The next morning Gunter walked down the stairs and right by Chris and Zeven on the couch.
Zeven was curled inwards with his arms wrapped around Chris's rib cage. Gunter assumed that they had probably started down around her waist but Chris had probably fidigited in her sleep. Chris was face down with her arms and legs thrown every which way. There was no doubt in his mind who started this mess.
Leaving the two of them, Gunter continued to the kitchen. It's state hadn't improved from last night when he left the two of them, if anything it looked worse. Grabbing the coffee from where he hid it the previous day, he made himself a cup and began to look over the papers on the table. Filing and sorting to the best of his ability. History, theories, ideas, he tried to logically filter through them. Looking through the mass of information he saw several good ideas, all of them ultimately failing in their longevity. So far the previous kings had only managed to create a decade of peace at most.
Gunter doubted these two would be any different. Even Zeven's solution was flawed. While it did hold more potential for lastingness, that was only providing that the people could learn to accept the new normal. But it didn't solve the problem of ending the deep seeded hatred. If anything it may further infuriate rebels, and cause riots and unrest.
Sitting at the table with his coffee, Gunter took a moment to rest. The world was changing, and it felt as if he had been swept away with the times. Zeven was no longer the small boy he once knew, he had grown up into a man. Gunter sipped his coffee wistfully, if only Zeven could have stayed a child forever. Growing up meant having to make hard decisions and take losses. If he could, Gunter would happily bear that weight for him, but it was no longer in his power to do so.
Even after finishing his coffee, Gunter made no attempt to move from the table. Instead he placed his head in his hands and looked out the tri fold window. Wishing that things could go back to the way they were. But life only moved forward, and no amount of wishing would change that. Picking up a pencil, he began jotting down some ideas of his own.
Zeven's grip on Chris failed as she twisted in her sleep. Her head rested on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took. Gently coming out of sleep, Chris rubbed her eyes before attempting to sink back into the warmth of her bed. Her fingers entwined with a soft and silky textured blanket, as she nuzzled closer to the source of the warmth. Chris opened her eyes and blinked sleepily. Her eyes focused on the back of the sofa and her blood ran cold as the previous night's events came back.
Her cheeks grew red as she looked down at what she assumed to have been her bed. She was very much on top of Zeven, and her hand had very much been in his hair. Luckily Zeven was still sleeping. So Chris carefully pulled herself off of him, trying not to wake him. She paused, holding herself on her hands and knees above him. Hands pressed on either side of his head, she leaned in for a better look at his face. It was not often that his guard was let down enough for her to look as much as she wanted. Her light blonde hair cascaded to the side as she bent in further.
Zeven's face looked much younger. His dark eyelashes softened his face. Everything else was strong, and hard: his nose, his jaw, his cheekbones. Chris had never found herself drawn to anyone, but for the first time, she felt a pull equivalent of the tides to the moon, drawing her to Zeven. He was insensitive, impulsive, crass, but Chris could feel something more, a kinship of sorts.
His brow furrowed in his sleep causing two creases to form. His look changed again, he went from a child to a man in an instant. Deciding he looked better stress free Chris raised her hand and brought her thumb to his forehead. Gingerly touching his face she attempted to soothe his brow.