WHO: Evan Rosier and Cecilia Hooke
WHAT: Emofest
WHERE: Rosier Estate
WHEN: November '78

The past few weeks had been extremely long and tiring. He had been going to Mungo’s whenever he could, but in retrospect it felt like he didn’t go nearly as much as he should have. But it wasn’t like he could control it, seeing that he did have a job that didn’t allow him to have too much free time. His father, however, seemed to use his job as an excuse not to go, and the oldest Rosier child was usually left in charge of taking care of his dying mother. Even after she was gone, it was Evan who had to take care of everything, since Caleb claimed to be grieving too much to take care of what had to be done. He couldn’t be sure if his father was too scared to deal with the fact that his wife was dead, or if he really didn’t even care enough to get everything set up for her. Either way, it just gave him another reason to resent him. With all the commotion, Evan didn’t have a second to himself, and it wasn’t until today, the first of her wake’s, that everything decided to catch up to him.

He stood at the opposite end of the room, watching as friends and family went up to the open casket to say goodbye to his mother. She looked…healthy, which was ironic. With all of the potions she had been taking for the last couple of years, her skin had become dry and pale, and she was usually found with dark circles beneath her brilliant blue eyes that were surrounded by wrinkles that should belong to someone twice her age. But now, she looked like herself. She looked like porcelain, and she even felt like stone to the touch, cold and stiff.

He remained standing in the same spot for a while longer, listening to quiet sobs and ‘remember the time’ stories until he couldn’t take it anymore. Straightening himself out, he moved himself out of the room, needing to get away from all of the people who were apologizing to him, as though they had something to do with why she was gone. The only place he thought of to go was his old bedroom, up the stairs and far away, down a long hallway. It felt like it had been years since he had been there. Why did it have to be this that brought him back to his old home? Turning the doorknob, he stepped inside, not closing the door behind him as he went further inside, old memories rushing back to him as his eyes traced over the furniture inside. It was quiet, and it was calm, and it gave him a chance to breathe.

Turning, he took a seat on his bed and closed his eyes, groaning as he leaned forward to place his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his legs. He was drained. Physically and emotionally drained. He hadn’t even cried yet, to at least give him some sort of relief.

He still couldn’t believe that she was gone…

Cecilia felt guilty.

Really, really, really guilty.

Because, you see, now that she stood in the middle of this room of sobbing, grieving, sad people and looked over the face of the woman laying there in that ornate casket, she felt like a completely horrible person--because fuck, it she was honest with herself, when she found out that she was expected to come home for this wake, she had been happy. She hadn't been thinking so much about the fact that Aimée Rosier, her boyfriend's and best friend's mother, was dead, she was thinking..

... did it even matter what she was thinking? Merlin. Merlin, she was fucked up if she had even for a second been looking at this as an excuse to see Evan. It was--a woman was dead, and it was a woman that was important to two of the people she was closest to. Augh, it was--wait, where had Evan gone?

For the first time in minutes, Cecilia looked up from the place she had been sitting, and when she did noticed that the man she'd been watching across the room (still too embarrassed with her own thoughts to approach him, fuck it all) was no longer where he had been moments before. Before she could think about it, she had lifted herself out of her chair and brushed past her parents to leave the room, her feet moving quicker than she could tell and--there he was. Still walking, he was at the top of the large staircase, and she watched his back as he turned down a hallway. Finally stopping to think, Cecilia grappled with herself on whether or not to follow after him... she wanted to, but he probably wanted to be alone, but then again... okay, well if he didn't know she was there, then maybe it would be alright. She could just get close enough to see him and--aha, what a joke. Like she could really let herself get that close and not touch him.

Once he was out of sight, she slipped off her heels and followed his route silently up the staircase, feeling the cold marble against every inch of her bare feet. The hallway was no warmer, but at least she wasn't making a sound, so if she wanted to turn back around and leave, she would have no problem with--right, again, she had to be kidding herself. The second she spotted that door sitting ajar at the end of the hallway, Cecilia knew that that was for sure never going to happen. Instead, she made her way down, until she was standing there gripping the doorframe, her eyes falling fixed on an inattentive Evan, who looked to be rather in turmoil with himself. Like she could blame him, Circe, she--damnit, no, she really should go back. Turn around and go back, because as badly as she wanted to hug him right now, he didn't look as if he was in any state to want the company. He looked like he wanted to be alone.

