[ WP ] Write a story of revenge between two men during the early Victorian era with a twist .

Newell watched with interest as the rat before him began to cringe. It was the fourth one he'd poisoned this month alone, and it seemed that this one would meet its end as well. He felt a hint of sympathy for the poor thing as it lay there, twitching; it could have been him taking those shuddering last breaths. 
 
 With a heavy sigh, he draped a cloth over the rat's cage. His morbid curiosity had left him suddenly, and in its place he felt a faint sort of nausea. Aaron Powlett, he knew, would not stop the attempts on his life unless things changed. And while Newell had a fine nose, he considered an eventual failure on his part inevitable; detecting poison in tea by its scent alone was no accurate science, and he was loathe to test each sip and bite on one of his laboratory rats. 
 
 If he had any interest in regaining his living standards, he had no choice but to talk to Powlett. The conversation would definitely be a disastrous mess of unease and lacking direction, but with luck, Powlett would agree to stop. He shrugged on his coat with determination. 
 
 On the way out, he found a bouquet of flowers in the hall, bearing a blank card. Newell did not even consider that they might be non-poisonous, and jotted down a quick warning on the card - he did n't fancy his maid being killed by them. With a promise to himself to burn the bouquet at his return, he made his way towards the Powlett residence. 
 
 It was not a long walk, not long enough to develop regrets anyway. After a knock and a short wait, he was admitted by the valet who looked at him with wide eyes. As they waited in the lounge for the man of the house, the valet gave a quiet cough. 
 
 `` I was not expecting to see you again, Mr. Roan,'' he said. 
 
 Newell did n't mind the breach of etiquette and responded in a tone belying his nervousness: 
 
 `` I had not planned on it either, but circumstances- ” He stopped speaking the moment ‘ circumstances ’ entered the room. Aaron Powlett, dressed in a smart suit, had halted in his way just shortly after stepping through the door frame. He was obviously investing a lot of care into a neutral expression, but the strained muscles of his jaw as well as his rigid posture made his fear quite clear, at least to those who knew him as well as Newell. 
 
 “ Leave us, ” he told the Valet, for all the world looking like he wanted to accompany him. The servant hurried off and a heavy silence settled. 
 
 Aaron opened his mouth as if to speak, but ended up biting his lower lip instead. His gaze kept flickering towards the door. This was not the behavior Newell had hoped for, but it was the one he ’ d expected. He saw himself forced to be the first to talk. 
 
 “ You ’ ve been trying to murder me, ” he said, attempting a casual tone. 
 
 Silence. 
 
 “ Let me be frank. I ’ m tired of fearing for my life. I came here with the intent to resolve the situation, once and for all. ” 
 
 Silence. 
 
 “ Aaron. ” 
 
 At that, the man looked up, for the first time meeting Newell ’ s eyes. He had begun to tremble. 
 “ Newell, ” he whispered, taking a clumsy step forward. “ I didn ’ t mean to hurt you, I just- ” 
 
 “ Tried to avoid me by having me killed, ” Newell interrupted. “ I know. Now... I was… am not averse to your affections. I ask you to accept them as well, as is only fair. Your denial has hurt me physically, and in other ways. I do not deserve to be punished for your emotions. ” 
 
 For a moment, Aaron looked like he would understand. His brow was wrinkled in confusion, and he was muttering to himself quietly as if deeply in thought. 
 
 Then Newell took a step towards him, and all turned around. 
 
 “ You, ” Aaron suddenly snarled, crowding against him, pushing him back, back against the wall. “ You only have yourself to blame. Had you not bewitched me, I ’ d never have seen fit to send for your death. But you, you have ruined me! ” 
 
 They were breathing hard, and only inches apart. Newell closed his eyes in anticipation of a blow. 
 
 What followed instead was the gentle weight of Aaron crumbling against him. Newell felt arms encircle his neck instead of the choking hands he had expected and the wetness of tears met his cheek. It was utterly surreal, and Newell did not respond, simply let Aaron sob against him in the most undignified way. 
 
 The man was muttering something. It was muffled by fabric and tears, but it sounded important; Aaron appeared to be repeating it over and over again. After some time, Newell carefully pried his former friend ’ s hands off of him. He didn ’ t let them go when pushing Aaron away, and Aaron made no move to resist his grasp. Instead, he finally stopped muttering and looked at Newell with a gaze of some clarity, if bright with tears. 
 
 “ I knew I had lost to your curse, ” he said softly. “ I knew there was no going back, so I attempted to avenge myself. But the devil was always going to win, and you did. Your curse has wrecked me. I surrender. ” 
 
 Newell felt nauseated. He dropped Aaron ’ s hands. 
 
 “ And yet, ” he choked, “ And yet it seems that these mere words have defeated me. ” 
 
 He took a step back and swallowed heavily. 
 
 “ If you consider me a devil, consider yourself freed of me. Please, refrain from any future attempts at revenge. I imagine they would not manage to surpass the blow you have dealt me in this moment. ” 
 
 Aaron didn ’ t say a word, but his eyes were closed as if he was in pain. 
 
 “ I shall take my leave now, ” Newell said. He exited quietly and never returned. 
 
 
 
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 AN: I started writing this earlier in the day and was surprised to see the same `` twist'' in another story before I could post. I can only hope that my fill was different enough to seem original.
