Invisible String [t. s]

...What Are We?

May 20th, 1922.
London, United Kingdom.
Theseus Scamander's house.

Five months since New Year's events in New York. Our Aurors stayed there for two weeks together, sharing a hotel bedroom, moving from neighbourhood to neighbourhood helping Tina Goldstein fight Grindelwald's acolytes and surges of Dark Magic around the city. Saving each other constantly in the line of duty and being there for one another whenever they needed each other the most.

Then, they came back. Amélie went home and felt her house was too big for herself. She asked her boss if she could use the accumulated vacation time she had and he said yes. The dates coincided with Jean's murder, so, she used that as an excuse. She then felt terrible about it, specially because Amélie had moved on. Sure, that wound is the cut that always bleeds but, with time, that bloodshed turned into tiny drops.

Élie left the capable François in charge of the Bureaux, then, she wrote to Theseus asking if she could stay with him and he didn't refuse. She moved in with him for a bit. Four months to be precise. And none of them felt time going by. Now, does four months sound like too much of a vacation break? Yes.

  Thing is, Theseus pulled strings in the Ministry for them to admit Rosier temporarily without affecting her job in France. They've been working as Head Aurors in the British office and, honestly, it felt great to do the tasks with a trusty person by your side. Amélie felt specially pleased because she got to keep her hard-earned title in the office.

  Neither of them were scared of whatever they could find out there because they felt safe with each other and, most importantly, they could head home together. That tough moment at night when one comes back to find their place empty was replaced by their presence. It felt the way it should be.

Today, we find ourselves in his house. It's noon on a Saturday. They were drinking tea as they ate brunch in bed. Bedsheets. No clothes. Their morning was a very homey morning. They woke up, neither was hungry, they got to the kitchen and tied the mess of last night's dinner, played a record Theseus owns, danced to the song in the living room, laughed, cleaned dust off the vinyl shelf, and just waste time. Very productive until he started touching her like nobody else does. That's how they ended up back in bed. Then, they cooked something and here we are.

"You know?" Said Theseus as Élie left her empty cup of tea on the nightstand. "It's lovely to just lay here with you." She smiled as she looked at him and laid down properly by his side, looking into his big blue eyes. He smiled. Her smile faded slowly.

  It's been a while since they've been seeing each other everyday and, before that, almost every day. While hooking up was fun and satisfying beyond words, she needed to know what this was. Problem was that, once again, she didn't know if he felt and wanted the same as her. She feared they weren't in the same boat.

"What is it?" He asked. She shrugged.

"Nothing." He leaned on his palm and had a look at her features.

"That's not true." His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin gently and connecting the dots of the freckles on her cheeks slowly and tenderly. "C'mon, talk to me." A sigh.

"I don't wanna ruin the moment." Élie said with a smile, he frowned. "It's fine. It is lovely to sit between comfort and chaos." He chuckled.

"What is it?" She looked at his eyes and then closed hers as she took a deep breath. Here goes nothing she thought as she hoped for her heart not to be broken by him again.