Arundel Castle - Haunted || Cass/Rosie

Thursday, December 23, 1920
Arundel Castle
7PM

The world hadn't stopped spinning.

It had been hours since his...since she...

He couldn't think straight. He couldn't breathe. Up had become down, right had become left. Cassian felt like he was losing his mind in a manner not far off from when Miss Laurence had made it clear he was likely to die. The boy had only just begun to settle after that news. Time and the apparent absence of danger had been enough to calm many of the nerves that had begun to fray. Cass had been able to look at Rosie without seeing his untimely end creeping in. The nightmares had dimmed to a manageable degree, allowing him to find a new equilibrium.

He'd needed that time. Cassian had needed the quiet and the space to think and had gotten it. Already, there were plans in place. The boy had started reading up on old tomes, and all the texts he could find. He'd taken a special interest in wards and blood magic. He was looking into locations. Rosie was working on her wandless magic, and they were looking into many of them together.

After the initial bump, it felt like just maybe they were a team again. They didn't think up any hair-brained schemes to run; there was no need. The surveillance charm was already gone, and that had given them plenty of space

All of that progress...and now it felt like it was all going down the drain. He felt like he was going down the drain, being pulled under by a swirling tide he couldn't see but could feel.

Cassian waited until dinner was done.

He waited for his parents to lock themselves away, going back and forth in their poorly contained shouting match. They'd been at it from the moment 'she' had arrived. It was a miracle dinner had been as civil as it had been, but it didn't take long for them to get right back into it.

In all the new chaos, no one noticed the boy slip out of the house. He walked the now familiar path to the back alleyway that led to Diagon Alley and from there took the floo station to the village. Without Freddie, the walk up to the castle seemed twice as long, but he never noticed, not really. His mind was a wild torrent of confusing thoughts and things he didn't understand. With his enchanted notebook tucked beneath his arm, Cassian made the lonely trek, seeking out the only source of comfort he knew. Rosie was the grounding force in his life, even with the strain that had developed between them. If not her, then no one would be able to bring him down from this.

When he got to the gate, he stopped.

The daring and nerve that had seen him scale the walls during the summer were absent now. They would kill him. It was no longer a joke shared between rebellious teens surrounding the overreaction of adults. They would actually kill him.

Leaning against the wall, he cracked the book open and wrote.

I'm outside the gate. Come meet me?

The beautiful thing about the holidays - besides the festivities themselves - were how early the big family dinners ended. Ordinarily, they ran late into the evenings, but with the promise of games and traditions, everyone was always eager to get the food done as quick as possible.

She always thought it was the one endearing thing about her family - how much they enjoyed each other's company, and looked forward to the card games, the jokes and laughing until their sides hurt. It was a softer part of them that Rosie had a difficult time reconciling with everything else she knew about them. It kept her love tethered to them, if even by the thinnest thread. Despite everything and knowing what she did and what they would do if they felt it necessary.

It was the holidays that always made her wonder if maybe one day, they could always be like this? If the intrigues and politics and prejudices could be forgotten and they could just be a normal family? Maybe, she had told herself, one day. When Benji was in charge. She had hope for her younger cousin - that he wouldn't follow the status quo. She hoped not anyway. For Kate, Adira and Claire's sake.

Dressed in a long, formal dark green dress with black tassels hanging from the sleeves, and gold beading across it, Rosie wandered from the dining room, back to her room for the night. Her father had excused her from the nightly games after she'd explained she had a few assignments she needed to work on before Christmas Eve and Day, telling her not to stay up too late.

Tomorrow morning they'd be heading down to Arundel village to do walk-abouts and give out little gifts of gloves and scarves to anyone who needed them. It was nice, in theory. If one didn't think too hard about what her family actually thought about the muggles they'd be interacting with.

All for the show and goodwill, she supposed.

The girl sat down at her vanity, ready to take the pins out of her hair, when her notebook grew warm under her elbows that rested on it. Quickly opening it to read Cassian's message, she froze, her eyes reading the words over and over.

The...gate...? He was here? Rosie rushed to the window, straining to see the front gates, but couldn't see him anywhere. Her mind raced - he'd snuck out again, after how his father had punished him for doing so over the summer. It had to mean that something was wrong. He wouldn't just show up like this for nothing. At least she didn't think he would. He knew now what her family would do to him; to both of them.

Come to the far west wall

She hurried to her wardrobe, grabbing her coat and throwing it on over her dress. Carefully, Rosie rushed down the corridors, eyes constantly moving for any sign of a family member or a tattling house elf, thankful they all seemed occupied with game night. When she'd escaped the library into the cherry orchard, she rushed towards the lowest wall, not willing to risk the guards seeing her trying to slip out the gates. Cursing that she hadn't thought to change into boots, Rosie hiked her dress up above her knees as she tossed her heels over the wall, and jumped, launching herself over it in a very unladylike fashion.

