#IN YOUR BASEMENT I GROW COLD THINKING BACK TO IT I WAS ALWAYS TOLD DONT TALK TO STRANGERS OR YOU MIGHT FALL IN LOVE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spookykittyboo · 2 years

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Small Moment

Connecting with Thomas for the first time.

THIS MIGHT BE A LIL TOO LONG

It has become a blur now, when, where and how. You can't even remember why you're still here, and you dont even fight the feeling of comfort you created for this place. It was all hot, dirty, just a piece of mess and yet somehow this is enough for you. Grateful even.

You are now on your own feet walking, your hands touching the walls around you but you will always remember when you can't even have control over your own body. Tied up. Strangled. Normal. You could've run and look back at all this as hell. No, you stay. You see this as a.... home.

...

You're humming a familiar song in your head, cutting up some meat to put in a sandwhich. Moving your body to the sound of the music you're playing. You can still all the sounds from the basement but you manage to keep doing what you're doing besides, it has become a bird chirping noise to you. Somewhat of an everyday routine to hear, not at all a horror to your ears, anymore.

But instead, the man who makes those scream, is a mystery to you. He never talks once, maybe only a few words. You're starting to get confuse as you remember all of the things you know about him. "Is he..." you keep questioning your experience of watching him. Again, you're still unsure of your thoughts on him, it changes because he will always surprise you in different ways. And as weird as it sounds, he never really leaves your head. You're too curious to just leave him out and you can't really understand why.

Is it his silence?

His act?

Empathy?

Or something you dont want to admit...

You know the story of him. Luda once told you while she tugged you in, she explained the whole thing with her own way, which sounded like a poetry to you. The pain he went through, the scars he has. Those what they called "horrendous scars" never really bothers you, it never stops you from looking at him secretly. You probably couldn't admit it to yourself but you always know that it's an awe. You watch the man doing anything he does, walking, lifting or helping Hoyt. A little smile would also go a long the way, but of course you didn't notice the smile that appear out of nowhere. As you're to focused on Thomas.

Day by day, your curiosity grows like a stabbing pain. You can not bear the heavy weight of all your longing for him and it might weird to say, but nothing can express what you're feeling for him. With him never having any contact with you makes you want to dig deeper even more. Well maybe once, when he carried you over his shoulder to take you away from everyone and the whole world. But that one moment is not enough.

...

You have a plate of sandwhich in your hand and a glass of warm milk in the other, you walk your way till you can see the stairs leading to the basement. You can't shake the fear off. Yes, you're in awe of him but also, he can skin you off and you'll be his new mask. All of the thoughts are rushing in your brain like cold water. "Hello." you said, a little loud. You couldn't detect any noise you heard before. Just a light noises and probably the sound of his heavy steps. "He-hello... are you... there?" you step down by your left foot. Passing one stair. Then you get too confident to pass another.

When you hit the 7th, you hear a loud bang. Your eyes widens, as the horror enters your body, sending shiver all over your body. "Hello? Are you here?" you keep looking down, unsure of what to do. Another step? Going back? "Wh-what should i do? Shit!" you whisper under your breath. "I dont think i-" you gasps, stepping back but all you find is yourself falling on your back, hitting the hard stairs. He appears in front of you, darken your existence with his huge shadow. "Y-you... you..." you still have the food in your hands eventhough the milk spills itself on you a little and touches your arm.

He stands there. Wondering why you have yourself down here. His eyes traces all over your body, he starts with your feet he can see the how dirty they are, because you would go around the house barefoot. He gets closer to you, both of his hands are wiping themselves on his apron. You couldn't tell anymore what he has on his apron, blood, dirt, anything is brutal and it's a mixed of color.

You're panting with your hazy vision. "You're... you're Thomas aren't.... you?" you dont know whether it's the fear that strikes you or you're mesmerizes by his figure. What's real and what's not is something you can't really decide.

"Y-you... you want to eat, Thomas?" the amount of fear you have, starts to wash away little by little. "I brought you food..." you stand on your own feet, showing him the food then put it on the stair slowly. "It's not the meat you guys eat. But i-i think it will be good... for you..." to be honest, you're starting to shy away from him, with his eyes still nailing themselves to you it's hard not to feel intimidated. Just when you're about to make it back upstairs, you have a little, maybe sick or crazy idea. "Or, you can sit here with me." you sit yourself down on the stair, bringing the plate to your lap, siding the glass closer to you giving him a place to sit. "Here, Thomas." you pat the space next to you. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of nerve wrecking terror he gives you. Just. By. Standing. There.

He follows your so called command, moving towards the empty space you gives him. It makes you wonder even more. He can give in? He sits right next to you with his broad shoulder touching yours. Of course we all know why, the man is a giant. He hunch his back with his head down, but he gives you side eyes, still trying to understand something behind yours. "Here, i made it." you smile giving him the plate. The man gives you nothing but a huff and looking away from you. You dont know if it's out of stupidness or you're just going insane by now but giving up is not an option.

"Do you want me to help?"

Now, you onlt have his back as the view. But even with no face and just a dirt bathed clothes you can still see the vicious path he has gone through. Your eyes goes down to his hand. Each fingers represents the hard work he has to put to each of his shoulder, they're unrecognizable as his hands turn to a darket color due to the blood stained. "Thomas, here i can help you. Please look here." his head turns to you, and you greet him with a smile on your face. You hold one piece of sandwhich in your hand trying to feed him. If he even let you.

Hopefully, he will sink to your warm embrace. Cause there is nothing but pure tenderness you want to give him. You want him to feel safe. Even with his beast like figure, you know there is somethimg else, more human than the whole world behind that mask. "Here." you feed him the small piece, gently, through the opening of his leather mask. You push the food in, and surprisingly, he eats it. One bite, then when he starts to feel the taste of it in his mouth he's going range mode eating the food, which startles you. Makes you pull your hand in a sudden move. To say, your face is in a shocking state. And he's too busy eating the food to notice your reaction. But after he finish, he look back at you. This time you could not help but notice his eyes are no more showing a hostile brutality, it's almost like a cry for the affection he longs for. "Do you like it Tommy?" you asked him tilting your head.

" Hmm?" you smile gently to the soft giant. You keep digging for an answer from him. You find him with his head down. "Yes? Do you like it?" still no answer, now you starting to wonder if he's able to talk his mind out. "C-can you say it Thomas?" you can hear the desprate attempt of yours, trying to pull him out of his silence. He let out an angrily grunt from inside that brown mask. "Thomas..." you stutters "It's okay." you reach slowly at his shoulder, afraid of getting a wrong reaction. Once you settle your hand there, you can feel his body relaxing to your touch. Something you thought you could only feel in your wildest dream. "You can nod." giving him a comfort laugh to coax him into expressing his feeling.

He nods, looking at you for a while then come back to look at the ground. You don't show much of your excitement, but deep down you shoots firework at his cute respond. "Yes? You like it Tommy?" you laugh happily knowing he connects with you. And that is more than what you expected since you stand on the entrance of the basement. He nods again, seeing your responce, "Okay, yes. You can nod Tommy!" again, your excitement can't tame itself.

Without your own concious, your hand is on the side of his face "Tommy, you don't have to feel alone. I'm here." you whisper to him. Watching his head slowly leaning to your hand.

...

In this moment, there's nothing that could ruin what you and Thomas have. You keep feeding him the sandwhich and once a while you give him the glass of milk, while you help him drink.

Even he knows, nobody can have this moment but you and him. This small moment.

