an attempt to momentarily, at least, distract the latter out of her hateful stupor. With continued persistence, the redhead jumped in front of her, forcing the blonde to look at her instead. "Don't. Okay? Please. Just look around you. Don't cause a scene here—" Bloom warned cautiously.
"A scene?" the blonde suddenly cut her off, finally tearing her eyes away to glare at the redhead."Who, me?" Stella spat with venom, though the malice stemmed mostly from her anger towards Audelia and not necessarily the girls. "I'm the onecausing a scene?" she hissed with a dark frown on her lips. She disbelievingly scoffed at Bloom. Man, if she thought THIS was a "scene," then she really hasn't seen anything yet.
Bloom took a deep breath, not wanting to argue here of all places. This girl finds the worst ways to twist my words around, she sighed. "Look. Stell. We'll go to the far end of this room. Okay? Or better yet, we'll grab our food and get out. Can't we just pretend that they don't exist?"
Stella couldn't help but roll her eyes at the underlying naivety of those words. Pretend they don't exist? Yeah, right. Well, how about this? She can't do that because they do exist. No "going to the far end" or other bogus sugarcoating is going to change that. Shaking her head, she was about to reply with a big, fat NO, only to pause when she caught sight of Brandon again. There was no mistaking it this time; from all the way across the ballroom, ignoring all the hordes of people in between, his gaze was on her and her alone, something that made her heart race and blood rush to her head. Why was he looking at her like that?There was an intense stare to his eyes, like he was somehow able to read right through her soul, which made her feel far more vulnerable than she already was. And looking at that, looking at him...her weak moments from last night came rushing back, and she was once again forced to withhold the pain that came from her own heart's betrayal. Swallowing, she unwillingly averted her gaze back to Lucas again, reminding herself that there were far bigger problems at hand than her lonely love life. "...No. I can't," she whispered, her voice falling into a far lower pitch than she would've liked, as she turned back to a pleading and waiting Bloom. "I can forgive anyone in this universe but not them and especially not that man," she said with firm conviction and anger burning in her eyes. "You can stay if you want, but I'm not going to sit here and pretend like nothing's wrong with this picture," the blonde defiantly stated, before shaking Bloom's hold on her and then turning on her heel.
Bloom gasped to see Stella storming off in a clear state of distress.
...Great. Like they haven't fought enough already, right?
"Stell—no, wait—" the redhead proceeded to chase her when Flora grabbed her arm, holding her back. That's when Bloom remembered that the Winx were all still here and well within earshot of the heated exchange. Out of one problem and into another, she guessed.
"Bloom, no. Don't," Tecna cautioned, placing a restraining hand on Bloom's shoulder.
"She could hurt herself," Bloom protested.
Yeah. Right. "Who? Her?" Musa scoffed. That would be one unlikely scenario. "No, in the state that she's in, she could hurt others," she remarked crudely, folding her arms.
"Let her go. She'll cool off," Flora gently nodded, agreeing with the others. "The last thing she needs right now is more attention," she wisely said, frowning at some of the curious glances that onlookers tossed their way.
"Yeah. Let's just go eat, and we'll get the food for her later," Layla said before grabbing the girls and taking them inside.
He didn't dare move. He didn't even dare to breathe, lest she disappear again if he took his eyes off. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up in alarm. Or was it adrenaline?
He felt the world disappearing away, everything else turning white while she stood out like the angelic princess that she was. All morning, he had been sneaking millions of quick glances at the door, keeping a consistent watch on it and cursing himself for doing so, but never had he once prepared himself for the way his heart would hammer so violently against his chest, all at the simple sight of her. He had never felt so anxious before, not even last night. Or maybe it was because of her indirect rejection yesterday and the sheer refusal to even speak to him. Either way, they had kept him up for a good portion of the night, making his entire body rattle with the fear of his uncertain future; on one end, she had never been so intent on gifting him death glares, and on the other, all day, his parents had been forcing him to look at and talk to other princesses, never once realizing that he had actually never once taken his eyes off of someone else.
Here she was again, beautiful as always, though his heart hurt and palpitated uneasily at the conflicting emotions rushing back and forth on that pretty face. Was it fear? Anger? Disgust, perhaps...? He couldn't tell. But he could make out one thing for sure. She couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him. And that...that itself—there was no coming back from that.
But he can't let her go. He can't give her the space she craved. After all, they were all only here for a week, and the last thing he wanted to do was waste days. She'll get her space anyway after she goes back to Solaria, so the least she could do until then? Put up with him. As harsh and selfish as that sounds.
His eyes softened, her next actions soon surprising him. But then again...not really. He watched her abruptly turn to her friends, say something in a misplaced haste...and then...that was it. She...left, leaving the girls behind. Leaving him behind.
Again.
Just like yesterday.
Quick to jump to conclusions and quicker to leave.
He sighed. Man, this was the third time she ran away from him. He didn't understand why she was doing this. For the life of him, he really couldn't. Yes, he knew he was a sore sight to see, but was it really to this extent? Or was it just her way of making things more difficult for him than they already are?
His stomach churned, bringing him back to reality, as he saw the last of her blonde hair disappearing around the corner, and he knew that he can't let her out of his sight. He ignored the fact that she'll probably hiss and claw at his face for daring to follow her, but what can he say? A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
Taking his eyes off the door, he turned to Varanda for a fleeting moment. "V, I'll see you later, okay?" he hastily told the confused princess, shooting an apologetic look for cutting her off in between.
"Oh!" she squeaked in surprise as he suddenly swooped down to give her a tight, happy hug.
"It was so great seeing you," he told her with a smile on his handsome face.
Though still surprised, she smiled back anyway, returning the compliment, "You too."
Smiling at her, he turned towards the door again, his entire body pulsing with adrenaline before his feet jerked forward.
"Hey, Brandon?" she called him again.
"Yeah?" he turned over his shoulder, pausing.
"Don't be a stranger," she smiled at him, waving.
He nodded and returned the smile, before running out as fast as he could. Well, at least as fast as he could while walking.
He chased after the blonde, his mood obviously uplifted, though his eyes still rattled at the constant fear of facing yet another rejection from her.
Sighing at the annoying gossipers that loitered and just. won't. move, Stella sorely grumbled and growled under her breath as she wrestled her way through to find herself an empty, decent hallway. One of the first rules she ever learned about magic was that fairies were forbidden from using it in public spaces, unless, of course, encouraged by dire exceptions. And she had always adhered to it since she never understood why anyone would want to be zapping lasers in a crowded space anyway.
…Until now. Seriously. Is some breathing room too much to ask? Is a big bang what's going to take for these dimwits to listen and step aside?
She stomped away, as fast as she could and as far away from those buffet tables as possible.
...As far away from those three as possible.
So much for trying to eat in peace, she scowled. She hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday afternoon. In fact, saying that she was starving was probably putting it mildly, but, thanks to those freaks, hunger was now the last thing on her mind since there was no way in hell she'd ever toss her pride aside to have a few morsels in front of her enemies.
Out of the three, she definitely, unflinchingly hated Lucas themost. She didn't care much for Heather because as far as her memory went, that woman was barely in the picture. But Lucas...he ruined everything for her. In fact, he downright embarrassed himself when he betrayed his own "justice" system by accusing her of the same fraud and deceit that he was stupendously guilty of. He showed her, overnight, that he was the type to believe his own delusional theories and invent wild bullshit to help support them.