She slipped her shoes on, just as Cassian came to view and she rushed to him, her arms immediately wrapping around him. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes searching his, as she brushed a few curls from his forehead. "Are you alright?" She glanced over her shoulder back towards the main gate, and pulled him further away, back towards the road that led to the village.

She wasn't risking anyone seeing them.

The far west wall. In the state he was in, he didn't know whether he knew where that was. Which way was west? The sun had already set, and he couldn't say the direction it had gone. There was nothing left but a sky full of stars and a full moon that hung ominously low. It didn't matter; he started walking. Cassian felt his feet moving, one ahead of the other, without telling them to. They were driven by a primal need that went beyond his understanding. With his mind still somewhere up in the heavens, the rest of him ran on autopilot. They searched for home.

Then he saw her.

Rosie came into view as he hit a patch of lower wall. Immediately, she set his insides on fire despite the cold that crept through him. Unlike his girlfriend, Cassian hadn't dressed for the weather at all. The boy had on enough to stave off the biting effects of hypothermia but not enough to prevent the involuntary shivers that shot through him. Those shivers died down as she wrapped her arms around him, replaced by tremors of adrenaline that shook him.

He was falling apart at the seams, only just managing to keep himself together enough not to be an absolute mess from the moment he saw her.

"What are you doing here?"

"I didn't know where else to go," he confessed, his voice low and uncertain. Cassian wasn't stupid. He knew very well how dangerous the trip had been. It didn't matter how mad his father would've gotten--if he would ever notice. The danger was far worse than being forced to sit in the man's office and lose his notebook privileges. All it took was the wrong person spotting them for this pre-Christmas to take on a dark turn...well, darker than it already was.

Cass let her pull him back toward the road, barely keeping up as it was.

"She's...she's not dead. Fuck. Rosie. She's not dead."

It was all he managed before launching into a frenzied pacing in circles around her. The sentence was so simple, yet the truth of it had managed to upend his entire world. It didn't make sense, none of it did. "Why would he...? What reason did he have...?"

Was it even his father's fault?

If she was alive the whole time...why hadn't she ever come back? So many summers, so many Christmases...all his birthdays....Justine's birthdays--Adam's! She never turned up for a single one.

Why?

The family had fallen into a state of ruin after she'd left. She could've stopped it. Things didn't have to turn out the way they had. So much...so much could've been different.

"I can't breathe."

He was shaking. She could feel his tremors as she held him against her, unable to tell if it was from the cold or the stress she could see all over his face.

"I didn't know where else to go."

"Okay," she said softly, nodding with understanding, her heart warming slightly. Whatever was wrong, whatever was happening, he came to her. They were still connected, despite the strain between them that had developed over the past few months. She'd cast a warming charm on him if it wouldn't notify the whole of the wizarding government and her family, so the best she could was try to get him inside somewhere.

The old grooms' house. Empty and far enough out near the menagerie that no one ever ventured there. She could get him inside without anyone noticing. It wasn't a place Fidèle would ever go, and they would have as much privacy as they needed until the early morning. As long as she showed up on time for the walk-about, no one would come looking for her.

"She's...she's not dead. Fuck. Rosie. She's not dead."

What? Who? Rosie's eyebrows came together as they stepped off the main road, now comfortably far enough from any eyes. "What do you mean?" she tried to ask, but he began pacing circles around her, the most frantic she had ever seen him - and that was saying a lot. Who wasn't dead? Her mind raced quickly - had someone they known almost died, or had they thought someone was dead?

"Why would he...? What reason did he have...? I can't breathe."

He wasn't making sense, but maybe he didn't need to in this moment. She could recognize a panic attack when she saw one; he was spiraling faster than he was pacing now.

"Alright baby," she said gently, stopping him firmly from pacing and cupping his face with both of her hands, forcing him to look at her. "You can breathe." She nodded at him, urging him to do the same so she could get him to focus. Her thumbs softly traced the outline of his temples, reassuring him that she was here, that whatever had happened - whoever wasn't dead - would be alright. They'd figure it out, together, like they always did.

"There's an old house at the end of the property. No one ever goes there; we'll be completely safe. You can tell me everything there, and I'll get you warmed up. Okay?"

