A Royal Pain in the Ball ✓

Chapter 21 - Going.

She didn't know if it was her smile, or the door, that swung so slowly behind her that she almost slammed it.

But after that day, he didn't talk to her.

Not one word.

He didn't feel like a need to say anything to her. To be true, he felt excited when he heard her down by the door. Arrived, at his most busiest, frothiest day that he didn't want to work. He just wanted to go out in the garden, maybe walk a couple of miles and he was done. He didn't like that he had a desk. Sitting behind it and writing thousands of letters down on a letter, and that it had to be sent on that certain due date.

Meanwhile, she was not home - still laying down on her bed, had a sleepover at the castle. Another. A place of a building that the owner didn't seem to let both of them go, she heard - as the man she forgot his first initial to- informed her.

Told her that it was best to sleep in the closest room, maybe pink, and suited for a woman. And in a haste, she chose a room not far from his, and it may seem that it was, but it wasn't. She hoped that it was not close enough to see him everyday. She sighed. She wondered what she did wrong. She didn't offend him, nor said any words that would make him upset. And to the other day, as she closed the door and saw him even more upset. And she didn't know what to do. Offering him to help his work done didn't seem to do the job either, and she ran out of ideas.

She didn't even want to think about it even further. She was tired. And she was thirsty. She sat halfway up, agitated as all she had was a bedside table and her bed, laying on it for hours, which she realised was half an hour, which felt like decades and a million years of the future.

She sighed.

Another castle. Another room. And not that much of a difference. She felt like a puppy being escorted, travelling left to right, a same place where all she did was sleep, lock the door, or even have a meal. She didn't think much as she got down, the material of the floor greeted her with an every so, warm and cold welcome. One that was unusual. The color vintage wood and a ceramic blended to fit a tan color. And she quite liked it -- at least.

She wondered, again, what was the man doing. They didn't meet that much after he met, and the response she got when she visited him, didn't help with their relationship. Or what word could describe their relationship together.

He seemed awfully quiet. More reserved than her their first encounter. And she didn't have time, nor the quick cell of a brain to ask him what was going on, or what was happening. And now that he didn't want to talk to her made it even a whole lot worse. He didn't even greet her when they passed. Ignored her when she looked at him, and she didn't have the urge to go talk to him. It was of no use.

Such a difficult man.

She went for the door, escaping and fleeing down the stairs -- seems a right choice to do. She needed air, the sunlight, a membrane to keep her cool,
and the outside nature.

She figured, she would be the adult and let herself knock on his door. Go into his room and maybe talk to him for a little bit. What tiny encouragement she had, she went with, going for the door and walk down the hallway. The click of the door seemed to enjoy her suffering, or maybe encouraging her to go with what she had thought she would work on. Visiting.

Maybe be the more adulterer who'd meet him on a first occasion, and discuss things with a calm and peaceful, hopefully and surely -- that would help. She sighed as she stood in front of her doorstep. She didn't want to do it. Maybe some tv would work. She was glad the internet was working- her phone had been turned off for months and she had finally gotten some way to use it. And of course, felt disappointed when she didn't see any missed calls from her friends or her mother. Which were- blatantly the only ones she had -- or knew of a family acquaintance.