And to think that the Winx wanted her to ignore a man like him and pretend that he doesn't exist.
Yeah, right.
Not.
…
Many minutes later, escaping into a narrow corridor two floors higher and probably an equivalent of ten blocks away from the noise and chaos, Stella found herself slowing her rampant strides. Pausing briefly to rest against a wall, she folded her arms and glared at the floor, sulking in silence. A part of her was still in denial at how she kept seeing them everywhere; at every twist and turn, in every nook and cranny, they were right there, like they seemingly had no intentions to leave her alone. And what hurt even more was the fact that the Winx, especially Bloom, didn't have her back, despite claiming to. Oddly, they were all far more interested in keeping up appearances and attracting zero attention from others. Considering how ferociously they've had each other's backs for years, it astonished Stella at how awfully forgiving and merciful they were being now. No, she didn't expect them to raise tides or wage wars. They could've at least kept mum if they had no idea what to say, but asking her to pretend that everything's okay? How was that any different from fraternizing with the enemy himself? She might as well. Honestly. What was wrong with them? In fact, had it been any one of the girls in her shoes, she wouldn't have been as placid. She would've been one very pissed-off fairy and make it very obvious that she was. Sorry not sorry, but she didn't just have enough patience or respect for someone who chooses to willingly hurt others. It's as simple and plain as that. She didn't have that much of a big heart either, to forgive and forget someone who gaslit countless kingdoms against her and took part in spewing shit about her family. Who does that? A deranged demagogue, that's who. Ugh, she can't even believe—
"You know...if you wanted to be alone, you should probably go somewhere more private," a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, cutting through the silence.
Her eyes widening and breath catching in her throat, she gasped, her head snapping up with surprise. She fell slack as she found herself staring at the warm brown eyes she just ran away from.
Ignoring the way she paled at the sight of him like she had just seen a ghost instead of a fellow person, Brandon shrugged, shaking his head almost...playfully. Anything to lighten the atmosphere, really. "I wouldn't say an open place is the best to hide," he vouched, with a ghost of a soft smile widening on his lips.
…
…
Okay.
It's official.
She's losing it.
See what she meant about seeing them everywhere? Well. This proves it. She stared at him, dumbfounded as to how he could've even found her. He was righ—right here. Within ten feet of her. So close. Yet so far away, her conscience longed. She felt her weakened resolve from last night crumble even more, since seeing him only made her feel all the more alone and abandoned than she already was. Her own family failed to understand her. Her friends failed to understand her. The anger, disappointment, sorrow, frustration, love—they all just made her want to...cry. Somehow force those tears to come rushing down before they destroyed her from within. Is that what he came to do? To see and cheer her anguish on? To bask in the glory of her misery? Can't he see what this is doing to her? What he's doing to her? Why, was running away not enough of a hint? Why come here to undo her all over again and force her to relive something she'd very much rather forget? It was so unfair and uncalled for—
Wait a second. Her skin suddenly chilled before she stood up pin-straight when yet another realization hit her with the force of a ton of bricks. She was forgetting a most important question. Why was he here? Here as in...here. With her. In this hallway.
…
Before long, her eyes widened at what she was seeing. They dashed back and forth, while goosebumps rushed up and down her arms, as she realized that...he just followed her. He didn't, did he? No...he didn't. Please tell me he didn't. PLEASE tell me he didn't just follow me, her heart raced at the plea. "...Did you just…" she whispered, raising her voice slowly in shallow breaths and biting her lip harder than what was comfortable. "Did you just follow me?" she finished in disbelief, her heart competing with the urge to pass out. ...He wouldn't. He didn't. Right? ...He didn't, did he?
Oh. Um...yeah...? He didn't know how to answer that. Yes? No? Maybe? She looked like she was going to kick his ass for it either way. "...I wouldn't have...if I knew I had any other choice," he truthfully admitted.
...He did, she stared at him in dread. Before long, her feet moved and she ran to where he stood, pushing past and letting her eyes frantically dart left and right at the hallway he had just come from.
He appeared confused for a moment before quickly realizing what she was doing. And when he did, the frown on his face incredibly softened, and his heart hurt immensely to see that, to see her so terrified. How could she…how could she be so gullible to think that he'd ever put her in harm's way? Even after what happened and what he felt for her? Of course he had kept enough distance between them and watched his six. And believe him, if there had been anyone who had indeed dared to follow him...he would've known. And punched.
In the meantime, relief repeatedly flashed across her face when she found no one—not even the palace guards—in sight. There's no one here with them. No one. Just silent effigies with blank stares. It took her a long time to realize and accept that it was just that, since she had already mindlessly expected to see her name in the next headline. Placing a clammy palm over her racing heart and using another to dab against the sweat pooling onto the center of her forehead, she tried not to have a panic attack right then and there, never realizing how much she was actually shaking.
...Though that is only until she remembered the idiot standing next to her.
Glaring at his ignorance, she whipped her head to finally face him, looking absolutely peeved.
Brandon blinked, resembling a deer caught in the headlights. Uh-oh.
UH-OH? She glared. Uh-oh is right! Uh-oh wouldn't even begin to cover it!
Yup. He definitely knew that look. That was her infamous you're-ten-seconds-away-from-being-fireballed look, something he unfortunately had a lot of experience with.
And for good reason! She scoffed. She couldn't believe that he would even take such a risk! Was he trying to kill her? And all for what? To get a few words? Talking to each other in the middle of nowhere was one thing but doing the same thing in broad daylight is totally different! And he ought to know that! Her brows furrowing in growing anger, she waited for an explanation, wondering what was simply so important that he just had to stalk her and risk putting her in the limelight again. Not something she ever thought she'd be complaining about, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. "What are you doing here?" she demanded in pure irritation.
He opened his mouth to respond before she beat him to it again, cutting him off.
"Actually, you know what? I don't think I care," she threw up her hands, throwing him a sarcastic smile. "Forget I asked." The last thing she needed was a chowderhead chancing upon them and plastering her face across the front page. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go." And wallow in my self-pity elsewhere.
He sighed, shutting his eyes in vexation. This girl is honestly...the definition of insanity. Though he didn't expect any less, he still felt his patience wearing thin. When she brushed past him, he knew that he can't just let her leave. He had pined after her for months. While, no, he didn't expect her to understand or even reciprocate, the least she could do is give him five minutes of her life. So, no, he will not excuse her, and she can't just go. "No, you don't," he stated, opening his eyes in a flash before his arm lashed out and his fingers swiftly snapped around her wrist in a vice grip. Forgive me, he repressed a sigh, hating that he had to resort to such measures.
"Ahh—!" she squeaked in surprise as she was hurled back and forced to face him again. She blinked rapidly, staring in disbelief at what he had just done. What the—what does he think he's—
Oh, no, he did not. He did not just—
"Dude, let go of me!" she struggled in his death grip, but he didn't budge.
He clenched his jaw, keeping his hold on her, firm and fastened. There was nothing but wide panic on her face as she struggled to shake her arm loose.
"What's your—what do you think you're doing?!" she asked in hysteria, shaking and twisting her arm in any way she saw fit.
He took his time memorizing her. The last time he had seen her from this up close was when he had cradled her in his arms and lost it completely after seeing what those mercs had done to her. She had seemed so fragile and breakable and that—that wasn't something he could ever unsee. Now if only this dimwit could understand that, he frowned. Today, with the fresh morning light shining on her healed, porcelain face, she looked even more beautiful than she already was. Not a flesh wound or scar in sight. Simply...beautiful. Like she was meant to be. Why…? Why can't this...why can't this girl give him a chance? A chance to talk and just tell her what and how much she meant to him?
