she was a walking metaphor

“You better not be lying,” she spoke, and immediately went silent, not sure of how to finish that sentence. Truth be told, Ophelia was not capable of violence, it was not in her veins, and she would have gone only as far as pinching his ear. “Right. Do you have his snacks or something? It’d be easier that way.”

“I didn’t lose him on purpose. He ran out the front door. Bout ten minutes ago. Thought while I was out looking for him, you might wanna join. You gotta better sense of the world than I do.”

“We’ve gotta find Nemo, love.”

“You lost your dog?”

“Well I uh…. Have you ever seen the animated film: Finding Nemo by chance?”

@ophelia-brook

“..What did you do?”

She laid on her bed with her eyes half open and her soul half shut with exhaustion, chewing on her own darkness, choking on her own breath, lost, wondering, not knowing how to wake up or how to slip.

“I dunno. I mean, whenever is good for you. Just thought after the month we’ve had, we could get away for a short while.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

@ophelia-brook

“I’d say let’s go.” 

Sebastian didn’t get in. He waited, because when he was in these kinds of moods, he was stubborn. He was a stubborn asshole, and he had no clue how she put up with him. “Sorry.”

She felt heavy in her chest, and it made her tired, or perhaps it was because of the time. Darkness surrounding them she stood still, shoulders a bit slumped. For a second there she even debated the idea of simply walking away, going home by foot, but then guilt caught up to her and she walked to him instead. “I don’t know why you aren’t talking to me. Situations like this could be avoided if you did, if you told me what’s wrong. But you get stubborn, and you don’t, and I see something, but I can’t tell what it is, and I feel hopeless, because I can’t be there for you. And sometimes, sometimes I think you don’t want me to be.”

A cup of coffee, still hot, more than a half-full, barely touched, stained boldly with the deep brown on her lips. A careless habit of hers: starting something, putting her stamp on it, never finishing it, never intending to. She did it for the sole purpose of proving her own existence to herself and nothing more, her own mirroring.

She was a sufficient disaster, and she happened to him, resolutely, there was no chance of recovery after.

      “Wha- hey!” Iliya was ready to strike, hand on the person’s wrist but she stopped short.

“Oh, my god! I totally thought you were someone else, sorry.”

Sebastian got up, shoving the stool and flicking a few twenties at the bartender. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so there was no use in trying to make more of a scene. He started on his way out, turning back to see Fee lagging behind, and not by much. 

She clenched her teeth as his barked order, and her legs didn’t move. He won’t die during those couple of seconds that she’s going to stay inside, retrieving his phone. And when she did, she was ready to leave — and to give him a good smack. 

“I’m fine, Ophelia.” 

“No,” her muscles tensed at his words, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I am not leaving alone. You are going with me, Clausen.” Despite her serious tone, she did hide a slight tremble in her voice underneath a layer. It was never easy dealing with men who could easily burst into anger. “You are not fine, and we are going to talk through this, but first, you need to leave this place.”

Of course she knew he didn’t want a pug. But it was so cute. So ridiculously adorable, and she just couldn’t resist. “Sebastian Clausen, you are keeping the dog. Take it.” She basically placed the damn pug in his hands by force, and for a second went serious. “It’s cute, you are keeping it.” And then, a smile broke her lips again.

Sebastian opened up, raising his brows when he saw her. “I thought we agreed to no late night surprises.” He said with a wink. They never promised anything of the sort, he just liked busting her when he could. 

“Don’t recall doing that, move,” she almost ran inside, pushing him a little — because the puppy was way more important than anything else, obviously. She was hugging her stomach to hold it and once she felt it was safe and warm, Ophelia took out the pug out of her coat and raised it up. “Surprise!”