PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER FOURTY NINE

~

il

sunshine and rainbows and sheer utter agony

~

ABOUT AN HOUR later, Alice sat on the edge of her bed, running her fingers through Onyx's fur.

The tears had stopped falling a while ago.

The black cat purred softly, distracting her from her thoughts. If all else failed, at least they had each other. Alice let her eyes stray to the mirror in the corner of her room.

She was still in the same dress. There was a cut on her right temple from when she'd fell. But there was a strange look in her eyes that she didn't know if she liked or not.

Like anger, but something else.

In a way, Alice thought she looked a lot like her mother, and that terrified her. There was power in that cemetary, and though it was agonising to fight against Bickerstaff, there was a part of her that enjoyed it.

Enjoyed summoning that lightning and giving herself into the shadows.

And then the door knocked.

Alice turned. It must have been Lucy. "Come in."

Onyx hissed.

Lockwood made his way up the stairs, holding a tray of first aid supplies.

Alice blinked, shrinking away slightly.

"Hi," he said, rather breathless as he hesitated on the top step. "I know I look like Anthony Lockwood, but I'm not. I'm actually a fully qualified doctor."

Alice stared at him, clenching her jaw. "Good. Because he was a massive prick to me just now." She surveyed him for a moment, standing defeated and heistant. There was a look in his eyes that felt almost foreign to her.

Gentleness, comfort.

Part of the reason that Alice realised that she was so hopelessly drawn to him was that he was gentle. He was kind.

Perhaps he wouldn't kill her.

Onyx jumped down, and Alice shifted lightly, moving so that she sat at the edge of the bed with her legs hanging off. She looked down, nodding and muttering a small agreement to him, allowing him to walk inside and sit beside her. He set the tray down beside him and cleared his throat lightly, "I'm not sure what I should..."

Alice sat closer to him, handing him her arm.

His skin was warm against hers, and he touched her so gently it was as if he feared she might break. He pulled up her sleeve, inspecting the wound with a frown.

It was no longer bleeding, and it still hurt, but Alice hadn't given it any thought. She'd had worse injuries before.

He grabbed a wet cloth from the tray, "This is gonna hurt."

"Thanks for the warning," Alice replied, her voice low.

He began to clean the wound, not looking up at her. "I was - I was orphaned at the age of six. So, uh... I guess you already know that I don't like talking that much about my past. And that's what's behind that door." His voice was quiet and wavered, like he had been crying.

Alice couldn't meet his eyes. She simply watched as he held her arm, wiping away the blood and cleaning her cut. "I'm sorry."

Lockwood continued to speak, clearing his throat again, "And, uh, you and Lucy used it to convince me that - not only is she one of the only two people in the world to be able to talk to ghosts, but that we have a real, sentient Type Three in our house. Two events with a one in a billion possibility - and the chances of you two being right are-"

"Practically none," Alice whispered, interrupting him. She let her gaze flicker to him, finally searching his face with her eyes. "I know."

"It's just..." he trailed off for a moment, grabbing a large plaster and beginning to bandage the wound as he spoke, "When you like the spotlight as much as I do, it's an adjustment to realise that the real reason you're here is to shine it on someone else."

Alice's eyes widened, she stared at Lockwood for a moment, looking into his eyes. "You believe her?" she breathed.

Lockwood nodded, smiling slightly, "I believe her."

Alice smiled, chuckling slightly, "I guess that makes her quite the asset."

Lockwood shook his head, grabbing the cloth again and tilting her head. "I'm not going to make that mistake again," he assured, his voice low. He cupped her face in his hand, cleaning the cut on her temple. "I've realised that I wasn't being a very good leader."

Alice chuckled, leaning into his touch. "I think you're the best leader." She realised then how close he was. So close that she could feel the heat of his breath, and see the little flecks in eyes where the dark brown met with chocolate brown. There were a few freckles splayed out on his face, and she was close enough that she could count them.

Lockwood searched her face, his gaze flickering rapidly between her eyes and her lips.

It was like they were there for an age, just staring at each other, not moving, not saying anything. His hand was still cupping her face.

Alice's eyes fickered to his lips.

And like a thread, it was like everything snapped.

Lockwood leaned forwards, pressing his lips against her,  and the world stopped moving. Everything was on fire, Alice felt like she had tapped into her magic, but it was a thousand times more euphoric. His touch on her made sparks fly, and for that moment, it was as if all time stopped, like everything seized to exist.

Alice hadn't realised that her eyes were closed until they fluttered open again.

His forehead was against hers, and his hand was still cupping her face.

"Lockwood-" she began.

"Anthony," he interrupted, his voice barely a whisper. Alice felt like she had turned to stone as he looked at her with those brown eyes. "Call me Anthony."

"Anthony," Alice corrected, testing the name out on her tongue. Her eyes flickered from his lips to his eyes again. Somehow, she had a hand on the curve of his neck, her fingers almost entangling in his hair, although she didn't remember putting it there. "I-I don't understand..." she trailed off.

He looked down at her, eyes wide, "Let me help you understand." And then he leaned forwards again, tilting his head and pressing his lips to hers again.

Alice kissed back this time, melting into his touch and praying for the moment to last forever.

Until, breathless, and shoked, the both of them parted. Alice looked up at him in a mixture of shock and wonder but also sheer admiration. Alice hadn't realised, but her left arm was still upturned from when he was cleaning her wound. His other hand was by hers, their fingers intertwined.

"We'll go carefully," Anthony assured, "I promise." He tilted her head and kissed her forehead comfortingly.

For the first time in Adelaide Deane's life, she felt completely and utterly safe.