Courtship Stop #1: The Keats Estate
Orpheus tried to remain calm, taking deep breaths as Ilyas moved closer to him. He could feel every muscle in his body tighten, his nails digging into the wood of the workshop table as he felt Ilyas’ eyes fixated on him.
He was enjoying this.
That fact alone was nearly enough to send Orpheus over the edge, his jaw clenching against the desire to lunge at Ilyas.
It was quiet. They were alone. Who would know?
A few more bruises would hardly be noticeable against the canvas of his already painted skin.
Attempting to maintain composure, Orpheus carefully thought of each word, navigating the possible conversation like a fragile dance. The effort to remain calm felt like walking on a tightrope, with every phrase measured to avoid triggering the dormant animosity he held onto so tightly.
[color= #D7BBA8] “Though, I don’t believe I indulged as much as you?” [/color] Ilyas’ voice sounded sickeningly calm, the smooth and soft cadence of an ever composed first-born son. The very same sound Orpheus attempted to mimic with his own strained and unstable voice.
Orpheus wanted nothing more than to shut Ilyas up, to fight their typical verbal spar as they always had in public. However, there was something more that pulled at him, holding his tongue where the insults would have normally flown so rapidly.
It was a delicate negotiation, a forced civility in blended harmony with a chorus of unresolved resentment.
[color= #BC0057] “I…” [/color] Orpheus tried to find the right words, fighting the urge to quip back at Ilyas on the spot, forgoing the entire apology.
The burn on his stomach, with each twist in his shirt, sent a shocking reminder to his senses of the reason for his arrival.
The pain kept him stable. It kept him collected.
[color= #BC0057] “I may have had a few more glasses than my empty stomach could hold, yes.” [/color] Orpheus turned to Ilyas, finally meeting his eyes after being downcast for so long.
A more stern and cold expression filling the space where his chaotically angry gaze would typically sit. Looking in his eyes was harder still. How long could he hold himself together against Ilyas’ incessant taunts and attempts to break him? By becoming the one thing he never was…
Emotionless.
That is how Orpheus would get through this. For feeling nothing would prevent him from being pulled by the tirade of emotions that typically overcame him in Ilyas’ presence. He needed to keep it together. He had to.
He no longer looked at Ilyas Keats, but a man, as any other man would be, simple, ordinary, disconnected from Orpheus’ own life. He had to erase Ilyas from his mind. Now more than ever.
[color= #BC0057] “I must…apologize,” [/color] The word hung loosely in the air, it’s meaning half-hearted at best. Even muttering the word pained Orpheus, although he attempted to keep the emotions clear from his expression. [color= #BC0057] “My behavior toward you was less than dignified. A mix of childhood emotions and drunken thoughts. Nothing more. So, forgive me, Lord Keats, I must have forgotten myself.” [/color] Orpheus held his breath, fighting back the hot tears and anger that swelled just behind his vacant expression.
His eyes betrayed his face, however, as they flickered with the fiery heat of unsaid words years in the making.
Of a twisted hatred.
Of unimaginable pain.
mentioned :
Ilyas (@Madilfill)