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There was only one thing that Annabel Lee knew for certain, and it was that she loved Lenore to the ends of the world and back.
Nothing could ever stop her from loving her so, and her longing and desire only grew each day they spent apart, watching each other from either side of the rift between them. They weren’t supposed to be together, forbidden love that was never meant to be, and yet here they were, tantalisingly close yet oh so far from each other. Opposite sides of the classroom, merely brushing past each other in the hallways with hidden lingering touches - yearning glances thrown across the dining hall - they were opposites in every way, destined to watch each other from afar with only stolen moments in between for comfort.
And Annabel had felt Lenore watching her all day.
She wasn’t exactly subtle, never was to Annabel’s eyes, and she had caught every one of Lenore’s wayward glances and hidden looks, eyes chasing her desperately and pleading for her to stay close for just a little longer. Lenore was getting desperate, she could tell, the way she was beginning to struggle at keeping their ruse of mortal enemies up, stumbling over her words and floundering for what to say. Why, the day before Lenore had nearly called her pretty in front of everyone instead of whatever she had intended to say.
She had seen the other things too, the small quirk of Lenore’s eyebrows and the little smiles and grins every time either one of them had been caught staring. Seen the way Lenore sometimes wore her necktie teasingly low or styled her hair in that one particularly tousled way that Annabel loved, had seen all the little written notes of poems and sweet nothings that had snuck into her pockets or notebooks - or anything Lenore could find to hold them really.
There were always traces of Lenore lingering around her. Even now, holed up in one of the many little common rooms, the pitter-patter of rain against the windows and fire roaring within its hearth, casting shadows along with the dim lights that kept the room alight against the slowly darkening sky, Annabel could feel Lenore’s eyes on her.
Annabel, sitting on a small, comfortable chair near the fireplace, glanced up from her book. It was a small pleasantry she had indulged herself in as it was a rare evening where she had been fully left to her own devices with no prying eyes of her teammates. A quick scan across the room, sparsely populated by only a few students, led her to the familiar form of Lenore.
Lenore was draped over a large chaise in the shaded corner of the room, legs kicked up and leaning back against the armrest comfortably. She held a book of her own, a large, plain but elegant and bound in leather. It was full of old, yellowed pages that had thinned considerably with age. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the kind that spoke of hushed words and wandering hands, peeking out at her from atop her book.
‘You’re enchanting.’ She mouthed over at her.
Annabel felt her face heat up despite her best efforts to mask it.
Lenore merely smirked over at her, clearly growing more pleased with herself even after she received a glare in response. It was half-hearted at best, Annabel knew, for she could never truly bring herself to glare at Lenore after saying something like that.
Lenore didn’t stick around for much longer after that, snapping her book shut loudly and making a show of getting up to leave. It was impossible not to catch the brief look Lenore sent her over her shoulder. She knew what it meant without even having to try.
‘Follow me.’
Annabel sat there for a while longer, feigning a sudden newfound interest in her book, the subtle ticking of the grandfather clock on the far side of the room chiming throughout her head like a looming, endless threat.
Ten minutes. Ten minutes and she could leave to meet Lenore. Ten minutes until she got to bask in the warmth of her lover's arms.
Ten minutes too long.
It took a painstakingly long time for those minutes to pass, each one dragging more than the last and turning her heart heavy with anticipation. She wanted oh so dearly to just stand and run after her, but she knew she couldn’t. They had rules, ones that were never to be broken. They were there for a reason, to keep them safe, to protect their perfect little hidden ruse, and- and-
Oh, screw the rules!
Annabel closed her book, standing up abruptly. She couldn’t wait any longer. Surely it had been long enough to not raise any suspicions, and as such she let her legs carry her out without any resistance or fight.
The hallways were long, never-ending with their twists and turns, the kind of place you’d surely get lost in if you weren’t careful. The sound of her shoes against the hardwood floors echoed against the walls that were filled with a few sparsely populated paintings left littered around, grand coiling pillars and beams guarding the hallways with their strength and beauty. It was familiar, faintly at least, finding herself trailing through these hallways, the way it looked - the way it felt - with tall doorways and long stretches that never ended. Why, if it weren’t for the lack of maids or staff running about, Annabel would have felt right at home.
She still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
It didn’t take long to follow the trail her beau had left her, hidden behind many doors and twists and turns. Sometimes she wasn’t quite sure how she knew where Lenore was, but she found her every single time without fail.
