A/N: A tribute to a much loved pairing, my favourite singer Ed Sheeran and his soon-to-be-released album Divide. Spinoff and companion piece to my Hiccstrid one-shot called 'Late Nights and Guiding Stars'. Sorry it's not seasonally appropriate.
Later Edit: I was alerted that by quoting the song's lyrics I'm breaking the guidelines, hence the lyrics' removal. I deem my story better when it had them, but one must do as the law says. Feel free to listen to the song while reading.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and the song.
Song that inspired this story: 'The A Team' by Ed Sheeran
Happy Valentine's Day!
Little Talks and Flying Lanterns
Life's tough – that, everybody knew. Rose Isabel knew it too. She'd just recently found out how tough exactly it could get.
She stood smiling under the streetlamp, the steam from her cup of hot cocoa framing her face. She'd kept on staring after the couple she'd just drown – a gorgeous blonde and a dorky brunet – and she'd seen the way the girl had kissed her boy for no particular reason; the two sure were in love.
Rose sighed, drank the last of the hot beverage and turned to gather her things. She liked to dream of being in love but now was not the time – she had to deal with the important things first, namely – picking up her paints. Those were her lifeline – she did draw for a living, after all. It wasn't the most profiting job, especially in the winter, but what other choice did she have? She had ran away from her – apparent – kidnapper a few months ago but no one would employ her – despite her ginormous amounts of talent in, well, everything, she didn't have the education required because the woman she'd used to call mother had been homeschooling her whenever she found the time – which was rarely ever.
Rose mentally scolded herself – she was lucky to have a somewhat stable income in the form of selling portraits, enough to feed herself and rent a miserable flat that she'd somehow managed to turn into a home. She should be heading for it though, unless she wanted to run across a drunken man even if it was Christmas Eve – what could she say, some people started the celebrations a bit early.
As she walked, Rose fished a packet of crackers from her mauve coat's holey pocket – the leftover half of it combined with the hot chocolate made for a decent dinner, if not a festive one. Frankly, she wasn't even going to celebrate – Christmas was all about family and she didn't have one, so…
She kept walking, mindful of the slush. She really shouldn't've ran away with these satin shoes – they were nowhere near warm enough for wintertime, not to mention the things were sporting quite a few holes by now. But, even with the dry crackers and torn soles, she could still find beauty around her – the clouds had thickened and fat snowflakes were swirling around the lampposts, weaving in and out of the lit areas like dozens upon dozens upon dozens of falling stars. She smiled. Yep, life was tough alright, but it could've been worse.
Just when the snow seeping through her holey shoes was starting to dampen Rose's mood again and the finished packet of crackers was leading her thoughts to unwanted paths she rounded the corner. The sight awaiting her stunned her speechless and immobile, making utter awe wash all over her – for she'd never seen something so beautiful up close.
A family – mother, father and four daughters – were standing in their front yard, all with comfy sweaters and braided hairs and warm smiles. The girls were holding the four ends of a net and under that net were so many flying lanterns, all lit and ready to be released in the sky; the parents were lighting the last few. One of the girls, the youngest sister, saw Rose and waved at her with the brightest my-front-tooth-just-fell smile, Rose just couldn't not wave back with a smile of her own. This simple action seemed to bring such joy to the girl – she lit up and waved her over. Rose obliged, softly chuckling to herself.
"Happy Christmas Eve!" the girl greeted when she was close enough. She laughed.
"Thank you, happy Christmas Eve to you too! I wish you loads of presents!" The little one grinned, just like she'd expected. "What are you doing?"
"Flying a loooooot of lanterns!" the kid beamed, throwing her hands in the air; her parents chuckled fondly as the eldest girl decided she had to elaborate.
"Every year on Christmas Eve we release flying lanterns, one for each of our years."
"They're thirty-two now!" the second oldest piped up, immediately followed by the next sister: "Dad says we'll have three whole dozens next year!"
