it’s easy to let the sound of juste studying lull you into something almost like sleep. the flipping of paper and the scratching of the quill is something familiar, a constant companion to you both since you first started staying with the belmonts.
you had no touch for magic. not in the slightest. you were more interested in the physical parts of combat: the swordplay, the throwing knives, the whip.
oh, the belmonts, with their secrets. it makes something inside you twist like the sharp edge of a knife, sick and sour in your gut. the thought that flares in the back of your mind – something like jealousy, maybe, or a reminder of the nightmares that plagued you these days – makes your face twitch into a frown. you could blame it on exhaustion if you wanted. the yawn that escapes you makes that pretty easy to pull off.
“ i haven’t been here very long. i just couldn’t sleep, figured i’d come find out where you’d gone instead of trying to wander out into the garden and waking someone else. ”
juste explains his studies and you can only really nod your head along. magic. if only juste could just stick to magic and leave that silly hunting nonsense behind, he’d be so much happier.
you would be too, probably.
“ you know i don’t mind hearing you talk. i like hearing about your spells. you’re so enthusiastic about them. ” you manage a smile at that, a genuine crook of a grin as you pillow your head into your arms on the chair. the mention of how tired you look – and feel – makes your shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “ just haven’t been sleeping well. anxious, i think. ”
‘where else would i be?’ you want to ask, but the only sound that leaves you is a brittle laugh. with so little time left before the big day, you’ve practically moved into your study. if you’re not in here, you’re somewhere outside-- most recently the town outskirts, where mother can’t stumble upon your practice and work out how to counter whatever you throw at her. surely maxim knows this?
“is... it that late already?” you glance upwards and out the small window across the room. indeed, moonlight is seeping through the curtains and you find yourself wincing again. good thing maxim had been to the one to find you, and not lydie-- you’d be in for a scolding for sure for working too hard, too late. ‘rest is just as important as preparation’, she would say.
... maybe it’s time to leave off for the night. maxim’s sudden bout of insomnia sounds much more important than any stupid spellwork. with an elegant flick of your wrist the scraps of loose paper arrange themselves neatly, tucked away into a drawer. the grimoire snaps shut with a click and soars across the room into its place on your bookshelf. your tea... you place the cup back on its saucer and silently lament that it’s gone cold. ( the thought never occurs to you to heat it back up with your magic. a pity, really. )
“you’re not the only one, though,” you admit after a long pause, a soft exhale passing your lips as you slouch some and rest your elbows atop your legs. a hand finds itself in pale strands of hair. “feeling anxious and being kept up because of it, that is. i thought... if i’m not going to be sleeping, i may as well be productive. ... i’m going to test out my revisions tomorrow, i think, if you’d like to join me. um... if you don’t have plans already. i’m rather proud of the concept behind this one; it’d make me happy if you were to witness the first successful cast.”
should... you ask him about himself, though? you’re half-certain that any attempts to probe into your best friend’s issues would end in failure again. maxim’s... intent on staying silent, it seems, and in the meager candlelight it’s difficult to read his expression. the fact that his head is in his arms really doesn’t help. unable to help yourself, a hand finds itself in dark curls to tuck falling hair back into place. a safe, affectionate gesture...
“what’s got you so anxious?” may as well try. “if you don’t mind my asking. you know i won’t breathe a word of it to anyone...”
so why won’t you open up to me?
