A/N: I hope you didn't think I was devaluing women in the last chapter—that was /not/ my intent. I wanted to leave it up to the reader to put together their own conclusion on who was to blame, and who did what wrong. Honestly, in my mind everyone did everything wrong. But that's the thing—people aren't perfect, they make haste decisions based on emotions they can't control. Beatrice shouldn't of gotten so drunk and shouldn't of kissed Fritz, and he shouldn't of kissed her back. But like I said—people make mistakes. Mistel shouldn't of jumped to conclusions and punched Fritz, either, but haven't you ever felt so jealous or angry that you acted irrationally? I don't think I need to justify last chapter, I'm sure you're smart enough to understand what I was trying to say.
Thank you for the reviews! Please no flames, though, my little heart can't take it. Constructive criticism is fine. I'm sorry if I haven't gotten back to you, but I usually do! So please keep them coming, they make my day.
Chapter Five
Beatrice awoke with a start and quickly opened her eyes only to abruptly shut them again. She was in bed with a man—that much was clear. She felt her stomach flip and a nauseating feeling residing in it. To make matters worse, she was awfully hungover. Fantastic, she thought sarcastically to herself. She could hardly remember anything that had happened last night, and that only made her feel even more sick to her stomach. What have I done?
She loosened her arm that was around the unknown man and inhaled in his scent—it wasn't difficult, her head was resting on his chest. He smelt of...herb tea? She knew it wasn't Fritz, he always smelled like he had just gotten done mowing the lawn. She craned her neck up slightly and slowly opened one eye, then quickly squeezed them both shut tight. It was Mistel, and he was grinning down at her mischievously with an even more mischievous glint in his eyes. She was utterly mortified. Oh, gods, what have I done?
She let go of him and turned on her back, putting both of her hands over her still shut eyes. She groaned loudly, despite her head pounding in her ears. She heard Mistel hastily ask, "Beatrice, are you all right?"
"Am I wearing clothes?" she hastened to ask instead of answering the question. Please tell me I'm wearing clothes.
"Yes, you're wearing clothes," she heard him chuckle.
"Did we...?" she trailed, not really sure if she wanted to know the answer.
"No!" she heard him defensively say. "Can't you remember anything from last night? And won't you please open your eyes?"
"No, and no—I think I'd rather keep them shut, thank you very much," she replied simply.
"Beatrice, please," he sighed. "Open them so I can talk to you properly. You are being absurd."
"Nope," she said in a sing-song voice.
"If you don't open them I'm afraid I'm going to have to force you," Mistel said teasingly, and she shook her head violently in response. She felt the bed shift as he put his legs on either side of hers, gently grabbing her arms while he hoovered above her. She felt heat quickly rise in her face. What did he think he was doing? When did he get so much confidence?
He pried her hands from her eyes and gently pinned them to the bed. He gazed down at her with a devilish grin and she noticed his violet eyes shone with desire. Desire? Her heart started to beat rapidly in her chest. If her face was pink before she knew it was bright crimson now. Was he lying when he said nothing had happened between them last night? Perhaps she should have been more specific, surely something had to of happened between them for him to be acting like this.
"Ah, now isn't that better? Now I can see that adorable blush of yours," he teased, his eyes searching every inch of her face.
"Mistel, uh, would you mind getting off of me? I thought you wanted to talk properly, and surely this isn't what you meant by properly, correct?" she asked nervously, her voice cracking every couple of words.
"Erm—of course, please excuse me," he replied simply, crawling off of her and laying back down again. He leaned on his side so that he faced her, his arm propped up on his pillow with his hand on his head. "So what do you remember?" he wondered, his smirk returning.
"Well, I remember having dinner with Fritz," she began, and she saw him wince out of the corner of her eye. "Then we...well, had some wine... After that he walked me home and..." She didn't need to say more, as the memories of the past night resurfaced and ran through her mind with a relentless passion. "Oh my stars!" she gasped, heaving slightly. She felt her stomach turn once more and leaned over the side of the bed, silently thanking that there was a waste bucket there as she felt vomit make its way up her throat and to her mouth, violently spewing it out and into the bucket.
She felt Mistel grab a hold of her hair and hold it back as she continued to throw up. She heard him laugh loudly, "I'm glad I thought to put a bucket there, otherwise we would have quite a big mess on our hands!"
She vomited once more then dry heaved a couple of times. They already had a big mess on their hands, how could he not see that—and why was he being so nice to her after all she did to him? After all she did in general? She remembered him saying that he forgave her, but thinking about it now she didn't really believe it was possible to forgive a person for such a thing. She wouldn't of forgiven him that easily if the tables had been turned. Was he really that infatuated with her? The thought filled her with joy, which quickly dissolved into self-loathing. She didn't deserve any kind of happiness.
