𝑰𝑵𝑲 • 𝑻𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 / 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆

Catalyst

I want you there when I say the words

I want you to say them too,

Because I know I'll never be able to say them

To anybody but you

—————

Peace had always unnerved me. From what I'd read in the novels T provided me with, the only purpose of the calm is to precede the catastrophe. Prolonged quiet made me feel ill, uneasy; because it never lasted, and I knew that. But then again, perhaps I was just being cynical.

I knew I would regret it afterwards, I usually did. Not making the most of the better moments, wasting them by worrying about what was to come. And things were no different with T, because everything was incredible, and I couldn't help but hate that.

I could see him waiting for me as I approached. Sitting at the end of the rickety old dock that jutted out of the lakeside and stretched across its surface. I refrained from calling out to him, reluctant to disturb the tranquility of the scene before me. I wanted it to last for as long as it could.

His back was to me as he looked down at the water below, dark and secretive, revealing nothing but his own reflection. I noticed his finger tapping away at the wooden floor beside him, a nervous impulse. Maybe he wasn't as relaxed has he initially appeared to be.

My footsteps hung in the air, traveling through the deck as I approached, my heavy boots responsible for the substantial amount of noise I was unintentionally creating. He withdrew his hand upon hearing me, placing it in front of him where I couldn't see. I didn't think much of it then, but now I wish I had. Maybe then I would have been more prepared.

He wished his head around to look at me, acknowledging that I was there and that he was happy to see me through a small smile. It felt childlike and cheeky, and I returned the gesture. It was a wordless greeting, but words really weren't necessary. We both knew that.

I broke into a little run for the final stretch, eager to sit beside him, be close to him. And once I reached the end of the dock, did so slowly, careful not to fall in. It was an exceptionally hot day, and if I looked closely enough, I could notice the space just above the ground beginning to wobble, warped by the heat. But that didn't take away from the fact that I still didn't know how to swim.

It wasn't as if he had gone anywhere recently. He'd been spending most of his time at the manor, where I was, so I didn't really have any reason to miss him. But it had been difficult to find time for each other, for us. Renovations on the estate had begun a few weeks prior, and apparently, his approval was required at every turn.

I myself hadn't had much opportunity to check on how they were going as the construction wasn't really on my usual route, but the hammering could be heard by everyone, everywhere. Not to mention the plethora of young construction workers on the grounds. I could barely hear myself think most mornings with all the chatter among the other girls.

Sometimes I tried to participate in the conversations, but could never figure out what to say, so instead just found myself just listening. If you don't contribute, is it considered eavesdropping? They kept mentioning them by name, and I neither knew nor recognized any, and so found myself nodding along until I'd finished breakfast.

Mum had tried to get me to speak to a few of the men, but I never got beyond a simple introduction. I'd say hello and so would they, sometimes we'd trade names, and then I'd excuse myself; because what else was there to say? I could never remember their names anyway.

I wasn't looking to expand my circle. I just didn't have the time to maintain friendships. I had mum, and T, and Mr Warren was rather friendly sometimes. Things were fine as they were. Good even.