A Night I Couldn’t Be Honest - Chapter 2.5

With every exchange they had, Azelin grew more certain that however grand a scheme this was meant to be, Rozalia’s preparation had been remarkably poor.

Improvising her way through things had worked so far, but every time the Marquis brought up some memory from the past, she felt her heart plummet.

Maybe he cared so little about Rozalia that he hadn’t thought about it carefully, or maybe, Rozalia genuinely had no memories of the Marquis worth keeping.

‘If that’s the case… that’s a little sad.’

She had no business feeling sorry for someone living in an entirely different world. But his expression was so purely happy when he shared memories she couldn’t confirm, his smile so full of that wonder, that warmth, that she found herself feeling sorry for him despite everything.

Because to Azelin, the Marquis held a special significance she couldn’t compare to anyone else. Even if he might not remember at all, even if it meant nothing to anyone else,

That was why meeting him like this, in Rozalia’s place, at Rozalia’s command, felt so wrong.

‘I had thought I’d like to see him again someday. But I didn’t imagine it would be under these circumstances.’

That was why, though her head kept telling her to coldly shake off the hand that held hers, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from the careful, gentle movement tracing the back of her hand.

While she looked away, determinedly staring into the distance to avoid the Marquis’s steady gaze, his careful fingertip grazed over the ring, passing along its surface as if gauging something.

With a faint smile he hid from her eyes, the Marquis turned away.

* * *

Azelin’s lips were pressed in a thin, barely-contained line. Across from her, the Marquis had his chin propped in his hand, looking thoroughly entertained. She tapped his arm with a closed fist.

“What on earth do you think you’re….”

He understood her perfectly but pretended not to, touching the flat of a spoon to her sealed lips with an expression of pure innocence. Soft, white vanilla ice cream smeared onto Azelin’s red lips.

“You said you wanted to know what ordinary people’s lives were like. So I’m showing you. Come on, say ‘ah’.”

How could someone say something so embarrassing so brazenly?

Forgetting she was in the middle of a performance, Azelin went scarlet, her eyes darting around helplessly. The longer she held out, the more she felt the attention of passersby gathering on them, so once again she lost to the Marquis, squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, and opened her mouth.

“How is it? Sweet?”

Cool sweetness melted on her tongue. A spoon laden with ice cream slid back and forth against it, filling her mouth with thick, clinging vanilla. The warmth of her own mouth dissolved the cold too quickly.

Having it fed to her rather than eating it herself meant the cold spoon kept brushing the soft inner skin of her cheeks and tongue, and the strange sensation gave her an odd jolt every time.

“Stop.”

When Azelin finally couldn’t take it and wrapped her hand lightly around his to make him stop, he released the spoon. She pried it from his hand, swallowed a sigh, and licked the white residue from her lips.

‘I shouldn’t have agreed to buy ice cream.’

She hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings with outright rejection, so she’d tried to be so unpleasant that he’d lose interest in her instead. She’d heard he was unusually fastidious, so if she offered him street food, surely he’d recoil.

She imagined him wrinkling his nose at something so common, and then she would throw a little fit about it, saying “Why can’t you even do this much for me?” and naturally erode whatever affection he had for Rozalia…. But…

‘He’s a tougher opponent than I thought, isn’t he?’

He had looked at the ice cream cart with an expression of mild distaste at first, then spent some time watching the other couples sharing desserts at the outdoor tables with what could only be described as bright, earnest curiosity, and then turned that same bright, earnest curiosity on her and came back with one spoon.

“I never understood why anyone would do something so unhygienic. But I think I’m starting to see the point.”

“What?”

“When you love someone, it’s only natural that you want to share everything with them, isn’t it?”

Their hands intertwined once again. This time it was him covering hers, the hand holding the spoon, and he scooped a small bite and put it in his own mouth. Azelin found herself somehow feeding him ice cream, tried to take her hand back, but he didn’t let go.

Clink. The faint vibration of the spoon catching against teeth and tongue traveled into her fingers. Her gaze drifted on its own to his lips around it.

The red of his lips pressed and parted softly, and a barely-visible tongue slipped out and dragged lightly across them. The ice cream in her own mouth was gone, but her tongue had gone sugary and her throat suddenly dry.