The Frog

Desperate Thoughts and Desperate Bodies

     Ambrose made his way into the room, following Sorin.

     "I wasn't kidding when I asked for Weylin to be left outside the room." Sorin said nonchalantly which wasn't much surprise to Ambrose.

     "He's my guard." Ambrose tried to make an excuse, not wanting Weylin out of his sight after today's news. He snuck a glance over to Weylin, wondering what could be happening in his thoughts.

     "He can guard from outside the door, isn't that what he does at night?" Sorin set up his lesson for the day, not even looking at Ambrose. However, Ambrose wasn't paying attention. He was busy pondering over how he could ever express his feelings for Weylin, still studying the features of his face. How could he share these weighing emotions without ruining their relationship and Weylin's job. It wasn't as if Weylin could return the feelings.

     "Ambrose, I'm talking to you." Sorin growled. There was a certain grain to Sorin's voice that finally caught Ambrose's attention.

     "I'm sorry?" Ambrose turned his head just slightly, his eyes glued to his guard.

     "You should be." Sorin set a book on top of Ambrose's head, distracting the boy.

     "This is exactly what I didn't want happening, Ambrose. Send him out."

     Ambrose took the book, looking at Sorin, oblivious confusion clear in his expression.

     "Now." Sorin commanded. Ambrose raised a brow, staring up at his tutor.

     "Excuse me?" Ambrose narrowed his eyes. "Who do you think you are to tell me what to do? Since when did you have any authority over me!" Ambrose waved his left hand angrily as if he was swatting away the pesky fly that was Sorin's voice as he tried to interrupt.

     "You have been so rude, so bothersome it's absolutely atrocious" Ambrose continued. He'd had enough of Sorin's behavior, his annoyance becoming too much to bear. Weylin showed himself out, unwilling to be inevitably pulled into their growing argument.

     "Why now do you decide to be so horribly difficult! I know you listened to my mother and I, I know you heard us, I know you know what we discussed!" Ambrose could feel his emotions get the better of him, but he refused to slow himself. "So you must know the inner turmoil I face!"

     "Would you quiet yourself!" Sorin raised his voice above Ambrose's, unable to get another word in afterwards.

     "Would you mind allowing someone else to speak for a clear moment!" Ambrose felt as though his voice might burn out.

     Sorin took hold of Ambrose's shoulders, crashing their lips together in a moment of desperacy on Sorin's part. He longed for silence and for Ambrose himself. It was difficult for Sorin to know of Ambrose's arrangement as well. Since the first day he'd met Ambrose, Sorin was deeply intrigued by the boy. His quick mouth and often poisoned words. His almost parental role in his younger siblings' lives. Not to mention his physical being. Sorin loved to watch Ambrose's dimples form valleys in his cheeks, the moles that graced Ambrose's jaw and neck, even the one that formed just at the corner of Ambrose's brow. Sorin couldn't stop himself daydreaming about the slight curl to Ambrose's dark, auburn hair, or his olive green eyes. Even the slight crookedness to Ambrose's fingers..

     Ambrose broke himself from the kiss, striking Sorin across the face. Shocked, Sorin brought a hand to his stinging cheek, staring back at the boy. Sorin didn't let himself think, swinging his hand back, giving Ambrose the same treatment.

     Ambrose straightened again, both of them hesitating before crashing into each other, grasping and pulling at each other's coats and limbs. Sorin was more than aware of Ambrose's emotional weakness, he knew Ambrose would have never been pressed against him like this if he wasn't looking for some escape from the feelings he so wished to be rid of. And Sorin was more than willing to offer that escape.