5 1/2 Temple Meadow - The Quiet Things | Rossian

"Then...then why are you doing this?"

He'd asked her that before. On the shores of the Black Lake, following his overdose. She'd tried to put distance between them then too, being certain that she was only a detriment to his well-being. Now, for a different reason, Rosalie felt similar. It wasn't some obnoxious belief that she rained on all his parades or brought the gloom in from every direction. Her family was no longer a threat. The ridiculous sneers from aristo circles were no longer relevant. There were no angry neighbors or coworkers, or even a baby's birth ahead of them, threatening more stress and tight times.

It was more that, she was afraid if she didn't remove herself, even just for a short time, Cassian would never find a reason to want to save himself, and she couldn't be the reason. It was too much pressure. Too much riding on her. She was his wife, so she should be able to bear it, shouldn't she?

And yet it felt too monumental in the moment. It was why she wanted his parents involved. So it didn't just have to all rely on her.

"We don't have to go back tonight then! We – we can go somewhere else. We'll find a place for the night – or for a few days. Whatever you want – wherever you want."

Her expression softened. It was all she wanted to do. For a moment, she actually considered it. She could apparate them away, to the beach like she had planned, or...to some little inn in the distant countryside. Maybe even one of the hotels they'd stayed in the first few nights when they'd run. Something to get them away from all of this.

But that would illegitimize everything she had said about running away.

"I wish we could, love," she said, and genuinely meant it. "I'd go anywhere with you, if I could." He understood now why she couldn't, right? Why backtracking on everything would only have made this all worthless and meaningless? Hell, maybe it already was. Maybe she'd already shattered him so completely that even if she stayed, he wouldn't trust her words.

And there it lay, her truest fear. That if she did leave, Cassian would never look at her the same way again. That maybe his love for her would change, or worse, disappear altogether. That maybe he'd resent her or never believe her when he told him she loved him. She was only meaning a short time. Just enough time for them to cool off and maybe get some perspective and -

"Then why does it feel like it is? You said you don't want to leave, so why are you doing it anyway? You don't have to do this."

"It's not." She shook her head. "I married you because I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. But I don't want the rest of our lives to look like this. I want us to be happy and healthy. When we have our family, I want us to be good parents. I want us to be good to each other and not feel like we're hiding from one another or dancing around things." She released one of his wrists to run her hand along the side of his face.

"You believe me?" She searched his eyes, needing to know that he believed her. "You're my everything," she said, her composure long gone, and she didn't try to pull for it anymore. "Just a little bit of time and we'll come back to each other."

"I wish we could, love. I'd go anywhere with you, if I could."

"But you can," he said, the desperation creeping its way into his voice once more. "My parents will be fine. We'll write them so they don't worry. There's...there's nothing stopping us." A part of him understood. She couldn't go if she wanted to stick to what she'd said. She couldn't take his hand again and disappear into the night, off to find a place that wasn't so loud and imposing. But why would she want to keep that resolve? Why was it so important that she left? Cass had meant it when he said he didn't think it'd help. She'd leave so he could focus on himself, but he would spend the time worrying over her and when she would be back.

Would it only be a day? A week? A month? Would she be taking care of herself in that time or falling back into bad habits where he couldn't see and wouldn't be able to help? Who would she meet in his absence? Would she find them easier to love? Easier to build healthy relationships with? How would he know when enough time had passed? Would she come find him? Was he allowed to go find her? Would they even see each other?

The more he thought about Rosie's proposal, the more ill he felt. It didn't sound like the sort of thing he could endure let alone survive. They'd spent summers at the facility together since they'd met that fateful summer. On the few summers they hadn't been able to see each other, they'd written and he'd broken into her family's castle to see her. At school, they'd always been together. None of it was ever really separation, not in the way it sounded like she was trying to mean now.

"It's not. I married you because I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. But I don't want the rest of our lives to look like this. I want us to be happy and healthy. When we have our family, I want us to be good parents. I want us to be good to each other and not feel like we're hiding from one another or dancing around things."

He...he could do those things now. Being with Rosie was enough to make him happy. He hated his job but had been stopping by the theatre recently. Healthy...healthy was in the works. The cravings were getting a little intense – as he knew they would – but he'd already committed to holding out in every way he could. It was hard to see how separating would make him treat Rosie better or how it might make him a better parent. His wife kept providing him examples and arguments, but he kept getting lost in the application.

"You believe me?"

He wanted to take comfort in the hand at his cheek, but his body had already moved into open revolt. His heart pounded with rhythmic melancholy; his limbs felt heavy. A lump developed in the back of his throat, one he found hard to dislodge. Did he believe her? Did he think this really was a short while and not the beginning of some monumental split that she was trying to ease him into?

"I...I don't know."

They'd been down this road before, a few times actually. Each time, it was because Rosie had grown weary in her struggle and didn't think they could continue the way they were. One way or another, they'd always come out the other side, avoiding the worst of it, but what if his luck had finally run out? It was always the same. She would express her pain; he would pour out his soul, and then she would relent. That, he realised, also hadn't been fair to her. Each time his wife had needed a break, his own panic had overridden the choice, and now they'd arrived at the same crossroads again, and she was telling him that no matter how much she wanted to stay, she...couldn't.

