#if ur following along at home (hi!) I am still thinking about getting the fringe!!

[notcatherinemorland]

we've had first vent this week, but what about second vent?

so i was, admittedly, fully in my feels n beating myself up for it. but 1) I have had too much therapy to do that any more. 2) I put said therapy into practice and made a list of all the shit I was feeling overwhelmed by and like. yeah ok it tracks.

2 deaths in the family, both of them my parents best friends who they had known their entire adult lives. my meds have stopped working and I'm waiting to increase the dose. i'm waiting because I have massive deadlines that i'm scared to the back teeth of, I've got a silly little crush which is not like, up there with the deaths of two of the kindest people I've ever known, but it is, indeed, a source of stress. I've done no art in 3 weeks because of this stress after indulging in it for 2 months, I've not left the house in 4 days, i'm cooking, which I abhor, and most of all 2 people I've loved my whole entire life are gone. also like, I can't walk up and down the stairs more than once a day 4/7 days a week. and im poor because I cant work because I cant walk and I had to try explain to my dad that I cant walk without a cane anymore. & i'm grieving the fact that I cant indulge in my favourite hobby maybe ever again (walking for 8 hours around a new city).

so uh. forgive me my acting out/venting/not replying/etc. Its been a long month.

[theheartofpenelope]

Simple Things : Chapter nine

Excerpt - As she hurried down the hallway her eyes fell onto the sight she’d somewhat feared... A bespectacled man was reading a paperback at the door of her hotel room. There he was; casually leaning against the door case. The man who had comforted her to sleep, the same man who had urged her to Ystad to ease her mind. Was it silly of her to feel tingly all over as she set eyes on him? Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1 @stmeiou @ink-and-starlight @givemecocoaa @profkmoriarty13 @nikkalia @massivelemon @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @argo-shila @emoietmoi @redfoxwritesstuff @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @raining-litter Author’s Notes/Warnings: tags will follow later on Anyway thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think…Also on AO3 through this link Masterlist available through here Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter Nine Edinburgh, Scotland– day one

1.  July turned to August. And just like every other year Edinburgh was transformed to accommodate the Fringe Festival. Scotland’s capital was turned upside down as a wide range of performers of all arts and nationalities touched base in the city. Countless stages were being set up all over the city, ready to present spectacles of all kinds and for every taste.

This year Tom would be partaking as well, albeit for one night only. It was a childhood dream come true. He had decided to turn his stay into some sort of a city break, allowing himself some extra days on site because, well, Fringe. With relatives nearby he’d been wanting to visit and a list of performances to explore he granted himself the gift of time.   “A mini-break, Charlotte would be so proud,” he’d laughed to himself.

But first and foremost, true to his words, Tom had made his arrangements to meet up with Charlotte. It had been settled that he would pick her up at her hotel after she concluded her seminar for the day. He wanted to show her the city that held plenty of his childhood memories, he wanted to introduce her to the wonderful world of Fringe - certain in every way that this would be a festival to her taste. He wanted to take her to the Theatre and see her revell in the experience as she did in London. He wanted to talk to her, spend time with her without having to keep an eye on the clock. He wanted every second, as long as it was with her.

She had been on his mind ever since he’d ran into her at the airport that day. On the weirdest moments and in the strangest situations. However when Tom turned down his cousin’s invitation for an event occuring on the night he was to meet Charlotte, he was quick to inform said cousin he was just simply meeting up with someone; a friend. It was most definitely not a date, merely a friendly get-together. The sentence had rolled of his tongue as it had done many, many, times before, in other situations, with other people. This time however the words left him somewhat hollow. Strange.

In the elevator Charlotte glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time, fully realising she was - in fact - still running late. As the steel sliding doors finally opened to her floor, she rushed down the hallway on her white heels, her off white dress flowing casually along, a binder closely held to her chest while her other hand balanced her purse.

As she hurried down the hallway her eyes fell onto the sight she’d somewhat feared... A bespectacled man was reading a paperback at the door of her hotel room. There he was; casually leaning against the door case. The man who had comforted her to sleep, the same man who had urged her to Ystad to ease her mind. Was it silly of her to feel tingly all over as she set eyes on him?

If anything the setback in the seminar’s planning had been a blessing in disguise to Charlotte as it had left her with no time to stress about meeting up with Tom. The afternoon transitioned into early evening without granting her even the slightest second in which she would be able to worry about anything at all. Besides running late of course.

