The Devil Doesn't Bargain (MatD part 2)

Chapter FOUR - Spoilsport

Beneath the wallowing willow tree, I sat with my heart and his broken one listening to him talk to the grey chiseled stones with such enthusiasm that it wrapped tighter around my shoulders than the cold did. Though that didn't stop the chill from seeping below my cursed skin.

I shivered deeply and Sebastian paused for only a moment to shrug out of his suit jacket and tuck it around my arms. The instant warmth seated beneath my lungs and I took a deep breath in to swallow it.

"You'd be proud of Anne." He continued, smiling to the stones, one of his long arms snaking around my back and pulling me to him so that I could nestle into the warmth of his body. His eyes traced mine for a moment before he continued speaking to his parents but watching me. "You'd be proud of Atley too..."

I pulled my lips into a sideways grin, wishing I could feel the same.

"I know I am."

I marveled at the universes behind his eyes. 

Tucking my head toward his shoulder, I pressed an ear to his chest and listened to the deep hum as he continued speaking to the pair of them. His fingertips squeezed gently against my arm, thumb running up and down. His voice rumbled beneath his skin, a deep sort of comfort and I smiled to myself as a glimmer of peace swam within my eyes and trickled from the corner.

Minutes passed so swiftly I wasn't particularly sure how long we sat. The willow branches swung gently in the breeze but only let small glimmers of light between them, leaving me little indication of the time. As his thoughts and stories quieted, I waited for the inevitable shift of muscles, the signal that this tender moment's time was up and we were to return to reality.

But it didn't come.

Sebastian's breathing evened out, his chest rising and falling so steadily I was sure he had fallen asleep until his slightly gritty voice tickled my ear.

"That poem Ominis recited back there... it was one of my father's favorites. He would read it to us as children."

I shifted my ear against his chest.

"I doubt he knew it though." He added quickly, throat bobbing. "I'm sure Anne read it to him at some point and he just thought it might be important to her."

I pulled his hand around to mine and began tracing my fingertips over each of his.

"I guess it was just a lot for me. Hearing those words and- and the clothes-"

"The clothes?"

A small, weighted silence.

"Anne's dress, my suit..." He shifted beneath me, legs stretching against the tight fabric. "...they have been heavily altered since then but- it- they- they're the same ones we wore to our parents' funeral."

My tongue caught at the back of my throat.

"A few years back, Solomon had the Feldcroft tailor adjust them for us as we had grown so much, though clearly not well enough." He shifted one of his legs out from beneath us, highlighting the too high hem. "We had needed mourning-wear for a funeral of a close friend of Solomon's. I don't even know his name but- but he forced us to attend and insisted on us wearing these."

I gripped his fingers tight between mine.

"I'd hoped to never see them again truthfully."

The silence felt thick and I wished for the right words to say, something to ease the pain of memories. When nothing came I opted for a small subject change, squeezing his hand once more.

"You told your parents about me."

He shifted us until he could look at my face again, his left brow cocked high and grin playing at the edge of his cheeks.

"Well I had to complain to someone about the know-it-all who cheated in our first duel. And Anne sided with the girl over me instantly of course." He grumbled.

I scoffed and playfully shoved his arm off me, my voice raising a hint too loud.

"I did NOT cheat!'

He shoved a finger against my lips, pressing them sideways across my face.

"Shh! Shh Barlowe. Not in front of my parents please. Now is not the time to be a spoilsport."

"I oughta-" 

My words smothered by the entirety of his palm over my mouth, a warning wiggle of his brows urging my words back. I would allow no such smothering and permitted a small hint of my childhood immaturity to slip out. 

I dragged my tongue up the underside of his hand.

He jerked away far quicker than I had anticipated and only just barely caught my body weight on my elbows in the grass blades. Sebastian wiped his hand against his trousers again and again, his nose and brows scrunched in disgust.

"Real mature Barlowe." 

He stuck out his tongue and I side eyed the tombstones as if they may take my side. 

My glee at having successfully freed myself momentarily distracted as my eyes grazed over the small wooden box between the stones.

"What's that?" I nodded my nose towards it.

Sebastian, still feverishly wiping my saliva from his palm as if we hadn't kissed the night before, begrudgingly answered my question.

"A letter box."

I readjusted Sebastian's overcoat on my shoulders. "You write them letters?"

He nodded, tilting his head down and I could have sworn I caught the slight hint of pink across his cheeks. "Not as often as I write- wrote to Anne but, I've kept them updated on our lives since the day they left it."

I smiled, a flood of adoration swelling in my lungs.

"That's beautiful."

His eyes darted up to mine, chin lifting gently as he smiled. "Ya?"

"How often do you bring them here then?" I knew we didn't spend every waking moment together but the past few months I surely would have noticed his absence.

"I uh- actually the owls do."

I shivered slightly. "The owls?" 

"Just regular ol' owl post." He grinned. "I suppose they just fly right through the vines or hop through or something, but the box is enchanted to hold hundreds of thousands of letters. I'm not even sure how many must be in there by now."

Somehow the thought of those piles of unopened letters didn't make me sad but instead sat over my heart, swelling within it as it beat it's steady rhythm. I thought of my parents, of how their chiseled headstones had been sitting alone for so long and guilt quickly took its place in my heartbeat. I would forever feel guilty for what I had done to them, would forever hold that weight upon my shoulders... but perhaps I could still give them a piece of my life, perhaps I could...

"Sebastian?"

"Hmm?" He was threading a few blades of grass between his fingers.

"Could you... could you show me how to set up one of those owl post boxes?"