welcome

[Stasia Muxtrof]

October 31
11 pm
Stasia's corner of the Cauldron

Most boring. Halloween. Ever. No one had planned any parties, the Cauldron was rather empty. So many people were paranoid about these two evil dudes running around and most had taken to even staying in after dark. Not Stasia, of course. She was fearless and while she wasn’t staying out till the wee hours of the morning she wasn’t scared to go out after seven. Particularly on this evening. She was walking home, her arms crossed and a small clutch in one hand. The children and their parents had gone home already, it was late, but the teenage hoodlums were out in packs, tossing pumpkins and singing vulgar songs of varying degrees of creep.

Stasia walked down the street in a short black cocktail dress, orange chiffon peaking out from beneath the dress. Being at home was driving her crazy and she’d gone to a club with a couple PlayWizard girls. As usual, she hadn’t gone looking for anything but ended up home with a seriously good looking blonde. He was okay. A little disappointing and when he turned to pull her close she got up suddenly, his face not hiding his surprise. She’d thanked him for the piss-poor performance and left. And now here she was.

Pretty soon the dirty windows of the old shop that hid the cauldron came into view and she was relieved. Her stilettos were quite uncomfortable if she wore them for more than a few minutes at a time and she’d been in them all night. As she stepped inside she took off her shoes. The pub was empty and a very groggy Tom leaned on the bar, head bobbing as he drifted in and out of sleep. Stasia moved over to the man she’d slowly developed a friend ship and nudged him, “Go to bed Tom. No one’s coming out.” He grumbled something about dragonberry pie and raspberry tea before turning and practically sleep walking to the back room he called home.

She headed upstairs and took off the dress, tossing it on her dresser along with her padded bra and slipping into bed in her black panties. In moments she was asleep, dreaming about her Mother. She never dreamed about her Mother but this was quite a wonderful dream. They were dancing together again and Stasia was only 8, her technique terrible but her Mother’s praise never ending. When she stumbled her mother knelt, speaking kind words in Russian to her special little girl and showing her the correct way to do things. But the dream took a sour turn. Stasia stumbled again, a heavy weight on her chest, and when her Mother corrected her the words she spoke were unfamiliar. They sounded like the strange language that the men who owned the theater would speak. They sounded French. And then her voice distorted, taking a lower and strangely familiar tone.

It was then that a hand on her face jolted her awake. Oh fuck she was being raped! Her initial reaction was to scream and yell for help but as she became more and more conscious of her surroundings she realized that the voice was Angevin’s and he wasn’t okay. He sounded like he was…was he crying?! Stasia sat up and realized he was on top of her. How had he gotten here?! The bed took up most of the room and she assumed that if he’d apparated here he would have landed on it. She reached over and turned on the light but couldn’t recognize the bloody mass in front of her. “Oh my God.” Her voice was small and she couldn’t hide the fear behind it. She moved quickly, grabbing a clean shirt from her dresser and trying desperately to find where he was bleeding from, “Angevin calm down. Ange, speak English. Love, I can’t understand you. Be still, I’ve got to-- Aha!” She found the cut, a deep wound on his cheek, and as she pressed the shirt against it she examined the rest of him. He wasn’t in good shape. Broken arm, it looked like. Busted lip. Surely there was spell damage somewhere from the looks of the blue and green veins climbing up his neck. She kissed his forehead and pushed her hand through his hair, “Angevin, it’ll be okay. I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I promise. We’ll get you to St. Mungo’s just as soon as you calm down.” She smirked at him, pushing the lump in her throat down, “I told you so.”

[Angevin Beauvoir]

“Come out, come out, wherever yeh are…”

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit shit shit.

“Cm’on, Frenchie. Be a man. No cousin to save ya now, is there, yeh lil’ shit?!”

A bone chilling cackle echoed around the stone corridor outside the broom closet Angevin was hiding in. At the noise, he cringed and whimpered. Not again. Not again! Spell damage crept up his right leg and kept going all the way up his back making his spine burn. His left ankle was sprained. He lip was busted. His eye was black. He was in bad shape. Not to mention all the slaps, punches, and verbal abuse he’d already been subjected to. Shaking to the core with abject terror, Angevin hiccupped through suppressed sobs. If Liam found him again, he was dead. Plain and simply dead.

