An Intangible Pattern - Fate Bound.

Honest

As the evening drew in the crowd began to thin out; those with small children left to prepare for their own celebrations and the remaining adults could drop the pretense of being grown ups. 

“Come on Noah! Have a little more wine!” 

“Ah thanks but no, Cat. I still have half a glass.” 

Actually, Noah's glass contained grape juice. He had resolved not to drink for two reasons: one, Ben could not drink and Noah wanted to stay sober in solidarity with him; two, he wanted his wits about him around Alex. He could not afford to lose his inhibitions, especially if there was the slightest indication he may go into rut; though it seemed he needn't worry on her account, she had done her best to avoid him again. He couldn't help but feel a little hurt about it, even if he wasn't surprised. 

“One word.. two syllables.” Called a few voices in the party. It was Ben’s turn to play charades.

“Book?”

Ben paused and scratched his head, apparently confused as to how to continue.

He curved his fingers together to form an M shape. 

“Cheat! You can't spell it out!” slurred Marianna excitedly, waving an accusatory arm and spilling Noah's drink on his shirt.

“Oh no! I'm so sorry!” 

Noah gave a wry laugh and said. “Its my fault for not bringing a spare. Someone up there seems to hate my shirts.”

“Oh dear, you should wash it quick, red wine is a devil to get out,” fussed Marianna, attempting to dab his shirt with a napkin. 

“It's quite alright, please excuse me for a moment.”

Arthur stood up, removed his sweater and held it out to him.“Here, you can wear this.”

Noah thanked him gratefully and went upstairs to the bathroom to wash the purple stain out. As he reached the landing he heard Gillian call out,”Emma? Is it Emma?”.

From the bathroom, he heard cheers and claps as he stripped off and scrubbed his shirt with soap and hung it over the towel rail. He pulled on Arthur's Christmas sweater and frowned at the mirror, noticing only then that the snowmen in the repeating motif were making obscene gestures. 

Of course… he thought and sighed in resignation, returning downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs he caught sight of Alex, alone in the kitchen washing the dishes. 

I should just leave her alone - he thought, but something stopped him. Something about her blank expression and the way she distanced herself from the festivities made him want to draw her out. He entered the kitchen, stood next to her at the sink and wordlessly began to dry the dishes.

“Try not to be too obvious,“ she said quietly and with apparent calmness, though he could hear her heart begin to race. 

“Am I being obvious?” He answered mildly. “I thought I was being helpful.”

“You know what I mean.” She flushed, her eyes fixed on the soapy water.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“I'm fine,” she set the glass she had just washed down on the draining board. He reached out to pick it up and brushed the back of her hand. She snatched it back and glanced up at him with a frightened look. 

“Are you?” He asked, fixing her with an intent stare. She averted her gaze.

“...Is it me? Am I the reason you are hiding out here?”

“I'm not hiding, I'm just doing the dishes.” She mumbled irritably.

“Alex, I don't want to be the reason you shut yourself off. If you want me to leave, I'll leave.” he said softly.

She sighed, “No, I don't want that.”

“Then what’s on your mind?”

“Who says there's something on my mind?” She halted and glared up at him, he held her gaze.

“It’s obvious.”

She sighed and resumed washing the dishes. Sensing he wasn't going to give up she said, “I'm just tired. I just need a break from it.”

“From what?”

“Pretending everything is ok.”

He studied her for a moment, she looked exhausted. Another roar of laughter erupted from the lounge and he understood her.

 It has to be exhausting, playing happy families when she's carrying around everything that has happened to her... What I did to her. 

He knew he shouldn't, he knew he was the wrong person, but he couldn't leave her to struggle alone.

“For what it's worth, you don't have to pretend in front of me.”

She snorted derisively, “I think you're the last person I want to be honest with.”

He picked up the plate she had just finished washing and began to dry it,“Well, until you find someone else to be honest with, you can say what you want in front of me.” 

She was silent for a moment then in a small voice she said, “Listen, about my behavior last night, I’m not proud of…it”

“I think I'm the last person who has any right to judge you.” He assured her, “ I understand, it was just the heat.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” She whispered, her face scarlet.

“Don't be, at any rate…” he hesitated, feeling his own face grow hot. “...was it really so awful?”

She didn't answer. 

He sighed and thought - That's how it is then.

“Look, until we find a solution that works for you, I want you to know I won't say a word about anything that happens between us. I also won't take anything you do in heat as an indication of your character. If it helps, think of it as being high, we do things we normally wouldn't in that state, so I won't read into it.”

“It doesn't disgust you?”

He thought about how to answer. “You don't disgust me, there's nothing you could do to me I can't take... But obviously I'd rather be doing this with someone who wants it, instead of someone who can't say no. That's what sickens me.” He placed another glass in the cupboard and whispered haltingly. “To be honest, there was something cathartic about letting you take charge.” His ears burned at the sound of his own admission..

“I didn't realize you were a masochist.” she muttered awkwardly. His sharp hearing could pick up the rapid thump, thump of her heart.

“I don't think I am, I just felt like I was getting what I deserved. Well, not really, but it felt fair… Ugh you know what I mean.” He swept a loose strand of hair behind his ear, fixing his eyes on the towel in his hand.

She shook her head and sighed “You're a very strange person.”

He snorted and gave her a half smile.

“Well I did say you could be honest,” he muttered ironically, drying the last of the dishes and turning to lean against the countertop. 

In the sitting room Arthur was pointing frustratedly at his feet while the crowd were yelling “Shoes?” and “Walking?” 

Alex removed her gloves and leant against the countertop next to him watching the game in silence.

“How do you feel now? Do you want to join back in?” He asked. 

She nodded.

“Come on then, let's just try to forget and enjoy ourselves, just for one night.”