"Let go!" she continued to snarl, oblivious to his inner battle.
...But, NO, she instead chooses to throw a complete tantrum, he grimaced before opening his mouth to speak. "You know, if you wanted to leave so badly, you should've never come here in the first place," he instructed calmly.
She blinked, falling still at the sudden sound of his voice from so up close. It never failed to halt her in her tracks.
"…We're all here to have fun, Stella," he reminded her. "Alright? You, me, and everyone else that you're seeing here," he continued, dead serious. "And as hard as it is for you to believe that, that IS the truth."
Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes bore into hers. She looked at him, swallowing at the seriousness and conviction in that tone.
"So, when I see you running from us, running from me, that—that doesn't really help," he protested in sheer frustration.
Yeah, well, you banning me doesn't either, she huffed stubbornly. "What do you care?" Did he really expect her to run to him then, with open arms and a giddy grin? Despite her growing feelings, she still had pride.
And there she goes again with her wild theories. His eyes softened, though he didn't let her see that. What did he care? He cared a lot; why wouldn't he? "Look," he sighed, slightly exasperated but still desperate enough to make things right. "I know I didn't make this very clear last night," he said regrettably, "but I need to talk to you." If he's never going to see her again after this, then he at least wanted to part on good terms. He ignored the way his heart sunk at that thought.
She raised an eyebrow at the odd request. He needed to talk to her? "Needed"? Wow. Well. How about this? That's pretty generous of him to offer that since that's exactly what she needed too, except the timing's a little off. Why, what does he want to talk about now? Why not earlier, when he still had a chance? Why now, after things have soured to a point of no return? "Well, I don't. So, let go of me!" Unrelenting, she continued to hiss like a feral cat.
His jaw clenching in tension, he sharply tugged on her wrist again, drawing her closer. "In case I wasn't clear, I wasn't exactly asking, Stella," he gently challenged, though the low growl in his tone was impossible to miss. But what did she expect? Everywhere he went, he saw her. Every princess that he had been forced to talk to, he had shamelessly compared them to her. Hell, she had been on his mind since the day she left. He had waited months to see her again, for a one-in-a-million chance to make things right, and he wasn't about to let that trot away from him, even if her stubbornness was slowly starting to tick him off.
She gulped at how close he was to her. It certainly didn't help that he was the most attractive man she had ever laid her eyes on nor the fact that his lips were just inches away from hers. Lord...help. She could honestly go jump off a cliff right now. On one hand, she was terrified at what she was doing to herself, to them, but on the other...she can't let this—whatever it is—continue any longer. She can't welcome him into her life. Not without facing consequences for it, at least. She swallowed, wetting her parched throat before eventually managing to plaster a glare and slapping her anxiety aside before he could see it. "Excuse you," she huffed. "Last time I checked, I don't work for you, pal," she scowled.
He rolled his eyes. Neither did he, but that didn't stop her from going crazy on him.
"So let me—"
He cut her off, having heard enough. This girl will really be the death of him one day. "No. And stop asking me to because I won't," he stressed, his eyes flaring with impatience. "Not until you say yes," he mandated. He can't believe how difficult it is to hold a sensible conversation with her.
"To what?!" she snapped, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. "Honestly, what is wrong with you?!" she furiously hissed. She constantly looked over their shoulders, fearing unwanted eavesdroppers. "Someone could see us—and you're hurting me—ow!—let go!" she continued to pull, twist, and struggle in his grip, but he remained unmoving.
He sighed, raking a frustrated hand through his mane. "...I'm really so sorry," his eyes softened, loosening his grip just a little but not enough to let her go. The only reason he held her was because if he hadn't, he knew she'd make the fastest beeline ever to the far end of the castle. And of course, he'd leave no rock unturned to find her, but that's beside the point; she was a clever girl and cornering her again like this won't be easy. "I didn't want to do it this way, you know—" he expressed his regret, his thumb tenderly stroking her reddened wrist. He really wished she understood that he didn't come here to hurt her again; he just wanted to talk. After all, they had gotten along once, hadn't they? Why can't they do it again? What did he do that was so heinous that she drastically changed her opinion of him and ran the other way? He could understand her resentment towards his kingdom, but why him? What was it about him that made her so intolerant?
Though not outwardly, her eyes still softened as a look of guilt flashed across his handsome face. God, why did he have to be so sweet? Like he'd ever have to apologize for touching her. He was so well-mannered even though she was acting like a deranged clown. And to think she had the gall to wonder why she kept falling harder for him.
"—but I need to talk to you—"
"I don't," she interrupted, slamming him down even though she knew she'll regret this. Heh, what do you know? She already did.
"—in private, of course," he finished, though not before shooting a disapproving scowl at her outburst.
She grew still at his mention of the word "private." Like where? In this hallway? Behind closed doors? Or maybe under that tree again?
…
Uh…yeah, no. That'll be a big, fat no, thank you very much. There's no way in hell she'd ever have private rendezvouses with him again. She had one five-minute run-in with him, and her feelings are already all over the damn place. In fact, she should just consider locking herself in her room until it's time to go home. "...No," she denied slowly.
"Then you're not leaving," he gently reminded her.
She stared at him, stunned at his persistence. Hey, she didn't remember him being this pushy last night! Or ever.
…
Though you have to admit…it's hot, her conscience giggled, leaving her to glare harder. "What is wrong with you?!" she demanded. "You're acting like a complete psycho!"
Yeah, well, that's what happens when you fall for a brat, he sighed, though one of his brows did raise by a fraction at her latest attempt to tick him off. Name-calling. Heh, and he had a feeling it would catch on fast. "...And you're throwing a complete tantrum," he pointed out, albeit a lot less dramatically than her since he refused to let her hissy fit bring out the worst in him.
"Excuse YOU—"
"Enough, alright? That's enough. Please," he silenced her again with that quiet tone of his. When she was about to open her mouth for yet another lashing, no doubt, he cut her off again, refusing to entertain this juvenile drama for any longer. "I'm known for being calm, Stella, not patient," he gently cautioned her to choose her words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was have a massive fight here and end up saying things he didn't mean.
"I'm known for neither," she defied.
That's an understatement, he muttered under his breath, exasperated. No one ever managed to tire him out in such a short amount of time.
"So I'm asking you for the last time. Let. GO," she warned seriously, ceasing her futile struggles to save her strength.
The look in her eyes has changed, from an angry to a hardened one. She'll make him regret this, he could tell. Oh, well. It'll just be one more thing to apologize about. "...No," he softly told her. He didn't want to be stubborn or yield his strength over her, but...priorities, man. They're difficult.
She stared, perplexed as to how why he was being so...adamant. Honestly. What does it take to scare this guy? Why is he putting up with her? Any sane man would just dump her complaining ass and bail already. "Fine. But you asked for this."
His brows narrowed in confusion at what she meant by that before he suddenly felt it. His eyes instinctively flickered down to her captive wrist...where it was strangely growing warmer under his touch. Huh? The temperature rose, and he felt her hand becoming unusually hotter. Seeing a challenge incite in those sparkling amber jewels, he didn't understand at first, though quickly realized her plan. His grip remained firmly on her, regardless of the growing discomfort. Heh. Two can play that game. If she thought that he would be susceptible to surrender for something as insignificant as this...well, she was more innocent than he thought.
