It's too damn cold out.
He shuffles through his sock drawer, throwing half of its contents onto their old plaid bedspread. Among argyles, stripes, and odd mismatches, he sighs with relief as he claims his prize – a thick blue woolen pair.
Sliding them over the cotton ones he is currently wearing, he mutters a curse under his breath at his stiff joints. Every year it gets a little harder to pull them on, his flexibility slowly faltering despite his physically active job.
But he must put them on. He must shove his feet into his slightly tight boots and bundle his scarf and coat and stocking cap in the same ridiculous getup he does every year.
It's a special night, after all.
0o0o0o0
It's far too late to be going out.
Yawning, she drains the coffee pot into her mug, dousing it with more sugar and cream than could ever be appropriate before drinking it down. It leaves her with a warmth in her belly, an excited jolt through her veins. Whether it is from the caffeine or sweetener, she doesn't care – she no longer feels like falling asleep in her favorite chair.
It seems like a nice night to sleep early, but she can't tonight. She must stay awake.
Finishing off her mug, she hurries to the bathroom to brush her teeth. On a night like tonight, she will be damned if coffee breath keeps his lips away from hers. A kiss is practically guaranteed.
It's a special night, after all.
0o0o0o0
Mittened hands join together as the couple begins their trudge up Mother's Hill, the crunching snow beneath their boots providing music for their travels. The moon is bright tonight, leaving more than enough adequate lighting for their journey together as it reflects off of the snow.
"She always loved to look at the moon," he says.
His wife looks up at him. The moonlight brightens his face and suddenly she forgets about the paunch he has developed in recent years, the silver creeping along his hairline. He has the moon in his eyes and it reflects hope for the future. He is just as gorgeous as the day he first asked her to be his.
"I bet she still does." She has to, after all. She stops herself from saying more, as she has a tendency to ramble when she is lonely and nervous. Tonight, however, it doesn't seem appropriate, as she is neither. She's not keen on preoccupying herself with unnecessary conversation this evening.
Every year, the journey gets a little harder. Stiff, swollen joints, frozen toes, biting cold - neither of them complains, though. There is nowhere else either of them would rather be.
A bit of snow blows off of the branches and dusts them. He watches with amazement as the snowflakes adorn her hair like glitter and she is young again, spinning with him in the kitchen and singing with joy as she carefully places a hand on the small swell on her abdomen. The world is beautiful and she is precious.
There's so much in store for them and their future is so bright it's blinding.
Huffs and pants join the squeaking of the snow under their feet. Every year the journey takes a little longer, but it is never any less special. Numb fingers and toes, chilly noses, sore backs and burning legs…
He is glad he was able to find his socks – he can almost feel his feet as they trudge along.
She is grateful she drank the coffee – she has a bit more of a spring in her step and the climb doesn't feel so grueling.
They reach the summit, their labored panting in synch. They take a minute to catch their breaths, looking at the display before them.
Blues, yellows, and greens twinkle and dance along the moonlit horizon. If they focus closely enough, they can almost see her small figure dancing and hear her giggling under the moonlight.
"Aurora borealis," she whispers.
His arms are around her as she leans into him, staring at the sky.
She can't help herself. "Do you think she's watching, too?"
He gives her a sad smile. He knows that there is only one correct answer, even if it is false. "Of course she is."
She breaks form and frowns. "Do you think she can even see it with all those city lights?"
He pulls her closer. "She's somewhere special, just like us, watching it, too."
Tonight, they both believe. Tears blind their vision, but they believe.
"I wonder… if Aja knows the view is better here," he whispers.
They bury their faces into one another's shoulders, heavy breathing among their sniffling and coughing.
They are each other's comfort.
They always have been, even when they have been each other's misery.
Flared tempers and accusations, blame shuffled around with none to claim it.
Failure.
Yelling and quarreling, shattered plates and torn hearts… tearless sobbing and cries of agony as they hold each other in the wee hours of the morning, begging for the pain to cease, for their hearts to stop breaking…
Pleading and bargaining. Hang up calls and dial tones. Cold, uneaten suppers. Ruined birthdays. A larger gap between the sleeping couple. Touches becoming less tender. Hands shoved into pockets as they walk side by side, a few steps' space dividing them.
Tonight, they cling to each other, for tonight they have each other for support, along with the northern lights.
His lips are on hers and they console each other in silence, the aurora borealis reflected in their teary gaze.
0o0o0o0
Author's Note: So, I was planning on writing a happy, heartwarming and pensive holiday story and… y'all get this. Sorry. I was feeling a lot of things and this just felt right, so I went with it.
I am planning to add the character tags at a later time to leave a little mystery at the beginning of the story.
I hope your holidays are full of happy times with the people you care about!