a proposal, of sorts. ✔️

twelve

Trystan seems to believe me too fragile to be left alone and I believe his dramatics a useful distraction, so we end up spending the majority of our time together. The opposite ends of the sofa become our homes: right, his and left, mine. Even as we talk or read, there seems to be a barrier struck in the middle of us two, one I felt responsible for fashioning. And I still wasn't  convinced I wanted to demolish my safety.

"That's cheating!" he declares. We began playing games to pass the time a few days in.

Laughing, I shake my head. "No it's not! Read the rule book!"

"You made the game up! There's no rule book!" he argues, throwing his cards down against the table. One falls against his glass of plum liquor, half-drunk. I snatch a quick look at what he has: two aces and one three.

Digging into my pocket, I slam a wrinkled sheet of paper against the table between us. "Hah! There!"

He rolls his eyes. "Of course you have a rule sheet for a made up game."

"I'm nothing if not thorough," I grin. I take a swig of my ale. "Also, all games are technically made up."

He offers me a lopsided smile in response. "Seeing as you've seen all my cards, what do you say we retire for the night?"

"Sounds good to me. You were going to lose anyways," I chuckle as I reach for the cards splashed across the room.

"Whatever you and your list of rules say," he teases, taking the sheet I had given him and folding it into a tiny square. "I'll keep this for next time."

"Study. You'll need every advantage you can get."

We return to our rooms, and as I settle into my bed to brace myself for Rylan's haunting, I hear the rattling of Trystan's door opening and closing. And then I hear the front door do the same.

He must be escaping to his newest mistress. And for some reason, this time the knowledge of his departure hurts.