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*flirtatiously* bleeding out all by yourself, handsome?

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for a moment she almost lets him. charlie's hand wanders, spurred on by the soft moans that manage to escape within their kiss. beatrice would curse her sensibility come morning, especially when that please from him nearly crumbles her right then and there. but she stops him just shy of where he's needed, after he's realized she's not wearing anything beneath her dress. an exasperated exhale makes her laugh. "i'm sorry," she laughs into the side of his neck. "but i'm a giver, not a taker."

they both lay in the silence again, the sounds of their steadying breaths now louder than those crickets. it makes bea smile, and blush, trying her best to think of anything but charlie's hand that's now resting on her hip. or the fact that the reason they can't or won't be together is because come this time tomorrow, he'll be long gone. "i think sleep is what'll make us both feel the best," she suggests, turning herself just enough for her leg to wind up over his, for her to nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder like they were two pieces of a puzzle.

sleep settles into their bones after a few more brushes of fingers and kisses on cheeks; whispered wishes and dreams that cause a lump to form in bea's throat. then it pulls them under, neither stirring at all until the next morning. when beatrice's mother clears her throat. "i told ya she'd be out here with him," luci giggles. bea's eyes open slowly, confused by the sounds of voices until she recognizes who they belong to. she springs up, grateful that most of the blanket is still covering charlie. "she's fully clothed, so that's promising," her mother notes before taking a few steps back in order to head outside.

when beatrice and luci arrive behind her, bea is sure charlie will have woken up with the sound of the screen door closing. "nothin' happened." she's quick to say though her mother raises a hand. "you're a grown woman, honeysuckle. you ain't got t' explain a thing to me." immediately her shoulders sag, relieved to have not been in trouble despite the fact that she's no longer a child.

their mother's gaze raises behind bea, waving politely when charlie makes his way near. "i hope that lousy couch was sufficient. bea's always loved the thing, me not so much." she smiles at the man she doesn't know, sees every ounce of what her daughter must have seen. how handsome and tall, strong and kind. the latter within those pretty eyes of his. "would ya like some breakfast or will ya be on your way?" it wasn't a judgmental question, bea can tell. despite what her mother's gone through, she remains resilient; doesn't force her past onto those in the present. it's the hooting in the distance that made her ask. something bea didn't notice until her mother mentions it. "sounds like your group's got a lot goin' on down yonder."

"it's perfect." and charlie means it. after falling asleep in the dirt with only a bunched up coat as a makeshift pillow, this is a luxury. in another life, he had slept on a comfortable mattress underneath warm comforters and an array of pillows cushioning his head. if things had gone differently, what would life be like right now?definitely married, a father of maybe one or two kids who ran a factory. bea's touch pulls him away from his thoughts, right where he needs to be.

"are you pokin' fun?" a chortle falls from his lips, their eyes meet when her fingers slip through the buttons of his shirt. warmth spreads along his chest whilst tracing lines and circles along her back. when she mounts him, a hungry spark catches on his cerulean hues. fingers tangle in her dark tresses, pulling her closer and forgetting about any need of oxygen. his hips rock forward, begging for more friction. "bea." her whispers her name one, two, three times. before he remembers that they shouldn't cross that line, she moves off him and stops. chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily, staring up at the stars to gather himself.

he turns his head and eyes to her, turning to lay on his side facing her. "neither have i." charlie confesses quietly, "i'm always leavin' and never lookin' back." he reaches a hand to caress her face, "but i'll keep lookin' back. at you. at this night. the kindness and hospitality you showed us. how you punched the lights out of that guy at the bar. your singin' and the way ya' called me out in front of the crowd. we'll have more drinks together, if only in my mind." a watery smile parts his lips as he moves in closer to kiss her again, deeply and tenderly. enveloping her tightly between his arms, "let me make ya' feel good... please." he rasps into her mouth, running a hand up her thigh.

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at her son's request, there's an immediate sense for amara to reject the idea. she and silas still need space, they have to set up systems. she didn't want theo getting his hopes up. but even with those thoughts, her heart says the opposite. there would be plenty of time where they'd be separated. maybe having positive moments together when they came together organically would be a good thing. it would help build the healthy future amara and silas both want for their family.

amara brushes her fingers against a tiny ringlet of theo's dark hair, aching at what it reminds her of: her sweet baby, that head full of curls that came from silas; and then by association, silas' curly hair. a rare sight unless they were somewhere warm and humid, and his hair was long enough to draw them out. theo was a mini version of her but the similarities he shares with his father are all the reasons she loved him the most. like how they smile. it always starts slyly, like they both need to be coy about the fact that one's coming. rarely ever showing teeth like she or iliana do. "i think we could do that, if your dad's not too busy," she adds. just in case silas doesn't want to have dinner with his ex-wife.

not a tooth is revealed to his parents but the smile is big. bigger than amara has seen in months. it's the right choice to make, and no matter how heartbreaking it is to sit across from silas and not affectionately return that brush of his knee, amara's strong enough to stay the course. their children's happiness is worth fighting through every internal conflict she has till the end of time.

