Bane Of Time (Completed)

Curse breaker

   I promised William yesterday that I would teach him how to bake, and here we are in the castle's kitchen, trying to make the best cake ever. William was wearing an old apron just to keep his clothes 'clean', flour on his cheek and socks. Now that he's almost there, he moves about the kitchen with a faux-baker air, masking where he is unsure by calling me, his "assistant" to do something for him. He's adorable, but then I'm bias. He has the tabs wrapped right around his back and tied at the front where he could see the knot as he tied it. The vibrant hues are dusted with flour and smudged with cocoa, smeared with a little butter. It's a work of art on a work of art. His face is happy but serious, when it comes to getting his cake right it's no laughing matter.

   "You're going to taste one of the best cakes you'll ever eat in your entire life." He said, grinning at me while trying to wipe away some of the ingredients off his face, so I just threw a pinch of flour at him, which turned into a battle at the end. 

   "We should really clean this mess before the cake is ready and then we'll have to decorate it." I said, throwing a mop at him and filling a bucket with water, and getting a towel to clean the counters. 

   "I'm a prince I shouldn't working myself that much." We had finished cleaning the kitchen and ourselves, and the frosting was chilling in front of us and just waiting for the cake to finish its baking. 

   "You used to be one and besides stop being dramatic. And come help me figure out a design for the cake, and while you're at it take it out of the oven so it could cool down." 

   "Ouch!" Of course he had to burn himself, and I'll have to save the day again.

    "Leave the pan on the counter and put your hand under cool water, and wait for me to come back, don't do any funny business while I'm gone." I applied some aloe vera gel on his hand and bandaged it to keep it from getting infected or something; and while doing so I was very careful to not think about his breath near my face or the touch of his hands in mine. I could hear his breath quickening when I got closer, his chest rising up and down in a not so steady motion and his eyes I'm sure he's looking at me with his blue puppy eyes.

   He was so close that I simply raised my hand to touch his face, I traced his lip lightly with the tip of my finger. It pouts slightly, and I have such an urge to bite it, to kiss it, to wrap us up in a quilt and listen to our gentle breathing, watching the cotton ripple like skipping stones and sharing crooked smiles. His lip feels slightly chapped under my feather light touches but I simply cannot bring myself to give a damn. I gaze so intently at each divot of that lip, as if it could map out ancient seas and college plans and tell me everything I don't know. And I don't want to look up. Because if I look up, I may find myself at the mercy of questioning eyes, pleading, begging to know what I was doing, and I'm not at liberty to say because I simply do not know. "Do I love you?" I cannot form an answer with my lips because I am so focused on his.

   Then the memory passes, my eyes seeing once more, my ears hearing the here and now. I wish I had known just how painful my fixation on his lips would be, because loving the rest of him was torture, and sometimes I look back and wonder if I could have even stopped myself, warned myself away from such elegant heartbreak. Would I have even listened? I should have stayed away, just like my other ancestors, but no, I had to ruin myself.

   Or would the slight tickle of his breath expelling from that goddamn lip cause my words to stick to my throat, plastering themselves to my trachea and refusing to dispel into the palpable air. And the silence would have carried on forever and ever, until we dispersed into dust and scattered ourselves between remains of atoms of an age long gone - until a time I might hear his voice echo through the nothing. I'll never be able to be with him, not if he is in love with Elizabeth and stuck between these four walls.

   I compose myself and take a shaking breath, then take a step back, away from him and run for the exit. I can't do this, everything feels right and wrong at the same time; I'm so confused. I ran down the stairs hoping I won't fall down and hurt myself, or he'll catch up to me.

   "Ciara wait!" I heard his heavy footsteps from behind, he is getting closer, and I'm finally out the doors, here I'm sure I'll be away from him. "Listen to me!" He held my hand and turned me to face him. 

   I look surprise at our still touching hands and at him, he is finally out. "How is that possible?" I asked but he was as speechless as me. "Guess I'll be on my way back home, congratulations on your freedom." 

   "No, please are you coming back tomorrow?"

   "I don't know if I should even come back after today."

   "Please, at least for one last time." I nodded and left without another word.

   I lay down in bed thinking about my feelings toward William. When did I even develop these feelings toward him? Coming to him, to be healed by him, will break me. For to come to him is forbidden by the mind, yet to stay away is pain. So here I remain locked in love that brings sorrow, for my heart strayed where it should not and now my mind must pull it back to within the confines in which it is permitted to roam.