Does the wolf cry over the sheep?

Jon Snow

June 5, 2015

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Kit

Kit was staring at the ceiling while Rose, his girlfriend, lay beside him, her gentle snores a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within him. He couldn't help but think of Emilia, his mind wandering to the rumors of her and Jai Courtney. The jealousy simmered, a low-burning fire he couldn't extinguish. What did she see in him? Was she laughing with him, kissing him, lost in his eyes? The questions swirled, taunting him, and he fought the urge to reach out, to ask, to know.

But he held back, unwilling to betray his own vulnerability. Instead, he turned his attention to Rose, her soft kisses and gentle touch were beautiful. Yet, even as he tried to lose himself in her, he couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness. He yearned for passion, for fire, for a connection that would consume him whole. Rose's gentle nature, though soothing, left him unfulfilled, and he felt like a wild animal, caged and pacing.

The call of the bar beckoned, a siren's song promising escape, if only for a little while. He dressed, grabbed his wallet, and slipped out into the night, leaving Rose's peaceful slumber behind. The bar's dim lights and murmured conversations enveloped him, and he ordered his second drink, promising himself he'd stop at four. But then, she appeared, a vision of dark hair and fair skin, her smile a whispered promise of secrets and sin.

Kit's resolve crumbled, and he succumbed to the temptation. Why not, indeed? Rose could have her gentle love, and he could have his passion, his fire, his escape.

As the night wore on, Kit suggested they move to a different hotel, one where he wasn't staying. The woman agreed, her eyes sparkling with a knowing glint. He told her he'd leave after a few hours, and she nodded, her smile a gentle curve. "Just between us," he whispered, and she promised, her voice a soft whisper in the darkness.

Kit lost himself in its folds, the stranger's name forgotten, her face a blur, as he sought to drown his thoughts, his feelings, his very soul.

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Kit crept back into the hotel room, the first light of dawn casting a pale glow over the sleeping form of Rose. He shed his shoes and shirt, his exhaustion palpable as he collapsed onto the bed. The soft rustle of Rose's breathing was a gentle lullaby, and he let himself drift off into a deep sleep.

But it was short-lived. Rose's voice pierced the morning air, "Kit?" she whispered, her eyes shining with concern as she sat beside him. Kit's gaze fluttered open, his voice hoarse as he replied, "Rose?" The clock on the bedside table read noon, and he couldn't believe he'd slept for so long. "Let me rest a little... I won't start filming the scenes for a week!" he pleaded, his voice laced with fatigue.

Rose leaned over, her gentle kiss a soft whisper on his lips. "Don't be lazy, get up! Let's see some places together!" Kit sighed, throwing an arm over his face, "Okay, just give me 10 minutes... I want to take a shower and get dressed." The weight of his secrets, of the previous night's escapades, hung heavy on his conscience, but he pushed them aside, focusing on the present moment.

As they strolled through the city, hand in hand, Rose's happiness was infectious. Her smile was bright and she looked so happy to have him with her. Kit, however, was a different story. His mind wandered, his thoughts consumed by the fans who dogged their every step, snapping photos from afar. He was used to it, but it still grated on him, the constant scrutiny, the lack of privacy.