Crimson peak re-telling (Reader x Tomas Sharpe)

ℭℌą℘ţℯr VIII

Would you be mine

The dreams that had started to come made you blush even in slumber. Thomas' hot body pressed against your naked flesh was something you had dared only imagine in the confines of your room at night. Your subconscious was not messing around. It knew what it wanted: Thomas. It had gotten to the point where you would giggle to yourself at how happy he had made you. It was incredibly foolish and you made sure to chastise yourself, but at the same time you invited the tingling sensations that every thought of Thomas aroused in you.

When he didn't call on you for a few days, you were merely disappointed. Apparently he had actual business to attend to. After all, he was here to raise money for his inventions. However, after the week had gone by with ne'er a word from the man, you began to doubt yourself. Had his proclamations of love on the street been a farce? Had he had time to think about them and realize they were untrue? No, surely he was just busy... And yet that nagging sensation in the pit of your stomach tugged all day and night. Your father had gone away on another business trip leaving even less distractions for you.

Day after day went by and still Thomas said nothing. You began to grow angry. Fine, you thought. You didn't need him. You never needed him. Wanted him, sure. But you never needed him. You didn't need anyone. You were enough for yourself. You always had been. You made sure to repeat that mantra over and over, forcing yourself to believe it. You tried to write, but were still stuck on the love story. Every time you put your pen to paper, an image of Thomas would be conjured and you had to put the pen down again.

Sitting at your desk, you pulled out a new piece of paper. If Thomas was going to ignore you out of some childish fear to face ending things with you, you would give him a piece of your mind. When you began the address and salutations, your mind reeled with hateful things to say. How could he just abandon you with no explanation? How could he say those thing and then take them back by silence?

But as the wind whipped outside your window, and the snow fell peacefully onto the ground, your heart settled. The words that may have once held malice came out more as regret and sorrow. You poured your broken heart onto the page, explaining to Thomas that he had become your world. You explained what it was like to finally feel wanted and loved, and how it tore your heart to have that ripped away.

With a tear smudging your signature, you folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. You felt a little light headed as you found Margaret in the kitchen and handed her the letter, explaining that she should go to where the Sharpes were staying and hand this to Thomas. Her worried expression did nothing to lessen the pain in your chest and you turned away before she could offer pity or sympathy.

You waited for her to return, cursing the quietness of the empty house. You avoided the dining room where you and Thomas had spent your first meal together, and instead hid upstairs in your dark room. Watching outside the window, you finally saw Margaret returning, huddled in her jacket against the stormy winds. You walked calmly downstairs, ready for her tale of Thomas' indifference.

"Well?" you asked evenly.

Margaret hung up her coat and wiped her feet on the mat. She looked at you awkwardly.

"There was no one home, miss," she explained. "The house they were renting was empty. I left the letter in their mailbox with quite a few other unopened letters."

So they had been gone for quite a while then, you surmised.

"Thank you," was all you could force out before needing to turn around and run back upstairs.

The next few days were even more torturous. You thought the letter might give you clarity, closure, but it had not. Not knowing how Thomas was truly feeling left you feeling open and exposed. You paced your room, hating yourself for letting a man make you feel this uncomfortable.