“I’m sò sorry I made you wait,” she apologised. Tom only greeted her with a lopsided smile, urging her not to worry about any of it. They had the rest of the evening, he reasoned before greeting her with a casual peck on the cheek. Her loose hair smelled of citrus and a hint of white musk.

“Do I have time to freshen up just a little bit? Slip into something more appropriate?”

Charlotte rambled on, unaware how he cautiously admired her attire while cautiously reminding himself that this was not a date.

Charlotte inserted her key card and headed into her room, wordlessly inviting him inside. And while she rummaged around in the bathroom, Tom curiously laid eyes on the books that lay scattered on her nightstand. He started flipping pages before coming across a thin hardcover book titled ‘the Amsterdam Canals’.

“See anything you like?” her gentle inquiry startled him and Charlotte quietly laughed at her realisation of it. Tom chuckled slightly and readjusted his glasses before turning his attention from the books back to her as she made her way towards him.  

“That one is for you actually,” she picked up the slim book, presenting it to him.

“I spotted it on a flea market; it’s from an Ecuadorian photographer. Thought you might like it better than the crappy shots I sent you.”

Her lips curved into a kindhearted smile as she admiringly pointed out some of her favourite images to him. However his eyes were fixated on her rather than the book.

“Are you serious?” he gave her an incredulous look, “you shouldn’t have....”

“Hmmm, I have this thing,” she shrugged, “with books. I don’t know. An accidental discovery, I couldn’t just leave it there… ”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he nodded while a genuine feeling of happiness snuck up on him, “I appreciate this. Thank you.”

“Well, it’s no Paulo Coelho…” Charlotte felt a blush coming up and swiftly steered away from the subject. Buying that book had seemed an attentive gesture to her at the time, but in retrospect, maybe it had been a strange and foolish thing to do?

“So, what do you think,” she switched her hip in good fun as she fake-modeled a casual short-sleeved sweater dress, “am I good to go now?”

“You’re perfect,” the words rolled of his tongue. And it wasn’t a lie.

Remember Tom, not a date.

2. His long legs climbed the Scottish hillside at a very steady pace; Charlotte suspected this was a regular visit to him. Had to be. She gave herself thumbs up for wearing a pair of sneakers while she marched up the (sometimes not so gentle) slope. She may have lost the benefit of added height, but was ever more grateful for gaining the ability to ease through the brisk climb.

Tom was clearly in his element and this amused her greatly. He explained how Edinburgh was built on seven hills and Charlotte was thankful they would only be climbing up just one that evening. It was clear she had been sitting too much these days. All these seminars were a professional blessing, but a physical curse. This, combined with the heat wave, has created this bizarre yearning in her mind to go swimming, not climbing hills. But she had no say in this tonight. She’d agreed to letting him surprise her with what he reckoned a ‘sightseeing-de-luxe’. He made her promise to not take any notice of the view while climbing up, but to allow herself to get surprised at the summit. And who has she to deny him of this - obviously great - pleasure?

“So this one, is called Arthur’s Seat and they say it’s a sleeping dragon,” Tom elaborated. “An old Celtic story says that a dragon used to fly around the sky, terrorising the region and eating all the livestock. Eventually it ate sò much, that one day it lay down, went to sleep, and never woke up again.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine his inner 10 year old that still awed over the legend.

Charlotte smiled to herself, taking in all the information while playfully addressing him as ‘Tourguide Tom’ for the rest of the hike. It had only spurred him on though; under a thick Scottish accent he directed her attention to St. Anthony’s Chapel, the Royal Mile, etc.

“Ye ken, traditionally oan main day, yoong kimmers woods climb th' hillside an' wash their coopon in th' dew,” he continued with a smirk, “legend has is 'at thes woods keep them lookin' yoothful an' bonnie.” (*)

(*) “You know, traditionally on May Day, young women would climb the hillside and wash their face in the dew. Legend has is that this would keep them looking youthful and beautiful.”

It might as well have been Chinese to Charlotte. While she did have English under her belt, the Scottish dialect was just a bit too far out her reach. Except for maybe some easy basics…  

“Ur ye feckin' kiddin' me?!”

If anything, Tom did not see this one coming. His hand flew to his chest, he threw his head back and laughed. Loudly and without reservation.

“Com’n then love,” Tom tittered on, while guiding Charlotte up the hill for those last few feet. Charlotte chuckled along. He seemed so happy, carefree, a bit flirty, probably without trying to be. He was in good spirits and it was quite catchy...

