𝑰𝑵𝑲 • 𝑻𝒆𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 / 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆

Foot In Mouth

—————

A myriad of fantasies run across the sky

Each one a future not meant for you and I

For you and I are not something that could ever be

And everyday I'm taunted by impossibility

—————

Tewkesbury's POV

God has his favourites, there's no questioning that. There's obviously something I've done to anger him, I'm just too daft to figure out exactly what it is. Maybe that's what's angering him; My capacity to be so incredibly oblivious that it consequently brings others pain. I don't know.

The sun hasn't come up yet but I can tell by the way the sky is getting brighter that it will soon enough. There's no point in me going to sleep at a reasonable time. No point in me sticking to a strict and suitable schedule. I mean, why should I?

She left a while ago. Florence, that is. I understand why, she's got to be up in a few hours anyways. And I don't mind the quiet. It's quite nice. The field, the sheep, the fire. I'm warm enough to remain in good health and my mind is far too occupied to focus on whatever chill may or may not come over me.

"He knows. He deserved to know."

Jonathan knows and seemingly doesn't care. Great. As cynical as this may sound, I kind of wish he didn't know. That I could tell him and he would call off the engagement. That Florence and I could go back to how things were, and lift off from right where we left things.

But it's foolish of me to think that way. Because I'm not that guy, and I wouldn't go behind her back and talk to Jonathan. And it's ignorant of me to expect her to wait for me to return. To have out her entire life on hold just for me, especially after what happened.

And fuck. Her mum doesn't know either. She really didn't tell anyone. I was off on some soul searching adventure with another girl while she picked up the pieces that I had left cracked and scattered all across the floor. No one to talk to, no one who could understand.

That was supposed to be me. As her best friend, I was supposed to be the one she could tell about these things. But I'm the one who put her in this position and- and I just left her there.

I need to take a walk. It's going to take a while to process what I've just been told so I'm going need a very long and peaceful moment to just... contemplate. Pushing myself off the ground and reaching out to pick up the surprisingly still lit lantern, I head back to the manor.

I've never noticed how terrifying it looked, which isn't surprising seeing as I never paid it much attention at all. It's just my home, I know it well enough on the inside, but seeing it from the outside is a completely different thing. Makes me feel small, puny in comparison, and it looks incredibly cold.

I've only ever seen the grounds this empty once before and no matter how hard I try not to think about that day, it always takes center stage in all my dreams. I torture myself each night when my eyes shut and I drift off. She's ruined my life, but it's not her fault at all, it's mine for letting her.

And as I walk past her little home on my way back, I set myself up once again to be hurt. She's got the flowers I gave her in a vase, sat proudly atop her window sill. I can Imagine her placing each one carefully into the ceramic pot after filling it halfway with water. It's small things like this that send me over the edge into a world of hope that inevitably turns into a world of hurt.

Maybe the flowers meant a lot to her.

They probably remind her of me.

Does she want to be reminded of me?