A Piece of History: First Time For Everything

    He flipped the last couple of pages, and then sighed heavily as he put the book back on the shelf.
    "That one won’t do me any good," Jonas Foster snarled as he stalked away from the bookcase. The cherry-black haired woman glanced up from her ledger and shrugged.
    "You’ve gone through everything I have." She shifted her weight on the stool and refastened a pewter spiderweb clip in her long hair. "What did you expect? Books on demonology don’t come out every two days."
    The death mage grumbled as he slung himself into one of the overstuffed armchairs nearby. Spider winced when his heavy boots thunked down onto her glass-topped coffin table, and her frown darkened.
    "What’s got you in such a bad mood, anyway?"
    Jonas didn’t reply, but sent her a scathing glare as he crossed both arms over his chest. The bookseller matched his scowl and snapped her ledger shut. "Look, Jonas. This isn’t your living room, you know. If someone’s going to sit in my bookstore and glare at me, I’d sure as hell like to know why."
    "I’m in a bad mood, so sue me," he said, averting his eyes.
    "That’s nothing new." She looked at him speculatively, and then walked around the counter, coming to settle herself across from him in another armchair. "But that’s not it. This is something else."
    "Since when did you become so damn perceptive?"
    She smirked, brushing back loose strands of hair. "I always have been. You just never had anything to hide."
    Jonas frowned blackly, his upper lip curling in something distantly related to disgust. "I’m not hiding anything."
    Spider laughed, nodding her head. "Of course not. And that’s why you’re wearing a turtleneck: to not hide that hickey on your throat."
    The death mage’s hand flew up to cover the dark bruise, which only incited more laughter from the curvaceous woman. "See? You’re not hiding anything at all."
    "I hit myself," he snapped.
    "Right… With a pair of lips? I’m sure those teethmarks must have been from some random ‘accident’ you had," she said mockingly.
    "Lay off, alright?" His growing discomfort was immediately apparent, and Spider’s eyebrow rose as he shifted in his chair.
    "Now I’m really curious. You’re acting like some teenager trying to explain to your girlfriend’s dad why she came home without her bra."
    Jonas laughed shortly. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"
    "Call it experience: you’re acting like you did something wrong."
    The death mage’s scowl was chilling, and when his nearly black eyes rested on her, Spider felt something with prickly claws crawl along her spine. "I haven’t done anything wrong." There was a tone in his voice that drew to mind glaciers, Antarctic winds, Siberian winters. Spider’s brows drew together, and it was with effort that she did not rub her bare upper arms.
    "Then what has you so jumpy?"

    The death mage rose, leashed violence in his movements, and paced about on the blood-red rug. His bootheels left deep indentations in the thick nap, and Spider found herself tracking his path before she shook her head and eyed him nervously. "Look, Jonas… I don’t mean to pry, but-"
    "But what? You can’t help yourself?" His voice was harsh as he turned on her, black eyes gleaming. "You never can, can you? Always… You always have to know, don’t you?"
    She looked at him for a long, silent moment, and then her russet eyes darkened a shade. "I don’t think I want to know what you’ve done."
    The death mage’s snarl echoed as his shoulders stiffened, . "Why? What do you think, huh? All of a sudden you don’t want to know? When did this suddenly change? Miss I-Need-To-Pry just developed discretion? Like hell, you conniving little bitch! Come on, why not? Why don’t you want to know now?"
    Spider couldn’t hide the expression, and something in her said Don’t… Her face crumpled, and tears thickened her voice. "Because anything you’d be so ashamed of to hide must be horrible, worse than anything that’s happened."
    Jonas stopped and looked at her. She couldn’t read his expression, but there was something akin to astonishment in his gaze, mingled with…shame? Perhaps it was that which scared her more than his anger, and she found herself cringing back into the chair. Jonas Foster had never shown shame regarding anything he’d done. Rage, grief, confusion, disgust… Yes. Shame? …no. Not shame. The death mage had gone through his life never apologizing for anything, for he never saw himself in the wrong. At the look in his eyes, compassion flooded her. Spider’s voice cracked when she held her hands out to him. "Jonas, please… What’s wrong?"
    His anger flickered, and burnt itself out as he looked at her, and Jonas’s spine sagged. He fell into his chair as if someone had cut the strings holding him upright. He closed his eyes, and Spider remained silent, sensing on some unconscious level the struggle he was fighting.
    "…I don’t know what to do," he whispered, covering his eyes with one callused hand. "I…I’ve always known, but now…" Jonas swallowed, and Spider caught herself, held back from encouraging him along the first heartfelt confession that she… that anyone had ever heard from the death mage. "There’s …a woman. Tamara. We’ve been… Damn it, I don’t know what it is. Fucking. Weeks now." His voice was heavy, cracking as he struggled to voice what was roiling through his mind. "She… wants… I don’t know what the fuck she wants from me, but she’s not getting it." Jonas opened his eyes, and the dark chocolate colour was glazed as he looked at the bookseller. "How do I… God damn it, Spider! How the fuck do I tell her I don’t want her?"
    Spider’s lips compressed as she watched him, and she found her eyes welling in silent sympathy for this unknown woman. "So you’re upset because you found a rebound and she wants more than you’re willing to give?"
    He laughed shortly. "Rebound? Is that what it’s called?"
    "…after you lose someone, it’s natural to try and-"
    "Yeah, I know, I know," he snapped, the irritation gleaming again. "People do it all thefucking time. That doesn’t help, Spider. She…" Jonas stopped and looked at his boots, scowling. Spider had the sudden urge to laugh. It wasn’t cruelty, it was just so damn weird watching this man try to figure out how to apologize to someone. Maybe for the first time in his life.
    "Don’t lie to her," she said quietly. "She might understand the truth. A lie will just make things worse."
    He didn’t say thank you, nor did she expect it. He didn’t pat her shoulder, nor did he acknowledge her in any way. Jonas Foster merely rose to his feet and walked out, slowly, his shoulders hunched beneath a weight they’d never borne. Russet eyes tracked him to the door, and remained gazing long after the ornate lock had clicked.