Apologies! I had something else here first, but I felt like using Liam and Robert to get Jasper back into the Palace wasn't really believable. Not yet, anyway. So I took it down, first to edit, and eventually it turned into chapter 8 and this entirely new chapter came to life. I also think this one fits the last chapter better. Not yet edited, haven't really had the time yet. But I'm planning on editing this and updating either Obliquity or both before next weekend. Bear with me!

Also, added one tiny, tiny sentence to the prologue: 'I don't need you anymore, Jasper,' she said, deliberately slow. 'I don't want anything you have to offer. There's nothing to fix or make up for. I just want you gone. Please.'

Chapter 5. Message received

'Still here, then?'

And he rolled his eyes, annoyed, seeing her sitting on his kitchen counter, sipping from a bottle of Heineken and looking for all purposes like she owned the damn place.

She looked a lot better than a couple of nights ago, when she had been coming down from her high, complaining of a severe hangover and using him as her personal slave. Bring me this; bring me that; Frost, I'm thirsty; Frost, I'm hungry, and basically Frost, everything. He'd nursed her through the day with the intention of dropping her home as soon as she was able to walk straight again, but unfortunately, as he had just concluded, she was still here. Curse her.

'Yes, I'm still here,' Poppy said, offering him her cheek so he could kiss it. He opted for a sloppy one on the mouth and she smirked.

'Definitely still here,' she grinned. 'But unfortunately, so are you. Which begs the question why you are not at the Palace yet.'

And he was not having this discussion with her again, because she had been busting his balls in the morning before he left for work and she had been bitching about it when he had his tongue up her vagina and it was bloody all she could talk about the past few days, so he wasn't doing it again.

He was going to grab a beer, sit down on his sofa with his feet on the table, and Poppy had better made him dinner and should keep her mouth firmly shut, because he was not, definitely not, talking about Eleanor, again.

'Oh come on, Frost,' Poppy grinned, jumping down from the counter. 'It's been four days, already.'

He knew.

Four days of constantly hearing how he should text the Princess, how they should talk, how there was unfinished business and oh yeah, also four days of hearing what a fucking arsehole he was.

'You should've been out of my house at least four days ago,' he shot back. He pulled open his refrigerator with a bit more force than was necessary and the bottles in the door clanked together. He grabbed two at once and slammed the door shut again.

'You're starting to overstay your welcome,' he muttered as he walked past her and curse the girl, because she just laughed.

'Don't act like a child,' she said, following him into the living room.

And there was no escaping her.

She sat down in front of him, planted her ass on the table, obstructing his view of the telly and forcing him to look at her. He did so, but not before rolling his eyes excessively. The Magpies against the Spurs game was still on and he had planned on watching it in relative peace. Poppy obviously had different plans.

'You need to understand,' Poppy started, 'you really hurt the Princess and she bloody well deserves at least a phone call or a text from you.'

Here she goes again.

'I'm certain she was in love with you' – not a lie, not a lie, only Eleanor was and still is in love with you, Frost – 'and you decided to leave her and honestly, that wasn't very polite of you.'

'The least you owe her is a fucking apology, Frost,' she said. 'And perhaps an explanation.'

Jasper grunted.

She scowled at him and he could see her getting annoyed, but that only made two of them. Four days of this fuckspew was more than enough for him, but apparently Poppy had no intentions of relenting.

Merciless, little bitch.

She snapped her fingers, demanding his attention and he let her ramble, his face impassive, as she went on about decency and his general arseholeness and 'I have the Princess' number for you if you like' or 'you could always call Liam, he'll definitely let you into the palace, even better, I will call him!'.

'We all know you have about as much emotion as my big toe,' she concluded her campaign in favour of the Princess, 'but that still isn't an excuse. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who falls head over heels for someone who doesn't give her the light of day, so you must've given her some hope at one point. Which is even worse, leading a girl and then just leaving her without an explanation. I mean, it's not her fault you weren't ready for commitment.'

And he jumped up. Because really, if there was one person that hadn't been ready to commit, it most definitely wasn't him.

'Not ready for commitment?' he chuckled darkly, leaning practically in Poppy's face and she looked taken aback, but just slightly. 'I wasn't ready for commitment?'

He scoffed, but managed to put a tight hold on his anger, sitting down again.

It wasn't even worth it. Whatever it was.