Stella's heart sank as he continued holding her wrist hostage, paying no attention to the pain. Damn it! Damn his stubbornness! She honestly didn't expect him to be so determined to get his way; in fact, that was more of her thing. What was he doing? Why wasn't he letting her go? Why bear the pain? Did he really not care, or did he just have that high of a resilience? Either way, she didn't have the heart to inflict actual damage on him. Lowering her eyes in defeat, the blonde powered down almost immediately, not wanting to actually burn his hand. "Fine," she bit her lip. "We'll talk," she relented. "In private," she emphasized, shooting him a small glare.
At those words, Brandon let out a sigh of relief and relaxed immediately before letting go of her hand. Now how hard was that? Jeez, the things he had to do to get her to say one measly yes… "Thank you," he gently said. Unfazed by the death glares she seemed to be shooting his way, he simply smiled faintly. "Same time and place as last night then?"
"Two people disappearing at the same time is not exactly what I'd call 'private'," she huffed unhappily, taking her wrist back and cradling it to her chest.
He held back a smile. "Fine. Midnight then?" he offered. The party would be nearing its end anyway and many would be retreating back to their quarters, giving them both the perfect cover.
She remained quiet. "Fine," she mumbled, looking away.
He noticed how she seemed unwilling to even look him in the eye; she was clearly not happy, and her look of silence said it all, that she did not want to be anywhere near him. His heart bled seeing that, but...what could he do? How else was he supposed to handle her? In all his years, he had never met such a volatile female before. He had tried being Mr. Nice. He asked. He pleaded. He asked again. Only for him to fail, fail, fail, and fail. Every single time. Miserably, too, might he add. Now, unlike others, he didn't exactly have the luxury of waiting for her to eventually come around. His time with her was already ticking, so staying away wasn't an option. He just…he wished she knew how he felt. He wanted her so much, and even now, his arms itched to wrap themselves around her, wash her pain away somehow, and just...tell her how much he truly, truly missed her. "I'm really sorry about your hand," he whispered softly, though he knew he had a lot more to apologize for. Still, he hoped to at least somewhat comfort her. He didn't want her to come just because he threatened her to; no, he wanted her to be there because she wanted to listen to what he had to say too.
She looked up at his words, only to see him walking backwards.
"I'll hold you to that promise," he reminded her again before quietly turning on his heel. With a frown on his lips, he left, eventually disappearing around the corner and erasing all evidence that he was even here.
Before long, tears touched her eyes as her gaze flickered back to her wrist, which still tingled from the warmth he had left on it. "...Promises are meant to be broken, you know," she said in a soft, wounded whisper. She would know that. She would know that better than anyone because that was something she saw from up close. He promised her so much too. He promised her safety. He failed. He promised her a happy life with him, regardless of her flaws. He failed. He promised her that she'd get to leave without any strings attached. He failed, since she left with her limbs barely attached to her. So, to her, a promise didn't mean as much as it once would've. It's so easy to break, so easy to manipulate. She didn't hold him accountable for it, but...if he can fail his words…then so can she.
…
~ Stella's Room - 10:05 AM ~
A short while later, Stella headed back to her room, both emotionally and physically drained. She definitely didn't remember running into exes to be this exhausting. Her eyes were halfway closed, intent on getting some much-needed Zzz's before tonight. She opened the door to her room, expecting a large, comfy bed just waiting to be slept on...only to see an occupant already way too comfortable on it.
…
Actually…make that five.
Expecting a room all to herself, Stella groaned when she saw the opposite instead: five nosy girls scattered around her room. ...Apparently, no one got the memo that this was her private chamber and not Alfea's dorm room.
Seemingly engrossed in a lively conversation already, they all looked up at once when she entered, ceasing their lips from moving.
Sure, man. Make it even more awkward. The blonde felt her face flame at the five pairs of eyes curiously staring at her. Ugh. Haven't they ever seen an angry blonde before?
...Figures.
"Jeez, don't all talk at once," Stella snorted sarcastically, interrupting the ominous silence.
The girls awkwardly coughed and looked away before Flora, who was sharing a loveseat with Layla, responded first. "Where were you?" she asked in concern.
"On a walk," Bloom suddenly cut in, snickering from the bed.
Stella glared at her, not appreciating the joke. "What do you all want?" she rolled her eyes. "I mean, if you're here to preach again, you can show yourselves out. There's the door," she helpfully pointed. She's seen enough judgmental looks already, thank you.
"Define preach," Layla smirked, standing up.
Ugh, Stella sighed. Here we go again.
"Aww, c'mon, Stell…aren't you tired of this? Don't you want to have fun, girl?" Layla nonchalantly questioned, coming up to her and swinging an arm around her shoulders. C'mon now, seriously. Who can resist rocking a booty on the dance floor?
The blonde wistfully sighed, honestly wishing it's as easy as saying a yes/no. Just knowing that she can run into any one of those three, especially Lucas and Brandon…it put her on edge. Why should she be forced to endure that? While she felt nothing but loathing and disgust for Lucas, she wished she could say the same for his son. Seeing Brandon had been tougher than she thought, let alone scheduling midnight rendezvouses with him. She cursed, her thoughts drifting back to what happened a while ago. She had no idea what she's gonna do tonight or what he wanted to talk about, but she definitely will not be going. Uh uh. His uncharacteristic persistence to get his way today had scared the absolute crap out of her, to the point where she didn't want to be that alone with him. That'd be a disaster waiting to happen, which, given her lack of thought around him, can only mean that she'd end up making a total fool of herself.
And speaking of fooling…she wondered if she should let the girls in on what happened. They deserved to know. Right? After all, they've been with her for longer than most, and they've always known all aspects of her life, including and especially ones that are best kept secret. But this is different and you know it, her inner voice cut in.
She bit her lip, torn.
Yeah. She did. She knew that.
As much as she hated to admit it, telling the girls would really be...futile. She knew what they'd do anyway. Freak out. Just like she did. Then they'd scream, jump, pace back and forth, and chide her for having feelings for someone who'll never look at her the same way. She didn't need them to tell her that since that's what she'd probably do too, if she was in their shoes. There isn't a reason for Brandon to look at her and not just because of the ban. Regardless of what happened and more often than not, she felt as if he was indeed way out of her league; he'd definitely look to settle for someone who's not her.
Ugh. This was the reason she did nothing past flirting. Love was way too complicated.
She opened her mouth, finally answering their question. "I do, except those freaks aren't making it easy. I keep seeing them everywhere," Stella mumbled in complaint. What a lie. There was a far bigger reason as to why she couldn't enjoy herself and she blamed every bit of it on the handsome brown-haired dork she had grown so fond of.
Bloom sighed in exasperation. "Here we go again," the redhead facepalmed at the reply. She eased back into the bed, letting the others do the talking for once. She could really give her vocal cords a rest.
Stella scowled at her again. "Okay, what's the big deal about a party anyway? We've been to plenty already," the blonde grumbled.
"Yeah. We have. Key word: been. As in, the past tense," Tecna corrected with a chiding frown. "Our most recent one was Krystal's Princess Ball last year," she sourly pointed out, continuing, "and who knows when our next one's going to be?" All of them lived realms apart. Considering everyone's schedules and commitments, time wasn't exactly a luxury they can afford to waste by pointlessly debating with one another.
And who would've thought Stella of all people would be the first to complain?
