Static

4. Rain

It was a rainy day when Franziska decided to finally hit her well-earned rest for today... or tonight. Carrying her suitcase filled to the brim with her court essentials, her weary feet led her to the door and twisted the knob, the action causing the hinges to creak.

She knew there was no one home. It was always silent to her ears. The winds were whispering into the vast, inhabited hallway and ceilings of her family manor— whatever indescribable substance it was made up of simply weighed her close to home.

She flicked the light switch on, lighting up the once-dark corridor, revealing the glossy staircase and the pristine, yet inanimate furniture that made up the living room.

Outside, the rain started to pound the concrete with heavy droplets. Storms clapped against the clouds, and she flinched slightly. The fear quickly dissipated as it was presented in a blink. She shrugged the feeling and headed upstairs.

---

A sigh escaped her lips once she changed to her sleeping garments, settling down on the sea of pillows. Sleep was coming up, but she refused for some reason. Reasons unwillingly formed within her mind.

It started to plague her, eviserating the walls that she built in vain. Having a fever was such a ruckus. It reminded her that, within the next notion of someone popping the horrible news to her father, she would surely get a taste of his wooden cane again. The memory was so severe that even by closing her eyes made it impossible to waver. She tried to embrace her drowsiness, tucking her blanket halfway into her face. It took some time, but then again, Franziska couldn't care less. She just needed to rest.

Before she knew it, she fell asleep. Her senses dull and passive.

... until she felt movement below her. She frowned as she slowly pried her eyes open.

On the base of her foot, she saw a familiar figure, shrouded in the room's shadows. Still on his usual wine-colored uniform, but he was facing the floor. He decided to take his well-deserved sleep as well, she guessed. Suddenly, she felt like there was a long, uncomfortable silence filling the room. She swore it was so unbearable that anyone can cut through it with a knife.

She wanted to get him out of the room already, but she isn't like that. After all, Franziska took his company for granted when they were younger. To do so would mean betraying that cherished memory.

She was sure he was here to talk, like the times that they used to do when they felt like the darkness was going to crush their throats from swallowing their sandpaper-like sadness; what she isn't sure about is what it is in store for her, and where it would take them both.

Franziska usually was the one who lashes out the most, not the other way around. She is afraid that she wouldn't get the picture due to her burning head. She closed her eyes and snuggled up inside the blanket.

But that was a mistake; it only confirmed her awareness.

Whilst still thinking, she was unable to notice that he moved closer to her. His face unreadable, despite being illuminated by her faint lamp. At least she knew that his eyes were focused at her, this time.

When she felt him tug the blanket away from her face, the first thing she felt was his warm breath, causing her to shiver slightly. His eyes felt like it was maiming hers, albeit still lidded, as she tried to avoid his gaze through dimmed vision. One of his hands made its way towards her cheek. She switched her head to one side to let him know that she was fine, breaking her little pretend.

"You're sick." He spoke softly. This was in correlation with the weather yes, but she didn't want to show weakness.

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