Poppy smirked then, pleased she had finally gotten a response out of him.

'It's true, Frost,' she said. 'You're not ready for commitment. Not now, not then. You don't feel like anyone deserves an explanation about your actions and you owe no one accountability. You just do you, regardless of what it might do to others. You're not ready to actually put someone else first, besides yourself. Ready to compromise, ready to give, and ready to accept. You're not, Frost, and you damn well know it. You think we'd be in this situation if you were? Casually fucking but not really?'

'Not wanting to commit to you and not being ready to commit are two entirely different things, Poppy,' he spat at her.

The moment the words left his mouth he regretted them, but not for long, because she gave as good as she got and when she told him 'you're just as fucked up as your darling daddy', his temper flared and he almost wanted to strangle her.

Actually just wanted to slam her face into the wall.

'I told you about my father in private,' he said slowly. 'Not for you to use it against me.'

'I am not using it against you,' she sighed exasperated. 'I am trying to prove a point here, Frost.'

'Do you want to become like your father?' she asked. 'Because you're pretty much halfway there.'

'I liked you better when you were still on coke and unable to form a real sentence,' he said. 'Because this crap coming out of your mouth is even worse than what you were spewing a couple of nights ago.'

She jabbed a finger into his chest and all hope of this being over quickly and him being able to just watch the game in fucking peace, flew out of the window.

'Now you listen to me, Jasper Frost,' Poppy started. And if he could knock himself unconscious he would.

'From my point of view you're just as emotionally closed off as your father,' she said. 'And nobody blames you, but you need to remember that you have people around you who cared about you.'

'Besides me,' she added, when he looked at her ruefully and perhaps he wasn't as emotionally closed off as she said he was, because it was entirely too easy to read the loneliness and longing of his face. But if he was lonely, it was his own fault and bloody hell, why couldn't he see that?

'There's Jonathan, and Elisabeth and everyone else from work,' she said. 'And don't forget my mum, who adores you, and believe me when I say the Princess cares about you too.'

'And that's exactly why you need to talk to her,' she nodded, 'because she cares and obviously you still care and I think it would be good for the both of you. Get some closure. Get some closure and don't be afraid to let people in.'

But Jasper scoffed, rolled his eyes, and pushed Poppy aside with his leg. The game was still on.

'Frost,' she started to say, but the coldness of his gaze when he looked at her, shut her up. She had no right. No right to compare him to his father, no right to make him seem like some sort of hermit and definitely no right to pry open that wound again because the Princess damn well could care less about him.

Bloody entitled shrew. She only cared about herself.

Except she didn't but it was so much easier to be angry at her and think of her as heartless, than to admit anything else.

'Jasper,' Poppy said softly. She extended an arm, placed her hand on his. She squeezed softly and unwillingly he tore his eyes away from the telly. Looked at her.

Her expression was guarded but her eyes were as gentle as ever.

He swallowed, because maybe she was right and maybe he needed closure and he definitely knew he shouldn't be afraid of letting people in, but then again, the only person he had ever purposefully let in, had shoved him out of her life without a second glance.

'She's in love with you,' Poppy said and all blood rushed through his ears, because what the fuck, what the fuck was she saying?

Poppy breathed in deeply, had gone and did it and fur fuck's sake, you only managed to keep your promise four days, you silly girl, but she stood tall, staring Jasper straight in the eye.

'She is in love with you,' she repeated slowly and perhaps his brain had exploded for all the response he was giving her, so she continued. Because she had said this, so why not tell everything.

'After we used the coke,' she said, 'we started talking. She about Beck, I about, well, you.'

'She said that Beck had seemed simple compared to you, Frost. Simple and easy compared to you. And don't you think it means something when she compares you with Beck and the other way around?'

And he listened breathlessly.

'We went to a nightclub and we drank more alcohol and there were some pills involved. We did shots, started dancing, had an altogether great time and then there was a bloke.'

She let out a short chuckle.

'There were a lot of blokes actually,' she said. 'But there was only one the Princess found interesting.'

Jasper leaned forward unconsciously and if Poppy noticed, she had the propriety not to mention it.

'They danced together and I think there was some kissing involved, but only a couple of minutes later, give or take, I lost sight of them. It didn't really bother me, because I was drunk and high and whatever.'

Jasper swallowed slowly.

