All Your Little Quirks • h.ravenclaw ✓

⚪eight

The sun remains hanging in the sky rather tauntingly, spreading its warm glow to the world below it. Arven fiddles with the papers in his hands, moving them over, flipping them, changing their order. He knows he doesn't have to do it. Helena won't see them without asking him, and he knows for certain that he won't show half of them to her. But he keeps them with him nonetheless, with the fervent hope that maybe someday he would be courageous enough to let her know everything that runs through his mind every passing moment.

The small voice inside him reminds him that Helena would be leaving Albania soon, and that day will never come. But he is quick to shut the voice down, just like he shuts out everything else.

When the sun is about to be claimed by the forest, he rises to his feet and sneaks into the kitchen, where, right over the stove is a pot of the byrek his mother has made today. He scoops a slice into a bowl and leaves the house.

He doesn't find Helena when he reaches their dome, and he sits down on the log, waiting for her to come out of the tent. A long time passes, and he begins to realise that she isn't inside there. Shouldn't there have been a sound at least once?

Maybe she's in the town, buying something, he thinks. Yet, a fear begins to creep up his heart and he stands up and begins to pace the ground. It isn't safe for women to be out after dark, and even though Helena is a different kind of woman, born and bred in a different environment, she is still in Albania, bound by the rules of the town. Or does she think that living in a forest frees her of all rules since there is no one to regulate it?

His pacing becomes more rapid as the fear amplifies. She shouldn't be taking this long. If she needed to buy anything, she would've bought before sunset. Could something have gone wrong?

It's only when Arven stops pacing and decides to go to the town to find her that he hears the sound of leaves being crunched under heavy footsteps. He freezes momentarily and whips around to follow the sound, and out of the darkness surrounding the dome, he sees a tall figure stomping its way toward him. A moment later, the figure becomes clear, and he sees the blue dress and the voluminous black hair, and he sighs in relief.

When she nears him however, he sees the maddened expression in her face and the angry tears that flow down her cheeks. She freezes on her spot upon seeing him, and seems to take some time to register his presence. But when she does, a smile breaks into her features and simultaneously, they both begin to walk toward each other.

Helena pulls him into an embrace as soon as he is near enough. Her chin digs into the side of his neck and her hair tickles his face, but her hold is gentle, warm, enveloping him in a loving cocoon that he doesn't want to get out of. Rather awkwardly, he shuffles his foot on the ground as his hands hang limply by his side, unable to figure out what to do with them.

"I'm so happy you came," she says once she has pulled away, though her hands remain on his shoulders. Her voice, surprisingly, is quite steady, not betraying any of the emotions streaming down her cheeks with the tears. "I need company right now."

Arven sees a quill lying on the ground and sits down by it, dipping it in ink. Pulling out a blank piece of paper from his pocket, he writes down, You had company now, I believe.

Her face stiffens when she reads it. But when she speaks, it is as calming as the ocean early in the morning. "Yes. It was the man I told you about. He wants to take me to Scotland with him."

He knew that he would get this answer, but somehow hearing it from her makes it sound ten times as horrendous. Someone like her isn't meant to be locked up inside a house. She is supposed to be free, as free as the ocean, free to go wherever she wants. That man cannot lock her up. And Arven cannot make her stay in Albania with him, no matter how much he wants to.

This is one of the reasons he still hasn't shown her what's written on the papers that he keeps safely inside his pocket.

He looks around and finds the bowl he has brought, lying on the ground. He hasn't realised he has dropped it, and he picks it up before giving it to Helena, who accepts it with a surprised look. He gives her another paper.

This is byrek, a pie – traditional Albanian food. I wanted to bring more, but couldn't do so without my mother noticing that it's missing.

"You stole from your mother," she says, not as a statement, neither as a question. An odd tone lingers in her voice that he can't quite make out. She smiles strangely and sits down, taking a bite from the pie.

"It's good," she smiles gratefully. "Thank you."

Once she has finished eating, she rubs her oily fingers on her dress and looks at him. Arven blinks a few times, drifting his eyes in other directions to avoid looking into her eyes. She notices his actions and laughs softly, before placing her hands on his, linking their fingers together.

"Do you think I am a good person?" she asks quietly, the smile disappearing from her face, giving way to a sad look. He wants to nod, but then decides not to. Wrenching his hands away from her, he takes a paper and writes out his response.

Of course you are.

She stares at the words for a long time. He feels that she is trying to convince herself that it is true. Then without a word, she gets up and enters her tent. When she returns, she has something in her hands, deep blue in colour, sparkling magnificently as it catches the firelight.

"What would you say if I told you I stole this? From my mother?"

Arven is stunned. Taking a closer look, he realises that it is a crown, silver in colour, with a large blue stone engraved on the front. It's quite obvious that it has a high cash value.

"I come from a wealthy family," she explains. "The Ravenclaws are a family of nobility, wealth and greed. My mother strayed from the path and pursued wisdom instead of money. This diadem belongs to her, and it is a rich source of wisdom. Something I seek more than anything else."

If Helena thought the news would make him hate her, she was wrong. Arven cannot bring himself to hate her. She isn't after money, as she has said. She is after wisdom. Is that a bad thing? Arven doesn't think so.

"So what do you think of me now?" she urges, looking almost like she wants him to hate her.

He doesn't respond though. Instead, he reaches a hand out to move the diadem aside, and scoots closer to her. Her eyes widen for a moment, but then they lean toward each other simultaneously, and their lips touch. Her hands move to grip the sides of his face, and he realises that this isn't the first time she is kissing someone. Her hands and lips are experienced, and he almost feels foolish as he keeps his hands awkwardly by his side.

Reality suddenly strikes him, and strikes him hard. What is he doing? Helena doesn't want to be tied down by bonds. She wants to travel the world. She wants to earn wisdom and knowledge. He, on the other hand, is destined to work in his father's farm for the rest of his life. He cannot hold her back. He has no right.

He pulls back abruptly, and both pant heavily as they look at each other. A look of hurt flashes across her face, but he ignores it as he stands up. Not paying any heed to her call, he turns on his heels and stomps away, leaving the bowl, and a part of his heart behind.