"and… can dad come back home with us and play mario kart?" amara tries to keep her breathing steady, taking a slow inhale that ends with a smile of her own. "yes," she starts. "but only if you don't complain when your sister asks to play." theo rolls his eyes but gives in to his mom's request by extending his pinky towards her. "i promise i won't complain at all. i'll be good." they shake on it before amara leans forward to kiss the side of her son's temple, looking between theo and silas as she notes a final stipulation, "and no rainbow road. if dad comes over, it's for fun."

there's nothing to do but brush that minor slip up aside and take a extra long chug from his coke. a hand swipes away at the corner of his lips, settling the bottle back on the table. a brow raises inquisitively in reaction to amara's coy grin. he looks her in the eye before rolling his as she muses about the illusion making him appear miniscule. "hmph, predictable." the blond mutters under his breath before popping another cheeto into his mouth. however, the expression on his face changes when her teasing turns into a reminiscing.

it tickled him then how her feet had dangled from the edge of the bed, demanding that she take her topic back after swiping it unashamedly the week before. then other times, further in their relationship when they first moved in together and couldn't keep their hands off each other. the lines that had formed between his brows smooth out as those memories cross his mind.

as he shifts in his seat, a leg accidentally brushes against hers and the contact sends a jolt of electricity throughout his body. bright hues find hers briefly before pulling back and turning to sit sideways. his torso turned awkward to face both theo and amara to avoid any accidents underneath the table that might send the wrong message. no, the message is right but it's humiliating to still want your ex-wife after divorcing. have some self-respect, for god's sake.

lips stretch into a soft, genuine smile. he missed this. spending time as a family. iliana is back at the school and probably seething with jealousy that her brother got to spend the day with their parents. "someday you'll be as tall as me, t and you'll be able to help your mother reach the counter." silas turns to his ex-wife and offers a cheeky smile. theo laughs then settles with a look of determination, "i got you, mom." he nods in solidarity. always team mom. while it should have bothered him, it doesn't. he loves that about their son and hopes that never changes. small hands fall on the table, folding as if to propose a business deal, "now that we're all here, can we go out tonight as a family?" they would have to go back to the school and it would be easy to just pick iliana up and go anywhere their hearts desired. just like old times.

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"what a silly question," she replies, unwilling to let him go now that he's asked. bea moves away and back closer to the screen door that lead into her home. "help me pick up that couch." they move into the room quietly, careful not to disturb bea's sister or mother. "it's a fold out," she notes, proud of the fact that they owned such a thing in these times. once the pair was back on the covered porch with everything settled, bea gestures for charlie to lay down first. she runs inside to grab a blanket that'll keep them covered. it was early summer and barely cool, but just in case a chill set over the land, she didn't want them spendin' the night shivering. waking up with a sickness would make charlie's travels miserable.

she kicks the small lever on the right side, its springs kicking to life as it expands. "fancy, innit?" but then she crawls on, careful to move with intent until she's nestled into charlie's side. "now you'll be able to hear the rooster crow," bea teases. her fingers slip within the buttons of the shirt he's wearing, a purposeful touch as she speaks softly, "but no one can hear us." she turns her head just enough to reach the under side of his jaw, wanting to press her lips to the skin there; using her free hand to push her up and over top of him. they kiss once again, languid and more passionate than their last. like melting gold the heat careens between them with force, especially in the knowing that their time together is short. but beatrice heard charlie's feelings, he said them gently, respectfully. it was between the lines. and so she heeds his preference and rolls herself off him, taking deep breaths in the silence of the dark.

"you'll be gone tomorrow," she whispers to no one. except herself, maybe. a reminder. stop while you're ahead, girl. he's trying to make this easier. "i haven't felt this disappointed in quite some time. i forgot what it's like to miss someone... and you haven't even left yet."

cerulean optics take in bea's reaction, part of her face eclipsed by the shadows. arms remain tight around her waist, keep them as a close as physically possible. a grin parts charlie's lips at the singer's insistence and a part of him doesn't hate the sound of that. he's watched her sing for two nights in a row, and only until tonight did they have a chance to cordially meet. love at first sight. was this what the poets wrote about? he kisses her back, committing the softness of her lips to memory. once they pull apart, his forehead rests against hers, even her giggles sound like a sweet melody. "one night wouldn't be enough for me." he breathes, brushing his thumbs along her cheekbones before planting a kiss on her forehead.

"that's a shame." a frown turns his lips down, "he missed out on two great daughters. his loss." charlie grins softly in attempt to lighten up the mood. although he does mean what he says. if a child ever sprung up somewhere, he wouldn't abandon them. "honorable outlaws. well ain't that contradicting?" a quiet laugh escapes him, smiling widely and turning his head up to look at the sky. eyes close as bea traces her fingers along his palms. "early in the mornin'." he turns his head down to look at her, the corner of his lips curls into a faint smile. "we have to leave town as soon as th' rooster crows." he looks to the barn where a muffled sound of laughter and yelling can be heard. "can i stay with you?" gaze turns down to their hands, bringing hers to his lips and smiling softly.

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the near slip up snags in silas' throat, but not before amara catches it. how is it that they both have these moments in which it's as if nothing has changed? normally when you divorce someone, there's no reverting back to anything. people can't wait to get out and stay away. but even in having those thoughts, amara still can't imagine a time in which silas wouldn't be there. would that change as their children grew? would theo and iliana reach eighteen and split their world enough to sever amara and silas' relationship completely? it's enough to cause a burning in her eyes, though emotion doesn't swell. she made a promise: there will be no issues today.

