Muddy Waters / enoch o'connor {Slow Updates}

act one | part five

act one | part five - truce

Enoch had a full time career of being awful - I was beginning to learn. If I stepped in his way I did it intentionally. I chewed too loudly and breathed in his space, I moved his stuff - even if I didn't do anything to him, he said I was doing it to annoy him. Everything I did was an indirect attack on him. 

I was under constant attack from my guilt ridden thoughts, nightmares, and primarily, Enoch. Horace's dream had driven a wedge between us, keeping the two of us impossibly guarded from outside forces. It was a morbid atmosphere, the both of us denying our destinies in futile attempt to re-write what had already been written. 

Our interactions, when we weren't yelling at each other, were short and to the point. We passed each other in the hallways, avoiding eye contact. If we brushed past one another by accident, we said nothing. I'd felt his sweater clad arm against my bare skin more times in the last month than I cared too. 

We tried not to stand to close together, I made a pact to arrive at dinner early. He sat in the same seat, I tried to stay as close to Miss Peregrine as possible. 

Beyond our part in Horace's dream, my mind was running with an endless a ray of questions. It was Miss Avery's loop, which should be closed. How could we ever return? Why would I ever be there with Enoch? They were all questions I wanted to ask, but knew there were no answers to them. 

---

I was just beginning to get used to Enoch ignoring me when something extraordinary happened between us.  It happened in the evening just after the reset. I was lingering around the kitchen, stealing bits and left overs from dinner. Nothing interesting had happened - Emma had already gone to bed and Victor and Bronwyn were playing some game I didn't understand. 

Enoch was in the parlor, searching for one of his books. I stayed in the doorway, doing my best to ignore his presence but failing. 

Finally he let out a sigh and pulled his book from the shelf. He turned to me, eyes trained and taking confident steps. 

"Look," Enoch began, "if you think that just because Horace had a little dream that we might kiss each other, that it'll happen,  you're wrong. So don't expect it." 

I was fuming, standing there with my mouth open in shock. The nerve! Enoch, instead of accepting what happened and letting it go, was accusing me of expecting it. 

"You are so full of yourself," I spit, "you think that I want to kiss you? Or fall in love with you for that matter? I can't stand you. I despise you." 

It was everything I wanted to say and I was fuming. The table rattled as Enoch threw down the book, stomping over to me.

"You despise me?" he taunted, "I'm so hurt." 

"I'm not asking to be your friend or your girlfriend or whatever," I grit, "but I'm not going to be your enemy. I'm here to stay whether you like it or not and I suggest you get used to me being around-" 

A harsh bang against the window stopped in my words, pulling a grasp from my throat as I flinched. Enoch jumped, his back going to the wall. I'd just barely noticed his hand as it reached out for my wrist. I felt his fingertips against my palm. 

"What the hell," I breathed out softly, moving forward. 
"Don't go near it!" Enoch stressed, clearly exasperated. 

He hadn't let go of my hand yet, I'm not sure if he even knew he was holding it in the first place.