Cry or Cut, Like Kiss or Kill [XV]

I hear a knock at my door as I finish putting away my clean clothes.

"Come in," I call and watch to see Lindsay come in with a smile on her face.

"How was last night?" she asks cheerfully. My head hurts, but I ignore it so that I can escape the loneliness.

"Alright. I don't think I'll ever drink again, but it was okay," I share. She nudges me playfully, suspicion covering her face.

"What did you two do when you got back?" she asks with equal curiosity.

Thoughts of what happen cross my mind and I consider telling her, gushing about what Ziven had said to me this morning and how we kissed, but then I remember everything else. He left me soon after he woke. He dressed and said he had to go speak with their father about something or another.

"We went to bed. I was so drunk, Lindsay, I should have been arrested."

"Oh," she sighs, disappointed.

"What's your brother doing, anyhow? He just said he had a meeting with your dad," I change the subject. It was getting awkward, and the more we dwelled on what didn't happen, the more I realize how much I wish it had happened. In my eyes, I'm a virgin. I never gave myself to anyone and I still can. I have these feelings for Ziven that I think are pure. I think.

"They're all discussing some legal mumbo-jumbo. Ziven's inheriting the crown, and our father's getting older, so they need to figure out their plan soon. Technically or father is supposed to die or have a life-threatening illness, but they found some clause somewhere so it can happen sooner…"

My mouth is gaping like a fish. Never in the time that I have spent here have I ever heard of Ziven inheriting anything. Ever.

"What?" Lindsay asks uncomfortably.

"Ziven will be king?" I ask slowly. She smiles awkwardly and nods.

"He didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Well, yes. Bradley became ineligible to inherit when he married Elizabeth and Gregory just really doesn't want it. Then there's Rachel. She's still a bit torn up about everything that's happened to her and would rather pass on it. And of course, there's me. I just never liked all of that business stuff, so I'd be the worst of all to choose for the job," she explains.

"So Ziven is going to be king?"

"I just said that…"

"He's going to be king?"

"Yes," she reiterates.

"Figures," I groan.

"What's that supposed to---" she's cut off by another knock at my door. Before rising to get it, she gives me a look that clearly says "this isn't over".

"Oh. Hey Lindsay," the unmistakable voice of Ziven says. I inwardly groan and fall on to my back against the hard floor. Nothing but bad news can come from him being here, I can tell by the way he sounds.

"I was just leaving," his sister mumbles and does as she says.

"Eira?" he calls softly. I hear him carefully close my door and take a few steps toward me.

"What?" I demand callously. All of this news and wondering has put me in a rather foul mood. With my eyes firmly closed, I think of what I want him to say, of what I want him to do.

I want him to come in and tell me how much he loves me. I want him to tell me he told his parents he would never in a million years be with Aubrey. I want him to pin me against the wall and kiss me so passionately I can't think straight. I want to be able to tell him that I think I love him and not have to regret it.

"I have something to tell you," he informs me, seeming to have totally ignored my bitterness, and sits beside me on the floor. Without opening my eyes I can sense he's watching me, surely my aggravation is clearly displayed on my face. "Come on," he sighs weakly, "you're supposed to be my friend."

The way the title of friend just rolled off his tongue so easily is almost enough to make my heart break. But not quite. I mean, what are we really? He took me in out of shame. There's no way any true feelings of love could spawn from that. I'm damaged; no one in their right mind buys damaged goods.

This is insane. Of course he'll pick awful Aubrey over me. He'd have to be a complete idiot not to, and Ziven is not an idiot.

"I'm sorry," I breathe, finally realizing that I'm out of line, and sit up. Together we scoot across the floor to lean against my bed and look up out the window.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," he declares, as if I should understand everything I need to know from those few words. "Would you stay here? For me?"

