What Makes a Monster

♱Forty-Two♱

I stumble a bit, barely catching myself on the desk when he stands, clearing his throat as he does so. There's a sinking feeling of dread and worry that is only worsened when Soran grumbles, "You may return to your usual duties for today, Wallace."

"But the papers--"

"I'll deal with them." Soran gestures to the door. "Go."

"O-Of course...Your Grace."

I bow as swiftly as I can. Whatever dignity I can muster is festered in a single moment so I can make it out the door without further incident. But I barely make it down the hall before my knees almost give out. I press my weight to the wall then slide to the floor after a deep breath that buries itself into my stomach. There's a sinking feeling, like someone has gripped my gut and continuously pulls. It's not a pain but a discomfort that makes my shoulders roll and skin break out with goosebumps.

I can't believe that just happened. Holy shit. That...that was--

I ruffle my hair in frustration or maybe embarrassment, possibly even both? Either way, I want to scream and kick like a little kid but refrain from doing so. Others are staring at me oddly when they happen to pass by. I need to get up but my hands are shaking so I shake them more as if that'll help. It doesn't.

Stupid, stupid! How could I be so stupid?

I smack myself upside the head a few times.

What the hell was I thinking even mentioning Liam? And freaking tripping to basically fall into Soran's lap? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?! I need to dig a deep hole and throw myself into it. Even then I don't know if I can hide from this shame. Ugh!

After working up the nerve to stand, I brush myself off and attempt to compose myself. I doubt I succeed, especially with these all consuming thoughts. Even if logically this is a huge mess, there is no point denying my feelings for Soran. Honestly, I don't think there is any point denying Soran's feelings either. Whether they are on par with my own is beyond me, but interest is certainly there, otherwise none of this would have happened, right? There's no way we'd be as close as we are. The teasing, the apologies, the clothes, all the special treatment and the damn blushing and that--

I slam my head against one of the bed posts in the guest room I'm cleaning. Luckily the door is shut and no one else is around so no questions are asked as I continue to literally try and knock some sense into my knogan.

That what? That almost kiss? That definitely would have been a kiss if Soran were anyone else? That moment that can easily get me fired because what the hell was I thinking just standing there and letting it happen?! Let's take the part of him being an immortal vampire out of the equation, he's my boss, and a royal one at that. We wouldn't be of the same world even if he were human. I rely on him and the job he gives me for food and shelter, there's not exactly an even distribution of power here. The boundary between butler and employer isn't easily crossed! Although my dumb ass self found it pretty easy to trip into said employer's lap.

"What's wrong with you, Wallie?" I groan, falling onto the bed next and slamming my fists against it like a toddler. I don't even care that I just made the damn thing, I'll fix it in a moment! Right now, I'm having a crisis!

What should I do?

I roll onto my back to stare into the brown canopy of the bed. There's no answers stitched into the fabric, no magical fairy godmother pops up to tell me how to live my life. There's only my own thoughts, my own worries and concerns and fears and hopes all meshed together to form a blob that I haven't a clue what to do with.

Do I stay?

Does Soran even want me to stay?

He pushed me away...so these feelings are not ones he's willing to accept. I understand that, truly I do. I don't need to know the specifics of his past to guess that he has lost those he has loved, that he has learned to keep everything and everyone at a distance. That isn't fair, but is it fair for me to stay if I'm not wanted? If my being here will cause more harm to Soran than good, isn't it best that I'm the one that leaves?

I slide off the bed so I can mope on the floor. No matter what I think, no matter how many times I go over it in my head, the only option I can come up with is to leave. I hate it. It isn't fair. To either of us. I want to stay. I want Soran to like me back, to the point that he's as tormented as I am. How twisted is that?

I want to take a chance with Soran, if he'd let me, if he wanted it too. But I don't know if he has an answer. I don't know if he wants to give an answer, or if I'm even brave enough to ask.

So that night, when the house is asleep, when the moon is high and the sky a sea of stars, I retrieve that hidden bag beneath the bed.

The estate is silent. The howl of the wind holds a higher tune than my own steps. The single lantern I carry casts a warm orange glow that slowly moves through the mansion until I'm standing in the foyer. The doors appear twice as large as if they're taunting me.

What I plan to do, where I plan to go, if this is even a good idea, I haven't a clue. I don't have any answers. There's a constant what if, what if I stay and what if I go and what if Soran doesn't want me here and what if I tell him the truth? What will he say and what will we do? This confusion is eating me alive. And if I keep this up I'll continuously find reasons to stay.

That can't happen, or it shouldn't? I'm not entirely sure.

So I take a deep breath, clear my thoughts then click open the lock of the front door. When said doors open, I hesitate in the doorway, peering at the trail that leads into town. The one that originally led me here and is now going to send me away.

I grip the doorknob until my knuckles throb.

There's fear that I won't even make it to town, worry that I won't make it out of Vashna, but there's fear I won't live much longer should I stay here either. And then there's the fear of whether or not Soran cares, how I kind of hope he doesn't so it won't cause harm but then how stupid I'd feel if he didn't. It's a big mess, one that has me sighing heavily as I turn to take the final look back; a final look that has me freezing in place.

Atop the stairs, watching me with a pained expression that words could never dream to describe, is Soran.

Brows furrowed. Bottom lip clamped between his teeth. Arms crossed protectively. Shoulders caved in with clear shame and, dare I say it, disappointment. Soran doesn't look the least bit like the fearsome Archduke everyone thinks him to be; there's only a sad man atop the stairs, frowning in the cold moonlight.

There's shame and guilt, two emotions that Soran has no reason to show yet they're clear as day. Even more so when his gaze turns away, dark and trembling.

Please tell me he doesn't misunderstand. Please tell me he doesn't think I'm leaving due to disgust.

When he retreats without a word, panic sets in.

♱♱♱

Also, don't hate on Wallie. He'd get shit regardless of what he chooses to do unless they got together so, just, don't hate on him. Please try to see it from his perspective. Extra update this week, no worries, I'll have another update tomorrow ;) *sips tea* Hmm, this isn't going so well, is it? What do you think of how Wallie is feeling; his concern towards Soran's long life and the troubles he has faced, not wishing to be added to that list? Do you think Soran is misunderstanding? Will Wallie still leave?