The Broken Heart of Winter
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
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She was trembling.
I'm not sure whether this be because of the cold or something else, but the result gave me the feeling that this girl truly was fragile, despite what she might claim.
Deciding not to mention her trembling, since it might upset her even further, I instead pull her into my arms. Not in the kind of romantic embrace that one might expect from such a phrasing, but rather into a friendly hug. A hug to tell her that I'll be here for her, no matter what.
She stiffens at first, surprised by the gesture and uncertain on how to react to it, but soon I can feel her relax. Clinging to me as if I was the only thing that kept her from drowning, it's uncharacteristic of her, but understandable.
Even with all of her powers, she's still just a girl. A girl that, just like any other, isn't immune to heartbreak.
The cold weather is finally starting to force me into noticing it – I can feel my fingers growing numb – and I realize that we need to find somewhere warm, she's in much worse condition than I, and if my hands are growing numb, then she might very well be struggling to feel her arms.
Still holding onto her tightly, hoping that I might be able to – if not protect her from the elements – at least share my own warmth with her, I begin to look around, wondering about where we might actually be located at the moment – I wasn't really paying much attention to landmarks during my somewhat frantic search for her.
…
I'm lost.
This can't be good, I need to take her somewhere warm soon or she might freeze to death.
Giving up on finding something familiar, I begin to look for something else – a shop, a hotel, any place that might be warm. Unfortunately, I find it.
Oh, the irony of this is enough to make me want to strangle fate, or god, or whatever it might've been that orchestrated this situation. I don't mind a little irony every now and then, but this is just… I'm pretty sure that this is the very definition of a bad idea, and yet I get the feeling that, if I don't, she might really die.
Cursing whatever force might be at work, I look up at the sign above the love hotel's entrance, pray that nothing bad will come from this, and begin to walk the heartbroken and very cold girl inside.
I'm not sure whether or not I should be thankful of her distressed state, but, because of it, she didn't seem to notice anything but the warmth as we entered the lobby.
Of course, there were things in this lobby that just shouldn't be in a lobby – many of which were hardly unexpected, considering – but I'd rather not go into too many details on this one since I'm trying my very hardest not to notice them.
Standing with her a few feet inside of the door, I pray that we'll go unnoticed by any employees until she's regained a little of her lost warmth. Partly because they might throw us out, and partly because they might welcome us with open arms.
It seemed as if whatever god, or being of power, were watching over us and protecting us from harm, had no intention of letting us get away that easily.
"Hello, how may I be of assistance?" the clerk looked at us with that face that tells anyone that sees it that they don't mind about their actual age or relationship – as long as they don't get caught – and that they wouldn't be judged no matter how strange their requests – as long as they paid well and didn't disturb any of the other customers.
It was the kind of face that had been in the business for a very long time, and belonged to a person that wouldn't hesitate to recommend any of their more special rooms. There was only one way to prevent this from happening.
"Yes, just a normal room," glancing at the girl next to me, "with a shower. She's kind of cold," before the clerk could give any hints about me helping her with that, I continued, "and so am I."
The clerk seemed thoughtful for a moment, then they nodded. After that, it was only pay for the room, or leave, and since the latter wasn't possible with the way she was still shivering, we were soon climbing the stairs towards the room that had been recommended.
The room was deceptively normal.
She seemed a little reluctant to let go of me, but after realizing that it was her letting go, or me entering the shower with her, she decided that the emotional support would still be here after she'd warmed up.
As she disappeared into the bathroom, I collapsed on the floor beside the bed – I'm awkward enough about all of this as it is.
Looking out through the window – the kind of window that was designed so as not to let anyone look in – the weather doesn't seem to be letting up, and since neither one of us possess the adequate clothes for it, I'm a little relieved that I've paid for the entire night – embarrassing as admitting that might be.
She's wearing the same clothes as she entered with when she emerges from the bathroom, but her wet hair – and the fact that she seems quite warm – proves that she actually did take a shower. Looking at her, I'm almost tempted into taking a shower as well, but decide against it since I don't want to leave her alone any more than absolutely necessary.
She sits down next to me on the floor, our backs against the bed, and I give her another hug. Pulling her in close I can still feel her trembling, and this time, it can't be blamed on the cold.
I'm not sure how long I sit there, holding the crying girl in my arms, not saying anything. But as she slowly slips into sleep, I know that hours must have passed.
I slowly pick her off the floor and carry her to the bed, gently tucking her in so as not to wake her, I then sit back down on the floor.
I guess we'll deal with all of this when we wake up tomorrow, but until then, I'm going to sleep. Which really is easier said than done considering the hard floor beneath me.
---
Pain.
Pain is my first experience as I struggle to break free from sleeps dark embrace. Somewhere inside of me an annoying voice points out that it's my own fault for sleeping on the floor, but it shuts up as it remembers why I chose to sleep on the floor instead of my bed.
Slowly rising to a sitting position, I look at the bed. She's still sleeping, but it seems as if she's getting closer to waking.
