Frost Heart → druig, marvel

Chapter 15: Apology Not Accepted!

2024 - Amazon Forest

Ayaz pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fingers trembling slightly as he extracts one, the smooth paper crinkling against his skin. He flicks the lighter, a small orange flame dancing to life, illuminating his striking golden blond hair against the deepening shadows of the night. He takes a long drag, inhaling the smoke deeply, letting it fill his lungs and drown out the chaos swirling within him.

Settled on the worn wooden steps of Druig's cabin, he leans against a sturdy pillar, the stillness of the night enveloping him like a comforting embrace. He tilts his head back, gazing at the stars blanketing the dark sky, contemplating the strange clarity that descends upon him during moments like these. His mind swirls with unwanted feelings for Druig, a tempest of confusion and desire that he desperately wants to quell.

“Why did I even come here?” he mutters, the thought laced with regret. He should have stayed in France, surrounded by friends who knew him, who understood his pain.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, a fleeting hope that it might be Camille checking in on him. He pulls it out, only to be met with the cruel reality of no signal bars. “Merde,” he groans, frustration bubbling over. “She’ll freak out.” He tucks the phone away, feeling the weight of unspoken farewells hanging in the air. They deserve to know his truth, to understand the depths of his existence beyond the surface.

Memories of laughter with François and Louise flood his mind, bittersweet reminders of what he’s left behind. Camille, with her steady presence, has been his anchor during his darkest moments, listening patiently to his complaints and cradling his broken heart through sleepless nights. But even her comfort cannot shield him from the storm brewing inside him, the anger at Druig that refuses to dissipate.

As he finishes the last of his cigarettes, he searches the pack in vain, fingers brushing against empty space. “Fuck!” he shouts, frustration spilling over as he tosses the crumpled pack to the ground. His heart feels fragile, still mending from the heartbreak that echoes in the recesses of his mind.

Calming himself, he rises to take a walk, but the flicker of movement catches his eye—figures approaching through the dark. “I’m not playing your games, pretty boy,” he mutters under his breath, intent on retreating. But Druig’s voice cuts through the air, calling out his name with an urgency that sends a jolt through him.

He halts, body tense, and turns to face Druig, who stands only a few feet away, eyes wide with surprise as if he hadn’t expected Ayaz to stop. “I’m sorry. Who are you again? I had this terrible brain injury recently that caused me to lose all my memories of unwanted people in my life. So… would you mind awfully sodding off?”

“I get it. You’re mad,” Druig replies, his tone steady but edged with concern.

“Shit, Sherlock,” Ayaz snaps, the bitterness coating his words. He steps forward, anger radiating from him like heat from a flame.

“I'm sorry,” Druig says quietly, looking into the golden blond's eyes.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?” Ayaz's voice rises in disbelief, the hurt pouring out in waves.

“Yeah, I am,” Druig insists, reaching out a hand to Ayaz, but the frost-hearted Eternal swats it away, refusing to let him in.

Ayaz steps closer to Druig, their faces mere inches apart, fury radiating from him like a palpable force. “Apology not accepted. I think this is where you bloody leave me alone.”