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thermohalyne · 7 months

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My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

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thermohalyne · 1 year

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yours, now and forever.

the rewrite!

💌// hello :D oh boy, the author's note here is going to be a long one. around one year ago, i fell in love with bridgerton. pride and prejudice was already my favorite novel and the movie was equally amazing, so i decided to write my own regency era fic. it was my magnum opus for a long, long time. nothing i could ever write would rival the original YNAF. then, i reread it, and god it was a mess. i hated it. with the motivation of the wonderful @zooone without whom this fic wouldn't even be possible, i wrote. (as much as i hated it at first). zone helped proofread, brainstorm, listen to my rants, motivate me, and did everything else under the sun. half of the ideas in here are hers, and i literally could not have written this without her. i could not ask for a better online little sister. i love you so so much and thank you for all your help. to @honeyedlavendar, @deadphantomsociety and last but not least, @starsyoubreaklikesugardust, thank you thank thank you for supporting me and encouraging me to keep writing. i love you ^_^ now, this fic i've spent about a month on, and it is a LOT different than the original. (it's still up if you'd like to reread.) there are some blurbs that are canon to the YNAF universe that i wrote after the original, and they're not required reading, but i do encourage you to check them out. (and send requests for any ideas!) i really, really hope you all enjoy, and again, thank you to everyone especially zone. one last point. i use she/her pronouns throughout the fic but the character is unnamed. i prefer writing that way and my apologies if those are not your pronouns. enjoy :D

word count // 11.6k

it’s beautiful this time of year. she’d always loved the springtime, not only because of the warmer air and the fresh scent of flowers, but because it meant she was traveling up to the town.

the town was one of her favorite places, if not her favorite, to ever be. as much as she loved her father’s estate in the countryside, complete with its own stables, riding grounds, and grandoise library - nothing compared to stepping outside the door of the town manor and seeing carriages bustling down the streets and people laughing, and feeling the sun shine down, casting gorgeous shadows of the leaves.

springtime was the social season - when every family who meant something flocked from their vast country homes to the smaller, yet still as grand, manors that lined the streets of london.

the social season also meant she would see friends and family that she barely saw otherwise. each year, as her carriage pulled up to the manor, she could see the figure of her favorite cousin, and she could not contain her excitement.

this year was no different. as soon as the carriage pulled to a stop, the girl was bounding out, nearly tripping on a loose pathing, and bombarded her cousin with a tight embrace.

“oh niki,” she exclaimed, leaning into her cousin, “it has been so long. my god, your hair has grown!” the girl’s mouth widens in surprise as she brings a hand to twirl the ends of her cousin’s hair.

“i have not cut it since you last graced my presence, cousin.” niki beams, “after all, i wanted to keep my hair long for my season.”

there was a glint of anticipation beyond measure in niki’s eyes. this year niki would be making her debut at the first ball of the season, where they would announce themselves as open candidates for matching.

the tradition was as follows: each lady, upon turning eighteen years, would make their entrance into society, and find themselves a husband. it would be done so via a series of balls, in which the ladies would dance with men who approached them, and be courted by men for four months before they were offered a hand in marriage. niki, being from germany and having to find a companion to travel to london with, would be debuting herself a little later - at her current stature of one and twenty.

according to niki, she had spent the entirety of last year taking notes and writing down tips from older ladies in germany in a small pink journal - all so that she would find her match in her first year.

most ladies, if not all, find their match in their first season. there were some unlucky ones who took two, and even three. they were generally looked down upon by society, and niki would be damned if she didn't get her husband her first go-round.

she, on the other hand, was completely comfortable without a husband. she found the whole courting process tedious, as she thought it a waste of time to spend hours at tea parties and balls flaunting off. this would be her last year of freedom, so to speak, as ladies around the town were beginning to imply, (more like shove in her face), that she needed to be married soon, as it was quote unquote improper for a lady approaching five and twenty to be unmarried.

she took pride in her family, especially her father, and if he were to somehow lose out on business prospects or be shunned from society simply because she did not fancy any man in london, she would feel most guiltily.

“cousin?” niki cocks her head to catch the eldest’s attention, “you are always so far away, even when you are standing right in front of me. do enlighten me, what is on your mind that has you so troubled?”

the girl simply smiled and shook her head. “i am only mentally grieving the loss of my freedom, niki, and nothing more. you know i am not as eager as you are to be wed, and yet, the general populace are starting to talk. as much as i may protest, i fear that within the next two seasons i must procure myself a match.” the girl sighed, lacing her arm within her cousin’s as they entered the manor.

they enter the drawing room and the scent of fresh flowers wafted in the air. the drawing room had alabaster walls, green accents, and was complete with gorgeous chestnut furniture commissioned by her father from a local carpenter after her mother had mentioned an affinity for the look of chestnut. the tables were obviously recently polished, and sat right in the middle of a small side table were scones and tea.

“oh cousin, you are always so dreary!” niki sighs, having a seat on the sofa. “pass me a scone, will you? i am starved.” upon her completion of niki’s request, she sat down at her own small table, where her father had left a newly bound book for her.

although her father was often physically absent due to business travels, he was not emotionally absent. he made sure that his daughter, no matter how old she was, was properly taken care for and had everything a young lady could possibly ever ask for.

she did not mind his absence though. she enjoyed her own company, and had no problem finding things to busy herself, what with her insatiable curiosity. she’d began reading more intensive books at ten, playing the pianoforte at twelve, and sewing at fourteen, though she’d stopped once she began pricking herself too often. recently, she had picked up drawing, and she wanted to head to the markets sooner rather than later to pick up a brand new journal and some charcoal utensils.

tuning niki’s drawls about her season out, she spoke. “niki,” the girl asked, placing a small flower from the vase on the table into the book so she could save her place, “i am going to take to the markets if you would like to join. you would be agreeable company.”

“sounds wonderful.” niki beamed, “i need to pick up some new ribbons anyhow, the first ball is only a mere three nights a ways.”

upon hearing her cousin bring up the ball yet again, she could not help herself as laughter bubbled out of her throat. she shook her head, grabbing a small shawl and wrapping it around her shoulders, before setting out the door to the market, niki in tow.

the market was an average place. everywhere you looked were small shops lit by candlelight and news paper boys trying to hustle a pound or two by selling the latest paper.

there were, of course, men seeking to start the season early as they paraded around the side walks with an air of pompous grace, their eyes manically searching for the girl they were to court. and with men, came girls with their corsets tied a little too tight and their legs crossed graciously as they sat on park benches underneath lacy umbrellas.

