Culinary Arts, task 11. Write about someone weak or frail
Word Count: 747
This is not the young man she had fallen in love with all those years ago. Druella feels her heart breaking as she stands in the doorway, words sticking in her throat.
He is still Abraxas, but he is not her Abraxas. The strong limbs of his youth have been replaced with thin, weak arms and legs that look like they might shatter at even the smallest touch. His skin, which was smooth as silk and so warm to the touch that they felt like home, is looser now, and it's so paper-thin that Druella is afraid it might rip if she gets so close.
She's tempted to back away, to pretend she never came at all, but Abraxas looks up. The movement is strenuous, as evidenced by the way he sucks in gasping, shaking breaths. Still, his thin, chapped lips twitch into the faintest of smiles.
"Druella, my love," he says. "I was afraid you had forgotten about me."
His words are like daggers in her heart. How could she ever forget the first person to teach her what love is? Once, he had been so faithful and adoring. His whispered promises had consumed her thoughts, and she had lived for his touch.
"Forget you?" she whispers, removing her emerald cloak and draping it neatly over her slender arm. "My darling Abraxas, I could never forget you."
Would this be easier if she could forget him? Seeing him like this, knowing he has grown old without her, hurts too much.
It should have been them. If only he had gone to her father before Cygnus had.
Now, the man she had loved is gone. This frail, fragile man who wears a lover's skin has taken his place…
And yet, somehow, she finds herself melting regardless. The years have aged them both. Druella is not the foolish girl, so quickly to believe in her silly dreams, anymore, but being here makes her soften.
She moves closer, reaching out but hesitating, her chest aching. With a smile, he reaches out as well, taking her hand in his. Once, this would not have been possible. The dragon pox that has taken hold of his body would have been too great a risk, but she doesn't have to worry about that. Abraxas is most unfortunate that his condition was too advanced for treatment by the time it was discovered.
"They say I don't have long left," he tells her, weakly lifting his free hand and gesturing around the room. "We had dreams once, remember? You and I were going to retire in a pretty little cottage by the sea."
She remembers it with such clarity that it hurts. A tear clings to her lashes before rolling down her lined face. "Abraxas…"
"Dying in this miserable room is the worst part. I can stand the pain. But it's so bloody boring, Dru."
This isn't the way he would want to go. Abraxas has always been so bold and full of life. He deserves so much better than this, but there is nothing she can do to fix it.
"At least I was able to see you again," he says with a shaky sigh, his fingers weakly brushing over her hand. "It won't be long now. I can feel it in my bones."
"Hush. You aren't dying."
He laughs, the sound dry and strained. He winces. "Then why have you come to visit me after all this time?"
She opens her mouth, but there are no words for this. They both know exactly why she is here. She's put off coming, even after Acanthia's bitter letters, accusingly telling her that Abraxas has been calling her name in his sleep. Perhaps that is why she's moved him to the hospital and out of Malfoy Manor.
After weeks of worrying, she could not stay away much longer. There is some piece of her that has brought her here, a piece that has never stopped longing for Abraxas.
"I shall never stop loving you, Druella," he says, releasing her hand at last before falling back, sinking into the elevated mattress. "Until my final breath, it will always be you."
She wants to grab his hand again and promise him that everything will be okay, but she cannot lie to him. Instead, she just stands there, watching has his eyes close and his breathing slows. Eventually, his snores fill the room, but she doesn't leave.
Maybe it is her Abraxas in that bed after all.