In truth, he couldn't hear her. Vaguely, Cassian was aware of the sound of Rosie's voice and the direction it was coming from at any given point, but what the actual words were was a mystery too profound for his faltering faculties. She made noises aimed at him, and the boy continued circling. He would create a rut if he kept at it, his feet driving him faster and faster while his mind clawed desperately for some grounding force to bring it back down.

She shouldn't have been alive.

Cassian could still remember the memorial service. His sister had cried herself into the sort of fit that had required medical assistance. His brother had held his hand, a stony pillar at the front of the church, who never uttered a word. Adam's eyes had been red, the evidence of his own tears he'd concealed from the wider crowd. Cass remembered the grief. Even more, he remembered the confusion. He hadn't comprehended at the time what they'd been doing or why everyone had been in such solemn moods. He hadn't been able to understand why his mother no longer came home, no matter how earnestly he waited for her by the front door.

None of her family had shown up either. Once the understanding of what that whole ceremony was about was finally provided, he remembered thinking it strange that none of them would've wanted to say their final goodbyes. Not her parents, who were alive and well, not her brothers or sister. The woman had many cousins. None of them had been there.

There had been no explanation for that, but now it was all making sense.

Should he have seen it sooner? Why hadn't he? Why had he accepted it so easily and without question? Unfair as the accusation he laid against himself happened to be, there was a part of the boy who blamed himself for falling so easily into the deceit.

He should've known. Even at seven, he should've known something.

"Alright baby."

Her hands found him just after her words did. Cass blinked a few times, trying with a new desperation to understand the words that fell from sweet lips. Breathe? He could...? Without really noticing, he began to nod in sync with her, his head rising and falling in perfect pattern with hers as he made Rosie the centre of his universe. He took a breath, then another, allowing her words to coax him back from the cliff he'd been seconds from falling over.

"There's an old house at the end of the property. No one ever goes there; we'll be completely safe. You can tell me everything there, and I'll get you warmed up. Okay?"

"...Okay," he managed with a final nod. "Okay." He reached up, taking both her hands in his as an extra measure of grounding himself. "Let's...yeah...let's go there."

It was a bit of a walk through the trees that followed the wall and property line to the far southwest end. The dark made the biting cold of December that much harsher, but she kept her hand clasped in Cassian's, taking full advantage of his momentary comedown; enough to agree to get inside where she could warm him up. His hand was like ice in hers, and he was still shaking. It was a good walk from the village, and the boy hadn't any real winter clothes on.

They came to a smaller gate, still taller than both of them, but not spiked at the top and easily climbed over. Again, Rosie threw her heels over, hiked up her dress, and indicated for him to follow her with a slight nod of her head. The house - or tiny cottage of one bedroom - stood close by, completely dark and silent with no signs of life. It had been decades since anyone had lived in here, and for a time, Uncle William had allowed it to be used for Rosie's playhouse.

She pulled Cassian inside, closing the door quickly behind them. It smelled of dust and old wood, but it was cozy enough and got them out of the cold. She couldn't risk starting a fire in the fireplace, so she tugged him into the back bedroom where they could cuddle under the heavy quilts. She shrugged off her coat, climbing beneath the blankets, pulling him with her. "Lay down, love. You'll feel better."

Tucking the blankets around him to ensure the warmth couldn't escape, she held out her arms to him, inviting him to lay on her chest. His face was cold against her skin, and she wrapped one arm around him, the other immediately running softly through his curls. "I love you," she said quietly, kissing the top of his head before resting her cheek on it.

"Do you want to talk, or do you just want to lay here for a little while?" She was okay with either. While she wanted to know what was wrong, the look on his face, the way he was spiraling in real time, the fact that he had come all the way out here, knowing how dangerous it was for the both of them - she wouldn't push him. She would lay here quietly all night if he wanted to and just hold him through whatever was happening.

He needed her. And Rosalie would answer in whatever way that looked like.

Through a gate, over a gate. Cassian could see how he'd arrived at the little cottage. The only thing the boy had been aware of was Rosie's hand in his. It was warm. The soft skin of her palm that had never known hard labour melted over his like a soothing salve that tried to dull the discordance flowing through him. That warmth spread from the girl and into him, causing light tingles along his arm as it tried to revive his fraying nerves. He welcomed the feeling, trying to take hold of it and make it into some form of guiding beacon against the bitter cold and the roaring tundra that battered his insides.

She'd said something about a house where they could be safe. If he was being honest, he hadn't entirely understood. They'd been more words for him to interpret when it had been easier for him to agree. Now, standing in the old building that carried the cloying scent of dust and aged wood, Cassian found himself disoriented for a different reason.

How had they gotten there, and what were they doing there?

