Bridgeton one shots

Heartbreaks from the past

𝓑𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓽𝔁𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 (𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓷𝓾𝓭𝓲𝓽𝔂/𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰)

𝒮𝑜𝓃𝑔 -𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝟣 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁𝑜𝓇 𝒮𝓌𝒾𝒻𝓉-

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It was dark, too dark for a Bridgerton to be roaming the streets of London some may even say a dishonor. Yet Benedict didn't seem to care as he made his way across the cobblestone square, a satchel swinging from his left shoulder as he directed himself towards a dark inn.

Benedict Bridgerton was the third eldest Brother often overlooked by his family, the exact reason he was able to sneak out so late. Anthony and his Mother would have harshly scolded him for his misappropriations but he wasn't in a fuss over the matter. Both of his two brothers and sister had found a match. Yes, they had found them through luck he thought to himself but nonetheless, he did not see reason to find a partner both Anthony and Collin were in good health and young he would have years to inherit the role of Lord. Though his mother had pushed this idea into his head like a dagger in the back. She would not let it go.

He now spent his time learning the fine arts of drawing by mostly observing naked women and trying to define each curve on paper. Benedict had been doing this for the past years under a secrecy of some sort, a drink or two a sketch it all seemed to calm him from the ever-growing pressure of his mother's death to make him marry. Tonight was particularly special it was a long session night the inn owner had permitted them to carry on with drinks and arts till daybreak, something of a rarity as sessions usually lasted an hour at most due to the ever-growing suspicion of his mother.

As he reached the door it was thrown open by a man tall in stature and dark brown hair. "Ben" he exclaimed pulling Benedict inside for a hug. "Arthur, how good to see you I haven't expected you to be here" "Ah yes I found a way to sneak out, you know how the wife gets with these things" he winked at Benedict. Entering a dimly lit room with a platformed stage set in the middle he looked around for a seat to take up, finding one he sank into the velvet seated chair and began pulling pen and paper out of his satchel he took note of the platform. It was decorated with a purple velvet chair and some purple clear-lined linen and that was it. Turning to Arthur "Do you perhaps know who is on tonight?" he questioned "No I wasn't told Delay could not make it tonight and I believe Tom and Lilia are both out of the country on travels" Delay, Tom, and Lila were the usual muses they sketched in the late hours of night. Others could sit but there was another similar art one must have to conduct such art. "Gentleman please" John the owner motioned for the men to sit as he held up his whiskey glass. "We are here with the special grace of having a full session on this night" the men in the space cheered raising their glasses and caps, Benedict gave an appreciative grin. "Now as some of you know our usual guests" he motioned towards the stages "are out on travel, but we have the special honor of our model being ms Y/L/N so please give her a warm welcome and thanks for taking up this position and making the travel in" Benedict's mouth opened into a perfect o as she stepped out into the dimly lit roam. He hadn't seen her, you for over a year the history you both had been enough to make you move halfway across the country. She didn't seem to see Benedict as she made her way into the dimly lit room, her purple robe dragging on the floor as she made her way to the stage. She comfortably adjusted herself to a pose on the velvet chair, "Well it's always a pleasure to..." she stopped mid-sentence her eyes had found Benedict in his seat his mouth still in a perfect o. She blinked then turned back to John giving no seem of recognition towards the man who had once laid with her. "Well then I shall let you boys get to sketching then," she said moving the robe slowly off her body

Many people had put prejudice on this form of art assuming the men who were a part of the fine art were in it for the sexual innuendo. Yet that was quite the opposite, the sound of scratching filled the room as the art began. But Benedict could not bring the pen to paper he just sat there entranced that the fact woman he had once loved and thought had seen the last of was sitting in front of him again. Y/N wasn't anyone of prestige that was precisely why the relationship had indeed ended he couldn't possibly be with her or love her. But seeing her sitting there her defined neck flickering in the illuminated low glow of candlelight Benedict began to question his definitive choice. There was a feeling nagging him a warm feeling pooling in the bottom of his stomach. This scene was all too familiar, she had been his model only his. The late nights the two had spent together may be gone but they had left soft memories floating through his mind. Just like the snow floating around outside, often when he would wrap himself around her on those cold nights. He himself was no whore rarely did he find lovers and rarely did he go to brothels. Not to say he had no experience in the lay of that land but in this reform, Y/N was often the one to take the lead, and Benedict was perfectly fine with that. He breathed in deep she was almost close enough for him to smell her, the scent of lavender and pine often hovering around her.

As time passed, the scratching of pens against paper filled the air, creating an atmosphere of focused creativity. Benedict, however, found himself unable to concentrate for obvious reasons. His gaze remained fixed on Y/N, the woman who had once been his muse and lover

Y/N seemed to be completely unaware of Benedict's presence for the rest of the night, or at least she gave no sign of recognition. She had always been a woman of simple elegance, and tonight was no exception. Her movements were graceful as she adjusted her pose now and then on the velvet chair, the candlelight casting a soft glow on her features.

As the session progressed, Benedict felt a growing desire to speak with Y/N, to perhaps bridge the gap that had formed between them. Although he had been the one to cut away from her he felt a pull. When the session finally ended, he decided to quickly and quietly pack up and wait outside the inn, hoping to see her just for a moment.

The cold air outside hit Benedict like a wave as he stepped back onto the cobblestone street. The snow was falling gently, creating a soft blanket of white over the city. He spotted Y/N standing not far from the entrance, her breath visible in the chilly air.

"Y/N," Benedict called out, his voice slightly hesitant.

Y/N turned towards him, her expression unreadable. "Benedict," she replied, her voice cool no sign of emotion. That was always her thought she had been able to pull away from reality with ease. Something Benedict had never mastered, he rather wore his heart on his sleeve.

"I... I wanted to talk to you," Benedict began, struggling to find the right words. "I... I've missed you."

Y/N's eyes softened slightly at his words, but she remained guarded. "It's been a long time, Benedict," she said softly. "A lot has changed."

"I know," Benedict said, taking a step closer to her. "But some things haven't changed. I still care about you, Y/N. I know what I did I can't change that I can't take the words that I've said" he stopped

Y/N looked away, a hard expression on her face. "Benedict, we can't...," she started, "you broke me, you promised you'd be there for me, and then one night you run for what? Because I'm not a proper girl" she sighed a strand of hair falling from her braid. Benedict stepped forward "I know what I've done but I want you I see that now I just needed time" he leaned in but before he could touch what he had lost she put her hand up. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they stood there in the snow looking at each other.

"I... I can't do this, Benedict, I have self-respect I can't give that to you again. I thought you were the one I did " she whispered, "but you've made your choice and now I have to make mine" Their eyes locked the warmth they had once shared holding them there. Before turning she turned fleet into the night, leaving Benedict alone in the falling snow. His heart is heavy like the drops of snow that begin to land faster. And the silence echoed down the square as Y/N's figure drew away and swallowed itself into the night.