A Disappointment

It was a hot and dry day in northern Malchester. The sun shone down aggressively on the grassy plains and rocky foot hills below. Many considered this a day to be out. Children splashed through streams and laughed in pools, ranchers held an arm against the sun as they herded their cattle from one pasture to another, in the city people milled about in the well maintained streets, laughing and shopping, or perhaps taking a nice lunch break under the shade of a cafe umbrella.

Crestshill was a thriving city. Especially since the introduction of Corsetta Von Darkspire as the head of the duchy. It had become the self proclaimed “Fashion Capital of Malchester”, and everyone seemed to be out enjoying the last good days of summer. Everyone but the duke’s son.

All the windows were shut in the top suite apartment of the jade towers. The breathtaking view that the vantage provided had scarcely been seen by the suite's occupant. The cutting edge technology of the automatic blinds had been used to their fullest potential to block out all natural light. Instead, the panels of one wall reflected the scene of a river rushing through a dimly lit cavern. The sound of the small fountain in the middle of the open room softly bubbled, almost emulating the sound of the rushing waters. Cool blue, white, and green lights seamlessly lit the rest of the shuttered walls.

The floor and furniture was bare. All rugs, blankets, or even throw pillows had been rolled up or tossed aside in closets. And a frigid, almost unbearable cold blew constantly into the room through the state of the art ventilation system.

Seemingly unbothered by this, Jeeves Corsetta sat at his piano, playing a soft and familiar tune. Well. It wasn’t his piano. His piano was gone. The beautiful ivory-white wood that had been carved lovingly and expertly in a beautiful, but simple way - It was all reduced to charcoal. This piano was more modern. A sleek shiny black. It didn’t feel like his, it couldn’t. Jeeves sighed in frustration as he missed another note, throwing himself back into it with added concentration.

He was so focused on the music and his own building frustration that he didn’t hear the front door, or the soft click of shoes echoing through the room. He jumped as the overhead lights suddenly flipped to their normal brightness and abruptly cut off his melody. He rose quickly to his feet to see what had caused it.

“Oh, Jeeves…” Bernadette whispered, standing huddled at the edge of the room. Jeeves stopped short and stood speechless, then quickly averted his eyes.

It wasn’t her face that bothered him anymore, but the sense of shame that built up in him as he saw her standing there. She was wearing a beautiful dress and expensive shoes, clutching a replica of her favorite bag against her hip. She wore long gloves and in one hand she gripped her sun hat, a pair of sunglasses, and a face mask. She had taken them off upon coming inside. One could argue such accessories were to guard against the sun, or perhaps to hide her identity as a model in just the city where everyone would recognize her. But really, it was to hide the scars.

Jeeves crossed the room to his fiancé, reaching out to touch her arm. But he recoiled, her fur still prickled with heat from the oppressive sun outside. Jeeves sucked in sharply and closed his eyes as his heart rate picked up. Bernadette waited patiently for him, but Jeeves could sense her disappointment, and that cut into him. He opened his eyes and looked at her with despair. She studied him sadly with her remaining eye.

She held his gaze and reached with one hand to turn the lights back down to what he had set them to. “Here.” She said, passing him. Jeeves turned to watch her, feeling as though he wanted to shrink and hide. Bernadette came up and sat on the rim of the fountain, pulling the long gloves off and revealing more burn scars. She stuck both hands into the cold water, letting it stream through her fingers and up her forearms. Then she turned back to look at Jeeves and gestured with her head. “Come on.”

Jeeves approached and knelt beside her. She cupped his face in her now cool hands and kissed him. Her face was still warm, but the cold air blowing around him and the water in her fur kept the bad memories at bay. Jeeves kissed her again, rising up on his knees and resting an arm on the edge of the fountain. After a minute or two Bernadette pulled away.

“Jeeves, can we have what we used to have again?” She whispered. She wasn’t crying, but there was an edge of sorrow in her voice. Jeeves ached, feeling the shame claw at him again. He moved to sit on the fountain with her, swinging a foot over and soaking one of his legs in the water as he pulled her against him.

“I would really, really love that, my love.” He mourned. But he couldn’t keep holding her like this. She was too hot. He had tried with everything he had to not recoil when they’d been kissing, but the heat of her breath and the lingering heat of the sun on her fur was now too much.

“Darling? Are you shaking?” Bernadette asked with worry as Jeeves tore himself away from her, submerging his other leg in the freezing water. He wanted to throw himself into it completely, or at least splash his face. But he couldn’t do that in front of Bernadette. His skull and chest internally burned. And his legs burned with cold. “Darling you’re hurting yourself.” Bernadette said more assertively, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t, Beloved I-” Jeeves doubled over and clutched his head. He tried to shove the heat inside of him away, to crush it into nothing. But instead he just shook. He could hardly breathe. “I just- cannot.”

“Jeeves.” Bernadette commanded. She forcefully pried him out of his huddle and yanked his legs out of the cold water. Then cupped her hand and splashed the water into his face. Jeeves gasped at the sudden wave of cold as he was doused. “Breathe slowly.” Bernadette ordered, marginally more gently. Jeeves closed his eyes and took gradually slower breaths, focusing on the cold of the air conditioning blowing through his wet fur and clothes. Bernadette stayed beside him, and he began to cry.

“I love you, Bernadette.” He sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He sensed the disappointment grow in her again, and he cried harder. Bernadette took his hands in hers, and Jeeves opened his eyes to stare at them. To see his twisted and scarred hands. The burns had healed, but the skin was still warped and tight, his fur still grew in patches, and he still couldn’t quite play like he used to. He hung his head in further shame. He may have lost his healthy hands, but Bernadette had lost even more.

He kept his home cold, he hid from the sun, he submerged himself in the frigid water until he couldn’t feel. He did all this to cope when he began to panic. But he also did it because it hurt. And he deserved to hurt for disappointing the love of his life. Over and over and over again.