"hmm, let me think," she ponders before tapping her index finger to her chin. "i liked the room where everything was oversized." amara's gaze shifts to silas, a sly grin forming. "it was nice to see your dad look small." before her ex-husband could read too much into the comment, she continues, "he used to tease me about not being able to reach things, about being so tiny." amara thought back on her first dorm room, on silas barging in and demanding she take a paper topic back that he had stolen from her. he watched her struggled to reach a box where she kept all of her teas but only once they were together did he joke about how badly she'd organized things for her height. when she'd asked how long he'd been holding that judgement in, the reply felt obvious. since the beginning, obviously. but he liked watching her stretch up onto her tip-toes and how her cute little bum would peak out from beneath her pajama bottoms. their love had been so simple back then.

theo perks at the trip down memory lane, beaming between his parents because he thinks it's a good sign; that if silas and amara talk about all their good times, they can somehow get back to them. "you're still tiny, mom," he says with a playful bump of their shoulders. "since dad moved out you've used the step ladder way more than you used to. so, i think he was on to something." amara blinks, laughing at the fact that he's noticed how often she's had to use it to reach something. their son had long ago reached the age of catching things neither of his parents thought he would; becoming his own little person.

a placid smile curls on silas' lips in reaction to amara's eyeroll. such a skill is developed from being the middle child and babysitting maisie for harmonia because she was either too cheap to hire a nanny or had trust issues. he found that dealing with children is easy if you pretend to be interested in what they have to say. which isn't a far cry to how he handles adults. although they're less easy to convince you care because of their cynical nature. garnering information and knowing someone's weakness isn't interest. it's merely tact. he only reserves his undivided attention to people he cares about but after the divorce, that's a mistake he won't make again. to carry someone's secrets and being the only one who knows things that no one else does and never once think to use it against them, it wasn't like him and thus there's no denying that it's love.

amara's smug expression after one of the children acts as peacemaker to ward the others from pushing and shoving to step into one of the exhibits inspires a spiritless expression to fall over his features. it doesn't stop there, however. he mocks the kid's high pitched voice under his breath, arms crossed and head bobbing side to side. what a little narc.

to make matters worse, he notices that theo tends to gravitate more towards his mother. which is fine. she's his mother, after all. does it make him a little jealous? of course. but instead of making a big show out of it and break his promise to his son, the blond simply brushes it off with a smile. everything is fine and dandy! he takes out a bag of cheetos and a diet coke, for balance of course. green eyes peer over to amara's more conscious and legitimately balanced lunch before dragging away to theo as he comes to join them and breaks the silence.

my marriage. he thinks to himself as he pops a cheeto into his mouth. "the vortex room was fun." silas answers, dusting off his fingers before resting his arms on the table. "it's a good thing we didn't go in there before lunch, i'd hate to be witness to that disaster if any of these kids get motion sickness." he offers a cheeky smile before turning to look at amara to engage her in the conversation so theo can see that he's serious about not ruining this day for him. "what about you, hon- amara." honey. in his defense, they've only been divorced for a month.

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ANTHONY BRIDGERTON & KATE SHARMA in a Netflix Bridgerton Promo

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a heavy roll of her eyes is the only response she deigns to give. of course he didn't know the child's name. that's the way silas moves through the world - barely giving the time of day or a care to anyone and yet he's adored. amara's charm usually came from playing hard to get, from being mysterious and aloof, and then becoming the most interested in whomever or whatever she was doing. but that didn't work so well with kids. they wanted you to engage from the onset. if there's a positive to be taken from silas' backhanded comment, it's that it rights amara into not caring as much about who theo's classmates might like more; and she has no desire to be a pta all-star.

as the class continues to move through each room of the museum, taking turns with who gets to interact with each display of illusion, amara finds her footing. when kids complain they haven't gotten a chance to engage with something, she's quick to help diffuse the tension. to the point that another classmate of theo's chides, "guys, we don't have to fight about it! mrs. stavros is making sure we all get a turn." amara nods with a smile of encouragement, hoping no one caught the shiver she had when she was called mrs. stavros. that's who she still feels like, in a lot of ways. though the farther out from the divorce she gets, the more returning to her maiden name appeals.

a bundle of kids surrounds both she and silas as they walk from exhibit to exhibit, with theo sticking closer to his mother. a fact that keeps amara's ego plenty high. silas may be accustomed to beating her in a multitude of categories but the fact that their son still has a preference is enough to silence him nine times out of ten. when lunch time comes, they're both split in making sure everyone is taken care of and not choking on a stack of pringles or half a piece of oreo that didn't go down the right way. after theo's teacher wolfs down her food at an impressive speed, silas and amara get a chance to sit. it's then that theo leaves his friends in favor of sitting with his parents for the remainder of lunch. "what's been your favorite illusion, dad?" he asks, eating from amara's container of grapes.

constant arguments and annoyance over the slightest things had become a routine. saying i love you felt more like an apology than a declaration of love. before either of them realized it, they were sitting across from each other in a conference room with a folder containing their divorce papers. silas' hand didn't shake when he signed the papers. letting the pen glide with ease like he were signing the bill at a restaurant instead of parting ways with the love his life. but he loves her, present tense.