"Listen, Stell…we're not fans of Audelia either. We told you that yesterday and we're telling you again. We're not happy that they're here. And they deserve your anger. They really do, very much so, but…Daphne doesn't," Flora softly reminded in a gentle, calming tone. "We don't want to show her that we're unhappy. She has always been there for us, for you. Think of how many missions we wouldn't have come back from if it weren't for her," the motherly brunette pointed out. No one denied her claim; many missions were indeed accomplished because Daphne always had those one or two points to say that would make all the difference. "This is important to her, and we promised her that we'd be here. All of us." What happened with Audelia can just stay between the six. There's no reason to bring their personal feuds into such a happy occasion.
Well...when you put it that way...Stella fell silent, unable to argue any further. See, this is the reason she hated them at times; they only needed to preach one thing to hound her with guilt. And as crappy as she felt, even she can't deny their math. Daphne hadn't just been their professor or mentor; she's been a big sister. Someone they could always count on.
"And regardless of the reason, if she finds out that you're skipping out...she'll, of course, be upset," Layla solemnly continued. "We love both of you. We don't want either of you to get hurt."
"Okay, okay. I get it," Stella put up her hands, surrendering. She really was too tired and sleepy for this recurrent drama. "You're right. I'm sorry," she mumbled, raking a hand through her hair. "I'm not saying that I'd be skipping…" she sighed. Though it was pretty tempting to do. "I just…it's just really difficult to be there the whole time."
"Then don't. Just stay for a few hours and then leave," Layla encouraged. "Just long enough for people to not ask where you are. And then you can go."
Stella raised an impressed brow at the surprising turn of events. "Really? You really mean that?" she gave them a dubious glance.
"No, but it definitely beats you running off in the first five minutes," Musa giggled, coming up to her to swing an arm around the blonde's shoulders.
Stella's face flushed in embarrassment as she recalled last night's fiasco. That really was such a pity. And a waste of makeup and a perfectly good dress too, since she can never make a public appearance with it again for a long time—cuz let's be real, she never wears the same dress twice to a party. Stella scratched her head sheepishly as she stood between her two smirking best friends.
"Yeah, don't think we didn't notice," Musa slyly teased.
Layla chuckled. "Alright. Now that we're done preaching," she smiled, making Stella chortle shortly. "There," she pointed to a covered breakfast tray sitting on the nightstand beside the bed.
The blonde, relieved from the change in conversation, couldn't be more grateful for the distraction because she was seriously starving at this point. She quickly made a beeline over to the food and removed the cloche, letting her eyes run over the menu. "...Hey, how come there's only one chocolate-chip cookie in here?" she pouted, quickly noticing and frowning at the measly selection of desserts. She held up the lonely cookie, giving them all a dry look.
"Oh, I ate three on the way up," Musa sheepishly admitted.
"Musaa!" a long, whiny response ensued, resulting in amused laughter, especially from the musical fairy, though only until flying pillows assaulted her out of the blue.
…
The girls, with the exception of Bloom, soon left, heading on to spend some quality time with their guys but promising to return later in the afternoon. And while she loved them just the same, Stella couldn't be more grateful for the silence...except it would be even better if Bloom, too, could just meet the person instead, rather than viciously texting him with her manicured fingernails.
"Why aren't you going with them?" Stella asked her, truly puzzled.
"Huh?" Resembling a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, Bloom curiously glanced up from her phone. "Oh, I guess I want to stay with you," the redhead smiled faintly, feebly shrugging her shoulders.
What a BS, Stella raised an eyebrow, eating her breakfast quietly. "That's very sweet of you, but I don't need a babysitter, you know. You should go see Sky too," the blonde encouraged good-naturedly. Seeing Bloom fidget, Stella could tell that she was torn about staying here or going to see Sky. And for good reason. Considering she hadn't seen or talked properly to her fiancé in over three months, it was only natural for Bloom to want to spend some quality time with him—and Stella completely empathized with her...since she of all people knew what it's like to not be able to spend time with the one she loved. "I'm serious, Bloom. You should go. I'll be fine," she tried to reassure, absentmindedly chomping on a cookie. She didn't want to sound like she was pushing Bloom out the door, which she wasn't (she really wasn't…sort of), but she knew that if she said "go" one more time, Bloom will assume just that. "And you know what? And if it'll make you feel any better, I think I'll head out too," the blonde tried to further console her.
That got the redhead's attention. "What? Where?" she asked in alarm.
Stella laughed, "Not to the stables, if that's what you're asking. Maybe I'll go to the mall or something."
Bloom blinked in surprise. "...Oh."
…
And that seemed to do the trick. Wonderfully.
Stella smirked in amusement as she watched Bloom sit on her knees and then just...stay there. "Well?" the blonde raised an inquisitive brow, gesturing to the door. "What are you waiting for?" Oh...the struggle is real.
"...Um. I don't know what room Sky is in," the redhead blushed sheepishly, scratching her head in total confusion.
…
Twenty minutes later, Stella found herself alone in her room. Finally. Thank the Dragon.
Collapsing on her bed with her hair wildly fanning about her and body sinking comfortably into the thick mattress, she was lost in her own thoughts, itching to think things off her chest.
She absentmindedly pulled her laptop off the nightstand and opened it, only to watch her screen resume displaying her unread inbox again. With an uninterested groan, she placed the device aside and cuddled deeper into the cozy sheets, ignoring the large part of her that still felt cold. Not the part she was proud of having but...whatever. She stared up high at the ceiling, absentmindedly counting the weird design patterns on it.
…
...It's official. It was of no use. This wasn't working. She had done all she could to mentally boost herself. To pull it together, to somehow coax herself out of the bottomless void she had fallen into. But no matter how many times she'd chide, insult, berate, and name-call herself, it just wasn't working. She couldn't resist her mind from revolving around Brandon, though, ironically, she knew that she was the one earlier who had treated him like a disgusting bug that needed to be squashed—and she liked to think that she was only curious about what it is he wanted to talk to her about, but only she knew in her truest heart of hearts that she simply wanted to see him just as much and didn't, in fact, need him to force her to do that. She couldn't help but wonder what he "needed" to talk to her about though. What could he possibly have to say? Given everything that's happened, she figured that any short excursion with her is the last thing he'd wanna have—unless he's not here to do that at all and cunningly had something else in mind. Maybe he's here to shoot a warning or tell her nosy self to stay out of his way or something. After all, he did sound pretty pissed—then again, she would be too if she were the one stuck dealing with an insane banshee.
On the other hand, could he blame her? As if being forced to relive everything isn't enough, she was also stuck being a sore loser about it, not wanting to accept that there might be another girl involved in Brandon's life. She didn't know him anymore and that's assuming she ever knew him at all; seeing him with Varanda today just reminded her of that. She didn't know what their relationship was, and frankly, she wasn't sure she even wanted to find out, in fear that it could be something she can only dream of but not have it for herself.
Stella bit her lip, reopening her laptop again and drumming her fingers rhythmically against the keyboard. Staring at the empty screen, she couldn't help but want to...see for herself. To see if he was a taken man, if his future was promised to someone else. Curiosity now getting to the best of her, she quickly cast a careful look around, making sure that there was no one in the room but her and then searching for the latest news articles about him. Anything, really. Anything to get some answers and even see his face. Admittedly, the last time she did this was months ago, when she first went back home. She would spend hours of her day just staring at those perfect features and reminiscing wistfully over him, though it was only until Audelia had willingly sworn secrecy to the truth and chosen to spin daily webs of lies instead, about Solaria and her in general. After that fiasco, she vowed to never go looking for anything related to the kingdom again, including him. If that meant bottling her feelings for the one guy who ever truly mattered to her, who ever made her heart waver in a way that she never thought possible...then so be it. She shut everything away, painfully shunning herself from anything that bore the slightest semblance to them, to him. And she's been pretty successful at it too.
