The Atonement of a Writer

17. Quiet

He was taking a quiet walk by himself. These days, he had a lot of alone time, and when left alone with his thoughts, he had come to a realization that was, admittedly, a long time coming.

He frowned slightly when he heard familiar voices talking ahead of him. He didn't know they had visitors.

He crept up and spied two figures, walking quite close together, one male and one female. They were talking in low voices, so he couldn't hear exactly what they were saying.

However, he could see quite clearly who they were. He froze in his spot when the male reached out to brush her hair back. The female slapped his hand playfully and reached up to muss up his hair. They both laughed and leaned into each other, at a distance too close to be just friends.

It was then he came to another realization.

He was too late.

~*~

Arielle had changed. And Killian wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not.

They were on the road heading south. Everyone was on horseback, which only worried him more. Arielle had only just begun to master riding a horse--she couldn't be used to it yet. But she never complained, even though they had been riding for hours more than usual now.

She looked far from complaining, he thought with a barely held back grimace. Because Clovis and Arielle were leading, they rode in the very front. Him, being friends with both of them, plus being the personal healer for the prince, rode just behind them. He was at the exact distance to get a perfect view of their budding camaraderie.

At first, things were tense between them, probably because of whatever Arielle said to him the last time they met. But, in true Clovis fashion, he laughed it off and striked a conversation about a different topic with her. Gradually, Arielle relaxed and now, they were laughing like old friends.

Killian wondered when the last time they'd laughed together like that was.

He still remembered the week she had stopped talking to him altogether. At that time, he'd been confused, not to mention hurt. What had he done wrong to make her act that way? Before that, the longest silent treatment she'd given him was a few hours, and that was when they were kids, and he had eaten the last donut. She had quickly forgiven him afterwards, when he got the baker to bake a dozen just for her.

Later, at the birthday party, Arielle had told him it wasn't his fault, but still gave no clear reason as to why she was acting strangely. Then, she got framed for poisoning the prince's drink. Literally everyone knew she was being framed at that moment--but Clovis had to lock both her and the servant up, if only to take action, prevent a mass panic and let the real perpetrator relax in hopes of rooting them out. It was all in vain, though, and Arielle suffered for nothing.

Arielle changed. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when, but it happened. She became less confident in herself--it showed in her speech and manner. On one hand, it made her less reckless, but it worried him that something happened for her to lose confidence. It didn't settle well with him that he didn't know what was going on. She rarely told him anything anymore, not unless she had to. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he never pushed--but sometimes, the burning need to know and to solve her problems for her was still there.

She wasn't as blunt and straightforward as she usually was with him, and she became quieter. Though occasionally her usual playfulness showed, it still felt like he was being held at an arm's distance--so close, yet so far. They had, for quite some time now, been growing apart--yes, that was exactly it.

It was like she never showed herself in front of him anymore. Even though her actions remained mostly the same, he was being held at an emotional distance, and every attempt to get close on his side was gently rebuffed. She was living emotionally removed, as though she couldn't bear to let herself get attached to anyone.

She looked at him, but she didn't see him. It was like his importance to her had diminished overnight. Or maybe, a small voice in his head said, it was always like that, and you're only now noticing.

He told that voice to shut up. Maybe it was a part of growing up, he reflected. Even childhood friends like them drift apart when growing up. He envisioned a future where they spent less and less time together, until gradually, they weren't speaking anymore, each busy with their own lives.

No.

No matter what, he couldn't see it. Arielle was such an integral part of his life he couldn't imagine it without her. Everywhere he turned, there was always some trace of her. She was more than just a friend. She was family.

Watching the two of them in front of him, his resolve quietly strengthened. Whatever Arielle thought of him now, he would continue to do his part. He would always support her no matter what she did. No matter how much she changed, he would do his best to stay by her side and help her. Even if she rejected his help, he would still be on the sidelines cheering her on. If she got hurt, he would heal her and be her crutch. If she said jump, he would ask how high. He would smile and support her as she walked off with another man, even though deep inside, his heart was being trampled on.

More importantly, he would keep all this to himself. He would never burden Arielle with his feelings, not when she already had so much on her shoulders. He would bear with it alone, and it was a secret he would bring to the grave.

Because that was how much he cared for her.

His heart, from the moment she moved in with his family, had been hers to take and use as she pleased.

If she was happy, then he, too, would be happy, even if it was at his own expense.