❝I am not sure I would have wanted someone to translate my fate sooner. I am quite enjoying the surprise you are.❞
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| cressida x fem!oc |
| post-season 3 au |
| cross-posted on ao3 under the user @/holdthesun |
| disclaimer inside |
| Cat...
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𝕿he grass is somehow laughing with them.
It is an October afternoon and the sun has begun to sink into the earth, feeding the roots and the worms and the beatles. The trees sway above them in September's breeze.
'No no— just imagine her face—!' Eloise manages to get out between bouts of fitful cackles. Cressida's sides have split and she is doubled over, silently begging Eloise to stop for she cannot laugh any harder!
'Oh stop it, please!,' Cressida pleads, unable to laugh any harder. 'Goodness, I love you!' The words fall out of Cressida's mouth as light as her laughter. And it is the truth, though it tumbles out of her mouth hot and wrong and all at once. Cressida stops laughing, the world suddenly consumed by a stunned silence. Eloise's smile has fallen.
'W-what?'
'I had to tell you before...' Cressida struggles to find the words and figure out exactly where they are coming from. 'Before they take me away. I'm sorry, Eloise.'
Eloise sits dumbfounded, her fingers curled around her book loosening. It thumps onto the grass, pages furiously fluttering in the wind.
'I'm sorry, Eloise,' she repeats. 'But you have to know.' She can feel her eyes prickling with tears. 'I wasn't awake until I met you. Every day I see you, I live and every day I do not, I am a phantom, tortured by your absence.'
'No, no,' Eloise is shaking her head, rising to her feet, as if Cressida is a mouse and though Eloise is bigger and more formidable, she is scared of her panicked, scurrying feet.
Cressida cannot stop the barrage of confession— her tongue is an unrelenting tide.
'Your friendship is the only good thing that has ever happened to me. I will forever be grateful that our families crossed paths while I was out with my mother, for we might have never fostered a bond as lovely as this one. I have always feared that I am an ugly monster unworthy of love, but your friendship— your companionship— makes me feel beautiful.'
'Yes, friendship,' Eloise echoes in a mumble, nodding this time, as if Cressida is just another mystery of hers to solve. 'You have affection towards me for my friendship.'
'No...' Cressida rises to her feet, her eyes plead in ways her lips cannot. 'No, Eloise, I love you.' She grasps her hands. 'You are my friend but I wish we were—'
