085: Snowdrop Tree, Part III
He knows some of your hideouts. It is not that he has stalked you, but every once in a while he has noticed you emerge from a secluded area, a book or two tucked under your arm. Later, when he has had nowhere to be and no one to talk to, he has gone back to those areas and found a wide windowsill hidden behind thick curtains, or an armchair under a small lamp. Sometimes there would be a forgotten apple there.
Now he checks those areas as he makes his way up to your room. In the armchair he finds the book you were reading. It seems deliberately left behind. He takes it with him.
Before your door he pauses and takes a deep breath. He has walked you to your room more than once, but he has never seen what lies beyond the door. It cannot be too different from his own room, he thinks. There must be a window, a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. Maybe a small fireplace.
He knocks.
The seconds drag by.
They become so long that he thinks you might not be in. Maybe you went out somewhere and forgot the book.
He hears footsteps and his heart leaps into his throat. But it is just another lodger passing by. He greets them with a nod, and they reply in kind.
Your door opens.
He stares at you. Opens his mouth and closes it. There are words he is meant to say, but they get stuck in his throat. Because you are illuminated by a large window behind you, through which he can see sunlight and snowdrop trees. The light catches in your hair, casting a halo about your head. Then he notices the tension in your body. The redness of your eyes. Your swollen nose.
You wait.
He clears his throat. "You forgot this," he says, offering the book, looking at it rather than you.
"Oh." You do not sound happy about it. You do not even reach for it.
He rubs his neck. "I guess it's not everyone's cup of tea. I can return it to the library if you don't want to read it, I just ..." His hand drops and he glances at you again.
"Maybe that would be better." You seem tired.
His heart sinks. "All right." He tucks the book under his arm. "I'll do that, then." He steps away from your door. "By the way, would you like to join me later? After dinner, I mean? I was thinking of finding somewhere in the garden to relax—a bench under some trees, maybe."
You hesitate.
He gets the feeling that you had been planning to skip dinner today.
"Who else is going to be there?" you ask.
"Just one of my friends," he says. "She wants to meet you properly." He pauses and frowns. "She's just a friend, you know."
Your shoulders relax. "I suppose I could join you for a little while."
He smiles, the disappointment lifting from his heart. "I'll see you for dinner, then."
"Yeah." A smile teases the corners of your mouth. "Hey, that book—would you mind if I had another look at it?"
Written by: Katrine H. (@katrinehjulstad on Instagram)
Now he checks those areas as he makes his way up to your room. In the armchair he finds the book you were reading. It seems deliberately left behind. He takes it with him.
Before your door he pauses and takes a deep breath. He has walked you to your room more than once, but he has never seen what lies beyond the door. It cannot be too different from his own room, he thinks. There must be a window, a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. Maybe a small fireplace.
He knocks.
The seconds drag by.
They become so long that he thinks you might not be in. Maybe you went out somewhere and forgot the book.
He hears footsteps and his heart leaps into his throat. But it is just another lodger passing by. He greets them with a nod, and they reply in kind.
Your door opens.
He stares at you. Opens his mouth and closes it. There are words he is meant to say, but they get stuck in his throat. Because you are illuminated by a large window behind you, through which he can see sunlight and snowdrop trees. The light catches in your hair, casting a halo about your head. Then he notices the tension in your body. The redness of your eyes. Your swollen nose.
You wait.
He clears his throat. "You forgot this," he says, offering the book, looking at it rather than you.
"Oh." You do not sound happy about it. You do not even reach for it.
He rubs his neck. "I guess it's not everyone's cup of tea. I can return it to the library if you don't want to read it, I just ..." His hand drops and he glances at you again.
"Maybe that would be better." You seem tired.
His heart sinks. "All right." He tucks the book under his arm. "I'll do that, then." He steps away from your door. "By the way, would you like to join me later? After dinner, I mean? I was thinking of finding somewhere in the garden to relax—a bench under some trees, maybe."
You hesitate.
He gets the feeling that you had been planning to skip dinner today.
"Who else is going to be there?" you ask.
"Just one of my friends," he says. "She wants to meet you properly." He pauses and frowns. "She's just a friend, you know."
Your shoulders relax. "I suppose I could join you for a little while."
He smiles, the disappointment lifting from his heart. "I'll see you for dinner, then."
"Yeah." A smile teases the corners of your mouth. "Hey, that book—would you mind if I had another look at it?"
Written by: Katrine H. (@katrinehjulstad on Instagram)
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