"she was the type of person who'd explain how she was going to stab you in the front before she actually shoved the knife in... and you'd let her.
she'd probably even pass the knife to you so you can shove it in your own chest...and you would."
tom...
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t o m h a d done nothing all day except send one last letter. It was not his nerves; it was something deeper in him that had made him stay still and silent. He had not wanted to run to Evelyn. He had not wanted to tell her anything that he might regret. He needed to finish this before he could begin anew.
When the moon rose, Tom waited in his traveling cloak by the front door. He wrapped the scarf Evelyn had made him all those weeks ago around his neck without realizing how laughable it would be to wear it into the heart of a lion's den.
She emerged shortly after him, seemingly just as ready to end this. Her deep green travel cloak parted to show her dress beneath. Tom expected to see an extravagant assembly that emphasized just who Grindelwald had sent to destroy him, but it was nothing but a simple white dress. It reminded Tom of the images of witches who were burned at the stake. The rough linen shifts that would be consumed by the flames faster than the body that wore them.
He shook his head at the morbidity of it. This was nothing like that. It was just a dress, and Evelyn was a girl who had never been innocent. The witches who burned had always been the ones who didn't fight to get away. They were always the ones who deserved to live the most.
Evelyn did not say a word. She only reached her hand out to him in preparation to apparate. She had been the only one of them to have ever been to the infamous prison that Grindelwald had built. Before they touched, Evelyn looked at him as if taking him all in. It was the second time that day that she had so thoroughly observed him. He wondered if she knew exactly what was going to happen. But, she didn't, she would never have taken his hand and apparated him into the large sitting room.
Tom didn't know what he was expecting, but what he landed amongst was not it. The room was sparsely decorated, but its darkness was evident. The rug underneath their feet was as red as blood. The few seats that circled the fireplace were black velvet. Tom stared into the roaring fire in the large, ornate golden hearth so that he wouldn't focus on his hesitation. Wouldn't look at Evelyn's hand that had twisted violently into her cloak.
"There is no need to worry," Evelyn spoke, but it was almost as if she had meant to think those words, for she turned to him, startled, before her expression smoothed over. "I would never let him hurt you, Tom."
"Evelyn–"
"No, let me finish," Evelyn closed her eyes. "I have always tried to keep you from him. I was being selfish, but I needed you. I still need you. I know it is silly for me to repeat it. It's weak, but I love you, Tom. I will do everything in my power to get you out if things go wrong. I would destroy worlds for you, too."
Tom wanted her to stop. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted to return to their apartment. He wanted to bring her down onto the couch and show her what those words meant to him. He wanted everything to be different.