Neither question made it past his throat, dying in the silence that had consumed him on the walk. His body was going numb, though his mind refused to slow. There was a heaviness in the boy's limbs as he followed her to the bedroom, almost as if his body were preparing for collapse.

"Lay down, love. You'll feel better."

Wordlessly, he sank down next to her, letting her pull the covers over them both. Cassian lay his head against her chest, the rhythmic thrumming of her heartbeat providing some small degree of comfort when he did. He soaked in her affections, choosing to focus on them for the moment rather than the bigger things that were growing harder to ignore. There were so many questions, and a deep pit of dread had formed in his stomach, warning that he might never get all the answers.

"Do you want to talk, or do you just want to lay here for a little while?"

Cassian let her question linger in the stale air for a moment. He didn't have an answer. The boy didn't know what he wanted to do, only that nothing seemed like the right answer. Only this had felt right. Finding her, lying with her while his heart continued to be an arrhythmic nightmare, those were the things that made sense. Everything else? It was a garble of static he couldn't penetrate.

Finally, his lips parted, and a voice that sounded strangely like his own began to deliver words he didn't remember saying.

"My...my mother." Just saying it was enough to bring on a bout of dizzying dysphoria. "She's not...she's not dead. She was at the dinner table. We had meatloaf and sweet corn. She was sitting...sitting right there in Justine's chair...it rocks slightly depending on the way you lean. There was some fucking sports broadcast playing from the living room." Cass piled on the details, subconsciously trying to put as much distance between himself and he news he'd shared without ever noticing.

"I never did the dishes."

The house creaked and settled gently in the silence that permeated the small bedroom. In the middle of the land that kept the girl shackled by generational expectations, she was able to offer him the one refuge she had amongst it. The arm that held him ran slowly down his back and side in an effort to calm and steady him.

"My...my mother. She's not...she's not dead. She was at the dinner table."

Her hand stopped mid motion as the news hit her square in the chest, the shock in his voice shaking her in a way it hadn't before. His mother...wasn't dead? Rosalie blinked a few times, trying to understand what he was telling her as her hand resumed it's gentle stroking. She didn't know much about his mother, aside from her passing and the photo she'd seen in his room. Her absence had affected his entire life; he didn't need to say it for Rosie to understand. How could it not have? She saw the way he deflected harder emotions with humor and grandiosity, hiding behind the frame of a showman who only wanted to offer others a good time.

And while she didn't know all the ins and outs, she had always suspected his mother's passing had a lot to do with the fragmentation of Cassian's relationship with his dad. It was obvious in the little passing mentions of him.

'Dad will care when he finally notices. He's too busy.'

And now she was alive. Always had been. Where had she been? Why had Cassian's father pretended she was dead? Why would he do that to his son? Rosie swallowed hard, unwilling to bombard him with her thoughts, her fingers still brushing softly through his curls as he continued.

"We had meatloaf and sweet corn. She was sitting...sitting right there in Justine's chair...it rocks slightly depending on the way you lean. There was some fucking sports broadcast playing from the living room."

Rosie felt her stomach turn on itself. So normal. So...unsettling. She couldn't even imagine being in Cassian's place, thinking someone she loved so much and grieved for so long, could just appear and sit down for fucking dinner like it was the most normal thing in the world. She dropped her hand from his curls and wrapped her other arm around him, holding him tighter against her.

She didn't know what to say. She was at a total loss. She searched her mind for anything she could say to help him make sense of this, but what was there to make sense of?

They'd lied to him. Their son. They'd put him through the hell of losing his entire family. And for what? For fucking what? He was devastated, broken in her arms, and she didn't know how to fix it. She didn't know what to do.

"I never did the dishes."

Her face crumpled, but she held her emotions back, choosing instead to bury her face in his hair. She held him, unmoving, just wanting him to feel her love. If she couldn't offer anything else, she could offer him that. "I'm sorry," her soft reply finally came, as she kissed the top of his head again.

She wanted to say more, but all of her words had escaped her.

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too, I think."

Was he sorry? Was this something either of them had to be sorry for? Cassian felt like he should've known the answer. They were simple questions, after all. The presence or absence of the need for remorse, for repentance. He should've been able to know whether he or Rosie fit the bill, but all he could see was that expectant smile seconds after the front door had swung open. What the boy had thought was nothing more than a door-to-door salesman ready to pitch him cleaning products that would never hold a candle to a simple cleaning charm turned out to be so much...worse.

Was it worse?

She was alive...

Alive was...good?

Cassian closed his eyes against the feeling of her in his hair, trying to take a breath deep enough to make any of this start making sense. It didn't work. With his eyes fluttering open again and his lungs now empty, the world was still as topsy-turvy as when his ribcage had held his breath prisoner inside his chest. Without question, Cass did feel better having her around him and inhaling the familiar scent of cherryblossom that tried to bring him down, but even then the storm kept raging on.

