The Broken Partizan - 3

Trust - Part 6

As you leave the cupboard, you and Haru exchange a final hatred-fuelled glance, before you turn away and walk quickly back to your dorm.

As soon as you enter you shut the door and lean against it, closing your eyes and trying to calm yourself down.

You're angry, stressed, upset, exhausted, trapped, alone, worried, infuriated, paranoid...

The list goes on, and all you want is a break, a break without something to worry about.

You fall onto your bed and groan into one of the fluffy blankets strewn across it, but when you shift hear something crinkle underneath your leg.

You reach down to grab it with a curious frown, wondering what it is.

A postcard.

Your confusion deepens, it's a picture of a grand piano.

You flip the postcard in your hand, and don't know how to react when you immediately recognise the handwriting...

As your Dad's.

Dear y/n.
Just wanted to check in and let you know I'm selling the house. I might see you soon, hope Tulipwood's good.
From Dad.

You're disappointed to say the least, he's written the bare minimum, and got the name of his daughters' school wrong. And he's selling the house, the home you grew up in, the home with few good memories, and a cramped space.

You know Lottie will care more, and probably also has a postcard, so remind yourself to speak to her about it.

You're slightly confused as to why you don't care more, maybe it's because of everything else that's going on, but your old life doesn't seem important anymore.

You toss the postcard to the floor, and don't even bother watching it fall.

He never cared about me. So why should I care about a pathetic postcard he spent two minutes on?

You curl up under the thick duvet buried in pillows and blankets and comfort. The wind slips in through your half-open window, lightly fluttering the bedsheets.

You close your eyes, drifting off to the sound of the oak tree's leaves rustling in the late Autumn breeze.

A hand on your arm startles you awake, all the calm from your short nap vanishing in a second, replaced with worry and fear.

You gasp and pull away from the hand, but realise it's Jamie, and the fear melts away.

"It's only me, I'm sorry for waking you up."

"It's fine." You murmur, slowly dragging yourself out of the cocoon of comfort, sitting on the edge of your bed and rubbing your eyes.

Jamie closes the open window, then faces you. "Are you okay?"

He looks distant.

You take a while to reply. "I got a postcard from my Dad."

His emotionless expression shifts into one of light surprise. "Really? What did it say?"

"He's selling the house...and I don't know how to feel about it. It's weird...because I don't think I care that much. But I feel as if I should."

"Of course you should. You and Lottie still live there."

"I guess we don't anymore. I live here now, and if not here then Maradova. There was nothing for me there anyway."

To your surprise Jamie looks frustrated, and his voice brims with anger. "No, you shouldn't have to live in Maradova, you don't want to serve the royal family for the rest of your life. You shouldn't have to do that, it's Lottie that's a Portman, you should be free from all this, this- mess!"

"It's my choice Jamie."

Jamie walks across the room towards your bed, his brisk footsteps loud on the wooden floor. "But it's not! You only came to Rosewood to support your sister, and you were dragged into the Maravish royal family and partizans and Leviathan. You don't even like using weapons, but you have to to be a Partizan...do you even want that? Don't you want a normal life?"

You're slightly stunned by his outburst, and stand up to approach him. "Normal is overrated, this is what I want."

The desperation creeps into his eyes, his mannerisms more jerky. "How can you say that? Why would you want this life over one where you're free!?"

"Listen to me-"

"-Listen to me." Jamie snaps back, the desperation has disappeared, and now he seems flooded with rage, "You never listen."

You hesitate, he's never spoken to you like that before, and it sets something off inside. "Oh, I'm sorry, why don't you go run off to Haru, I'm sure he'll be such a great listener."

"Maybe I will."

"You barely know him!"

"Yeah?" Jamie's control over his anger is about to snap, he shakes his head, clenching and unclenching his fists, his eyes bore into yours, fiery and confident. "Well at least I can trust him."

You feel your heart drop as you stare at him, your lips parting in shock and all the anger seeping out of you with his one statement.

Jamie doesn't trust me.

He doesn't trust me.

But he trusts the one person he can't.

"What do you mean?" You murmur, your voice etching with heartbreak.

"I know there's something you're not telling me, and now I'm just your friend? You didn't even acknowledge that saying that would mean something."

Your eyes fall to the floor, stinging with tears. "Jamie I didn't know it had upset you, you should've told me."

"How was I meant to tell you? You would've pushed me away like you do all the time."

"You're acting like you don't push me away? I care about you, and I get that there's a lot going on, but- why him? Why Haru?"

"He understands me."

A tear dribbles down your cheek. "No. he doesn't. Haru doesn't understand anything, I understand you. I can't say I've experienced what you have, but I know you, and I know how you feel. I-"

Jamie cuts you off, his tone harsh. "-you don't know how I feel."

You look into his eyes, notice his closed off expression and anger and pain. "You're not yourself. I think I should go."

You begin to walk out of the room, more tears falling down your cheeks in salty droplets.

"Of course you're leaving, just like you always do when it gets hard." Jamie snarls, you stop abruptly at the door, your hand resting on the handle.

"What did you say." You utter, not turning to face him.

"You heard me."

You spin around, your voice thick with emotion and your heart aching. "What is wrong with you?! Stay away from me! This," you point at yourself and then to him, shaking your head, "is done."

Something seems to finally click in Jamie, and his eyes soften, his brow falling. "What?"

"You heard me."

You open the door and rush out of your own bedroom, not wanting to hear anymore from him. You've never seen him so angry, so out of control of himself, so awful.