𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗼𝗺 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮 ➪ 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱

𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲. 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹

*mentions of suicidal wishes, ed, (self harm?) sa, for readers who would like to skip these topics there will be a - at the start and end of the paragraph*

"THEY'RE WEARING ROBES." Lockwood glanced back at Agnes who was a few feet behind him with her grip tight in the holster of her rapier.
"why are you doing this? we could have made it!" Agnes whined.

"then you should've gone. I never asked you to wait. you and Lucy could've escaped." he hissed in stress now worrying about Agnes's safety.

"oh yeah, I'll just walk out of here without you so that you can die miserably at the hands of Winkman!" Agnes frowned, her voice raising louder in frustration.
Lockwood adjusted the frequency on the radio, "George? we're gonna need another exit." Lockwood ignored her words even though his eyes stared deep into hers, making Agnes certain that she was not invisible.

no voice through the other end, nothing except the squealing sound and static.
Lockwood tried Lucy next, the results were about the same.
"fucking hell!" Agnes moaned while looking towards the ceiling, eyes closed as if she was in a prayer.

Lockwood walked behind Agnes, she couldn't understand him.
one moment he stared her as if he was in love with her, flirting and charming her with his ways.
the other he glanced at her as if she was nothing, like a bug you kill without noticing the squishing sound below the soles of your shoes, staining the floor with it's bodily fluids.

the reason why was simple, Lockwood could not stand being at fault for whatever could harm Agnes. because he'd blame himself until the end of his walking days just like he did with his deceased family.
and thing was, he had already put her in danger countless of times, whether it was on missions like the Annabel Ward case or on national television when she strictly told him not to say her name.
he loved her, he truly did. but just like Agnes pushed him away at the start of their companionship when she saw how careless he was.
she didn't want to care, didn't want to see her own reflection on the boy's charming grin and dark brown exhausted eyes.

Anthony Lockwood couldn't help but sometimes push away the girl he loved the most for her own protection, to keep her away from his destructive self.
but he also could not stay too long without her.
he yearned for her closure, yearned for her touch and the thrill and dramatics of their meeting eyes who could not keep long without staring at one another. something so comforting yet so flustering.

"you're incredible, you know?" Agnes scoffed at the way she was being mistreated by him.
"the way you can lie to yourself like that." she stared ar his back, he could feel it, her burning angry gaze.
"what are you talking about?" he glossed over.

"where shall I start?" Agnes hummed in thought, "maybe the fact that this job has spiraled so out of control yet you simply refuse to acknowledge it. you only care about winning, hell...you only care about the minute's of recognition you'll get. you're absolutely obsessed with it!" she sneered in disgust. it reminded of her parents obsession over power and money, they could never get enough of it without wanting more.

"yeah, of course I care about winning. I have to. I don't have anyone around me to pick up the pieces if I fail." his voice cracked slightly as he searched for two robes so that they could blend in.

"right." Agnes huffed averting her gaze to not look at him, she could not pity him, not now.
she would be there if he ever failed. but there was a large obstacle and it was time and family.

one hundred and sixty hours.
one week.
seven days.

she had seven days before she went to hell. she'd be punished for the sins of wanting to live a —semi—normal life without the constant abuse, punished for pursuing that life.

"if there are things I haven't told you about myself, then it's probably for your own good." he grabbed a robe from one of the numerous boxes, looking for another pair.
"will you stop with the bullshit? two hours ago, at that party, you were terrified at the though of me leaving you. you made me believe that you, me, George and Luce could be a family. but Lockwood & Co can never be that, because the center of it is you. and at the center of you is just a—" Agnes was cut short.

Anthony who had walked away when she stepped closer to him, suddenly turned quickly.
"is what?" he asked frustratedly.

Agnes faltered, her chest pounded angrily.
"a cold, dead heart of stone?" Anthony asked a slight frown on his face he could barely keep when he stared at Agnes's disappointed features.
"perhaps that's what it is. but, I mean, who knows, right? 'cause you don't actually show anyone."

oh, the feeling of similarity.
it was there.

the mirrored reflection neither of the two wanted to face. the darkened gazes and stern voices, two halves of the same soul.
it was obvious and yet so painfully oblivious between the two of them.
"nothing good comes from letting people in. everything ends and everyone leaves." he stated, walking towards her.
Agnes knew the feeling too well, but she wouldn't say that. or else she'd be a hypocrite to ever judge his position.

"so when my time comes, I don't intend on leaving anyone behind who's gonna lie there every night wishing I would just walk through that door one more time." the space between them was a large invisible wall.

"well then you should have never let me in. or George, or Lucy. because now it's far too late for that." Agnes's voice broke slightly. she regretted it now, regretted not following her own advice from the start.
she should've stayed away, should've slept at Lucy's loft, should have left for Fittes' when there was still a chance, should have stayed home.

- she wanted to die anyways.
killing herself with vices, ruining a pair of good, adolescent lungs. bones caving in her skin from barely eating, too accustomed when her mother would shame her for eating a full plate. sleepless nights she could not find herself to close her eyes in because multiple shadows haunted her, reminding her when she used to pass out when they were inside of her. disgusting pigs that could not keep it inside their pants both at school and social events.
Agnes Berkshire had been punishing herself to death ever since she could remember.
guilt and shame forming over her mind, traumatizing her even more. -

the two agents stared at each other with an uncertain amount of hate and love, it was a thin line after all. one you could easily find yourself falling off of to one of the sides.
"there are two men out there due back here any minute with a barrel. I don't plan on either of us ending up in it. whatever else you have to say about me, Agnes, it's gonna have to wait. now put this on." Lockwood offered her one of the robes he found.

she didn't move, her eyes frozen at his emotionless expression.
he raised his eyebrows, softened his eyes and opened up his mouth, "please, Agnes," he pleaded with her.
Agnes closed her mouth, looking at his extended hand for a second before looking up at him.

————————————————

my emotions are all over the place bc of this chapter, seriously. proud of myself ngl.

cause like angst 😍
then I cry a little because of my girl's FUCKED backstory
then proud of myself for writing such a descriptive chapter; I didn't know I could pull off that twin flame trope.

and sorry for keeping this one a little shorter than the others I just believe that the cut to the auction would ruin the emotions so... yeah.