The Colour of War

Chapter 15

Stefan stumbled after Evelyn, feelings of guilt and fear tormented him. Henri, his ever-present shadow, smirked. "What's wrong?" he asked, knowing full well what had transpired.

Stefan looked past him anxiously, his words slurring as he tried to explain. "She got the wrong idea. We were just talking, that's all. She was flirting, I suppose, but I didn't... I just let it happen. I'm an idiot."

"Come on, let's get you a drink," Henri urged. "Let Evelyn cool off. You haven't done anything wrong. She was flirting with you, wasn't she? You didn't kiss her or anything, so what's her problem?"

"Stop," Stefan growled, pushing Henri away. "I know how it looked to her, and I entertained it regardless."

"Stefan," Henri persisted, an insidious smirk on his lips as he nudged Stefan. "Look at her. She's waiting for you," he said, turning his friend around. "She's game. Why deny yourself? You don't even have to try."

Stefan shook his head just as a shot was thrust into his hand. Knocking it to the floor, he scowled at Henri before storming out. He took off down the street, turning back in his drunken haze and going the other way. His ears pricked up as he heard her laughter, his mind a concoction of confusion and anger.

He saw her in the shadows, her arm wrapped around a stranger's neck. She stumbled, and his hand gripped her waist. Stefan saw red; the anger was quick to take hold. The small voice that begged him to stop and think was drowned by the voice that demanded he lash out. He gripped the man's collar and slammed him against the wall.

"Get your damn hands off her," he hissed.

The man instinctively fought back, a swift fist hitting Stefan's lip and splitting it as blood dripped down his chin. Stefan relished in it, an unhinged look in his eye as he swung back, knocking the man down. "Don't get up on my account," he said, standing mockingly over him.

"Stefan, what are you doing?" Evelyn said horrified, latching onto his arm and pulling him back with all her might.

He turned to her, taking heavy breaths, then turned once more to assess the threat on the floor. He laughed a humorless, defeated laugh. "Nice to see you've moved on, but then it wouldn't be hard when you don't feel the same."

Evelyn stepped back, her eyes blazing with a fury he'd never seen. "Are you mad, Stefan? He was helping me up! My heel broke and I fell."

Stefan's eyes dropped to her broken shoe, realisation striking him hard. He turned to the man, who was now wiping the blood from his nose. "I'm... sorry..." he stammered, pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to the man, who aggressively batted it away while pinching his nose.

With one last anguished glance at Evelyn, the man stormed off, muttering curses under his breath about soldiers.

"Are you insane?" Evelyn hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side.

"I thought—"

"You thought wrong!" she cut him off. "How dare you accuse me when you're sitting in there with that woman all over you like that." The sharp scent of alcohol on him told her he wasn't in his right mind.

Stefan's expression shifted. The panic was gone, replaced by indifference. "I was just talking to her. She sat with me. She flirted with me. I didn't do anything but sit there."

"Yeah, sit there with that stupid grin on your face while she stroked your ego and God knows what else."

"Don't be so vulgar. Nothing of the sort happened," he said defensively.

"So she wasn't basically throwing herself at you?"

"Nothing happened." He ineptly dodged the question.