"Wow!" Rose was genuinely awed and it must've shown because the youngest girl spoke again.
"You could set them free with us!"
"No, sweetie, I'd love to but this is your thing, isn't it? Wouldn't be fair of me to barge in on it."
The girl's brow furrowed. "I suppose you're right… But then," her eyes lit up with an idea, "then you should take one home with you to set free with your family!"
"Yeah!" the elder sisters chorused. Rose was touched.
"Really? Oh, you're all so kind girls, but—"
"It's no problem, dear," the mother smiled at her; the father was already giving her a lantern.
"We always buy a few extra," he said with a wink that made Rose giggle.
"Thank you, thank you so much!" She really didn't know what else to say, and for the second time that day. She cradled the lantern to her heart. "This will be the best Christmas Eve I've ever had!"
"Yay!" the girls chirped, drawling yet another smile from her. She left after a few more 'thank you's, a chorus of 'goodnight's following her.
And maybe she didn't have much and maybe the dry crackers had scratched at her throat and maybe her miserable flat was cold and empty – she had a flying lantern, a bead of light she was going to release in honour of her very first free Christmas.
She was almost home when she heard the unmistakable sound of an electric guitar through a crappy mobile speaker and a voice singing along – a street musician.
To her last day Rose didn't know what force made her change direction and go to the guitarist, but she listened to it and turned left instead of crossing the street. Another turn of a corner later she saw him – a tall guy with brown hair, a small beard and an indeed crappy speaker to which his guitar was connected. It was only now that she recognised the song he was singing.
"… This time we'll fade out tonight straight down the line…" He continued with the guitar solo, looking handsome and mesmerising and – and lonely, like he himself didn't know why he kept playing when the street was empty.
Something in Rose's chest panged and when the guitar-only part ended but the last chord hadn't quite faded yet she sang.
"And they say…"
The brunet's head snapped up, startled brown eyes locking on her; she just smiled and went on.
"... she's in the Class A Team, stuck in her daydream – been this way since eighteen, but lately…"
By now he had come to his senses and continued playing. After this line, however, he too started singing – only an octave lower, like the original song went. And they sang together, up untill the very last part.
"… it's too cold outside for angels to fly…"
"Fly, fly…" He let her belt out the higher part, much like she then left him the low one.
"... for angels to fly, to fly, to fly, angels to die."
For a second they just looked at one another. Then he cleared his throat and remarked: "Not for you, though."
"Huh?"
Somewhen through the song Rose had walked to him, but even up close she couldn't understand what he meant.
"'S not too cold for you to fly." He elaborated. Her brows knitted.
"You're calling me an- But I didn't even give you anything!"
He chuckled. "'S not about that, Goldilocks."
She searched his eyes, meant to ask… but she fell in those brown depths, past the layers of 'I'm too cool' and 'I don't care' and 'it's called sarcasm' to the very bottom – where she found someone much like herself. So, instead of asking what it was about, she spoke a different question.
"Do you have a lighter and a spare hand? I want to light this lantern."
A couple of minutes later they were holding hands, watching the lantern fly up, up, up in the darkness, despite the snowflakes.
A couple of hours later they were talking and laughing in Rose's flat around whatever food they found in the only open shop and she was finding dozens upon dozens of nuances and hues of his – Eugene's – character.
A couple of days later he gave her a belated Christmas gift in the form of a small chameleon and she knew he had been saving up for a home of his own and the fact that he'd bought her Pascal anyways made her so grateful it didn't bear expressing.
A couple of weeks later she finally convinced him to move in with her instead of living on a park bench.
A couple of months later they were walking hand in hand and kissing each other for no particular reason and being in love – not unlike another pair of a gorgeous blonde and a dorky brunet.
Life's tough – that, everybody knew. Rose Isabel knew it too, much like Eugene did. But they also knew that if you had someone with whom to live this tough life, it suddenly seemed a little less so. And, luckily for them, they both had a someone to call their beloved.
Fin