“humourless morons in my opinion.” she scoffed as she watched a man procure a smushed flower from the back of his pocket and present it to a lady - the same man who, moments earlier, she’d watched do the same to another only to be rejected. “not an ounce of shame behind their actions. it is honestly a mystery to me how they manage to get away with such behavior.”

“you need to watch your tongue, cousin.” niki teased, her eyes also wandering and scouting for a possible match, “for one day, one of these morons will catch your eye."

“in some other world, yes.” she laughed, shaking her head, “but in this one, i have yet to find one man who possesses the ability to be aware of himself, and i doubt i ever will.”

after mingling amongst the patrons for an hour or two, the girls return home. niki’s hands are filled with pretty ribbons, while her hands are quite empty save for a journal and a pair of charcoal pencils.

as soon as she arrives back at the manor, she bids goodnight to her cousin as night has settled its way into her bones. she hadn’t slept in her room at the town manor in almost a year, and so the minute her skin feels the soft silk of the sheets and the pillow that has been kept well fluffed, sleep weighs her body down.

the next three days go about the same. she spends time in the drawing room with niki, occasionally makes a journey to the park to people-watch and draw, and reading.

she’s sitting in the park, her charcoal pencil composing a beautiful illustration of the park and it’s nature. niki is sitting next to her, a cross-stitch project in her hands. a girl runs up to them, one they recognize, and the girl looks excited.

“you will never guess who is slated to visit.” the girl, a longtime friend of hers named molly, is laughing. “the soot’s! they have not been back to london in ages! and,” her voice drops, “rumor has it - the two eldest, thomas and wilbur, are looking for wives. oh! and how could i forget! they are hosting a friend for the season. there are varying reports - some say it is lord schlatt of york, but most believe it is lord quackity of nevadas, and my, he is wealthy.” she giggles, “i do not want after the wealth though. i have heard that the second eldest soot - thomas - is around my age and is quite handsome. hopefully, they attend the ball. oh! i must go home and start preparing. i do hope to see you there tonight?”

“we will be in attendance.” niki confirms with a soft look and somehow, molly’s smile brightens.

“magnificent!” she laughs, “i will see you there! best of luck to you niki, and you,” molly turns to her, “i will not wish luck for, as i know you will not be courting.”

“i am glad you know me so well, friend.” she smiles, and molly laughs.

“right, well. i shall see you two later.” molly bids her farewells, and niki turns to her.

“did you hear that, cousin?” her voice is filled with titillation and glee. “the soot’s, and their friends too! i am sorry to interrupt your art, but we must go and dress! one of us,” she smiles knowingly at her cousin, “might catch the eldest or,” mischief sparkles in her eye, “lord quackity’s attention.”

“and it will be you, dearest niki. once they behold eyes upon you, they will be smitten for the rest of their lives.” she shuts her book carefully, tucking the charcoal pencil behind her ear as she stands.

niki does the same, dusting the dirt off of her dress as they grasp arms and walk back home.

as soon as they arrive, niki is sent into a frenzy. questions like, “should i wear this dress?” or “which pendant matches better?” are echoed down the long halls of the manor.

she’s already picked out a dress, and it’s rather plain. a pale pink base with barely visible white lace decorating the front, and a white ribbon tied round her waist. her hair tied into a neat bun, and her neck and face accentuated with a matching pearl necklace and set of earrings. she knows her ensemble will attract the least attention, and allow her to stay in the shadows as she pleases.

niki, of course, the very meaning of elegance, was dressed beautifully. her jewelry was polished perfectly and light bounced off of it like a mirror. her dress was a gorgeous blue that made her face pop.

the ball was not short of ladies dressed similar to niki - their faces shining with smiles as they fanned themselves with ornate lace fans lightly. it was the beginning of spring, after all, and the weather was beginning to heat up.

she watched from the sidelines though, carefully cradling a small cup of lemonade until suddenly, the entire room went silent. it was odd - never in her life had she'd heard a room so silent, especially one that was just bouncing with life only moments prior.

she saw the crowd parting for a group of people, and though she couldn't see all of them, she saw one particularly tall male. she craned her neck to get a look at the rest, and their prestige only clicked when they were announced to everyone.

“mr. toby soot of lmanburg,” the steward of the household pointed to a smaller brunette with a bright smile, “mr. thomas soot of l’manburg,” a fairly tall blonde with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “mr. wilbur soot of l’manburg,” he was rather stoic and tall, “and lord quackity of nevadas.” taller than toby but shorter than wilbur, he had a prideful sort of look about him - one that seemingly caught the attention of every lady in the room.

as soon as the announcement of their arrival finished, the ball was back into full swing, with girls being twirled and spun around, and laughter dancing through the air. the small group of four separated, with the two younger men immediately finding themselves dance partners, and quackity entertaining himself with the women that flocked to him. his taller friend seemed to have his own fair share of admirers, but he was ignoring them.

it was the eldest soot though, that tall one, that caught her attention. she cannot decide whether it’s his handsomeness, or if it’s the displeased look on his face, but something about him makes her peel herself off the wall and out of the shadows.

people are bumping into her, but she’s weaving herself through expertly. right as she reaches the two men though, a drunken man pushes her, and she trips over her feet. fortunately, there’s a pair of strong arms that wrap around her waist and prevent her fall.

“are you alright?” the voice is hiding its laughter, and she looks up to find a quirky smile paired with brown eyes boring into her. “i must say, you would have taken a rather nasty fall if i were not here to catch you.” he helps her regain her footing, and as soon as she recognizes him, she bows.

“lord quackity.” she murmurs, downcasting her eyes towards his unnaturally shiny boots. “my apologies, sir.”

“no need for such formalities.” the man laughs as she raises her head back up to meet his eyes. “it was simply a mistake. drunken men, yes?”

“oh, nothing unusual.” she laughs, “take a walk around the town at night, and i bet you would be penniless if you had to give me a dollar for every drunken man you saw. it does not takeaway from the charm though, especially with the way the pond in the park glitters at night.” her eyes sparkle with a certain fondness that does not simply pass the elder man behind quackity. his fist clenches at his side, and he takes a breath, his stoic demeanor returning instantly.

“you speak of the town as if you have grown up here. am i correct in my assumptions, miss?” his voice is enchanting and it’s obvious wilbur is hanging on her every word. his mouth parts slightly as if he were to speak but she begins talking and he shuts his mouth.