"Do you have a towel or something I could wipe my mouth off with?" she asked. She didn't want him to see her like this. She didn't want to disgust him. If he really thought her to be so beautiful she didn't want to distort the image of her in his head; he had already seen her drunk, and she didn't want him to think any less of her than he probably already did.
"I have some tissues underneath my pillow, will that suffice?" he returned.
"Um..." she trailed, her head still hung over the side of the bed. She could only think of one reason why a man would have tissues underneath his pillow, and if her assumption was correct she didn't want to wipe that across her mouth.
"I swear they are unused! I keep them there just in case. You never know when a hungover women will be hurling over the side of your bed," he teased, laughing loudly. She felt him let go of her hair and a moment later his hand appeared next to her head with a couple of tissues. She grabbed them and wiped them across her mouth a couple of times, making sure to get the corners as to not miss any. She threw the tissues into the bucket and spit once into it in order to get the vile taste out of her mouth.
She bent her body back around to see Mistel grinning at her. Why was he so happy? This whole situation was wrong, everything was wrong. How could he not see that she didn't deserve to be smiled at, that she didn't deserve his kindness? Iris was right for hating her. She was an awful, selfish person.
"You even look adorable right after you've hurled," Mistel said, his grin widening.
She had had enough of his kindness. She abruptly jumped out of his bed and started pacing back and forth, her hands going to her brunette locks around her face to tightly grasp them and harshly yank on them. She cried out desperately, "Mistel, what have I done? What have you done? What in the world are we going to do?"
His face dropped as he murmured, "I don't think we need to do anything, really."
"Of course we do," she scoffed, shooting him a nasty look. "We need to apologize to Fritz."
She saw him wince again. "I really wish you wouldn't say that word," he muttered. "I would hate to have to ask you to wash your mouth out with soap—although after all that vomiting it may be needed."
"Oh, shut up Mistel!" she spat. "He deserves an apology from both of us. Now would you please get my dress so I can move along with what is surely going to be a horrible day."
His eyes widened in shock at her outburst and he stammered, "O-of course, I'll be only a moment." He quickly climbed out of his bed and left the room. Not even a minute later he returned with her farm dress in hand, his face twisted into a displeased look. He handed her the dress as he uttered, "Klaus is here, and he would like to speak with you once you've finished getting changed."
"Wonderful," she said sarcastically. "That's exactly what I need right now—to be scolded; as I have no doubt that's why he wants to speak to me."
"He does look a bit angry..." Mistel trailed, then averted his eyes as his face turned solemn. "Beatrice...are you angry with me?"
"No, Mistel, I'm not," she sighed loudly. "I'm a little disappointed in you, but not nearly as disappointed as I am with myself. I don't like violence, but I can't say I blame you for what you did. If I had been in your shoes...well, I think I may have done the same."
"Please don't be disappointed in yourself. I hate to see you looking so down," he said softly, looking back into her eyes. "You made a mistake, as everyone is bound to do once in a while. You will learn from it and grow as a person—so please, no more self-loathing. You are much more beautiful when you're happy." He gave her a crooked smile, and she scowled at him.
"Stop being so kind to me! I don't deserve your kindness. Iris hates me, Klaus is angry with me, and Fritz probably hates me, as well. I haven't the slightest clue why you don't hate me, as you have every right to hate my guts and never speak a word to me again!" she boomed, and he started. She even startled herself by how loud she spoke.
He hung his head low and solemnly muttered, "As much as I want to hate you, I just can't bring myself to... It may seem like Iris hates you now, but she'll come around—I'll talk to her, so don't give that a second thought. I'll leave you alone to allow you to get changed. Once you're done please meet me in the apartment. I'll stay with you to make sure Klaus doesn't scold you too harshly—you don't deserve a repeat of what Iris said to you last night."
She gave a small nod and Mistel walked over to his dresser, opening drawers and taking articles of clothing out of each. He picked up his boots from the ground and looked at her for a moment to flash her another smirk before he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. She did think she deserved to be scolded a thousand times for what she had done, but didn't want to upset him anymore with her own self hatred. She quickly changed out of the borrowed pajamas and into her dress, which was still a bit damp. She took a couple of moments to breathe deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves; she was so anxious she trembled to the very ends of her fingertips.