"ah, c'est vrai." ah, so it is. brows raise delicately as he makes a show of looking at the time on his phone. a bit too young for his taste and he's certain that she shares the same sentiment. when one of theo's classmates approaches him, silas looks down at her and puts on a more pleasant expression. "i'll be right there... child." is he supposed to remember a name? before stepping forward to see what the all the hullaballoo is about, he looks back and says, "if you want to be a pta all-star like me, you can start by not sulking in the back. they're elementary school kids, not critics." perhaps worse. children are known to be excruciatingly blunt. boredom and not wanting to seem like a deadbeat dad after the divorce is what inspired him to get further involved in the parent teacher association.

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the list containing the worst parts about losing silas was a long one. some days it made amara sad, but most of the time, it just made her angry. she couldn't stand being in her marriage after a certain point and yet now that she's no longer in it, she thinks about all other ways she could have tried to save it. when those thoughts arise though, she tries to tell herself she did enough. the failure of their marriage was not on her alone. but then silas makes a stupid joke, one that rubs her the wrong way, and amara is forced to battle how she spent the first ten minutes being in his vicinity tracking him across their son's classroom. because he looked good. it felt so juvenile: her irritation with him and attraction to him. god help her.

"not yet," she replies, tone curt and clipped. but then she flashes a sarcastic smile, "but the day is young, monsieur." amara knows silas got her point and that he agrees, even if they want to be dismissive of each other. a charming little girl appears in front of them and tries her best to draw silas' attention to her. "mr. stavros, you have to come look!" since the divorce, silas became even more involved with the kid's school it seemed. theo and iliana both talked about how much their friends liked him, how their classes enjoyed his presence. realizing the truth of that continues to sting as she's forced to watch the illusion from the back of the group.

their divorce happened because their differences had risen to the surface once again. however, unlike in the past, they couldn't go on constantly fighting and arguing for the kids sake. if there is one thing that they could agree on it's not wanting a toxic environment for theo and iliana. it's one thing getting dumped and another going through an entire legal process to get rid of someone. it was easier for silas to hide his sadness behind a mask of pettiness. when in reality, he missed amara. waking up to her face every morning, sharing a space—a home, their home. not the condo he bought where he ate and slept alone in.

a slight smile tugs at his lips, looking on as their son joins the rest of his classmates in front of a perplexing image that a tour guide going on about. heads snaps in his ex-wife's direction as she starts setting rules. although looking at her does bring a bout of longing and sharp ache in his chest that sinks down to the pit of his belly, he ignores it. "i don't have a problem." bright hues turn away, staring ahead before asking, "do you have a problem?" he grumbles before sighing and rolling his eyes. "what's this 'we'? are you speaking french?" while the joke is lame, he doesn't hold back a chuckle.

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a heavy sigh falls from her lips at charlie's response. though it's warranted, it still stings. if only she could be enough to stick around for. but then again, that's silly. they've only just met. they hardly know each other. "if i say i don't, will that make a difference? if i say it's a great idea." her fingers tug his chin down to meet her lips again, silencing their rational thoughts for a moment longer. when bea lets go, it's with quiet giggles. "you might be the most respectful traveler this town has ever seen. when women put themselves in a man's path, there's hardly ever rejection." she smiles up at him, "i'm tryin' not to take it personally." because beatrice knows, deep down, that it's not. he wouldn't be kissing her if there wasn't something between them. he's just trying to be kind to her heart.

"my father wasn't as strong, luci's either." silence settles again, cut by the sadness of the statement, the boisterous discussions in the barn down the way. charlie's people seemed to be enjoying their accommodations at least. she pats her hand to his chest, trying to force her needs back into the small caverns of her body they're used to being shoved into. "just goes to show you that not all outlaws are bad. some of them are damn near honorable. who woulda thunk it?" bea teases, rubbing her fingers against the calluses of charlie's palms. "do you leave early in the morning, or will i be able to see you one last time?"

“yea’ that makes sense.” bea’s opinion on the matter answers charlie’s question. he has always felt uncomfortable by that sort of reaction. the look of pity in the eyes of everyone who extended their condolences dug deeper into the wound, never allowing it to fully close and heal. poor, poor charles powell, an orphan at such a young age. he must have a hard time getting by. everybody asked the same questions. but he knew the truth. horatio was only half alive and had generously given his son seven more years. the walls weren’t thick enough to dispel the noises. every night, he would hear his father crying from the study. understandably so, he had lost his soulmate. it was unfathomable to imagine how he must have felt. fatigued by the string of tragedies that in his life, charlie can’t give lose anyone else. people aren’t yours to keep, no matter how much you think they belong to you. 

careful not to trip over something in the dark, he follows bea as she leads them outside. the pressure of her finger over his lips lingers as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. due to the lack of clouds in the sky, the stars are completely visible and bright. he tilts his head up to take in the sight before turning to look down at the songstress as she pulls him in closer. at her request, a beat of hesitation falls over his features. from the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew that he was trespassing into dangerous territory. that feat at the bar had been false confidence, he was over the moon because she’d noticed him. “you may.” he says curtly and more quiet than normally. neck cranes forward to meet her lips, hands delicately wander up her waist, feeling the curves of her lithe frame beneath the fabric. there’s a fire inside that only grows as their kiss grows more urgent. he’s holding her face in his hands, softly tracing patterns on it as they both pull away for some air. 

same thing can be said for him. his hands fall to her shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze and frowning softly. “i don’t think that’s a good idea, bea. i like you, i do but i’m leavin’ in the mornin’ and— you understand, right?”

