Work Text:
Mildred still finds it difficult to be as affectionate as Gwendolyn is to her, not because she doesn’t trust Gwendolyn—but because she doesn’t trust what fate has in store for them.
A tried and true literature nerd, Gwendolyn would whisper sonnets after sonnets to Mildred every chance she gets. Mildred sunbathing in their foyer; Mildred hanging their clothes at the backyard; Mildred coming out of the bath; Mildred cooking breakfast; just every chance Gwendolyn can, she takes it. Mildred once caught her doing her little whispers and stares and a built up of blush appear in the apples of her cheeks, “Are you reciting Shakespeare on my behalf?”
Untethered, Gwendolyn offered a sly smile. “Maybe.”
These little moments occur and Mildred knows them by heart and mind, but she cannot always extend the sweetness that Gwendolyn offers because the last time she did, that person betrayed her tenfold. Her brother, Edmund’s whereabouts still a mystery and a pain to her at the same time.
“Penny for your thoughts, honey?” Gwendolyn asked.
“I- I am afraid.”
“Of who?”
“Of losing this, you...” Mildred’s voice is shaken.
“Is this because of him?” Gwendolyn lingers her touch on Mildred’s cheeks, her thumb caressing the apples if Mildred’s cheeks so as to ask for ceasefire on Mildred’s doubts. Mildred reaches for Gwendolyn’s hand, a signal that she needs and wants to be consoled.
“Yes.” Mildred’s eyes swarm with countless tears waiting to pour one by one.
Gwendolyn wiped the tears in Mildred’s eyes before they fall down. She gestured for a kiss and proceed to give a peck on Mildred’s forehead as she murmurs words that Mildred don’t recognise until Gwendolyn whispers in the midst of her recital, “My love, this is Shakespeare.”
“So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet seasoned show'rs are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As ’twixt a miser and his wealth is found;
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure;
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight
And by and by clean starvèd for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight,
Save what is had or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away”
This took away the worry and pain that Mildred was feeling at that moment and she cackles at the comedic innuendo her lover uttered.
She might not be able to return the same gestures right now as her lover does, she knows that both of them sleep on the same bed with the same security that their differences do not mean nonchalance.