The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

22.

Massey

Theon stormed off from the practicing yard, slinging mud left and right off of his doublet. I sat watching from my window or this stone wall as he was knocked down on many occasions, but he scarcely reacted like this. I wondered— no, I knew it had something to do with me. The rain had begun to pick up yet again, darker clouds rolling in by the second.

"Ridiculous," Robb blurted out once Theon was too far away to hear.

"He'll be fine," Jon assured me after observing my reaction. He was always one step ahead of where my head was at.

Still, I couldn't help but to worry. I bit down on the inside of my lip, unsure if I should risk following him. It was apparent that he didn't want to speak with me, or with anyone, but I couldn't help myself. After a few moments, I gave into the impulse.

"Might as well check, if it's all the same to you."

"Be my guest," Jon muttered as I slid off of the wall.

Behind me, I could hear the boys begin to gather their things. Racing the weather, I quickened my pace after Theon. He was nimble when he was angry, apparently, because he seemed impossibly far ahead of me. I watched him exit the gates toward Wintertown, and I hurried to do the same. Once through the gates, however, I found no sign of him. He must have dipped into one of the abandoned homes to avoid the weather. I checked one, in which I found no occupants. I searched a second one, which was also empty aside from a rat that scurried out of the door entirely too close to my feet. Then another, which was not. Upon entering, I found Theon's muddy doublet on the cold stone floor. He stood in just his bottoms and boots, beginning to light a fire.

"Oh," I blurted out, pulling my eyes from his bare chest. "I'm sorry. I, um, I didn't mean to barge in. I was just...worried about you."

Theon dropped his arms, still holding the tunic he had just taken off. "What do you want?" He asked defensively, the harsh sound of his voice rivaling the rain from outside.

"I just wanted to see that you were alright. Something seems to be bothering you today."

He took a few steps forward to rummage for some cloth in what was left of the trunks around us, which was when I noticed the thin trail of blood coming from his bottom lip. He peeked out of an open window facing the castle before shutting it behind him to prevent the now heavy rain from blowing in.

"The rain is going to get worse. I'm sure Robb and Jon have returned inside. You should join them. I'm fine."

"You're not," I persisted, backing into a table on the wall opposite of him that was covered in different utensils and dusty plates. Something was off. He must have been angry about last night. "You're cross with me."

"Cross with you?"

He ceased his rummaging and turned his body to me completely. I crossed my arms, partially for warmth and partially to prepare for whatever he had to say. What little sunlight the storm had allowed through the clouds had scarcely found this room, but I could see him clearly in the firelight.

"Massey, I am consumed by you," he confessed as though it were the most plain statement in the world, and I was a fool for not seeing it before. He took slow steps toward me as he spoke, my heart pounding  in my chest. "I was clueless to how alone I was before you arrived. Every moment, every single moment that we've spent together has been the most meaningful of my life. Every laugh, every brief glance. I lie awake at night thinking of you, thinking of these moments, and when I fall asleep, you're with me again in my dreams. But, when I wake up, I'm reminded all over again that I cannot have you. It's becoming too much to bear." He looked as though the truth of his own words were the sourest thing to ever touch his tongue.