It had led her to a small room, far in the east wing of the school, hallways increasingly empty and barren as she went and everything covered in a sheen of dust. Pushing open an old, almost broken door at the end of the corridor that looked as though it had been previously boarded up, she found herself in what had likely once been someone’s personal library, if the mahogany desk and the comfortable armchair in the corner had anything to say about it. Well, that and the books, walls full of all kinds of material and different colours. Yes, books were very much the key feature of a library, after all. The only other notable thing was the upright piano pressed against the back wall, dusty and long forgotten, surely in need of dire care if the sorry state of its dulled ivory keys told her anything.
Countless trinkets and models of extravagant contraptions and the like filled the room, a large, wooden globe pushed into the corner. Papers upon papers littered the desk, tossed about and covered in the spillage of long since dried ink that had fallen to the carpet below, books clattered to the floor without a care in the world. It was an eerie thing, realising that whoever had been here last had left in such a hurry, and panicked too, no doubt. The ink stains faintly shaped like footsteps and the traces of it smeared across the door handle, likely by whoever had been using said ink, was all she needed to paint the picture in her mind.
The walls were plastered with a dark emerald colour, a deep and imposing yet dull shade that made the room seem bigger than it really was. If it weren’t for the patterned stripes and the covered window at the back of the room, Annabel would have struggled to know where the walls truly began and ended, what with the lights that dim. In fact, the only working lights here seemed to be small oil lamps and half burnt candles that Lenore had likely lit herself.
Speaking of Lenore, leaning against the wall with her hands in her pockets, looking her usual enigmatic and stoic, yet oh so bewitching self, leg propped up against the wall, Annabel wasted no time in launching herself into the arms of her lover with such force that would have surely knocked them both over if not for the wall.
Lenore let out a soft noise as her back hit the wall, quickly circling her arms around Annabel to catch her, and looked down at her with a small smile. They stayed like that for a while, simply basking in the peace and quiet of their own little bubble.
It was sort of ironic, really, that the only places they could ever find themselves alone in were usually wrecked or broken, left in a sorry state of disrepair or panic. It felt like the world was taunting them, mocking them and their love, but Annabel found she could no longer bring herself to care. Tragic and star-crossed it may be, always clouded by those who sought to seek their ruin, she had to admit it was painfully beautiful. If it weren’t for the fact that she was living it right now, Annabel would have thought it to be a tale of some dramatic fairytale in a book or stage play.
“You’re early.” Lenore said, pulling back to hold her face with one of those large, spindly hands of hers. They were always cold to the touch, the kind of cold that made you jolt at the sudden contact and sent shivers down your spine, but Annabel couldn’t pull away - never did - for she found a strange comfort in them, in the familiarity. It drew her in, always impossibly gentle and full of love.
“I couldn’t wait any longer.” She breathed out, allowing her head to rest against Lenore’s chest, the taller woman’s chin placed atop her head.
Lenore let her stay there for a while, simply holding her close and entertaining herself with twirling a lock of curled, golden blonde hair around a finger. Annabel didn’t mind, she was too content with burying her face into Lenore’s neck as best she could to care.
She couldn’t help but spend a moment inhaling a deep, long lungful of Lenore’s scent, an intoxicating fragrance that lingered in the back of her mind. It reminded her of a new book, fresh off the shelf, or perhaps parchment melded with a hint of ink and a creeping, faint edge of woodsmoke. She knew it even through the smell of all the musty books around them, it had been ingrained into her brain for quite some time now. Sometimes it reminded her of an old building, full of mystery and wonder, long spiralling stairs and endless hallways - it was a melancholic feeling, tunnelling into her heart with a painfully serene feeling. There was always something lingering underneath it though, a strange, underlying tingle of sweetness - teetering on the edge of being sickly so - that she could never quite place. Lenore had never elaborated whenever she asked, offering merely a shrug of the shoulders in a way that said she knew more than she was letting on.
She never pushed for more, she didn’t want to risk upsetting her.
Annabel finally pulled away with bated breath to look up at Lenore, tracing her eyes over every crease and angle of her face, her pointed nose and sharp jaw, stark, pale skin and those little beauty marks that lay beneath her eyes. Her adam's apple was impossible not to stare at, bobbing whenever she swallowed. Annabel found it added quite a lot to that masculine charm of hers. Sometimes she longed to reach out and touch it.
