thief - lw&co [anthony lockwood]

30.

fisrt-person (erin)

The cab ride to the house was painfully quiet.

Every attempt at conversation by Lockwood was ignored by both Lucy and me.

The cab stopped, and we soon got out, Lucy slightly slamming the door behind her.

"Could either of you say something? I can't stand it anymore. Rin... please," Lockwood complained, receiving no response. "We won. We beat Winkman. We got the mirror. It's safe with Barnes. George will be home soon. Both of you can relax. It's over."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" I turned around harshly. "We nearly died tonight, all because of a bloody bet you made because you're so full of yourself." I pointed an accusatory finger at him. "And now," I raised my voice, "every single relic hunter in London is out for us." I huffed. "What are we doing this for, Lockwood? What does any of it matter if we end up getting stabbed?" We stood, silently staring at each other, with Lucy not far behind me.

"What's the point?" My voice broke. "This doesn't feel like winning." I sniffled and turned around, walking towards the house.

Lucy unlocked it, and we quietly stepped in. I kicked my boots off and left the door ajar, assuming Lockwood wouldn't be far behind.

I walked up the stairs toward the bathroom, craving a nice, steamy bath.

As soon as I stepped in, I could feel the warmth comforting me. I silently toyed with the foam and bubbles covering the surface, letting the sound of running water relax me.

I closed my eyes and dunked my head a few times, scrubbing away the grime of the mud from the river.

I wanted to stay in the bath forever, never getting out.

As a nervous tic, I fiddled with my necklace, soon realizing it was the one Lockwood gave me. I sighed, displeased.

A soft knock was heard.

"Um... I'm making tea." Lockwood's soft voice came through the wooden door. "Do you want a cuppa?"

I didn't respond.

I heard a soft mumble, indicating he was still on the other side.

"Rin? Can I come in?" he asked.

He was once again met with silence.

I heard the door open, quite hesitantly.

The boy of my dreams peeked his head in, making sure to only look at my face. But once he realized only my shoulders and knees were poking out of the water, and the rest of me was covered in bubbles, he stepped in.

He leaned on the sink, silently staring at me.

"I'm sorry." Were his words, I stared back. "You were right. I got carried away." He fumbled and avoided my eyes. "I was reckless." Another silence followed. He crouched down, and we sat at the same level. "I just wanted to say, don't leave." He pleaded. "Don't give up on the agency." I frowned slightly. "Or... what I should say is, don't give up on me..." He inched closer and tucked my wet hair behind my ear. I could feel his hand tremble.

"With you here, getting hurt while working isn't an option. Or getting strapped and ending up at the bottom of the Thames has become a far less appealing place to be..."

I gave him a sympathetic look.

"Could you brush my hair?" I said, easing the tension. His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled slightly.

"Yes." He soon picked up a hairbrush and untangled my hair.

The bathroom was once again filled with silence.