After one more deep breath she opened the door to see Klaus and Iris sitting at the dining area, then not even a second later Mistel appeared from Iris's room—apparently they had finished changing at the same time. Klaus and Iris both looked at her in unison, not even glancing in Mistel's direction. Klaus stood and straightened out his tailcoat, and Mistel walked over to her and grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze.
Klaus cleared his throat and slightly narrowed his eyes at her, then firmly said, "Bee, I have to be frank—I'm very disappointed in you. When you told me about your dinner with Fritz I warned you to be careful. I was young and reckless once and I know all too well how young men think. Not only that, Iris has told me that you were the one who initiated the kiss. If you fancied him and weren't inebriated it would be a completely different story—but you don't fancy him, do you?" Klaus's eyes looked to their linked fingers for a moment.
"No, Klaus, I don't," she murmured, and Mistel gave her hand another squeeze.
"I also warned you not to stay over a man's house," Klaus said, then looked to Mistel and harshly said, "I hope you were able to keep your hands to yourself."
"You're one to speak," Mistel spat. "The walls are rather thin, you know—so don't think for a moment that I can't hear you whispering my sister's name like a prayer. And you don't even have the decency to court her properly. It's been nearly a year and a half since you've been sleeping with her, don't you think it's about time to give her a ring to show her how much you care for her? Or do you not care for her at all? Do you just intend on stringing her along until you get bored of screwing her?"
"Mistel, that's enough!" Iris boomed, loudly slapping her hands on the table and quickly standing up. "Me and Klaus's personal business is none of your concern. We are two consenting adults who will do what we wish." Iris had said it angrily, but the way she looked at her and Mistel made her feel like Iris may have been jealous, that perhaps she wished Klaus would hold her hand and show affection as Mistel did with her.
Beatrice cast her eyes to Klaus to see his face had turned beet red from what she assumed was a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and guilt. "Let's please return to the subject at hand," Klaus huffed, refusing to look Mistel in the eyes. "You all need to apologize to each other, Fritz included." He turned to Iris and said, "And Iris, I think you owe an apology to Bee, as well. She may have hurt your brother and made an awful mistake, but she didn't deserve your harsh words."
Iris crossed an arm under her chest and pressed her breasts together, making them appear larger than they already were while she whined, "But love..."
Klaus's eyes lingered on her cleavage for a moment while his cheeks turned a pink hue. He quickly composed himself and shook his head, then growled, "But nothing, Iris. You have made plenty of mistakes at Bee's age, perhaps even worse mistakes. Do I need to remind you of them?"
"Don't you dare," Iris hissed, glaring at Klaus. "Unless you would like for this to be taken away from you for a season." She gestured up and down her torso as she said it, her hand faltering at her cleavage—which of course caught Klaus's eye.
Mistel looked at Beatrice and chuckled under his breath, beaming at her. Klaus muttered, "Please don't threaten to take our acts of love away, it's very unbecoming of you."
"Our acts of love? More like acts of lust," Iris scoffed, crossing her arms underneath her chest and pushing them up once more.
"Ah-hem," Beatrice coughed so that they would acknowledge that her and Mistel were still in the room. She had never been more uncomfortable in her entire life. "I was just about to get Fritz to apologize to him, would you like to come with me Mistel? Just get it over and done with, you know?" She would go alone, but Mistel's hand in hers was comforting her and she really didn't want to let go anytime soon.
Mistel huffed loudly and Klaus said, "No need. I already told him to come here after he's done at the clinic. He should be here any minute. In the mean time, I believe Iris and Bee have some talking they need to do."
Before Iris could say anything Beatrice frantically spewed out, "Iris, I am so, so sorry. I didn't ever intend for it to happen, it just did. I know I'm an awful, selfish person and you have every right to hate me, and I don't expect for you to forgive me anytime soon. I just wish you wouldn't detest me like so, if only you knew how much I hate myself right now..." She felt her eyes fill with water, and a single tear dripped down her face.
Iris's facial expression softened and she sighed, "Perhaps I was a little too hard on you... It was one mistake—although a very bad one—but if you promise and mean it this time then maybe I can find it in my heart to forgive you. I really do care for you Bee, and I only want what's best for you." Iris looked at Mistel and smiled, then said, "And I think I know who's best for you." She looked back at her and asked, "So, do you promise, and mean it this time? Will we never have to go through this unpleasantness again?"
Beatrice felt a slight heat rise in her face, and looked to Mistel to see his cheeks tinted pink. "Yes, I promise," she said firmly. "If I ever do anything so foolish again you have my permission to slap me as hard as you can."