Her hair was tousled into a perfectly messy style in such a way that told her Lenore had likely styled it as such beforehand, those beautiful wisps of black and white hair clinging to the back of her neck and sticking out with little flyaways.
Briefly trailing down to the delicate collarbone that she couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on, she pulled up to return to Lenore’s face, drinking in everything within sight, unable to tear herself away from those sullen eyes of endless swimming oceans of sapphires, the kind that could be impossibly soft yet terrifyingly harsh at the same time. They shone with a glimmer of admiration and twinkled with an edge of mischief.
She could get lost in those eyes, she really could, and she’d willingly hand herself over every damn time.
Lenore yelped suddenly, drawing back with a start as Annabel thwacked her dully on the chest with the back of her hand, scoffing out a noise of mock offence at Lenore’s pearls of pleased laughter. “Absolute lecher, you are!” She exclaimed. “Staring at me like that all day without any decorum!”
“What can I say, you’re a sight to behold. Not even the sun herself could compare to your beauty.” Lenore enthused, swaying her hands out with a dramatic movement.
“You simply are the worst, you know that?”
“Oh the horror!” Lenore gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to her forehead. “Such a leering mountebank, I am - nay , a swindling rogue who-“
Annabel reached to hit her again, and Lenore fumbled in-between her laughs to try grab her by the wrist, drawn up onto one foot and arms shielding her front from any flying hands.
“Alright, alright, I give! I give, you win!” She laughed, finally catching Annabel by the wrists.
Annabel merely huffed and turned her nose up, pulling her hands away to brush her skirt down. “Yes, well, it’d do you good to give in once in a while.”
Lenore chuckled, leaning back against the wall and snaking an arm around Annabel’s waist. “Only for you, my dear, only you.”
They stood there for a brief moment, quiet breaths in the burrowing silence, before Annabel finally reached up to tangle her hands in Lenore’s hair, pulling her down gently until their lips met.
It was a gentle thing, pressed flush against each other and drinking in each other's essence and warmth. It felt like all those days - weeks - of waiting to see each other again had finally paid off. Annabel wanted nothing more than to stay there and get lost in it for all eternity.
“I missed you.” Lenore mumbled against her lips, hand cradling Annabel’s cheek close.
“My company or the kisses?” Annabel teased, grinning at the way it made her blush.
“I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” She grumbled, letting her hands slide down to hold Annabel’s arms by the elbows.
Annabel laughed lightly. She didn’t even need an answer.
“Well it’s not like you can talk!” Lenore cried out indignantly. “You’re even worse! You nearly got us caught last time!”
“Oh please,” Annabel waved off. “, it was only one kiss.”
“In the middle of the common room?” Lenore asked, eyebrows hiked upwards.
“No one saw! It was fine!”
She rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall once again and folding her arms as Annabel took a moment to explore the room around them. “Keep telling yourself that, Miss Annabel Lee. It’ll come back to bite you one day.”
“Then let it.” Annabel said plainly, running a hand along the desk next to her.
It was an interesting desk, in all honesty. Clearly old and left unused for a long time, yet there wasn’t a speck of dust on it in sight. A glance over to the parchment left haphazardly across it gave her no other clues, the writing on them was a muddled mess of chicken scratch, and any that wasn’t was marred by spilt ink or coffee stains.
If Annabel was alone, she surely would have spent all evening trying to figure out the mystery of it all, but instead she was drawn out her internal musings by arms circling around her waist, the familiar form of Lenore pressing up against her from behind.
“You’re fascinating to watch when you think, you know that?” Lenore said, placing her chin on Annabel’s shoulder to look at the desk. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing important, pet, just curious. Tell me, how did you find this place?”
Lenore shrugged once more, swaying them both side to side gently. “I wanted to find a new place for us and wandered over to it. It intrigued me, so I entered. Why? Do you not like it?”
“Quite the contrary, pet, I find it riveting.” She assured her. “Do you make a habit out of sneaking off into abandoned hallways and rooms or do they just call out to you?”
“Only the dangerous ones.” Lenore teased, moving to spin Annabel to face her. “But I suspect you find that captivating too, don’t you?”
