I keep playing the night on repeat in my mind. New Years was significantly better than I had imagined it would be and no where near as boring, at least until after Cedric surprised me with his arrival. The diamond quaver that was a late christmas gift is beautiful and gives me something beautiful to look at contrasting with the horrors I see with my reflection. I can already hear the stern comment not to think like that, I can see his lips turning into a frown. I don’t believe he’s ever seen it, though, the fact I’m a corpse in a mirror.
Some days are better than others, but all in all… the entire factor of it is just unpleasant.
Folklore has it that the first person you encounter at midnight on New Years sets the tone of how your year is going to go, and if it’s true, my year is bound to be interesting to say the least. Lustful, I believe, is the best way to describe it. But, it’s welcome. We almost slipped in Allure and I can’t say that I’m in the least bit ashamed on how things went. Every bite, every kiss - it brought us to a conversation I doubted we’d ever have. Limits, where we wanted to go, what steps were we comfortable taking.
Physically, it was damn obvious with how we were at the club.
And back in the apartment...
I was surprised when he said that even if he didn’t have the curse, he would want to sleep with me. That he thought he would easily sleep only with me. He hides his feelings so often that I wonder what all was going on in his head. That spark of anger, of frustration, however, startled me some. He’s always so calm, so sure of himself. It’s a confidence that I admire in him, and while I carry myself well enough, it’s not difficult for me to allow my temper to get the best of me sometimes.
There would be a lie on my lips if I were to say that I didn’t care that he slept with other women. He knows it, I know it. I admitted to it, too, and if it weren’t for his curse, I don’t think I would be able to stand it. I don’t know why it bothers me, why I get jealous. He fucks them, he kills them - and if he doesn’t, a monster created from his seed will. It’s illogical, this feeling. Then again, I suppose the entire concept itself is illogical anyway. I still feel that this curse is partly my fault, and because of it, as long as he ends up in our bed at the end of the night, clean and showered, with his arms around me, I don’t think I’ll stay mad at him.
I’ve wondered if it's insecurity, but I have nothing to be insecure of. We aren’t a couple, friends with benefits would be the correct term, wouldn’t it? And yet, even then… I feel it's too simple of a concept.
The words I spoke to him that night still remain true to this day, that I would be something new to him. A friend, a familiar face. Deep down, I wonder if I knew I’d never be able to kill this man, this handsome man with his cold, lovely blue eyes. His haunted soul with a mysterious past. There’s a darkness in Cedric that I can see, but I wonder if he knows there’s a light, as well. I see it every now and then, a softness in his features when we’re alone in public.
I don’t know what will become of this.
We need to talk about it, he and I, but any time I find myself laying beside him, I can’t bring myself to say the words, to ask such a simple question, what are we? Instead of asking the question, I find myself looking at little details on his slightly tanned face. A freckle here, a wrinkle when he smiles. His eyes are what fascinate me the most, the beauty of them.
Why is it so hard to ask such simple three words?
Castalia P. - 1/3/17
