The Blue Danube [OLD]

- 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶 𝔬𝔫𝔢. ﾐ

╲⠀╲⠀╲ ╲

⠀⠀╲⠀╲⠀☆⠀ ╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀☆⠀╲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ★

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀★

april 1859

"Doo doo doo... I'm just swingin' round town.." John hummed to himself nervously, hands shoved in pockets to hide his fidgeting as he entered the manor through the back entrance. It was the day when the four boys had gone to the pub and hung out, and John was about to go and inform Cynthia that his friends had arrived so she wouldn't be startled by them or anything. He was absolutely terrified of confronting her after their last interaction, but he knew it had to be done; he had to try and patch things up with her as best as he could. They were about to get married - he had to do his best to have them on good terms when it happens, for them to be at least friends during this time. He didn't want to fight with Cynthia. He loved her; he truly did. Just not in that way anymore. A certain someone came and changed it all. She still loved him the way they used to love each other... John couldn't bring himself to anymore. It was over. But - despite all of this, at least he was marrying a friend, and not someone who he didn't like. That's what mattered to him. Cynthia and Paul.

"Uhm, Cyn? It's me." He had finally made his way upstairs and knocked on one of the guest bedrooms where Cynthia was staying, far away from John's room. His heartbeat raced fast and he tried to control his breathing, anxiety taking its hold again as it attempted to get John out of that situation. There was silence for a bit, John's foot tapping nervously against the thick carpeted floor, painted white wooden door staying firmly closed for several minutes, no sound coming from anywhere in the house except from John. He was, in fact, about to give up, turning to trudge away back downstairs, until there was footsteps and the door creaked open.

There Cyn stood, in a silk white dress and a blanket draped around her, looking tired and despondent, hair knotty but tied up in a loose bun. Her eyes were dull and showed no spark of interest when she spotted John there, instead just stepping aside to let him in, shutting the door gently after him.

"Cyn.." John slowly sat down on the bed, hands fiddling with a loose piece of fluff over and over again. He needed to break it to her. Tell her how he truly was feeling.

"Yes, John. You're here to try and patch things up again, aren't you?" Her voice was quiet and emotionless, sitting in the velvet seat across from the bed, clutching the blanket closer to herself, eyes on the floor.

"Yeah.. look. I know whatever I say won't help anything. There's no going back to what we were anymore." John felt his throat close up, tears threatening to surface, but he kept it away.

"I know. I want to know, though.." The girl trailed off.

"Yeah?" He glanced up to lock eyes with her for the first time since he stepped into the room.