“you would be partially correct. i spent my warmer seasons here, and the colder ones on my father’s estate not too far from here. i do consider this my home though.” memories of her in her father’s arms as they strolled around the town come flooding back to her, and her heart fills with warmth.

quackity is quiet for a moment. as he goes to speak, a new song begins, and he looks at her sheepishly. wilbur’s fist clenches at his side, yet again. “forgive me if i am too forward, but would you like to dance? i may not be the best but you draw my curiosity.”

she ducks her head with a smile, and bows, “of course, my lord.”

as the two take hands and begin waltzing around the room, she locks eyes with quackity’s companion. the taller one has his head cocked and is looking at her with a look she cannot place but she assumes is nothing other than pure curiosity. his hands are crossed against his chest, and he is still blatantly ignoring any women that come to his attention. she decides then that she must ask him for a dance.

the dance comes to an end, and with a reddened face, quackity gives her a bow. “i do hope to dance with you at least once more before the night ends, if you are not opposed of course.”

“i am not opposed, my lord. come find me whenever you see fit.” with that, she bows, gives a heart-melting smile, and expertly navigates her way through the crowd towards the eldest soot.

he seems shocked, no, confused, why she’s approaching him. “mr. soot.” she curtsies. she receives no greeting back - not even an acknowledgement of her presence. he simply stares down at her with blank, cold eyes. “i just had the pleasure of dancing with your companion. he is a wonderful dancer, i must say. do you dance, mr. soot?”

“no.”

“oh. i see. why not?” her hands have come to play with the pearls on her neck, a nervous tick of hers. it’s becoming awkward to keep standing here while this man blatantly ignores her.

“because i do not.” his voice is stern, and finally, he makes eye contact with her. “i do not dance, and if i did, i would not dance with you.” she wonders how he is able to say such nasty words with a blank stare.

“such pleasant words.” she retorts with a bite, “it clearly appears you enjoy your solitude, so i will leave you be. good day.” she huffs, her pride wounded. wilbur, on the other hand, takes a step to follow her, but then returns back to his post, watching her figure practically stomp away from him. she berates herself for even thinking about dancing with him and he berates himself for his sharp tongue.

standing off to the side, niki comes gracefully stepping in. “you danced with lord quackity, so why do you seem so down?”

“his companion,” she shoots a glare at wilbur who, oddly, was already staring at her but averted his gaze once their eyes met, “is an impolite arse with no home training. i do not care how much wealth he boasts for it means nothing if he is rude to every person he comes across. for heaven’s sake, niki, he didn’t even look at me for half of our short-lived conversation!” she is clearly vexed, and as wilbur watches her recant the tale to her cousin from across the room, he cannot help but feel slightly remorseful for his actions.

the guilt rises to his throat and nearly chokes him to death once he sees her scowl lift into a smile at the sight of his friend, and his friend’s equally bright smile as he takes her hand and they proceed to the dancefloor.

wilbur turns away, clenching his fist at his sides and instead decides to take a walk around the grounds and sulk in the byproduct of his inability to communicate.

“miss,” quackity asks her as the dance ends, “i was wondering if you would be home tomorrow, so i may call on you. our dances this evening were wonderful, and i would be most grateful to get to know you more. of course, your decision.” he gives her a smile, and suddenly, the idea of marriage isn’t so bad.

“of course, i would be honored to receive you.” her features soften. “it would be my pleasure.”

“magnificent!” quackity laughs, his chest bursting at the prospect of getting to know the girl more. “i shall see you tomorrow, then?”

“tomorrow, my lord.” she bows, and he shakes his head.

“please, miss, the formalities are not necessary.” he reminds her as the two approach niki, where she is waiting by the carriage. “miss.” he gives niki a bow, which she returns, and then he stands regally again in front of her. “it was a pleasure getting to know you today. i look forwards to our visit.”

his excitement was unmatched. the next morning, as soon as the clock hit a decent visiting hour, his presence was announced at her manor.

he looked nervous, almost, but his look of anxiety was quickly swept away by a bright smile. “miss.” he bowed, “i am here, as promised.” niki gave a small knowing look to her cousin, and then promptly escorted herself out of the room.

niki would only be gone from the room for a mere few hours - as quackity had said he had business to attend to. he did not leave without extending an invitation to both women, inviting them to the soot manor for dinner that evening.

she accepted with a bright smile and a curtsy, but the minute she heard his carriage begin its venture down the road, she groaned loudly.

“i cannot - he is - i cannot.” she tried to gather her words, but couldn’t. “i do not think i will be able to sit at a dinner with the eldest soot and not watch my tongue. he is … there are no words to describe him. oh, this is going to go horribly.”

“tell me, why do you care if it goes horribly?” niki asks, not looking up from her cross-stitching. “i thought you were not looking to marry this season.” there’s a teasing lilt behind the words, and it makes her roll her eyes in displeasure.

“you are so attentive, niki.” she sighs, fiddling with a pillow on the couch. “i … i am not enthused by the idea… but i am not completely opposed to it.” she knows she’s lying to herself - she’s always been severely opposed to marriage, but there was something so captivating and appealing about lord quackity that made her even the slightest bit open to the idea.

“falsehoods.” niki scoffs. “you have said since we are little that you hate marriage! just admit it,” niki simpers, “you have grown affections for quackity! and after only one dance, my god. if i had known it was that easy, i would have set you up to dance ages ago!”

“i have not.” she huffs, giving niki a pointed look. “who is to say that i am not just utilizing the man and his wealth for a nice dinner? i am positive the food tonight will be like nothing either of us have ever had, and a singular dinner will not guarantee his affections for me. i am sure he will not offer his hand in marriage immediately.”