“Oh, I find everything about you captivating.” She answered without missing a beat. “Not a day goes by where you’re not spread throughout every corner of my thoughts. Why, it’s a wonder how you don’t get tired from running through my mind all day.”
Lenore rolled her eyes fondly, for once a blush not rising to her cheeks at yet another of Annabel’s ridiculous lines. She let her slip free from her grasp as she crossed over to the plush, comfortable looking armchair that resided in the corner.
“Sit with me?” Annabel asked, gesturing for her to come near.
“And do what? There’s only one chair. I couldn’t possibly deny a lady a place to sit.”
“Nonsense, pet.” She waved off, drawing the taller woman into her arms. Besides, you need it more than I do.”
Lenore’s brow furrowed, only resisting ever so slightly as Annabel guided her backwards. “Whatever makes you think that?”
Annabel slid a hand down to lay on Lenore’s hip, squeezing ever so gently. “It’d do you good to rest, would it not?”
Lenore merely stared at her, returning to that stoic expression of hers that folded into something much more stony and guarded. There was something there beneath her eyes - in the crease of her brow - that Annabel couldn’t quite read despite her best efforts to do so.
It was maddening.
Annabel gasped as Lenore turned, nearly pulling her off her feet with a tug and sweeping her up into her arms with a sudden spin. She floundered to keep up with Lenore’s speed, nearly tripping over her own feet as she glided across the rug underneath them.
“Lenore, what on earth are you doing?!” Annabel demanded, unable to tear her eyes away from the chaotic grin on her face.
“Dance with me!” Lenore chirped, unable to mask the laugh that bubbled from her throat.
“You barely know how to dance!”
“Then teach me!” Lenore challenged, already bringing Annabel into a slow rhythm of shuffling feet.
Annabel could only shake her head in amusement as Lenore dragged her along, trying to keep up with the near deranged pace of her partner as they pranced around. It was an odd thing, really, dancing with someone without a note of music within earshot, but it was exhilarating nonetheless, the kind of thing that made one’s heart race at the sheer silliness of it, but she couldn’t deny that it had Lenore written all over it, stealing her away just to dance like a lunatic in some dusty old room and sweeping her off her feet like a dashing rogue.
Lenore spun her around by the hand, following in a loose spiral to guide her around with a twirl. The sway of their feet loosely resembled a waltz, pace ever so slightly off, sure, but that was no fault of theirs with the absence of music. In all honesty, Annabel really didn’t mind. She’d much rather indulge in a silent forbidden waltz in a cluttered little room with her one true love instead of dancing in a suffocating ballroom with waves of men she couldn’t even care to remember the names of.
She gained her bearings a little more as Lenore slowed down, leading her into a more manageable pace of back and forth. It came as a surprise to her ears to hear a soft, mumbled melody of a tune being hummed from Lenore’s lips, radiating down to settle in her chest, and Annabel couldn’t help but rest her ear against it in attempt to get closer, the sound vibrating throughout her bones. No matter how many times she heard it, she really couldn’t ever get enough of Lenore’s voice, always full of that enchanting lilt of rasp twinged with sweetness. Sometimes she wished she could get lost in the sound and never come back.
Annabel was pulled into one final twirl by Lenore, and she yelped as Lenore spun herself this time, moving to sweep her fully off her feet as though she was a bride. She clung to the front of Lenore’s blazer as she felt them begin to fall backwards, and she barely caught the shriek in her throat as Lenore flopped into the armchair behind them, entirely breathless and faces flushed from all the excitement as they landed in a clamber of limbs and cushions.
Annabel laughed tiredly into Lenore’s chest, weaselling in closer to slot her face into the gap under her chin, pressing a slow kiss to her neck.
Lenore, just as breathless - even more so in fact - laughed along with her, nestling down into the cushions below and tossing her head back to look up at the ceiling. She swallowed down a deep breath, reaching up to wipe her hair from her forehead, and wrapped her arms around Annabel.
“See? I can dance.” Lenore huffed smugly into her ear. Her voice always made Annabel’s ears burn with redness. It was deep and fluttering, a tone rich with an air of deviltry and rascality. It was full of husk, carrying a hint of rasp and husk laiden beneath it. It often sounded hoarse, as though her voice strained to keep up with all the words she had to say. There had been many times, especially in the early days, where Annabel had been worried for her, fearing the hoarseness had been a sign of sickness or pain, but she knew by now that it was simply how her voice naturally sounded on a daily basis, as peculiar as it was. Though Lenore was a peculiar person in her own right, defying every damn social norm and lick of common sense thrown against her as though it was simply a game or a challenge.
