Stretched out on his bed, Lazarus was staring up at the ceiling; he wasn't sure whether to be relieved by what Annabelle had told him or even more scared. Though Annabelle hadn't told anyone, and seemed to be over the shock, she was convinced that it would not leave him, or fade over time. He had an attraction to men, and he was stuck with it.
Though women were not unattractive either. He had hoped that it might mean he could still ignore the part of him that craved a man's touch, or maybe even be cured of it, despite what his sister had told him.
"What happened to your sweetheart, then, when he realised he was... wrong?" he had asked tentatively, not pushing his sister's arms from around his shoulders as he would have normally.
"He fell in love with the black smith's son and they ran away together," she replied with a small shrug.
"And after that?" Even Annabelle hadn't been able to give him an answer for that one.
"I- I don't know," she admitted after a moment, her small smile falling as Lazarus had sighed and slumped further into his chair.
Annabelle walked into the room a few moments later, moving over to him to kiss him good night. She perched on the edge of the bed beside him.
"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned as his gaze didn't move from the ceiling.
"I'm wrong, Anna, how can I be alright?" he asked quietly, making sure his voice was low so that he didn't wake their mother over at the other side of the room.
"You'll figure it out," she promised, "just be quiet next time, hmm?" she kissed his forehead gently, brushing a few strands of his light hair out of his face. He was quiet a moment, working over her words in his mind.
"Next time...?" he asked slowly, incredulous.
"Yes, next time," she repeated with a slight nod, rising again.
"There won't be a next time," he hissed irritably as she moved over to her bed. She smiled into the darkness, saying nothing more about it. Lazarus huffed and rolled onto his side so he was facing away from her, closing his eyes.