Bittersweet

The snow that fell that night, just like it did every other night, lovingly embraced the slightly dusty window that overlooked the city. The sleepy town gazed back through the window like a friendly neighbor, warm with the orange lights of houses that still had their inhabitants up and about. The snow on the window had a glazy effect upon the lights, diffusing the already fuzzy glow and breaking it up like fractals, or perhaps something reminiscent of a broken mirror.

In the gentle silence of this breezy, cold night, someone watched the snow as well. Violet eyes that reminded one of gazing into Arctic waters under the Aurora borealis were carefully fixated upon the window, never missing a snowflake as it touched down. These rare-colored oculars belonged to the owner of this window, this room, this place.

Willy Wonka sat on the edge of his bed, not moving an inch. Always one to be in deep thought, whether over a new idea or perhaps just over a decision or dilemma he had to face, he often spent nights sitting on his bed and gazing at the city through the one giant window. This night, however, he stared just a little bit more intently. This night, he had more to think about than just which new flavor he could come up with if he blended caramel and four varieties of toffee. This night, he had bigger problems.

Unblinking, he finally stood up and wandered over to the window, gloved hands behind his back. Everything was so silent, so breathless in the room. It was as if it was this way just for him, just for this night. He blinked. The darkness of the place was offset by a twinkle from somewhere. It was the familiar glint of his pocketwatch, he assumed. A nimble hand pulled out the timepiece and he focused upon the hands of the shiny article. He was apparently in such deep thought that even his vision blurred when he made an attempt to decipher something so simple as a pocketwatch. Finally, the violet oculars adjusted to the dim light.

"Well, it's 10 o'clock. Figure they'll shut off the machines about now...yep."

The man talked to himself more times than he could ever count, but what choice did he have? No one else lived there, and the Oompa Loompas spoke practically no English, despite their decent understanding of it. If they did speak it, it was during some kind of song they came up with while they worked and definitely not during normal conversation. Brushing this thought aside, the chocolatier gazed upwards. The giant smokestacks that were visible through the right side of his window stood like eerie silhouettes in the snowy darkness. Just as he predicted, the white smoke that puffed from their tops was gone now, dissolved, no longer mingling with the snowflakes. The chocolate factory was shut down for the night.

Only a week prior did this become a normal process.

There was a reason that Wonka stared at the snow just a little more intently this night. There was a reason he sat a little more still and more quiet than normal. And there was a reason he thought about things just a little bit deeper this night.

His beloved chocolate factory was going under. Again.

Going under, he thought. Again. And he couldn't believe it. Putting his hands in the pockets of his blood-red frock coat, he turned his gaze downwards and sighed the deepest sigh in a while. This time, it wasn't because of thieves. This time, it was simply because of low quality. Those who did not know the current situation would scoff easily at the thought of Wonka's chocolates being of low quality, for they were regarded as the best in the world. What they didn't know was that just a few weeks ago, the now-famous Charlie Bucket, who only lived a block or two away, turned down Wonka's offer of giving him the factory to inherit. Instead of agreeing to live in the most majestic factory in the world, the young boy decided to stay with his family in that rickety little house of theirs. At this thought, Wonka's face tightened into a sort of angered gaze at the window in front of him. He didn't want these thoughts to come, but just staring out the window brought them on. Recollections of hovering in the glass elevator over the boy's house with snow practically dancing around the glass surfaces of the transport flooded him, along with flashes of the boy's joyful face. Of his own serene face, and yet he was so happy inside then. Happy that he found an heir. And he was rejected. Because of family.

Wonka had to admit to himself that he got himself into this mess. The smokestacks could easily be puffing out wave after wave of smoke, proving to the city that the amazing factory was pumping out more delicious treats for its people to enjoy, as well as for the world. However, just because he didn't let the boy's family live with him in the factory, he lost an heir. And so because of this, Wonka realized as he turned the golden handle of his balcony door, his creations plummeted in quality. Directly in relation to his feelings, apparently. The demand for the once-amazing Wonka products dropped, so production was cut, and so the smokestacks were silent throughout the night. And yet, there could be smoke...

