mila_shake_official

Anchor — B Holden.

Published: October 26th 2023, 9:26:49 pm

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There’s something about B that’s oddly comforting. Not odd because it’s them, but odd because there shouldn’t be anything comforting about tonight. Nothing at all. Why? Because Zillah Arryn had her way with you, with all five of you.

She had a game plan and lured you into her trap with ease. Like giving a child sweets, or setting a cat to capture a mouse. Zillah did it with near perfection. The one thing she probably could’ve wished for tonight was that she saw more of a painful reaction from B. The werewolf stood their ground, better than most, better than a lot of people who have entered Ms. Arryn’s lair.

“Did you drive?” you question, B next to you with their hands slipped into their pockets. It’s another bit of small talk the two of you can make without it feeling awkward.

They nod. “I did,” B answers. “But, I think I’ll take a walk before heading back home.” Their eyes go from the street they plan to go down before falling on you again. “You can join me, if you want to, that is,” they utter in a soft tone.

The invitation feels like a warm welcome, one that can engulf you in a hug without their arms needing to wrap around you at all. It’s easy to nod. Almost too easy. But you’re happy to when a small smile breaks out on their lips.

“I’d like that.”

The two of you are walking side by side, during late night, under stars that seem to be shining for you both. Merely looking at the two of you—both looking exquisite in formal wear—anyone would think you’re on a real date. The thought swirls in your mind for a brief moment, so much so that you glance over at B. Only to find they’re already looking at you.

You can’t help but grin. “What?”

B hums, turning back to check where the two of you are walking. “Nothing. Just…”

“Just?”

They pause. “I wanted to know how you’re doing.”

Your brows knit together, and it’s frustrating because the memories of the night you’ve had come rushing back. From the beginning of the night where B agreed to be your date, to getting the note from Zillah and having a postcode revealed to you.

You clear your throat. Now, you know the effect strong emotions can have on the werewolf. But what you’re feeling doesn’t come with an off switch, you almost feel like taking a step back and keeping B at an arm’s length.

“It doesn’t…” B begins, swallowing hard. “What I mean is that you can honest. You know I’m an empath, but it’s fine.”

The cold begins to nip at your arms, enough for you to cross them. “You’re sensing negativity or sadness from me?”

B thinks for a moment, their lips pursed. “I…sense that you’ve had a hard night, and I want you to be okay.”

“You do?”

The question takes B by surprise, as if they’ve just been hit by whiplash. A chuckle escapes them, but it’s a fake one, almost like they’re offended you even asked. “Of course.” They kick a pebble in their path that goes a considerable few feet ahead of you. “It’s not such a surprising thing that I care about you, is it?”

Surprising? Probably not. You, B, and the others were thrown together in an extremely precarious situation. One far from normal. One you couldn’t even come up in your wildest dreams—but here you are—standing beside a werewolf.

But you’d be lying if you said that with B there’s…more. The two of you probably can’t put your finger on it right now, it could be the adrenaline making itself known to you. Or, just you trying to figure out what these feelings mean. Why B feels like such solace to you, and why you hope they’d consider you the same.

“No,” you eventually answer. “I’m okay,” you say. “You know, all things considering.”

B accepts the answer. “For now, I’ll take that,” they murmur, their accent a little more prominent than before. The two of you end up coming towards a small cafe, the only place that seems to be open on this small strip.

They immediately step to the side, reaching a hand out and curling it around the handle. “I take it you didn’t eat or drink anything at the Grand Royalton,” B says. “We could get something.” Their eyes flit over you from head to toe, quickly, almost something you’ll miss if it wasn’t directed at you. “I do feel like I owe you.”

You arch a brow. “Owe me?”

The corner of B’s lips turn upwards a little. “When we worked on Jordan’s jewellers together, you mentioned us getting a hot drink at a cafe some time. I assume that this is that time.”

You and B are the only two in the cafe other than the owner. You’re sitting at a table with two cups in front of your. The heat from the cups warms your hands as you wrap them around it, steam wafts upwards, and it’s another one of those moments where you feel as though you can relax.

“You didn’t tell me if you’re doing alright,” you utter, pulling the cup towards you. “I know that seeing Zillah one on one couldn’t be good for you.”

For once, you see B stiffen up. You almost regret asking. The purple from B’s outfit shines under the cafe lights—bright, vibrant and positive—matching B perfectly. “She’s a piece of work, to say the least.” They pause. “But, yeah. I’m good. I’m okay.” They stop before forcing their mouth open again. “With you. I’m okay with you.”

“I like that,” you blurt out. “That you feel like that with me. I want you to feel like that.”

B takes a long sip of their drink, their gaze sticking to you, unwavering before they set their cup down. “Do you want me to be honest?” they ask.

You don’t know where this is leading, you don’t know what direction at all. “Yes,” you say without hesitation.

B rests their hands on, their gold rings glinting under the fairy lights. Their hands and fingers daring to reach over and take your own, but they keep them to themselves.

“When I was in that room with Zillah, feeling trapped and a little lost,” they say, their voice faltering. “I thought of you. And that thought was enough to latch onto whilst I was there. You did that for me.”

You almost don’t know what to say. It’s a compliment and a half. But, this is different. B’s description of you is something else entirely. The two of you have been through, are going through, more than most—and yet you were the anchor they craved. The one they needed. The one they hung onto and found the shore. In a sweet cafe with pretty lights, delicious drinks, and someone to feel like home.