The calm chirp of crickets greeted the night through Wendel’s window as he gently tucked himself into his bed. He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts slowly drifting to how he’d met Garson, of his rescue from his anxieties, and of delicate chocolate cake. A smile found his lips, but it slowly faltered. Harsh words, meant for another, gradually cut at him, and he took a deep breath.

“You’re a man! You can’t be sitting around a bakery all day eating honey-buns and sulking in corners! You should be doing something with your life! Get a job! Start a family or something!”

Wendel rolled over on his side, pulling the covers over his head as he stared at the emptiness of the window. Ashleigh’s words were not the first to scratch at the back of his mind. He’d heard them all throughout his life.

“Come on, Wendel! What are you, a pussy? Grab the damn thing!” a man snapped as a young Wendel abruptly dropped the log he’d been inspecting, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I was checking for spiders!” Wendel chirped.

“It’s a fucking log of course there’s going to be spiders!” the man growled as he picked up the log, shoving it at Wendel, “Be a man, and deal with it!”

“I- I’m sorry...” Wendel sniffled, and the man paused.

“Don’t start crying on me or I’ll give you a reason to cry,” he warned, “Now come on, before your mother starts bitching that there’s no firewood in the damn house...”

Wendel let out a heavy sigh, rolling back to stare at the ceiling. His heart beat heavily in his chest, and he slowly raised a hand to it, taking a deep breath. His eyes drifted out to the near wall, where his heavy black coat hung carelessly on a hook, and a small knife rested on its belt. Tomorrow would be a new day, and a chance to try again.

“Can you imagine? A quiet brooding corner, where you can brood by your lonesome and have some nice chocolate...”

Wendel shook his head. Garson’s suggestion was a nice thought, but there would be nothing to gain from the safety of comfort. He closed his eyes, making promises to himself he could only hope to keep, and he tossed back one more time, resting on his side as the night gently drifted away.

~~~

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

“I have to.”

Heavy black boots trudged through dew-covered grass as hazel eyes fixed on the ground beneath them. Black hair clung to pale cheeks, and a well-practiced frown matched with a furrowed brow. Dark brown hair framed the professional scowl of the young man’s companion, but uncertainty rested in his eyes. There was nothing about the young man to earn his friend’s concerned gaze. His back was straight, his eyes were focused ahead, and his hand rested on the hilt of the heavy knife he didn’t know how to use. Yet despite this, Garson couldn’t help the worry that was growing inside of him. It was an inkling, a lingering anxiety he couldn’t understand. He could feel it coming in the air tonight, but it was daytime and there was no Phil Collins.

Wendel pushed the door to the tavern open with more force than he meant to, and he jumped slightly when it smacked against the wall. He gave the bartender a sheepish grin, but he quickly shook it off, remembering his determined scowl. His hand trembled slightly as he slowly stepped towards the corner, but a deep breath steeled his racing heart. He turned, leaning up against the corner with his arms crossed, and one boot pressed against the hard wood. His brows furrowed, his head bowed, and he practiced his glare at the room around him.

He looked dangerous, but moreso than he thought. His hazel eyes were reddened. His hand gripped the hilt of his blade far too tight. He was threatening in the way a rickety bridge is dangerous, or a cracked beam. The pressure in the room could harden coal into diamonds, and he was right in the middle of it.

Garson gulped a bit, but he slowly rested himself in the corner beside his dear friend. Their hands brushed for a moment, and he gasped slightly, but he shook his head clear. He stared at the door, almost forgetting his practiced frown, and suddenly, it opened.

A dark figure walked inside, and Wendel held his breath. Another brooder, wrapped in a dark cloak slowly crept towards them. He paused, glancing about for a moment with a sneer, and he cracked the knuckles on one hand before he approached. Without a word he began nudging his way into the corner, and Wendel nudged back, gritting his teeth as he forced the brooder away. The other growled as he pushed further in, and the two locked in place as Garson tried his best to break them free. The door opened, then shut. None of them noticed in their struggle, but they were all aware when a fourth brooder began nudging his way in.

Wendel’s breathing hitched in his throat as his heart began to race.

“Come on!” Garson whined, “Can’t you just let us brood in peace?”

“What do you think we’re trying to do?” another brooder huffed, “This is the brooding corner, so either make room, or beat it!”

“Please, just this once,” Garson pleaded, “My friend needs this.”

“I need this!” the other brooder growled, but the arrival of another drew their words further from Wendel’s ears.

“Just give us an hour!”

“Buzz off!”

“Get out of the way!”

Wendel’s breath grew shallow as his chest grew tight. Another brooder joined the fray as they all rubbed up against one another.

“Guys, really!”

“If you can’t brood without whining then don’t brood at all! You’re ruining my dark vibrations!”

“People are staring at us. You’re terrible brooders, all of you!”

“Oh I’d like to see you do any better!”

Wendel’s eyes frantically searched for a way out of the crowd, but more brooders were cutting off his path as they all wrestled for the best place. The darkness was surrounding him, but Garson’s words still managed to find him. He reached for them, hoping without hope that his friend’s pleas would sway the others.

“Look! All of you! Please just listen!” his friend’s words were desperate, but strong, “Just give my friend some space!”

“Why should we?!”

“Is he scared?!”

“He’s got anxiety!” Garson’s words cried out in the chaos, and a dark emerald gaze shot to them.

“That’s not our problem!”

“Yeah, if he can’t man up and brood like the rest of us, he’s got no place here!”

Wendel’s stomach dropped. The world fell silent. Tears welled in his eyes as he cinched them shut, and his legs took off on their own. His name cried through the air without notice or care as he crashed through the door, and the air thinned. His arm covered his eyes as his other arm trembled, and he ran to the shadow of the tavern wall, crumbling before it as his tears poured. Time slipped away around him as sobs stained the sleeves of his heavy black cloak, and the world fell from his senses.

“You poor thing...”

Soft words whispered as gentle footsteps approached, and Wendel went rigid, refusing to look up from his drawn knees. He’d hoped the words were meant for someone else. He’d hoped the steps would pass, but a gentle touch sent a chill up his spine, and his eyes shot up to meet a dark emerald gaze.

“I- Wh-who are you?!” his voice cracked as he tried to scurry back, but the wall held him in place, “Leave me alone.”

“Shhh...” a delicate finger pressed against black lips, and the figure before him fell to her knees, “It’s alright. You’re safe now.”

Wendel went a shade of pale as he looked to the woman before him. Dark locks of hair gently graced her delicate face, and an elegant black robe adorned her modest curves. Black polish held nails to match the shadows of her eyes and the darkness on her lips, but warmth lingered in her smile as she gently took his hand. She was beautiful, more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen, but it was not attraction that raced his beating heart. There was something deeper that drew his gaze, and he felt as if he might crack.

“I... are you sure?” he pressed, barely above a whisper, and she assured him with a gentle nod, “Al-... alright. Thank... thank you, err....?”

“Cecillia,” her name slipped from her tongue naturally as she helped him to his feet, “Cecillia Gwell’Irae.”

“Well... Cecillia,” he gave a rather awkward smile as he turned to step away, “It was nice to meet you, but-”

“Please,” her hand gently fell to his shoulder, and he froze as his gaze turned back to the dark beauty before him, “let me treat you to a cup of tea. You might feel a bit better if you do.”

“I-...” Wendel hesitated, glancing about for a moment, but he nodded quietly, and the young woman’s smile grew.

“That’s a good boy,” she hummed, and he paused a bit as she beckoned him to follow, “Come. I know just the place.”