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Feet planted into the ground, no movement could be gathered from you. Even your breath was held as you stood there as still as a statue. Perhaps in the back of your mind, you had a feeling it was Blaise, yet the risk was not worth it. Even if it was him, it wasn't as if you would want to see him anyway; he had been so rude and totally made it clear he no longer supported you. Your heartbeat pounding in your chest, the only thing you could hear for a minute was the familiar grandfather clock.

"[Y/N], please. I know you are in there. I hope you can give me a chance to explain." Oh, it was him alright. Your features contorting in anger the moment his low and familiar voice spoke, you wondered what you should do next. At least you weren't going to get murdered tonight, you supposed. Still, as someone who held grudges, you did not want to answer the door. To just allow him back into your open arms would be like letting him walk all over you. Unfortunately, another one of your traits clashed with this grudge-holding. Curiosity. You wished to know why he was here. And on the day of the ball, to that.

Sighing loudly, you slowly approached the door. The keyholes turned and it unlocked. Opening it up, you were greeted by the young man and to your surprise, he was not wearing his top hat tonight. His tousled, highlighted hair blew against the wind and his clothes ruffled along with it. A total contrast to his usual black outfit, he was wearing an all white suit and a trenchcoat over it. Under the darkened sky, he almost looked ethereal standing there.

He shot an uncertain smile at you, but dropped it when the glare on him didn't lighten. "You have every right to be mad... my actions that day were unforgivable," he said, lowering his head. His green eyes were glistering in genuine sadness and regret. "I don't know what I was thinking, but I must have been insane to speak to you that way. That is not the person I am nor is it the person I want to be, so I'm truly sorry."

You leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms across your chest in defense. "I came to you because I needed support. And you belittled me in response. Do you know how much it hurt? I thought of you as a friend," you muttered, looking away as you blinked back the tears.

He stepped closer to you and reached out to grab your hands. You did not pull away as the warmth pressed upon the skin. Heart racing again, but not in fear for your life, you grew nervous at the close proximity and vulnerability you've been feeling. A look of relief spread across his face at the fact you did not deny his gesture. "I wish I could take back those things I've said, but alas, the damage has been done. I never intended to hurt you and since the beginning, I thought of you as a friend as well," he responded, grasping tighter onto your hands, as if you were going to disappear any second.

You were getting swayed... you were sure of it. What power did he have to sound so convincing and sincere? Were you really going to accept his apology after this one conversation? "Can you possibly give me some time to think? This was just... so sudden... especially since you came here so late at night... on the day of the ball as well," you asked him.

"I-- yes, of course," he said politely. "But before I leave, I want to give you a gift. I know that actions speak louder than words, so I hope this can somewhat make up for my mistakes."

Your ears perked up to the sound of this and you widened your [e/c] hues in surprise. What could it possibly be? He nudged his head towards the side of the house and began walking with your hand in his. Pulled along with him, you hurried to match him brisk steps after you fumbled in closing the backdoor. Dead grass below you, you passed the messy garden and continued to stroll beside him until the two of you reached the front of the house.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes grew large. In front of you was another carriage, polished in a beige sheen. Two white horses waited in the front, but no coachman was sitting up there for them. Simple, but very elegant, it was certainly a way of transportation. Glancing over at Blaise, a million thoughts flurried through your mind. What was the meaning of this? Instead of answering your questions, he only shot you a smile and went over to the carriage.

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