She ventured through that passageway the next week, in search of a way that would make her more enticing to him. She bought herself new clothes, new jewellery and redid her hair; all in the hopes that it would make a difference in the way that he looked at her.
But it didn't.
And the conversation stayed the same, combing through trivial banter about nothing in particular, shying away from the topics that made them reach for another bottle.
She began to think she was tying herself to an anchor set to be thrown overboard, destined to sink, and sink alone without a need for her to be there.
But when a familiar stony face wandered into the small stone pub, and sat itself down at their table, she realised just how fortunate she was to have his "cheery" company.
"Well hello folks! Long time no see! Fancy seeing you both here." Snigger. Stony Face never was one for hiding his contempt well.
He sneered and stared at the wall past Stony Face, ignoring his presence.
She narrowed her eyes in frustration. Being the more civilized of the two, she decided it would only be polite to reply.
"Yes, well, not many people wander up to this side of town. We happened upon each other, decided to catch up, have a drink. What about yourself?"
There was not a shred of warmth in her voice.
Stony Face smirked at her wickedly.
"I'm here on business. Though I hear…you are both living around this area." Stony Face chuckled. "Your families betrayals have you both fallen from grace and now you live, well, here. How on earth did you wind up like this?"
It was all she could do to keep her anger under wraps.
He, however, was not holding it in as well.
Stony Face left the pub with a limp, a couple of broken knuckles and a possible concussion.
She was left to help clean up his wounds while he drank away the pain with more whiskey.
"That was uncalled for, you know."
He winced as she wiped the blood carefully from around his eye. He frowned at her.
"What was uncalled for?"
"Hitting him so vigorously. And punching him in the head. You didn't need to do that."
He shrugged and took a small sip of the amber liquid.
"Shit happens. He could've watched his tongue better."
She shook her head and bandaged up his hand. His hands felt soft and smooth against her own, his own warmth radiating onto her.
"Un-fucking-fortunately, he's right, you know."
She stopped bandaging his hand and looked up at him, her wide eyes hitting his hard gaze.
"What on earth do you mean?"
He got up from his chair, taking the bottle of whiskey with him, and stood by the large fireplace not far from their table. He stared into it for a few quiet moments, taking a swig from the bottle here and there.
She watched him, his pale skin reflecting the shadow of the flame on his face. His silver eyes that were once empty, radiated in that moment life, drive and anger.
She was looking at a man who's shell was slowly beginning to fall away. In the meantime, in her eyes, he was the most colourful, most exciting and invigorating shell you could find. She wanted to climb inside and be wrapped in his presence.
He turned to look at her.
"Everyone looks at me as this abomination of a person. Not cruel enough to be considered bad. Not wholesome enough to be considered good. I'm stuck in this purgatory of nothingness, where it's easier for me to disappear from that world and start fresh out here than to try and make a name for myself in a place that, for one reason or another, hates me."
His anger and anguish had finally settled on a person. For some time it had flown in the air around him, like a bubble of noxious gas between him and any human contact. He hadn't thought for a fleeting second that it would be the beautiful blonde who sat herself down at his table one night and decided to share with him her company. Though, really, he didn't mind it was her. He could definitely think of worse people.
She looked on at him, taken aback at his outburst of emotion. She wrung her hands together, thinking of the right thing to say. A million thoughts ran through her mind, but nothing right came ahead for her to say.
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
She felt even stupider saying it out loud.
He smiled at her. A large, genuine smile, and she melted, feeling like she would fall to the floor if she wasn't holding onto the chair for support.
"You are sorry? Love, if anyone's sorry, it should be this dolt over here who think it's appropriate to blurt such things out."
He laughed wickedly at himself, taking a large gulp of whiskey.
"I'm wandering around in circles. The only reason I have a glimmer of something resembling normalcy is because you pried your way into my life and pushed me out of my comfort zone. I might get a proper job soon because of you, you know."
"Really? That's great! I told you you'd get something."
He shrugged, and walked over to her, handing her the bottle.
"Does it feel good, knowing you've made an impact in my life? See you tomorrow"
He winked at her before draining his glass he left on the table, picking up his jacket with his good hand and slowly making his way to the exit, leaving her watching his silhouette in the firelight.
"You have no fucking idea"
There was a dance on one evening that they were there together. The pub was loud and crowded, and took up most of the room that they reveled in the darkness of.
They sat silently in the back corner table, watching on as the strangers danced together in a flurry of colourful shirts and dresses, with a mix of elation and alcohol.
"That could be us, you know"
He scrunched up his face in distaste
"Er, fuck off. I'm not doing that. They look ridiculous!"
"Liar. We both took dance lessons when we were younger."
"Doesn't count"
"Yes it does"
"Doesn't"
"Does"
"Doesn't"
"Does"
Exasperated sigh.
"Fine. If we have one dance, then will you shut your trap?"
He pulled her up from her chair in their dark corner of isolation and onto the makeshift dance-floor, where the light was bright and they were exposed, and danced to a quiet, slow number.
He grasped her arms, placing them around his neck, and placed his own on her waist, looking soulfully into her eyes are they moved slowly around the dance-floor.
"I hate this."
"Deal with it. Dancing is nice sometimes, you prude."
He glared down at her menacingly.
"I am not a prude."
She smirked.
"No. You're just no fun."
And with that, they silently danced deliciously slow around the dance-floor, mimicking each others steps like the night follows the day, aligned together perfectly until the song ended.
Disentangling themselves from each other, they locked eyes, deep in thought about the other. About how they had ended up here. About what it meant for them. Without realising it, the band began a new, upbeat tune that had the strangers dancing circles around them.
She tore her eyes away, looking around the frivolous dancing.
"One more, please?"
He rolled his eyes and took her hand. The spark was electrifying. He pulled her into the circle of dancing bodies, and they moved joyfully together, laughing freely, letting their cold exterior shells melt away from them for a few precious moments.
He watched her, face lit up brightly, eyes closed enjoying the freedom of releasing herself into nothing. After a few moments she opened her eyes and looked straight at him. She watched his silver eyes follow her hands as she raised both his and hers above their heads, and spun around in perfect tune to the music.
He rang out, his deep laughter musical and full bodied, identifying that he was truly enjoying himself.
She was certain she couldn't love him more than she did in that moment.
A/N: All comments welcome!