#m;bwb

@rosexpark​

it might not be the best idea to go seaside in the winter, but it’s unexpected and it’s new. it’s a novel thing. not only that, but it was farther away from their sprawling property in gloucestershire. it was warmer there, to be sure, although only slightly, and they had elves to clean up after them. the east sussex property was far more modest, and required him to renew the flickering warmth spell every few hours. it seemed stupid on the outset. 

still, woobin wanted somewhere a bit further away. the neighbours would not bother them and there would certainly be no awkward walk-ins. no distance, no intervening roommates or well-meaning elves looking to clean the room after them. this wasn’t their summer home, either; that was in a slightly colder part of the country, and not as modest. some distant cousin or another was occupying it, if he remembered correctly; he didn’t mind at all.

it was more personal this way, when woobin poured wine for the both of them in front of a crackling flame. the ocean beat against the shore and nothing could have seemed more romantic. it was certainly better than the stillness of winter in their homes. there was music and there was a fire and there was wine, and comfortable cushions, and soft sheets for the bed.

what better way to greet the new year?

@rosexpark

the midnight bell tolls with no lover in sight. but wouldn’t call her his lover, not really; she’s still a kid to him, still someone who’s bound not by will but by duty. it’s the difference between a cage and an open field, and woobin respects her enough to give her the benefit of the doubt. surely, she doesn’t also believe that they must be together because their parents told them to? it’s not the middle ages anymore, no matter how much the architecture might make it seem so. there’s a lot that can be done, too many loopholes, and he’s sure he’ll see it if his parents will actually let him have the document that’s supposed to dictate the rest of his life. it’s ruined his prospects before, and a dance with a past too-often-remembered makes the wound seem all the more deeper.

but he respects rose enough to escort her back to her room. it’s common courtesy, and it’s not like he went just to dance with everyone else but her. she still owes him a dance, and midnight – and the announcement that the party will come to a close soon (the dwindling numbers could’ve told him that!) – comes too fast. he must’ve spent more time with his Past than he realised. now his stomach is in his throat and it feels like either bile or butterbeer has made some crazy, sickening mixture at the back of his mouth. he swallows it just when he sees her, and in a worse state than he could have expected.

it would’ve been fine if she was surrounded by boys. those she could fend off. it would’ve been fine, even, if she was nursing a twisted ankle, or had a broken heel. all that can be fixed.