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interacting with childen that weren't her own was never amara's favorite thing to do. let alone having to help take care of a full class of them with silas. but for theo, she would do anything; and despite the somewhat turbulent waters amara's family has been living in since she and silas separated, the divorce was final now. everything was stamped out in fine print. they were moving forward, and for theo and iliana's sake, amara would try to swallow any lingering resentment towards their father. she could spend five hours with him, the time would surely fly.

when theo's voice questions their ability to remain civil, her heart almost cracks in half. as if it wasn't already shattered and being held together by sheer will and determination to not crumble over the loss of the truest, deepest love and friendship she'd ever known. "don't worry, sweet boy. we'll be fine," amara smiles before caressing his face. she's aware that soon he'll be averse to her touch. there was no end in sight to her pain.

she watches as he joins his classmates, all of them huddling to look at the first illusion in front of them. amara speaks quietly then, not bothering to look at silas as she does. if theo needed them to be solid, she would become a stone. "we can't let him see any more than he has. from here on out, if we have problems, we keep them far away from both the kids." her gaze betrays the resolute she'd come to not more than thirty seconds ago as she turns to look at her now ex-husband. "i mean it, silas. we have to be better."

couldn’t they have used sittertree.com? don’t they doordash babysitters nowadays? how difficult can it be to find a chaperone? these are questions silas asks himself as he and amara make a headcount of the group they were assigned. except her counting is overlapping his and he has to start over again. for someone who’s good at math, he’s sure shit at counting people. whatever. his ex-wife can do the counting if she’s so inclined. theo couldn’t have looked more nervous about the entire ordeal. both of his parents in the same room, in the same vicinity even, was a recipe for disaster. sure, everyone of his classmates thought it was cool that his parents worked at museums around the city. some of them, in their naive and delusional minds, proclaim that someday he would be their stepson. 

after verifying that everyone was present and no one had been left behind, theo peers up at both his parents and sighs. silas’ eyes stray away from his phone and lock the screen before leaning down to meet his son as he uses a hand to gesture them to move closer. “what’s up, t?” 

“can you not fight today, please?” the boy asks softly, displaying as much worry as someone his age can bear. which is a lot. goodness, he looks and is so much like his mother. those big, brown eyes that had the power to control him like a marionette. “that’s all up to your mother.” silas whispers, looking over at amara with a raised brow.

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amara listens to the details of his answers, dissecting them for the information she's interested in. a friend. she thinks on it, wondering who the person is and what they're like, if they have an affection for the supernatural or immortality. italians seem to be romantic about life in their own way, their customs placing value on longevity as well as death. amara doesn't bother pressing further though, keeping their conversation light. the suspicions she has don't seem like they lead to anything treacherous. plus, that's not why she's curious. her faith in silas remains as it had when they were first alive. she just wants to be in on what her lover deems important.

"perhaps it should happen within the next few days then," she teases, turning around to face silas instead of the sea. "my patience for chastity ended a very long time ago." with him, in fact. once she'd bitten the forbidden fruit, amara couldn't find it within herself to care about such sins. "and i'm wearing off-white, so, the chaplain can't comment on making a mockery of celibacy." she comes to stand on the tips of her toes and kisses her soon-to-be husband, arms draped over his shoulders despite the rising revelations of her robe. another bonus of living in italy: while the rest of the world continued to move toward a culture of purity, italians remain open to human connection, to affection and sensuality. no one would look at silas and amara with anything other than happiness for a couple who seem so deeply in love.

when she pulls back, amara fixes silas' shirt with a smile. "i hope that's not too last minute for your friend." there's a pause, the comment landing a bit flat until she questions, "why haven't you invited them for dinner?" silas was the more social of the two. even thousands of years ago, amara didn't feel compelled to fill her time with others. it took a special kind of connection for her to want a companion of any kind. "we live in a villa. don't you want to entertain? or have the years worn on your need for a captivated audience?"

she resembles a goddess emerging from a fortress, silas' focus doesn't waver from amara, even as he gratuitously accepts the cappuccino. "grazie." he says, without attempting to sound remotely italian in spite of being able to pick up any language their hearts desire and speak it seamlessly. "noted. nothing too flashy or extravagant." as long as it meant he could marry her, he'd wear a potato sack. well, let's not go that far. the beauty of being as powerful as they are is that they can do whatever. if amara wants timeless then timeless it is.

lower lip sticks out playfully, "i was hoping you'd approve of the top hat." he smiles against her lips and kisses her back. as she runs her fingers along the marks on his neck, flashbacks of last night cross his mind. gruff pleads to be marked repeated again and again. "you're right! we should be saving ourselves for marriage." he tries not to break the serious expression, turning away to place the cup down on the table nearby.