Was it right for him to keep pushing? Rosie was telling him what she needed, what she wanted, and how she hoped things could be. Day in and day out, he told her that he loved her. When had love become so selfish? When had it become okay to ask her to give up her own needs on behalf of his? He'd already asked enough of her, hadn't he?

Cass reached up to wipe at his left eye when the tears threatened to spill over.

Just a little bit of time.

He drew in a shaky breath, realising it was the very least he could do. If she did need the time, then...then she needed it and he could support that. "How long?"

"My parents will be fine. We'll write them so they don't worry. There's...there's nothing stopping us."

Except everything. Rosalie couldn't run away this time. It had nothing to do with his parents or worrying them. It had nothing to do with their families or what anyone would think. It wasn't a matter of money - though they didn't have much - it wasn't a matter of logistics. Every time Cass and Rosie had run away, it was to escape the idea that they didn't belong together. The first time they'd run, it had been following Julia's reveal that she was going to tell the rest of the family about them and force their breakup.

The next....had been to make their dreams come true. To escape whatever plans their families had decided on for them and make their own way in the world. They'd been idealistic, in love, completely wrapped up in the romance of it all. Them against the world. Written in the stars.

Until the entire world had crushed in on them and hadn't relented since.

Running this time would only cement in Cassian's mind that it truly was the answer, and Rosie didn't want to live by that idea anymore. She wanted him present with her, willing to walk through every fire, willing to talk about the hard things without having it yanked out of him. She wanted to be able to trust him and not worry about what their future looked like. It wasn't fair to Cassian to keep asking him to do the hard work for her, if he wasn't even willing to do it for himself yet.

"I can't, Cassian." She'd watched him suffer stab wounds. She'd watched him toil away in glass and heat, becoming a shell of himself. She'd watched him wither, day by day, becoming less recognizable as stress and fatigue wore him down from the bright-eyed boy she'd walked down the aisle to. She'd watched him fumble when he found out he was going to be a father. Watched the terror in his eyes when she'd woken up from the hospital after she'd been attacked. She'd watched as realization and horror swept over him when he'd rushed into their apartment and found her father and uncle waiting for him.

Running away had never brought anything but misery to Cassian's life. She couldn't do it again.

"I...I don't know."

There was nothing that could have shattered her heart more thoroughly in the moment than if he'd said he hated her. He didn't know if he believed her. When...when had she ever given him a reason not to? Rosalie pulled away as he wiped the tears from his eyes, unable to stop the stream that poured from hers. What had she done to make him distrust her? To question the sincerity of her words?

It hurt like a knife to the chest. A cold puncture that stole her breath and rocked the ground beneath her. She didn't want this. She didn't want any of this. The realization that...asking for a little time to gather her bearings and not be breathing down his neck, equated to a betrayal for him. If he didn't believe her that this wasn't the end, would he believe her when she tried to come back? Would he believe her when she told him she loved him?

Would he hate her? Rosalie didn't want to imagine a world where Cassian could look at her the same way he looked at others. She didn't want to come back and have to fight tooth and nail to prove her love to him or that she'd meant what she said about this not being 'over'.

But they were past that now, weren't they? She'd already said it.

She'd have to lay in the bed she made. It hurt, more than she could fathom at the moment. Love for Rosie had never been unconditional. Her parents' love lay in her obedience. Her family's love lay in what she represented. Love that came from certain friends relied on her following the status quo, or being a little sheep in the fold.

Only Cassian's love had ever felt unconditional. He had been the one place that she'd felt free with her heart and words, knowing that no matter what happened, he would still be there. This was the first time it had ever felt...different, and it gutted her in ways she couldn't express.

"How long?"

How long. She didn't know. A few days maybe? A few weeks? The idea of being away from him at all sickened her but...

"Enough time for both of us to start feeling better, I guess." However long that was. "I don't know." She wiped at her face, taking a slow breath to try and finally gather her bearings. "I'll take my notebook so we can still talk if you want to. I'll wait for you to write me. And... I'll try and see if Julia and Maddox will let me stay with them. If not..." she trailed off a moment, "I guess I'll go back home." Arundel. The place she'd thought she'd never step foot in again.

She looked at him again. "I love you," she said, almost desperately.

There was that word again.

Can't.

She couldn't run with him, couldn't find somewhere less overwhelming for them to talk, and couldn't abscond with him into the night the way they'd always done when everything felt too big. It hadn't been the most effective, he could admit. Each time, they'd only managed to find trouble for themselves. It was as if life itself waited in the wings, eager for them to step out from the protection of the real adults in their lives so it could thoroughly destroy them. But this wasn't the same. At least, it didn't feel the same. Cass wasn't asking her to forsake everything she knew and let him take care of her again. Frankly, he didn't think any faith remained in her that he could, and the boy couldn't blame her.

Under his roof, they'd lived in poverty before being hunted. Under his roof, they'd lost their baby.