...Until yesterday.
She's been doing so well, making so much progress (or so she thought), but it had only taken a minute for her to come back to square one, back to this void of false hope again, where, even if it's just for a few moments, she's crazily allowing herself to dream about being happy with her perfect dream guy (no pun intended), only to wake up and realize that, all along, she had only been good enough as a daughter, a sister, a friend, but...never as something more. She'd always be that girl who could effortlessly get through a dozen dates in a dozen minutes, but that's it. She'd never go past that base. What was once her bragging right was now something she detested. She'd never be anything more, for anyone. She'd never be someone's Princess Charming.
Since leaving Alfea, she has changed so much, to the point where her priorities have radically shifted. She didn't crave attention as much as she once did. She didn't lust after fame anymore. She valued relationships, family, friends, and life in general, so the thought of having to be alone forever scared her. And sure, she'd get married one day since she'd be obligated to, but at what cost? She didn't want to get hitched to someone she wasn't compatible with. She didn't want some drunken freak or an abusive dick, though she knew there's a high chance of getting that. She would know. After all, douchebags in royalty are a dime a dozen. Brandon, on the other hand...well, he was just the rare, exceptional case.
When she seemingly found no connections between her heartthrob and the annoying Princess of Callisto, Stella could barely resist the giddy sigh of relief that escaped her lips. And she didn't stop there. She scrolled through some of the older articles, barely paying any attention to the headlines, since his pictures underneath were far catchier. She stared at each of the photos longingly, covertly delighting herself with each and every alluring inch of him. Her eyes brightened when she also found candid snapshots of him in casual clothing. Considering she had almost always seen him in only business or princely attire, bomber jackets and leather coats were definitely a sight for sore eyes. He was just so pleasant and satisfying to look at, something his smiling face also often vouched for. Regardless of everything else, even she had to admit that he really was a very happy guy. He looked it, at least. There wasn't a single scandal or controversy to his name—of course, that's not counting the one including her. Aside from being, perhaps, the hottest guy she had ever laid her eyes on, he's also a literal walking moral compass. Well-balanced, well-raised, sensible—and pretty patient too, considering how far he kept going just to deal with her nonsense.
Moving on, she played random clips of some of his older interviews and smiled to herself, not really listening to him talk but, rather, watching him talk.
Q: So, Prince Brandon, do you leave the palace often? You're rarely seen out.
A: Oh, no, that's not true at all. [Laughs] I do, in fact, prefer to be outdoors most of the time; it's just that I'd like to stay away from the limelight. [shrugs]
Can't relate, Stella absentmindedly chuckled to herself, continuing to tune in.
There's just something about his voice that soothed and thrilled her at the same time. It was low and soft but still powerful enough to send shivers down her spine and never let her forget who he was or where he came from.
She paused again, minutes later, as his next words suddenly struck a chord within her.
Q: So, do you have any special lady in mind?
A: [Laughs] No. No, I don't.
Her heart tugged as he said that, though quickly sought comfort in the fact that this particular interview was from eight months ago. She didn't have the heart to keep track of his latest interviews. Had he said anything about her or even insinuated anything shady...she wouldn't have been able to bear it.
Biting her lip, she resumed the video again, learning as much as she can about him even though it was limited. He honestly didn't give too many of these. Even those that he did, he didn't seem completely comfortable with the attention he received nor the invasive questions those anchors threw his way. While she was a notorious blabbermouth in front of cameras, he was quiet and reserved, revealing only what he had to.
She loved reading about him too. Throughout the years, he had been spotted talking to girls, though there wasn't any confirmed news of him holding a long, definitive relationship. She supposed that was a good thing. Right? Though she can't help but wonder how he was so good at charming her despite never having any experience.
She continued on to view more videos of him, not really bothering to look at the titles. Honestly, she had no idea what he was saying now; all that warfare and tech talk flew right over her head, but he still made her smile because it was clear that he took a lot of pride in what he did. He would occasionally laugh, though for some reason, it wasn't as full or free as she had remembered. He somehow seemed to have a guarded appearance too, something she didn't think he would've.
Her smile instantly fading at how much things have changed, she lay there with a paused screen and a dejected frown. He had truly given her access, and she had chosen the worst possible way to reject it.
…
She sighed in sadness, softly biting her lip in despair. She shouldn't have done this. She shouldn't have gone back in time, gone after him again. She should've long buried her feelings and wishful thinking in the past, back when she still could, when they weren't as strong as they are now.
Stella turned, glancing at the clock on the wall for the briefest of moments. There was still plenty of time left for the party tonight, and she dreaded the thought of having to stay here for hours on end, with only her feelings to keep her company.
The words she uttered to Bloom a while ago flashed in mind. Maybe taking her own advice and hitting the mall wouldn't be such a bad idea. After all, there was no shortage of new merchandise, and perhaps some retail therapy is just what she needed to clear her mind.
With a deep breath and a determined look in her eyes, Stella hopped out of bed. She snapped her fingers to change into something more casual, before grabbing her purse and catching the bus minutes later to head to the mall.
~ 11:00 AM ~
With a serene smile on her fair face, Stella expertly cruised through the bright lights, polished floors, and tense faces of fellow shoppers. With practiced ease, her eyes scanned for anything interesting, looking beyond the carefully-crafted images and ignoring the stylish sign boards that seduced and reeled in unsuspecting, hungry customers. Unlike all other times, shopping for gowns wasn't really on her agenda today, considering she had plenty of those already. Not a sentence she ever thought she'd say, but hey, guess there's a first time for everything.
Her gaze drifted to the smaller-end thrift stores and souvenir shops instead. They weren't really her style, but she figured she'd at least check 'em out to kill time; she still had a couple of hours to spare before she has to head back.
Randomly strolling into one of the gift shops, Stella freely glanced around with curiosity, thankful that there wasn't much of a crowd in here. She mostly preferred to be alone these days; maybe it's 'cause she's been so shut off lately or hasn't gone out as much as she would've liked to, but her once nonexistent social anxiety has seriously kicked up a notch. She grew wary, apprehensive, and just plain distrustful of people, of especially men in general. Not that anyone cares, of course, she muttered under her breath, mustering an agitated eye roll.
She rifled through the random antiquities and trinkets, letting out a low 'tsk' under her breath at the overbearing prices. Such rip-offs. She wasn't sure what she wanted to look for until a bright smile lifted her face when she spotted figurines—wedding-themed ones especially (how convenient)—in a quiet corner. All with different models, there were plenty of them that adorned the shelves.
She made her way over to them with gentle strides and peered closer to take a good look at each. Maybe she could gift one of these cute little dolls to Daphne. Or even to Bloom. That'll definitely cheer the redhead up. Stella's eyes narrowed in amusement when she indeed saw a figurine of a bride with bright scarlet hair. She picked it up, examining it closely before chuckling and putting it back down when she saw green eyes on the bride instead. Another one that was a few dolls away also stood out to her: a figurine of a couple, with a golden-haired bride and a brown-haired groom, with the groom was holding his wife-to-be by her waist, and her arms wrapped around his neck, with her face cozily tucked into the base of his neck.
