Until The Clock Stikes (NACS Remake)

Chapter 5

Thomas and I are still laying in the grass when my stomach let's out a loud protest to me leaving dinner early.
He laughs and stands, sticking out a hand to help me up. He tilts his head for me to follow him, deeper into the garden, I watch his frame.
He doesn't carry himself like boy who's six feet tall and muscular, but none the less he is.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"To get you some food." He answers as if it's obvious.
A small cottage comes into view.
The stone path is worn and the grass is freshly cut.
"You live here?" I ask in awe.
He bites his lips, opening the door for me.
"It used to be me and my mother, we were the groundskeepers. It's just me now."
The kitchen right off from the front door is worn and lived in with pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, a nook table set, a tea pot on the stove and an empty vase on the counter. He goes to the fridge grabbing out two tomatoes, garlic and an onion.
"Oh no, you don't have to cook for me." I say, taking the ingredients out of his hand and setting them on the counter.
His eyes are warm, he steps closer to me, my back hits the edge of the counter and my breath is no where to be seen.
He grabs the ingredients from behind me.
"No, but I want to." He replies, stepping back to grab a knife from the butcher's block.
I sit at the table watching him.
"Do you go making dinner for every crying girl?" I inquire playfully.
"Do you save every girl from falling off a balcony?" He shoots back, tone light, but his question is a prompting one.
"I'd like to think I would." I answer honestly.
He doesn't answer at first and I get the feeling he's not used to talking to someone or maybe anyone.
"You're the first." He says finally.
"I really hope that's because I'm the first crying girl you've ever come across and not because you suck at cooking."
He laughs out loud in a burst and I am mesmerized by the sound.
"Hopefully the former." He answers, turning on a pan.
When he sets the plates in front of us I'm so hungry I practically shovel some into my mouth, only to figure out its scalding and spend a minute skipping it around my mouth and breathing like a dragon.
"The spaghetti may or may not be extremely hot." He warns.
I stare at him for a minute just shaking my head.
"Well shit!" I exclaim sarcastically. "Nice to know."
He scrunches up his face and nods at me. "Just doing my duty mam. No need to thank me."
"Good thing I wasn't going to." I reply taking another bite, chewing slow. "But really. Thank you." I say after a minute.
"Does that mean my food isn't terrible?" He asks with a look of fake shock. He smiles at me, really smiles.
"It could use more salt." I amend.
The salt container is to his left and with deft fingers he throws a pinch at me.
Deeply offended I retaliate by smearing some sauce on his nose.
He waggles his eyebrows and without warning he throws me over his shoulder and spins me around until I'm screaming.
"Thomas! Put me down!" I'm laughing so hard that he obliges setting me down he pushes a mug of tea at me and wave a napkin pushing the sugar at me.
"Remind me next food fight to dodge and weave." He says wiping at his nose but completely missing the sauce.
"Come here." I tell him pushing his hair up his forehead because somehow he got it in his hair.
His eyes watch me as I wipe off the sauce from his face.
"There's something familiar about you." I admit, studying his dark eyes.
He bites his lip and steps away grabbing his own mug and leaning against the sink.
"It's late." He says, watching me drink my tea. "I could walk you back to your room, or if you want you can stay in my guest room." I don't really like either idea, and I think he reads it on my face because he rubs the back of his neck and sit next to me.
"Or we can just sit here for awhile."
"I like the third option." I respond, relaxing into the seat.
There's a ukulele on the floor and I furrow my eyebrow picking it up.
He hangs his head, embarrassed.
"I only know like, one song." He insists but now I'm interested and I shove it at him.
He starts to tune it and looks at me through thick eyelashes.
"Any requests?" He asks.
I shake my head. "I at least wanna give you a chance to do well." I answer and there he is again opening up with laughter.
"You are a jerk." He states, placing his fingers on the strings.
The knock on the door is sharp and apparent, with a sigh, Thomas sets down the instrument and answers the doors.
A worried looking Prince Will steps in. I'm confused on why he's here and then he pulls me into a hug as if he's known me his entire life.
"I was worried about you." He says pulling back and gaging the situation. Thomas stands rigid still, and I grab his elbow.
His kind face turns to my questioning one. "Go on." He whispers, chuckling.
I step over the threshold only to turn back and throw my arms around him. He freezes under my touch for a second before squeezing me back.
"Thank you. For not asking." I say, watching him close the door.
Prince Will grabs my hand and seems to be on a mission.
"Come on" he says eagerly. "I've got something to show you."
We sit in the music room, side by side at the piano. There's this energy flowing from him as he finally touches the keys. The songs is slow and beautiful, something I've heard before.
"When people die." He starts, taking his hands off the keys. "They don't disappear, they leave pieces of themselves everywhere. In a song, a memory." He doesn't speak again for a moment and I wait for him to finish but I guess that all he needed to say.
"Prince Will."
"Please." He interrupts. "Call me, Will."
His smiles is warm like rays of sunshine. And he fumbles, wrapping his arms around me.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." He whispers.
"You were more confident with the mask on." I remark.
"I only spoke to one person at the festival." He replies, letting go.
"Small world?" I ask, picking up the song where he had left off, it was something my father taught me.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me which one of you it was that actually saved Clare?" He asks, watching me play.
I smile. "Isn't it fun not knowing?" I ask.
Will chews it over. "Not even a little bit." He laughs, his blue eyes are bright.
A pair of brown eyes behind a black mask flash in my mind and I undoubtedly agree with him.

Not knowing isn't fun at all.