He paced back and forth in his room. Gnawed on lips brushed against themselves roughly and he felt his palms dampen as he looked at the clock located in the living room.
It was nearly eve.
His three older brothers and mother had gone out, leaving him alone back in the manor. Nathaniel rubbed his weary eyes and sat down on the couch, the seventeen-year-old male trying not to think of his looming anxiety that would come when she visited him on that day.
Ambrosine Gregory.
He had met Ambrosine years ago when her family had moved in a few houses away. Nathaniel, being the most sheltered of the four siblings, became curious and begged his older brother to sneak him out. With that, the fourteen-year-old boy caught a sight of long hair swishing as a female stepped into the house, her features blank and eyes blue as the sea.
He found himself speechless.
Days later, Ambrosine had knocked on their door and their mother answered. He listened from the stairs, hearing an alluringly sweet voice which rang throughout the whole manor. Nathaniel peeked downstairs; he saw his mother with a smile stuck on her face as Ambrosine offered gifts.
Which he found odd, because it was supposed to be the other way around. But nevertheless, he listened on and ended up nearly tripping down the stairs if not for his eldest brother.
And that was when Ambrosine saw him for the first time.
A knock came, sending him out of his thoughts.
Nathaniel stumbled to the door and opened it, seeing the blue-eyed female there with her blue eyes worried. Rain fell harshly from the skies. "You should be resting," she scolded him. Nathaniel couldn't help but smile. Between the unusually stern look on her eyes and the way the blue dress hugged her body, he couldn't decide which he liked more.
"Sorry," he found himself mumbling. Ambrosine rolled her eyes and pushed the boy gently, closing the door and immediately pulling him upstairs. Nathaniel blushed red and Ambrosine brought him to his room, watching with a smirk as the boy followed her instructions and crawled back into bed, his face a feverish flush.
As Ambrosine left the room to get him tea, Nathaniel sunk into bed and sighed.
Ambrosine was a delightful twenty. She had just turned so two weeks after Nathaniel reached his being seventeen. Being with her was...exhilarating.
But it also had its own moments.
Nathaniel was inches taller, but when she spoke, he felt like a child again. She was just so intelligent, so wise and cautious that she felt more like a sister than a lover. And he hated it.
The boy glumly turned and faced the wall, heart twinging just a bit. If only Ambrosine was younger than he was. Or maybe a year older. Then the differences wouldn't be so great. When he had fallen in love with her, he knew that it would be...challenging. He knew that it wouldn't be like any typical relationship where they could hold hands and walk around.
He was with a woman, and that was enough to be judged for.
But most of all, Nathaniel just wanted to be the one to protect her for once. When he would see her in tears, she would brush him off and tell him that he shouldn't be wasting his time on her 'adult problems'. When he tried to help, she would tell him that she could handle it just fine, being older and more experienced. And he didn't like it at all.
But he loved Ambrosine, so he tried to follow what she wanted.
"Nat," she sang. Nathaniel merely gave a small grunt in reply. He could almost feel her smile leave the room. She had lowered the silver tray on his table and walked to him, so close that he could feel her breath tickle his ear. "I have your tea, Nat. Are you feeling better?" she placed a hand on his forehead (despite him looking away from her) and immediately took it away at the clammy feeling, tsking to herself at his condition.
"You can go," he mumbled.
"What?"
"You can go." he pushed himself to a sitting position and avoided looking at her, "Thank you for coming. I - I can take care of myself."
"Nat, don't be stupid," Ambrosine began sternly, but he shook his head. "Nat..."
"Just go," he said. Quietly. Ambrosine attempted to protest but the more Nathaniel shook his head and told her to leave (despite his own hesitance and actually not wanting her to leave), the clearer it got to her.
And she understood.
"Amour..." Ambroise forced Nathaniel to look at her, her own chest tightening at the look in his eyes. It was a terrified, unsure look. And it bothered her greatly. "For now, let me take care of you. S'il vous plaît?"
He attempted to resist.
But the fond look in her eyes made him falter, and he eventually gave in.
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