Tied.
Chapter 8: Spilled Blood
A/N: This chapter is a glimpse from Bash's view.. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer - Reign does not belong to me.
Sebastian's POV:
The words were ringing in Bash's ears that day as she spoke. He heard them but they rattled off the sides of his mind, echoing back at his ear drums, as if his brain was rejecting them in hopes that it had processed them incorrectly.
All the undeserved pressure, all of Francis' indiscretions, and yet she still wasn't sure of him? She had said that they were so new and that she wasn't sure where their relationship would lead so Sebastian shouldn't base any decisions around it.
But he had known. He had known where their relationship could lead from the moment he had laid eyes on her that first summer. She had been standing on his doorstep like a brave mouse that had ventured close to the lion's den in hopes that her instincts were wrong about his family.
Bash had shaken her hand that day but she had shaken his soul. He had wanted to take her far away from that house full of bitterness and entitlement. Some place safe. He had tried to attribute it to the fact that he could tell she was too good for Francis, too pure in heart. Surely he didn't want his little brother's girlfriend. He was taking care of her. He was being a gentleman.
The day that they had all gone to the beach they had flirted and her insecurities had shown through. She had felt unattractive and immediately he had cursed himself for inviting Sarah. She would have intimidated anyone, simply because she served herself up on a platter like a piece of meat. Mary hadn't realized that what Sarah had done was showcased her own lack of class rather than her abundance of curves.
He had only brought Sarah as a clear distraction for himself. He was working through his sudden attraction to the younger girl and what better way to persuade himself into thinking that it was fleeting than an encounter with a more experienced one?
When Mary had leaned back on her towel in front of him it was all he could do to tear away and join his date. His problems had doubled when he saw Francis put his hands all over her. A jealousy had bubbled up in his stomach and he had hoped that the fire he felt in his cool blue eyes hadn't been obvious when he had interrupted them.
But she had fixed it. She had made him laugh.
He tried to forget about her for a while, and then as they spent more time around each other casually he had committed to the idea of being friends with her. Her presence brought a light into that bleak home. When it was time for him to leave for school again he had mustered enough courage to visit her.
That day when he had given her his phone number she had hugged him and she had smelled so good and felt so very right. It had affirmed his decision to keep in touch with her, but it also scared him to death. He knew that she loved Francis, or at least that she thought she did. She barely knew him and she certainly didn't know his flaws. But her feelings for Francis were enough for Bash to want to keep some distance.
The phone conversations they had while he was away were the highlights of his week. He had always wanted to succeed; it was necessary for him to succeed if he ever wanted to step out of the shadow of his brother. Mary made it more urgent though. If he ever was to have a chance with her, he had to be able to stand on his own. It wasn't just that pressure though; she also encouraged him with her innocence and friendship.
The day Francis had visited they had played golf together. On the 14th hole Francis had started bragging about how his sexual relationship with Mary had been progressing. He used phrases like "finger fucked her" and "tight as hell". He had told about how he tried to corner her into climaxing right there under the dinner table. He had predicted that it wouldn't be long until they "banged".
Francis had thought that his older brother would be proud of him for his sexual prowess. Bash had lost it and pushed Francis up against the golf cart before he realized what he was doing. He caught himself and tried to cover his jealousy with a lecture on abstinence, how innocent Mary was, and how Francis would regret it if he pressured her. The look on his brother's face was one of skepticism though and he could tell that Francis wondered why Bash would be so protective of his girlfriend. That one game of golf had driven an unspoken wedge between them, but at the time Francis had been too young to fully understand.
So had Mary. His reaction had befuddled her. He was so nervous to see her that Christmas after they had been silent towards each other. But it all worked out. He had even driven her home because of the drunken lazy state of his family.
It was fitting really. He had been the one to take care of her. He had been the one to give her a gift that had meaning. When they sat in the car holding hands he knew where he stood with her. It wasn't anything that he could worked up over, but it was friendship. A love of sorts. A dangerous love and one that couldn't be pursued if he valued his relationship with Francis.
She was his best friend. After graduation he had wondered if real life would take over and remove some of the pull she had for him. It hadn't. When he had started a job so close to campus, he had been hopeful but not naïve.
She still had Francis. She was just his friend. A friend that made his insides melt at first sight. A friend that made his days worth living. A friend that could be the catalyst for Catherine removing him from his father's good graces should she turn into more than a friend.
When he had picked her up for dinner that night her curious friends had amused him but he hadn't even noticed them, not really. He had seen Mary standing in that dorm room and it would have been easier to turn away from heaven itself than to look away from her beautiful brown eyes.