an arm moves around her waist, pulling her in close and standing behind her as they look on at the beautiful scenery. a hand rests against the railing while the other rests sprawled against her stomach, his thumb draws gently circle over the lush material of her robe. "a wedding by the sea." silas nods, resting his chin lightly on top her head, "i like that." he presses a kiss to her hair. at her question, his body goes slightly tense. "i have a witness, yes. a friend. you haven't met him but he's an interesting fellow." if he were to say 'good' it would be sketchy considering the blond didn't exactly seem like someone who runs with morally sound beings. "as for the chaplain, one from the local chapel will do. it's not like we're going to be placed on a waitlist." and maybe they will ruin another couple's wedding plans but silas is nothing if not selfish.

[hwrote]

the momentum behind silas when he rises from the ground is like that of a tsunami. its course can't be changed. and before amara can warn noah about retaliation, both boys are on the ground. "silas, stop!" she cries out, alerting kayden that something is terribly wrong. she's grateful when silas' roommate shows up, hauling him off of noah but not before the damage has been done. amara drops to the floor, avoiding kayden and silas in favor of helping noah to his side so he can breathe. much like silas, he has a cut to his eyebrow, a darkening bruise blooms on the opposing side of his face. it looks worse than what he'd managed to land. her gaze rises with a burning judgement, wanting both of them gone. "get him out of here, kayden. they both need to see the nurse."

amara turns her focus back to noah, helping to steady him. his breath is labored, blood oozing from his cut. kayden and silas seem to stand in wait of something else but all their presence does is piss her off more. she gets noah upright and finally answers kayden's question, "ask silas." dark hues move to silas, lacking the care he'd elicited from her less than an hour ago. "just don't let him tell you some sob story where he's the victim." noah's arm slings over her shoulder at that, the two of them leaving their classmates behind. amara has no desire to wait another second to get him help, allowing silas and kayden to do whatever they wanted. she didn't care and she never would. let the two of them figure their own shit out.

she's spent too much time giving silas the benefit of the doubt and every time it's come back to bite her in the ass. but the lesson, especially after tonight, has been learned. she's done with him. she's done trying. never again will he dictate her mood one way or the other; and those confusing feelings she may have called butterflies or attraction were now dead and buried six feet under ground.

upon noticing the tears clinging to the corners of her eyes, silas realizes he’s gone too far. every step she takes away from him hurts more than the last. knowing it’s for the best that they keep their distance, he stays frozen in place. amara feels sorry for him and he’s done nothing to corroborate her assumptions. there’s no saving him and she’s right, it’s not her responsibility to deal with his internal conflict. “i never asked you to.” one more nail in the coffin wouldn’t hurt. maybe this is how it was meant to end all along? they go their separate ways, pretending that either of them exist and by the time they leave, they wouldn’t even remember each others names. but that’s impossible. he could never forget his best friend.

when noah stomps into the room, silas snaps out of his thoughts and turns his attention to the other. if he’s been looking for her everywhere then he’s exactly as oblivious as suspected. unable to fight back the look of guilt, he draws in a deep breath. attention lands on amara as she reaches for his arm, visibly wincing at the sight. another blow to his bruised heart. he can’t even deny having done anything because it would be a lie. instead, the blond doesn’t react to being shoved. he’s numb. angry. furious. he’s been a lying, phony cheat ever since setting foot on campus. no one knew him. not the real him—but who is he? a poor little rich boy.

fist collides with jaw, silas falls back and sees tiny specks of stars. a hand settles on the area impacted, bright optics aiming daggers at noah. blood begins to ooze out of his lower lip and a throbbing pain radiates throughout his entire jawline. fuck that hurt. “you’re right, she doesn’t deserve it—any of it.” he makes eye contact with amara for a split second before shuffling to his feet and scrunching his brows tightly together. “but you do.” bellowing a cry, he charges towards the other male at full speed and tosses them both into the floor. pinning noah down with his lower body, he strikes him hard in the face, mercilessly and untamed. successfully finding an outlet to his frustration.

“woah, woah! what the fuck is going on here?!” kayden skids into the room before yanking silas off of noah by the back of his blazer. with sore fists and a throbbing lip, he pants and rips away from his friend’s grip. “oh my god. man, that does not look good. you need to get this checked out, pronto.” kayden turns to amara as if asking her what happened. silas frowns, watching as she comes to noah’s aid, taking his side.