Annabel sighed softly, content to lay there with her legs draped across an arm of the chair, Lenore’s elbow resting against the other one with her arm propped around Annabel’s back to hold her close. She fiddled with a loose thread on Lenore’s jacket, pulling it away until it came cleanly off. Lenore didn’t seem to mind though, simply letting her do as she wished.
She practically purred as Annabel reached up to card her fingers through her hair, twisting and sliding through the messy locks of raven hair, occasionally slipping down to play with the white silvery locks below.
Lenore only seemed to enjoy it more and more as time went on, snuggling her face up into Annabel’s hands when they cupped her face. She brought a hand up to hold a wrist, nuzzling her face into them like a cat pushing for affection and attention, eyes closed in bliss.
Annabel spent a moment letting her eyes drift over Lenore’s eyelashes, long and luscious without even trying, and her bowed lips stained in a soft wine red that never seemed to fade. Oh how she loved them so.
Lenore squeaked softly when she was pulled into a languid kiss, eyes flying open briefly in surprise before she relaxed into it, taking in a quiet breath through her nose and shuffling about for a better angle to truly enjoy it.
“Play something for me.” Annabel said suddenly as they pulled away, letting a hand slip down across her angled jaw to cradle her sharp chin.
Lenore let out a confused, slurred sound, clouded in a daze and chasing Annabel’s touch as she pulled away, only subdued by a delicate hand pressing back against her sternum to hold her still.
“What?” She asked, looking absolutely bewildered.
“Play something for me.” Annabel repeated, nodding her head over to the piano sat across the room.
Lenore’s face fell, suddenly looking a lot more timorous and mousy as she glanced away. “I can’t. Someone might hear, and- I- Annabel, it’s an old piano, for heaven sakes, it likely barely even works -“
Annabel pouted, leaning in and pulling Lenore’s hands into her own. “Please? For me? Just this once?”
Lenore stared at her with a cautious look in her eye, almost looking as though she wanted to refuse. They gazed into each other's eyes for a few moments, Annabel pleading, and Lenore weary.
She sighed eventually, giving in under the begging eyes of her love, and tousled her own short hair indignantly. “Fine. But just this once. Let me up?”
Annabel let out a near squeal, the type of sound she’d never dare to make in any other company, and moved to stand up, pulling Lenore onto her feet quickly and practically dragging her over to the piano.
It was a dusty old thing, wooden frame scuffed and scratched all over. It had clearly seen better days, if the slight warping on the wood of its legs were anything more to add. The keys weren’t much better off either, chipped and stained, and Lenore didn’t even have to press any to know they’d be horrifically out of tune. It was odd, really. Despite being so clearly mistreated and near disrepair, Lenore couldn’t find herself to be particularly mournful over it, for it spoke a strange form of beauty in its own right, full of despondency and gloom as it waited - begged - to be played.
The bench wasn’t much better off, and Lenore took a moment to pat away some dust from it, holding her breath so as to not cause a coughing fit. It creaked and moaned under her weight, barely holding itself together. She spent a moment doing the same for the ivory keys, cold to the touch, and cleared them quickly of most of the dust.
The bench wobbled when Annabel, after smoothing her skirt down, moved to sit next to her, though facing the opposite way with her back to the keys. Lenore clung to the piano for stability, sending her a light-hearted glare. Annabel took no mind to it, simply nudging her playfully.
“Come now, stop dilly-dallying and play something for me!” Annabel grinned, leaning against her.
Lenore flexed her fingers, hands trembling slightly as she swallowed with a suddenly very dry throat, looking a tad queasy. “Alright, just- no making fun of me, okay? It’s been a while since I’ve played and this poor thing is in need of dire care.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, pet.” Annabel assured, still smiling.
Lenore offered her a small crooked smile in return and turned back to the keys of the piano, trailing her fingers over them to get a better feel of them. It really had been quite a while since she had played. In fact, she barely knew what to play!
After a few moments in silence, nothing but the sound of quiet breaths to entertain the silence, the keys finally sung out in dissonance as she pressed down on them.