Against all of her expectations, the summit was quite touristy. A lot of vacationers promenaded around, their cameras in hand while they were alternatively in awe of the view and anxious to take that perfect vacation picture so they could relive the moment at home.

But when she herself was standing near the edge of that particular hillside, Charlotte finally understood; the view was nothing short of spectacular. She fell silent at the sight of Edinburgh at her feet, the old city centre was buzzing with activity, with mood lighting everywhere. The people down below were crawling all over the streets like ants, the cars and bicycles seemed almost toy-like.

She heard Tom approaching behind her. It sounded like a gently sigh escaped his lips, mere moments before she heard him quietly murmuring into her ear, “now if I remember this well, you are a sea girl before anything else…,”

In their messages post-Hamburg he had learned about Charlotte’s affinity with water. With the sound of crashing waves, the effect of the surf that could always, always calm her down and relax. Something about childhood memories and Oyster Festival Parades (but she hated oysters. It cracked him up.). Also something with boats, the sounds of the marina. He never told her, but that was exactly why he’d urged her to Ystad. Out of the city. Closer to nature. In a cottage close to the beach; the promise of a deserted shore where you could sit for hours on end just enjoying the silence...   

He gently placed his hands over her upper arms and guided her a bit to the right, changing her position so her eyes could catch the entire panoramic view he had in mind.

“You need the full perspective,” he whispered.

WIth a gasp Charlotte noted the ocean coming within view; the dull cry of seagulls in the distance, little boats making their way back to the safe harbour.

“Oh my…”

“Yah,” a proud smile and he nodded. “I couldn’t bare the thought of you visiting Edinburgh and not coming up here.”

“Something tells me you couldn’t bare the thought of not coming up here yourself.”

Tom looked at her out of the corner of his eye and chuckled as he admitted to her speculation with an ambiguous nod.  

“There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.”

Charlotte, however, could only frown at Lord Byron’s beautiful poetry, and declared that she knew melancholy when she saw it. A lazy smile curved among Tom’s lips as he cast his eyes down, “and how are you?”

“Don’t digress Tourguide Tom,”

“Says the evasive lawyer,” he quickly retorted.

“Not evasive,” she defended; a caring sympathy lingering through her voice, “I was just first.”

“Are we five?” he cocked his eyebrow in good fun, which promptly urge a giggle from Charlotte.

She looked upon him gleefully and he wondered what it was that made her feel so… familiar and honest and ‘good’?

“What is wìth you today?” Charlotte chortled, “someone ought to teach you manners again. Am I going to speak with your mysterious blonde over this?”

Tom shook his head with a laugh as he quickly retorted the mystery blonde was simply not for him. It had been a casual answer but it didn’t make Charlotte feel any less mortified for mentioning it. Tom sweetly shrugged Charlotte’s apology off. Because there was nothing here to be sorry about. Not one thing at all…

“But,” he raised his index finger proudly, “you will be happy to know that I’m taking a mini-break. Right now.”

“You’re not!” she exclaimed excitedly, “finally! Is that why you’re so…”

“So? So what?” he curved his brow comically, “oh really, finish that sentence for me now.”

Charlotte cackled and admitted she’d rather not. “Oh my, but you’re really doing it. Slowing down. Zoning out. La dolce far niente…” she teased while rubbing her arms. Strands of her hair circled around, dancing freely on the fickle wind.

“Are you cold darling?” he ran his hand over her back, but Charlotte only shook her head, “nah, only surprised how much cooler it is up here. Brisk breeze here,”

“I should’ve told you, it’s always quite windy up here…” he pondered for a little while, “What do you think - Fish and chips?”

Charlotte threw her head back, in an attempt to shake her long tresses out of her face and dramatically bellowed, “god yes!” After days and days of fancy food and finger sandwiches, fish and chips was just perfect. The ideal amount of grease and calories and she was up for it.

He winked and slanted his head to announce their descent.

“There,” he inched nearer and ran his hand from the top of her head of her to her sides, brushing her hair down as he did, “you look like a rockstar.”

There he was, it was as if the clouds had somehow lifted and she for the first time saw him for who he really was. All pretences stripped away. Nothing but his friendly charm, his familiar support, she felt as if she was coming home to an old friend. She could feel his body radiate as they stood close and noted how a soft frown came over him, his eyes scanning her expression.