“you speak so lowly of men, my dear cousin. they are but fragile and sensitive creatures, and they fall hard.” niki tuts, putting down her cross stitch. “you are playing a dangerous game and i do hope you will know when to end it.” she sighs, “i only wish for your happiness, but not at the expense of others, and especially not one as sweet as lord quackity. please do keep that in mind.” with that, niki leaves.

as the clock ticks on, and time moves closer and closer to the hour when she is supposed to arrive, her anxieties grow. niki was right - she is walking a thin line, and could hurt a good man in the process, but her heart just isn't in it the way she thinks it's supposed to be.

she watches the townsfolk through the carriage window as she thinks. people have always described love to be this beautiful thing. her own father would tell stories about how he felt like he could not breathe when he was around her mother. she was only so averse to love because of the way her father described it - overwhelming and smothering. her father would say that he felt like he was being strangulated every time he was apart from her mother, and the thought of that just was not appealing to her. she wanted to be her own person, not bound to a singular person for a source of air.

the books described love as some fragile glass knickknack that needed to be cradled gently or else it would crack.

she did not want love if it was similar to asphyxiation and she did not want love if it was delicate and dainty. she wanted a love that she did not have to stifle herself for, and she was positive she would never find it. everyone fell hard and fast - but she thought love at first sight was ridiculous. how was she supposed to decide based on one look - one dance, that this was her life partner?

niki, of course, knew all of this. she was not lying when she said she wanted the best for her cousin and whether or not that was marriage was up to her. niki could sense the yearning though. she could see the lingering glances at happier couples and the hesitance behind every step she took away from men who approached her. she has taken peeks at the novels her cousin picks up from the market - all romance novels. she knew her cousin wanted nothing more than to love and to be in love, but she also knew her cousin was a stubborn woman and would not settle for anything less than what she wanted.

she spoke of an ache in her chest to niki often. they both attributed it to the loss of her mother, but the stars knew better. the hole in her heart was an ache for love - pure, genuine love, and it would come to her in the shape of a tall man with glasses, curly hair and a short temper.

her attention focused from her wandering thoughts to three figures standing by the entrance to the soot manor. lord quackity, with a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, and the two younger soot’s at each side.

“you made it!” quackity is at the carriage door immediately, helping niki out gently, and then her. “you look wonderful, i am so happy you are here. it is not my home, of course my home is back in nevadas, but the soot’s are lovely hosts!” he rambles, talking a million miles a minute.

it's endearing to her, and she finds a small smile creeping it's way up her face. “the manor looks lovely so far, my l- quackity.” she stops herself, remembering the man’s wishes from the night before.

“i am unsure if you were properly introduced to the soot’s.” he leads her gently to the boys, who are making conversation with niki, “this is thomas,” he points to the blonde, “and this is toby.”

“but you may call me tommy. thomas is my father’s name.” the blonde straightens his posture. “it is nice to meet you.”

“father’s name was phil.” the brunette frowns, “not thomas.”

the word was does not slip by her.

“she did not need to know that.” tommy hisses. the brunette seems confused still, and tommy shakes his head, and then glances at his hand. “i hope… i hope you enjoy your night here.” he smiles brightly, putting his hand down quickly. in a flash, she could see words were written on his hand and she suppresses a giggle.

“our brother, wilbur,” the thought of that man makes her chest tighten with upset, “is in the study. he says that he hopes you and your cousin enjoy the grounds and he will try his best to be present at dinner.” toby smiles.

“but if you ask me, he will not be there. he never is.” tommy huffs, turning his back to the group. “i will be in the parlor with the piano, if you will excuse me.”

“excuse him,” quackity laughs awkwardly, “the boy has got a bit of a temper.”

just like his brother, she thinks.

“would you like a tour?” toby asks softly, saddling up to her side. “i do not mind showing you around, i actually quite like this manor compared to the other one. it has more life in it.”

“i feel the same way about my home.” she gives him a soft smile, “i would love a tour, toby. quackity, toby is going to give me a tour around the grounds if you do not mind.”

“no of course not!” quackity grins, “i had some work to finish before dinner any way, i was hoping the boys would entertain the two of you. i am sorry i invited you over too early.” he gives her a bow, “but i swear to you i will be right at your side at dinner. you have my word.”

“i trust you.” her eyes soften and she feels a sense of warmth wash over her at his promises. there has never been a man so thoughtful towards her, and yet, niki’s words ring in her head.

she walks through the halls with toby as he shows off his art collections that hang on the wall. the boy has an affinity for art, she finds out. at some point, they come across tommy playing the piano rather beautifully in the parlor, and niki disbands from the tour to go listen to tommy’s playing. eventually, they find themselves at the library. it is a tall room in the middle of the manor, with books lining every corner of the room. some old, some new, and others clearly loved. at one end, a window covers the entire wall, looking out onto the gardens.

“wilbur's collection.” toby says with a smile, “he has been collecting since …” he trails off, “since he was a boy.”

“it’s beautiful.” she murmurs. it’s true. in the spaces were there are not books, there are beautiful paintings, depicting nature at it’s finest. landscapes with flowers, oceans with boats floating atop them, and in the middle, the centerpiece, a garden filled with an assortment of gorgeous flowers.

her eyes wander around the room. his collection rivals her own back at the estate, and she's surprised that someone would have more books than her.

“this must have cost a fortune.” her hands run across some of the books nearest to the door. these are the ones that look as though they were brought recently, and she notices a copy of a book she owns on the shelf.

“wilbur has a way with words,” toby laughs, “half of these, actually, most likely more, were bartered or traded.”

she hums. “i will agree. though, not positively.” she smiles, “your brother shared some… choice words towards me regarding dancing last night.”

“did he say something of offense?” toby frowns, “my apologies. my brother is, well, not the best, i shall say, at using his words properly, despite his affinity for writing. i am sure he did not mean it.”

she doesn't want to hurt this poor boy's opinion of his brother, and so she keeps her mouth shut. “i will take your word for it, toby.” she pulls out a book, caressing the pages carefully in her hands. the smell of an old book hit her nose and she felt at home.

“if you would like, i can leave you here until dinner. i am sure wilbur will not mind. he never really comes out from the study any way, so you will be completely undisturbed.”

twice now, the boys have mentioned wilbur's frequent absence.

she ponders it for a moment, before smiling and nodding. “that would be wonderful. thank you for your hospitality, toby.”

“it is my pleasure, miss.” he gives her a bow, and shuts the door softly, leaving her to explore the room on her own.

she immediately heads towards the couch situated by the window. there are books stacked upon the floor and on a nearby table, and she steps around them carefully as to not disturb them.

a book at the top of a stack by the couch peaks her attention. it's worn and has obvious signs of wear, but that only warms her heart as it means the book has been loved. she grabs it, immediately becoming immersed.

she doesn't notice when the door opens, and watching her curiously from the doorway is wilbur himself.

leaning against the doorframe, he clears his throat. “and may i ask what you are doing in my personal library?” he looks a lot more relaxed than he did at the ball last night and she cannot tell if it is his attire or the fact that he is simply in his own home. he's dressed casually, with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt untucked. his hair is slightly messy, and he's got a pair of round glasses on. she thinks he looks quite handsome.

“oh, mr. soot.” she closes the book carefully, setting it to the side, “my apologies. i did not mean to intrude. lord quackity invited my cousin and i over for dinner but he had some work and so toby showed me around the manor and told me i could stay if i wanted. if you would like me to go though, i will.” she stands, smoothing out her dress, but he shakes his head.