“Come on, Kid. Ah haven’t got all night, yeh know. Ah’ve still got to go find yer cousin, push ‘er down onto the floor, hold her there, rip off ‘er skirt, and fuck ‘er till she screams me name. She loves it. She begs for it. Yer cousin’s fucking a psycho and lovin’ every minute of it, Boyo. Ah think what she likes best though is gagging on my c-…”

“No! …oh, merde.” Angevin couldn’t take it anymore, but he hadn’t meant to yell that aloud. The footsteps came fast and the door flung open, and there stood Liam. “Please! No! Don’t kill me. I won’t tell her anything! I won’t! Please!”

“Too late for bargains, ya sniffling pussy. Cm’ere!” Liam reached into the broom closet and yanked Angevin out by his arm, which made a sickening crack that meant only one thing. The kid flailed and howled in pain, madly and accidentally kicking Liam in the stomach. “Oof! …oh…you little bastard. Now you’re really gonna get it.” The cutting spell sliced across Angevin’s cheek as he hit the stone floor from where Liam shoved him away. The thought that flashed through his mind was ‘let me die anyways but here if I must die’. And then he was gone.

When he appeared back in real time and space, Angevin realized he must had apparated, but where to. His arm hurt. His cheek hurt. His whole body screamed with pain, and fuck it, who cared where he was? All that mattered at that moment was… “Mère, mère, maman. Sauf moi, maman. Il blesse. Faites-lui l'arrêt. Je veux ma mère! Tante Anne! Owww, mère! Ow! Pas, je ne boirai pas hors du carton de lait ou ne volerai pas des biscuits ou n'embrasserai pas d'autres filles d'hommes. Faites-svp lui l'arrêt. Il a essayé de me tuer. Je ne veux pas mourir. Pas ici. Pas n'importe où. Maman! Maman, aide! Maman!” He screamed and cried and sobbed and grabbed out into the darkness with his good arm, trying to find Esther or Anne or anyone. When he touched something, it slipped off into the floor, like fabric. Like a dress. Was he at his Aunt’s? Was he at the circus with his mother? “Maman?” He fought the pain, yelling and cringing and letting the tears and the blood drip off his chin. What had he been thinking!? Stasia was right. He’d nearly got himself killed! “Maman! Oui? Non? Maman! Papa! Bastian!” Whoever it was that he’d intruded upon woke up to that being screamed in their ear and, much to his shock, it was a voice he’d only heard that very morning. “Stasia? Est-ce que c'est vous? Ah, mon petit danseur! Vous aviez raison. Vous aviez si raison. Il m'a tué. Je suis mort. Mort! Vous aviez raison. Il blesse ainsi le mauvais, Stasia. Fixez-le. Fixez-le, vous pas? Ah, fixez-le! Mon bras! Et mon visage! Et les charmes! Ils sont tous avalent mon dos. Ah, Stasia, je ferai jamais jamais ceci encore. Je suis si désolé. Je suis désolé.”

“Angevin calm down. Ange, speak English. Love, I can’t understand you. Be still, I’ve got to-- Aha!”

Angevin stopped yelling and flailing to instead hold still and shake with fear and relief. As she applied pressure to the cut on his face, he wailed piteously at the pain. “Maman.” he whimpered, shaking something awful. However, Stasia kissed his head and petted his hair, and that felt nice. “It hurts,” he sniffled. “I…I…” Then he broke down again. “I want my mother! I need my Auntie Anne. It…it hurts so bad. I’m going to die. I am! Stasia!” He tried to hug her around her middle. It didn’t even register that she was topless. That didn’t matter at a time like this. “I want my mother,” he whimpered against her skin.

“Angevin, it’ll be okay. I’m here.”

“But I want my mother. Where’s my Maman? I want my daddy!” This statement made him stiffen, and then fall apart again. “I shouldn’t have done this! Papa tried to be a hero and so did Bastian and look where it got them! You were right. You were. I’m sorry, Stasia. What was I thinking??! Stasia, don’t let me die. Please, don’t. I’ll do anything for you. Please…don’t let…” He dissolved into sniffling again and clung, with his good arm, to her middle, his good cheek against her thigh.

”I’ll take care of you. I promise. We’ll get you to St. Mungo’s just as soon as you calm down.”

He whimpered and, though he felt better, also felt worse. He could feel what she was about to say before she even said it.

“I told you so.”