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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Do you write yandere? If so, can I request skz yandere headcanons on how they would react when S/O rejects them because she doesn't wanna deal with whole drama that would come with dating an idol?

i mean kinda?? i have a seungmin yandere fic in my drafts sooo BUT YEAH

oh also, requests are not open but im just gonna do this one cause headcanons are kinda fun BUT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED <33

also why is the felix one so short-

Warnings; yandere!skz, rejection, k-dnapping, slight gaslightning or like manipulation, restraints, threats, aggression, mentions of masturbation, stockholm syndrome

Chan

nobody rejects him. nobody.

you two were friends from school and you were sooo happy when chan made it as an idol, finally persuing the dream he had been yapping on about for years.

but in the midst of that he realized that he had feelings for you, he missed you all the time, just wanting to hang out with you and maybe explore the things he had on his mind. so,, he decided to confess when you guys were at a cafe.

“look y/n,,, there’s something I wanna tell you” he started to which you tilted your head

“nooo,,, are you guys going on a tour again,,, i wil miss you sooo much channie” you said with a pout but the boy shook his head.

“i like you y/n”

your mouth stood agape, this was not what you expected and truthfully,,, not what you wanted.

“chan,,, y-you know thats not possible” you said with a frown, looking at him straight ahead.

“of course it is,,, why wouldn’t it be? w-what are you trying to say y/n?!” his voice started growing louder, you looking around in order to see that people werent turning their heads towards your table.

Minho

you have made a big big mistake my friend-

wont even hesitate to keep you hostage in his basement LIKE IM NOT JOKING-

might just tie you up and like,,, not even do anything to you, just talk to you and admire you, maybe tracing your facial features and cuddle closer on the cold floor

just wants to keep you as a pet or smth and you are scared out of your mind cause you cant move cause of the restraints, you cant speak because you have silvertape across your lips that he only removes to feed you but if you start screaming you wont get any so you deicde to just stay calm and quiet before someone saves you and play along.

i mean you do,,, kinda fall for him but you know you cant,, but you cant help but to fall for him and miss him whenever he’s out on schedule things

he always returns to you and you get so happy when you see the little crevice of light from outside when he opened the basement door

whenever he lies next to you, you put your head against his shoulder and take in his scent the best you can

he told you everyday that he would let you go if you agreed to date him but you shook your head,, maybe cause you liked being his prey.

Changbin

he’s more of the threatening type of yandere,,, like,, not that he’s violent but if you try to block his number he will create new ones and keep on sending you messages about how you have betrayed him and how he wished that you loved him back and all that,,,,

you guys often meet because you go to the same college and are students in the same department sooo,,,, avoiding him is pretty impossible

he stares a lot at you,,, you guys have a couple of classes together and he just stares the entire time, his eyes are just filled with revenge, he somehow wants you make you his, own you but he doesnt know how yet, for now he can just look.

watch this fucking message conversation just be this;

[why did you talk to him during class?]

[you could have just asked me]

[nobody loves you like i do. no one y/n]

you are never getting rid of him basically,,

he’s gonna get to you first ;))

Hyunjin

i feel like he goes more to the stalking route than the kidnapping and drugging and whatnot-

ok,,, you rejected him,,, but that doesnt mean you’re getting rid of him.

ohmygod what if he turns into a peeping tom- cause he obviously knows where you live.

like yall were not even that close?? he just saw you backstage at one of the concerts and thought you looked good so he decided to go up to, you werent an idol so no problem he thought.

but he gets a bit too,, hasty with his decisions and often falls for people randomly and so when he politely greeted you and gave you his number you simply shook your head, explaining that this wouldn’t be possible since you worked in the same industry and you needed to stay clear out of any scandals in order to keep your job.

no was not answer in Hyunjins mind.

luckily he managed to catch your full name by flickering through some papers in an office and also saw your full adress there, knowing exactly what he was going to do on his free time.

Jisung

if im being completely honest,,, i have no idea-

like,,, he gives me kinda pervy yandere vibes,,,

what if youre like his ex before he became an idol and now he wants to get back together with you-

oh,,, he masturbates to your pictures-

i feel like he always thinks about you, wondering what you like and wants to write songs about you but he doesnt do much-

but when he finds out that you have been hired by the same company as him to work as a like,,, economics accountant thingy he is all of a sudden vEEERY interested-

always asking the manager of when the group will have meetings with the accounting team,,, although they had nothing to do with them-

he just wanted to be in a conference room with you (and think pervy things about you in your tight office skirt and white blouse)

you went to the toilet on day and you saw him lurking around the same floor,,, WHICH ONCE AGAIN WAS NOT CONNECTED TO THE GROUP AT ALL-

and idk,,, probably sneaks in with you and locks the door before you even react that theres someone else in the toilet-

i feel like he’s pretty mild,,, but when he’s alone with you he is aggressive broooo

probably pins you to the wall and threatens you or smth along those lines,,,,,

(writing this is what my life has become to-)

Felix

“what do you think you’re doing?”

you turn around again, you had just thought of just leaving with a vague answer to his question but he was not having it.

“answer.”

his words sounded cold, his dark voice making an entrace, the exact one you’ve heard on many of the songs you listened to.

“felix,,, you have to understand,,, u-um,, if we date theres gonna be some issues” you said but he just stared at you with cocky eyebrows and a dark gaze, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

“do you think i care? would i ask you if i cared?” he said to which you shook your head automatically, what more could you do?

“you get until tomorrow to think and if i don’t get the answer i want well,,, we’ll see what i’ll do to you.”

Seungmin

he plots shit behind your back yk?

he’s more of the sneaky type of yanderes (oop spoiler to a fic heh)

like he makes this like fucking year long plan where the objective of the mission is to make you obssessed with him-

he starts kinda subtely,,, first its going to the same gym as you and like,,, knowing where you placed your stuff

and then he starts putting small notes like under your waterbottle when you went to grab something that say like “i think youre cute, call me” and then his number

you obviously dont react,,, because why the fuck would you contact a stranger at the gym

BUT THEN you realize that its him, its mf kim seungmin. yo,,,, u didnt know he went to this gym,,, that was not,,, the best-

of course you got a bit interested,,, you wanted to know how he was off camera,,, like just in his everyday life and i meeean,,, he was attractive but obviously you should stay away bc,,, he’s a celebrity but seungmin didnt want to stay away

he notes somehow started to get more aggressive,,, suddenly being like “why are you ignoring me?” and such,,,

and one night you were left alone in the gym with him,,, it was sooo quiet, only the sounds of your strained breaths as you lifted a dumbell

here where the plan came to play ;))

Jeongin

he’s obsessed with you and you are not going anywhere, even if you rejected him.

he’s more clingy?? LIKE HE WILL NOT LEAVE YOU

ok sure,, he falls more into the stalking category too,,,

also veeeery much a obssessed kinda yandere,,, like his mind is not thinking about how to like capture you,,, more about how to make you soooo comfortable and fool you into loving him despite the circumstances?

i just imagine that you work in a cafe and jeongin often meets you there when he buys coffee and you are already in awe when you see fucking yang jeongin enter the coffee shop on your shift but you were even more excited when he leaves his phone number on a napkin and slides it over the counter before leaving.

you thought about it,,, contemplating multiple times but,,, you decided it would be best not to since well,,, safety purposes

but he would visit you and every day his face got more and more perplexed cause he wondered why you didnt call

mf would not leave you alone, he would even wait outside the coffee shop until you finished your shift and walk you home,,, so now he knew where you lived-

and then do the same thing over and over again until you talked to him.

does. not. give. up.

#stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids yandere #skz yandere #anon #Cherrymail🍒

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izzielizzie · 3 years

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I just wondering if you could do a headcanon based on Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift, cuz im sorta in love with that song but i dont mind who. Thx so much, u dont have to tho ❤

Yes! Champagne Problems is my absolute favorite song on the album along with Tis The Damn Season so I’m very excited! This is a Keely/Luis fic, which I've never done so I’m confused too don’t worry, but it does make sense I assure you. Also, there are ticket men and balls so um,,, have fun deciding what time period this is in because I don’t know. Enjoy!! Also there are notes at the end.

You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt

”Are you sure you want the three am train?” the ticket man asked. No, Luis was not sure and he had half a mind to go back to Keely’s house as fast as he could, but he didn’t have that choice anymore.

”Yes, thank you.” Luis and the man exchanged money and tickets.

”Well, have a good night then,” the man said.

”Doubtful,” Luis muttered as he sat on a bench to wait for the train.

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse

Luis ran his hand over the ring box in his pocket as he waited in the silence. It was strange, to be able to hear his own thoughts when an hour ago he was surrounded by so many people he could hardly hear Keely’s voice.

Because I dropped your hand while dancing

His hand still tingled, where hers used to be. He could still feel the way her fingers slid along his palms for the last time as she spun away from him.

Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing

Luis could still feel the snow on his coat and on the knee of his best pants. He could feel the biting cold on his cheeks as he watched her blubber apologies he couldn’t hear.

Champagne problems

He leaned against the railing of the balcony as he watched her drown cup after cup of the champagne he knew her family always bought.

Your mom's ring in your pocket

The box he had warmed in his palms and opened to the cold felt heavy in his hands. The ring he had seen glint on his mother’s finger every day until it was too heavy for her to bear was too painful to look at. He wanted to see it glint again, but the snow was in the way.

My picture in your wallet

Luis pulled out his wallet to see how much money he had, and if there was enough for the train when he saw the picture he always looked at: Keely, his mother, and himself laughing at his high school graduation. It was the last time his mother left the house.

Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems

Luis felt his heart shatter as Keely smashed the top of the next bottle in the hall downstairs.

You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in

Luis’s brothers made a beeline for him when he slowly walked down the stairs, his money where Keely’s hand should have been.

”Did she say yes?” Manny asked.

Luis didn’t answer. The look on his face was answer enough.

Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating

Luis’s sister-in-law came towards them with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Did she say yes?”

Manny shook his head at his wife.

She dropped her glass, the red wine splashing onto her dress.

Dom Perignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded

Cooper handed Luis the bottle of wine Luis had brought earlier that afternoon when he entered the kitchen.

“Are we celebrating?” Nate asked.

Luis shook his head.

Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems

Vanessa Merriman, Luis’s friend from childhood laughed a short humorless laugh as she pulled herself up onto the counter, her ball gown fluffed to one side.

”It’d call it too much wine if you asked me.”

”I’m sorry Luis,” Bronwyn added, pressing a gloved hand against his arm. He shook it off.

You had a speech, you're speechless

He had a speech planned. He had wanted to thank his friends for supporting him. For reminding him how much his relationship with Keely had helped him grow as a person.

Love slipped beyond your reaches

“I loved her,” was all he could say. Olivia, Vanessa, and Bronwyn pulled him into a hug, their arms around him as his shoulders shook and the bottle slipped out of his hands, staining his shoes and the hems of their dresses.

And I couldn't give a reason

”Did she tell you why?” Kris asked.

Luis shook his head.

Champagne problems

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vanessa miming drinking to Kris, who nodded with pursed lips.

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

Luis could see her new car through the window of the kitchen. He could see the handle he pulled on to open the door for her whenever they went for drives. It was the only thing not covered in snow.

November flush and your flannel cure

Keely had been shivering the first time they exited that car five weeks ago. They were going to their old dorm for the last time with their friends to visit his younger brother. Without a second thought, he pulled off his flannel jacket and wrapped it around Keely’s arms.

He didn’t have to think about much in their relationship.

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

Luis could still remember the day Vanessa dared them to a game of soccer in the halls when they all woke up with major hangovers. “What a mad house,” he had commented as everyone laughed.

I made a joke "well, it's made for me" how

The joke was a small one that they had all found amusing and then forgot about, until now.

“She really was mad huh?” Olivia asked.

“I guess.”

Evergreen, our group of friends

“She’s messed up everything,” Vanessa added.

Don't think we'll say that word again

“We won’t be us without Keely,” Bronwyn agreed as she wrapped her arms around Nate, who was leaning against the stove.

Luis didn’t question how they all agreed to drop Keely from their group. It seemed natural.

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through

“Oh, sorry.” Everyone turned to look at Keely in her black dress and gloves.

“What do you want?” Olivia asked.

Keely’s eyes darkened. “This is my house. And I’m getting the Christmas decorations.”

They watched as Keely walked through the kitchen to the door that concealed the basement steps. Decorations felt odd for a time like this.

One for the money, two for the show I never was ready, so I watch you go

Luis stood and watched as she disappeared down the steps.

Sometimes you just don't know the answer Till someone's on their knees and asks you

“God, she wasted an eight year relationship,” Vanessa said, shaking her head.

Eight years. Luis didn’t know how badly he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her until she refused to.

"She would've made such a lovely bride What a shame she's fucked in the head", they said

His friends’ words were still in his head as he sat in the train station.

“She’s fucked up Luis, it’s not your fault.”

“There’s nothing you can do when someone like that makes up their mind.”

But you'll find the real thing instead

“Hello. May I sit with you?” Luis looked up to see a girl with a beautiful white gown and a green coat and cap standing in front of him. He could see her shining amber eyes, even though it was dark in the station.

“Do I know you?” Luis asked.

The girl smiled and nodded. “I left the same party as you. Keely’s? I’m Bronwyn’s younger sister.”

Luis knew he recognized the voice. “Maeve?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I needed to go home, and Bronwyn wasn’t ready yet. I’m not fond of Christmas parties.”

“Neither am I,” Luis said. Maeve laughed and fiddled with the skirt of her dress. It really was the prettiest dress Luis had ever seen.

“May I sit?”

“Of course.”

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

They sat and laughed for hours as they waited for the train, and Luis walked her home in the snow. Her shoes were soaked through so he carried her the last few blocks, and he fell in love as she laughed, her eyes shining.

And hold your hand while dancing

A year later, she wore the same gown as she had at the train station as they danced in her ballroom with the rest of their friends. After a while they found their way to her balcony overlooking her yard.

Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems

“Want a drink?”

“No thank you, Luis.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“No, I’ll come with.”

Your mom's ring in your pocket

He never got the wine though, because once they were in the middle of the ballroom, he was kneeling in front of her with his mother’s ring on her finger.

Her picture in your wallet

It might have been Vanessa who took the picture. Or maybe Cooper. They were never sure, but one copy was in his wallet and one was in her locket with their children until the day they died.

And you won't remember all my Champagne problems

They were toasted with glasses of champagne, and for the first time he wasn’t hurt by the sight. Tonight was a night for celebration. Not for heartache.

You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“I’m glad you didn’t marry Keely Luis my dear,” his mother told him at the wedding, the first time she was able to leave the house.

“Who?” Luis answered.

Notes:

It’s snowing idk why

They’re at Keely’s vacation house which is why Luis had to take a train back home

I hinted at it but Luis’s mom was sick when this happened, and better at the wedding

Also this was a mildly petty fic my goodness.

