Time Bombs

chapter five

The Attic
0138 Hours

FOUR EYES.

One pair blue as the sky, the other brown as the earth.

No one blinks.

Not when Augustus frantically attempts to silence Jacqueline with his quiet hushing; not when her chest heaves up and down, akin to a boiling tea kettle waiting to erupt under the immense pressure bouncing within its iron walls. It was his gaze that silenced her, and her gaze that compelled him to loosen his grip on her delicate visage. There had never been an instance where a whole forty seconds seemed like a complete eternity, prior to their fateful meeting.

"Who are you?" they both thought, yet no one dared to speak, utterly paralyzed by the other's presence.

Augustus takes a meager step backwards, but still remains close enough to keep one hand clasped around the cool door handle. Was it the humidity, or were his palms sweaty? She watches him, masquerading as a lioness watching a gazelle, though at that moment, Jacqueline had never felt more like the prey.

He clears his throat. "I'm not- I'm not going to hurt you. I promise I'll tell you everything, just please don't make another sound," he says in a voice nothing short of a whisper. It was strange to hear one's own voice after spending so long not hearing it. In fact, he had spoken more in the past twenty four hours than he had during his entire stay in the army. "Please," he says once more, unsure if his dark eyed usurper heard it, but he supposes that in the bigger perspective of the scenario, it was he who deserved to be called a usurper.

"Sebastian," Augustus begins. "The man who owns this house, brought me here." He then proceeds to gesture towards the floor and the room's surroundings. Could she even understand him? Why hadn't he considered that beforehand? She might run off screaming again. Still, he persists, although a tad apprehensively, crouching down a little lower so they could, quite literally, see eye to eye.

Jacqueline scowls. Maybe she didn't understand him after all.

"I'm- I'm American," he slowly continues, pointing to himself. "From the United States Arm-"

"Yeah, I figured," she interrupts. "Now would you quit talking to me like I'm four?"

Augustus blinks, completely astounded. "You speak- You speak our language?"

She scoffs. Of course she spoke English. The books she read were in English, the books she wrote were in English. Her mother spoke to her in English. And to lose her knowledge of it would mean losing one of the only two things her mother left her; the gift of writing, and a rusty old Rheinmetall typewriter. "Clearly," Jacqueline says. "Just because I'm not like you doesn't mean I can't speak English, and why do you call it your language? The English language belongs to anybody who wishes to make it theirs."

At this, he abruptly lets go of her and skittishly runs his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, you just speak it very well, and I've never met a native-"

"I speak it better than you, too. Have I stuttered in the entirety of our conversation? No. Have you? Perhaps on a little more than one occasion."

"So this is what Sebastian's been keeping himself busy with," thought Jacqueline. In the morning, he runs off to god knows where, and at night, he plays big brother to a wounded American soldier. When was the last time she fit into that schedule?

But perhaps she had come off as a little too hard on him, so she says, "L-"

"I'm sorry," he cuts her off. Twice, because he tried to apologize right after. One apology for the way he acted, and another for cutting her off.