She chose her next words with care. "I really want to know you. Why are you the way you are? Why did you kill them years ago, your parents? What did they do to you?"
His expression hardened like steel, and he let go of her wrist and removed his hand from her hair. He turned his back to her as he replied,
"Because they deserved it. They loved me too much. I couldn’t handle it. I told you that, didn’t I? I don’t like the way they loved or cared. It’s boring... and utterly overwhelming, to the point it became irritating. I killed them for that." His voice was cool, untouched by any emotion.
"How did they love you? Describe it to me," she pressed gently, using a soft, coaxing tone. No matter what, one could not kill someone who cared about them and have no remorse for it. She had a feeling they had done something to earn his resentment that had led to their death.
"I don’t have words for it. It’s a kind of love I haven’t seen anyone else show... but they called it love, and I believe it to be that. I am the way I am because they loved me, Isa. Don’t get too curious about something that’s long gone and unimportant. Let your curiosity about my past go, it won’t serve you in any way."
"I want to help you. That’s why I’m asking. I let you change me, because of you, I’ve become more confident than I ever was. You make me realize things I never once considered before. I want to understand you, so I don’t keep misunderstanding again."
She wanted to add that his past was clearly still holding him back, specially after he went back to that dungeon the other day, but she realized it wouldn’t be wise to say that now.
"Can’t you let me see your past? Let me in, I want to know you deeply, and understand you," she said, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. She felt his muscles twitch under her touch.
"Knowing my past will only make you hate me. And knowing it won’t make you understand me the way you think it will, you’ll get stained by it. Don’t let it taint you. I want you just the way you are now... my little adorable wife. Some things are better off kept to oneself and locked away."
He reached out with his other hand and gently took the hand she’d placed on his arm. Then he turned toward her, his gaze lowered onto her hand in his.
"Promise me that you will never hate me someday?" he asked, not meeting her eyes, only gripping her hand tighter. "There are things that, even if I don’t tell you, they’ll come to you one day. And once they do, I don’t want to see loathing in your eyes."
Belle had no idea what he meant, or why she would ever hate him, when she was only beginning to love him more and more with each passing moment.
"I will never hate you," she said, making the promise without a hint of hesitation.
His head slowly lifted to look at her. The paleness of his face made his lips appear deep red, almost like he had applied lip color. The corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile.
"Good. Because if that day comes and you show me hate, I will still keep you, even if you insist on leaving. But I will take your word for it, wife. You will not hate me. I thought I could take any emotion from you, as long as you remained in my life, but I’ve realized, just recently, that I can’t take your hate. Anger, yes... but not hate. No hate."
He spoke the words as if muttering them more to himself than to her.
He would truly go mad if she ever looked at him with hatred, if her eyes ever mirrored the nightmares she might remember someday.
"No hate," he added softly as he touched her cheek. "Just like I couldn’t take their love, I can’t take your hate."
His hand slipped away from her face, and before Belle could reach out to catch it, he had slipped away and was gone from her front in the blink of an eye.
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