Also this happened in about eight different time frames/locations that I’ve woven into one fic: There’s Luis and Maeve at the train station, Keely and Luis at her house on the balcony overlooking the dancers, Luis talking to his brothers and sister in law, Luis and his friends at their dorm, Luis in the kitchen, Maeve and Luis on her balcony overlooking the yard, Maeve, Luis and friends in Maeve’s ballroom in her parents’ house, and then their wedding at the very end.

That wasn’t any clearer sorry

I hope you enjoyed!!!

#maeve x luis #izzielizzie's fics

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dreadhaus-literature · 5 years

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{Story} Cold Comfort

What’s a mortician to do when the love of their life is just out of reach? A temporary replacement is just cold comfort for the time being. It can’t last, after all—

True love never dies.

Chapter One

A Dreadful Dalliance sits at the end of a long, forested road, the gate-keeper to a sprawling cemetery that will eventually be the resting place of every soul in New Senzannini. The Mortuary has been in operation for nearly a decade and has earned it’s sterling reputation as a thoughtful, caring place to bring your loved ones for their last rites and a compassionate send-off to the next stage of life. Owned and operated by Dot Dreadful, the Mortuary handles all post-mortem operations, from the preparation of the departed to the funeral arrangements, and though the morgue is fully staffed with plenty of attentive, devoted staff, there’s only one mortician on staff--Dot. Now that the owner of the Dalliance was growing too pregnant to be on her feet, or surrounded by the chemicals necessary to do her job, it left a gaping hole to be filled or New Senzannini’s only mortuary was going to be temporary closed. That wasn’t an option, and that left Dot Dreadful with only one alternative.

“You’re hiring a temp?” Felina Frenzy, known more intimately by her birth name Monica, glanced up at her best friend with a curious tilt of her head. “Do they even have temporary morticians?”

Dot Dreadful didn’t glance up from the stack of papers in her hand; there was so much involved in handing her business over while she was on maternity leave and she should have started preparing for this months ago. “Ah, yes and no. It’s something of an unspoken code that you help out a fellow mortician if they need it. We often consult with each other on difficult preparations or if one of us is handling a coroner’s report dealing with suspicious circumstances. That sort of thing.”

Monica nodded, turning back to the training manual in her lap. “Were you able to find someone to help you out?”

“The city coroner offered but he’s...” Dot paused in her reviewing, glancing up at the ceiling. “How do I put this diplomatically...he does as well as one would expect a coroner to do when dealing with living, breathing bodies after he spends all day with cold, dismembered corpses.”

Monica laughed, nodding. “Makes sense. So he wouldn’t be any good handling the people aspect of the job.”

“Definitely not.”

“I mean, you know I’m always fine to help you out,” Monica crossed one leg over the other, meeting Dot’s gaze over her desk. “But I don’t know why you think I’m going to be any better handling the people aspect of your job.”

“You’re better with people than you think, you just don’t like them.” Dot turned back to her lists. “I don’t like people either but I manage this job just fine. You’ll be a peach, you always are.”

“...But you’re not expecting me to do the hack and slash part of the job, right?” Monica ventured. She didn’t and wouldn’t tell Dot no, but it wasn’t like she had the technical training to prepare a corpse for burial.

Dot shook her head. “Not at all. I thought of a compromise. Since you offered to help where you could, I figured you could handle the managerial side of things, keep the staff running smoothly, sort of...just sit in this chair right here.” Dot patted the arm of her desk chair. “You’d be the boss, supervising the day to day operations, and I’d hire on a temporary mortician to solely be responsible for the more hands-on part of the job. You guys would tag-team it.”

Monica looked thoughtful before she nodded. It seemed a solid enough plan. “But the city coroner wasn’t interested in working that way?”

“Roger’s a decent guy, but he’s also been the city coroner for like, eighty years,” Dot exaggerated dryly. “He wants to work this alone, and I just don’t trust him to handle the entire process. I’m not going to ask you to try and deal with his gross man ego while you’re doing me a favor, holding this place down while I’m off.”

“I would have been fine, Dottie.” Monica closed the lid of the training binder, handing it back to Dot since the woman as still adding pages to the already thick instruction manual. “I’m not unused to men’s egos.”

“I know, love, it’s not about you not being able to handle it, but more why would I subject you to that when you’re doing me a favor? Especially since I was able to find a mortician who had no problem with staying below and just prepping the bodies for you.”

To Monica, that sounded reasonable enough and why wouldn’t it be? A Dreadful Dalliance has been Dot’s first baby, but now that she had actual babies on the way she needed help taking care of her “firstborn”. Monica had been friends with Dot for years, since before the Mortuary, so of course she’d been here through it’s conception and it’s construction, and it’s subsequent years of operation. How many hours had she spent with Dot in this office, working on her own projects? Being a novelist and illustrator afforded Monica plenty of freedom to set her own schedule and since her newest literary masterpiece was circulating and topping lists, she had some much earned downtime--granted one might not consider managing a mortuary as “downtime” but Monica knew the staff here was pretty much self-sufficient and short of just sitting in here and being present should any emergencies present themselves, it really wouldn’t be too taxing. Dot had spent the last couple weeks preparing that thick manual for Monica to have and she’d also insisted Monica call her if need be. Dot may be approaching the bed rest phase of her pregnancy but that didn’t mean her vocal chords didn’t work--Monica didn’t say this, but she was going to do whatever she needed to not have to call Dot. She wanted to do this, to help Dot out when she needed it, and with Dot taking care of the second part of her job with finding a temporary mortician, it all seemed to be falling into place without a hitch.

“When do they start?”

Dot reached over for her desk phone. “They already have, actually.” She pressed the intercom, connecting her to the morgue in the basement. “Can you come up to my office please, Glad?”

“Can do, Miss Dreadful!”

The chipper reply to Dot hadn’t been what Monica was expecting, especially coming up from the dark, cold recesses of the morgue. She actually blinked in surprise, but Dot just flashed her a smile and turned back to scribbling last minute notes in the margin of the list in her hand.

A scant few minutes later and there was a knock on Dot’s office door before the new hire let himself in and Monica got her first look at the partner she’d be working with over the next several weeks.

“Monica, this is Gladwyn Charles. Gladwyn, this is my closest friend and your new boss, Monica.”

The man Dot named was still in the process of ducking into the room when she made the introductions, his impressive height making the frame of the door a little bit of a hazard. He was wearing a floor length black latex apron but all that did was elongate his already tall frame even further; it stopped at his ankles, revealing polished black dress shoes that were a compliment to his black slacks and the white button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had on a bow-tie that was red rather than black, and that fiery crimson adornment drew Monica’s eyes further up to the same blaze of red that surrounded his head like a halo. Gladwyn Charles was a true redhead, his hair the color of blood, a stain of rose around his pale skin and he wore it long, braided and over his broad right shoulder. it nearly reached his waist, but it seemed even the braid couldn’t tame all the wavy strands, as curls sprang free to frame his square features, brushing the hollow of his freckled cheeks. Gladwyn had a dusting of freckles not unlike stars across the bridge of his nose and the crest of his cheeks, bringing Monica’s gaze to his long lashes and the deep, rich forest green of expressive bright eyes. His glasses were perched a little low on his nose; the frames were silver and square, fashionable and sleek, but Gladwyn’s smile didn’t speak of arrogance that came with wealth. The smile was big and bright, but as Monica continued to stare at him it only seemed to grow...bigger, brighter, reminding her of an animal baring it’s teeth. It was almost aggressive, his smile was so prominent, but nothing dangerous reflected back at her in those eyes--eyes that were riveted to her face. Gladwyn didn’t even turn when he closed the door, keeping his gaze on Monica as he pushed the door closed with one long-fingered hand.