It demanded answers he was no longer sure he was allowed to ask for. All his young life had been spent questioning. How...unfair it had all seemed. His friends had been able to keep their mothers. No matter what other calamities befell them, their mothers remained firm pillars that had kept them upright. Then there had been him. He'd spent countless nights awake, raging at the world that had taken his mother and wondering why he hadn't been allowed to keep his, too.

"I'm...I'm meant to be happy...aren't I...?"

Were he the red and teary-eyed 7-year-old who was told that his mother wouldn't be coming home, Cassian thought--no, he knew--that he would've been over the moon to open his front door to find her grinning with extended arms. He wouldn't have wondered how it was possible or where she'd been. His spirit would've risen to heights he never thought attainable, and his entire body would be in celebration.

This was a good thing.

This was...a miracle?

No. That didn't make sense. Miracles didn't feel like this. His father hadn't seemed surprised when he returned home to find her already started on dinner. Stunned, angry even...but not surprised. The man wasn't wondering how she'd survived whatever had taken her from them. He'd seemed more annoyed she'd dared come back.

And maybe that was the only response, but it left him wondering why.

"Why don't I feel happy?" Where was his relief?

"Me, too, I think."

Rosie swallowed hard, trying to understand how something like this could have happened. In moments when she didn't understand her parents, she tried to put herself in the role of a mother and make sense of what they were doing. There were times it worked and she was able to understand and empathize with their position. Other times, she found herself at a loss or worse, angry. There were many instances where Rosalie had imagined herself as a mother in the same position and couldn't reconcile doing to her child - who didn't exist - what her parents had done to her.

In this moment, as she tried to place herself in the position of Cassian's mother and father, all it did was make her angry. How? Why? She knew these were questions Cassian was grappling with, and it wasn't her place to ask them; it was his. She could be supportive and help him try to find the answers, if there were any at all, but it wasn't her place to try and take the charge on this one for him.

Whatever was happening, it was something he'd have to reconcile with them.

"I'm...I'm meant to be happy...aren't I...?"

She faltered for a moment as she lifted her face from his hair, letting her head fall back gently on the pillow. She stared up at the ceiling, not knowing what he was supposed to feel. Was there a rule on this? That he was supposed to feel grateful for a mother he'd mourned and built his world around her loss to suddenly show up and throw his world into a chaotic spin? She...didn't know. Would she feel happy if someone she'd thought was dead for years suddenly walked back into her life with no explanation?

"Why don't I feel happy?"

"Because you're confused," she said softly, her fingers tracing his arm, following the contours of it, brushing over his knuckles and fingers before running back up again. "Sometimes when one emotion is so strong, it doesn't leave room for anything else." It was the only thing she could think to set his mind at any kind of ease. "You don't have to feel anything, Cass," her voice was barely above a whisper, "It's a huge shock, you know."

And he was allowed to linger in that.

"Does your dad know you're here?" she asked, worried she already knew the answer. If Cassian had snuck out again and his father caught him, it'd be worse than last time. The girl was genuinely worried Mr. McCormick wouldn't hesitate to pull him out of school if he found out. And Rosalie didn't want him stuck in a house full-time with people who lied to him about something so important.

Because...he was...confused. Yes. Confused. That made sense. In the midst of the haze, Cassian supposed that sentence was irrevocably true. It would explain the disorienting spinning that occurred in his head, and the way his limbs felt both numb and alive, like electrical wires improperly cut.

Confused.

Most would be, wouldn't they? Dead people didn't walk up to your front door with wide smiles, insisting they hug and have a look at you. They didn't tell you you'd grown like a weed, and heckled you for your father not insisting you get a haircut because your curls were beginning to cover your eyes. They certainly didn't ignore that confusion, letting themselves in before dumping the one dirty bag they'd carried over their shoulder onto the living room floor. Those...those were not the actions of the dead. Those weren't the actions of most of the living. He couldn't have been the only one who'd seen it for the madness it was.

Cassian could almost see her tutting at the drapes, muttering that his father hadn't changed them in seven years.

Seven years.

So...she knew how long it had been. The passage of time hadn't escaped her. She hadn't fallen down a wormhole or gotten lost in between the fabric of space and time after getting hold of a time-turner. There was no illusion on the woman's end about how long she'd been gone. Surely then, she knew all the things she'd missed. She...she had to have known how much things had changed, but she acted like she didn't--like she'd gone to the store to grab some milk and was exasperated to find her child in a fretful fit on her return when she'd made it clear she'd only be gone 15 minutes.

