Strange house we must keep and fill. House that eats, and pleads, and kills.
▍ AN ORIGINAL STORY ╱ romantic melodrama!
❪ m!oc & m!oc ❫
❪ f!oc & m!oc ❫
written...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER FOUR.How To Forgive
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Content Warning: Death of a Parent, Suggestion of Child Abuse
The terrace was exceptionally quiet beneath the shadow of the swallowed sun. It was one of Cassidy's chosen places of solitude. His father, nor his mother, ever graced the chipped cobblestone that engulfed the space. It was too visibly impaired. They made no efforts to renovate the space, and for that Cassidy was grateful.
He was also grateful that his father retired early so that he wouldn't have to face his wrath until the sun returned. Another day, he'd live unscathed.
Josette didn't mind it too well, either. Not due to the imperfections, but because of the Mulberry tree nestled between the hedgerows encircling the cement railing. She was moderately allergic to its pollen, as well as the fruit itself; for that she was more than moderately, so the avoidance was justified.
Cassidy plucks a berry from a low-hanging stalk, and tosses one onto the tip of his tongue as his fingers creep toward the pocket of his shirt. There, he uncovers a hidden cigarette. It is between his lips in a swift second and ignited with another.
He disposes of his dull match against the grain of the earth, between two lively hedges. He takes a slow, steady drag, permitting the smoke to coat his throat, and travel toward his chest with a means to soothe the ache in his still-beating heart.
With it pressed between his fingertips, he gazes out upon the grounds. His eyes shift between two trees to assess the waves, and that is when he finally heard the soft footfall echoing behind him.
He places the rolled tobacco between his lips, takes a long pull, then rolls his neck until his eyes are able to make acquaintance with the only person who could possibly be in his presence.
"Those will lead you to an early grave, I hear." Killian speaks out against the stillness of the night.
"Oh, yeah?" Cassidy matches, amused. He pivots so that he is able to press his backside against the railing and see the man more clearly. Killian edges closer. Cassidy's space becomes absorbed by faint hints of lavender and patchouli.
Killian merely drones in affirmation.
Cassidy sighs wistfully, then takes another drag with a smirk lining his lips. Killian emerges through the fading smoke, propping himself against the railing.