He wasn't asking her to let him give her a new roof with new problems. She'd said she couldn't go back to the house, and he'd thought it perfectly reasonable that they go somewhere else instead. Whatever would stop the separation. Whatever kept her close to avoid a full system malfunction.

But she couldn't, and he'd already told himself that, as the husband who loved her, it was his duty to respect that. There was no point in whisking her somewhere she didn't want to be, and if she really didn't think leaving together was something she wanted, who was he to tell her otherwise? Despite being her husband and having tried to take on the role of both protector and provider, Cassian had never been interested in domination. There wasn't a power struggle by any means, but it wasn't because of any iron fist or executive decision-making on his part. In many ways, he and his wife were partners, and while he tried to make the tougher calls, he'd never wanted to be like the father who'd tried to control every aspect of her life.

His parents' house was neither a prison nor a cage, and he'd be damned if he started making it feel that way.

Cassian watched a new, deeper hurt creep onto her expression, though he couldn't understand why. She'd asked a question, and he'd answered it honestly. He didn't know what a little while meant, nor did he know whether it really would be a brief period. It felt like every question he'd asked Rosie had been met with more uncertainty and not knowing on her part. Why should this be the one thing that she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to be true? Why was this the promise that would hold when, days earlier, she'd kissed him, thanked him for staying, and told him she wouldn't be going anywhere?

"Enough time for both of us to start feeling better, I guess. I don't know."

And there it was; she didn't know. Again.

Rosie had promised a little while without knowing what a little while actually stood for. She wanted them separated and had tried to insist it was for the best. She'd asked whether he believed her before telling him that even she couldn't be sure of what she was promising. Enough time for them to both start feeling better. What happened if she never felt better? Would it drag on for months? Years? What if he never got comfortable in her absence and never felt better either? What even was better, and why did it sound like they were headed for some ungodly purgatory? Was never using again the solution? Only using when the world grew more overwhelming than he could possibly hold? Never having urges? Thinking it was good that she left?

Where were the margins?

Cassian deflated visibly as she let him go. This sounded far less like a predetermined break and more like a 'let's see what happens.' And she was okay with it, okay enough to see it through.

"I'll take my notebook so we can still talk if you want to. I'll wait for you to write me. And... I'll try and see if Julia and Maddox will let me stay with them. If not... I guess I'll go back home."

Cass nodded, not sure he could trust himself with words in the immediate aftermath. It wasn't because he worried he might say something regrettable—as had been the case with his mother--but that he didn't trust his voice to remain strong while he tried to prove to himself that he could love her enough to let her go.

They'd always written when separated in the past. This...this didn't feel like that. Already it felt distant, sterile. The night had given him many aches, and the only thing on offer was words on a page, and only after he'd managed to put his own feelings into words on a page. Cassian nodded again, indicating he was following along with what she said. Julia's and Maddox's, otherwise Arundel. He may have been more concerned about the latter had he not heard about the trials and the fact that the men responsible for a portion of their misery were now in Azkaban.

"I love you."

It was enough to bring fresh tears, but he managed to blink them away as he pulled her to him again and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, too," he whispered back. When he eased away, the boy drew for all the composure he could. "Need me to follow you over? Make sure you get there safe?"

“I love you, too.”

Simple words that normally sent a flurry of warmth rushing through her veins, now crushed her from the inside out. She cried harder as Cassian pulled her back into him and kissed her head, while her arms wrapped tightly around his middle. She held him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, begging him not to forget she had been there. The warm scent of cinnamon invaded her senses, almost cruelly, as she nestled her face against his chest, listening to the sporadic thumping of his heart.

What was she thinking? How would she manage day in and day out without Cassian’s arms to hold her? Without his warmth, his smiles and those eyes that always told her everything would be alright? How would she function without her home? Without his love to keep her steady and calm when everything felt overwhelming?

For a moment, she wanted to take it all back. She wanted to insist she had only been scared, that she hadn’t meant anything she said and they could go upstairs and comfort each other for the rest of the night. She wanted to curl into him in his bed, and fall asleep with him wrapped around her.

It had always been her and Cassian against the world and now….it had to just be her?

Her arms tightened around him when he began to pull away, “Wait.” Her voice broke as she held him a little longer, needing to memorize the shape of him and how he felt against her. What would she do if after however much time passed, he decided he didn’t want this anymore? What if he met a new girl? What if she was kind and sweet and made him promises to never leave? How would she ever repair her heart and find a way to move on?

Could she, if she tried? She…didn’t know.

Her fingertips ran along his spine, before she finally let him pull away. An ache formed in the hollow where he’d just been, and it took all of what was left of her composure not to pull him back into her.

"Need me to follow you over? Make sure you get there safe?"

Even in their hardest moments, he was still endearingly sweet and attentive. Rosalie leaned in to kiss him, a quick capture of his lips with hers. She nodded, unable to form the words that she desperately wanted to, the lump in her throat so large she couldn’t make a sound if she tried.

She….she needed to go gather her clothes. It was already getting late and she didn’t want to wake up the Barlowe house with her unexpected arrival.