Red Wine - White Linen | D.M

29

"I guess it does make you feel better."

His expression was blank and unreadable while he looked down at his arm. The lump in my throat felt suffocating.

My heart plummeted.

His forearm was covered in a layer of dried blood, settled firmly on his skin. I wondered if he kept it there for effect because he definitely wasn't lazy with spell work. I couldn't see what had caused the bleeding but my gut twisted, knowing it must of been self inflicted.

I felt physically sick, frozen in place.

He pulled out his wand and twisted his arm away so it was no longer visible to me. He banished the blood and intricately studied his skin.

Rolling his jaw he pushed his arm towards my face like a proud parent. "Worthless huh?"

I looked down.
I paled and my heart strained as I began to feel lightheaded.

The words 'worthless' were printed on his arm, copying mine. Too similar to mine.

Actually identical to mine.

The exact same placement, size and position as the one I previously cut into my arm.

I moved back and forcefully pulled up my sleeve, not caring for the sting. I brought his arm next to mine to confirm my suspicions. They were identical.

He grinned. "Now we match."

I looked up at him in horror.
"What did you do? What the fuck did you do?" I yelled.

"What did I do?" He scoffed bitterly. "What the fuck did you do?" The scowl on his face looked set, as if he wasn't only just grinning.

He left his sleeve cuffed at the elbow while I pulled mine down, not wanting to see double. He lifted a brow.

"Whatever you do to yourself I am the first to know." He half stated half demanded.

Ignoring him I slowly scratched the skin on my hand with my nail, causing a superficial white mark to appear. I pulled his hand closer, making sure I was examining the exact same spot.

Promptly a white scratch line appeared on his skin.
I traced my thumb over it, confirming it was real.

I'd hate to admit he'd outdone himself but if I'd been asked before I would of been adamant that no spell of that sort existed. It was almost fascinating.

He pulled out of my grasp and gracefully sat back down onto the bed and conjured a book, settling with a hard gaze. He looked unapproachable, it reminded me of the first few weeks that I'd met him.

I stood in awe trying to figure out his true mood, almost forgetting what he'd done. A multitude of words began to slip off my tongue but were yet to form.

"W- well" I stuttered but quickly corrected myself. "Take it off."

He didn't budge, stance statue like. "Hm?"

"Take it off. The spell, curse, whatever it is." I said forbiddingly. "Get rid of it."

He licked the tip of his finger elegantly and proceeded to flip the page with little movement. "No."

I felt my temper stewing inside me.

"Is that all then?" He muttered, obviously shutting himself down.

I dug my nails into my palms, trying to restrain some of the uncomfortable amount of wrath that was cemented inside of me. Suddenly I noticed the crescent shaped marks form upon his palms. I quickly released my nails not wanting to cause him pain. He continued holding the book showing little notice, only infuriating me further.