Were he not so struck by the performance, Cassian may have realised that what he felt must've been what Rosie felt every time something big happened, and he went on like it was nothing. It was the performance of the year--of the century. Why stop there? The woman would go down an idol on the West End.

Because it had to be an act. It...there was no way she could've genuinely thought this was all okay.

Right?

"You don't have to feel anything, Cass. It's a huge shock, you know."

"I don't know if I feel anything," he confessed, the words stark as he realised he barely felt her gentle fingers and the comfort they attempted to offer. This wasn't fine. He knew he wasn't fine, but he also no longer knew how to make it better. Was there a better? It didn't feel like there could be.

"Does your dad know you're here?"

Cassian froze. Every muscle seized in place as the boy's mind went blank. His father? Here? Knew? "Shit."

Of course, he didn't. What was he going to say? "You've both fucked me for the last time. I'll see you whenever?" Proud as he'd have been at that level of snark, the truth was simpler. It hadn't occurred to him. Cass had opened the front door, the sound of his parents arguing pouring down the narrow staircase from their room. He stepped out into the twilight street, the lights already having come on. Then...he...walked.

Cassian groaned. "I'm not in the mood for another lecture."

"I don't know if I feel anything."

That was normal, wasn't it? If there was a 'normal' for something like this?

Over the summer, Rosie had fallen into something that felt like nothing. She'd been a walking, empty shell, any semblance of herself locked back away beneath the veneers of a polite smile. For months she'd wandered, feeling nothing, the sharpest words impenetrable against the walls she'd built around herself. For a time, it had kept her from going insane, quieting the screaming that pounded at the gates from somewhere deep inside her.

Sometimes numb felt better than everything that could be felt in its place. At the same time, Rosie knew it would only be a matter of time before that numbness thawed and Cassian's true feelings would be thrust to the forefront. It worried the girl that knew he was a minimizer, keeping all of his darkest emotions for himself. She didn't want everything to finally break him; he'd been through enough.

"Shit."

Her heart dropped. His dad didn't know he was here, and worst, Cassian hadn't even thought about it. Her first thought was to send his dad a message and just let him know Cassian was alright. Maybe he'd be less angry if she reached out to him and explained everything.

Not likely, she knew. His father already didn't want him around Rosie, and she couldn't blame him after everything. If his dad knew about what Julia had told them back in September, he'd be even more adamant that they not be around one another. The poor girl was at a loss for what to do about any of this. She was still learning how to be a girlfriend and moreso how to support a boy that so often hid his deeper self and emotions from her.

"I'm not in the mood for another lecture."

And Rosie selfishly believed he didn't deserve one. Not for this. Not after what he'd just had piled on him. He deserved to be left alone and left to feel the way he did, and handle it the way he needed to. If that meant he came here, to her, then Rosie didn't care what anyone else thought about it.

"I know love," she said, scooting down a little so that he eased up off her, and they were eye-level lying on the bed together. Her hand brushed his cheek, as her oceans found his earthy brown, trying to convey all the words she wanted to say that she knew she couldn't. "I'll take care of you," she said softly, the words coming more like a request than a statement. It was the only thing she ever wanted; to be able to be the one whose love was enough to take away everything he fought in the dark. She wanted to be the one to hold him through it all and help him see that things would get better some day.

She didn't know to fix this, but maybe she could make it easier for him to handle in some way.

It took a moment after Rosie began moving for the boy to realise. He was still lost in the fog that had covered his mind, his brain grasping desperately at straws that might aid in his understanding. By some miracle, the world itself no longer seemed toposy-turvy. Cass wasn't imagining right being on the left or the sky being on the ground. Much of that, he suspected, had to do with the way lying there with Rosie holding him had managed to ground him. Her gentle stroking motions and her hushed words had done what they could to coax him back to shore while his ship continued to insist on drifting out toward the turbulent open seas.

But it wouldn't last. Cassian knew himself well enough and wasn't so far outside of his mind that he didn't know this wasn't going to end well. No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to spend the night. At some point, he would have to return home or risk half of magical law enforcement coming after him.

There weren't many ways he could think that would've ruined his night worse.

"I'll take care of you."

He wanted to let her.

All of him ached to dissolve into the dusty sheets and let Rosie continue to soothe the fraying edges of his nerves. Lying eye to eye and noting the earnestness of what sounded vaguely like a plea, Cassian wanted to surrender. He didn't want to remove himself from the sweet touch of her fingers brushing against his skin any more than he wanted to extract himself from the warmth they'd created beneath the covers, just to return to a house that now felt cold. It wasn't desire that drove the restless thoughts of him leaving, but practicality.