The thought pierced the chocolatier's mind as he opened the balcony door, stepping outside. He was so deep in thought that he didn't even realize that the night was exceptionally cold, and he did not have his black overcoat on. Immediately, the snow coated his body and the wind whipped at him, icing his particularly sensitive face. He hugged himself with one hand, using the other to hold down his top hat as he made his way to the edge of the balcony. He had no particular reason for going outside, for he did it often when he really needed to think. Perhaps the icy chill stimulated his mind when he needed new ideas. However, this was not a night for ideas. Wonka decided that he was out here because of habit.

He slumped down on the snow-covered stone floor, curling up against the rock wall that happened to be the balcony's railing method. His pale, silky face was stung ever so painfully by the snow, and he visibly shivered, hugging himself as tightly as he could. Those violet eyes glazed over from the wind and snow combination, and he shut them, resting his chin on his knees. He was barely prepared for the several violent, spasmic shivers that would tear through his body, and he gasped, trembling even more now. His eyes popped open and somehow attempted to focus upon the towering smokestacks almost completely engulfing his field of vision. Silent, they were. Smokeless and dark, they stood like this every night now. And he didn't want to be reminded of the fact, but he had to deal with it every day. Every day, there was less demand. Every day, he was closer and closer to complete bankruptcy.

He could have had another heir contest. He could have gone on as normal for as long as he could until he got truly old and had more than one silver hair amidst his brown locks. He could have stayed successful as if nothing happened.

Then why did Charlie's refusal affect him so much? To the point of losing almost everything, day by day?

Family, he thought painfully. The word was such a dreadful thing in his mind. It stung like a bee, it bit like a dog. It made his blood boil to the point of him even losing the ability to say words that associated with 'family,' such as 'parents.' It sickened him, angered him. Now, it was worse than ever. He lost an heir because of that word. No, because of what it meant. It was the chocolatier's demise, that word.

And then he realized it. Violet eyes widened suddenly, though regretfully as the wind immediately tore into them. He knew exactly why he was so upset over all this. He just didn't want to think about it. He never wanted to. Never in his life. He didn't even want to think about it tonight, and he certainly did not need to think about it, for the normally cheerful chocolatier kept negative thoughts out of his eccentric mind even when in the deepest thought. He clenched his teeth, his breathing picking up as a wave of what seemed to be rage overwhelmed his fragile, freezing body. The thoughts of that man once again haunted him like they did before, but now the pieces fit. Charlie had such a good family. Such a loving family.

Wonka didn't even notice the tears that now heated his frozen face.

"You must be so HAPPY, dad."

Flashes of the dentist's office traveled into his mind. Flashes of the headgear. The yelling. The noise. The punishments. The abuse. The--

"SO HAPPY, aren'tcha? I bet you are. You got your wish, didn't you, dad? Your son is finally failing as a chocolatier..."

The sobs echoed as tears coated the translucent latex gloves that now covered their owner's face.

"Go ahead and collect the newspaper clippings about the once-successful chocolate factory. Oh, I'm sorry, did I say the 'c' word? Well, who cares now, huh? Go ahead and laugh at me and my... dream. Go ahead, dad."

More flashbacks. More sobs. And a sudden realization that things could have been different if--

The chocolatier suddenly stopped with his words. His sobs subsided for a moment. His snow-stricken face shook as it craned to look directly upwards at the thousands of stars that covered the night sky like the snow covers this city. He swallowed, breaths shaking. The starlight reflected beautifully in his gorgeous violet eyes, making them a spectacle of their own. It seemed calming, almost, the way the stars twinkled as if just for him. Perhaps they were twinkling just for him, because now, a different thought entered his troubled mind. He let out a wary, troubled giggle.

"Good night, starshine...the Earth says hello!"

The corners of his mouth slowly and reluctantly curled into a smile. The chaos in his mind faded away into a single memory. A single memory from seemingly nowhere, but he was thankful for it. A lullaby from long ago...a face he could only vaguely remember. A face he almost forgot.

And he began to cry again, curling up on his side, resting on the forbidding snow. The violet eyes stayed fixated upon the stars. The eccentric mind was fixated upon that face. The tears blinded him, but they kept the freezing cold out momentarily. And he smiled.

An ever so bittersweet smile.

"Mama..."

The eyes gently closed, flushing out their harbored tears.

"I wish you were alive..."

And the snow seemed to die down a little bit right there as the stars listened.

"...to be here with me..."