𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 chapter nineteen; No Broken Hearts " I think we're all in control of who we let break our hearts. "
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THE WEATHER WAS perfect. It felt wrong being so dreary when the world was quite the opposite, but Salem couldn't help herself.
She was made of melancholia at the moment, enjoying the space she occupied on a stone bench but nothing beyond it. Roman had done her hair that morning, which was perhaps why the half-bun was so lumpy, but it showed off the jewelry decorating her ears so she was content. And, then again, she hadn't had the motivation to redo it.
The girl had avoided everything. She wanted to stop running, to face her tragedies head on, but it was so hard when one felt like a billion little broken pieces. So she'd slept, woke up late, threw on clothes that were lying around. Roman offered a bit of comfort, but ultimately Salem self-isolated in a lonely courtyard after avoiding every single one of her classes.
Salem noticed James before he focused on her— clearly, his intentions had been to find her but as he walked towards the courtyard she occupied he greeted students happily— grinning and laughing. Though, when he saw the redhead, his demeanor calmed, and his stride solidified— straight for her with no stops.
He was beautiful. Salem had surrendered to that truth long ago, but occasionally she'd be reminded. By the curl that hung lively on his forehead, and the tie that was never quite tight, his pressed white shirt tightening when he moved the right way— and how his eyes softened as he took the seat beside her.
"My heart's been broken before, y'know," James said, looking at the girl whose eyes continued to trace the architecture of the castle. "I don't intend to go through that again."
"So don't."
She was so cold. Though, for some reason, this didn't freeze James over— it warmed him.
Things had changed, surely, but not this. Not her. And it gave him some sort of hope.
"Thanks for the advice," James joked dryly, brushing a hand through his hair quickly, "I don't want to not. . . love somebody again, y'know? I just . . . refuse to have another broken heart."
"You can't exactly control that," Salem noted, her lips tugging upwards with unknown emotion.
"Well, I think you can," James said surely, and for the first time, Salem looked to him.
He looked so determined. Furrowed brows and hopeful eyes, his bottom lip momentarily tucked into his teeth. James was on a mission, and Salem felt as though she was at the center of it.
"I think we're all in control of who we let break our hearts," James continued, "And I won't let you break mine."
Hope drizzled out of Salem like the pitiful end to a roaring rainstorm. She had to have known it was coming; no shock he'd turn around once realizing she was the girl, but it still hurt.
