the devil's redemption [tom r.]

42|| Late Night Confessions.

Her heart was pounding by the time she finished her short speech. Tom was still silent, so she decided to continue.

"What am I to you, Tom?"

He raised an eyebrow at her question, unable to think of a possible title to her position in his life. She was certainly an important ally, but was that it?

"Am I just a 'partner in crime', literally?" She chuckled at her own words, "Am I a pawn in your chess game? A friend? A tool? A puppet? A lover?" She said the last part so quickly that he almost thought he misheard it. He didn't like her question at all. It left him even more confused than he already was.

The ache in his chest was very unfamiliar, "I don't know. You're. . you're nothing to me."

Rosalind placed her left palm on his cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. His words should've discouraged her, but for some reason, the way he said them told her he wasn't definite himself. "Are you sure?"

Maybe it was the way she whispered those three words so intimately, or maybe it was the forest atmosphere, or maybe the fire that lit a tingly feeling in their hearts, maybe even their already deep conversation, but Tom Riddle couldn't help but kiss her.

It was not passionate. It was not hot. It was not lust-driven. It was just a soft, long kiss that was full of care, confusion, anger, hatred, and love. Tom held her tightly like he never wanted to let her go. And her hands seemed to automatically find their way to his hair, occasionally caressing his face, like they'd already memorised their way around him.

He didn't know if he was experimenting. He didn't know if he'd kissed her just to make sure he felt nothing towards her. All he knew was that his chest didn't feel cold anymore.

***

Rosalind was walking out of the tent once again, this time certain that the time was no less than six in the morning. The sky wasn't dark anymore, and she could hear birds chirping melodically around her.

She had no idea why she was awake so early. She'd been laying in Tom's arms, sleeping peacefully until a strange force woke her up for an unknown reason. Rosalind looked around the clearing, feeling the cold breeze brush against her skin. Everything around her was hazy, and she even considered going back to sleep because of her drowsiness.

But she decided against it when she heard a soft hum from deep within the woods. The tune was rhythmic and entrancing, it seemed to pull her without her consent. She was walking toward the source of the ethereal melody, unaware of her surroundings until she came across a particularly large tree in the centre of another glade.

The strange aspect of the tree was the glowing orb in its bole. Rosalind was confident she'd found the source of the humming sound. She felt the urge to touch the trunk that concealed the flickering ball, and she did, although she knew she shouldn't.