Perfect, she grinned, picking it up. It would be one cute gift to Daphne and Thoren—
Or not, Stella suddenly flinched, the smile on her face vanishing as fast as lightning when she noticed the way the features on the models seemed eerily familiar. Blonde hair, brown hair… Sound familiar? The dolls looked strikingly similar to herself and…Brandon. Given she's only known him for like two days—and her own promiscuous nature in general—she didn't know if she was committed enough in her feelings to imagine being married and envision the rest of her life with him, but she had to admit; she didn't feel as if she was giving up much. The thought of being married to someone like him…it sounded soothing and…safe. That's the word she'd use to describe Brandon. The only times she had ever felt secure and happy in Audelia was when she had been with him.
This could've been her, she mused, eyeing the smiling bride and groom with melancholy. This would've been her…if she had been the one engaged to Brandon instead. If she hadn't been Bloom...if she had been the one engaged to Brandon instead...would he have loved her? She didn't know nor could make a guess, though she'd be lying if she said she never wondered about it.
Compared to Bloom...she really wasn't that special. What's so special about blonde hair and brown eyes anyway? Flaming red hair and fierce blue eyes though? Now they're something to talk about. Was Bloom prettier than her? Is that why he liked me—I mean, her? Stella pondered, chewing on her lower lip in thought. She couldn't help but wonder, recalling how he practically spared no efforts in making sure that she's comfortable—not to mention him throwing cheesy, charming lines at every beck and call. Now that she actually thought about it, she couldn't believe how complacent he was about accepting a random stranger as a wife. One he had never seen or talked to yet was willing to trust her wholeheartedly and let her be a significant part of his life. Who would do that? Not her for sure. He can't be that much of a traditionalist. Maybe he had a crush on Bloom all along. That would explain his ease with her.
Pain flashed across her face at the new revelation. Maybe he liked Bloom all along. No wonder he was willing to walk to the altar with me, Stella softly sighed, placing the figurine back and heading out of the store before pausing at the exit, unable to walk any further. Biting her lip, she made her way back to the shelves and picked up the figurine again before walking to the counter to pay.
Just a little reminder for herself.
If she was going to move on and find someone new, she wanted to at least remind herself that she won't settle for anything but the best and nothing less than what Brandon showed her. Someone who made her feel pure, warm, and fuzzy all over. No one had ever said such things to her—no one will; not with such profound sincerity at least—and even if it's for a short time, he made her feel loved and reminded her that she was indeed worth being loved. When the time came, he protected her with his life; he killed for her and did things he wouldn't have had to or harden his heart for, if she hadn't been there. But her? She hadn't been able to do anything for him, not even give him a thank you.
"Please keep the change," Stella informed the cashier before walking out of the store.
She moved onto the next gift shop, albeit with a bittersweet smile, hoping to find more of such mementos to break yet heal her heart at the same time.
Hours later…
~ Palace of Domino - 4:20 PM ~
The second the bus stopped near the palace and opened its doors, Stella bolted out as fast as lightning and was heaving and ho-ing her way back. Cursing at her clear lack of restraint when it came to shopping, she rushed to her room with a handful of bags swinging in her hands and slapping against her thighs.
Though her little excursion to the mall had kinda gotten carried away, it had been, in one way or other, therapeutic. She was both content and sad at the same time, the only person pampered with gifts and goodies being herself. It cheered her up to an extent, though the thought of tonight and the next four nights still soured her mood.
Stella barged her way into her room, throwing her bags aside in a corner afterwards.
Fifteen minutes later, she was out of the shower and dressed in something casual. Rushing into the room towards her closet, the frantic blonde yanked the door open and grabbed her dress for tonight. She took the rest of her things, stuffing them into a duffel bag, before making her way out of the room again. Opening her phone, she open the group chat she had with the girls and quickly texted them, asking about the room number. Her phone pinged from Musa in the next few seconds, letting a faint smile bloom on Stella's face at the prompt response before the blonde rushed to their room to get ready. Swerving left and right and making beelines past a couple of hallways, she finally stopped at Musa's and Tecna's shared room and charged straight in. "Sorry I'm late!" she announced breathlessly, slamming the door shut behind her.
The girls, all of them either half-naked or wrapped in robes, briefly turned to grin at their intruder.
"Good 'cuz I was 'bout to barge in there and yank you out myself," Layla snorted, being the first to recover.
Stella laughed. "Hey, it's not as easy to come out of a shopping trip, you know," she remarked. After all…old habits die hard, she thought in amusement, rushing around the room to set her things down. She had barely opened the zipper of her bag when she felt a gentle tap atop her shoulder. The blonde turned around to see Bloom standing next to her.
"How do you feel?" the redhead quietly questioned, her features softened into mild concern.
Stella simply gave her a subtle thumbs-up and a small smile of reassurance, earning a convinced, relieved nod in response. The blonde pulled her makeup kit and hair irons out, holding them firmly in her hands and inquiring loudly next, "Alright, where's an empty mirror?"
~ 8:35 PM ~
Hours ticked by. Way faster than they did yesterday. Stella couldn't ignore the uneasy gnawing she felt at the base of her stomach; in fact, it only grew with each passing second. It was well past eight, meaning she had less than four hours before midnight. She hadn't forgotten Brandon's words or her interaction with him today. No, not at all. Her heart hadn't cooled since then; in fact, it only sped up, running at either a million miles per second or stopping altogether in her state of just straight-up panic. She had managed to get the girls to mind their own business, but knowing them...who knows how long that'll last?
She stood to the side, mingling absentmindedly with even those she knew. Her mind was focused on something else altogether—like how she'd glance at the clock every time and her jaw would fall wide open at how many minutes have already passed. It almost felt as if she was stuck in a world where someone rotated the time around by hand. It—it was moving so fast.
"Princess Stella?"
The blonde visibly jumped in near terror and gasped audibly, not expecting anyone to cut into her thoughts. She turned to see the source beside her, and she found herself staring into the eyes of a brown-haired man. Her heart dropped, churning violently. Again. No, no, no, not who she thought it was. Surprisingly. At this point, she expected to see Brandon at every nook and cranny. Thankfully, it wasn't him. Though the brown hair of this stranger had been enough to trigger her. She recognized this man. It was Prince Atlas, hailing from the kingdom of Navis where the common mode of transportation is not through a normal road but rather through ships and seas.
"My apologies," Atlas apologized, glancing at her with genuine concern. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
She swallowed, getting a hold of herself. "N-No, that's—that's okay. I-I was just really…to myself," she answered lamely, straining a smile.
"I see," he warmly smiled, glad that that was all. "Would you like to dance?" he kindly offered, extending his hand.
She stared, surprised at the question. For some reason, the uneasy gnawing returned. Doubled, actually. In full force. Apprehension filled her, as she kept her eyes on the extended left hand for a moment. No, it wasn't necessarily the question that bothered her; it was what's going to follow that brought on the chills and had her shaking to her core. The fact that she had to dance with someone in the middle of a hundred other couples? The fact that she'll have to…move with them…? Make all the strange maneuvers that came with dancing? …Touch and…be touched…? Her eyes flashed back and forth with panic and full-blown flashbacks, and she found herself dwelling into the past and forgetting the future. Like the sound of glass breaking, like the ocean flooding a sinking ship, her mind collapsed into turmoil. Again.
