Osric watched as Amelia pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and poured a healthy amount into two glasses. He tried to hold back his surprised laugh, but his exhaustion must have gotten the better of him because he couldn't. Amelia just shrugged and gulped some down. "It's been a long day."
He looked at her then, maybe for the first time that day. There was a heaviness in her eyes that wasn't there yesterday. He wondered if work had been difficult for her or if it was Jeremy's visit that had caused that look. He was really starting to hate that guy.
She handed him his glass and he took a small sip. He didn't really care for wine. Actually, he rarely drank, but today he could make an exception.
Wine glasses in hand, they made their way to the living room where Amelia surprised him, not for the first time that day, by sitting next to him on the loveseat. Up until now, she had kept her distance by sitting across from him on the chair. Her knee brushed his as she settled more deeply into the seat. She cradled her wine glass and sighed with contentment. He took another sip and tried not to cringe at the taste. Clearing his throat, he took another, tentative, sip. With each drink, the wine seemed less abrasive and he could feel the calming effect of the alcohol seeping into his body.
Still, it was hard for him to relax. She was sitting so close that her thigh rested against his. Her shoulder occasionally brushed his arm as she drank her wine. Despite all these distractions, the more wine he drank, the more it seemed to be coaxing his muscles to let go of their tension. He laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. This is nice, he thought. Sitting with Amelia beside him, his body and mind relaxing, and, for the moment, having nothing to worry about. It was nice.
Heaviness filled his body as sleep threatened to take him. "Osric." Amelia's voice sounded so far away. "Osric," he heard again. Closer this time. With effort, he pried his eyes open before noticing a slight pressure on his shoulder. It was Amelia; she had laid her head there and closed her eyes. "Are you asleep?" she asked, sounding half asleep herself.
"Mmmm," he mumbled.
With a shake of her head, she pulled back to meet his gaze. He instantly missed her closeness. He still wasn't sure why she was sitting so close to him to begin with. She hadn't had that much wine and after what Jeremy had apparently told her, this is the opposite of what he thought would happen.
Still, he couldn't question it for too long. It had been so long since he had felt this comfortable with anyone and he just wanted it to last as long as possible. How did he make it last?
"Can I ask you something?" she asked, still holding his gaze. Her eyes were soft with a hint of sadness lurking in their depths.
He nodded; a bit weary.
She rested her head back on his shoulder as if she couldn't ask this question while looking him in the eyes. "Why are you pushing yourself this hard?"
Her breath was warm on his neck. It almost distracted him from her question. He played it back in his head, trying to make sense of what she had said through the haze of fatigue and...Gods, lust. It was hard to think with her so close. She smelled amazing, she looked amazing. Wait, she had asked him a question. Why are you pushing yourself this hard? Pushing himself. Not Jeremy. Not his team. Himself. "Who says I am pushing myself? Maybe I'm pushing everyone else to work too hard while I laze around all day and stay up too late at night." He couldn't suppress the yawn that tore through his body. Too tired. Too many words.
He felt her head shake. Then, he felt something between his brows. He looked up and saw that she was rubbing the spot between his eyes, smoothing the line there. "This line has grown deeper and deeper with each passing day. You're pushing yourself, body and soul. Why?"
Relaxing at her touch, he forced himself not to lean into it, to press his face into her hand, to press his lips against her palm. Instead, he considered her question and admitted, "It's...complicated."
"Try me." She removed her hand from his face and sat it on his chest, just below her head. Gods, this intimacy was...a lot. It was unexpected and comfortable; it was amazing, but also disappointing, because it felt like it could be taken away at any moment.
He needed more wine or something to distract him if he was going to have this conversation and not look like an idiot in the process. Tentatively, he touched the hand that rested on his chest, drawing a line up and down with the tips of his fingers. She didn't pull away, just looked at him expectantly. "I feel...responsible."
"For what?"
"For keeping our people safe. For preventing the prophecy from happening. For—" he paused, unable to finish his sentence. Amelia turned her hand so that she was holding his. She gave it a squeeze. His heart squeezed along with it. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, "I feel responsible for keeping everyone safe because I knew how to prevent the darkness from swallowing us whole and I looked the other way. I failed our people and preventing this thing from happening is the only thing I can think to do in order to atone." His heart raced in his chest; he couldn't bear to look at her. He knew what he would see. He saw it every night in his dreams, whether it was from her, his father, or the entirety of Indale. Disappointment. Loathing.
