Passion's Pitfalls

Chapter 11

The sight of Tristan on the floor, surrounded by shattered bottles and the remains of his artwork, was a shocking and upsetting sight. He was curled up in a ball, clutching another bottle of whiskey in his hand his knees, dumped on the floor. His eyes were red and glassy, and he seemed oblivious to the mess he was making. He took a swig of the alcohol, and it was clear that it was burning his throat as he coughed and sputtered. He looked unkempt and disheveled, a far cry from the confident and composed artist she knew. Emilia's arms were around him, as she tries to comfort him. But he was clearly not in his right mind, and he didn't want her help. He resisted her efforts to take the bottle from him, clutching it close to his chest.

Tristan's gaze was piercing, and Aurelia felt like she could see right into his soul. His eyes were filled with rage and hate, something she had never seen in him before. It was as if he was a completely different person. He looked at her with such intensity, as if he was accusing her of something. It was hard for her to hold his gaze, and she found herself looking away, unable to bear the weight of his stare.

"So you knew about it?" It was Emilia who snarled, her voice full of venom. Aurelia was confused and totally clueless of what Emilia was accusing her of.

"What do you mean? Knew about what?" she asked, her voice shaking. Emilia's face was contorted with anger and resentment, and her words came out in a rush but Tristan was too quick to shut her.

"Get out," he muttered, his voice was raspy from the liquor while his tone screamed finality, leaving no room for argument.

"Didn't you hear him?" It was Emilia again.

Aurelia was completely at a loss, her mind racing to try to make sense of the situation. One minute, she had been furious with Tristan, expecting an apology from him. The next, he was yelling at her, ordering her to leave his room. And Emilia - what had she been talking about? Or was she just trying to stir up trouble? Aurelia felt like she was in the middle of a hurricane, with no way to escape the chaos.

"It's the both of you. Leave"

Tristan's voice was hoarse and harsh as he spoke, the anger and pain evident in every syllable. His eyes were wild, and his hands were clenched into fists. Every muscle in his body was tense, and it was clear that he was struggling to contain his emotions. Aurelia could see the effort it was taking for him to keep it together, and she knew that at any moment, he could explode. The tension in the room was so thick, it was almost suffocating.

Under normal circumstances, the absurdity of the situation might have made Aurelia laugh -at Emilia, But there was nothing funny about this. The hurt and anger she felt towards Tristan, the confusion and betrayal. The tension between them was so intense, it felt like it was about to burst. She couldn't ignore it, no matter how much she wanted to. She had to face it, head on.

"Trist..--Fucking Get the hell out!"

Emilia's eyes darted around the room, her gaze landed on the door, and she made a beeline for it. She didn't look back at Tristan or Aurelia, her gaze fixed just firmly on the exit. Her footsteps were quick and light as she hurried out of the room, as if afraid of what might happen if she lingered any longer. She didn't say a word, just disappeared through the door. Aurelia tries to do the same, but Tristan's voice, barely a whisper, stopped her in her tracks. There was something in his tone that sounded desperate, almost pleading.

She turned back to face him, and for the first time, she saw the tears in his eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so broken. It was like she was seeing a different person than the one who had been shouting at her just moments before.

The impulse to go to Tristan, to comfort him and hold him close, was overwhelming. But something was holding her back -fear. It was like a wall had been erected between them, and she couldn't find a way to tear it down. She wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, but her feet were rooted to the floor. All she could do was watch him, unable do or say anything.

"Come close." He sounded so neutral, or perhaps, exhausted.

Aurelia felt like a mouse being coaxed by a snake, moving towards him even as her every instinct told her to run. But she found herself unable to resist his gesture, unable to fight the magnetic pull of his gaze. She moved closer, feeling like a puppet on a string. The closer she got, the more she could feel the tension in the air. It was a tension that was both electric and terrifying, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

He pulls out his resting chair and tells her to sit, he pulls out a chair also from the other corner of the studio and sits as he faced her, their knees almost touching. Her heart was still racing to her throat. She could feel Tristan's gaze on her, intense and focused. The air was charged with something she couldn't quite name. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The space between them felt impossibly small, and the silence was deafening. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "Aurelia," he calls out, his eyes fixed on hers.