'But then there was some commotion near the toilets and I was looking for her anyway. The bloke from before was there, cursing. Think he said something about a whore or something. Don't really remember.'

And Jasper was cursing at her in his head too, for dragging this out. But for all her goods intent, Poppy still wasn't sure.

'She didn't want me to tell you, you know,' she said. 'Made me promise, but we all know how good I am at keeping things from you. Or keeping promises in general, for that matter.'

'She was on the floor,' she said softly. 'Her hair all messed up, crying. I don't know.'

Tightened her hold on his hand, because she felt him tense and she saw anger beginning to boil up.

'He didn't do anything to her,' she said quickly, 'nothing she didn't want him to do.'

And he calmed down, but not really, because the rise and fall of his chest was still uneven and the tenseness of his jaw could slice rock.

'She was crying and feeling fucked up,' Poppy said, 'because he wasn't you.'

He stared at a spot next to her head, right above the telly.

'She loves you,' Poppy continued. 'Still does. Told me as much. Said she was in love with my boyfriend. Because, yeah, that is how much you screwed her over. How much we fucked her over. What was the fucking use of telling her I was your girlfriend? No fucking use except to hurt her.'

'I mean, she loves you, Frost.'

For fuck's sake, how desperate she sounded.

And the more she thought of it, the angrier she got. Telling the Princess Poppy was his girlfriend and then turning around almost fucking her on the balcony. Saying he has no feelings for her, but then doing a bloody good job of showing her how deep those feelings ran. Up against the window.

Maybe Eleanor was right.

'You love playing games, don't you?' she asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Jasper wasn't prepared for her change of tone.

'What?' he said and the word tumbled clumsily from his lips.

'You play games,' Poppy repeated slowly.

'She begged me not to tell because she thought you were playing games with her,' she explained. 'She thinks you never cared about her and that everything, whatever that is, was a game.'

'Did you play games, Frost?' she asked. 'Did you really apply for a job at the Palace with the intention of screwing her over? And even if you did, do you really not have an ounce of decency in your body to apologise for whatever the fuck you put her through? So maybe she can start healing and get over you, since you claim you're already over her.'

'Are you, Jasper? Are you over her?'

And such a surge of anger swept through him, because who the fuck was she to question him about his feelings for the Princess, when she had been on his cock just this morning?

'Shut up, Poppy' he snapped. 'Don't stick your bloody nose where it doesn't bloody belong. I told you I was done with it, I told you I didn't want you hanging out with her. I'm not going back to that life, so drop it.'

He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. She was practically in his face, only she wasn't, standing a couple of feet away, watching him. The walls were closing down on him. The air was thick. He needed to breathe. He needed out. He just –

He got up, breathing heavily. Stumbled towards the balcony, groaning when she followed him.

Of course she would follow him. Fucking pest.

He stretched out in the hammock, hand on his forehead, and thank god she didn't impose even more by joining him. Instead she opted for leaning against the railing, looking at him calmly, while he was this close to losing his shit.

'Jasper,' she started, but he clenched his fist and her voice faltered.

'Give me a minute,' and he cursed the hoarseness of his voice.

He needed more than a minute, he was certain, because apparently ten months hadn't even been enough to get over this fucking shit. But for now he focused on his breathing, focused on clearing his mind and he knew that as soon as she could she would start digging into him again and shoving her opinions in his face, whether he liked it or not.

Breathed in slowly, rubbing his hands against his face.

Breathed out.

And the more he thought about it, there was only one way to shut Poppy up. Perhaps she even deserved to know. She was his best friend and unfortunately she had managed to successfully make herself, quite annoyingly, part of this, apparently, unfinished story. Maybe it was time he said it out loud, instead of hiding it away in the darkest corners of his mind.

He started massaging his temples and sighed.

'It wasn't a game. I loved her.'

It seemed wrong.

'I love her,' he corrected and speaking those words made him feel so tired, but he pressed on.

'I came to the Palace for the wrong reasons and the Princess was the only reason I stayed. Even after I fucked up I stayed, because I couldn't leave her without her knowing I was sorry. That family, her and Liam and even the Queen Mother and the other bodyguards, became my family too. My life. I would've given everything to just stay with her and work towards getting her to forgive me, forever, infinitely, if it meant I could still see her.'

'She didn't want that,' and his tone had changed, because he seemed almost angry. 'I wanted to give her everything and she didn't want it. So instead she just took it all and then threw it away. And losing her, meant losing Liam and losing my friends basically my life.'

