"Let Me Have the Pieces"
When a first kiss brings nothing but heartbreak. She was never ment to stay in Clover. But Julius rather had his heart broken, then never have kissed her.
Julius stepped into the library without a sound. The door clicked shut behind him, the echo swallowed by the stillness of the room. He paused, just for a second, letting the scent wash over him—old paper, melted wax, and something softer underneath. Something floral. Something that always made him think of her.
His body hurt. His shoulders, his legs, his hands—all sore from the mission, from the fighting. But he didn’t really feel any of it anymore. Not when he saw her.
She was tucked into the window seat, knees drawn up beneath her, completely lost in the book resting in her lap. The light of the setting sun hit her hair just right, turning those soft coral strands into gold-tipped silk. She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her lips moved slightly as she read, like she was silently mouthing the words. He should’ve turned away. Should’ve left before she saw him. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not like this, not now, not ever.
But he stayed.
Something about her always made him forget the rules they made. Maybe it was the quiet weight she carried, like the world had rested on her shoulders for so long she’d forgotten what it was like to be free. Or maybe it was just her—entirely herself even in silence, pulling him in without even trying.
She looked up.
Their eyes met, and the moment shifted.
She didn’t smile. Not right away. Instead, she closed her book slowly, carefully, as though even that small act deserved reverence. Then she stood.
“Julius,” she said, breath catching on his name. She crossed the room with quiet urgency. “Sweet saints, what happened to ye? Where’ve ye gone this time?”
Before he could answer, she wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t think. He just leaned in, folding into her warmth like it was the only real thing left in the world. He pressed his face into her shoulder and inhaled, letting the scent of her ground him.
“I’m here,” he murmured.
She leaned back just enough to see him, her fingers gripping his cloak. “Your hands,” she whispered, tracing a cut along his knuckles.“Ye’re bleedin’… again. Ye looked me in the eye and promised.”
“I didn’t promise,” he said, managing a tired smile. “You told me I had to be.”
Her lips twitched, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes.“And yet again, ye went all in—just like ye always do.”
“I had to.”
“Ye always have to, don’t ye?” Her voice broke, and she looked away, trying to swallow the frustration rising in her chest. “Do ye even think, for a second, what it’d do to me if ye never came back?”
He reached up and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, careful and slow. “I think about you,” he said quietly. “All the time.”
She stilled.
The words settled between them, soft and heavy.
“I’m tired,” he said, “of pretending there’s nothing between us. Because there is..”
She stared at him like she was trying to read the truth on his face. Whatever she found, it stopped her breath.
“Ye know full well, if ye kiss me…” she said, barely more than a whisper, “Everything. Changes. Ye know.”
He nodded. “I do.”
She looked away, blinking fast. “I’m not meant to belong here. Not in this place. Not in this life. I never had the sort of choice others get handed.”
“Then don’t stay,” he said, voice steadier now. “Just don’t go. Not yet. Please”
Silence stretched again. This one is softer. Sadder.
“This won’t end well for ye, ye’ll see.”she said, hands sliding up to his shoulders. “There’ll come a day when it’s plain to ye.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “But not today.”
And then something broke, he could not hold back anymore. His hand resting on her cheek. His thumb brushing her soft skin. Slowly without control, he was pulled to her. And he kissed her.
There was nothing rushed about it—just the kind of kiss that speaks when everything else falls short. She let out a soft sound against his lips, something between a sigh and a sob, and melted into him. Her fingers found the back of his neck, the edge of his cloak, clinging to whatever she could.
The kiss deepened—not hurried, but full of everything they hadn’t said. Grief. Hope. Longing. Fear.
Somehow they moved—he didn’t know who shifted first—but then her back was against the wall and he was holding onto her like she might disappear if he didn’t.
When they finally broke apart, she stayed close, lips brushing his, her breath unsteady.
“This won’t end well, I’m tellin’ ye.” she said. “I’ll be the one to break your heart, I’m afeared of that.”
He looked at her, really looked—at the fierce, proud girl who tried so hard to stay unshaken and untouchable. Her mist grey eyes, so soft.
“Then let me have the pieces,” he said.
She blinked, caught off guard. Her expression cracked just a little—enough for him to see what was beneath it. She touched his face, her thumb brushing gently along his cheek.
“Ye’re a bloody fool.” she whispered.
He smiled, soft and tired. “Only when it comes to you.”
And for now, that was enough.