“no, it is quite alright. you may stay.” he leans off the wall and shuts the door carefully behind him. “it was simply unexpected. that's all. i am not used to having visitors who are interested in my library.” as he approaches her, he notices the book. “you have a fondness for poetry?” something in his chest flutters.

“i do.” she smiles, “i do not write myself - no, i could not use such eloquent words, but i cannot help but enjoy them.”

“one of my favorites too.” he murmurs, bending down to grab the book she was reading off of the couch.

“i could tell. it is well-loved. you ought to buy yourself a new copy, mr. soot.” she laughs lightly, “the words are fading.”

“do not tell me what to do with my own possessions. you have no right.” his head snaps up, “i have changed my mind. take your leave.” his voice is rigid and there's a palpable anger behind his words.

“i- my apologies, mr, i-”

“out. i am not asking.” he orders, pointing a finger towards the door.

“i am sorry.” she mutters once more, before practically flying out of the room. the door shuts with a thud and he closes his eyes, biting his lip as hard as he can - he thinks he tastes blood.

he sinks to the floor with the poetry book gripped tight in his left hand. with a small sniffle, he turns the book to the side, running his finger along the barely visible ‘p’ engraved on the spine. it was so small and so worn out that one wouldn't notice it unless they knew it was there. he blinks away the tears and swallows down the regret, opening the book as his fingers trail along the first stanzas of the first poem. he isn't reading - he knows this book better than he knows himself. better yet, this book is an extension of himself. he couldn’t ever bring himself to replace it for it would be as if he were replacing his own self.

wilbur is late to dinner and the evident shock on both tommy, quackity and toby’s face tells her enough. he spares no one a glance, not even his own brothers, and seems ticked off that the conversation at the table dwindled.

she catches the side glances that tommy and toby throw each other, and she turns her body towards niki, who is seated right beside her.

“he looks miserable.” she remarks quietly, shoving the peas to the side. she was not a fan of peas, nor wilbur, but it seemed tonight she would have to tolerate both.

“he always looks like that.” niki replies back smoothly, “in the past four and twenty hours we have known him, i do not think i have ever seen a different expression on his face.” she lets out a little giggle, turning her attention back to the conversation that was at hand. currently, thomas was enthralling quackity with a story of this young woman he had danced with last night.

“she was absolutely stunning.” he sighs, “and yet, i am afraid i do not know how to capture her affections.” “what is her name?” quackity takes a sip of his wine, cocking his head. “i would like to put a name to the woman you have not quit babbling about.” “molly.” even saying the name causes the blonde’s face to erupt in a smile, and she cocks her head. “molly?” she hums, “i have a friend named molly about your age. say, i think your beloved molly might also be mine.” “really?” his eyes sparkle, “you are friends with molly?” he gives her a quick description of the girl, and upon confirmation that they indeed share the same molly, he leans in to the table. “do you know what she likes? what can i do to get her to gain her admiration? what do you recommend to gain one’s affections?”

“dancing.” her eyes flit quickly to wilbur who lets out an unamused snort. she was not going to remark, but his reaction irked her. “even if one’s partner is a discourteous soul.”

“and what if one’s partner is just barely tolerable?” wilbur places his fork down, giving her a nasty look.

“well then,” she clears her throat, “everyone has their own interpretation of ‘barely tolerable’ and mine is sitting in front of me.”

quackity clears his throat, the tension between the two of them becoming suffocating. “well,” he smiles, “maybe you should call upon molly tomorrow. invite her to dinner. and you of course,” he turns to her, “are welcome to come tomorrow as well, since you are acquainted with molly. oh and your cousin as well!”

“i appreciate the invite, my lord,” she wipes off her face with a small napkin that was provided, “but it seems as if i am an unwanted guest. i would absolutely hate to intrude on the soot’s home for yet another day, especially considering the animosity i have been shown by the eldest.” she smiles sweetly towards wilbur, who feels his chest constrict. “i would be delighted to have dinner again with you though, and so i am instead offering to return to the favor and host you, molly, thomas and toby at my home tomorrow.”

the fact that she purposefully left him out causes wilbur to slam his fork down in anger. the plate rattled, and he nearly tips over his wine glass. “you are in my home, and i will not stand for your intolerance. i do not care if you are a guest under quackity - you will respect me.” his voice is low and he is looking at her with a look his brother’s haven't seen since they spoke to their father's estate attorney.

she scoffs, “i refuse to show respect to someone who has treated me with such contempt. i have been nothing but courteous to you, and yet you still find it in yourself to be ill-mannered. bless quackity’s soul because honestly, i am shocked you even have friends.”

“you are undermining me in my own home, and i do not appreciate it.” he hisses, “you become upset at my rejection, intrude upon my own personal library, and then proceed to invite every person i hold dear to me and exclude me.”

“i undermine you?” she laughs dryly, her eyes squinting at him, “you are delusional. you are the one who sits here and belittles everything i say, even if not directed towards you. though,” she stands, smoothing down her dress, “i suppose it is to make up for your lack of charm. lord quackity,” she bows, “i really do appreciate your hospitality. same for you two,” she gives a soft smile to the boys, “but unfortunately, i am incredibly uncomfortable. niki and i will be leaving now. thank you though, and my offer still stands.” niki scrambles to bow to them, and they both leave. she wastes not another glance at wilbur, her chest full and clenched with anger.

“i have plenty of charm, i just do not wish to waste it on a woman as average as you.” he shouts after her. as her footsteps recede, he shoves his own chair into the table, causing it to shake, and he retreats to his office, his fists clenched at his side.

the manor door closes noisily, and in the aftermath of their altercation everyone remaining at the table heard the slam of his study door and the simultaneous rumbling of her carriage pulling away out of the roadway.

“i have lost my appetite.” tommy mumbles, “please excuse me.” tommy quietly tucks in his chair and leaves the room.

