(Unedited. Play song above as you read)
Farrah couldn't differentiate the between the pounding of her heart and the pounding of her feet on the floor as she raced across the suite into Richard's room. It was dark, but she could still make out his figure sitting on the bed, facing the glass sliding door that led to the balcony. It was then she noticed the large crack on the door. Her eyes widened, and she frantically searched for the light switches.
The pounding in her heart intensified in the quiet surrounding her, as she watched Richard's unmoving body as light flooded into the room. He sat hunched, with his elbows on his knees, facing the floor, as his fingers gripped tightly on his dark orange hair. She wanted to say something, but she was anxious, she didn't know how he would react to her. But she knew she had to try.
She walked towards him and the sound of glass crunching under her boots startled her. Carefully watching her step, she saw shards of crystal littering the floor. The gleamed and twinkled on the floor, like wingless fireflies. Fortifying herself, Farrah turned around and headed to the Butler's station. Quickly finding a dustpan, she headed back into Richard' room and slowly started sweeping bit of crystal of the floor. As she did this, Richard stood statue still on the bed, but his lifeless eyes followed her every movement.
Silently, she disposed of the broken shards of crystal and returned the dustpan from where it belonged. Entering the room again, she walked up to Richard and faced him standing on her knees. She lifted her hand to touch him when his voice cut through the silence.
"Are you done now?" Richard's voice cold, stilling Farrah's movements. "Have you fixed up the room? And now you're going to fix me up?"
The coldness of his voice and the harshness of his words created an ache in Farrah's chest. "Why are you saying that, Richard?" she whispered.
"Because I saw that look on your face. The realisation you had in the club; that I am nothing but broken," he said stoically.
"I...I...no...I...," Farrah swallowed, I was jealous, I was hurt, I felt betrayed. But this was not the right time to talk about these things. She cleared her throat, and tried again softly; "Richard, tell me what's wrong. Please."
"What is there to tell you Farrah, I was feeling unhappy, so I threw the nearest thing that I could find. Exactly the type of behavior you would expect out of a shallow, superficial bastard, isn't it?" There was no feeling to anything he said and the fact that he used her words from months before, Farrah was terrified.
Gently, she tried to cup his cheeks with trembling hands willing him to look at her. "Are you checking to see if I did any drugs?" His statement stilling her movements again. "I didn't. It was offered to me, but I didn't take it. A lot was offered to me, but I didn't take it," He said as he raised his face to lock gazes with Farrah.
For the first time in a while Farrah wished she remembered what the hell it was in that article she wrote as a filler for the BBCS website. It was something to do with identifying physical traits of someone on drugs. Her mind was completely blank, but as she looked into his dull, tired, lifeless eyes; she decided to believe him. She believed him when he said he refused the drugs. But her heart still ached as the image flashed before her eyes; Richard and those two women. Granted, it was pretty tame, but it still tore at her inside. Farrah swallowed, her emotions a mess of a whirlpool.
"Farrah, I need you to leave," Richard said, evenly.
Farrah's shoulders slumped, and her hands dangled by her sides. "This, is the second time you've called me by my name. Y-yo-you..you..n-never call me by my n-name in private...," she stuttered. "Richard, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong?" she almost begged.
"I need you to leave. Leave, before I say or do something that I shouldn't," came his mechanical answer.
"Let me help you," she said, her voice breaking.
"Leave."
"Richard...please," she tried again.
"Leave, Farrah."
She slowly stood up as she blinked back her tears. As she walked towards the door she remembered.
Richard having a panic attack when she talked about his mother. Ben telling her not to leave him alone. Ben telling her that it's hard for Richard to be in Paris, at the chateau. Richard not looking at the chandelier. The urgency he had to leave the room, the chateau even. The discrepancy of the maid when asked about who found the princess that day. Richard as a teenager, constantly hitting the headlines with rumours of affairs, drunken nights out and drugs. Phillip mentioning that Richard never talks about their mother. Allan biting her head off when she tried to clarify who was the first person who found the princess dead. The sealed documents.
Her heart was once again pounding in her ears. Farrah's whole body was vibrating with tension. She walked back towards Richard and settled on the ground in front of him again. Looking at him with tear filled eyes.
"Baby, look at me," she whispered. "Richard, look at me, baby," she said again, a little bit louder.
His eyes blank as he meet her gaze. "Leave, Farrah."
"You...you found her, didn't you?" She said, her voice catching.
His eyes were red rimmed with tears, but he said nothing.
"You found your mum, didn't you? You were the first one there, weren't you?" it was as if a dam had broken in her and Farrah stood up, crushing him to her as she sobbed. She hugged him to her chest and chanted the words 'I'm sorry' like a spell, that would erase that would erase the nightmare Richard had lived through. But the spell failed, and he remained unmoving.
She ran her hands through his cotton-like curls and angled his face towards her, so that he was looking up to her. She saw the tear trek running down his cheeks and she caressed his stubble covered jaw.
"Stop, stop forcing yourself to feel nothing, baby. Cry. It's only human, you don't have to be strong all the time, baby," Farrah sobbed through her words. "It's okay to cry. Baby, there is no shame in crying," she told him as all the love she felt for him were reflected in her gentle caresses.
The rigidity left his body, as the tears leaked out of his eyes. On its own accord, his hands moved to hold her by the waist squeezing her to him. And after years, of being told; ordered even, not to â Richard cried. He wept for the loss of his mother. He sobbed for the scared little boy that found her. He wailed for that helpless little boy, who was too late to save his mother. He clawed at Farrah like she was the only thing that was keeping him afloat in this riptide of grief.
Gently Farrah pushed him back, to lay on the bed. Richard curled towards Farrah pulling her as close as possible as he buried his face in her neck, his body wrecked with sobs. Farrah cried with him, she cried for him. She cried for the scared little boy she remembered then; she cried for the tortured man in her arms now.
Richard's tears seeped through her t-shirt and scorched her skin. That night was a branding of sorts; and there was nothing she wanted to do to stop it.
***
So this chapter, so far is my fav chapter in all its unedited glory. I know there are a lot of cliches: the phrases, the situations; but a man who cries...my kryptonite. Nothing gets to me more than a man who is brave enough to work through his emotions even if it entails crying.
Also, that Shawn Mendes song - perfection. For this chapter and probably the next (although I haven't decided yet).
Also side note which i feel is pretty important for everyone to note - I haven't forgotten that Farrah is a practising Muslim. But also, do not forget that although Muslim, she is modern and liberal. And I am just going to leave it at that.
I might actually change my updating day to Sun. Currently it is Friday but with my new schedule, I don't actually see myself getting the time to write except on weekends. Or you know, I'll just update whenever I feel like it. Schedule be damned! LOL
So guys, please show this starved for affection writer some love by doing one if not all three of the following: Share, Vote, and Comment!!