Her heart skipped a beat. Actually more than one.

Oh, for Pete’s sake! Pull yourself together Charlotte!

She was acutely aware of their proximity and the crazy things it started doing to her, she was even more aware of individuals that kept on roaming around, closer and closer still.

“I erm,” she croaked, “I think you have been spotted,” she raised an eyebrow.

“You think?” a frown of disbelief came over him. This was Scotland, he was good in Scotland. There were no paparazzi here. Or were there?

“I erm, I spy some hesitation, I think they’re going to come up closer to make sure,” her eyes concernedly flashed back at him. Beautiful dark orbs mirroring nothing but honesty and concern. Tom nodded.

3. And, in fact, the small group did just what Charlotte had carefully predicted. As usual, Tom was polite and charming. He offered the vacationists a kind word but rapidly apologized himself to the group when he’d noticed Charlotte had started the descent on her own. Though he found it really defined her and her headstrong, independent, I’ll-be-just-fine-attitude, in his heart this was just not right.

Unbeknownst to him, Charlotte’s heart had been beating rapidly in her chest. And the overwhelming need to shake the nonsense out of her head demanding her to do something about it. And soon. So she started walking downhill, rubbing her arms along the way and taking deep breaths while repeating her new mantra in her head.

Oh dear, oh my, do not make a fool out of yourself Charlotte!

She was thankful though, when Tom caught up with her again and escorted her further down the hillside where he proceeded to gladly introduce her to one of his favourite fish and chips shops. It took her mind of her recent embarrassment and, truth be told much more than this, it stilled the appetite she’d been nurturing during the hike.

To Tom it was clear the woman had no shame in enjoying her food. At all. He liked that. And promptly ordered them a couple of Brewdog’s brown beer, because ‘if you’re doing this, you have to do this right.’

Charlotte had her eyes lowered and focused on skewering chips onto her fork when she casually slipped that she was grateful for him taking her around town and curiously questioned him about Fringe. He gladly and enthusiastically informed her.

When they finally set foot into the centre of Edinburgh, ready to immerse themselves into the experience of the Fringe Festival, the amount of visitors in the streets dizzied her. Charlotte had jokingly mumbled she’d go wherever he would lead, Tourguide Tom, just as long he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd.

And so - after only a few minutes mingling in the streets, he’d wordlessly grabbed a hold of her hand. Without looking. She was sure his only agenda was to guide her safely through the mass in the streets. His hand was large and warm and held onto hers with a caring confidence. Charlotte was surprised at the gesture, but gladly succumbed to it. How could a gesture so small, result to an effect this grand. Oh god, this would not end well.

Don’t let go.

4. Tom safely led Charlotte through the crowds on the streets, towards venues she would not be able to find on her own given the chance. Charlotte looked around in amazement at the liveliness of the city and its visitors, willingly following Tom wherever he guided her.

He explained there were a few acts he thought she might enjoy and led the way and Charlotte followed curiously. The venue was - she guessed - an old concert building. Obviously no longer in use. Shame though. It was dark and crowded. The audience was quite diverse which left her utterly clueless on what she was to expect. The viewers were elated though and anxious. An intriguing start…

He ushered her further down the parterre and towards the front of the stage, where she would closer to the music and away from the blinking neons that blinded her and left her under his control. Not that he mind doing just that.

He turned to the right as they got closer to the podium and asked her if she would be alright standing there. She noted it would leave them with a close view of the performers, but they also escaped the harsh lighting thanks to the overlooking balcony, which she did not mind at all.

Relatively soon the spotlights died down and the hall was enclosed into shades of blue. Spotlights brought the audience attention up to the ceiling. Tom however could not help but sneak a peek at her, curious towards her experience, just to see if he had made the right choice with this. Would she be enjoying herself?

He could see her look up above the stage with big curious eyes, and how her lips slowly curved themselves into a wondrous smile as a pair of aerial ballet dancers came tumbling down.

Her smile was only getting wider and wider by the second as she watched the performers play and as the amazement of their craft settled in. She was rapt, there was no denying that.

That smile was all he longed to see. An emotion came across his heart. Not the sense of pride he was expecting, this was different.

Tom brought his gaze back onto the scene himself, until he felt her eyes on him mere seconds later and wordlessly drawing him in. They sparkled and it was all the answer he’d ever needed. They exchanged the broad smile she thanked him with.  

Her eyes conveyed beauty, wondrous amazement, appreciation and pure delight. It warmed his heart because he felt just the same, just looking at her.