"Well, let's hope it never has to come to that," Iris returned, but she smiled brightly at her. Beatrice felt like an elephant had been lifted off of her chest. She wasn't sure if she would ever even have the nerve to return to their house again if Iris abhorred her like she did just moments ago, and it had made her sick to her stomach thinking that she wouldn't be able to see Mistel so often anymore.
Mistel smirked at her and squeezed her hand again, saying, "See, I told you she would come around. So please, won't you smile for me?"
She flashed him her brilliant smile, then let go of his hand wrapped her arms around his torso to tightly embrace him—she couldn't help herself, she just felt so happy. She noticed his body was tense, and his arms hung hesitatingly at his sides. After a moment she felt his body relax and he gently put his arms around her waist, leaning his head on hers and letting out a small sigh. She could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, which only made her own heart beat that much quicker.
Her moment of happiness abruptly ended as she heard the door open. She knew Mistel's had been, too, as his body tensed up again. She was frozen in shock for a moment and she felt the color drain from her face—she knew exactly who it was. She should have known not to allow herself to feel happy—it never lasts. Mistel released her and to her surprise tightly grasped her hand again, standing so close to her that their arms touched. It was abundantly clear that Mistel knew who it was, as well, as his face twisted into a scowl at the sound of hearing clumsy footsteps run up the stairs.
Beatrice turned her head to where she knew Fritz would be appearing at any moment, and saw that Klaus had his eyes fixated on the floor with a hand over his face to conceal his blush—she figured he must have been embarrassed at watching her and Mistel hugging. Iris, though, was looking at them both with an amused expression sprawled across her face, beaming brightly at the both of them.
Fritz rounded the corner and they all looked at him in unison. Beatrice gasped loudly at the sight of him—he looked absolutely awful. His nose had several bandages over it and he had two black eyes. He looked downright miserable and he solemnly sighed, "Hiya, guys." He looked to Klaus and Iris and said, "Morning, Mister Klaus and Miss Iris."
Iris's face twisted into a displeased look and she glared at Fritz for a moment as she harshly said, "Please, Fritz, call me Iris. The 'Miss' is hardly necessary, do I look as old as Miss Veronica to you?"
Fritz's face turned bright crimson and Klaus shot Iris a glare before turning his attention back to Fritz. "So, what did Marian say about your injuries?"
"The doc said it's just a broken nose...but apparently you get two black eyes when you get punched too hard in the nose. I'm homely enough as is, now no girl is ever gonna wanna date me," Fritz muttered, hanging his head.
Iris looked sympathetically at Fritz and said reassuringly, "Dear, please don't be so hard on yourself. Your nose will heal and your black eyes will go away in no time. You're rather adorable with all those freckles, and I hear Angela often visits you... Perhaps you should ask her out on a date?"
"You really think so?!" Fritz exclaimed excitedly, his lips twitching into a goofy smile. Iris smiled back and nodded her head.
Beatrice noticed that Klaus's face distorted in a scowl for a moment, appearing to her that he was jealous at hearing Iris call Fritz's freckles adorable. She looked to Mistel to smile at him, but it quickly turned into a grimace as she noticed that his eyes were narrowed and fixated on Fritz, and she had no doubt they had been that way since he arrived.
"I believe it's time for apologies now," Klaus said, looking to Mistel. "Would you like to go first?"
Mistel said sarcastically, "I'm sorry."
"Sincerely, Mistel, please," Klaus sighed, tightly pinching the bridge of his nose.
Mistel looked away as his face turned mournful. He solemnly uttered, "I truly do apologize for what I have done. I was just so very jealous, and then I thought you had purposely poured wine down poor Beatrice's throat to take advantage of her. I jumped to conclusions, and for that I am sorry. I hope your face heals quickly."
"Thank you, Mistel. That was much more sincere," Klaus said simply.
Fritz gave a slight smile and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Beatrice frantically exclaimed, "I'm so sorry, Fritz! I shouldn't of kissed you when we were drinking, it was foolish of me and I'm so utterly ashamed. I shouldn't of kissed you in general—I'm sorry, I just don't feel that way about you. There was no spark...I hope you feel the same. I hope we can remain friends and that you can forgive me for what I have done..." Because I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself. She felt tears fill her eyes again and started to silently cry. Mistel tightened his grip on her hand and gave her a pained look.
Fritz stammered, "It's o-okay, Bee! P-please don't cry! I shouldn't of ever kissed you in the first place, stupid hormones! And if I would've known you already liked someone I wouldn't of ever asked you to dinner in the first place. I'm so sorry, too. Please, let's stay buds!"
"Like someone?" Beatrice squeaked, feeling her face flare as tears steadily dripped down the sides of her face.