Taking a small breath and clenching tight on all the willpower she had, Cecilia let go of the door and turned around to leave.

The quiet sound of Cecilia breathing was enough to catch his attention. His eyes pressed together tighter before he lifted his head to turn and see who was standing there. Of all the people, she was probably the one person he did want to see. He couldn't even stand to be around his sister right now, because she just couldn't stop crying, and...he couldn't take it. He just couldn't take it right now. There was too much going on, and he was trying to be strong, but he couldn't comfort her. He didn't think he could comfort anyone when he himself was feeling so broken. But, Cecilia...he knew that he didn't have to try and make her feel better, and that he didn't have to try and think of anything to say that would make everthing seem alright.

"Hey..." His voice was a little bit strained due to the knot that was currently in his throat. He swallowed around it and sat up straighter, a hand raising to rub the back of his neck. His entire body felt stiff. He hadn't been sleeping well, being that the few times that he had fallen asleep it was usually in a chair besides his mother's bed at the hospital, and after she passed he spent so much time making funeral arangements that he hadn't even thought about stopping to rest. "You don't have to go."

He knew exactly why she had turned around to leave, but he really didn't want her to...

She stopped frozen at his words, wincing just slightly at having been caught. Cecilia pursed her lips in indecision. Did she act as if she hadn't heard him and leave him to himself, or did she believe him and turn back around? It was tough, because she knew that he was probably merely being nice, but she did want to go and see him. When else was she going to get the chance to before she left?

Ugh, she was thinking about herself again. That... selfishness, it was so frustrating that her brain's default function seemed to be to think of herself, and it was something that only Evan Rosier could make her think twice about listening to. He was just about the only person in the world that she would be selfless for, to be honest, and it confused the hell out of her as to why. Honestly, she'd never cared that much about any of the other guys she'd dated, many of which she'd dated for much longer than a few short months. He was... there was something different about him, and she really wished she could tell what. Maybe if she could, she'd know what she was supposed to bloody do here.

Thankfully managing to betray most of her confusion, she sent him a small, nervous smile over her shoulder and shrugged lightly. "Don't worry about it," she told him. "I didn't mean to pry. Really, I don't mind leaving you alone."

Why did she have to make things so difficult? His hands began to fidget between his legs as he stared at the floor, listening to what she was saying. "Cecilia, do you really think I'm worried about what you would or wouldn't mind doing right now...?" He bit at the inside of his cheek before he turned to look in her direction again. "You don't have to go." Without saying it, he was asking her to do just the opposite. He looked pathetic, his multi-hued orbs practically pleading with her to stay with him as he connected them with her own large chestnut pools. This was exactly why he had to look away from her after a while, once again focused on the wooden floor beneath him. Even though he didn't have to be strong infront of her, he still felt like he did. She seemed to always catch him at his worst, and he was sick of seeing her when he was too tired or depressed to enjoy her company...but he wasn't sick of seeing her. He didn't see her nearly as much as he wanted to, and he would spend as much time with her as he could before she went back to school, even if the circumstances weren't ideal.

The moment his eyes met with hers, Cecilia stopped gauging how selfish it would be of her to stay. No, he was telling the truth... you couldn't fake that look. He looked bloody terrible, and for a second there just slightly desperate to convince her. Fuck fuck fuck, how absolutely unladylike did it look of her to throw her shoes to the ground and run over to throw her arms around him? Or better yet, did it matter? Not when she was clutching Evan to her this tightly, she decided. Cecilia breathed in deeply and buried her face in his hair, his scent washing over her senses like the most wonderful breath of fresh air she'd ever taken. She could have almost laughed at the momentary release that just this simple action gave her, it was like for this split second in time she felt right again.

But the truth was, things weren't right. It was evident in the way that her joy drained out of her so quickly and the memories of why she was even here came rushing back into her head. Cecilia took one more breath, and then relaxed her hold on him slightly. "Missed you," she mumbled against blonde locks.