"Maybe," I reply ambiguously. In reality, it depends. If I find I'm desperately in love with him, I might not be able to make it through weeks on end seeing him with another woman and raising a family. There's no possible way to comprehend how my emotions will affect me after he moves on. Right now, we're still young. He's still young, but I could never be a mistress---if he even wanted me as one. My father was unfaithful to my mother with his habits. Every night he cheated on her with alcohol and drunken splendor. I despise people that could so heartlessly toss away people that love and admire them, people that need them, because they aren't happy. Those people are selfish bastards and I could never be one and I could never cause someone else to be one. Never.

"What does that mean?" he whines, turning his head to gaze at me. I still refuse to look at him. I'm ashamed of my thoughts and feelings, and embarrassed by last night.

"It means I don't know, Ziven. It means I don't know if I can live like this. I feel trapped and useless, and I… I can't seem to let go of…" us, I want to shout hopelessly, but can't.

"Oh."

"Not that I could ever leave you for good, though. We're best friends, after all," I assure him, finally having enough courage to look him in the eye. He's so perfect…

"Right, right. Of course… I understand. I just…" he trails off. There's something he wants to say, something he wishes I'd said, but didn't. "I've agreed to marry Aubrey," he states blankly. To me it seems like it was something he just decided upon the second he said it. Perhaps if I had said something else, he would have changed his mind.

This time it's me that returns with a breathless, "Oh."

"You know, I don't really like her or anything," he tries to assure me. "I'm only doing it because it's what's best for the kingdom. Political bull shit and all… She offers stability for me, my duties will never be disrupted by feelings or worries or anything like that. I'm sure I'll never know if my, uh, kids are mine or anything, but I don't think it would be wise to subject myself to emotions," he spits like it's a dirty word, as if that's justification enough. And it is. Sort of.

"Maybe you'll learn to love her…"

"You said that."

"I did?" I ask, more for myself. Remembering that I have, in fact, stated that they could be good for each other, I shut up. "I did."

"Yeah… Eira, I'm sorry. I'm so irrevocably sorry for everything and I wish that I could have stopped this. I wish that we had never met. Like this, I mean," he adds the last part quickly; to assure me that he's happy we've become friends, but is saddened that he could have prevented everything that's happened to me.

"It's all in the past; you can't change it, no one can. Don't beat yourself up over it, I forgive you…"

"Why?" is all he asks.

Gulping, I gaze into his beautiful green eyes and search them for something, but I don't know what. All I see is pain and regret and guilt and sorrow. He knows that his actions broke me and killed my family and hates himself for it. I can see that he wants things to be different, and I think I see that he wants our relationship to be something else.

"Because you're you. You're sweet and kind and perfect. You didn't mean for anyone to get hurt, Ziven. And now I know you. Through all of this, I'm finding myself and I've found you. You're my best friend, something I've never had, and I couldn't be happier about that. It hurts when I think about what could have been, but this is what is, and it's really fucked up, but I'm okay with it. As long as I'm breathing, I have the greatest gift anyone could ask for. Don't hate yourself when there's more to live for. For me," I sputter like a fountain of knowledge. I didn't even know I felt those things until they came out of my mouth, but they're all true. Except the word friend. That word cuts me like a knife every time. I want more than that.

"You know I can't," he whispers, covering his head with his hands and ducking into his knees.

"But you will, because I'm making you," I tell him. He groans and I lean into him with a hug. "You're going to be a fantastic king, and even though Aubrey won't appreciate it at all, you're going to be a fantastic husband."

Ziven sits up and wraps both of his arms around me, pulling me closer to him so I'm almost on top of his stretched out legs. He buries his face in my hair and breathes in and out deeply. His touch makes my heart race and my skin tingle with desire and comfort, and the way he holds me so gently it's protective and affectionate makes me realize I love him. I love him. I love him.

"I…" he starts and backs away from me, carefully pushing me off of him. He rises to his knees and looks down at me as I sit awkwardly awaiting his next words. He's beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful. "Eira… I love you," he breathes.

We blink at each other for a mere second before he leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. While my eyes are still closed, absorbing the shock and awe of the situation, he curtly rises and leaves my room, closing the door behind him.