“Ah, Miss Frenzy. It’s an honor to finally meet you,” Gladwyn made a show of wiping his hand one final time on his slacks before offering it to Monica. “Miss Dreadful has told me so much about you. I feel like I already know you.”

Monica stood to take Gladwyn’s offered hand. “M...Monica, please. And your name is...?”

“Gladwyn.” He laughed a little sheepishly, but still hadn’t taken his eyes off hers. “I know it’s a little unusual. You can call me Glad if you’d like. Or Charles, or Charlie. Even Smiley!”

From her desk, Dot’s eyebrow rose. “Smiley?”

“It’s a nickname from college.” Gladwyn answered Dot, eyes still on Monica as he kept hold of her petite hand. “Because I smile all the time.”

Monica would have ventured to bet it had more to do with Gladwyn’s smile being...hard to forget. It was almost painfully wide, as if he were the world’s nicest man. She gave Gladwyn’s hand a firmer shake, and though he released her hand...she felt the reluctance. She’d let his hand go several dozen seconds before he finally released her, but she tried to push that from her mind. Dot had warned her years ago that morticians were sometimes...odd. Like those who work in IT, only certain people want to play with the dead all day long; typically it’s those who don’t play well with the living. Gladwyn was probably just a little awkward from interacting with those who can’t interact back, day in and day out.

“Nice to meet you, Gladwyn.” Monica stressed his name, ensuring she said it right. Gladwyn’s eyes brightened.

“I assure you, Miss Frenzy, the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Monica, please.”

Gladwyn paused, his throat working before he spoke, inclining his head down in a show of respect and slight reverence. “...Monica.”

With Gladwyn much closer, Monica was able to discern even more from the tall mortician--like his tattoos. She could see at least four, though three of them were thick black bands on his left wrist, leading up to his elbow. When he finally turned to face Dot, Monica was petite enough to see there was a smiley face tattooed behind his right ear. Smiley really did seem to be a moniker that fit this unusual mortician. Gladwyn was tall and thin, but he wasn’t without some muscle mass. Now that he was closer, Monica could see his forearms and biceps laced with sinewy muscle, likely from lifting dead weight all day, and though his slacks left a little more to the imagination she assumed his entire frame was the same way., and she’d felt for herself how strong his hands were. Gladwyn was definitely not what came to mind when one thought of the word mortician; well, except for that smile. That was not a normal man’s smile, but Monica also couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong with it. Did he smile with too many teeth? Was it just too...eager? She shook her head slightly as if to clear it, moving to take her seat again--almost startled back into standing with Gladwyn extended his arm to help her into her seat before he took the chair next to her. When she looked up at him, intending to thank him, he smiled at her and her voice died in her throat. Eager was definitely a good word to describe Gladwyn’s smile.

Little did Monica know, but eager was a good word to describe Gladwyn Charles as a whole. The Dalliance’s newest hire initially comes across to others as unassuming, even if he was on the tall side with a head full of long, flaming curls. Gladwyn never minded that he had a tendency to blend in a little in the background; he’s perfectly fine with allowing someone else the spotlight because he’s a perfectly polite gentleman. Nice guys may finish last but Gladwyn would happily smile in the face of anyone quipping that at him with a, “True, but the tortoise always beat the hare, didn’t he?” before turning back to the task at hand. Gladwyn has gone through life with the intelligence to understand human nature, and the self-awareness to know he doesn’t always fit in. He’s aware he’s a little awkward but that awareness also allows him to fake it, to cover his tendency to make others uncomfortable with a self-deprecating joke or by being so polite others simply can’t be rude to him. If one were to ask Gladwyn he’s not sure why others are so put off by his smile; he thinks his smile looks just fine! After all, he practices in the mirror. His teeth are straight and white, and his eyes sparkle a little when he smiles--so what could possibly be wrong with him? Friends in the past have told him he just looks a little “creepy” or “crazy” when he smiles, to maybe try not smiling so widely...but if he’s happy, why shouldn’t he smile with all his teeth? For all his intelligence, Gladwyn can’t figure some aspects of human nature out, and that was one of them. Being too eager, too friendly, too clingy was perceived as a bad thing and he just didn’t understand that. That was why none of his friends ever stuck around for long. That was why none of his previous relationships ever worked out. Gladwyn simply cared too much. He was simply too eager.

Gladwyn slowly lowered himself into the chair across from Monica, eager green eyes devouring her in a way he knew he had to get under control, it wasn’t socially acceptable for him to stare this long but it was an enormous struggle. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful before in his entire life. Dot had told him a lot about Monica, he’d listened with his usual attentiveness but now, now he was calling upon his memory for every single detail from his previous conversations with his employer for the tiniest morsel he could glean about Monica. Even as his mind worked, his eyes did their job in committing everything he could about her to memory; her bone structure was impeccable, feather-light and delicate, and he ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips at the urge to pepper kisses along her jaw just to follow that tempting line to her throat. Monica sat like an empress in the high-backed chair, her posture so regal he felt the urge to shy away, to shrink back because he didn’t deserve to be so close to her...but how could he not be? Who could possibly stand to be away from such an ethereal creature? Was she even real? Gladwyn’s long fingers pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the focused lenses providing him with further admirings to commit to memory. Their eyes were the same color, green, but hers were brighter than his, a feminine compliment to his masculinity that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Her hair was short, a bob that complimented her profile so devastatingly he had to slowly grip his fingers along the arm of his chair to stop from wanting to touch her hair. It shimmered, caught the office lights as if flirting with him, teasing him with how soft it must feel. And he knew how good she smelled; he caught the wisps of her perfume to the moment he’d stepped into the hallway outside the office and now that he was close enough to scent her effortlessly he focused on dragging the scent of her into his lungs, desperate to commit the scent to memory so he’d be able to recall it at will.

The simple act of meeting had never been so poignant to Gladwyn before in his entire life. How many hundreds of people had he met in his decades of life? None of them compared to this, none of them had ever affected him like this, like Monica. He knew her name was Felina to the public but she’d told him to call her Monica, the same name Dot was able to call her...that must mean something. To Gladwyn, it did. She’d shaken his hand, smiled at him and insisted, twice, that he call her by her birth name. A name intimate, known only to family and friends...that included him, now. How nice of her! How sweet...who would have thought a woman so beautiful, so stunning, would also be so kind?

“Gladwyn?”

The older mortician blinked behind his glasses, before turning to Dot. “Y-Yes? I’m...terribly sorry, I must have spaced out.”

Dot laughed, eyebrows raised. “You are wearing a face mask down there, right? Those are some pretty strong chemicals we work with.”

Gladwyn took the easy out with a gracious laugh, his rich tenor a compliment to that ever-present smile on his pale face. “Yes, of course, of course. A thousand pardons, what were you saying?”

“I was saying, Monica is the one I was telling you about, who will be sitting in my chair here while you’re working down in the morgue. She’ll be handling the operations, managing the rest of the staff and funeral arrangements. She’s got full authority and she knows how this place should run,” Dot looked between Monica and Gladwyn with a smile. “And love, Gladwyn has been familiarizing himself with the morgue downstairs over the past few days, shadowing me, and shouldn’t have any problems handling the hack and slash part of the job.”