He just held onto her, shaking, scared out of his mind and in pain beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. “He went crazy. Not normal crazy. But… devil crazy. He said the most awful things and didn’t even break a sweat while he tossed me around like a stuffed teddy bear. I don’t know how I got here… but I’m sorry. Sorry for showing up like this… Sorry for not… For not staying where I ought to, back at home or a club or PlayWizard. I’m not a hero. I’m not even much of a man.” He wiped his nose on his blood soaked sleeve, streaking the red across his mouth. “I’m just a stupid, stupid kid. He’s right. I don’t even know what the hell is going on. I just want my cousin back. That’s all. Evil fucking bastard. Now I’ll never save Evy. If Liam doesn’t kill me, Kallien or Evy will. What am I going to do? Stasia…I’m scared…”








Translations:
1. Mother, mother, mommy. Save me, Mama. It hurts. Make it stop. I want my mother! Aunt Anne! Owww, mother! Ow! No, I will not drink out of the milk carton or steal cookies or kiss other men girls. Please make it stop. He tried to kill me. I do not want to die. Not here. Not anywhere. Mama! Mama, help! Mama!

2. Stasia? Is that you? Oh, my little dancer! You were right. You were so right. He killed me. I am dead. Dead! You were right. It hurts so bad, Stasia. Fix it. Fix it, will you not? Oh, do fix it! My arm! And my face! And the spells! They are all down my back. Oh, Stasia, I will never ever do this again. I am so sorry. I am sorry.

[Stasia Muxtrof]

Stasia was the least maternal woman in the entire world. Muggle, magical, werewolf, vampire, Dog, Monkey, it didn’t matter what she was compared to she would always come out the least maternal. There was nothing in the world that would get her to spend more than she absolutely had to with a toddler or a baby or even a grade schooler. Kids were for people that wanted a happy future with a fenced yard and mid-sized dog. She certainly didn’t want any of that. But apparently seeing Angevin hurt and crying gathered any maternal feeling she had naturally and put them in the forefront of her mind.

He was rambling about something and she ignored it. His French almost made her smile, reminding her of when they’d met and she’d hated it. Now she realized he wouldn’t be the same Angie if he didn’t litter everything he said with a few French words. He was ridiculously proud and it drove her freaking mad. But as the severity of his situation came back to her she pushed the fun memories back, thinking of what she had in her first aid kit. She didn’t have a wand to heal anything but she did have….

“You were right. You were. I’m sorry, Stasia. What was I thinking??! Stasia, don’t let me die. Please, don’t. I’ll do anything for you. Please…don’t let…”

She forgot about potions and concentrated on coddling him, “Angevin, you’re not going to die. I won’t let you. I promise.” She petted his hair again with her free hand and whispered sweet comforting nothings in his ear.

“He went crazy. Not normal crazy. But… devil crazy. He said the most awful things and didn’t even break a sweat while he tossed me around like a stuffed teddy bear. I don’t know how I got here…”

“Forget all that, pet. He’s not here. You’re safe. You’re safe.” She kept repeating herself, hoping it would somehow break through his scared veil. While he spoke she searched for his wand, finding it still clutched in his white-knuckled hand. She took it and set it next to her. She’d be needing that. He was apologizing? “No, no no! I should be apologizing! I should have been meaner! I should have stayed with you and insisted you didn’t go. No, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you had enough sense to get out.” But the sense to apparate to a squib? Hmm. While he was distracted with talking about Liam she gripped his wand, toning him out and closing her eyes. She needed to concentrate just right for this.

With his cheek on her leg she took a deep breath and mumbled clearly, “Accio potions kit.” The place on her leg grew warm and Stasia immediately felt weaker. But it was a simple spell and she still had enough strength for at least one more. But first she had to ease some of his pain. “Angevin,” she paused, trying to slow her heart rate, “Drink this. It’ll…make you feel better.” She sighed, holding the potion to his lips just as she was realizing that her shirt was soaking through. With a quiet whisper that she was moving she slid out from underneath him and tossed the shirt into a tiny sink against the wall, the porcelain turning red. She took a washcloth and got it wet before moving back to him, lifting his head to set it on her lap again.

