Disclaimer: I disclaim all rights and responsibilities to these characters. I only wish I owned them.
Pairing: Abbie/Ichabod
Genre: Angst/Romance
Word Count: 234
Rating: PG
Author's note: in my universe, ichabod moves into Abbies spare room & this is how it happens.
white trees
Every wall in Abbie's apartment is painted: olive, taupe, wine, burnt orange, there's a billion different shades on the walls.
Every time anyone comes over, which isn't very often, they always comment how nice it is, how put together it all seems.
When Ichabod steps across the threshold, the day he moves into her spare room, her home, her life— they're entwined, she remembers— she hopes he'll say the same. She prays he won't notice that there's no white because it sickens her, that it gives her nightmares, that she still gets nauseous when she's been in the woods too long…
She hopes that his ancient blue eyes won't see through her like they've already proven they can.
'Not tonight,' she thinks.
They both saw what was in that mirror. And Abbie— the young Abbie, the little girl who'd woken up in the middle of the street with a sister who'd seen the same impossible terrifying thing she had— has just learned that her terror all these years has been just as warranted as she'd somehow always known it'd been.
"Hm," Ichabod hums, body still but eyes roaming slowly. There is something in his gaze when he looks back at her. Abbie feels her fingers twitch.
He hesitates.
"It's lovely," Ichabod compliments, placing his dirty bible on her side table and moving further inside.
Abbie exhales.
"Thanks," she says, shutting the red front door.