Darlin' [Jay Gatsby - Discontinued]

Chapter 9 - The Box

09.| Chapter 9

"Nick's already left Darlin'"

With a pitiful sigh, Nick steps softly through the glass doors, heading over to his shaking yet peaceful sister, still grasped tightly in Gatsby's arms. Feet stepping on the stone quietly, until he reaches her, gently grasping her fingers from around Gatsby's waist, enveloping his hand over hers and tugging her softly out of his grasp. Reluctantly Rose steps away from Gatsby, bringing her free hand to quickly wipe at her face, her eyes gazing over to find Nicks, whom in return smiles at her weakly, softly pulling her towards him and back into the house.

Turning around gracefully, Rose shifts her head towards the door, motioning Gatsby to follow, his tearful frown turning into a worshipping smile, his pearls shining for a moment in his mouth before his smile turns into a thin lipped smile, shaking himself gently and straitening his suit, Gatsby brings a quick hand up to his unruly hair, pushing his palm across the falling strands, his gaze flashing down to the ground before he follows the siblings inside.

"You go get cleaned up, I'll make some tea for you both and then I'll head into town, leave you to alone for a while" Nick whispers to Rose, nudging her side gently, wiggling his eyebrows, Rose grimaces, her eyes darkening and lips pulling into a frown before giggling lightly and walking off into her room.

Stepping into her room with a sigh, Rose shuts the door gently behind her, hearing it click softly, murmurs of voices disappearing into the next room. Biting her lip and smiling towards the ground, an excited breath struggles from her throat, her body launching forward, landing perfectly on her bed, bouncing upwards slightly from the springs. Rose squeals into the duvet, completely overwhelmed and reeling from the events of before, did she finally have him back? Collecting herself, Rose removes the sheets on her duvet, regrettably getting the bedding soaking from the water clinging to her body, throwing them on the floor, dancing around the room to gather things that would make her feel like herself again.

The woman staring back at her was foreign, somewhat unrecognisable, even though the girl mimicked everything Rose did, she still couldn't recognise the girl in the mirror. Long, thick yarns of brunette hair tumbles in front of her eyes, gathering together in stiff chunks, smudges of a light greying black rests under her eyes, lights streaks falling down her pale cheeks. Sighing, Rose gently picks up the off white rag submerged in a wooden bowl, full with cold soapy water, grabbing the towel in both hands, Rose rings the cloth tightly, hearing the melodic sound of water dripping and rippling back into the water. Shaking it gently, she unravels the rag, swiping across her face gently, under her eyes, around her mouth, across her pale face. The coolness soothing her beating body.

Placing the rag down, now stained with black smudges and orange taints, Rose washes it lightly in the bowl, before leaving it in there, and swiping her hands on her clothing, drying them quickly. Glancing in the mirror, her eyes shine with acceptance, Rose grabs her brush, combing through the tendrils, cascading down to her shoulders, humming a sweet tune through her lips, enchanting the wildlife bringing a soft sense of sereneness throughout the air. Flat and soft against her head, her hair still laid damp, hugging her face shape, but it was enough to make Rose feel content again.

Shaking her head loosely, Rose strips herself of her damp clothing, throwing them across the room, joining the pile of slightly wet duvet coverings, skipping over to her large wardrobe, and grabbing a white pair of shorts and a loose lavender shirt. Adorning them, before walking over to her door, and stepping out of the room.

Cold chills the base of her feet, causing Rose to jump lightly, startled at the temperature change, stepping backwards, Rose turns into her room to grab some socks, only to be swept from her feet, into the arms of a soldier, squealing, Roses arms fling themselves around her capturers neck, burying her face into his warmth. Light chuckling rumbles from his chest, Rose shakes her head lightly, glancing up to see the face of her love, glowing back down at her, pecking the side of his cheek softly, she leans her back into his warmth, jostling lightly when he starts to carry her back into the living room.

"Nick's already left darlin', said we need ta talk properly, insteada screamin' at each other" Gatsby speaks softly, placing Rose down gently on the comfortable sofa, and sitting down smoothly beside her. Nodding reluctantly, her head bowing down slightly, fiddling nervously with her fingers, Gatsby places his hands over hers, soothing her greatly. Pulling her legs up onto the sofa, she tucks them underneath her, Rose pulls herself closer to him.

Sparkling sun, beams brightly into the living room, making the lovers glow profoundly, a sharp line of rainbow reflection striking across their figures. Gatsby's glum white waist coat, resting on the arm of the couch, draping over it gently. His right leg pulled up onto the sofa, his foot resting under his left leg, left dangling of the side. Rose sits legs tucking under her thighs, her back hunching over lightly, leaning forward completely taken with the man in front of her. Gatsby's sparkling eyes never left Rose, they thrive on her appearance, live for the sight of her smile, the love swells, twirling and dancing in his irises, his matching hers.

Leaning forward gently, Rose captures her lips with his, her hand trailing up, cupping his jaw, her thumb gently caressing where her fingers lay. Pushing slightly against him, he leans backwards, his hands gripping her waist gently, pulling her on his lap sweetly. Pulling away for breath, Gatsby smiles, Roses lips twitch in delight, a broad pearly smile stretching across her face. Soft whispers flutter from their lips, conversing with the same breath of air, eyes falling and rising from each other's lips and eyes, completely captivated with the loving, endearing words of intimacy blooming through their minds, spilling from their mouths.

Rose leans back softly, balancing on her calves and feet, watching half of Gatsby's body turn slowly around, his head falling backward, his eyes seeping to the corner of his eyes, searching for the right pocket. Reaching into his waist coat pocket, pulling out a smooth velvet box, he thumbs the box, sighing as if caught in an old memory, before glancing up at Rose who held a nervous look on her face.