[hwrote]

"i don't think it's apologizing so much as it is acknowledging someone's pain," bea replies honestly, because that's how she's always felt about loss. whether it be of a person or something else you once loved. the loss is why people feel sad, the lack of having more time to convey the things they want to say or try again for an opportunity. "it's just someone sayin', i see that pain and i wish you didn't have to go through it."

charlie's kindness remains the part of his personality that's most surprising. as an outlaw, you'd assume he'd be out for blood. or for himself. but so far, pretty much since the moment they first spoke, he's been trying his best to build bea up. and he's doing a fine good job of it, able to rival her mother or sister. in fact, it's part of what keeps her quiet: how easy the compliments flow from charlie, her cowboy, and yet her mama could hardly bring herself to do the same. beatrice realizes there's something to it, whether it's insecurity or a fear that if her daughter lets the positivity go to her head, she might leave. a valid worry to have, if bea could be honest. because charlie doesn't have to talk about the wonders of california for her to want to go. she's died a little inside with each letter she's gotten from the dubois children. forced to stay and work, and sing when she can in a saloon that barely pays her for the talent.

instead what she offers in gratitude is a gentle rub to charlie's back, up and down just once as she comes to stand beside him at the sink. again, there's that kindness. a proper gentleman, except better. no man she's ever known has offered to clean a dish, let alone clean the ones he didn't dirty himself. after he washes, bea sets them in the tiny wooden rack luci made about a year ago. she'd seen one in town and decided it wouldn't be that hard to make on her own. "we all have our talents," she agrees, smiling up at charlie when he hands her the final plate.

a stream of creaks from the other room forces a finger to his lips, dragging them both back to the other side of the house. a tiny covered porch sits in the dark, with nothing more than a few old, wooden chairs overlooking the fields behind them.

it's only once they're out the swinging side door that bea grows a little bolder. with a gentle lead, she pulls charlie against her along the side of the house. "i'd like to kiss you," the singer says between the chorus of crickets beyond them. she waits a minute before helping to tug him closer, offering all the signs of permission before their lips meet at her insistence. it releases every last ounce of tension she's been carrying, somewhat melting into charlie when she feels his frame eliminating what little space was left. she'd had a sense that this was what she needed. but the longer it lasts, the more she realizes it's charlie that's set her body on fire. others have tried before him and not a one has given her a stomach full of butterflies. she would drown in him if he'd let her.

"oh, i'm in trouble," she breathes, "i don't want you to go back to that barn tonight... i don't want you to go anywhere."

condolences came in spoken word, cards, letters, flowers and baskets of jams, fruit and candies. charlie gave them away to the maids and butlers. only reading the letters and cards out of courtesy and discarding them soon after. "s'alright. it happened a long time ago." for a moment, adele and horatio's ghosts kept him company. finding his mother tending to her garden or his father sitting at his desk in the study. the steel heir to felt lost and unfit to take over as sole proprietor. then his godfather arrived just in time and suggested a partnership. bereft and alone, he believed when anthony said he would be the father and guide he lost. "why do ya' think we do that? apologize when people die?" he asks, looking down at their hands. she radiates warmth and comfort. familiarity. it's both a shame and a good thing he'll be gone in the morning. staying longer would be mean there'd be more to miss when it was a time to leave.

at bea's answer, charlie tilts his head and frowns. it would have been sweet if she tagged along with the gang on their journey to california. although he's not sure how she'd react to their reckless lifestyle. as she explains her reasoning, his expression changes into that of understanding. "i've heard nothin' but great things about it. the golden state. sounds promising t'me." while he's content with the life he's built, maybe if he struck gold he could return to illinois and get back at his godfather. reclaim his family's steel factory and offer the guys a job there. he feels like a coward for running. "you're a good person, bea. one of the best i've ever met." a sincere smile spreads across his face, seeking her gaze in the dimly lit room. "i mean it. ya' let a group of scrappy men into your home that ya' just met. i'm gonna be prayin' that goodness one day comes right back t' ya and all your dreams come true." since he's done a fair share of profane things, he's not sure if he and the man upstairs are in good terms but maybe if it's for bea he might answer.

"thanks again for the bread and tea. luci's got a real gift. i'm startin' to think it runs in the family." charlie compliments with a nod after chugging down the last of his tea that turned lukewarm. "i'll wash the dishes, s' the least i can do." he stands up and begins gathering their empty plates and cups.

[hwrote]

when the cup shatters, it's as if both of them finally come alive. more than they've been since inés' return. joaquin's dismissal of the mess is a sign in and of itself. his arms wrap around her and suddenly, it's as if she's eight or twelve or sixteen again. despite being stubborn and all the time that's passed between them, joaquin still feels like home. she's only at peace when she's with him. her grasp mirrors his, wrapping around his back, holding him just as close; snaking into joaquin's dark tresses just briefly before she notices the anguish in his voice.

"joaquin..." his name comes out in a broken whisper, the shock of his desperation leaves her breathless. she takes his hands in hers, quickly trying to relinquish his guilt before her mind can even catch up with the role he's played in her life's story. "you didn't want me to go." it's easy to remember the lead up to the day she left. how at first, joaquin tried to reason with her. with kindness. with the love of their friendship and the companionship that came from growing up together. when that didn't work, the things they said became hurtful in ways that only two people who knew each other deeply could manage. she stills regrets most of them. "but there was no stopping me." her gaze connects with his then, forcing him to look at her from the guidance of his dimpled chin. "what i became is not your fault."

silence settles again before inés pulls joaquin back up, their fingers intertwining without thought. "por favor, no tengas miedo." the idea of him being afraid of her or for her breaks the vampire's heart in equal measure. "no quiero que me mires como una maldición."

inés' words, albeit true, strike a pang in joaquin's heart. would she had told him in the letters, anyway? he isn't certain that she'd share something so life changing. knowing her she probably wouldn't in fear that he might set off looking for her. and knowing himself, he would have. without a shadow of a doubt. fighting her on that would do no good for neither them. after having spent a decade torturing himself with the past, rupturing this small peace with what-ifs is the last thing he wants to do.

gaze casts downward, nodding slowly and ignoring the sting of jealousy as the thought of her and another crosses his mind. if only for a second. lips press tightly together whilst pushing away the unwanted thoughts that consume his mind. sinful, inadequate and traitorous thoughts. he finds that around her he's more man than a wannabe saint. feeling emotions that make people human. sometimes the priest forgets that he's made of bone and flesh just like everyone else but the vampire's presence makes him remember.

