She shoved the key in the door hastily, missing the fit with numb shaky hands, fingers lacking fluid movement under thick woolen gloves. The tips of her toes froze deep into the thick white snow, crushing into more and more dense ice rather then reaching that concrete once so familiar to her. It was very early, leaving the sky rayless, dark and somewhat gloomy. However, with appreciative eyes it may have been deemed stunning in contrast to the thick white powder still shooting down the sky like small angry bullets.
Jingle. Jingle.
The glass door opened swiftly into the bakery. It was that moment she nestled quickly into the heated room to escape the winter "wonderland" of a ruthless blizzard. Once the door had shut, she heaved a sigh as her body shivered from heat once again being retrieved back into her body at a fast pace.
Kicking off her boots, down to woolen socks with gingerbread men, she fumbled with her buttons, dropping her thick winter coat to the ground along with her own body collapsing near the door. She slid down the glass, her back creating small squeaks of friction until she had been entirely sitting on the ground.
She opened her eyes and glanced around. The bakery was almost empty, the counter tops almost a pain to look at from the lack of glistening colorful pastries. She shut the blinds wanting no one to see her at work. Her bones were tired and as she stretched achingly within moonlight peering in through the blinds, lines of pale blue fell across the wood panels, smooth tables and booth chairs.
Click.
Somber piano music now mixed in the scene with the bakery room. She tied her apron, flipping her long chestnut brown hair from beneath the tie which she fastened into a round bun.
She got to work, cold hands with pink numb fingertips worked into the dough, sprinkled with light amounts of flour. The song had changed to something even more soft. She didn't bother putting the lights on. She felt the light from outside had been enough to roll the dough out. It had been calming, this scene. Despite her overworked muscles, to be within this bakery was an alluring thought. It kept her away from many things.
All but one.
Knock. Knock.
The door had caught her attention and she had lost her train of thought. Snapped into her senses, she walked away from the rolling pin, stepping cautiously to the door. She grasped the handle...Turned it.
Opened it in a flash.
She stood there. A nonchalant expression took over her features as for the sixth time this month nothing had been there. Just cold air greeting bare skin unkindly.
It is true, she had grown paranoid of this. If thought to be a prank, it wasn't likely. What person in their right mind would go that far to frighten someone? Maybe a child, but she couldn't think of one child who'd be walking along the sidewalks at this time. It was five in the morning.
She sat in a booth seat, letting her mind idly wander. The dough on the counter remained untouched a few moments as the sun rose and her remaining happiness had subsided.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Knock. Knock.
Pitch black. A world that doesn't seem likely because it is nothing. It's built with shadows, and not one tree, not one spec of dust could be found in such a frightening world. It was a re-occurring dream of only one illusion. Her hand could not be spotted underneath her own eyes.
And so came the same illusion.
The sound of a rusty door opening echoed within the nothingness. A blurry blinding light, and a shadow of a man bending uncomfortably to close it as if something had been wrong with his leg. He walks towards her. The shadow of himself steps closer, allowing a cease in that small light he came from as he gets on one knee. Her heart pumps and shakes the shadow backround.
His hand, full of might and a strong grip, takes a hold from on top of her palm. It gently lets go, and leaves something delicate in her hand. He then rambles. It isn't English, but it is a language she recognizes. Not familiar enough to know which.
There is a deliberate pause. She waits.
A rewind. A walk backwards, and she can't speak as the sound of a piano is heard, playing one of the most recognizable songs by ear over her own voice. Moonlight sonata...But the keys crash into something more heinous as he's closing the door again, in that same uncomfortable position.
Dark. Nothingness at its worst again.
Knock. Knock.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
He woke up with a sharp gasp as he quickly turned to the nightstand feeling as if he may of slept in too much. He reached over the blonde woman. She gave a unappeased moan, turning dark brown eyes over to the white haired man.
"Thanks Gilbert, " she gave a yawn, not bothering to sit up in the bed as she stretched against the clean hotel sheets, "great morning surprise, really. A arm in my face is just amazing."
He chuckled, finally taking a grab of his phone. What was this girls name again? Hell, it started with an "a" right? No...No, it was Olivia...Was it? Or was that the girl from last week?
"No problem~!" he chirped like his fluffy yellow companion in the cage beside him, "I only live to make people smile. Don't even have to do a thing to accomplish that. Practically just got to stand infront of them-"
"Whatever. Did you at least order breakfast?" she practically snapped while taking a hold of the remote on the carpet. She turned the television on, the screen flashing a trashy reality show, the speakers giving a buzz to zap the audio to life. She pulled on a robe she used the night before from the carpet, covering her naked body as she pulled the white towel like sleeves down her arms. She flipped her hair from beneath the robe, an unsatisfied look tugged at her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth.
He grinned, watching everything with predatory eyes, "Ooh, touchy!"
She ignored the seemingly playful remark as Gilbert sat up trying to find his pants. He scanned the carpet and finally gripped at the loose jeans near the leg of the bed. He was hungry himself, and didn't feel like sticking around with the princess at that moment, "I'll be back Aurora, gotta grab something to eat-"
"Why are you taking your bird with you then?" she pointed at him grabbing onto the cage, giving the pale-faced player narrowing suspicious eyes.
"He'll get lonely without me, isn't that right?" he put his nose against the cage, "Gilly-birrrddyy~!" he babied with puckered lips.
"Just go-"
"Right ahead of you!" he took a jump to the door, fastening on the rest of his clothes with skill from practice.
"Wait, but before you do!" she shouted, all still with an angry expression.
The door slammed as he took his leave.
"My name is Kayla!" she tried screaming loud enough for him to hear, giving a stomp of disapproval.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
AN: Reviews? ;_; Heh, first fic I've done in awhile! Been so busy, but I have time to actually write now. Yaaay~