It's a fact that you can't help who you fall in love with. And for Rosaline Davenport and him, it definitely shouldn't have been each other.
Because, sometimes, love stories have blood on them.
[warning: this is the mother of all slow-burns]
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【 39.
Thirty-nine
Rashk 】
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[ Rashk • jealousy ]
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ZACHARY FINDS HIMSELF in a bar—an upscale one, given the sophisticated part of Chicago he’s in. After all, what other kind of neighbourhood will the reputable and well-known Davenports live in?
Both the floor and walls are a rich bronze colour, and the ceiling is adorned with small white bulbs encased behind gold-coloured shades, so that the light filtering through them spills around the entire space in a soft-orange glow. The bar stools at the counter are all a bronze that’s lighter than the floor, while the rest of the seating furniture in the lounge ranges from shades of brown—from cream and beige to cinnamon and walnut.
Zachary himself is nestled in the furthest corner of the bar, hidden within the darkness where the light can’t reach him so that if anyone is to look, they’ll only catch a glimpse of a man’s outline, his face obscured by the dim lighting and the dancing shadows.
Grabbing the half-empty bottle on his table, he pours what looks like liquid gold into the shot glass, watching the ice cubes rise along with the quantity of the tequila.
Rose’s face flashes in front of his eyes, that guarded expression on her face from earlier tonight—but also that tiny glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes that she couldn’t hide from him no matter what.
Zachary lifts the glass to his mouth and tosses the contents down his throat.
The burn of the drink has reduced to a dull scratch by now, considering the several shots he’s already consumed.
He can’t erase that goddamn look on her face, like she expected him to be better. Like she expected him to be there. Like he let her down by taking a step back and creating a much needed boundary.
First, he couldn’t be a best-friend worthy of loyalty. Then he couldn’t be a husband worthy of a faithful love. And then he couldn’t be a good enough son that didn’t push his parents away.
And now—now it turns out he can’t even be a good enough… whatever it is that he’s supposed to be for Rose.
He doesn’t know what his purpose is now—who he’s supposed to be and what he’s supposed to grab onto in order to find some stability.
Zachary feels useless.
At least, with Rose, he felt needed. Wanted. Like the space he takes up in this universe is actually of some use and benefit to someone.