"she... she gave you away to him?" grip tightens around the ceramic, anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach, rising to his chest and spreading like a wildfire through his bloodstream. that was exactly what joaquin had been fearing. inés leaving her father's abuse to fall into the hands of someone else that wanted to take advantage of her. "i'm sorry, inés. i'm sorry that they hurt you." he lets the mug fall to the floor, shattering into a pieces and spilling the coffee on the hardwood floor. disregarding the mess, he steps over it and wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace. "i wish life had been more fair to you and i'm sorry i caused you more pain by putting my own first." he sank down to his knees, hands clasped together in supplication. "por favor, perdóname."

[hwrote]

if she hadn’t been full of regret, the lump of emotion that’s risen in her throat may have crumbled amara’s ability to remain cold. tears do bite at the brim of her dark hues, but not because what silas has said has made her feel weak. she’s just sad that what momentum they might have been building into something other than this, is gone again. back to square one, where they would probably always be. because just when silas becomes human, he has to revert back to the vicious, quick-tongued boy he’s been since they met each other; and it’s not because he’s a scorpio with a natural ability to cut someone where it hurts. it runs deeper: the well of insecurity. as everyone’s often does. but she’ll be damned if he wins this fight, if he uses a moment of doubt that he was able to witness, and created within amara — against her. she knows she’s worthy. it’s everyone else, including him, that’s the problem.

she watches as he assess her for the damage of his blow, and god, if he wasn’t such an ass this night could have ended so differently. this attraction she has can’t exist. she can’t enjoy looking at that face, how gorgeous his eyes are. she can’t dream of tracing the line of his jaw with her fingers or taking his mask off in a permanent way. she can’t surprise him with a smile and lean forward to kiss the lips that speak such venom. she can’t appreciate how handsome he looks in everything from this suit he’s got on to that silly, collegiate, paraprofessional outfit he wore the morning he came to beg for her help on the paper idea he stole. the solvent to amara’s ire has been staring her in the face from day one. she should, from now on, avoid silas at all costs. he’s shown her who he is time and time again. these brief stints of kindness aren’t real. there’s no need to keep trying for a different result when she knows the outcome she’ll get every time.

“you would deem yourself the hero of my night.” amara mirrors that same look, the exact tilt of her head in opposition to his. “you shouldn’t though, when you think about it. because you’re right. you won’t always be there to talk me off ‘the ledge,’” she pauses and takes a slight step back, preparing to remove herself from this twisted game silas seems almost excited to play. “but then again, you’re the one who put me on it. so, i guess that means if i don’t have to deal with you, i won’t have to feel like this.”

before another word can be said, frantic footsteps sound in the hall. they come to a skittering halt at the door. “amara!” noah booms, “i’ve been looking everywhere for you.” he moves fast to come stand at her side, taking in her demeanor for what it is. a discomfort reads on her face, the stone resolve wavering. his eyes move to silas, a towering figure. from where noah stands, she can see how it looks menacing. “why does she look upset? what did you do to her?” he questions, turning to look silas in the eye. “didn’t get enough of making me feel like shit, you had to pick on someone else?” amara reaches for noah’s arm and tries to stop it all before it starts. the clashing of egos, a need to defend someone who doesn’t need defending. he rips from her grasp, shoving silas back a few paces. “it’s one thing to do to me,” he notes, pushing him again. “but in what world does she deserve it?” the point is a little warranted, but just as amara goes to say something, noah decks silas across the face. and with not much else to do, amara watches the fight that’s been brewing all night long as it comes to a head.

insane. silas looks insane, switching up on amara abruptly and out of the blue. good thing everyone else nearly a yard away from earshot. he can only imagine what would reach his parents after whispers and rumors have twisted into something ludicrous. you should lock your boy away, fifi. he's a lunatic! jaw tenses as she moves to stand before him, every word hits harder than the last. he digs for the good and while there's been some special moments in his life, none are attributed to money. for instance, running and laughing until his stomach hurt in a dark hallway with someone who knows him better than anyone else. even himself.

being poor isn't an insult. it's only a punchline he can use to feel superior. silas is an equal opportunity hater. rich or poor, if someone pisses him off he'll tap into their insecurities. "it must have struck a nerve because you sound offended." head tilts ever so slightly, his voice falls in volume and there's a hint of sarcasm in it. lips purse into a pout, a mock sympathetic look in his eyes. "unfortunately for you, i have no shame. whereas, you, well you can't be in a room without second guessing your worthiness." he hisses before scrunching his nose, "i think you should get over yourself." hands settle on his hips, looking her straight in the eyes, "i won't always be there to talk you off the ledge, you know."