She didn't force him to meet her gaze; instead, she laid her forehead on his shoulder and let out a shaky breath. The sound of it got Osric's attention. There was pain in that sound, not disgust. And she was drawing closer, not pulling away. It made no sense. She should be withdrawing from him, calling him names, telling him it's all his fault and that he should feel guilty. But she wasn't. It was enough to make him look at her. Removing his hand from hers, he placed it on her cheek, a silent request for her to look at him so he could read her expression. "Amelia?"
A single tear, rolled down her cheek, but she quickly swiped it away. "Amelia, what is it? Why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying," she protested. "I just..." she paused as if trying to find the best words to express the emotions that were playing on her face. One after another, he saw sadness, guilt, worry, and even more emotions that he didn't have a name for. "I had my suspicions that you were pushing yourself because of the prophesy. After getting to know you again, I figured it was because you felt responsible. But hearing those words out loud...it felt like you were pulling my deepest secrets from me and bringing them into the light."
She looked away from him and began playing with a loose thread on the collar of his shirt. "I don't know how to prevent the prophecy from happening, but I have spent much of my adult life feeling like I failed our people. I often feel like I'm not good enough. It's why I stay up well into the night to work on my potion and why I put so much effort into training to become a healer. It's because I know what's coming and even though I failed them once, maybe the path I've chosen will allow me to help once the darkness comes."
What do you have to feel guilty about? he wanted to ask, but the words were lodged in his throat. When they were young, she seemed resigned to marry him for the sake of their people. He was the one who walked away. He was probably the one that made her feel like she wasn't good enough. And that realization threatened to rip his heart out.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. The words bounced around his head. They were on the tip of his tongue, but they wouldn't come out. Why couldn't he say them? She deserved to hear them. But for the first time in 12 years, he didn't feel alone. And if he said how sorry he was now, maybe she would throw it back in his face. Maybe she would start hating him again. And he couldn't bear that, not when he finally found someone who understood what he felt because she felt it too. The responsibility, the shame, the guilt. She felt all of it, even if she didn't deserve. And for a moment, he wanted her to make him forget about those feelings. He wanted to make her forget too.
His eyes wandered to her lips. They were so close and looked so soft. Would she pull away if he leaned in? He looked up and saw that she was looking at him with as much need as he felt. He leaned in, slow enough to give her time to come to her senses, to push him away like he deserved. He for one, would not be changing his mind. He wanted her. He had wanted her from the moment she walked through the clinic door and he couldn't stop now for anything less than her telling him no.
When his lips were centimeters from hers, he paused. He was fully prepared for her push him away, but instead, she closed the distance. Bringing her lips to his in the softest, sweetest kiss he had ever experienced. She brushed her lips across his, as soft and delicate as a butterfly's wing. He shuddered and released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He could feel her smile against his lips. She was teasing him, he realized. Her smile was short lived as he pressed his lips more fully against hers. Still soft, still sweet, but he needed to feel her. He needed to taste her.
She turned toward him and melted against his chest, her hands coming to rest at the back of his neck, drawing him in. Her lips were warm as they glided across his. He felt her in every inch of his body, but it was faint. More, he needed more of her. His hands slid to her hips and he pulled her onto his lap. She let out a squeak of surprise and went rigid. Shit, had he gone too far? She looked down at him, her expression unreadable. Careful not to move too fast, he began rubbing soothing strokes along her back. He wouldn't press her any further, but he couldn't stop touching her. He rubbed his nose against hers and her eyes fluttered shut before bringing her mouth back to his.
Once, twice. The kisses were soft and fleeting. They felt like a goodbye. She sighed and rested her forehead against his. "As much as I'm enjoying this..." His heart stopped. She was enjoying this? "...we should stop. Nothing can come of this, Osric."
Disappointment flooded him; he would have to let her go now. This comfort and warmth would disappear and he would be left alone and cold. He wasn't ready for that, but he nodded and loosened his hold on her. She started to pull away and he found himself panicking, "Amelia!" Her name was out before his brain could stop it.
She paused and looked down at him. He didn't know what he expected to see, but disappointment and hope were not it. And yet there they were. Was he projecting his own thoughts onto her? "Can we—can we stay like this for a while? No kissing or touching, I promise," he added when uncertainty filled her gaze. "I just...I haven't felt this relaxed or comfortable in..." Ever, his brain supplied unhelpfully. "—A long time," he finished. "I know you don't owe me anything and if you're not comfortable, I understand, I just..."
She cut off his rambling with a small nod and leaned into his chest, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck. "Just for a little bit," she breathed.
"Just a few minutes," he agreed. Sitting there, he could feel her breath on his neck, and as aroused as he was, more than anything he felt safe. At ease. It was the last thing he remembered before everything went dark: the room, his fears, even his self-loathing.