He could have sworn that his own heart had stopped beating for a few moment as she held him so close to her. Just feeling her warmth as his own arms went to wrap around her waist was enough to make his throat tighten once again, temple pressed against her shoulder, relishing in how fucking good it felt to hold her again. His mind went blank and he became numb, peaceful even as he took in her perfume, but just as quickly as her momentary bliss faded away, so did his. He was forced to once again swallow roughly to clear his throat, his eyes shutting as she felt her breath against his neck when she spoke. "I missed you too..." Since her hold on him had loosened, he was able to pull back so that he could look up at her, his hands still at her waist as he pulled her closer, so she was standing between his legs. "I'm glad your here...even though it's hard to tell..." This would be the point where he would normally smirk and make it seem like it was all a joke, but he felt like he didn't have the will to even try right now. This wasn't a joke. This wasn't funny, and he couldn't even be sarcastic about it because that required too much effort.

She pulled back as well, enough to look at him, at his face... she regretted it instantly, feeling a pang in her chest at the pure depression weighing down upon his features. Merlin, if she had a way to make him not look like that, she'd pay that price in a second.

But as it were, all she had was herself, and she very much doubted there was going to be any easy way out of this for Evan. Nothing she herself could do for him, at least. He'd lost his mother, after all, and if the way Kalista spoke of the woman was any indicator, the Rosier siblings had been very close with her. Cecilia pondered for a moment on what it would be like to lose her own mother, but she had a feeling that it just didn't chalk up to what they were experiencing now--their bond seemed to go deeper than the one she and Eliza Hooke shared.

With all the will she had, she forced a small, sad smile onto her face and pushed his hair out of his eyes, a hand coming to rest on his cheek. "It's alright, I can tell..." What to say next? 'How are you faring' seemed a stupid question, as it was obvious the answer was far from positive. "Is there anything I can do?"

His eyes fell away from hers at her question. "You're about the millionth person who's asked me that exact question..." he started quietly before he looked back to her, his hand raising to cover her own on his cheek, taking it so that he could hold it, lacing his fingers with hers. "..but right now, you're the one person who can." He tugged down on her hand so that she was leaning over, enough for him to press his lips against her own. It was gentle, sweet, and soft, and it was enough to raise the hairs on his neck. It was enough to give him a momentary high. He needed to kiss her. He deserved some bit of happiness after everything he had gone through, and right now Cecilia was the only person who could give that to him. She was the only person he wanted to see, and he just needed her to kiss him. It wouldn't fix anything, and it wouldn't bring his mother back, but it was a distraction that he needed. The only thing that could raise his spirits right now was knowing that he still had her, and she was there with him.

When he began to speak, Cecilia felt a knot arise in her throat. She thought for sure that he was going to.. who knew, kick her out or something. She just--she had no idea what else she was supposed to--oh. It was then that he decided to finish his sentence, right when she was about to have an absolute heart attack. He shouldn't be allowed to do that, nor should he be allowed to kiss her so tantalizingly softly at a moment like this. When he pulled back, he had her leaning forward in a chase after his lips, gripping his hand tighter and pushing against his body until she was kissing him again, not forcefully, but satisfyingly. Her free hand pushed into the bed, creating a balance point that was necessary with the way that she was quickly deepening their contact. She was kissing him the way that she had needed to kiss him since she had realized that she was going to see him again, the way that made her heart flip and filled her up with his familiar presence until she was where she wanted to be--drowning in it.

His eyes closed tightly as she kissed him, his hand moving around her waist to hold her close as though she would be gone if he were to let go of her for a moment. Like she too would slip away from him. He had already lost his mother, he couldn't even begin to think about what would happen if for some reason Cecilia was gone as well. Flashes of the last few weeks ran through his mind as he kissed her, the pain and sorrow that ran through his body lingering on his lips as he moved them against her own, as though the kiss was some sort of a way for him to express how he was feeling at that very moment. A way for him to release what had been building up inside of him until now. The way he clung to her, and the way he kissed as though for some reason this could be the last time he did so. His stomach tied into knots as he shut his eyes tighter, fighting against the urge to let the tears that were building up behind them fall down his cheeks. That was the last thing he wanted, to cry infront of her, to let her know how fucking weak he felt. How weak he was right now. He had every right to be, but he wouldn't let it happen.

