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I’m not so sure. Elias still seems a little distant, not even calling Caelan out or trying to rein him in when he makes noises about testing out the display beds. A process that gets as far as him sitting me down on the edge of one and making me giggle by kissing me thoroughly, with some minor groping involved, before a small gaggle of shoppers walk by. I blush and hastily shove Caelan off of me. Even after that, Elias is still wearing the expression he gets when lost in thought, frowning as he weighs an internal debate.
Even though it feels pointless to buy things for a house I don’t live in, Elias and Caelan encourage me to get whatever I like. Honestly, I don’t feel the need for much. Some candles, a cute basket I have no idea what to put in it, but it’s nice and cheap, and some toiletries since I didn’t think to bring any. I get the usual shampoo and conditioner, shower gel, and a hot sugar scrub and bath bomb as a couple of extra luxuries.
In the garden section, we get some of the plants Elias had mentioned. He selects a large crystal vase, too, and buys a bouquet of roses to fill it with.
For not strictly needing to buy anything, we come away with quite a lot. But then again, that’s usually how these sorts of trips go, and I laugh as I explain that to Elias and Caelan.
“Humans are weird,” Caelan comments.
“You have no room to be judging anyone on buying needless items,” Elias replies. “You bought a taxidermy shark and more knives, of which you already have a collection of at least twenty, yet always use the same one when required.”
We eat a late lunch once we’re done shopping before returning home to sort through our purchases. Then I spend the rest of the afternoon outside. There’s something oddly intimate about wasting time with Elias in the garden.
He didn’t like the cheap pots that the plants came in and bought replacements, and I agreed to help him repot them. I spend more time just looking at Elias, sleeves rolled up and soil on his hands, than helping. And when I do try to help shift one of the larger plants across to its new pot, my fingers just end up brushing against his. Elias smirks as he looks up, meeting my eyes, and my face flushes.
That task complete, I return upstairs to wash my hands, but glancing at the time, I figure it’s late enough for me to start getting ready to go out for real.
“What should I wear?” I ask Elias. “I presume we’re going somewhere fancy?”
He gives a quiet laugh. “I suppose so. It is our six-month anniversary. It would be remiss of me not to make a little effort.”
He’s probably understating it. A ‘little effort’ is going to be somewhere expensive. I know him. “Mmm, I figured as much.” I smile.
I brought a nice dress with me in preparation for precisely that reason. A slinky black thing with a halter neck and ruched at one side while the rest of the fabric cascades to the floor. The neckline scoops low, and a panel studded with black stones covers most of the cleavage that would otherwise be visible. High heels too. I may not be a fan of heels, but I’d tried on a pair in the same thrift shop where I’d found the dress, and the way they made my legs look so much longer and sexier was too good not to buy them.
I feel kind of hot wearing the heels. Maybe not the greatest balance-wise since I’m so unpracticed, but if it gives me an additional excuse to hold tight to Elias and Caelan’s sides, then I’m fine with it.
With my dress on, hair brushed into submission, and a touch of makeup applied, I rejoin them in the living room. Elias, at least, as Caelan must still be upstairs.
I’ve picked up the habit of wearing more eyeliner because it looks so good on Elias, and I’ve used concealer to cover the worst of the hickeys and markings visible around my neck.
Elias is sitting at the piano, his back to me as I come down the stairs. There are two things I notice. First, he hasn’t put his jacket on yet. It’s draped over the edge of the piano, thus allowing me to see that he’s wearing suspenders over the fresh white dress shirt he’s changed into. Second, although the piano is playing, he’s not actually playing it himself. His hands are folded in his lap as he simply watches on.
Both observations clash in my mind, and I’m not sure which to focus on first. I go with the fact the piano is seemingly playing itself. That seems more bewildering.
I step closer. Elias must be able to hear me, as my heels click loudly on the wooden floor, but he doesn’t turn immediately. Curiously, I glance over his shoulder.
He’s not touching the piano himself, but as I approach, I can see the faint touch of shadows caressing the keys as the melody plays.Ah.So that’s it.I don’t recognize the song, but, of course, it’s something slow and somber. Melodramatic edgelord indeed.
I laugh softly and wrap my arms around him from behind. Of course, he plays piano. He does for Goëtica. It wasn’t as though I weren’t aware of the fact. But, like a lot of other things about the house, it’s rather overkill when just a keyboard would have sufficed.
“I should have figured you’d have a big, old-fashioned grand piano here,” I tease. “Every good brooding, romantic antihero plays.”
He raises his hand to cover mine. His shadows keep on playing, despite his lack of attention to them. “Is that what you think I am?”
“No, not really,” I admit. Our fingers tangle together where Elias’ hand is on mine, but my other hand slides over his chest. I trace the line of his suspenders curiously. It’s so incredibly tempting to just pull on them. “You’re much more than that to me.”
“I might believe it more if you weren’t feeling me up as you said it,” he suggests, one eyebrow raised, and I laugh.
The next moment my breath catches. The piano stops, and those shadows, the manifestation of Elias’ power curling through the fabric of this reality like a tainted fog, reach for me instead. I can feel them against my skin, crawling up my arms, wrapping around my legs, the cold static of their phantom touch. I freeze, eyes widening.That’s new.
Elias turns on the piano stool to face me, a smirk curling on his lips. He stands, and even with my high heels, he’s still taller than me. He presses a finger against my lips. “No touching without permission tonight, dear,” he commands quietly.
“Oh… okay,” I say, trying to pretend I’m not already breathless. Trying to pretend that the caress of his power, of his darkness, doesn’t make me want to shiver.What is that?
“We have a lot to discuss tonight,” Elias murmurs. His fingers graze against my jaw, tilting my chin up so he can brush his lips against mine. He presses a soft kiss there, then against my cheekbone, then moves lower to kiss my neck.
The affection is gentle, unhurried and unheated. But between that and the way his shadows curl around me, I can feel warmth starting to rise to my cheeks. “Good discuss or bad discuss?”