It was a strange melody, Annabel decided, and while the state of the piano certainly influenced it, she found she actually quite liked the way it sounded, full of a haunted and otherworldly charm she couldn’t even begin to name. It filled her ears with its mournful sound, washing over her like crashing waves in a morose and powerful sway.
It was utterly bewitching.
It sang of pain and heartbreak, aching of loneliness longing, and distantly it reminded Annabel of the sea, wayward ocean winds breezing through her hair as it danced with her, warm sun bathing down on her skin while she gazed over sullen beaches of white sand. It made her heart ache, chains of a painful desolation and woe tightening around her, yet she found she simply couldn’t turn away, unable to do anything other than chase the bittersweetness that lay underneath, carrying its mournful tune of love and loss.
Annabel let her eyes flutter shut to bask in the melody, leaning against Lenore’s frame as she played. It left a dreadfully familiar feeling in her heart, settling deep down inside and clinging to her as it sank in its claws. For the life of her, she couldn’t seem to figure out why it plagued her so.
‘You may find it lacking without the melody of the violin, but I can still hear it.’
‘Well, I think you make a lovely soloist.’
‘You do?’
‘I do. Although, well…’
‘What is it?’
‘Would you do something for me?’
‘Anything.’
‘Could you write me a song, Lenore?’
Ah. Of course. The blade of sorrow twisted in her heart again, and a part of her couldn’t help but grow warm at the broken memory. She had asked her dear Lenore to write her a song, and she had been rejected. She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted this to be the song her beau had written for her, for she didn’t know if she could handle the thought of such a bittersweet and melancholic melody having been written about her, though her heart raced all the same at the thought of the possible gift.
She allowed herself a slow breath through her nose as Lenore’s playing drew to a stop, eyes opening once more to look up at her beloved, still the unsure and anxious mess she had been before playing.
“Was that alright? I know I’m a bit rusty, but-“
“You really do make a lovely soloist, don’t you?” Annabel interrupted, smiling at the way Lenore stiffened ever so slightly.
She turned to face her, unable to hide the faint hint of surprise in her eyes before they softened into something so much more.
“I do, don’t I?” Lenore eventually answered, looking a tad pleased with herself as recognition sparked within those ravishing eyes of hers. She reached out to ghost her hand atop Annabel’s, smile as roguish and as handsome as ever.
Melancholic indeed.
The piano bench croaked once more as Lenore stood, stretching her back lightly as she offered Annabel her hand. “Come, we haven’t much longer, dinnertime looms. We don’t want to be late.”
Annabel took it, allowing herself to be pulled along gently as Lenore made her way to the doorway.
A sudden spike of adrenaline pierced through Annabel’s heart, and she reached to tug Lenore back quickly, the taller woman yelping as they both stumbled towards the wall with a thud.
Annabel couldn’t help but wince at the sound of Lenore’s back hitting the wall, quickly moving to check her over for any injuries.
She cleared her throat and looked up at her, attempting to keep calm but likely looking a little sheepish. “Apologies, I merely wanted to keep you here a moment longer.”
Lenore offered a quick, reassuring smile, rubbing the back of her head to sooth it. “Of course, the great Annabel Lee slamming people against walls to spend a moment more with them, how ladylike and dainty of you.”
Annabel flushed slightly, huffing as she let her arms circle around Lenore’s neck. “Like you haven’t done the same. Your infamy precedes you, dear Lenore, men and women alike flock at the chance to catch a glimpse of you.”
“Well, now you know that simply isn’t true.” Lenore said, holding Annabel by the waist. “‘Tis only you who swoons for me so. I prefer it that way, and I’m sure you do too. You don’t seem to be very good at sharing.”
Annabel rolled her eyes, reaching up on her tiptoes to press their lips together before Lenore had the chance to make for the door again. She didn’t fight it, letting Annabel have her way with her as she pleased and allowing herself to bask in the closeness of it all. The hands weaving into her short locks of hair only made her long for more despite the looming threat of being late for dinner growing nearer and nearer. Honestly, she couldn’t even bring herself to fully care.
For what were a few more kisses to do?
Lenore let her head fall back as Annabel leaned to press her lips against the underside of her jaw, trailing down to press a sweet kiss against her neck and simply letting her head rest there. She couldn’t help but let a hand rest atop Annabel’s head, ringlets of hair cushioning it. She loved moments like these, quiet and stolen between all the fuss and chaos. Annabel had always been content to call them star-crossed, the hopeless romantic she was, and Lenore could hardly disagree. They did have a startling amount of bad luck, though she supposed that made each moment of good luck worth so much more.
