𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 - Wriothesley x Neuvillette

Heartache and duty (Chapter 36)

The corridors of Palais Memoria echoed with the muted shuffle of footsteps as Wriothesley made his way through Palais Memoria. His heart weighed heavy with an unspoken longing, a yearning for the connection he had lost with Neuvillette. He had left Meropide to go speak to Neuvillette, calling it "official business". With a hesitant hand, Wriothesley knocked on the door before stepping inside. 

"Wriothesley," Neuvillette murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

Wriothesley felt his heart race as he looked at Neuvillette. How many days had it been? He wasn't sure. None of them had reached out to the other, both drowning themselves in their duties instead.

"I've missed you," Wriothesley confessed, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. He watched as Neuvillette's shoulders stiffened, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the chamber.

"I'm sorry, Wriothesley," Neuvillette replied, his voice strained with emotion. "But I have duties to attend to."

"I understand, and so do I, but please. Please just talk to me."

"I'm afraid I don't have time in my schedule for that, your grace."

Neuvillette's use of his title stung. It hurt more than he thought. He just wanted to hear his name on Neuvillette's lips, not this bitter distance he was putting between them. The words hung between them like a barrier, a reminder of the distance that had grown between their hearts.

"But what about us?" Wriothesley pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

"We have duties we need to prioritize."

The bitterness in his tone cut through Wriothesley like a knife, leaving him reeling with the sting of rejection. He had hoped for understanding, for compassion, but all he found was a wall of indifference that seemed insurmountable. It reminded him all too well of the Neuvillette he knew before. The apathetic Chief Justice. Is that perhaps who he really is? Wriothesley turned to leave, the weight of Neuvillette's absence bearing down on him like a burden too heavy to bear.

 Outside, the world carried on, oblivious to how he felt. It felt odd to think no one knew how things were, how his world had been slipped upside down once and now again. How he loved Neuvillette and how it hurt to lose him. He knew he wasn't really gone, and it wasn't a real rejection, but it still hurt so much. He sat in his office, doing paperwork endlessly. 

Eventually, he did start to hear about the sudden absence of the Iudex, people were asking him wherever he went if he had scared Neuvillette off or what happened between them. It was like they were rubbing salt in his wounds, reminding him of it over and over. It was cruel. Rumors swirled like gusts of wind through the halls, whispers of speculation about the sudden absence of the Iudex. Wriothesley could feel the weight of curious stares, the probing questions that pierced through his defenses like arrows. It was as though the palace itself had become a stage for the drama of his fractured heart.

In the solitude of his office, surrounded by stacks of parchment and ink-stained quills, Wriothesley wrestled with his emotions. The memory of Neuvillette's distant demeanor replayed in his mind like a relentless refrain, each word a dagger that pierced his resolve.Despite the ache that gnawed at his soul, Wriothesley refused to succumb to despair. He refused to believe that their connection was lost beyond repair, buried beneath the weight of duty and obligation. He couldn't bear to accept that Neuvillette's indifference was the final verdict on their relationship.

In the silence that followed, Neuvillette felt the weight of his own inadequacies pressing down upon him, suffocating him with the burden of expectation. He longed to shed the mask of indifference, to bare his soul to Wriothesley and lay bare the fears that plagued him.But fear held him captive, fear of the unknown and the uncertainty that lay beyond. And so, as Wriothesley turned to leave, Neuvillette remained rooted to the spot, his heart heavy with regret.

In the days that followed, as rumors swirled and whispers echoed through the halls of Palais Memoria, Neuvillette found himself grappling with the consequences of his actions. He had allowed duty to eclipse desire and had forsaken the very thing that had once brought light to his world.

But he couldn't do anything about it now. Would Wriothesley even love him after this? Maybe it was better to let go and avoid hurting both of them. He knew Wriothesley would die eventually either way, so maybe it was better to get it over with quickly so it wouldn't tear his heart apart when he had to put him in his grave. Maybe it was better this way, he thought to himself, despite clearly feeling the pain in his heart.

"It will pass," Neuvillette murmured to himself.

"Either way, I cannot afford such weakness," Neuvillette muttered to the solitude that enveloped him, as if speaking the words aloud would fortify the walls he had started rebuilding around his heart. It was better for both of them if he stopped loving Wriothesley. He was sure of it. He clung to the belief that he could quell the flame. That he could destroy the ties that bound him to Wriothesley, all in the name of duty.

In the days that followed the painful exchange, they both found solitude hiding in their offices. Hiding from questions and stares. The rumors had made their way out of Meropide in no time and had become all people spoke of. The steam bird had multiple articles about them, and both men refused to read anything with a headline even remotely like the first one they had seen.

"The Iudex and The Duke, in a love quarrel?"

Neuvillette had scoffed and thrown the paper on the ground days ago, and it was still there. Seems no one had dared enter his office to remove it. He had noticed he was more irritated and sent quite tense glares at people who had done nothing to deserve them. It was probably just because he was stressed with all his work. Better focus on getting it done. Better forget about Wriothesley.