He could hide for as long as he wanted to, but at some point, there would only be one road left to walk down.

"I don't think you can this time," he muttered quietly. There was an ache in his voice that frightened even him. Every one of his instincts screamed at him now, insisting there was only one way and one thing that would make everything truly better. He knew it was a lie. Cassian was well aware it never made anything 'better', but he knew it did enough to remove the edge off whatever he was feeling, and in the moment...that was enough.

The rest would figure itself out. The rest would come when morning rolled in, and the previous night's war faded into an obscure past that none of them would likely talk about again. He knew how this worked and had seen his father when faced with big blow-ups. Stoicism was the man's shield in as in as much as showmanship and bravado were the boy's. He would stone face his way through, full of grit and control until whatever it was resolved itself--if it ever would.

Cass reached a hand up, raking it across her hair. He needed it, needed to feel her while he continued to build his waning resolve.

"I can't stay. I...I'll have to go." He shook his head a little, his eyes lowering from hers. "I shouldn't have dragged you out of the castle." This could've waited until they'd returned to school. He'd come all this way because he needed to see her, and in some ways, it was the thing that had kept him afloat, but much like sneaking over during the summer had done, there was more damage than aid.

Now he burned at the thought of leaving while the trepidation in his chest told him he didn't have much more time left there.

"I don't think you can this time."

Rosie's eyes didn't move from his, but there was a visible crumbling behind blue irises. They fluttered as she nodded slightly, holding back the words that wouldn't help anything. She didn't understand, wouldn't try to, but it didn't change the stab that seared through her chest. She should have been used to it by now. Every time Cassian pulled away or shut her out, it was another cut, and she'd thought the pain would be one she'd have learned to live with. Instead, it just hurt more and more, the numbness she'd anticipated never coming to offer any sort of relief.

His hand brushed through her hair, and she sensed it in the same moment. As her eyes searched his, she felt a deep sense of dread building in her stomach. She didn't know what it was or where it was coming from, but it tore at her insides, twisting over and over on itself.

"I can't stay. I...I'll have to go."

Her breath hitched in her throat, suddenly feeling a sense of panic coming over her. She didn't want him to go. Not like this. The dread that had taken hold increased by the moment, as she felt him withdrawing in real time. She didn't want to make a scene or anything about her - especially after what had happened in that closet back in September. But...something was very wrong. More than his mother. She could feel it, and she didn't know what it was.

"I shouldn't have dragged you out of the castle."

"Don't be silly," her words came quickly, and she took hold of his hand that raked through her hair. She brought it to her lips, kissing the top of hand, partly to steady herself, partly to try and regain his attention. "I'm...glad you came to me," she struggled, trying to understand why he was pulling away from her now. She understood he'd eventually have to go home, but his withdrawal was so sudden and immediate.

"Cassian," she tried, feeling her heart starting to pick up speed. "Don't go. Not like this." She released his hand, bringing her own back to his face to make him look at her. "I don't want you walking back in the cold when you feel like this. Just a little longer. Or let me walk to the village with you at least?" Anything. She didn't want to let him go, sensing whatever she did. It scared her. What if he was so distraught he couldn't find his way back? Or worse - what if he ran off and didn't tell her where he was going?

She didn't know what it was, she just...couldn't let him go like this.

"Please?"

"Don't be silly. I'm...glad you came to me."

She said it, but his brain had a hard time accepting it. He wanted to believe that Rosie was glad he'd called her from the warmth of her castle to mope, then tell her he had to leave, but there were too many opposing thoughts that insisted otherwise. They reminded him he shouldn't have come. Had he stayed home, she wouldn't be worried now. He wouldn't see the terror slowly creeping into her eyes at the thought that he would have to go. It wouldn't have been difficult to survive the night, then write her a message in the morning. He could've kept the tone light, enthused behind the ink, about the impending holiday. Then he'd figure the rest out.

Coming had been selfish. At the start of the evening, he'd been the only one unsettled and spiralling. There'd been no need to pass it on, especially when he knew he wasn't in a position to fix it. Cassian couldn't think of anything he might say to reassure Rosie that it was all okay, and didn't think he had it in him to either. The boy was crashing, slowly being consumed by the heaviness that had taken hold of him.

He would have to shake it somehow, but knew he couldn't here.

Rosie wanted to be what he needed in the moment. He'd seen that look in those deep and piercing blues of hers before. She wanted him to lay it all down, surrender, and let her patch him back up so that the cracks were unrecognisable and he was once again whole. Cassian would've given anything to let her, he just...knew she couldn't. Well-meaning as his girlfriend was, it all felt so much bigger and harder. She wouldn't help; she would only get dragged down, too, in the end, then neither of them would be fine.