“Alright, I need you to stay really still.” She took another deep breath as she wiped his deep cut, blood filling in the gash as she wiped the previous blood away. “Hold my hand?” She sounded nervous and gripped the hand of his good arm tightly. She pulled the damp cloth back and as it slowly refilled with blood she whispered a healing spell. It only lasted a few seconds before her grip on his hand loosened and she struggled to catch her breath. One last swipe and she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. She’d done enough to stop the bleeding. “Are you still hurting?” She was panting, “There’s…There’s more potion here if you need it.” Stasia paused again, one hand in his hair and the other over her racing heart, “I-I-I got the bleeding to stop but you still need to get to St. Mungo’s. For your arm.”

[Angevin Beauvoir]

Safe? Safe?! How could she be so sure? He went into that castle a double agent and came out a weepy, bloody mess. Ah, but he couldn’t be angry at her. For one, he was too frightened to feel hate just yet, and, for another, he liked that she was babying him. He didn’t know she could be like this, but, since earlier today, he’d seen a change in her. Maybe that’s why he came here, to a Squib. Though, Angevin didn’t think of her as a Squib, but just as an unwilling party to magic use. Quite like himself, until recent events, that is. “Stasia,” he sighed, relaxing a little, not realizing that this came from her half-killing herself to channel his magic through her and out of his wand. Squibs couldn’t do magic unless touching a magical, preferably on the magical’s face. Plus, Squibs didn’t do this much because it drained so much of their life force that, if overdone, it could kill them.

Ange drank the potion she gave him, as requested, but he still didn’t feel like a million euros. She left him and he whined until she came back, however, when she came back only to wipe harshly at his cheek, he half wished she would’ve stayed away. “Oi! That hurt! Owww!!” He pouted, but held her hand, wincing and squirming and whining the whole time. As she used magic again, Angevin caught what was going on and frowned at her through his grimacing over his arm. “You shouldn’t do that. Stasia, don’t do that. I…I’ll be okay.” It was a half-lie. He still wasn’t sure he was alright, but…maybe. Maybe was enough to go on. She didn’t have to injure her own self just to heal him up. Silly Commie. “Am I still hurting? A bit. I mean, my arm’s only broken, and my back’s green and purple and other unnatural colors, but yeah, hell, I’ve never felt better. I could jump bloody rope now. Psh! Of course I still hurt!”

“There’s…There’s more potion here if you need it.”

He looked up at her, short of breath and short on energy. Why was she doing this much? Laying with his head in her lap, upper body between her legs, he reached up to her face with his good arm and stroked her cheek, smearing blood on her face. “Commie…”

“I-I-I got the bleeding to stop but you still need to get to St. Mungo’s. For your arm.”

Through the pain and the faintness from the blood loss and the worry of being followed, Angevin suddenly didn’t feel so awful or scared. Yeah, it hurt and it had been awful, but it was over. The pain was dying down. The shock was waning. “Stasia, you shouldn’t have done that,” he scolded softly, turning his head to kiss her stomach. This was probably the only time he’d been around her when she was topless in which he hadn’t been buried face first between her breasts. It was sort of weird to be with her and not be shagging, about to shag, or just finished with shagging…or a photoshoot. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I ended up here… You didn’t really need this, did you? Well, neither did I.” He was mortified about the way he’d been blubbering and sniffling. “You… You aren’t going to…you know…tell anyone how I…” He didn’t want to have to spell it out for her. “Are you alright?” Awkward.

[Stasia Muxtrof]

This was just another reason to hate magic, the affects it had on her. It would suck the life out of her if she wasn’t careful and as Angevin’s wand slipped from her fingers and rolled away from her she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep for a couple days. She didn’t music that often for this exact reason but now was one of those emergencies that made her really hate being a squib. If she wasn’t a squib she could be of more help. If she could just do some magic she could apparate Angevin to St. Mungo’s and get him the kind of help he really needed. Ugh, she was so useless

“Am I still hurting? A bit. I mean, my arm’s only broken, and my back’s green and purple and other unnatural colors, but yeah, hell, I’ve never felt better. I could jump bloody rope now. Psh! Of course I still hurt!”

“Ha. You’re so appreciative.” Despite her tiredness she still kept her sarcasm up. When he touched her cheek she felt the warm blood there but didn’t care. She was sitting in his blood what were a few more drops on her cheek. Stasia looked down at him. He was so pitiful. It wasn’t as easy as you might think it’d be to gage his injuries. This was the same way he’d acted several weeks ago when he’d gotten a paper cut during one of her photoshoots. Angevin was a big baby.

