What had she done what had she done what had she done?

The air in the car was thick, heavy with tension. If Rose had a knife, she was sure she could cut pieces of it like cake. It had been three hours since they started driving, and neither of them had said a word.

It had been three hours since she had kissed him. And then, had proceeded to scamper away, seating herself down on the passenger seat, with no explanation. Of course Sebastian hadn't said a word.

Until now.

"So..." he started, and Rose immediately tensed. "Are we going to talk about this?"

Rose cast a quick look his way, before immediately shifting her gaze back to the snowy landscape outside. "Do we have to?"

She could hear the light tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel. "You're playing real fast and lose with my feelings there, Rose."

If it wasn't for the tinge of humour she caught in his voice, Rose was sure she would've just died. Instead, she whipped her head around, eyes narrowing at the half smile that sat lazily on his lips.

"This is funny to you?"

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Why, would that make you mad?"

Rose stared at him. "I kissed you, and you find that funny? Funny?"

Sebastian chuckled, only adding to her fury. "You barely pecked me, and I find your reaction funny. Is that more amenable to you?"

"Stop the car."

"What? Rose, come on, I was only teasing."

Rose looked at him, her face betraying nothing. "I said, stop the car."

Sebastian blinked, before quickly bringing the car to a stop by the side of the road. "Rose, shit, I didn't mean to—"

There was a soft click of Rose unclasping her seatbelt. 

"Rose—"

But before Sebastian could say anything else, she had grabbed his face with both hands, pulling him down to her height. All the breath seemed to leave his lungs in a soft gasp, and before he could catch it, her lips were on his.

It wasn't a peck, that much was certain.

She parted her lips, a soft breath escaping her as he leaned into the kiss, the seatbelt straining against his chest as he grabbed her waist to pull her closer. She pressed her tongue against his, stealing a taste. A muffled groan escaped Sebastian as Rose ran her fingers through his hair, before catching his bottom lip between her teeth. Each soft breath of air, each tiny noise they made, rose up around them, filling the silent car. 

And then she was gone, settling back down on her seat like nothing had happened, save for the sharp smile cut across her face.

"What..." Sebastian blinked, staring at her. 

Her green eyes had never looked so evil as she tilted her head at him, smirking. He, on the other hand, looked completely disheveled.

"This can be the kiss we don't talk about," she smiled, eyes sparkling.

-🥀-

"Really. If for nothing else, I think people should get married for the gifts."

Sebastian shook his head at the sentiment, looking at Rose with a half smile as she picked up another neatly wrapped present. They had reached an hour or so back after having an early dinner outside. Now, they were both sat on the floor of the living room, hundreds of gifts surrounding them. Rose had expected awkwardness after her back-to-back thoughtless stunts. Had expected unease. But here they were, unwrapping their wedding presents on the floor of his house. Their house. If Sebastian felt anything at all, he certainly wasn't letting it show. And for that, Rose was grateful.

She wasn't quite ready to think, yet. Not about the kiss, not about what it could possibly mean.

"We really should have done this sooner," Rose continued, ripping the colourful paper in one smooth motion. She gasped as her eyes took in the contents—a pink, heart shaped Le Creuset pot. "I am cooking tomorrow," she tittered, picking it up to look at it from ever possible angle. "It's so cute!"

"You are cooking?" Sebastian raised both his eyebrows.

"What? I can bake. How different can cooking really be?"

"This scares me."

Rose crumpled up the wrapping paper into a ball and flung it at his head. Sebastian laughed, ducking it easily.

"I don't think I deserve any of this violence. Especially when I'm already so miserable—all these gifts are meant for you."

"That's not true!" Rose complained, even though he was right. From the many handbags and perfumes and shoes, to the decorative china and dainty crockery, the gifts were clearly given with her in mind. "It's just... men are boring to shop for."

"Wow. Guess I'm not expecting any gifts for my birthday, then."

"No, no, you'll get gifts. And if you happen to feel tempted to just give them right back to your wife..." Rose shrugged, grinning.

Sebastian muttered under his breath, although he couldn't get the smile to quite leave his face either. "Come on, next present," he finally said, reaching across the floor to drag a large, rectangular object. He traced the simple brown wrapping paper until his fingers found the tape. With a quick swipe, he took the tape off, before carefully unfolding the paper.

"Shit, Rose, it's beautiful," he murmured, taking in the canvas before him.

But Rose couldn't breathe.

She would recognize those bush-strokes in her sleep. The way the dark red paint swirled under the thin white of the veil, the way a hundred different shades of green dotted her painted eyes, the way the brown flecks of paint captured every freckle on her face—she knew. How could she not?

The painting called to her, and, pulled by its siren song, she reached out, her fingers trembling as she picked it up. Her heart was thrumming so hard against her chest, she was sure it was audible. But it didn't matter. Nothing did. Not when she had his painting in her hands.

It was a simple painting, capturing Rose in her wedding dress, the background a blur of muted colours. But there was something about the twinkle in her eyes, and the sad, almost melancholic turn of her lips. Her hair was shorter in the portrait, barely grazing her shoulders. And, of course, there was the pendant. Rose's hand lifted up of its own accord, her fingers grazing the empty spot on her neck where the pendant once used to lie. The beautiful gold and white stone piece, that sat between the collarbones of the girl in the painting. The necklace that he had given her, all those years ago.

The necklace that had been lost forever, like so many other things, in the fire.

"We should hang it up."

Sebastian's voice sounded so far away, it took Rose a few seconds to understand what her was saying. She looked up, blinking a few times, trying to come back to the house, to the now.

"Yeah," she nodded, her insides feeling hollow as she kept the painting back down. "We should hang it up."

She tried to enjoy opening the rest of the presents, but she wasn't quite there—not when he filled her mind, her every thought.

In spite of their agreed upon arrangement, Rose went to bed alone that night, reveling in the dreams of the blue eyed boy who haunted her.