“as have i.” toby follows, leaving quackity alone in the dining room by himself.

there's a silence that follows, one that quackity does not like. quackity does not like silence to begin with, but this one is heavier and was caused by him. he leaves the dinner table, choosing instead to retire to his room for the night. in all his years of friendship, he has never seen wilbur so upset with a person, and he would hate to continue distressing his friend. on the other hand, there was a look in wilbur’s eyes that he could not place. it wasn’t hatred or disdain, and it bewildered the hell out of quackity. he saw the same look in her eyes too.

last night at the ball, she wasn’t walking over to talk to him. no, of course she wasn’t. his friend was spacing out and staring off into the distance, and when he followed his eyes, they were fixated on her. she was looking back at him with the same intensity, and then, both of their attentions were grabbed and pulled away. quackity noticed, how despite the many girls approaching wilbur his eyes kept wandering to that shadow, silently pleading for her attention. twenty minutes later, she was gone from the wall, and another two after that she was apologizing for bumping into him.

quackity had known from the very start that she was not into him and that her affections lay with wilbur. everything he had done was calculated from the minute he had asked her to dance. positioning her in wilbur’s line of sight so they could see each other while they danced, asking her to come over for dinner, and even toby’s manor tour. he’d specifically instructed toby to take her to the library and leave her there, as he knew midday was when wilbur decided to leave his office for once and head to the library.

he had everything planned out perfectly. what he hadn’t counted on though was wilbur’s stupidity.

upon being seated in his office chair, wilbur picked up a quill, shuffling through the stacks of paper as he searched for a blank one. there, he scrawled a journal entry. phil had suggested a journal back when wilbur was a teen though the book phil gave him as a starter had long since been filled.

nowadays, his journal entries were far and few between, scribbled upon waste paper scrambled on his messy desk and then shoved into the bottom drawer, never to be read again.

his quill moved faster than the words could process in his brain. halfway through his long-winded rant, his eyes had grown droopy and tired and he abandoned the page as he stumbled his way up to the bed.

when he awakes in the morning, he is surprised. it’s rare for him to wake up in his own bed for he’s moved into the master bedroom and everything is just a reminder of his father. most nights are spent pouring over documents and estate affairs, or slumped in the office chair until he hears tommy and toby chasing each other around the halls. he decides to savor it, before he must get up and bear the responsibility of his world on his shoulders.

it’s then, when wilbur is enjoying the feel of his mattress and not of his hard wooden chair, that the letter gets sent. quackity hadn’t planned to find his note, truly. he had gone into the office to wake wilbur up as he had done everytime he has stayed with him, and when he opened the door, there was no wilbur.

he was gone and so quackity walked over to the desk, his eyes squinting at a note written on yellowing and half-ripped paper. it clearly wasn’t meant to be read but after a quick read, quackity shoved it in his pocket anyways and exited the room, sealing it with the soot family crest and sending it off with the rest of the post for the morning.

she receives the letter mid-day during her afternoon tea with niki. the two of them hadn’t spoken about the quarrel between her and wilbur, and she was grateful for it. niki instead spoke about her suitors, providing her a nice distraction from the anger that bubbled in her chest.

“a letter for the miss.” it’s placed on the table next to her, and she picks it up gingerly.

“if it could even be called that.” she mumbles, “the paper is eons old.” she recognizes the crest immediately, as it had been adorned around the manor she had spent time at yesterday.

“what is it?” niki peers curiously, but she holds it away, hoping that quackity had just used their stationary. “hey!” “give me a moment, i am reading.”

i am writing in a state of great frustration and vexation. her recent behavior has been most unbecoming, and i cannot help but feel incensed by her actions. how could she be so rash... so - so thoughtless in her choice of words? i suppose she has every reason to.

and yet, despite this encompassing anger, there is a sense of admiration. i cannot tell if it is admiration for her audacity, or admiration for the lady herself. her fiery spirit and unyielding determination are truly remarkable, and i cannot help but be drawn to such a force of nature, as much as i would like to deny it.

perhaps it is my own stubbornness that blinds me to the true nature of my feelings, but it is becoming harder and harder for me to fight the notion that there is an underlying sense of attraction that persists. there is just some thing about the way that she carries herself. despite almost every interaction we have had being negative, i have left each one with a tightening feeling in my chest.

i believe it is regret. the other night i could not sleep, how could i? ive treated her with such disdain.

yet i cannot stop thinking of tonight. it was the way she simply just disrespected me in my own home, without a care in the world, and looked so utterly ethereal doing it.

she insulted me and she did it with grace and a bewitching voice. there is just something about that girl that i cannot forget and i -

it cuts off there, the quill mark running off the page indicating that his hand had slipped, abruptly ending his train of thought. without another word, she folds the letter, holding it neatly in her hand as she walks out of the manor, ignoring niki’s protests.

the soot manor was across town about thirty minutes walking. she had left without a coat and there was a spring chill outside, but she pursued on, her anger keeping her from the cold. she is sure she accidentally shoved a couple of people and almost got hit by a carriage but she arrived at the soot manor nevertheless.

she made the walk in five and ten minutes, cutting the travel time in half. her feet ached and she was parched. she briefly reconsidered, but shook it off as her knuckles rapped upon the door loudly. a butler opened and after a quick explanation of her business, she made her way to wilbur’s office. she slammed open the door and he was not there. she was going to talk to him one way or another, and she wandered her way around the manor, looking around for him with such a passion that none of the maids questioned it. it was only when she’d decided she was going to ask the butler where he might be that she bumped into him. he had clearly just woken up and had haphazardly dressed himself. his hair was messy and he looked sleepy, but she did not care.

“what is your issue?” she hisses, stepping towards him. “have i done something to offend you? am i just that awful of a person that you deem it necessary to toy with me? i do not know why you think it is so amusing!” “what- what are you talking about?” he sighs, “and why is my office door open? was this you?” she ignores the question, instead unfolding the paper from it’s crumpled home in her pocket. “perhaps it is my own stubbornness that blinds me to the true nature of my feelings, but it is becoming harder and harder for me to fight the notion that there is an underlying sense of attraction that persists.” she reads, her voice wavering not once.

his heart stops. it stops beating completely and wilbur is pretty sure that this is what death feels like. “how did you get that?” his lip wavers, despite the rigid tone. a hand runs through his hair and his hands shake slightly. she notices, but she cannot fathom him actually feeling what he wrote.

“oh so now you are playing games with me?” she scoffs, “seriously! my god, you have got to be the most irksome person on the whole planet!”

“is that why my office was open?” his eyes squint, and he looks terrified for a moment at his next thought. “did you go through my things? you have the audacity to come into my home, search my private belongings and then accuse me of toying with your emotions. you are neurotic.” “of course i did not go through your things, i am a much better person than you think i am. you sent this to me, did you not?” she shoves it in his face and she’s right. he chooses to ignore how the letter got to her, and takes a deep breath as he steadies himself. “i am just wondering. why? why me? why did you choose to amuse yourself by picking on me?”