“Stasia, you shouldn’t have done that,”

“Well yes, there are quite a lot of ‘shouldn’t haves’ tonight, aren’t there.” Her breathing was under control but she looked at him with eyes half-lidded. She put her hand on the back of his head, pulling out his stupid pony tail, as he kissed her stomach. “I had to do something. Imagine the rumors that would start if you died on my bed! And with spell damage! Everyone would think my squib story was a ruse! We can’t have that.” Her manicured fingers ran through his dirty hair as he did that apologizing thing again.

“You didn’t really need this, did you? Well, neither did I.”

Stasia smirked, “I don’t know. Maybe this is just what I needed.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against her headboard, still playing with Angevin’s hair.

“You… You aren’t going to…you know…tell anyone how I…”

Her relaxation was short lived as she sat up and opened her eyes, smirking at him devilishly, “You mean tell everyone how you wailed and cried and begged for you Mother? No, I won’t tell. But you’ll need a good story about where you got all banged up. I’d be happy to take the credit if you’d like.” Stasia sighed, leaning back again. She was tired. He said something and took a moment for her to realize that he was actually addressing her.

“Are you alright?”

Well that was the last phrase she ever expected to hear from him. She would have expected him to go on about how she must be madly in love with him because she used magic to save his life or for him to say how ‘cute’ her efforts were. But to ask if she was alright? It took her a moment to get over the shock but she nodded, “Mmhmm. I’ll be fine. Tired for a few days, maybe.” She yawned again before picking up the shoebox she kept her potions in. Birth control, pain, spell damage, bone healing. Aha! That’s what she was looking for. Stasia slid it from it’s place and handed it to him. It was half gone already. “That’s leftover from a few weeks ago. Broken ribs and fingers and such. It’s good for another 2 months. And it should get your arm on the right track until Tom can help me get you to St. Mungo’s tomorrow morning.” She left the spell damage potion in the box. It was much too risky to give that to him without knowing what the spells he’d been hit with were. “Don’t do this again, okay. I mean, don’t go after him again. You’re always welcome to drop in but please don’t do it half-dead next time, yeah?”

[Angevin Beauvoir]

How come all he could do lately was hurt people? His mother was complaining that he never visited. His Aunt was complaining that he never helped her count the till at night anymore. His cousin was complaining that he was distant. He’d hurt Terra. He’d been ignoring Ginny and had blown off Mariska. …and now he’d hurt Stasia, too? He didn’t want to put more stock into his feelings for Stasia than any other girl, but it did bother him…or please him…or maybe hurt him somewhere inside that she’d nearly killed herself to save him; not to mention, that he’d ended up here as the safest, most comforting spot he could think of. How had his subconscious picked the Commie over his own mother? That was a question he didn’t want to answer. He’d learned his lesson about feelings and jumping the gun with Terra. No, thank you.

“You mean tell everyone how you wailed and cried and begged for you Mother?”

“Commie!”

“No, I won’t tell. But you’ll need a good story about where you got all banged up. I’d be happy to take the credit if you’d like.”

“Fine,” he muttered, sulking from his headrest upon her thigh. Though, he had to give her credit for saving him, if nothing else. Yet, who was going to save her? She looked pretty rough. Maybe they both needed a visit to St. Mungo’s. She said she was alright, but he couldn’t be too sure. As he drank the potion she’d pulled out, he’d wondered why she’d been so banged up. What had happened? He nearly let it slide, but no. Now he had to know. “Broken ribs? And fingers? What happened to you? I don’t remember any of that.”

“Don’t do this again, okay. I mean, don’t go after him again. You’re always welcome to drop in but please don’t do it half-dead next time, yeah?”

“Yes, alright,” he began, coaxing her to lie down with him so he could hold all of her and not just her middle. Why was this suddenly….romantic? Ew. They’d been odd all these 24 hours – ever since that fight. She knew too much and now he knew too much; they were closer than he’d thought they were. The feelings were a bit of a shock. Why come here and not to Terra’s? …well, besides the fact that Terra probably loathed him and was glad he was dead. Why not his mother then? …perhaps because he’d nearly forgotten her face it’d been so long since he’d seen her. “Aren’t you a bit bothered at how close you and that Angevin bloke are getting? I know it makes me a bit concerned…but then, I’m a male, aren’t I? Commitment issues, the lot of us, even when commitment isn’t involved we get jumpy… Um… So… Any idea what’s going on then? Or should I continue ignoring today?”