Gladwyn cleared his throat slightly, his red brows pulling in at the center as a barb of jealousy seared across his chest. He’d known Dot for a couple weeks, knew her to use terms of endearment liberally and it had never bothered him before, but just now, her use of love directed at Monica rose like bile at the back of his throat. He didn’t particularly like that...and he didn’t particularly understand why.

Monica and Dot were both unaware of Gladwyn’s inner turmoil and confusion, mistaking his throat clearing and the shifting in his seat as mere fidgeting. Monica nodded, returning Dot’s smile before she turned it to Gladwyn.

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem to keep this place running smoothly while Dot’s gone, right?”

“Hm?” Gladwyn locked gazes with Monica before that smile of his returned in full force. “Oh, I highly doubt it. You seem a very capable woman, Mis--er, Monica.”

Monica’s laughter was a touch nervous at the compliment, most especially coupled with the sincerity behind Gladwyn’s glasses. He held his smile while he held her gaze, and Monica had to resist the urge to blush under such open attention. He was certainly a...nice guy.

“I drew up manuals for both of you while I’m gone, and Gladwyn I told Monica to reach out to me if you guys run into any problems.” Dot tapped Monica’s manual on her desk; Gladwyn’s was down in the morgue and he’d already been making use of it. “The Staff has already been prepped to treat the two of you as co-owners while I’m gone, so you shouldn’t have any issues there either.”

“Seems you really have thought of everything, Miss Dreadful.” Gladwyn sat back in his seat; his gaze appeared to be on Dot...but he was watching Monica out of the corner of his eye.

“I highly doubt it,” Dot replied, resting her chin on her hand. “But, I trust Monica and with you here to help her, Glad, hopefully it won’t be too rocky for her.”

“You have my word, I’ll look out for her.” Gladwyn’s smile was once again aimed at Monica. “She’ll be in good hands.”

A nervous flutter of butterflies rushed up Monica’s ribcage and she had to look away; Gladwyn was clearly a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and the genuine show of emotion in his eyes, on his face, made her nervous. Who was so nice this early on? Was it possible for someone to just...be this kind? It had to be, because here he was, giving her a million-watt smile with promise written all over his face.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

Monica took the reprieve where it was offered, looking up at Dot. “What’s that?”

Dot gave her a smile, looking between Monica and Gladwyn with her hands out in a gesture. “How about dinner?”

The Tower was a high-end restaurant with an established clientele, but there was nowhere New Senzannini’s literary elite and established death beautician couldn’t eat if they wanted to. There was no need for a reservation and the trio were ushered from the hostess podium to the best table in the restaurant, immediately; afforded their privacy but with attentive staff at the ready. Dot eased down into her cushioned seat with a sigh of relief to be off swollen ankles but it was something Monica missed, because Gladwyn was standing beside her chair with it pulled out for her, gesturing to it with that curious smile of his. She offered him a nervous but grateful smile in return as she slowly sat down, startled at how easily he settled her against the table. Even for the muscle she’d seen he was stronger than he looked, but Gladwyn would argue she weighed next to nothing at all. He had half a mind to order for her to ensure she was even eating enough; a thought that darkened his brow as he settled into his own chair to Monica’s left. Now that they were out of the Mortuary, Monica could see all of him as he was out of his apron and he filled out his tailored suit well. He’d also rebraided his hair before coming out and with his wealth of hair pulled back from his face in an elegant french braid, Monica had to admire Gladwyn. He was a handsome man. As if sensing her staring, he turned to face her, his smile catching the ambient lighting and she had a new appreciation for his bone structure, the way the shadows flirted with the hollows of his cheeks, the high cut of his brow.

“I’ve never eaten here. Have you?”

“A-Ah, a few times,” Monica nodded. “I’m...surprised you haven’t.”

“Why’s that?” Gladwyn’s head tilt reminded her of a puppy.

“You...well, don’t mind me saying so but you look like you come from money.” Monica was hopeful the low lighting of the intimate restaurant hid her blush well enough as she moved her napkin to her lap.

“Why would I mind such a sweet compliment?” Gladwyn’s voice was rich and warm as he regarded Monica. “I do, come from money, but I don’t get out much. Surely Miss Dreadful has explained we morticians don’t keep much living company?”

Monica couldn’t help the laugh. “I a-am her only friend.”

“Hey hey,” Dot snapped her cloth napkin before pointing between the two of them. “That is a thousand percent by choice. Other people are the worst.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Monica put her hands up, but as she moved to take the menu from their waiter, she was surprised to momentary silence when Gladwyn reached over, took her menu, and then handed it to her. “T-Thank you.”

“Of course.” Gladwyn’s tone was still warm, amiable, but he cut his eyes to the waiter as if daring the other male to say something. When the server cleared his throat and turned his attention to Dot, Gladwyn returned his gaze to Monica and his entire posture relaxed. His smile had never wavered.

The entire premise of dinner between the three had been Dot’s way of breaking the ice between her best friend and the new hire at the mortuary. She didn’t want to leave Monica with this new mortician for hours and hours a day, for weeks, perhaps months, without forming a sort of tentative relationship between the two, for Monica’s comfort level more than anything else. Part of why she’d hired Gladwyn was because he was such a nice guy. She’d called every colleague, boss, and even two of Gladwyn’s college professors to run him through the wringer to make sure he came out squeaky clean but every test Dot put him through, he passed. Everyone had something nice to say about Gladwyn, that he was an eager student, a polite co-worker, a diligent employee. He never called in sick, he never had any brushes with the law; hell, one of Gladwyn’s old employers stated he actually said, “Please,” and “I’m sorry,” to corpses if he mishandled them or when he needed to do something particularly invasive. Gladwyn was polite to a fault, and he was a certified nice guy. Granted, a couple people had mentioned his smile giving them the creeps, and Dot had to admit there was something a little off about it, but you can’t judge a guy by his smile, right? Besides, finding a mortician who wasn’t considered at least a little creepy was like finding a needle in a haystack. Dot had interviewed enough fish-eyed weirdos to know, Gladwyn was as good as she was going to get on such short notice. Judging by the swelling in her ankles just from the walk from the Mortuary to her truck and then into the restaurant, Dot was days away from being confined to bed--so as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.

Still, Dot lifted her water glass to her mouth as she looked between Monica and Gladwyn; they seemed to be hitting it off well. Gladwyn’s smile was a prominent thing, Dot noticed he really did smile all the time, but it seemed different when he looked at Monica. Dot noticed things like this, she paid attention, but it didn’t raise any alarm bells. He simply seemed to really enjoy Monica’s company and honestly who wouldn’t? Dot had been friends with the other woman for over a decade; she knew the kind of effect Monica had on others and even if Monica would deny it to her grave, Dot knew better. Gladwyn was proof enough; the man was hanging off her every word. Dinner would be the first step to solidifying a good relationship between the two, and as long as this went well, Dot would be confident in going on maternity leave knowing her best friend, and her place of business, were in good hands.

“So, I know plenty about you Gladwyn but Monica doesn’t,” Dot turned to the duo as the waiter took their drink orders to the bar. “Why don’t you tell her a little about yourself?”

Gladwyn would have opened a vein to get Monica to talk about herself, but he swallowed that graphic visual with that smile of his, moving his hands to his lap as he nodded a few times, his attention swiveling to Monica effortlessly. “Well, what about you like to know?”

Monica blinked a few times, unsure what to ask. She floundered a little before blurting out. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Corpse blue.”

