Lavellan sleeps. I watch, sometimes.
It was easier, when I could fade. When I could make her miss me. I sat on the sofa and watched. She had nightmares, sometimes, and I tried to help - opening a window, easing her mind, helping her sleep. Now, it's less easy.
Once, something strange happened. I... woke up. I never slept before - didn't know that I could. There was a blanket on me, and Lavellan…
She sat at her desk, humming. She had seen me, she knew. I was afraid, but she wasn't. Sitting in silence, staring, lips pressed against fingers, ink stained. Dark, tangled hair. Smelling of cinnamon. Smelling of -
"Sorry, did I wake you?" she asks, and I wonder if she did.
"I don't know."
A smile, slow and serene, touches her face. She's happy, but why? "Did you sleep well?" She moves to my side and fusses - moving hair, touching skin, smoothing cloth. The air is cold, I shiver, and suddenly the windows are shut. Flame flickers in her palm, dulls to embers, presses against my neck.
I know what I want, then. Racing, pulsing, frightened feeling - air heavy like smoke, liquid burning in my skin. I had felt others' wanting, but to feel the wanting tear through was... suffocating. Gasping, reeling, a shudder down my spine, a rattle in my skull -
"Cole? Is everything okay? Did I burn you? My fire spells aren't that good," Lavellan sputters, startled, scared, but her feelings barely penetrate. My thoughts are too loud, too narrow. It frightens me.
"I - I need to talk to Varric," I say. Lavellan yells after, but I'm in the hallway. My face is in a frame, but I don't see it. I need to be gone. I need to leave.
In front of Varric, I cry. Everything feels too sharp. Everything hurts. Muscles tender, stomach aching, lungs rasping. Varric says to eat, and I eat. It makes me feel better. He tells me about eating and drinking and things I never thought to think.
"Falling asleep must've started everything else," he says. I tell him about Lavellan, and he frowns. "You should probably keep that to yourself, kid." It sounds like he's laughing, but he isn't. He hits me on the back. "It sounds like you've just got a little crush on the Inquisitor. Nothing to be ashamed of, but I wouldn't say anything to her about it. I don't think she'd be too receptive."
"Because of Neralan."
"Neralan? Is that someone I should know?" Varric wonders, and I tell him what I knew. What I heard. He looks sad. "I, ah, didn't know about that. Even more reason why you should keep this to yourself."
"But what do I do?"
"The same thing anyone does when they have a crush on someone not interested: absolutely nothing," Varric snorts. I tell him I don't understand, and Varric sighs. "All you can do is be nice. Be her friend. Don't know if that'll help anything, but it's worth a shot."
It hurts, but I try not to cry anymore. It makes Varric sad.