“it was not my intention.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i might as well be honest.” “the first good thing you have done ever.” she scoffs, and he bites his lip. he decides looking anywhere but her face would be a better choice at this time, so he settles his eyes on her collarbone.

“i was a fool. i will admit my faults, and there are many. believe me when i say this, i have never been more enchanted to meet a person. i blundered, i am aware, and i am so very apologetic for it. my jealousy overcame me at the sight of you dancing with quackity, and i - am sorry for everything i have done or said to you to harm you in any way. please, this is no scheme or ploy as you may think, i am genuinely and utterly enamoured with you.” his chest is heaving, and she can see his hands shaking by his side. “please, i know this is sudden, but if you would just tell me how i could make amends for my behavior, i will do it in a heartbeat.”

“you are a madman.” she whispers, cutting him off. “you are stupider than i thought you were if you think that for one second i am going to believe any display of affection from you. you have done nothing but make me feel as though i am worthless, and for that, you are the last man on earth i would ever marry. you are arrogant, disrespectful, and most of all, you have no empathy for the feelings of others. i would rather bring shame upon my family before i accept any semblance of a proposal from you.”

it’s silent between them. he’s finally made eye contact - and she is also breathing heavily. her lips are parted, and so are his, and he is fighting the urge to lean in right there. the moment is ruined when she crumples the note in her hand and places it on his chest. he comes up to grab her hand, holding it close to his chest as he grabs the paper. his hands are warm, and they fit perfectly around hers. they know the other knows.

she yanks her hand from his chest, “if you are so enamoured with me as you say you are, you will leave me alone. you have done enough.”

part of him wonders her reaction if he chases after her and pleads, but it is far too late for that. she wonders if she is making the wrong decision.

it’s silent after that. his ears are ringing and his chest is hot and burning in the spot where her hand just was. he feels his heart sink to his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in years. it’s not disappointment and it’s not regret - it’s a yearning and a longing for something he won’t ever have.

he needs to talk to his father. it’s not a want, but a need. his father would know what to do. he always did. within fourty minutes of her departure, the boys and quackity have packed up, abandoning the manor as quickly as they came.

the boys were quite prepared as they knew their brother so well. it was not the first nor the last time that their brother would relocate them in hopes of escaping whatever it is he seems to be running from. they had not even unpacked their bags, simply shoving the necessities back in and looking solemnly as wilbur took his own horse, not even riding with them, they gave each other a knowing look. they rode back with quackity, and the silence was deafening.

wilbur arrives far earlier than the carriages do and without another word, he hands off the horse to a housemaid and stalks toward the forest. he does not care that he has not eaten today or that it looks like it is going to rain; he needs to talk his father.

when wilbur was thirteen, he and his father explored the woods behind their house together in an attempt to soothe wilbur's fear of the woods. for as long as he could remember, wilbur always had a fear of the unknown, and the sprawling landscape behind their house certainly did not help.

wilbur entered the woods hand in hand with phil. phil was explaining the different trees and flowers they saw, right until they stumbled across a small clearing, barely big enough for an outdoor lunch. it was right off the beaten path and was only a five minute walk from the forest entrance.

he remembers being excited that this was the only spot not covered with grass - as there were only magnolia flowers in there. a small little circle sprawling with flowers. his father said that it was beautiful that in the woods wilbur had found so scary there was a small, serene place with beautiful flowers.

“if you had not come in here with me, neither of us would have stumbled upon this.” phil had smiled down at him that day, “it is to teach you that there is always some beauty in the terrifying unknown.”

wilbur laughed and called it cliche and predictable, but now as he sits in front of phil's grave in the middle of these magnolia flowers, he knows his father lied. there has been no beauty in anything since his father died, and everything to him has been unknown. wilbur’s been living in fear.

upon entering the tiny field, there was one stone carving in the middle. wilbur sat right next to it, pulled his knees to his chest, and despite the neck pain that was growing, he placed his head on the stone.

“hello, father.” he sniffles, “i am sorry i was gone for so long. we went up into the town for the spring season. it was all quackity’s idea of course, and the boys were excited so i had to. i have done nothing but disappoint them and i hoped i would regain their favor back by bringing them.” he sighs, his breath shaking. “i met a girl there. she is intelligent and gorgeous and kind. i know, i know, i always told you i would never marry and i would travel the world alone and explore. since you- since you left, i have had to reconsider. i cannot leave the boys and so- so, i thought it would be a good idea to socialize and get myself out there.” his voice cracks, and wilbur removes his head from the stone placing it in his knees as he cries. “the first time i met her she was standing on the wall and she looked so, so beautiful, but of course-” he lets out a hiccuping sob, “she was not interested in me. who would be?” he laughs dryly, “i was… upset, and i said some thing that i did not mean and my pride would not allow me to apologize. the next time i saw her, she had your book in her hands. your favorite. sometimes i wonder why we did not bury you with it. i saw her and i got upset and i insulted her and at dinner i did it again. i confessed to her and she rejected me, and god, it is the worst emotion i have felt since you died. i feel sick and it hurts and i just,” he whimpers, “i just wish you were here.”

there’s silence. of course there is. he is talking to a stone.

“i really, really messed it up, and i wish i could take it all back because she is absolutely wonderful.” he sighs, “of course, it is much too late for that.” still, silence. “i must get going, there is much to do.” he stands up and sighs, wiping the tears from his eyes quickly. “i will come to visit you again soon.”

true to his word, wilbur visits his father everyday for the next week. some days he talks to him and tells him how toby and tommy are doing, others he sits there and cries, and few times he has brought paper out to write.

there are hundreds of speeches he has written out and almost sent to her, expressing himself, and all of them have ended up crushed and thrown into the trash. she asked him to leave her alone, and as much as it is killing him, he would rather die lonely than face any sort of argument with her again.

he decides he needs a weekend away, so after packing his bags and leaving the boys in the care of quackity, he sets off to a small cabin his father owned in the woods not too far from the estate. far enough that he'll be left alone, but close enough that if needed, he can return within a day.

tommy, yearning for molly, sends a letter the week before wilbur leaves. it asks her to come over, and molly would have agreed almost immediately if not for the fact that she needs a chaperone.

she refuses, immediately. “no, molly, my answer is final. i refuse to visit the soot’s. please, forgive me.”

“please, friend.” she pleads, “no one else is available and tom said that wilbur would be going on vacation! you would not even have to deal with him, please.”

“you are sure wilbur will not be there?” she raises a brow, still leaning towards no.