Wondering what time it is I look at my watch, only to realize that it must've stopped sometime during the previous day. Cursing whatever gods might be enjoying messing with my life to such an extent, I look outside the window, hoping that I might be able to see what time it is by the light.
It doesn't look as if the sun is shining quite as bright as it normally does, so I guess it's still morning.
Suppressing a sigh, I begin to think of exactly how we're supposed to get out of the hotel without risking running into anyone that might misunderstand the situation. Unfortunately, I'm unable to think of anything by the time that she opens her eyes, looking somewhat confused by her surroundings.
Deciding to be blunt and honest – lets just get this over with – I open my mouth.
"We're in a love hotel," that sure sparked a reaction, and she looks up at me in slight panic, "You were getting dangerously cold, and since I wasn't able to figure out our location, and this place was nearby…" I trail off and she seems to slowly be regaining her memory of the previous night.
Finally she opens her mouth, and with a quiet voice.
"Thank you," a pause, "for everything."
I stare at her for a moment, surprised by the strange fragility in her voice, but shakes my head.
"It's nothing, anyone would've done the same," she looks at me, and I can feel that she really does doubt that, but she lets it slide.
Soon afterwards, we're on our way out of the hotel, towards the cold and unknown streets. It's at this time that I realize that we've still got no way of returning to our respective homes, and I can feel panic slowly building up inside of me.
Thankfully, as we pass the reception, I spot a pile of maps of the city. And – after asking the receptionist to point out our current location – we leave the hotel with a map and instructions on how to get to a place where we should easily be able to make it home from.
We walk in silence, the kind of calm effective walk that you walk when you have destination and a lot of things to think about – and were very good at avoiding tripping over your own legs.
I don't know what will happen when we meet up with the others again – it'll happen sooner or later, and right now I'm really hoping on 'later' – I don't know if any of them knows of her distress, or if they're happily oblivious to it all.
However, I know that if they do know, they'll try to comfort her in any way they can, and I'm really not sure if that's the best approach. She might need some time away from them, after all, those two are the cause of all of this, and the other one is pretty much useless at everything.
I sigh quietly as we walk. It doesn't matter how much I try to analyze the situation, because in the end, it's her decision to make.
Finally – the chase of the previous night took us quite far away – we reach the point where our different destinations separate our paths. But as I tell her to take care of herself, and begin to turn towards my own home, I can feel a slight tug on my shirt.
Turning around, I'm faced with her pleading eyes, and any thoughts I've had of leaving her alone, are thrown out of the window in an instant. I nod, and continue our walk towards her home.
We pass others, people who have other reasons for wandering the streets, despite the cold morning air.
It feels as if we've been walking for a very long time, yet, it's not an unpleasant feeling. It's kind of nice to be able to do something, I guess it might be because I know that soon there will be nothing to do, nothing but to sit next to her, comforting her to the best of my abilities.
Compared to that feeling of inactivity despite her obvious pain, walking like this, despite the cold and the sad silence, is something I wouldn't mind to do until my feet turn bloody.
But, like always, there is an end.
The deafening quiet emerging from within as she opens the door is terrifyingly lonely.
We hang up our jackets – or whatever we grabbed as we rushed out the door – and I help her prepare some tea.
I say 'help', but it was more along the lines of, 'keeping her company and making sure that her trembling hands didn't break any of the porcelain'.
I know that we talked, but I can't remember a single word about it. It's a talk, designed to pretend like everything is alright, that yesterday never happened, and that tomorrow will be just an ordinary day.
How long did we stay like that, before she broke? Before her voice was interrupted by sobs? Before the tears began to roll down her face once more?
I don't know. I don't care.
The only thing that matters is the girl trembling in my arms. The girl who holds onto me as if her life depended on it.
I don't know how long it takes for me before I realize that the noise comes from my phone, it takes me a few more moments before I understand what that means.
Someone is calling me. I hesitate for a moment, but then goes out into the kitchen to answer.
"Finally! I've been trying to reach you forever! Where are you!? Why did you suddenly rush out like that!?"
"I'm sorry," I look towards the living room, "something came up."
"Something? What kind of something was it to get you to run out like that!?" the voice seems to have calmed down, but still manages to sound characteristically annoyed.
"It's something of a family matter, there's no need to worry, but I asked her to help me out with a few things, I hope you don't mind."
"Help out with a few things? What the hell are you using her for!? Manual labor!?"
"No, nothing like that. It's simply something that I needed her help with."
"And she agreed?"
"Yes."
"Well, I guess I can't really tell you that you can't if she's already agreed to help you… take care, okay?"
"Yes, goodbye," as the voice echoes me, I hang up, and move back towards the living room.
She's still sitting where I left her, the tears don't seem to have stopped during the time I was gone, and I sit down next to her, gently pulling her into a comforting hug once more.
---
She's sleeping now.
I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep for a while though, despite the dark sky signaling that the day has already ended.
So instead of trying to locate a futon for myself, I simply sit next to her as she sleeps, doing my best not to think of how painful it must be for her, so painful that she – a girl that doesn't seem able to shed tears – cries herself to sleep.
