Weiss breathed. Crisp, cool air shivered through her nostrils with startling clarity. She closed her eyes, breathing softly; deep breaths that filled her, whistling in and wavering shakily out. She felt pins of sweat beading on fingertips. No matter how many times she rubbed her hands, her fingers continued to return to their irritably slippery state.
She rubbed her fingers across the side of her thumb to dry them, if only for a moment. She bounced on her heels, and felt a subtle burning behind her eyes.
Weiss turned away from the door, bringing both hands to her mouth as her breath came shakier than every, panicking, heavy breaths. She moved her hands back and forth from her mouth to her hips and paced up and down the path.
No, she told herself with each step. No, you cannot put this off. She sucked in air, motioning her hands down her torso slowly to force her breathing to mimic it in an effort to calm jittery nerves. No, this cannot happen another day. She swallowed, gasping afterwards and balling her hands into fists as a thousand creatures stirred and tickled in her gut. No, you will not back away.
Yes, you will speak.
With the decision made, Weiss turned. She pushed her shoulders back, straightening her posture. She fixed a tuft of her snowy hair that had fallen loose, tucking in behind her ear. She breathed once, slow and steady. She stepped forward.
Immediately, her body shuddered. Her stomach convulsed. She turned, leaning over and held back the urge to be horribly, violently sick with nerves.
"Why is this so hard?" She whispered. Her voice cracked as she spoke. I've dealt with worse than this all my life, she reminded herself. Public speaking, being judged, everything, why is this so much harder?
She straightened up, wincing at the sickness in her stomach. She shook her head. Focus, Weiss. She thought. You can do this.
This time, Weiss made it two steps down the path before her physical apprehension made her turn away. The edge of tears gleamed in her eyes, furious and hot against the cold, unforgiving night air. Weiss was furious with herself for feeling so weak.
But she would not give in. She had resigned herself to doing this, and nothing would stop her.
She took a moment to observe the night, to gaze about herself and clear the buzzing hive of her mind.
The moon was beautiful that night. It hung in the sky, shattered across its surface with the purest pale light. Stars were barely visible around it, snuffed out by comparison as they struggled to twinkle and fight for Weiss' attention. But the moon was still. It was solid, and bright, and beautiful.
A soft smile graced her lips. She rubbed her dry eyes, and massaged the tension from her throat briefly.
Weiss focused on the door. "Okay." She muttered shakily.
And with that, her conviction was set.
She stepped forth, conquering a single step at a time. Each one, perfectly carved yet organic, echoed the sound of her shoes. They clacked upon their surfaces, gliding across the tips of clean-cut grass between each until they came to rest together, before the front door.
Weiss breathed. She reached up, and knocked on the door.
Muscles hammered in her chest, a caged kestrel of red a white burning to escape her breast. She heard shuffling feet and soft, muffled voices inside. She lifted her head, brushed the same loose strand of hair back again, and clasped her hands before her.
She heard a latch slide, and the door peeked open. "Weiss?"
Her heart stopped when she saw her. Nothing moved, not her heart or her restless fingers, not her eyes as they met, nor her lips nor thoughts. Even the wind stilled in a pure, perfect moment.
"What are you doing out here, it's freezing!"
Her breath was a shudder, but she drew it in, and finally spoke. "Just… don't say anything, okay?" She made her request quickly, slowing herself after so as not to rush. A thousand preparations made her inclined to speak her rehearsal in an instant, but she held back that driving urge. "I have something I… something I need to say."
Her eyes were soft when she nodded, looking at Weiss uncertainly.
"I first saw you when I was thirteen years old, and since then, I've felt like I know you. I know the way your smile flashes teeth when you're embarrassed. I know the way you blink rapidly when you're surprised. I know the way your shoulders slump with relief, and I know the way," Weiss smiled wryly, "I know the way you feel, about everything."
Weiss held up one hand gently when she opened her mouth to speak, keeping her silent. "With any luck, by next year, my gut will have stilled. With luck I will have more sense that too knock on your door in the middle of the night. With luck, by next year, you wont even remember this…." She paused, forcing herself to make contact through the hardest moment. "But just for today, let me say, without an expectation or agenda, that to me…"
She sighed. "You are perfect, Pyrrha."
She drew in a slow breath.
"And my foolish, stupid, dumb, idiot heart," she smiled, fighting the heat in her eyes and the lump in her throat that cracked her voice, "will love you until the day I die."
She managed a smile and sniffed, forcing herself to stay together and keep her eyes dry. Pyrrha's mouth was agape, just the tiniest bit. Every muscle in her face was relaxed, the tiniest hint of her teeth visible through her open mouth, and her wide eyes staring in complete astonishment at Weiss. She didn't expect any less.
Now, Weiss knew the way she looked when she was speechless, too.
"Happy Valentine's Day." Weiss smiled gently. She swallowed, nodded politely, and turned back to the street. She walked away from Pyrrha's house.
A weight was gone from her; and her strides were free. The kestrel in her chest settled, lulling into place with acceptance, as the wisps of worry, nervousness and concern drifted away through the clear night, and Weiss no longer needed to worry if they froze in the cold air, for she was free of them.
She heard heavy footsteps behind her, and a hand grasped her arm. Weiss turned.
Pyrrha stood in front of her. She smiled shakily, flashing teeth. She cupped Weiss' cheeks with warm fingers, and brought her close, kissing her softly.
Weiss breathed through the kiss. She didn't move her hands, did not hold Pyrrha as she would in a daydream, she just enjoyed the kiss, the feeling of her warm, perfect lips against her own.
Pyrrha rested her forehead against Weiss', giving her a soft-lipped smile and a single puff of embarrassed amusement. "Happy Valentine's Day." She whispered.
She wrapped her hands around the sides of Weiss' coat, pulling them a little further across her chest, and pressed a hand to her shoulder with one last friendly smile before she moved back to her house.
For once, Weiss didn't look back.
She gazed out at the night and smiled. And that was enough.