“i swear. look.” she holds out tom’s letter, pointing out where he mentions wilbur’s absence.

molly’s eyes brim with hope as she reconsiders. “fine. i will go with you, but just for the weekend.”

they arrive friday evening, when the sun has set and dinner has been served. wilbur had just left that morning according to the boys, so she will be free of him and his incessant behavior.

some small part of her ached though, for their constant bickering. the look in his eyes when he'd told her he loved her has haunted her, and she's beginning to wonder if she had made the wrong decision. he was wealthy, sure, but one could tell he cared for his brothers. he was intelligent and he had an affinity for the arts, and was well-spoken. does any of that really outweigh his behavior? she wonders.

it was as if her thinking about wilbur summoned him.

“oh. hello.” his voice sounds strained and she turns around to find wilbur standing there, his fists clenched at his side. “i was unaware you would be here.”

“i did not mean to intrude. tommy and toby told me that you were gone for the weekend. i will make haste and leave as soon as i can.” she stands up, dusting off her dress. “my apologies, mr. soot.”

“wilbur.” he clears his throat, “please. just call me wilbur. you do not have to leave, either. i was going to the forest for a walk before i retreat to my office. i will be out of your way, as per your wish.” he takes a small bow, refusing to meet her eyes. “pleasure … it's a pleasure to see you again.” he stutters, and then turns away quickly.

“mr. soo- wilbur.” she reaches out to tap his shoulder, “may i walk with you?”

he looks nervous, and his eyes flit around. “sure…. i was going to.. visit my father. i am,” he gulps, taking a deep breath, “i am sure he would love to meet you.”

“oh.” she smiles softly, “i have not seen him around, though, i have only been here for a day.”

“i have told him much about you.” his voice is soft, as the two of them begin a walk to the forest. they are so close in proximity that their hands keep brushing together, and everytime they do, she watches his breathing seize.

she thinks she has killed him when she grabs her hand and he stumbles over his own footing. “we should - you should not be holding my hand, you are.. you are eligible and i- i am not courting you and-”

“do you want me to stop?” she asks softly. in response, his hand squeezes hers softly as if to say, ‘please don't let go.’

they walk in a comfortable silence for another couple of minutes, hand in hand, before reaching the small magnolia field.

“here we are.” he clears his throat, letting go of her hand. “my .. my father. i know, it is embarrassing that i speak to a gravestone, but .. i have no one else to confide in.” he looks for any worry or fear in her face, and he finds nothing. nothing but compassion and kindness.

“i do not think it is silly.” she smiles softly, “i think it is perfectly alright. that is your father, after all.” she crouches down next to the stone, brushing her fingers over his name. “phil. it is very nice to meet you, mr. phil. there is no doubt in my mind that you were an excellent man.”

“you are going to dirty your dress.” wilbur frowns, “you do not have to sit.” his heart is pounding a million miles a minute, and he thinks it could not be any louder. he is sure she can hear it.

“nonsense.” she smiles, waving him off. “it would be rude of me to stand and speak to him.”

watching her speak to his father’s gravestone with such compassion makes him tear up. he knew that he loved her for a reason, and the fact that she started speaking to his father with no questions asked simply hammered it home for him.

“i am only here for a day or two more,” wilbur is thrown out of his thoughts by her voice, “but i must say your estate is lovely. i do not even think my home rivals this.” she laughs, and the sound flutters in his stomach, “it is gorgeous.”

there is silence for a moment as she looks up at wilbur. he's standing over her with his fists clenched and in near tears and she just shakes her head. “you should be very proud of wilbur.” she says loud enough for wilbur to hear, and makes eye contact with him, “he is doing a wonderful job raising tommy and toby. you raised him well.”

wilbur turns his back from her, but she can see the shaking of his shoulders and hear a small sob that escapes from his throat. “my apologies, please, excuse me.” he sniffles, “i am a little overwhelmed.”

it hits her now. wilbur has every reason to be as cynical and as rude as he is - life has not been well to him. he has grown up without a mother, and halfway through his life his father passed, leaving him the tough responsibility of managing an estate and two young boys.

“he is a wonderful man.” she projects her voice so she can still hear him, “and i have been entirely nonsensical about him.”

“pardon?” his voice cracks, making him cringe, but she still looks at him with that same soft expression. he is glad she cannot see his face right now, for all she would see is his despair.

“i was wrong about you.” she stands, placing a hand on his shoulder. his back is still turned to her, and she respects his space, staying out of sight. “i was entirely wrong.”

he closes his eyes and prays - prays that this means what he thinks it does. “three words from you will silence me forever.” he whispers brokenly, “if you are not going to say it and mean it, please, just say it once so that i may replay it in my head for when you are gone.”

“i cannot.” his shoulders fall and his stomach sinks. she slides her hand down his arm to reach his hand, and squeezes. “i refuse to be the first time i declare my affections for you to be said to your back.”

he whips around almost immediately, and standing on her tiptoes, she cups her face with both of his hand. her thumbs wipe the tears from underneath his eyes.

“hello, handsome.” she smiles and his head leans into her hand as he laughs. “your smile suits you. i wish i could see it more often.”

he tries to duck his face away where she cannot see but she keeps it sturdy in her hands. “do not shy away from me, i want to see your face. there you are.” she smiles, “i apologize for my misunderstanding of your character. i said some harsh things that i am realizing now that i did not mean, and i am hoping you could forgive me. i am pleading.”

“you do not have to apologize. ever. it is my fault for being immature. my answer remains the same as it did a few weeks ago - if you will have me, then i will be yours. no-now, and forever.” she lets go of his face and he blinks at her, his face swelling with joy.

“it is a deal, then.” she laughs, “forever is a long time though.”

“it will not nearly be enough time for me to spend with you. there will never be enough time.” he lifts her chin up to look at her. “god, you were plucked out of my dreams and put into my arms. i am the luckiest man on earth.”

she swats his arm gently, “you are magnificent with your words when they are not shooting to kill.” she says lightly. her cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling, but she does not care.

“my words will be soft and sweet for you, always.” he tucks a piece of hair behind her ears, “from this point on.”

“i was just about to mention how they have not been in the past.”

“and for that, i will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” he kisses her hand, and keeps eye contact the entire time. “every minute of every day. i love you.”

there it was.

“i love you,” he kisses her knuckles, “i love you,” he kisses her palm, “i love you,” up her arm, “i love you,” on her left cheek, “i love you,” right cheek, “i love you,” nose, “i love you.”

and finally, his hands coming up to cradle her head, he presses a promising kiss to her lips. “i love you. forever.”

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