Look at Me: First Attempt to Reconcile

Please Naga, just kill me. Kill me now. “Are you okay with this?” Lon’qu looks at me, his mouth turned into a small frown. I don’t meet his eyes.


“Mm-hm. Yeah.” Ever since the party, I go out of my way to avoid having to do anything with him. But of course, the Khans insist I teach Lon’qu how to ballroom dance. “Are you?” You’re not supposed to converse with him!


“I’m not sure until we start.” In my periphery, he hangs his head, focusing on the floor.


I sigh. “Okay, well…” I walk towards him slowly, seeing his hands clench into fists. He refrains from moving away. “I hold your hand here…” I instruct, tracing a line on his arm before clasping his fist. With an internal struggle, he relaxes and entwines his fingers in mine.


“L-like...this?” I can practically feel the heat rising to his cheeks.


I ignore the way my heart jumps, saying, “No, like this.” I arrange our hands the correct way. “Then you place your other hand here…” Again, I trace a line to his other hand, overlooking the fact that it’s trembling. I guide it to my waist, feeling it fall limp. “No, firmer.” Lon’qu then grips a little harder, but still too loose. We’ll work on that later.


“Is this...enough?” Lon’qu gulps loudly. I only look at his cheeks--they’re a bright, burning red.


“We’re, uh...we’re too far apart.” I mean like come on, there’s a foot of pace between us. But I can’t handle getting closer. In all honesty, it’s not just him dreading the lesson. Ever since that night, I...I won’t allow getting too close, feeling betrayed and insulted. I’ve been asking myself, Why does it matter? He’s just doing what you’ve always wanted, but I keep coming back to the same answer. Maybe...maybe I don’t want him to. Maybe...I want him to notice me. Maybe...I like him. As always, I shut that part out of my mind.


Lon’qu shuffles like an inch. I shuffle another inch. We both know it’s not enough, but the closer we get, the redder our faces become. When we’re around six inches away, the appropriate distance, we’re blushing like it’s a sauna in here. Strangely, I see that Lon’qu has loosened up considerably, but I’ve tensed.


“Okay, I guess we’re ready to start,” I pronounce.


“But Olivia…” I smother the way my heart starts beating faster, the stupid smile starting to form. Did you really have to say my name? “Aren’t we supposed to look at each other?”


I let out a forced laugh. “Ha, no.”


“But...all the other couples did at the party.”


“Psh yeah...’cause they’re experienced.”


“You didn’t,” he points out. His mouth is too close to my ear, just like that night. Before I can even think of a retort, he adds, “Well, you don’t like it anyways…” Some part of me wants to scream, I like it when it’s you! “So...what now?” The pressure finally gets to me. I let go of Lon’qu and briskly walk to the door. “Olivia, what’s wrong?”


I shake my head vigorously, not turning around. “Y-you’re not ready. You’re still too afraid,” I lie. I’m afraid. I can’t do this. I leave the room as calmly as possible, and once I’m out of sight, I sprint to my room.
~**~
After that disaster, I’d begged Flavia to find someone else, refusing to explain why. Lon’qu keeps trying to corner me, but I make up some excuse to evade him. Finally, he finds me in the laundry room, folding clothes.


“Olivia,” Lon’qu starts urgently, alarming me.


“Gods, Lon’qu!” I say, pressing a hand to my chest.


“I-I’m sorry; you’ve been unavailable often.”


“I’m kinda busy now,” I retort, smoothing the wrinkles out of a damp shirt.


“I’ll be quick.” The dark-haired man lets out a deep breath. “What have I done?”


I pause for a second, my mind racing. Shit. “Nothing. Why?” I continue to fold.


I hear him shifting his weight. “You’re...distant.”


“Are you sure it’s not just you?”


“Well...yes. You’re less friendly now.”


“Maybe I’m just respecting your boundaries.” I see him deflate in the corner of my eye.


“I still feel like I’ve upset you.” You don’t look at me.


“And what if I say yes?” I keep my tone nonchalant. I set the folded shirt aside and start on a gold dress--one of Flavia’s.


“Can I do anything to make it up to you?” He doesn’t even ask why. Is he that desperate to mend things? Without letting me answer, he strides over to a pile of clothes and starts folding one of them.


Stamping out the feeling of joy, I mumble, “You don’t have to help me fold…”


“I want to,” Lon’qu replies, no hesitation. We fold silently, but I can feel that Lon’qu has something on his mind. After several minutes, he begins, “I go to visit my hometown sometimes.” His voice is just barely above a whisper.


I stop and look at him. Thankfully, he’s focused on folding a scarf of his. “What are you talking about?”


“That’s what I do in my free time.”


“Oh, you weren’t born in Ferox?” My curiosity piques.


“No,” he responds, but he seems to hold himself back from saying more.


“Where is your hometown?” I ask tentatively.


“...Chon’sin.” Lon’qu’s mouth is set in a thin line, like he’s recalling something painful.


My eyes widen. Oh. Half of the village was burned down by packs of brigands. “I’m so sorry…”


Lon’qu sniffles a little. “I just wanted you to know.” My heart goes out to him. In a moment of weakness, I place a soothing hand on his arm. Curiously, he doesn’t cringe. He just puts a hand over mine, sighing.


Without saying anything else, we resume folding.