And…green. She saw green. And black. And—and red. Lots of it. Lots and lots of it. Her. She saw herself, dissolving into a river of red. Her body pleading with sobs. Her pleas too turbulent to make out coherent words. Her whimpers too muffled to call for help. Bruises. Bruises everywhere. Broken jaw. Broken nails. Broken fingers. Broken hands. Broken ribs. Broken everything. A battered face and a shattered heart to match.
Stop, stop, stop, no, please stop—she clutched her head, closing her eyes and pushing back the image that plagued her even in her sleep, the mask that he wore to lure in unsuspecting victims, the face of death she still hasn't forgotten to this day. Fear filled her and she suddenly saw his face in Atlas's, making her recoil back in terror, something that didn't escape the young prince's notice.
"Princess Stella? Are you alright?" he questioned, his eyes slightly wide.
Atlas's concern-filled voice—a stark contrast to the one that frightened her—had been enough to bring her back out of the torpor, and she, too, was shocked at herself, at the feelings that had surfaced, all from a simple invitation to a slow dance. "Uh—yes. Yes, I'm—I'm r-really sorry—" she stuttered in bewilderment, racking her brain for an excuse good enough to help her escape. "—I would love to, b-but I really have to take this," she blabbed out of the blue, offering the stranger a strained apologetic smile and nervously holding up her phone.
"Oh…but…it didn't even ring," he pointed out, puzzled.
Well, duh. But she felt too numb and fragile to let the embarrassment wash over her. "It was—it was vibrating," she tightly smiled, gripping onto the phone firmly as her hand grew visibly shaky. "I'm so sorry."
He looked confused for a long moment before giving her an understanding nod.
She held the phone to her ear and said a dramatic hi to her imaginary friend Jewel—really, she could beat herself with her own slipper now—then moving away from the prince quickly. He seemed to buy it—or just didn't show it if he hadn't. She beelined away towards her friends, staying close to them, before she could have another episode. Speaking of, it surprised her that she even had one. She was never the type to have traumas or relive a bad memory over and over. It wasn't who she was, so it bothered her at how much she didn't want to dance with anyone. She didn't want to be touched either. She just…she just wanted to be left alone.
Taking a moment to catch her breath, she inhaled deeply. Shaking her head to herself, she casually eyed the time, only for her eyes to nearly pop out of their sockets and her jaw to fall to the floor. Again. Apparently, no one got the memo that her body wasn't equipped to handle a multitude of shocks. She couldn't believe that it was already five past eleven. Seriously? Since when?! She JUST got here! How had two hours managed to whip by her without her noticing? No wonder Bloom looks so calm, Stella sulked, eyeing her sister from a distance, who flashed her an oblivious smile in return.
That's when the blonde totally lost it, and she started to look around, gulping and swallowing. Oh God, oh God, oh God. It was nearly midnight. The thought alone made her want to pass out. Her eyes consciously started to search for Brandon, but he was nowhere to be found, which she didn't really care about and was, in fact, all the more glad about. It was a big place, and she was fine with not running into him at every twist and turn. She was already sweaty enough and this gown, despite being flared outwards, was starting to suffocate her. As the minutes rolled by, she futilely tried to find herself a hiding spot, somewhere she could preferably pass out and wake up a week later.
Or just leave altogether, Stella decided in the spur of a moment, subtly excusing herself from the group of people she had been fraternizing with for the last thirty or so minutes. She figured she had stayed for enough, right? She probably talked to at least twenty people tonight, she ate a lot—or at least as much as her gown would allow her without showing off a food belly—and she had been approachable enough to receive invitations for dancing (even if she rejected them all with lame excuses).
She could only hope that her friends wouldn't question her leaving. Spotting each of them either eating, drinking, dancing, or just chatting with others in general, Stella figured that they wouldn't miss her at this point. Another hour or two, and this party would come to an end anyway. For tonight.
Ugh. She already felt a migraine come on at how many more she was stuck with enduring. She quickly slipped away, easing into the palace with little difficulty. Her knees were shaking, and she debated finding herself a place to sit before her eyes narrowed into a scowl again at spotting couples here and there being frisky in abandoned hallways.
…
…At this point, she's officially convinced that the universe has something against her.
She didn't know whether to glow green with envy or look away in disgust. They all looked so happy. And she was the lonely, unwanted duckling.
The guy she wanted didn't want her, and she rejected all those who hoped for a chance with her. She'll forever be alone, that's for sure—no, I won't! She screamed at herself in anger, demanding everyone in her head to just get. OUT. And preferably leave her alone. She didn't need anyone. She'll be fine. She survived twenty-something years already; she'll survive a couple more.
Stella checked her phone, her cheeks glowing scarlet in frustration, at how fast time was running and how it managed to outrun her in heels.
What a tragedy, she huffed to herself, hurrying up to her room before someone can catch her.
…
Over an hour later…
~ Somewhere Else – 12:40 AM ~
Brandon hadn't realized how painful waiting really was. Until now.
No thoughts. No focus. Just…waiting.
He had imagined random constellations in the sky, finished counting the number of trees in the horizon, and did everything he could to ease his nerves, including checking his phone for the eighth time in two minutes. Though he wasn't sure why; it's not like she'd call or anything.
Placing his hands into the hands of his pockets, he paced around and kicked the grass rather impatiently. It was 12:45 already. Where was she? In fact, would she even show—
No, he rapidly shook his head, forcing himself to remain optimistic. Let's just…let's wait for another fifteen minutes, he nodded, repeating to himself for the fourth time. Maybe she...maybe she's just running late or got lost or something, he justified her tardiness with faint hope in his eyes.
…Not likely but…whatever.
…
His eyes would glance up every now and then to spot any slivers of gold, only to be visibly disappointed when not a single speck or sparkle would stand out.
The passing time only made him feel all the more apprehensive and ill at ease. But most of all, he was angry. Angry at his parents, the universe, and whoever else, for introducing her to him and then cruelly ripping her away. He hasn't yet made peace with it, and at this rate, he wasn't sure he ever will. He can't possibly miss her and focus on something else at the same time. It was far too agonizing. He wasn't sure if it's guilt or love that ate his being away; whatever it was…he felt as if he can't breathe without the idea of seeing her again.
Some men would probably enjoy the chase but…not him. He's not about that. He'd much rather just have her here, in front of him. And she doesn't even have to say anything. Or she can, in her own special way. She can do what she does best. Yell, ramble, and throw outbursts, he faintly chuckled, a small fond smile spreading on his lips. He realized that he'd much rather those as opposed to not seeing her at all.
…
Fifteen rolled by, then another fifteen, and another fifteen.
…
Yet…not a single strand of gold in sight.
…
Shutting his eyes in defeat, he leaned against a tree. It's official. Stella didn't show. She wouldn't show.
He sighed again. He should've known.
Though deep down…he already did.
…
A/N: Hi, guys! :) Thank you for reading! :) Though I have to admit, I did rush the ending a little bit because this wasn't supposed to be an ending; there's still about 80% left for me to type. But I don't know when I'll be finished, so I figured I'd update in between. I'm not sure how many chapters there would be, but I already have most of the ending planned out. I'll try my best to have the next one up faster than this one cuz I'm so gonna freak if this story passes the three-year anniversary mark. *-*
Once again, thank you so much for reading! :) ^-^ Take care, stay safe, and I hope I'll see you in the next one. In the meantime, HAPPY HOLIDAYS and HAPPY NEW YEAR! :) ❤︎