When he felt her fingers on his skin, Axe inhaled sharply, watching her intently through his slitted eyes. But the touch was brief, and his lungs barely constricted before Rose dropped her hand again.
"But," he agreed, the corners of his mouth tilted up in a small, humourless smile. "It is… difficult."
It had only been a matter of time until this conversation happened. Axe—he who loathed, feared, and hated all relationships— should now be cheering, or breathing a sigh of relief that it had, but the desire was entirely lacking. The most surprising part of that was that he wasn't surprised he didn't feel that way. Somewhere, at some point in time, when he hadn't been paying attention, an uncomfortable knot had formed inside of him. It pained him only slightly to admit the witch standing next to him could pull handily on the string leading to it.
Therefore, it was a saving grace he didn't have to explore the annoyances, terrors, extreme highs and startling lows that accompanied such knots and entanglements. Feelings were irrelevant if acting on them they created real, pressing concerns. Axe should his head slightly. "No, we … were thinking correctly, that we should no longer see each other," he said. His other hand, propped on his hip, now balled into a fist. "It is troubling—complicated."
That was a truth neither of them could deny.
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