He couldn't...

Even if she had wanted to pull away, with the way that he was holding her and the pure emotion that was washing across her through his kiss... she could never. He felt desperate, like he'd never be able to do this again--in some way, she understood why he felt that way, but she would have rather not thought about it. It wasn't ever going to happen, anyway. She was never going to leave him like that, not if she could help it. The way she returned the kiss was reassuring, to tell him that, to tell him that no matter who he lost, or what happened, she was going to be there for him.

It was frightening, the intensity and conviction with which she felt for him, but it was also satisfying--like she had some sort of purpose for him, like she--this--all meant something more than a silly romantic fever. It was no longer just some superficial thing, and for the first time in her life, Cecilia was quite sure that she knew what it felt like to really care about someone other than herself. Not be sympathetic, or want to help someone, or something that came out of simple human instinct--this was so much deeper, so much more powerful. It was unreal, she thought amazedly as she let go of his hand, of the bed, to clutch onto him when she felt the quiet rumble of tears building up in his chest. Unreal.

He got a little worried as she let go of his hand, but allowed her to slip away from his grasp when he realized that she was staying right there. He was well aware of how needy he was being right now, like a child who found comfort in an old doll during a thunderstorm. When you held it closer to your chest, it was proof that you weren't alone, and for some reason it made you feel safe.

His free hand moved to slide the back of his knuckles down her cheek before those same slender digits were used to brush through her hair, his other arm still wrapped around her waist, his fingers gripping at the fabric of her dress as he continued to fight against his emotions..but appaently it was far too difficult for him to manage. He was too tired, and it was just...he was fooling himself thinking that he could hold himself together. It was actually starting to hurt him, feeling so many things at one time. Being glad to see her, being so dependant on her, feeling sad, depressed, alone, scared, empty, all at once, it was too much. He didn't even realize that it was happening, but even with his eyes shut so tight, a single drop of moisture escaped from the corner of his grey eye, falling in slow motion down his cheek as his chest swelled, taking a deep breath as he kissed her, hoping that she wouldn't notice. His throat felt so tight, and he was sure that if he even tried to talk right now it would make things so much worse.

Cecilia did notice. But if there was one thing that she'd been able to discover thoroughly during the length of their courtship, it was that Evan didn't like it when she saw him in a weakened state. Crying, in the eyes of men, tended to be the weakest one could get, and so while she wanted to break and acknowledge it, tell him that it wasn't something he had to hold back... she didn't want to break this moment. They didn't need to argue the way they had last time they'd seen each other. So maybe she wouldn't say anything about it at all. Maybe it would be better, she thought as her lips left his slowly and drifted, to silently kiss his cheek and brush the tear away, and then kiss him once more like it had been nothing. Because it was nothing, and he should know that. It was nothing, and he was no weaker to her for it, one tear or one hundred, and he deserved to cry.

The next time she pulled back from their kiss was minutes later when she was far spent, and with a deep breath, Cecilia rested her face in the crook of his neck, placing several soft, slow pecks on the skin there. In the quiet emotion of that moment, she felt like there was something she should say to express what she was feeling--words bubbled up in her throat, but she pushed them back down quickly. It was hardly the time to tell him that, and hardly something she expected in return. No, it wasn't the time.

The moment that her lips parted with his for the first time, his stomach dropped as he thought that she would say something...but she didn't. She didn't say a word, and he couldn't have been more relieved. He didn't know what he would say, and he was sure it would just end up with him standing up and walking away, not wanting to deal with the conversation that would surely follow. He didn't want to think about that, though. She was kissing him again and he sure as hell wasn't going to fight it.

As she pulled away for the second time, he hugged her close to him, he eyes staring passed her at the wall, blinking back a few more tears that wanted to fall, even though those feathery kisses to his neck weren't helping. He took in another deep breath himself before he exhaled it as a shakey sigh, having to close his eyes once more as he took in the scent of her hair. God, his chest felt so constricted, and just trying to breathe was difficult for him. He gently cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the tension that was there so that he could speak, but when he did it was barely audible. It didn't matter though, it was just something that needed to be said, and something that only she was meant to hear, even if she didn't understand why he was saying it.

"...thank you..."