[Stasia Muxtrof]

Oh this was strange. It sounded terrible but Stasia had never felt so seriously and genuinely about another human being. She wasn’t comfortable with this. It was too weird. And Angevin was too girly. Did she love him? Well, yes, she loved him. But she wasn’t quite sure it was in the ‘I want to be with you forever and ever’ way. It would shatter her if something ever happened to him and it’d scared the piss out of her when she’d realized it was him in her bed and not some obscure person.

“Broken ribs? And fingers? What happened to you? I don’t remember any of that.”

She laughed lightly, “Well that’s because you weren’t around for any of it.” She pushed her hand through his hair again and shrugged, “Too busy being a hero. I’m not sure exactly what happened. I woke up at St. Mungo’s. They said I kind of just…showed up. I probably just fell down the stairs or something. Don’t really remember.” Stasia scooted, laying down with him, facing his chest. It was nice being smaller than practically every normal human being on the planet. Angevin was lean but she snuggled into him, ignoring the part of her brain reminding her he needed a good wash.

“Aren’t you a bit bothered at how close you and that Angevin bloke are getting?”

Stasia looked up at him, glad he was in a good enough mood to joke with her again, “Hm? Ah, no. Not really.” She draped her leg over his and pulled him closer gently, “I like being close.”

“I know it makes me a bit concerned…but then, I’m a male, aren’t I?”

“Jealous as ever, then?” She turned and pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat. She didn’t laugh at his attempt at humor, preferring to ignore the commitment fear confession. It’s not like it really applied to her or anything.

“Um… So… Any idea what’s going on then? Or should I continue ignoring today?”

What?! Stasia was very careful not to hurt him when she looked up, blue eyes wide and mouth open slightly. Totally not cute. “Er…what are you going on about?” She looked back down, not wanting to look at him while she spoke, “I think we both know the answer to that, Beauvoir.” She wanted this to be as impersonal as possible. “Ignore. Ignore until we can’t ignore it anymore.” With a smirk she looked back up at him, “I think we have enough baggage separately, don’t you?” Her arm snaked around his middle and she hugged him, gently as to keep from hurting him, “Besides, I like the way things are right now. Tomorrow you can go back to hating me and I’ll go back to pretending I think I’m better than you. And I’ll tease you at work and you’ll tear my clothes off when I drop by to make sure you’re still alive.”

With one last look up she shrugged, kissing his chest before speaking, “Things don’t always have to be complicated, Angevin.”

[Angevin Beauvoir]

He wasn’t entirely sure he believed her story about her past injuries. Not around for it? Damn Kallien Archer. Stasia had been slapped around and where had he been? Getting slapped around by Archer and calling it training. Bollocks. This new life sucked. He wanted his old one back, the one where Terra didn’t hate him, Evy wasn’t evil, and Stasia still kicked his ass at dancing. This new life was sort of awkward and strange to him. Well, maybe not the ass kicking, that could stay gone. He liked being close to, but he didn’t think she was catching what he was trying to stay. Fine. Whatever. He shouldn’t have brought it up anyways.

“Er…what are you going on about?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Hell if I know.”

“I think we both know the answer to that, Beauvoir.”

“Eh?”

“Ignore. Ignore until we can’t ignore it anymore.”

Until we? He smirked a little. Okay. He felt a lot better now. The hidden question had been answered.

“I think we have enough baggage separately, don’t you?”

Like the fruit he very nearly was, Beauvoir burst into song; a showtune, to be exact. "I'm lookin' for baggage that gooesss withhh mmmiiinnnneeee." ...and then his voice cracked and he winced, coughing, and whimpering once it stopped. "...ow."

“Besides, I like the way things are right now. Tomorrow you can go back to hating me and I’ll go back to pretending I think I’m better than you.”

“Aha, I knew you knew that I really am better. Ha!”

“And I’ll tease you at work and you’ll tear my clothes off when I drop by to make sure you’re still alive.”

He turned a little pink. “That predictable, am I?” He sighed, but rested his face in her blonde curls when she kissed his chest.

“Things don’t always have to be complicated, Angevin.”

“My hero!” Beauvoir laughed lightly, yet hissed and stopped when it hurt too much. “Erm, maybe we ought to go to the hospital now, oui?”

[Stasia Muxtrof]

-le fade!-