There was a bite to the air — winter had started setting in. But it wasn't here yet; that terrible, forlorn season still had some time before it could paint everything an overwhelming white. No, right now, the trees still had their orange leaves, and there were still pumpkins and skeletons out by the houses that weren't ready to let go of the season quite yet.

Rose could understand. She didn't like letting go either.

She could see most of the little town from up on their perch on the roof of the empty house they had found. They had driven almost an hour to get there, so far away from the dorms, and exams, and life. Far away from everything that awaited them. It was a quaint, quiet neighborhood, with white picket fences and little children being called back inside their houses now that night was falling.

"We'll buy this house someday," he whispered, his head resting on top of hers.

"Yeah?" she replied, absently playing with his fingers that rested on the worn shingles of the roof. "And will your house staff of fifty fit in here?"

"Hmm..." He straightened up, looking at her with a small grin. "It's fifty-three, actually. And I'd be willing to cut it down by a few for you, if that's what you want."

"Oh yeah? How thoughtful," she grinned back.

He wrapped his hands around her, pulling her in closer. Up here, in his arms, she could almost pretend like they were the only two people in this world. Up here, they were untouchable.

His grin turned softer, into a smile. "I'd sell the mansion, the businesses, go penniless and run away to some small village with you. Open a bakery, if that's what you wanted."

Rose closed her eyes tight, drinking in the image, the feeling.

But she knew it couldn't happen. Not in this lifetime.

"Don't," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "Don't make that face."

"I want it," she whispered as a familiar pressure started building behind her eyes. "I want to live a life with you. Grow old with you. I want it all, with you. But—"

"Shh. No. No but. You're here. I'm here. That's all that matters. Don't think about anything else," he held her face, his blue eyes holding her captive. And when he looked at her like that, it almost felt possible. A life, a future.

But then the familiar scent of fire filled the air.

"No, please," Rose choked out, her fingers digging into his shirt. "Please," she begged, scrambling to pull him away, pull him into her, and away from the flames that were steadily climbing up the side of the building with a purpose, reaching out their greedy arms towards him. "Don't take him!"

She could barely hear her own sobs as the fire raged higher, an orange hue tinting the dark night sky above them. His eyes held hers still, ever so beautiful, ever so sad. Even as the flames wrapped around him, burning burning burning him away, she could hear his voice, calling out to her.

"Rosaline."

"ROSALINE."

"ROSE—"

Rose gasped, eyes flying open. The morning light was a frigid cold, blindingly bright arrow, piercing straight through her skull. Her eyes shot around the foreign room, trying to grasp onto something familiar. He was there, right in front of her, seconds ago, and now—

"Rose, shit, are you okay?"

Rose took a staggering breath, eyes slowly focusing on the figure hovering over her, a shadow of a man. She blinked once, twice, as reality sunk back in.

Sebastian. The Farmhouse. The bed, that she had seemingly fallen asleep on.

Her grip on the bedsheets loosened as her breathing steadied, and a shame filled red hue flushed her cheeks.

"I'm okay," she breathed out, wincing at how hoarse her voice sounded.

"Are you sure?" Sebastian slowly straightened up, letting Rose scramble up to a sitting position. "You were... You didn't sound okay," he said carefully, eyeing her.

"It's nothing," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "Just a nightmare."

Even saying that felt wrong. Just a nightmare. Was that all he had become?

"It sounded like you were having trouble breathing," the concern was evident in his voice, and it only made Rose want to sink further into the bed. "We have a doctor who lives fairly close by, should I—"

"No! No, no need for that. This isn't anything new. This is just..." she sighed, unsure of how to continue. What could she even say?

"Do you..." Sebastian took a breath, caution lacing the next few words. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A few curls fell down over her face as Rose looked up, gulping as she tried to push down the tightness in her throat. For a moment, she let herself entertain the thought. Imagined what it would be like if she just told him. About her nightmares, about what she did, about him.

No.

"I'm fine," she managed, forcing a smile onto her face. "And I'm hungry. You didn't even bother waking me up for dinner last night," she added, trying to lighten the mood.

Sebastian, too, seemed to be putting in an effort to hide the worry on his face. Theatre kid or not, Seb wasn't a particularly good actor, Rose noted.

"Yeah," he finally said, getting off the bed. "Let's get some breakfast. Mara must have some prepared already."

Rose nodded, and started extracting herself from the tangle of blankets. That was when her eyes fell on the suspiciously untouched other side of the bed.

And the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor.

"Sebastian?" She whipped around to face him, eyes narrowed. "The floor? You slept on the floor!?"

Sebastian opened his mouth the explain, but Rose wasn't done.

"Seriously?" she hissed, storming up to the pile of blankets he slept on. "There isn't even a mattress! I thought we had decided to share the bed?" She shot him a glare, before continuing. "You know what? Fine. I get it. We'll alternate, you can have the bed today, I'll take the floor. A wonderful time we'll have here, with sore backs and terrible sleep."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sebastian breathed, walking upto her. "I didn't..."

"What?"

"Didn't want to disturb you?" he mumbled out, but his explanation sounded weak, even to himself.

Rose narrowed her eyes further. "Unbelievable. No wonder three panicked breaths were enough to catch your attention. You probably hadn't slept all night. But fine. Fine. Don't share the bed. We'll go out today and buy a mattress. I can sleep on that instead."

"What? No. You won't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor."

Rose lifted an eyebrow. "But you can sleep on a couple pillows on the floor?"

"No, that's not what I—you..." Sebastian paused for a beat. "A guest," he finally said. "You're a guest here, you can't sleep on the floor."

"Oh, no no," Rose laughed a dry laugh. "Not a guest. Legally, I'm your wife. You know what that means? You have to listen to me. It's in the Constitution. And I say, either we're alternating, or we're sharing the bed. You don't get to be some floor-sleeping martyr."

Sebastian let out a long sigh, before nodding slowly. "Fine," he caved. "We'll share the bed. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Rose said dryly.

"Now, wife dearest," he said, a small smile forming on his lips as he extended an arm to her. "Do you care to join me for breakfast?"