"Well, yeah!" Fritz exclaimed, looking to her and Mistel. "I've never seen you hold hands with anyone before... And you're standing awfully close to each other. I'm pretty sure friends don't hold hands... Or get jealous, either."
Mistel chuckled loudly, "Mind your own business, would you, Fritz?"
Fritz put a hand to his hip as his expression turned into one of discomfort. He mumbled, "Er...That seemed to have struck a nerve. Sorry 'bout that. Didn't know you two didn't—"
Iris cut him off, nervously laughing, "How about me and Klaus take you home now, Fritz? Now that all this unpleasantness is out of the way I think a nice stroll would do us some good. Plus, I think these two need some time to talk alone."
"Uh, yeah, sure," Fritz sputtered, and Iris grabbed him by the hand and led him down the stairs. Klaus huffed loudly, but followed them nonetheless.
Once they heard the door close Mistel let go of her hand and turned to her, then put his hands to her face and wiped away the tears that were still falling with his thumbs. He longingly gazed into her eyes and softly asked, "Beatrice, why are you crying? Everything is fine now, and you know how much it pains me to see you cry."
"Everything's not fine, now," she choked, a sob racking through her body. "No matter how many apologizes are said it doesn't matter. I've hurt you, and in doing so I've hurt myself. You've forgiven me, why? Why would you be such a fool to forgive me? I can't forgive myself, so how can you forgive me?"
"If you say you remember last night then surely you must know why I've forgiven you," Mistel said softly. "Now please, for my sake, no more tears—and no more self-loathing. It's breaking my heart seeing you like this."
"No promises," Beatrice muttered, feeling another tear slide down her cheek. "What do we do now?"
"For now, nothing," Mistel said flatly. "Now is not the right time or place for us to discuss what we need to. I need to open shop, I'm already late as is."
"I understand," Beatrice solemnly uttered, feeling her heart sink into her stomach. She was hoping that he might finally confess his feelings for her properly—not that she felt like she deserved to hear a confession, but she knew that it would make him happy to hear she felt the same; and at this point all she cared for was his happiness.
Mistel softly kissed her forehead and she felt her heart flutter, her spirits instantly lifting by the feeling of his lips on her skin. He pulled away and looked back into her eyes, asking, "How does Tuesday sound to you? I'll close shop that day so we can talk. I'll meet you at the little bridge, say around nine? If that is all right, of course."
"Yes, I think that will do," she mumbled. Tuesday felt like an eternity away to her.
"Please, smile for me before you leave," Mistel said in a desperate tone, still wiping away her tears.
She gave a feigned smile and he said, "No, not like that. A real one."
"Perhaps for a hug..." she trailed. She wanted to feel his warmth surrounding her one more time, hoping it would subside her aching heart if only for a moment.
He let go of her face and gently embraced her, tracing small circles on her back like he did the night before. The feeling immediately filled her with a sense of calmness, one that was unfamiliar and highly welcomed. They stood like that for a moment, and then he pulled away—which only made the aching in her heart worsen. "I would like a smile now, please," he said teasingly, crookedly smiling at her.
She returned his crooked smile, although she had tried her hardest to flash him a brilliant one; but she just couldn't muster up the will. She wanted more than anything to embrace him again, to feel his heart beating against hers and his arms around her. Instead she whispered, "Goodbye, Mistel. I'm looking forward to Tuesday."
"As am I. Farewell, Beatrice. I miss you already, and you haven't even left yet!" Mistel said, beaming at her so brightly she felt her heart speed up. She turned around and quickly left, leaving her heart behind her with him. She knew he would treat it better than she would.
As she walked back to her farm her emotions kept rapidly changing. She would feel awful for one second, then elated the next, which would quickly turn into disgust. She didn't know how to feel, or what to do. Mistel was in love with her, she knew that for certain. No one had ever been in love with her before. No one had ever cared for her so much. No one had ever been pained by seeing her hurt. There was something about that that made her feel warm and comforted in her soul.
But was she in love with him? She couldn't be sure, she had never been in love before. In lust, maybe, but not in love. Yet it hurt so very badly to be apart from him, and hurt even worse to see him in pain. If what she read in books was correct then she was in love—she knew she had to be, otherwise it wouldn't hurt so much. Love may be a beautiful thing, but she also knew it could be cruel and painful. It was cruel and painful.
She never wanted to see the pain in his eyes due to her ever again, she had caused enough trouble. If forgiving herself would make him happy then she would—or at the very least try her hardest. She chuckled dryly to herself. I'm in love, and the books were correct—it does hurt.