'I had to start from scratch, Poppy,' he said. 'And now I have you. I have a job and I know people that see me as a friend' – and if Poppy thought it was a peculiar choice of words, she said nothing – 'and I have a fucking life.'

He covered his eyes with his hand, chuckled humourlessly.

'I have a life,' he snorted. 'How pathetic do I sound?'

'It doesn't matter anyway,' he continued. 'Because I have a life. And I cannot go back there, Poppy. She stripped me of everything I had and I cannot put myself in that position again.'

'But she loves you too,' Poppy countered. 'She loves you just like you love her. Doesn't that mean anything?'

'No,' Jasper replied. 'She thinks she loves me. Because she knows I love you. She can't have that, because that would mean her little toy has moved on. She's playing with you, Poppy. Don't let it get to you.'

And if it wasn't all that tragic, Poppy would've laughed out loud.

Playing games. Playing with you.

Fucking idiots they were, thinking the same of each other.

'This could be an epic love story,' she said. 'The sort unknown to mankind. The least you can do is talk to her. See what she has to say. Perhaps you took everything she had, when you walked away from her. Everybody always leaves her. She must've been terrified. Of course she would tell you she didn't want what you had to offer. I mean, you screwed her over first, let's not forget that.'

'I don't want an epic love story,' he said. 'I'm happy with you, Pops. Don't need nothing else.'

'Frost, what are you saying,' she said, shaking her head. 'Everybody wants an epic love story.'

But he arched an eyebrow, beckoned her closer, and when she walked towards his hammock, he took one of her hands in his.

'I'm not everybody,' he said. 'I only want you.'

He looked up at Poppy, something resembling a smile on his face.

'I'm choosing you over her.'

It could've been so romantic and perfect, but it wasn't and Poppy damn well knew it.

'I never fucking asked you to do that,' she exclaimed. 'The fuck are you spewing? Have you heard anything of what I just said? You need to fucking choose you!'

And for fuck's sake, she was getting angry. Because what happened to not wanting to commit?

'You're a bloody disgrace, Frost,' she scoffed.

'A disgrace for choosing you?' he said. 'For saying that I'm not going back there? You think I don't know what you feel for me? You think I don't care?'

'Don't assume, Frost,' she snarled. 'And get your fucking act together. Ever since that birthday party you've been acting like a bloody prick and I fucking know it had everything to do with her, so don't fucking stand here, lying to me and telling me you're choosing me and all that bullshit.'

'I don't love you like that, Jasper,' she said and bloody hell, she did. 'I love your cock and I love your body, but you're too broken and damaged emotionally to be of any use for me beyond physically. You and her, you're perfect for each other. She's out there fucking some random bloke in the bathroom, you're out here fucking me and besides your seed, spilling all your brokenness inside of me.'

And she was trying to make him angry on purpose, he thought, because that was the only way Japer Frost could be pushed to do something, or maybe she wasn't and then he couldn't pretend he was slightly hurt by her words.

She needed to shut it. His head was spinning again, his beer dead, and for fuck's sake, Eleanor.

He wanted to push past her, go back inside, find something stronger to drink than this, but she blocked his path. He grabbed her arms, to shove her aside, but the motion was so familiar and he remembered a different time when he had gripped the Princess like that.

Better times.

He wished he could go back there.

Stay there.

'Jasper, you're hurting me,' Poppy said and her voice sounded clipped.

His hands were wrapped tightly around her upper arms and he let her go as if burned, jumping backwards, away from him. She followed him, stepping forward, reaching out, because no matter what she said or what he did, she cared, so so much, but he turned from her.

'Poppy, please, just leave, just for a little bit,' and he never begged, but it sounded a lot like he was now.

She stared at him, assessing. Then she seemed to make up her mind.

'Gladly,' she said coldly and she didn't even slam the door behind her, which let Jasper know her anger wasn't feigned. She had always been a dignified hothead.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. Exhausted.

She couldn't do this to him. Not again.

His phone was lying next to him on the small balcony table. Tempting.

He picked it up, toyed with it a couple of moments, contemplative, waiting for the beat of his heart to slow down. Waiting so he could think rationally again.

Waiting.

And then.

We need to talk.

Message sent. Dim the screen.

A couple of seconds later the screen lighted up again.

Message received.