Crimson peak re-telling (Reader x Tomas Sharpe)

ℭℌą℘ţℯr XV

Promises and sabotage

The morning light did little to defer the dark thoughts that still swarmed your brain like locusts. The night's discoveries had not led to anything pleasant. You did not want to think about them because to think would be to realize that you were not safe in your own home. You awoke before Thomas and dreaded the moment he arose. He looked so calm and peaceful asleep and you did not wish him to awaken the thoughts you had stirred.

When he did finally open his eyes, he found you staring at him.

"Is everything alright?" he asked groggily. Neither of you had slept well and it showed.

"As alright as can be," you answered.

He took your hand and kissed it softly.

"Would it be terrible of me to leave you alone today?" he asked. "I know after last night... It can't have been easy."

You sighed. Although you were scared, it was not of the ghosts, as perhaps it should have been. You were more afraid of what the spirits seemed to be afraid of: Lucille.

"You want to work on your machine?" you guessed. He nodded. "I have kept you to myself long enough," you noted, having stolen him for a whole day. "If it is important to you, I want you to do it."

He gave a sad smile.

"I'm so close," he said enthusiastically. That familiar glint of excitement lit up his eyes at the discussion of his work. "I have most of it working perfectly. It just seems to be the parts in the basement that won't work properly. The part of the machine that deposits the clay always rusts or breaks. Perhaps it is the atmosphere in the dank basement, but whatever it is, I can't seem to get a handle on it."

"I'm sure you will," you assured him. "You're quite intelligent and tenacious." He smirked.

"Tenacious?" he asked. "Isn't it a bit early for such a vocabulary?" He teased you as he leaned in to kiss you. Reveling in the feeling of his lips on yours you almost forgot about all that plagued you. "If I can figure this machine out, we could sell it... And we could leave this place."

You sat back to look at him.

"Leave?" you asked. He nodded.

"This house has seen too much darkness," he said gravely. "With the money from the machine we could start over. Just the two of us."

Just the two of us. No Lucille, then. That was new.

"What would happen to Lucille?" you asked shyly.

Thomas shrugged.

"She's a grown woman. It is time we learned to grow up and become independent of each other. It has been a long time coming."

You were surprised by this declaration. It seemed he was becoming less and less attached to Lucille. It made you happy of course, but you wondered how much he suspected of her. Did he think, as you did, that she might be responsible for their mother's death? You did not believe so, not yet any way. It took a lot to shake away the blindness caused by love and co-dependence.

"I would love that," you said. "A nice little house, somewhere warm."

"With a garden," he added.

"And a library," you countered. A smile spread across both your faces.

"Soon," he promised, leaning over and pressing his lips to your collarbone.

Watching Thomas leave was heart wrenching, even if it was only onto the grounds. Thomas assured you that it was not as dangerous in the snow as you feared. The machine needed to be cleaned off, which would take the better part of the morning, in order to keep the gears in good shape.