She begins to struggle weakly, as if she's trying to fight against something in her dreams, and as tears begin to pour down her face, I gently wipe them away, carefully taking her hand in mine hoping that it that'll be enough to tell her that I'm here.
I don't know how long it takes before she finally settles down, I don't know how many times I've told her soothingly in a quiet voice that I'm right here, and that there is nothing to worry about, I don't even know if I fell asleep, or if I was so caught up in this that I didn't notice that the sky had turned light once again, signaling that the sunrise is drawing near.
I sit there, dumbfounded by the strangeness of the brightening sky, until a small grumbling noise reaches my ears.
It is at this moment that I realize that I'm not sure if we ever ate a proper meal yesterday, and I decide that – although it's not necessarily something you should do without asking first – I should probably try using the kitchen.
I don't really know what it is that I'm cooking, I'm kind of just going with whatever there is to work with, but I'm making sure that there is enough for about five normal people – I'm really hungry, and in normal circumstances she could probably win an eating competition without breaking a sweat.
As I'm working, I can hear the sound of footsteps behind me – it might be weird to say this about footsteps, but even they managed to somehow sound fragile – as she entered the kitchen I glance at her, trying to think of what to say.
"I hope you don't mind… but I thought you might want some breakfast," I wave a little at the table where I've already begun setting up the wide variety of food – she should be able to eat at least something out of it.
She seems a little shocked at the prospect of having someone else make her breakfast, and for the first time in what seems like forever, I'm able to see a face on her that isn't crying, a face that's just… kind of drawing a blank.
At first, she only pokes the food, seemingly uncertain of whether or not she's capable of eating, but after a few bites, her hungers kicks in and she begins to eat in earnest.
I started cooking with the intent of feeding myself, but at this point, I'm actually feeling too relieved by her renewed appetite to really remember to eat properly myself – some eating still occurs though.
The meal ends much too soon and the kitchen grows much too quiet as I get up to do the dishes, but then I feel a small tug on my shirt.
I don't really know how I interpreted something like that as offering to help, but it seems as if I was correct as she appears to enjoy the activity of drying of the dishes – there were a lot of food and, as an effect, there were a lot of dishes used in making it.
Normally I'd be a bit annoyed at doing all of this – there's no way anyone could enjoy something like this – but right now, it is so very pleasant to be able to do something, even if it's something as mundane as doing the dishes.
Seeing the concentrated expression on her face as she dries each plate perfectly – it's amazing how she seems to be good at everything she does – I have this feeling that, no matter what, I want to protect her to the best of my abilities, even if that only means holding her tightly as she cries.
But despite this, I can't blame those two. They didn't know, so they can't really be blamed for it, but even if they did, I'm happy for them. And yet, just as I hope that those two will remain happy, I want to somehow be able to dry this girl's tears.
Am I being greedy? Is this really so much to ask for?
I'm shaken from my thoughts as I notice that it seems as if I've run out of dishes. She seems to have been thinking just as deeply as me, since she's only now noticing that I haven't handed her another plate.
I don't want her to cry again, it doesn't matter if it's me being selfish.
"You know, I'm sure it might be a good idea to clean this place," I look at her for confirmation and she seems slightly relieved.
And so we begin to clean, dusting places that doesn't need to be dusted, rearranging things that are located perfectly where they are. It's useless, but it feels as if we're doing something, and right now, that's all that matters.
A few hours later I ended up helping her cook more food – she seemed to finally have regained her appetite – and then we returned to cleaning.
But no matter how thorough you are at cleaning, sooner or later you will be forced to admit that it's already clean, and too soon this work, also, ended.
I don't know what to say, I don't know if I should say something, but as I stare out the window – that's been cleaned with the utmost diligence – I can see lights slowly coming on in other houses as the sky darkens, and I'm reminded of the previous night.
I don't know what crazy impulse made me grab her hand, just as she was slowly stopping to look around for something new to clean. I don't know what went through my head as I began to drag her towards the balcony door – that had been wiped clean twice, since the first time didn't take long enough.
But as I turn my head upwards, towards the sky where stars are slowly daring to make their entry, and then down again, I'm able to watch as her face slowly turned to another kind of relief. Not the kind of relief that you feel when you try not to think of bad things, but rather, the kind of relief that one can feel as they realize that, it's going to be okay, even if it still stings a little.
---
I couldn't for the life of me remember how long we stood there, staring up at the stars far above our heads, but in the end, the cold began to force itself upon us, and so we retreated into the warmth of indoors.
Something about her had changed, and she seemed a lot more like her usual self.
I know that she was still hurting, but there was no longer any need for me to be by her side. It was time for me to return to my own home – which I had completely neglected for almost three days.
As I asked her to take care of herself, and to call if anything happened, a brief hug was exchanged in front of the door, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It took me a moment before I realized the reason.
She wasn't trembling.
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A/n: I did write this with two certain characters in my head, but I did my very best to muddle the lines so that it would be hard for the reader to realize which two.
I think I was originally planning to make this one more romantic, but I guess it didn't really end up that way.