#nothingtoseehere

Oh, a ‘Tickle Mafia’ account. Interesting choice.

Right up there with calling it the ‘Featherstein files’ when someone came forward.

Nothing says ‘this isn’t real’ like branding it in real time.

All of this, because someone said they were hurt.

Oh, please. This is utter nonsense. I am more than capable of recognizing romantic behavior when I see it, and I can assure you—without a shadow of a doubt—that whatever you perceive between Eredin and me is entirely normal, platonic, and not at all indicative of anything beyond a well-established working relationship between two scribes.

Yes, I do ensure he eats proper meals because he would otherwise survive solely on hot cocoa and sheer willpower.

Yes, I do notice when he is anxious and place his favorite quill near him to soothe him—and, if he is particularly distressed, I will also place a cup of his favorite tea beside it, and perhaps murmur some reassurance, and maybe place a gentle hand on his shoulder. But that is simply efficiency! A calm scribe is a productive scribe!

Yes, I do carry a spare cloak for him in case he forgets his own and it grows cold, and, on one occasion, I may have also draped it over his shoulders myself because he was too distracted writing to notice the chill. And perhaps I pulled it snug around him and murmured, "You’ll catch cold, dearest," but that is just common sense! Nothing unusual about it!

And, fine, I have—on occasion—pressed a hand to his forehead to check for fever because he looked too pale. And perhaps I did also brush his curls aside when doing so, and perhaps I did also frown and tell him, "You worry me," in an uncharacteristically soft tone, but that is merely responsible coworker behavior. A good superior! A caring friend! Nothing more!

And yes, perhaps I once found him asleep at his desk and—out of sheer practicality, mind you—decided to carefully lift him, carry him to a proper bed, and tuck him in because sleeping upright is bad for one's spine! And perhaps I also lingered for a moment to make sure he was comfortable, and perhaps I also brushed a curl from his cheek, and perhaps I whispered, "Sleep well, Eredin," in a tone that one might technically classify as fond, but that is entirely beside the point.

And yes, fine, if you absolutely must know, I did once notice he was cold and—again, purely out of practicality—pulled him into my arms to share warmth. And perhaps he did sigh against my shoulder, and perhaps I did rest my chin atop his head, and perhaps we did stay like that for an extended period of time because it was the most logical way to maintain body heat. But that is all it was! A tactical decision! Nothing more!

And if anyone says otherwise, they are deeply mistaken, and I will be forced to present an exhaustive scholarly rebuttal, complete with annotated sources, footnotes, and a sternly worded preface.

Now, if you will excuse me, Eredin has requested my assistance in selecting new earrings, and I must ensure that he picks a pair that complements his eyes, enhances his bone structure, and subtly matches his favorite tunic.

Because they really were and we can forgive each other missteps in life with that context.

It never occured to me to apply the same logic to myself when feeling like I'm failing.

And maybe i should.