#seacache (raphael.)

[lovemartyred]

[raphael] “No point in hiding from it.” [ sad ]

He’s right. As she stands in front of him, bag at her feet, disguised (badly) in her stolen boy-clothes, they can no longer hide from the situation. Jane is going to leave. Raphael is going to take the blame for it. Life, for him, will become harder, and for her, the world just keeps spinning, 

Her guilt is heavy in her stomach, pushing its way up her throat and threatening to make her ill. If she could bear staying even a little bit, she would, but there are times in life where people have to make impossible decisions and just hope that their choice proves to be the correct one. Suffer together, or part and maybe stop suffering. She doesn’t have much of a chance out there by herself, but she tells herself that it’s better than nothing. 

Blank-eyed, Jane looks at the man who’s been her only true companion and sighs. The guilt becomes a twisted, confusing mess – a ball comprised of too many threads to even begin pulling it apart, where each separate yarn blends somehow into the last until she becomes lost in the onslaught of her memories. These past months have somehow been the best of her life.

   “I love you,” Jane says. It’s matter-of-fact, simple. This feels like saying goodbye to a brother. One last time, she tries. “Come with me. I’ll look after us both.”

[lovemartyred]

for raphael @seacache.

the breeze plays with the curtains at the window and yet somehow, cruelly, doesn’t seem to reach where jane sits. the heat is unbearable to her, more so now than it had been in the first few weeks. perhaps it’s something to do with the fact that she no longer wants to be here. each day seems hotter, longer, worse than the last, and she dreams of the day that her uncle will finally say that their business is done and they can return home.

      safe in the knowledge that she is alone, she throws herself down on the sofa, her forgotten needlework beside her as one stockinged ankle swings back and forth. 

    she doesn’t know how long she stays like that, but the closing of a door startles her awake; she pulls herself up almost instantly, sniffing as she tries to fix where the curls of her hair have flattened under her cheek. the flurry of her fingers pauses only when she notices who it is.

    “raphael,” she says, smile audible. “i thought that you were... well, i was sleeping. is something the matter?”