That night, with all the wine and the flirting, he had known that he was pushing their boundaries. He had felt it but when she had voiced her confusion he had panicked and couldn't feign ignorance. He had seen her tears and heard her try to voice what he had always hoped for.. that part of her wanted him.
He couldn't watch her cry and not be honest so he heard his words spill from his lips like water and it soothed his nerves but excited him too. He had told her about the torment that he functioned in, that he would always want her but that he would always be willing to be there for her as a friend.
And then she had touched him, kissing him, and a voice kept screaming in his head that they shouldn't but when she pointed out the fact that they'd never take that chance again he had gasped for air and found it on her lips. They had tasted like wine and sweet oxygen to his soul. His mouth had finally known hers and he was amazed at his willpower.
When he told her that he would always be there for her, he wasn't lying. He did want what was best for Francis, and for her. In his heart he had hoped that one night of truth between them would be enough to make her see that he was indeed what was best for her. He didn't want to be with her because she had been unfaithful and didn't see another way. He wanted her to choose him.
He was willing to wait.
When he had heard that Olivia had come back into Francis' life he had wanted to drive there and personally choke him for his stupidity. Olivia was a decent girl but Francis had a queen that he didn't deserve.
Bash had almost warned Mary about Olivia but he had decided that once again, he didn't want to break them up. He wanted to be a choice. Francis had always pressured Mary and that wasn't the role that Bash wanted to fill.
That Christmas day that they had spent together he looked at her over dinner and all of a sudden he had hope. He saw their life together and how wonderful it could be. She was so happy.
Her seduction had almost been more than he could handle, but he had felt solid in his resolution to take it slow. When they kissed goodnight, he had been almost rough with her. There was just so much energy inside him and he didn't want to leave her wondering in the least bit if he desired her.
Their lips had burned together and he left trails of kisses down her neck and along the curved flesh of her breast. With his hand above her he had backed her into the door frame in a desperate attack of wanting. He had only hoped that his actions had conveyed his longing so that her frustrations were at least somewhat quelled.
He had gone home a happy man, only to have his heart torn out the next day.
He heard her words that were cloaked in solid reasoning, tasted her tears and felt her sobs. He had asked. "You're still not over Francis are you?" And he felt his blood spill out of his heart where her answer had ripped a hole.
The following weeks were a blur of him settling into his new job and his new home. Home seemed to be a weak term for such a displaced heart though. He worked and he lived but he never thrived. He ignored her attempts to contact him, even though he died a little more every time he deleted her messages.
He maintained contact with Francis so he had known that he and Mary were happy together. Francis told of their relationship fondly but he was kind enough to leave out details. Bash always assumed it was out of compassion since Francis had long ago guessed his feelings for Mary. He was grateful for his brother's understanding and friendship, even if it still was rather strained. Time didn't heal his heart but it was seemingly healing their brotherhood.
It had been months of him living in bleak heartache when he had looked up and seen her leaning against a car in front of his office building. He had frozen in his tracks and his body seemed electrified by her presence. He knew immediately that this would end badly. He could visualize them having coffee, how it would feel to hear her voice, how she would stay the night, and how he wouldn't make the mistake of letting her leave again without first having all of her.
And then how she would get on a plane and return to his brother.
He summoned all of his agony and drew strength from it, walking towards her. He heard himself send her away and it was like a war within his soul as he turned and left her there. He could hear her sob behind him and he walked faster.
It was what had to be done. They had always done what was best for each other. This was what was best for her. She loved Francis, and if Bash was part of her life it would only serve to confuse her.
It was also best for him. The life would have trickled out of the shattered cracks of his heart each and every time he saw them together. He would have tried to be happy for them, out of his love for both of them, but it would have killed him eventually.
This was what was best for them all. He had stopped walking when he reached the park bench across the street from his apartment building and sat down there. He stared up at the Miami sky and realized that in spite of the balmy weather there he had spent his months under his own private cloud cover. There was nothing but darkness in his world now. To see her smile was to feel the sun and he had been cut off from that warmth.
It was time for him to move on. He didn't know it at the time but the next year would benefit from his angst. His work was excellent and he would be promoted because of it.
But as he sat there on that lonely bench it was all he could do to pick up the shards of his heart and accept that he had broken his promise of always being there for her. He had done it because it was best for them. It was best for her.
A/N: Well, there's the heartache from Bash's view. Reviews are beautiful and so is Bash.