The Garden's End (MLM)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

                Robert was suffering from a migraine. Dawn peeked in through the curtained windows as the young lord attempted to keep himself awake with books, but exhaustion rung in every bone in his body. How he would've liked to put his head down on the library table before him and close his eyes.

However, that meant nightmares. Visions from his past, screams in the distance. It was easier to push such thoughts away when he was in a hurry, but in the dead of night when there was no one to rouse him from his hauntings, when particular young servants were not there to put his mind at ease, Robert silently endured. As best he could.

In terms of the previous night, it meant wandering the halls and distracting himself with their wide collection of stories. He'd wanted to read An Eternal Flame, but the book remained with Pip, and the thought brought such a warmth to Robert's cheeks, that Pip would hold on so tightly to something Robert had given him, that he did not have the will to ask for it back. Pip could keep it. Perhaps he could tell Robert what it was he'd read.

At the moment, however, as Robert stretched his arms over his head and slapped his cheeks to will the weariness away, he found the mere hum of the kitchens agitating, the chirp of the birds, the chill of the November air. Even the slightest creak of the wooden chair, in which he sat, against the floorboards was an irritant. It roared and echoed in Robert's ears and made him flinch.

He thought about conversing with Lord and Lady Hewitt today, attempting to speak to Oliver, sitting with Jane who had yet to look in his direction since their conversation in his chambers the previous day. And he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

He wished he could stay here in this library, away from everyone else.

"Can't we just stay here?"

Robert's hands fell into his lap, and he was left staring into the wall, remembering Pip's expression and voice back then. He had seemed so resigned, so afraid, it had ached Robert's heart. And yet, despite wanting to hide away, Pip had wanted Robert to hide with him. There had been no hesitation in his words, as though it were only natural that they stay together.

Robert did not wonder whether Pip had meant it that way. He simply wanted to believe it. He fell back in his seat with a sigh, tracing the cover of the book in front of him. It had been a short story about knights that Robert had read halfway and couldn't finish.

He would be allowed this much, wouldn't he? If Oliver was to have Pip so intimately, then Robert could surely be spared the simple pleasure of his fantasies.

A knock came at the door, and Robert sighed, rubbing his eyes. Even that sound reverberated in his head, and he was only about to snap at whoever had dared disrupt him in the early morning when he was already in a foul mood, when the door opened and Pip walked in.

Robert's words caught in his throat. Pip's hair was tousled, as though he'd been running an anxious hand through it. His cheeks were rosy and despite the early morning, his eyes were bright, the same spark of energy lighting him like an ever-burning flame.

Pip crossed the distance between them, pulled a familiar book out of his coat, and dropped it on the desk with a hard thump. He looked irritated. Robert could feel the exasperated complaint, I've been looking everywhere for you! on his tongue. Instead of saying it, however, Pip merely straightened his shoulders, sniffled once indignantly, and turned again to stand at the door, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

Robert raised a brow at the book. The rose had been moved to the next chapter. So Pip had read ahead. He smiled.

"I'm assuming you didn't like it?"