"Funny enough, it's all your fault."
"What? Wh-what did I do–?" I stammer.
When he suddenly draws near, picking me up like a weightless object, I initially resist. I squirm and writhe, only to be dropped on the nearby bed. Then, he's on top of me.
"I don't want to fucking talk, just take off your fucking clothes," he snaps at me. A madness has taken hold of him. There's an intensity in his eyes that makes me want to cry out in fear initially. Then, when he forces a kiss upon me, there's a yearning to ease what I realize must be pain.
Counter to his demands, I wrap my arms around him. My right hand reaches up to his hair, stroking gently as I ask him to calm down. My left hand slips to his waist, holding him gently. Everything is instinctual, I have no idea if it will end well or not.
"Ledge," I whisper gently, "you're okay."
His body begins to sink against me. Slowly, steadily. With each rise of his chest I take note of the strain. His tail whips in the air, his hands trace along the edges of my body. I imagine the long day at work, paired with losing half of his life force, topped by my digging into a sore spot has amounted to a particularly strenuous day.
"Everything's okay," I remind him. "Good job today."
I'm just telling him the things I wish someone would tell me. These are the foreign words I find inspiring when spoken by mentors and lovers in film. To my surprise, they seem to work on Ledger as well. His breathing calms, his body lays limp atop me.
"Good boy," I reward him with a gentle kiss on the forehead.
Everything is calm for a moment. Ledger sits up to remove his jacket, his tie, his watch. Though I hope for him to resume laying with me on the bed, he instead sits on the edge of the bed. I watch him carefully, ready to be there when he needs me.
"Look, I don't want to fuckin' talk about it, but I've got my reasons to hate your dad. I have reason to hate you too," he looks back at me, his eyes narrowed. "But you've been givin' me reasons everyday not to," he adds, looking away again.
"I want to trust you," I confess.
"Of course you fuckin' do. You're obsessed with me," he laughs.
"I'm not going to stand by and let you kill my Papa either," I add. "Whatever he did I'm sure was bad, and I'm sorry. I hope that–."
"Hope that what? You get to have your cake and eat it too? Sooner or later you'll have to choose who you want to stand by. Either you stay stuck in the past with your father," he stands up, turning around to extend his hand to me, "or join me in making a new future."
As he stands above me, looming in the cold light of his sanctuary, I consider for the first time whether or not I could live without Papa. If I take his hand, am I willing to accept that potential reality? Without his direction, what am I capable of? Why would I risk everything I've built for someone I've only known for a short time? Why do I want to take his hand so badly?
Without giving myself time to think about it, I lean forward and grab his hand. When I meet his gaze, he seems as surprised as I do. His shock is visible for only a second before the man pulls me up, his lips curling into a devilish grin as he stands me up on the bed.
Then, he laughs. Loud, booming cackling. He's the spitting image of a mad man, but I don't pull away. Instead I go along with his movements as he pulls me into his arms, his hands gripping the back of the shirt which he put me in.
"Let's go get dinner!" He smiles, picking me up and then placing me down on the floor gently. "My treat! We'll get some clothes on you, somethin' that shows off your figure."
He's so jovial when he gets his way, it's sweeter than any candy I've ever tasted. Ledger's happiness is a riptide ready to pull me under, to steal my breath away. All I can do is agree with him as he hoists me up into his arms again, trotting me downstairs and placing me gently on the kitchen counter. Is it wrong of me to go along with this? Someone here is going to get hurt, and I can only pray that it's me.
Dinner is, unsurprisingly, held between Ledger and I in his office. Despite my ability to slowly snoop around his office, I'm in no condition to be out and about. That's to say nothing of the controversy it would raise for me to have disappeared for a day, being entirely uncontactable, and then spotted with my business-rival-turned-fiance. I'm sure my coworkers would assume I've entirely abandoned them at that point.
His office is on the top floor, which thankfully minimizes the amount of contact I'm forced to have with outsiders. Ledger insisted I didn't need to wear anything other than his shirt, and so I stole from the couch a blanket to cover myself more thoroughly. I'm glad I did, as walking past the familiar angry secretary would be infinitely more humiliating had I not.
I'm sitting across from him, watching him become distracted by his computer repeatedly. The simple act of ordering food is a chore for a man for whom time is so limited. Perhaps, anyways. Perhaps it's simply the fact he can't help himself from working, when put in the position to do so. I suppose he'd have to be some level of work pervert to have an office in his own home, when his workplace is quite literally just below his feet.
"Would you like me to order for us this time?" I chuckle, holding my hand out for his phone.
"Uh– Yeah, yeah go for it," he mumbles, his eyes only glancing at me briefly.
"I thought we'd go out to eat, but I'm so tired anyways," I ramble with a heavy yawn. Even if he's not really listening, it's nice to have someone to talk to so casually.
While holding his phone I take note of how much heavier it is than mine. His case is thick, multi-layered with grips on the side. Realizing he hasn't even picked a restaurant from the list yet makes me chuckle.
"Pick a number between one and fifty," I command as I peek up at him.
"... 10."
"You chose… Healthy barbeque!" I wasn't aware such a thing existed. In order to keep things simple I order a sampler platter, as well as two drinks I've never heard of in my life. Finishing up the order, I glance at him. He's completely preoccupied. His expression goes from annoyed to satisfied, then angry then neutral.
"Can I snoop through your phone?" I ask innocently.