Only friends? But I love you...

Brooklyn lay, sprawled on the large, soft mattress of her bed.

She lay on top of the soft, fresh, clean blankets which had been changed with the cold season.

She kept her black hair loose, untied and wavy around her head.

Between her fingers the young woman held the long dark red ribbon that had once belonged to Gilbert, her older brother.

That ribbon was hers now, she always kept it with her, she used it to tie her hair.

That object, it still retained a bit of the smell of her brother and exactly one year after his death it was pleasant to still be able to smell it.

Francis, for a year, almost exactly, had lost his younger half-brother, at the hands of Isabelle but unfortunately he didn't have much of him left, like everything the young Thomas carried with him was buried in his grave.

They had so much in common, she and Francis, who knows if those characteristics could have turned into love?

-Last night was strange enough...- commented a voice from the end of her bed, distracting Brooke from any thought.

She knew that voice, it was Francis.

The young man was sitting, also on her bed, but adjacent to her feet.

He had his back resting against the lower back of precious wood, his brown and wavy hair down, almost touching his chin and his pale and freckled face illuminated by the rays of light.

They were always together, they always were before and after Dickon's participation in the group and they always would be, together and close, Brooke felt it in her heart.

-Since I arrived in the castle, nothing has seemed particularly normal to me...- commented the young woman in response, letting both her hands fall on her chest, still holding the precious ribbon.

She turned her face, turned it until she could see to her right, until she too let the young Earl enter her sphere of vision.

Dickon, unlike the two, sat neatly on a soft padded chair made of fine felt.

He seemed distracted, he observed the emptiness around him, she perceived the young man was sad but he did not try to let memories and regrets of the past prevail over him.

His red hair was somehow ruffled on his head and his wet eyes, brown and dark as wood.

Dickon smiled, kept following what his friends said and most likely agreed with Brooklyn, that nothing had actually gone to their advantage at the time.

-We live in a strange world, full of mysteries... -the Earl commented in response to the argument of the two companions -and it is precisely for this reason that someone's task is to solve them...-.

Inside himself Dickon kept thinking if maybe one of the two friends remembered what had happened from the previous evening or if the next morning, for the alcohol and fatigue, they had removed everything.

-Anyone remember what happened in the tavern yesterday?-.

The pale cheeks of Francis soon took on an innate blush, it was clear he remembered what he had done, but he was embarrassed, while it seemed that Brooke, no matter how hard she tried, could not remember anything about the past night.

-I don't really know how it could have happened...- Francis began to speak soon making a further blush fall on his face -I only remember meeting a girl and going to bed with her...-.

Brooke seemed particularly interested by that subject that immediately a blush began to take hold of her cheeks as well.

She smiled mischievously and soon placed her head between the young man's legs and looked him closer in his eyes.

It had been a long time since they knew each other that the two were now so close and for which there was no reason for shame in keeping their bodies close to each other.

-Do you by chance remember who that girl was?- Brooke asked immediately letting the other know who she really was.

Francis blushed so much and it seemed that he was going to cry at any moment.

-You were...I can't believe I slept with you... .- the Marquis covered his embarrassed and reddened face with his hands.

Brooke quickly moved away from him until she could move freely again.

She raised her gaze to the sky, she had not done it deliberately but on the one hand she did not regret it, on the other hand she felt a strong attraction for him which did not regret having lost her virginity to him.

The young woman fiddled with her finger her wavy black hair, moving both her legs, alcohol worked miracles at times, it had helped them to let go.

-I have to admit it was not bad at all- Brooke commented wanting to purposely make the other aware of her true emotions -you were good Francis, good for your first time with a woman-.

Her friend was exploding inside himself.

How could Brooklyn confess all this in front of the young man that Francis had a crush on.

If seriously he had slept with her it was because of alcohol and beer but nothing more and moreover the masculine aspect of hers had helped him.

The fact is that a mixture of conflicting emotions mixed inside Francis's mind.

What could Dickon have thought of him right now? Could he have continued to impress him or was it just an illusion?

Francis felt the strong grip of a cold hand squeeze his wrist.

-Could I talk to you for a moment?- Dickon asked, trying to pull his friend out of bed and take him with him, in private, to a more hidden place and where there was less chance that someone could hear them.

They looked at each other for a long time, they were both pale, frightened by what one had to say to the other.

Francis closed his eyes, exhaled the air that he was holding in his lungs, he had to stay calm, everything would have gone correctly if he hadn't immediately started to lose control.

-The other night, inside the tavern...- Dickon began to speak slowly and cautiously -I don't know if honestly or in the throes of alcohol, you confessed to me, what you really feel towards me...-.

Damn! That topic, generally, was something that Francis didn't want to get to talk about.

-I thought about this last night, I couldn't get it out of my head, so please tell me, honestly, how things really are...- his friend's cold hands touched his again, making him blush.

They were cold, soft, he liked the contact with them, it made him feel safe.

Francis looked away with his brown eyes, looking for something else, on which to focus, to get out of that unexpected situation.

He would not be able to speak, except stammering as he always did in the presence of people he liked.

-I mean, I could never love you, right? In the sense, I could never love a person as stupid as you ... but I love...I mean hate... well, pretend this conversation never happened, I beg you...-

Francis felt so stupid at that moment.

How he could have said such things to Dickon, to his best friend and above all how it was possible that in his presence he could not even formulate a few sentences.

How come she could never truly express his feelings to him.

Dickon hugged him tightly, caressed his face, kissed him passionately on the lips.

On his shoulders, Francis felt the warmth, his breath on his face, the closeness of their bodies, on his lips he felt the humidity of the other's saliva.

He felt the other was smiling while he was kissing him.

-So, I'm glad, all this has cleared up between us...partner- the tawny young man admitted as his pale and freckled face turned red, the same colour as his hair -because there is nothing more sincere than a statement made with the heart-.

Francis looked away, a part of the room, away from his cheerful and smiling face, how could that young man be so naive as not to understand his feelings first?