The door to the Diner opened, the little bell above the door ringing cheerily. The clock above it showed five past three. A cold autumn breeze swept in, chilling the air. In the doorway Ruby Lucas stood, unwinding her scarf. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and her eyes sparkled.
"I saw frost, Granny. The snow will be here soon!" She called it gaily and her grandmother muttered something about shovelling and winter tires in return.
"And you're late - again!" Louder than necessary she put down the coffee pot to transfer her hands to her hips.
"I'm sorry - again!" Ruby laughed the words and her grandmother couldn't help her lips twitching in response. Pleased, her granddaughter turned and hung her scarf over the hook inside the door. Her hat and gloves followed before she unzipped the leather jacket and let it follow.
From his seat in the corner, Archie let himself watch her when her back was turned. The long curls spilled out of the hat, tumbling down her slim back. In the fall sunlight the mink brown gleamed, goldentipped. Turning back around, she pushed the sleeves of her jumper higher and pulled a hair tie from her wrist. With a few efficient moves she collected her hair in a tail and snapped it in place in a messy bun. He could only think she had the most beautiful spot where neck met shoulder he had ever seen. Pale, soft and tender. There was little delicate about a woman as strong as Red but that spot was.
Heading behind the counter she tied an apron around her slim hips, the strings easily reaching twice around. Offering her Granny a quick kiss on the cheek she began making fresh coffee.
Her moves were graceful, quick and lithe, everything she did always looking like she was dancing to him. Gracile and efficient, whether she was walking or holding her hand out in greeting, running or making coffee.
When the machine began sputtering she turned back and before he could turn his eyes away she had spotted him and smiled in greeting. Feeling his lips respond, the corners lifting, he quickly looked away. Sometimes when she smiled at him that way he had to look away. Like staring into the sun it was blinding in its radiance and it left an impression in the same way on his retinas after he looked away. The soft, full lips, the way one corner lifted higher than the other, the tiny dimple that deepened when the smile was genuine, all were branded to his mind even after he closed his eyes.
Wincing to himself he waited for the image to fade.
"Archie." She was suddenly next to him, the pot of coffee now in her hand. Behind the warm, rich smell of coffee he could catch her scent. Something cool and fresh today, like summer rain on new leaves.
Forcing his eyes to meet hers, he summoned the smile he hoped looked easy.
"Ruby." His voice was hoarser than normal, pulled from him like it was made of stone and grated out of him. It was the only way he could say her name. If he let himself speak it freely she would hear it wasn't stone but air - light and free like the sunshine he thought of her as.
Her eyes were smiling down at him, the early summer green of a misty June morning. When she was angry they changed to the dewdrop on the bottom of a willow leaf, almost silver and liquid with the emotion. When she laughed it turned to the green of sunshine through the canopy of the crown of a tree. He knew every minute change in those eyes better than his own. As always he lost his words at the wonder of seeing them. Like a stunning vista would take a man's breath and make him wonder how such miracles existed her eyes unmanned him.
"More coffee?" Her voice, clear and sweet, was warmed in the tone reserved for friends. Like her eyes he knew every slight tonal change, every shift in intonation and inflection that signified her mood much like a sailor would know the sea. Even when the surface was calm he could feel the currents underneath.
"Please." He knew that was the last word he would say to her today. Knew that once he had finished this cup of coffee he would have no reason to stay close to her until tomorrow. He would have to go home with only the ghosts of his memories to keep him company.
Leaning forward to pour the hair tie she had pulled in place broke with a snap and her hair tumbled down, falling around her face. The scent of it invaded his senses and the cool, silken locks brushed the back of his hand. Pulling it back as if burnt he rubbed the place it had touched.
"Oh, shoot. That's my last one. I suppose I'll just have to…" She trailed off, straightened and shook her hair back as he entered. Setting the coffeepot down on his table she walked to greet him, as if he were magnetic. Whale smiled, met her in the middle.
Archie stood, blindly dropping some notes on the table. He was early today. Usually Archie could avoid him altogether. Could avoid seeing the man who held what he had wanted more than life itself. The man who was allowed a miracle.
"How are my favourite girls today?" Whale leaned in for a kiss and quickly Archie turned his head, desperately attempting to shield himself from having the jealousy wake in him like a roaring beast. Shield his heart from the stab of ice seeing them together always was. Everything inside him curled up to protect itself, vulnerable and shivering.
Forcing his muscles to obey he walked past, the couple as oblivious to his presence as if he weren't even there. Still, to get past he couldn't avoid seeing them and couldn't miss how Whale put his hand to the curving slope of her stomach.
"We're well. Someone is happy to hear daddy. Can you feel it?" Her hand joined his on her stomach and Archie pulled the door open with more force than necessary, desperate to get outside.
The little bell jingling merrily to celebrate his departure, and the door swung shut.
It was raining.
He realized his umbrella was still inside the Diner but nothing would convince him to go back in so he turned the collar of his tweed jacket up against the wind and descended the steps. Taking the few metres to his practice he let the wind tug at him, watching as it toyed with a few dried leaves. That was much how he felt. She was the breeze that chased the dry, lifeless image of what was left of him through life. Trapped in the half-existence of not being alive, fallen and forgotten but not yet dead and trodden into the ground. The only thing that still stirred him was she. The only reason he was wasting was she.
She was his religion. She was his hell. She was his addiction and his cure. She was his air when he was drowning and she was the sea pulling him down. Thoughts of her were his refuge and the storm that wrecked him. Seeing her was torture and abstaining was agony. Unable to tear himself from her and let go he was caught in suspended animation, hanging over the abyss by a thread.
One day he would be free again. There had to be a spring following the fall, a day when he would live for something other than seeing her. A day when he didn't feel the ravine she opened inside him widening, making it impossible to see the other side. A day when he could once more smile and feel it warm him.
Until then he was trapped. Like a moth to a bare flame he would return until he was too badly burnt to get close anymore. Why would he want to go anywhere else when she was the light and all else was darkness?
All he could do was wait and love her until his heart was wasted, faded and wrung out. Then he would know peace again.
A/N: You may have seen this already on my Tumblr but I'm doing some consolidating - if it's your first time around, I hope you like my little attempt at angst!