confined space » hollowheart

» day three: part 2 «

After dinner, after getting pelted by accusing glances as well as a few knowing ones, Enoch led Jacob, without Emma realizing to the living room. It was as Jake remembered it the first time Horace's dream was on display. Including the projector, which said male stepped up to. His fingers trailed over the machine, setting it up.

Jake was forced to sit on the couch next to Emma, but was relieved when Enoch crossed his legs and sat in front of the couch, practically a barrier between Emma and Jake.

The relaxation of Emma not constantly invading his personal space was very much welcome.

He'd have to thank Enoch later.

Emma was disappointed, but was afraid of angering Enoch, so she said nothing.

When everyone was settled in, Horace placed a small cylindrical device up to his eye, and fixed in in place with a wire. Then he turned the projector's lever, which forced out a light that shone on the screen.

The image stopped on a dream of clothing, which was normal for Horace. However, a few things were different. One, there was way too much detail for a dream, even one of Horace's. Secondly, every action he made looked too forced and deliberate.

As though he's hiding his actual dream.

It confused Jacob, but he made no noise against it. Apparently, Enoch had also noticed this, since he shifted, pressing an arm against Jacob's leg, grabbing his attention. Looking down, Enoch mouthed silent words, 'what's wrong with him?'; Jake could only shrug in response.

As the dream continued, it was even more evident the events were fake. Dream Horace left his closest and entered the gardens and explored the herbs and vegetables; uninteresting, unlike his actual dreams.

Eventually Horace turned the projector off, before insisting that everyone get some much needed rest. The younger children groaned, before complying. Jake stood, ready to leave the room himself, when a small tug at his leg stopped him. Enoch pulled back his hand before anyone noticed, and gestured at Horace, before standing himself.

The two stalked up to Horace, trapping him in a corner unintentionally. Neither said a word until everyone had left the room. To which Enoch spoke first.

"You're hiding something." Horace turned, brows furrowed.

"Speak for yourself, considering whom you actually are, Enoch." Said male hitched his breath, cheeks flushing; an odd contrast to his porcelain features.

"Well, whatever the reason, there is one. All we want to know, is what it is." Jake spoke up, returning the conversation back to Horace.

"As much as your concern is appreciated, Mr. Portman," ouch " it's neither of your business." And he moved to leave, pushing past them both, but stopped at the door's frame "Although, perhaps you have a right to know." Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a leather bound book. "Here. The latest entry." Then, after handing it to Jake, he left.

They both inspected the journal, the binding was black, and a silver clasp held it shut. Pages were sticking out the top, and it was clearly overfilled.

He was hesitant to open this, it wasn't his. It's everything Horace has ever seen in his prophetic dreams. This is an invasion of privacy, he couldn't open this.

And he didn't have to.

Enoch, becoming impatient, snatched the book from Jacob's hands, before unlatching it.

A few pages fell to the floor, as Enoch opened to the last date. Skimming over the words, he's silent. After a few moments he handed Jake the journal.

"It's about us."

"'As they grew closer, so did their physical relationship. Eventually it formed into something resembling a mutual partnership,'" Jake read, ignoring the flustered Enoch, who had fallen to the floor, covering his face. "Why does he have to make it so formal?" Enoch made a small noise in response.

Cute.

"'Not long, it was difficult to find one without the other. When Jacob would leave, Enoch would become a reclusive, hiding away from everyone; locked down in his basement. And if Jake was left without Enoch, he'd become more introverted, he wouldn't speak often during group conversations, and could easily be found within a book.'"

We' re already like that.

It was a truth that Jake couldn't ignore. Enoch was more involved when Jacob was around, and around Enoch he felt at peace with himself.

"Enoch?"

"Cad?" Irish. His voice was soft, the accent only just hearable.

"We're going to miss the reset." Jake responded just as softly, attempting to change the conversation's topic.

"Tá sé breá, ní féidir liom aghaidh a thabhairt orthu anois ar aon nós."

"Translate Enoch, I don't speak Irish." His face slowly rose from its hiding space in his hands. It was slightly pale, but no longer blushing.

"It's fine."

Is it?

Maybe. Maybe it was completely fine to ignore the others. Them and their opinions.

"Okay, we'll just go straight to bed."

"Yeah."