Do any of you know the word for the lights you see if you close your eyes and press on your eyelids? I think it sounds vaguely like 'penumbra' but I know that's not it... mugh.

I went to Taiwan for the past fifteen or so days! :D The food was great, visiting my relatives was fabulous, but now I've got school tomorrow, a mound of work on me (and none of it done ofc) and a bunch of jet lag chewing my eyes out. I think I might just keel over here and sleep...If there's a great abundance of typos, that's because I'm typing most of this with my eyes closed and poking the keys to the rhythm of whatever song is in YouTube now...

Review! :D And quite a happy New Year!

He waited until the rise and fall of her chest was more regular, the snores slightly louder in pitch, putting off the inevitable as long as possible.

"I killed him," he said eventually, a soft sound, not much more than the brush of his dry lips meeting each other and releasing the words like bubbles. "You loved him and I killed him because I need you." He repeated himself louder, the words tumbling over themselves in a confused tangle. "I killed him, killed Roderich, down in the dark when I wasn't feeling right, and poisoned my best friend for insulting you. So much bloodshed I've caused, just for you."

He exhaled shakily. "I'm not worthy to have you here with me. I should just go jump now, spare you the misery. I'm not worth a public execution."

The albino sighed again. For a moment, his features appeared to be carved from silver. It was a rare illusion that made him appear this way, and it added a noble cast to his face. If Elizaveta was awake, I'm sure she'd like to see this...

Gilbert reached out to brush her hair away from her curving brows, but she moaned slightly in her sleep and shifted away from him, and he let it fall, propping himself up one elbow instead to look at her. The face he'd obsessed over since childhood. He still couldn't quite believe it, and had a feeling that he probably never would.

"I'm sorry that I've ruined your life just to have you," he whispered, and he bowed his head over her and let two silver splashes fall. "I really shouldn't've killed Roderich, I shouldn't listened to the part of me that wanted you to be happy no matter what, but I was too greedy..."

And to his horror, the warm woman he loved next to him and reared up and slapped him in the face, anger and betrayal contorting those lovely features into a hateful mask. "It was you?" she shrieked, sitting straight up in her nightgown. "You caused my Roderich to die? You sat on him and engraved his chest with NEVER NEVER NEVER? You? You?"

He sat and took it in, the abuse he deserved, the penance for his guilt, the slaps rocking his head back and forth and blooming bright pink roses on his cheek. His eyes looked like chips of blood, melting in warm tears. Nothing gold can stay.

All at once, the energy seemed to drain out of Elizaveta, and she leaned against the wall and covered her face in her hands and sobbed, while Gilbert was frantically wishing to turn back time to a year or so ago and stop his stupid, stupid past self from murdering that pompous noble and ruining his future for the sake of a few hours of sweetness.

After a long silence broken by nothing but the shaking, hiccuping cries, he ventured, "Lady Hedervary?" in the smallest of voices, eyes on the bedsheets.

"Don't touch me," came the muffled voice. And, like three knives to his heart, "How could you?"

After another moment she straightened, and her face took on a hard look.

She strode out of the room, stepping forcefully across the room, and each footfall felt as if it were landing on Gilbert's heart.