The dancers swept the audience away, moving them from cautious emotion to elation and from grief to hope with such a flexible ease.

When the male dancer came tumbling down, some of the spectators gasped and Charlotte was no exception. Her hand was covering her mouth and Tom instinctively ran his hand over her spine, inching closer to ask her if she was alright. She merely nodded, never taking her eyes of the stage.

When the music swelled, implying the woman would follow the man’s path suit, Tom could swear he felt Charlotte tensing up under his gentle touch.

A closer look indeed revealed her hesitating whether or not to keep looking. She ultimately squeezed her eyes shut and turned around slightly, gratefully clasping her hands over his forearms. The viewers gasped once more and she immediately scanned Tom’s expression for clues.

“What happened?"

But Tom only stood, gawking at the stage in stupor.

"What happened?" she pressed on before eventually turning her head back to see what had the growing whispering and gasping behind her back.

She heard Tom, brought back out of his daze, softly whispering “I thought you didn’t want to see this…?”

Dirty tease.

“I’m curious,” she defended as she looked back up to him again, “also, you were no help at all.”

“I’ve gathered that by now,” his lips gently brushed her ear as he mumbled on.

“It’s a problem, I know,” she sighed, “but I hàve to… else I’ll just imagine the worst.”

“You’ll imagine the worst?” he tilted an eyebrow in good humour.

“My imagination is my worst nightmare, I’m afraid…” her eyes twinkled as she joked.

 She could feel his eyes settle on her while he suppressed a laugh. Suddenly she was well aware of the fact that his hand had remained on the small of her back and her hands still clasped over his forearm. She found herself teetering on that fine line between composure and absolute surrender again. How could she not? After spending this perfect night with this charming man...

Glancing back up at him, only to find him looking right back at her, she wondered if she  balancing thin border alone or not. It didn’t help that the music was compelling, or the fact that shades of blue enhanced the mystery within his handsome features.

 Charlotte’s eyes travelled from his eyes to his lips. Everything about him called her in. Even hours prior, on Arthur’s Seat. Like a moth to a flame. She felt her pulse racing, her heartbeat deafening her ears.

She could vaguely see his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but last-minute decided against it. Did he lean in closer or did she? She failed to remember. All she realised was that at some point she was close enough to feel her nose softly brushing against his cheek while her thumbs softly stroked his arms.

Her lips seemed to search out his but neglected to kiss them, instead they hover over his as if to sense whether they would fit, whether he would consent? Her eyes fluttered shut when she finally did dare to sweep her lips onto his.

It felt as if the world suddenly had stopped turning, as if all sound had left the venue and nothing else existed apart from them. There. Together.

It was silly, impulsive maybe, but there was no way running back from it now. And if all went to hell, well then, let it. At least she would feel no regret. After a while.

When her lips left his, she stood frozen for a moment, eyes closed, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell and afraid of how he might react.

Images of the World Cup Semi Final Party drift back into her mind. Sensations of a satisfying, yet tipsy kiss. Much less chaste than the one they shared now. But just like that night, she pulled back a little. And when she did dare to search his eyes again, she found they simply glistened at her in honesty; radiating warmth and looking at her lovingly.

His thumb grazed her soft lips. His weight shifted closer and she swore she heard him whispering her name while the distance between them was closed once more. He moved his fingers along her jaw, sliding them into the side of her hair when his lips capture hers in return.

Charlotte gladly and unreservedly surrendered to him, to his warmth, his taste, his scent and his touch. She adored how those first few kisses just lingered, although remaining featherlight before their eager lips parted, longing and desperate for so much more.

She easily moulded herself to his rhythm, her fingers drifting over the skin of his neck and proceeding to ghost over his bearded skin.  

She adored the fact that his hands gently but firmly enclosed themselves around her waist, so he could hold her firmly against his own body. Cradling her so devotedly moments before they both lost themselves in a very amorous embrace.

She felt as though her heart might burst.

Good lord. Don’t stop.

The sound of an enthusiastic applause in the venue brought them both back to earth quickly, cruelly ending their passionate embrace.

As the outside world started to slowly seep back in, Tom rested his forehead against Charlotte’s, basking in the sensation of her hand that still remained splayed out on his chest. His fingers combed through her hair and he relished in her sweet perfume that enticed him ever so much.

“We seem to have a knack for bad timing,” he chuckled to her amusement.