Gladwyn dropped his reply like a body onto the table, so serious in his delivery that Monica was left staring at him, her eyebrows slowly creeping upward. “R-Really?”

“Oh, no!” Gladwyn shook his head with a rich laugh. “I’m sorry, no, that was a little mortician humor. It’s just blue, my favorite color is blue, it’s just, you know the corpses turn blue when they’re frozen. I thought I’d have a little fun with it.”

Dot rolled her eyes as she reached for a hot roll from the bread basket at the center of the table. “You know our type of jokes never go over well with anyone.” She gave him a pointed look as she tore open the steaming bread. “Especially when they’re that corny.”

Gladwyn’s laugh was sheepish but genuine, and Monica had to respect a guy who could laugh at himself.

Throwing him a bone, she joined in the laughter, nodding. “No, no, I get it! That was, that was clever.”

Gladwyn paused at the compliment, his posture straightening not unlike a flower given a little bit of sunlight. His eyes were riveted to watching Monica’s chest rise and fall with her laughter, his own pulse quickening as he swallowed around his attraction to her. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? No one ever really laughed at his jokes; he knew they were a little awkward and probably not in the best humor, but she called it clever. She thought he was clever. His pulse reflected just how much he liked that, basked in that knowledge, that such a beautiful woman found his wit to be...worthy of her beautiful laugh. It had sent him over the moon to walk into this restaurant with her; he saw the way heads turned, the whispers that the Felina Frenzy was here and though he felt that curious jealousy again, part of him using his impressive height to shield her from inquisitive, needy stares, there was also pride that he was there with her. That others recognized she was there with him. He really liked that thought.

“May I ask the lady’s favorite color?” Gladwyn took the opportunity to get to know Monica same as she was doing with him. He was eager to know her inside and out.

Monica gestured with a smile. “Blue, too.”

It may not be a monumental thing, sharing the same favorite color as someone else; there are only so many colors in the rainbow, after all--but Gladwyn felt that connection like a bolt of lightning. They...they shared a favorite thing? It brightened his smile, widened it until he felt his cheeks ache but he welcomed the sensation. It made him so happy!

“Excellent choice,” he complimented with a conspirator’s playful wink, trying to play it cool when inside, his heart was turning somersaults. Monica’s laughter was light but genuine and it was wreaking havoc on Gladwyn’s nerves, shredding him until he was rubbed raw, left vulnerable to the next tempting thing she was planning to do. He swallowed again, looking up gratefully as their drinks were brought to the table.

“That better be a virgin,” Monica eyed Dot’s Bloody Mary, and Dot gave her a playful look.

“Only thing about me that is, obviously,” she gestured to her generous bump before taking a sip of the blood red concoction.

“What did you get?” Monica turned to Gladwyn, trying to keep the conversation between them going. She knew without having to ask Dot that the reason they’d come to dinner was so she and Gladwyn could get better acquainted...it just helped he was easy to talk to.

“Ah, you’ve caught me, I’m afraid.” Gladwyn lifted his foaming glass with a sheepish grin. “It’s a Dry Stout. I’m Irish every day of the year, not only on St. Paddy’s.”

Monica eyed the glass; it was so dark she couldn’t see through it, and almost resembled coffee though she knew it to be an ale. She laughed a little at his joke, missing his grin brightening in response as she was still admiring his drink choice.

“What have you gotten?” Gladwyn took a swig of his drink, curious eyes on Monica’s beverage choice. It was peach-colored, bubbly, and served in a long-stemmed champagne glass.

“It’s a Gigi,” Monica supplied. “My family is originally from Italy so I’m pretty well-versed in expensive cocktails from Europe.”

Gladwyn’s laughter was honest and washed over Monica as he gave her his undivided attention; she could definitely respect that the man was genuine, there didn’t seem to be anything fake about him in the few hours she’s known him. It was laughter she joined in on, picking up her flute for a gentle, feminine sip.

Gladwyn watched her without blinking, committing her movement to memory with ease; she moved with the grace of a feline, her manicured nails a compliment to the expensive cocktail kissing her lips the way he longed to do--Gladwyn came from wealth and affluence, he knew what it was to be among the elite but Monica was simply on another level. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest to hear her family was of money, she carried herself like a queen and why shouldn’t she? Her throat worked as she swallowed and Gladwyn felt it like a punch to his gut; his muscles actually tightened, his abdomen turning flips as he struggled to get his attraction under control. Monica was doing something awful to him, stealing all his attention and he’d never once felt such a strong pull to another human being in his entire life. The more time he spent in her company, the less he was confused by what was happening. Love at first sight wasn’t an easy thing to dismiss, but it was an easy thing to pin.

“It’s probably rude to ask your age, Gladwyn, but I’m having a hard time pinning you,” Monica set her glass down, meeting Gladwyn’s gaze effortlessly--because he was already looking at her. “So can I ask?”

“You can ask whatever you like, my dear.” Gladwyn would have aged himself with such a formal saying, but at least the slight accent in his rich tenor made sense now that he’d given away his heritage (as if his hair and freckles hadn’t been enough indication) and that endearment certainly came out smoother than the ale in his hand. “But I’m thirty-seven years old.”

“You don’t look it,” Monica reassured, but that was only partially true. Gladwyn didn’t look to be near his forties, but he carried himself that way, and his smile had some age behind it. Likely, due to his ever-present smile, he also had smile lines near the corners of his mouth and around his eyes.

These lines deepened at her compliment and Gladwyn reached over, putting his surprisingly warm hand on her knee. “Thank you, Monica. That’s incredibly sweet of you to say.”

Monica’s gaze dropped to Gladwyn’s long fingers and she felt him squeeze her knee in response; he made no move to remove his hand and she didn’t...know if she should consider this forward of him or not. She was dressed in black slacks and a ruffle-sleeve button-up, having wanted to start looking the part of boss since she would be taking over for Dot but she could feel the heat of Gladwyn’s hand through the fabric of her pants. She would, for some reason, have assumed his hands would be cold as the corpses he worked on daily, but his hands more closely resembled the fire of his hair.

Gladwyn hadn’t even thought before he touched her--he just acted, closed the distance between them as if he had to do it. He cursed that she was wearing slacks and not a skirt, a dress, so anxious was he to feel her soft skin. He knew it was softer than a lily would be, and he knew she smelled sweeter, too. He slowly dragged his gaze up from his hand on her knee, up her front to lock gazes with her and he searched her face--not for signs of refusal but for acceptance. She had to feel what he felt, didn’t she? There was no way only one soulmate would be feeling the instant connection, the attraction that was driving him to complete distraction. There was no other way to describe what he was feeling but soulmate; everything about her clicked like a puzzle piece Gladwyn had been missing his entire life. She didn’t shy away from his smile, she shared the same favorite color as he did; she laughed at his jokes and she found him to be clever. He knew she thought he was nice because she allowed him to pull out her chair for her and she wasn’t pulling away from his touch, now. She had to be feeling what he was...perhaps she was simply shy? Well, of course she was, she was a proper lady. A right beautiful one. A woman who deserved to be wooed properly, courted in the way a man of Gladwyn’s upbringing could. His smile deepened, and he gave her knee another longing squeeze before he slowly, reluctantly removed it. He wouldn’t push his luck, now that he was more convinced she shared what he was feeling, that slow-burning but all-consuming fire that was licking at his heart like flames.

“Are we ready to order?”