She cupped Annabel’s face within her hands, brushing her thumbs along those delicate cheekbones and pressed a final kiss to those painted lips of hers. She let their eyes meet to share a loving glance. If Lenore ever had to choose one last thing to look at, then it’d be those eyes, pools of serendipity that she alone knew held a much more chaotic and mischievous timbre behind them than Annabel ever let on. Speaking of mischief, Lenore couldn’t help but shake her head lightly at that look in Annabel’s eyes. Whatever she had planned surely had chaos written all over it.
The sound of a deep, thrumming bell echoed throughout the school, yet neither woman sought to pull away, merely choosing to bask in each other's company a moment more.
“I suppose that’s our last call, isn't it?” Lenore mused.
“I wish it wasn’t.” Annabel said, disappointment laced in her voice.
“I know, dearest, I wish it wasn’t either.” Lenore agreed. She stood from leaning against the wall, moving to finally let go and near the door.
Annabel reached out a final time, chasing Lenore’s arm with a delicate touch, one that clearly spoke of how it pained her to let go. “And our next stolen moment?”
Lenore’s gaze softened, twisting her hands around to cradle both of Annabel’s hands within her own. She pulled them up and leaned down to linger a tender kiss atop them. “Soon, I promise.”
“You promise?”
Lenore nodded, raising Annabel’s hands slightly as though to toast the words. “And many more yet to come.”
Reluctantly, Annabel let her go, unable to keep from smiling as Lenore placed one last kiss to her hand as she left.
Lenore was swift as she made her way through all the twisted maze-like hallways, making sure to take the long way around so Annabel could get there quicker. No one would bat an eye at the infamous rebel Lenore being late to dinner, but Annabel however? Well, she’d likely cause more of a fuss.
People stared at her as she entered, as though she had grown a second head, but she ignored it, as it wasn’t anything new. It was a little odd, but people stared at her all the time, and she had grown rather used to it.
It was a simple task to find her friends, hidden away in the far corner of the room in their usual spot with plates already piled high with food. She smiled and shook her head lightly as she eyed the plate they had already filled for her, ladled with more food than their own. It was surely another ploy to make her eat more, they had been quite frequent in taking time to tell her she was far too thin for her own good.
“Finally, I’m famished.” Lenore sighed as she sat down, wasting no time in gathering her knife and fork to dig in.
It took only a few moments for the grating silence that reached her ears to become suspicious, and Lenore looked up at them through a mouthful of food, brow furrowed in confusion.
“What? Is something the matter?” She asked, eyeing the way Duke stared at her across the table with that flat expression of his.
Bernice snickered from behind her hands, and Lenore snapped to look over at her, looking baffled. “What’s wrong?”
Bernice was unable to hold her laughter for any longer, and Lenore scowled lightly as she glanced between them all, Pluto’s soft amused smile as he stared down at his plate, Eulalie’s bursting grin as she bounced in her seat and Morella’s own smile, hidden behind her hands in a subdued emotion that she couldn’t quite place. Duke just looked tired and annoyed, perhaps even a little vexed, but not surprised at all.
“What is it? Is there something on my face?” She asked once more, reaching to try and brush away any debris free from her face with a sleeve.
Bernie’s laughter roared in her ears, Morella’s giggles joining in, and Lenore felt herself begin to grow a tad flush. “For god’s sake, what is it?”
“Oh nothing, mon amie.” Duke began dryly. “Though I must say, I never thought you were the type to wear lipstick. You simply must tell me where you got that particular shade from.”
Lenore’s brow furrowed, trying to figure out what on earth he could be possibly talking about. She’d rather jump out of a window than wear lipstick. His eyes flickered down to her neck, and the gears started turning in her head.
Oh.
Oh!
OH!
With a start, Lenore rushed to slap her hands across the lipstick stains that were surely smeared along her paper white skin, face burning with embarrassment as she tried to hide it, her cutlery clanking against her plate as she dropped them. No wonder Annabel had looked so pleased as she left!
More laughter erupted around the table, and she slid down in her chair, hands covering her face and attempting to draw her blazer around her head much like a certain catlike companion of hers.
Oh dear lord, she was never going to live this down, was she?