I pushed opened the heavy wooden door and turned out into the garden, trying to imitate the disinterested stroll of gossiping apprentices. She's there on the stone bench, in front of the apple tree. Early than me, as always, with a book in hand. We share a nod of acknowledgement, and I sit down next to her; an arm's length away.
An arm's length; the closest I could ever get to someone without showing my feelings.
We always sit at the arm's length. Sometimes, I would sit on the edge, daring her to come closer. Sometimes, it's her turn. Still, we sit at the arm's length. Always.
Unless if the afternoon winds brings rain – then we sit closer. I always thank the Maker for the leaky spot. Water dripped onto the stone, pushing us both to the right. Closer. At a heartbeat away.
Today, despite the cold winds over the Lake, there is no rain. So we sit at an arm's length away. She reads the book, and I am dozing. Or trying to.
Of course, it wasn't always like this. This bench was mine from the start.
Being the oldest apprentice in the Kinloch Hold, I had always been here, on the right side of the stone bench. At the quietest corner of the outer garden, behind the apple tree. I had been here for so long, I was now as much a part of the landscape as the tree itself.
This was the place I was to be found. Alone.
The numerous friends I had knew to keep their distance. More than an arm's length away. Whenever I was behind this apple tree, I was to be solitary, undisturbed. It was an unspoken rule that everyone knew.
So I was surprised to find a girl here. It was only a few months ago.
I had never seen her before. A new apprentice, under the hold of the Templars. She sat, deeply concentrating in her book, oblivious to my arrival. Oblivious to her unspoken challenge. I wondered for a long time why I had not shooed her away. This bench was mine. She was unwelcome here.
But I let her stay.
Perhaps it was the pity of a newcomer. Perhaps it was out of amusement. Perhaps it was because of her. Regardless of the reason, she had stayed on the bench on that warm summer day.
We shared greetings back inside the Tower. As customary, I became her guide into her new life. A friend to be found… I was always a friend to be found. Then we said goodbyes, smiled, and went into our respective quarters.
The day after, I found her again behind the apple tree. We did not talk. We simply sat down, an arm's length, and spent the afternoon there.
From that day on, the bench became ours.
It was a queer thing to say. 'Ours'. Not mine, but ours.
A hustle of trees and a yell. We both looked up. The time was up. She closed her book with a soft snap, and I grudgingly stand up. She leaves first. I, slowly, follow.
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
I knew this feeling. The tiptoe of the heartbeat. The small, almost nonexistent smile. Unconscious fidgeting. Most importantly, thinking. Constantly thinking. I knew it very well. And I knew the answers to the questions.
I knew also that my answers were all wrong.
I pushed opened the heavy wooden door and turned out into the garden, trying to imitate the disinterested stroll of gossiping apprentices. Today, I failed miserably. What was so different about today?
I arrived earlier than her.
The bench seemed so empty. Cold. Nothing behind the apple tree. For the first time in a year, I was alone again on this solitary bench. Right now, it was neither mine nor hers. No-one's.
I sit down and close my eyes. I think. Again. I sit there for a while. An apple hung an arm's length away. Ripe, sweet, red. My nose pick up its fragrance. A grin spreads across my face. I lift my hands towards the fruit.
Some moments later, she arrived with a book in hand. We share a nod of acknowledgement. I close my eyes nonchalantly.
A soft giggle tickles my ears. Then I hear a crisp crunch as she bites into an apple.
My lips betray me. It's already smiling.
A rustle, softer than the dance of the leaves, and she sits down. Closer. Closer than an arm's length away. There is no rain today. No ringing pongs of dripping water. In its place, a heartbeat. I'm not sure if it's mine or hers. Maybe ours.
I feel a nudge, and blood rushes to my ears. I open my eyes. I do my best to remain cool in this warm autumn's day. My eyes meet hers. She's holding up the apple.
I shake my head. "Enjoy it. It's yours."
She smiles widely. I return to my sleeping position, eyes closed. I think that was the first word that I said to her here. 'Enjoy'. Enjoy the apple. Enjoy being here.
We sat for a while. Her eating the apple. I, dozing. Tomorrow, we will sit again at an arm's length away. But today, we share our heartbeats.
I don't want the time to pass.
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—