The server started at the head of the table, or perhaps it was simply Dot being pregnant, but it allowed Gladwyn a moment to wrangle with his returning jealousy--because any moment, the man was going to turn to Monica and speak to her...and Gladwyn really hated that. He was staring, unseeing, at his own menu, his mind narrowing to how he was going to...deal with this. He’d never considered himself a jealous man before, had never felt such raw, biting emotion in all his life but then he hadn’t known his soulmate before today. Monica was beautiful, a siren’s call to any man and while he would never blame her for such beauty, no it was his good fortune she was breath-taking, he didn’t have to like others noticing her. His eyes slipped from his menu, moving discreetly to Monica and again, he felt his pulse spike, his throat run dry, and he fidgeted in his seat. If he needed proof, he had it; physical proof. His body reacted every single time he looked at her.

“And you, Miss?”

Monica shifted, her eyes on her menu. “I’ll have--”

“Would you order for me, Monica?”

Gladwyn interjected into the conversation without much forethought; he was only grateful what he’d said made sense. Monica seemed to flounder a little, and he could regret catching her off-guard...but she took her attention off the waiter and it reinforced he’d done the right thing. Gladwyn had to fight to keep his smile from going smug that he’d so easily gotten her attention back.

“O-Of...course, but I don’t really know you very well?” Monica faltered, looking worried. “What if...I order something you won’t like?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Gladwyn set his menu down on his plate with his smile lighting his eyes. “You have impeccable taste. You can’t steer me wrong if it’s good enough for you.”

Monica’s smile was still nervous, still unsure, but Gladwyn looked like he’d made up his mind and she could only nod, turning to order for herself...and for him.

It was a small compromise, Gladwyn still hated that she spoke to the waiter, loathed that the man was admiring her so openly, but at least he’d staked something of a claim on her in front of the other male. It made him feel better, sated his childish, unfounded jealousy--no, it wasn’t unfounded! He had a right to her, to the other half of his soul. That was how it worked. That was the reward for the way he felt about her; he felt so strongly, of course he wouldn’t want someone else looking at her, thinking about her. No one had the right to even dream of touching her, no one except him.

Dinner did what Dot had intended...and it did a little more than she’d intended, at the same time. The two hours passed by in the blink of an eye, the trio exchanging stories, learning about one another and as the time passed, the more Gladwyn became convinced of what he felt to be true. Monica was the other half of his soul, the fabled soulmate promised to hopeless romantics and skeptics alike. She was perfect; she was beautiful, hauntingly so, in that he knew she would be in his dreams tonight--if he was able to sleep from wanting her. She was witty, humorous, intelligent; she was clever and her sarcasm was so biting he nearly wished to be at the receiving end just to feel the scrape of her teeth. When Monica smiled she stole the light from the room; she was radiant, and Gladwyn felt himself drowning every time she turned that smile to him. Her voice was what silk was made of, sliding over his skin until twice he’d nearly dropped his fork against his plate when she said his name. It was...too soon, perhaps, to think of late nights with her body wrapped around his but he couldn’t stop himself from going there, from crossing that sordid line because she aroused him so fervently his appetite was of an entirely different sort. He’d finished two stouts in the hopes it would douse the fire building in his belly but all it did was warm him further, made his brain a little hazy so that the lines between right and wrong blurred further. He was seated beside an angel, his angel, and the expensive food turned sour in his mouth for want to sample her instead.

This must be what it felt like to be lovesick, to be so enamored with one’s adoration that food and drink lose their taste. Gladwyn seemed to have fallen down the rabbit hole with no hope to catch himself on the sides--would he have? If he were honest with himself, no, he wouldn’t have. He dove headfirst down this trap, chasing Monica’s laugh, her voice, the way she looked at him, smiled at him. The way she made him feel should be criminal, he was already so addicted to the man he was when she looked at him. The glasses were emptied, the bill was paid, and all too soon reality was severing his time with Monica and for a fleeting moment he panicked at the void that would be left when they went their separate ways for the night.

“Thank you, Gladwyn,” Monica stood with his help as he pulled her chair out for her, and his smile was a little subdued but still present as he held up her jacket, for her to slip into it.

“It’s cold outside,” he prompted, fighting to keep the hard edge from his voice when it seemed she was going to simply take it from him. He wanted her to wear it. He wouldn’t have her catching cold, and his smile broadened when she slipped her arms into it. “There we are. That’s better, hm?”

Monica’s smile was a touch shy as Gladwyn’s large hands rubbed up her arms, smoothing her jacket and warming her further beneath the expensive fabric. He placed his hand at the small of her back, giving his head a nod toward the door and he tailored his steps to match hers despite their staggering height difference.

“So, what do you two think?” Dot turned from the front door of the restaurant, the valet sprinting out into the snow to retrieve her truck. “Think you’ll be okay to work together for a while?”

Monica turned to look up at Gladwyn but he was already looking at her, and he gestured to Dot with a nod of his head. “Ladies first.”

“I-I, yes, I don’t see any problems.” Monica gave Dot a smile, knowing Dot would be looking for any signs that Monica wasn’t comfortable--this would be a question Dot would ask again when the two were alone in her truck.

“I’m delighted to hear that, as I can assure I’m very much looking forward to working with Monica.” Gladwyn tore his smile away from Monica when he felt Dot was still staring at him. “You’ll be fine to relax at home, Miss Dreadful. We’ll have no problems working together.”

Dot looked between Gladwyn and Monica, making a thoughtful noise at the back of her throat but she nodded, her smile reaching her eyes. “Good. Then you’ll be in charge of the morgue 7AM, Monday morning, Mr. Charles.”

Gladwyn gave Dot a nod, but his attention was already turning to Monica as Dot’s truck rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant. He moved his hand from the small of her back, already loathing the space between their bodies and knowing there’d be more, much more, over the weekend. It was all he could do to keep himself calm with the reassurance that he’d be working very closely with Monica on Monday.

“It was a pleasure getting to know you, Monica. I’m very much looking forward to continuing to get to know you during our time together.” Gladwyn bowed his spine, no hesitation as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I will see you soon. Take care of yourself until then.”

Monica’s fingers trembled as they settled on Gladwyn’s arm, and she felt his hand steady her waist in response. “H-Have a nice weekend, Gladwyn. I’ll see y-you Monday.”

“I look forward to it.” Gladwyn straightened up, replacing his hand in his pant’s pocket, watching Monica take hold of Dot’s arm, the two girls leaning on one another as the valet opened the door into the winter cold.

Without a word, he gave his keys to the valet but kept his gaze on Monica as she entered the truck, and as they drove off, he kept his gaze riveted to the vehicle disappearing in New Senzannini’s generous traffic. It wasn’t until Monica was out of sight that he was able to look away, the spell of her presence lifted enough for him to feel...completely and utterly alone. The smile dropped off his face fast enough to shatter on the marble floor beneath his dress shoes, and the valet nearly tripped coming back inside after retrieving Gladwyn’s car.

It would seem the only thing creepier than Gladwyn’s smile was when he didn’t smile, but for the first time in his life, he found he had no reason to, at the moment. The reason was currently driving further and further away from him, to live a life separate from him, where she didn’t have to think about him, didn’t have to see him, where he couldn’t see her, where he couldn’t touch her...

...for now.

Gladwyn pushed open the restaurant doors with one strong hand, ignoring the biting cold wind as he stalked toward his waiting car. Monday wasn’t too far away. Besides, the weekend gave him time to prepare, to make room in his life for a very special new someone. It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect.

Just like she was.

Stay tuned! ♥ Next Update: February 17th!

#{theme} : for monica #{story} : cold comfort #{character} : gladwyn charles

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