Page 29 of At The End There Was You

“Me. I can have all the colours lined before me, and I’d still dip my brush in grey. If you ask me why, I wouldn’t be able to answer you. If you ask me if I hated colour, I would say not always. If you asked me to try and dip my brush in them, I’d tell you that I hate it and then I’d resent you for forcing me to do so. Everyday, I see the world differently. Sometimes I hate it, resent it, love it, adore it. If I decided the fate of the world on the basis of what day it is, the world would have ended long ago. I’m sure Death is susceptible to grey days, too. He’s existed a long while to not have lived at least one grey day.”

“You still think he is angry?”

“I do. Something has happened, that I know. But what can be so severe that even Death has lost faith in an entire world.”

Azriel leaned in and left a kiss on her forehead, his lips were soft and cool against her skin. It felt like the first touch of rain on scorching summer earth. “Tell me how you have not.”

“You assume I haven't?”

He raised a brow. “Not assumed. Deduced.”

“Ever doubted that you’re perhaps a bad judge of character?”

“No skill set required in judging you.”

“Because I am an open book?” He’d told her that before, but she was wondering how much of what she showed to the world was enough to judge her character.

“Because you talk to the fiends and ghosts when the world has cast them out and fears them, you reassure them, offer them company, and even crack jokes they thoroughly hate while you expect nothing in return. You’re sometimes grateful they are even there though they really don’t have anywhere else to go. And before you say it, I’ve heard you tell them that. I can’t begin to imagine how you treat the world outside of shadows.”

She was about to turn the colour of the vegetable she’d been compared to all her life. Or was it a fruit? She’d forgotten. “How do you know they hate my jokes?”

“They roll their eyes at you. Some sigh, too.”

She gaped, offended. “They do?”

“How do you do that, Winter?” he asked, pushing her red hair out of her face. “How do you remain so spirited in a world who has wanted to rob you out of it? How do you fight for others when no one has ever fought for you? How are you so understanding of others when no one has been understanding of you? ”

“I have, I think. I’ve laughed for me, fought for me, thought of me. I think,” she added, giving him a quivering smile. “You said that it is enough.”

“It is. But I pity the world that holds you and doesn’t see you.”

When they’d returned, Winter had quickly made the excuse of returning to her task, and then disappeared between the library shadows. Hiding. From herself, not him.

She sat between a hidden corridor of shelves by the far end of the second floor and placed the book on her knees, attempting to concentrate on the words and failing.

She wished she was afraid of the ominous whispers of curious fiends that had followed her to that corner, and plastered their attention on her. Shining a candle would probably shoo them away, but she didn’t want Azriel to find her. Not yet. Not until she had cleared her turbulent thoughts that involved him, him and more of him.

A shadow suddenly fell over her and she looked up to find Azriel’s dark eyes pinning her on the spot. “You’re hiding from me.”

“No.” Maybe she was, after all. Winter realised she should have hid better, harder, further, when her pulse shifted as he stood before her, when electricity zapped down her spine as he enveloped her space, when every sense in her body was thrown off as their gazes clashed.

“And now you’re lying to me. What is next?”

She was terrified. Of him. And the fact she was beginning to doubt her choices in remaining partial against what they were to face in only two days. It wasn’t enough. Suddenly time was not enough. It hated her even. It hated her so much. She would begin to find Death’s reasons severely unreasonable, she was beginning to resent him, damn him, curse him, and…and almost beg him to give them more time. “It would be better if—”

“Don’t lie again.”

“I wasn’t.” It would be better if they remained apart. For her.

He tilted his head to the side, a shadow covering half of his face and making him look even more terrifying. “Winter.”

She gave up soon, lifting a hand to him. There was little time, and she didn’t wish to spend it thinking. She’d done enough of it for the past twenty four years. Now…now she was wanting to live in that hurtful reality, though Winter hated pain, she really hated pain. “Can you come down here?”

Azriel took her hand and crouched down so they were face to face. “I want to bring you chamomile and biscuits and chocolates, but I don’t know if they can fix this, whatever that is hurting you.”

“It’s alright, you brought me something else.”

His voice was dark and hoarse when he asked, “And what is that?”