Sunday, May 12, 2013

28. Worry

“You worry me.” Rosalind admitted. Admitting things of such a nature was always a rarity.

To the point, feelings were what made it so difficult.

“Do I?” Robert asked, as he winced. She held a cloth to his nose as blood trickled across his alabaster skin. She usually managed to stop it before it caught his lips, but this time she’d failed. He was trying to hide it from her and settle the matter himself. That was, until she found him on the ground in the kitchen. He’d fallen before the basin of the sink with a sullied cloth in hand. Whispers of afflicting tears circled his mentality and exuded from his skin quietly. Rosalind secured a clean cloth, dampened it, sat on the floor and dragged him over to her lap. His head pressed firmly against her thigh as she drew the ginger hairs from his forehead and padded the bloodied spot underneath his nose.

Kept his head elevated. And his open eyes on her.

“Yes.” She pursed her lips, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Slightly.” He grinned, despite the statically-ashed colouration that occasionally surrounded him. They’d been through it before.

“Hn. You would say that.”

“I did say it.”

“You did. Of course you did. It’s how you feel.”

She pressed harder against his nose and he winced, physically and verbally. An audible seething passed through his lips, but he was persistent. “Feelings have little basis in fact.”

“A fair point.”

“It’s not driven by how I feel if it’s factual.”

“It can be. But it means nothing to me if it is.”

“Exactly.” Pause. A break in conversation as Robert’s hands curled around his stomach. He looked like he might be sick, but the concept didn’t make her flinch. She wouldn’t chance a move. She didn’t want to.

“You did say it.” She started again, breathing a concluded sigh as he gritted his teeth through the pain.
More blood on the cloth. “Stop trying to confuse me.”
“If you’re going to pressure me on this I shan’t say it again.”

“It’s hardly pressure-” She cut him off.

Because she liked to. And she always did. And things of that nature tended to jolt his memory. “In fact, I shall choose not to say anything of that nature.”

“Perhaps I’ve invented my own study.” Robert tried, but he was still wincing.

“Why would you try to hide this from me?”

“Who’s hiding?” He asked, raising his arms as if to attempt a shrug. Given his position, it only looked awkward. Rosalind held the cloth to his nose as the grey colour started to fade from his features. “I’m simply having a leisurely rest on the kitchen floor.”

“I know a lie when I’m told one,” Rosalind replied, “Especially from the mouth of a Lutece.”

Robert closed his eyes as she moved to rest her free hand on his forehead. Soon after, her fingers travelled through the gentle wave his follicles formed from the line of his hair. She applied light pressure, because a headache was sure to follow if it hadn’t already.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” He admitted, and with his eyes closed she couldn’t see the pain, or guilt. Or the myriad of other emotions he was trying to process.

“Well,” She breathed a small sigh, lifting the cloth finally. “You failed.”
Word Count: 578

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