Soul Bonded [Claude De Alger Obelia x reader ]

59. Slow Wait

Another empty liquor bottle joined the pile on the table. It shone in the dim light of the room, reflected by the moonlight.

Claude reached for another. This time straight up draining half the bottle in one go.

The burn in his throat and the bitterness on his tongue was gratifying. It fogged his mind. And that's what he wanted. To even for a few minutes, take refuge in complete numbness. His blue eyes glossed over. He took another swig.

Mind clouding, it took his mind off things he wanted to forget. Especially the words of certain someone.

He scoffed. He wasn't even sure why he cared so much. He could brush it off like the nonsense it was and yet here it was playing in his mind in an endless loop.

'Really, Claude you're no different than your own abusive asshole father! Maybe even worse than him!'

His guts twisted. For a moment he felt like throwing up but fortunately, he didn't. He could stomach it. The same dreadful words rang in his mind. Another wave of nausea hit him...Or maybe not.

He was like his father? Bullshit. The mere thought made him want to rip someone to shreds, preferably the one who uttered it.

His hand tightened around the bottle. Mild annoyance flared up, making his head throb.

How dare you compare him to that scumbag? He was nothing like him. Never would be.

'Don't be scared. I'm here. I'll always be here.'

Who was that child to you? You almost threw your life away for her.

Claude gritted his teeth.

Frustration. Annoyance. And something else. A feeling... An inexplicable feeling that had his heart twisting painfully.

He was feeling again. Impossible.

He shouldn't be feeling things. Not after...A sharp pang hit his head. He groaned, rubbing his head. Another damn headache.

A Series of headaches had started since encountering you, and the child that kept him reminded of someone.

Someone he willingly wanted to forget. Or had he forgotten? But who was it?

It was supposed to be another apathetic day for him. Another mandatory routine. But somehow the little unexpected twist in his dull routine had piqued his interest.

But along with the newfound intrigue came annoying, unwanted feelings.

He still remembered the first time he saw you, the avalanche of feelings that slammed onto him. He hid his shock behind the mask of indifference. And the numbness helped too.

He still couldn't shake off the weirdness. The inexplicable sense of loss and longing overwhelmed him when he saw you.

Slamming the empty liquor bottle down, he laid back on the sofa, covering his eyes with his arms.

Dammit. Again with the stupid godawful feelings.

He should just kill you. The very source of every damn thing. Problem solve. Easy and effective.

So why was he holding back? Was it the memories he shared with you that revoked no feelings whatsoever? Time apart should've destroyed that stupid bond. Those memories had no meaning to him. Just like he had no feelings.

That's what he kept repeating to himself.

Whenever he reminisced back, he felt like he was watching someone's else life. Seeing through someone's eyes without the feelings that should have been there but weren't. Memories that should have been warm and colourful instead of the cold, jaded version that kept repeating inside his head.