The edge that he felt had only one remedy, and it wasn't the sort he thought Rosie had ever heard of, let alone one she wouldn't panic over. That...wasn't what he needed.

"Don't go. Not like this."

He sighed, lacing their fingers together for a moment. "I don't have a choice. You know my dad. This doesn't end well if I stay." Taking matters into his own hands, it was every bit as likely the man might march him up to those castle doors and insist he apologise, never knowing the danger it would put him--maybe them in. It wasn't worth the fuss when the solution was so simple.

"Or let me walk to the village with you at least?"

He thought to decline this too, but realised there was no harm and plenty of benefit in not leaving her to feel completely shut out. The walk was a long and lonely one. Having little company for the trip--her company--might well have been the difference of whether he made it back to the floo station or not.

He eased himself up, pulling her along with him. For her, he managed a smile, small and unimpressive. "Let's go then. Grounded for Christmas would be an awful look on me." Try as he did for the standard bravado and charisma, his tone fell flat. It had been bogged down by the confusion and melancholy that sated him. He wanted to be alright for her, but in the moment, the performance proved too much for him. Instead, he pulled her into him and held her.

None of him wanted to leave, none of him wanted to let go, but all of him knew he had to.

"You sure you won't be in trouble sneaking out?"

There was no need for the night to sour for them both. Cassian was now well aware of what her family was capable of, and it made him hesitant to have Rosie fall on their wrong side over something like this.

She could see him crashing before her eyes, and it ripped a hole right through her. She didn't understand. She was right here, silently begging him to let her help him, and he wouldn't. There was no greater heartbreak, Rosalie reasoned, than watching someone you loved drown, throwing them a lifeline, and they chose instead to go under the waves. There was a part of her that wondered if she'd ever be what he needed; if he'd ever trust her enough or have enough faith in her to know she could handle the parts of him he felt he needed to hide.

"I don't have a choice. You know my dad. This doesn't end well if I stay."

She knew. Cassian's father was at the end of his rope with their relationship. Her boyfriend didn't need to tell her for her to be able to read between the lines of all the punishments since last November. While her family didn't want Rosie to have anything to do with Cassian, his father equally felt the same about her. He couldn't stay. Not if she didn't want this to all blow up in both their faces.

He was right.

He sat up, pulling her with him, finally agreeing to let her do something for him, even if it was just making sure he got back to the village safely. "They won't know," she said softly with a defeated shrug, "They think I'm in bed for the night." They also still believed she had the surveillance charm on her, and without it alarming, no one would have any reason to believe she wasn't exactly where she said she was.

She let him hold her, nuzzling her face into the soft skin of his neck. She breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of cinnamon and books, wishing there was a way she could keep him. Someday, she told herself, it wouldn't be like this. Someday, they'd be free of parental expectations and restrictions and everything would solve itself. They'd be together, always, and finally be happy.

Rosalie couldn't remember the last time she truly felt happy. "Let's go, Casanova," she said quietly, climbing out of the bed to retrieve her coat and lead him from the house.

---

The walk had been silent. Rosie didn't know what to say. Was there anything she could have said that would have helped him and not made him pull further inward? She didn't know, but it wasn't something she was willing to risk when he was already in such a horrible state. Instead, she clung to his arm, her other hand laced with his as her head rested on his shoulder the entire walk.

If she could just...make him feel her love, maybe it would be enough to get him through the last week of break until they could return to school. When she couldn't offer him answers or comfort, she could offer him her heart. She couldn't force him to take or keep it, but it was there, laid bare for him if he wanted it.

When they'd arrived at the shop where the Floo Network would transport him home, she stood quietly in front of him, not knowing how she should leave him. She fought with herself, wanting to tell him they could figure it out, that they could run together, now, if he really wanted to. That she'd look after him. That he didn't have to hurt anymore, if it was just the two of them.

She knew it was foolish.

"You know I love you?" she finally said, her voice cracking softly against the quiet sleeping village. "I'll do anything for you." She brushed her hand across his cheek, willing to him hear her, before placing a brief kiss on it. There was more she needed to say, but it wasn't the time. He had enough on his mind, and she just wanted him to get home safely. He didn't need her words, and she wouldn't burden him with them. As long as he knew she was here when he needed her.

"Write to me when you get home?" She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly for a moment, before pulling away and walking in the opposite direction without another word. She didn't look back. She had a long dark walk ahead of her, and couldn't spend it crying.