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Lying in bed, on the sheets as cold as the night that prevailed in London, the young girl felt like the greatest failure.
Maybe it was just the effect of a depressing winter without snow and ice, and maybe it was because for the first time she didn't know where to go and what to do.
So she got out of bed and put on her winter coat and leather boots before leaving the house. She didn't consider the possibility that Walburga Black might be furious that the girl was walking around so freely, because the woman was certainly no threat to her.
The streets were almost empty as she tried to find a good place where she could just sit and think. She needed a breath of air as if the one in her lungs wasn't enough.
She was so engrossed in her self-destructive thoughts that she didn't even look where she was going or which street she was taking. Her feet guided her and she paid no attention to looking around her circumstances. But when she was finally pulled out of her thoughts by the siren of a car in the distance, she looked around and found herself in an unfamiliar part of the city.
Although it didn't bother her too much, the girl sat down on a nearby bench and watched a couple of drunken passers-by with newfound curiosity. She wondered what was the reason for their drunkenness. Were they celebrating or mourning so alcohol was involved?
She was looking at the person approaching her from a distance, the figure was very familiar but her tired eyes refused to make out the person's identity, so she just waited for them to come closer.
"Love, what are you doing out at this late hour? You know this part of London is dangerous, right?" His voice wasn't as cheerful as usual, but it wasn't monotonous either.
Ascella liked his voice. Especially now that he spoke to her with such tenderness and a bit of concern.
Barty sat down on the bench next to her, not too close because he knew she didn't like it, but not too far that she didn't think he didn't want her anymore.
Because he wants her. Still. Every part of her being. Barty wants. He wants to be able to touch her hand without her threatening to cut off his reproductive organ and shove it up his nose. He wants to be able to tell her how he really feels without her interrupting him or simply walking away.
But he will save all that until the right moment. He consoled himself.
"I'm thinking." Her soft voice was heard after a while. Barty had never heard her say her words so softly.
He had always secretly liked how independent Ascella was, though he wished she was a little more gentle with him. After all, maybe Barty didn't want to soften Ascella, maybe he just wanted her to let him love her in his own twisted and unique way.
He leaned back on the bench as tiny flakes of winter blanket began to fall. His gaze wandered between the raven haired girl next to him and the sky itself. The smile playing on his rosy lips reflected pure peace and contentment.
