Johann Faust's thick tufts of light yellow hair wisped and curled along with the wind. A book was nestled tightly in the grip of his chubby little fingers as he trudged along, wearing clothes twice as big as they should have been. A plaid red shirt; a heavy, beige-colored leather coat; baggy, ripped black jeans that caught underneath his tattered sneakers...on top of all this, he carried his many textbooks in a heavy-duty knapsack that slung over his left shoulder.
His height made him seem fragile as well; he wasn't terribly skinny, but his short stature was more fitting of a younger child. He had a face that looked softer and whiter than most ten-year-olds, albeit much of it was hidden behind his thick, circular glasses. Just because he was a pale, blond German does not mean that he was cherubic; he looked almost sickly. Nose dripping again, he wiped it with his rough, ample sleeve.
"Fluch," he cursed to himself, his words manifesting in a perfect white plume. It was three days before Christmas. Kicking the slush that had found itself from the curb onto the sidewalk, he sniffed again.
I am feeling so tired...I need sleep...
But not as much as I need to study...
Girls he recognized from school passed him up, dressed in the cutest plush coats and chatting about presents and boys. He blushed in their presence, but would not even dream of speaking with them. He had never talked to girls...even the dearest one to him.
Eliza Amsel.
Thinking about her brought a genuine smile to his face.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, causing the girls ahead of him to whip their heads around in bewilderment. Flustered, he breathed hard and plopped his overbearing sac onto the icy pavement.
After fuddling about in it for a couple of minutes, he found what he was looking for.
It was small, folded up, and yet frightfully lovely.
Uncrumpling the little white mess of paper, it shed its sparkles onto the walk. Dazzling the boy's eyes, he was proud to have made it.
With newfound confidence and an urge to see how his love was doing, he gathered his sprawled things and ran with great speed down the block.
Plodding along with uncanny determination, he halted suddenly in front of a heavy wooden door. He had to kneel to catch his breath, and he abandoned his load to the pavement once again. Heaving deeply, the chilly December air was starkly cold against his hot, wet throat. He coughed repeatedly and then wiped his mouth.
I can't waste my time.
It was a tall house with many quaint windows, but through any of them one wouldn't find a note in sight for Christkind or even a Christmas tree around. Johann knew that his parents had three Christmas trees in their parlour alone!
Johann found interest in the window to the right of the door. He accidentally spied the silhouettes of Mr. and Mrs. Amsel through the weak candlelight of their parlour.
Oh, dear... he thought. I shouldn't watch...
But he did, of course.
Curiously, the outlines of the couple came together. Arms whisked themselves out, long shadows unexpectedly cutting through the light of the candle, and then (the boy covered his eyes with his hands)...
The arms wrapped themselves around each other.
When the thin glass did not leak out any sounds of yelling or sad cries, Johann mustered the courage to unshield his sight. He realized that their faces were showing through the window in profile, and an instant later, the Mr. and Mrs. came together in a tender kiss.
The boy outside the red house sighed. It was dingy inside Eliza's living room at the time, but through her parents' dark silhouettes a beacon of hope shone through.
With a small smile and a sniff, he looked down at the letter in his hands and then up to the window of Eliza's bedroom.
Pitch black.
Ah, she needs her rest.
Sleep in heavenly piece, Eliza.
He considered it bold, but he pressed his lips to the paper. Whiter than the snow, it was skillfully cut into the shape of an angel and sprinkled all over with sugar and blue glitter. Johann had very steady hands, and it showed that he had put his all into making a creative and touching letter for Christkind to read.
With a last huff of the thin, wintery night air, he jammed the letter into to sill of the front window and dashed on home.
A gust of wind blew by, unable to carry the angel-cut note along with it. A closer look would reveal the spidery, scrawled, beautiful handwriting that Faust had printed on. It read:
Dear Christkind,
Please make Eliza well and help her family to become happy. I wish for them to have a frohe Weihnachten.
A Merry Christmas to you as well.
AUTHOR NOTES:
Hello there. It's my first FaustxEliza.
I must confess...I really don't know if Eliza's maiden name was ever mentioned. TT.TT So sorry if it's different from the one that I picked for her! But I chose Amsel for a reason. It means "Blackbird" in German. What a lovely, dark name, don't you think? It is also hauntingly reminiscent of the Beatles' song "Blackbird," written by Paul McCartney:
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night/Take these broken wings and learn to fly/All your life/You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night/Take these sunken eyes and learn to see/All your life/You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
(etc...)"
The lyrics are beautiful, and I think that they fit as an ode to Eliza, from Faust.
I thought that I would add in some German cultural notes so as to keep readers from any confusion.
Well, here they are:
Christkind is a winged, male child (he usually appears quite androgynous, though...) who is dressed in pure white robes and wears a golden crown. He distributes gifts to children in Christmastime, and traditionally, notes are left on the windowsill for him. And yes, sugar is oftentimes sprinkled on the letters.
Frohe Weihnachten (if you didn't get it...)"Merry Christmas."
If you have any more questions, please ask them when you review. Thank you!
I hope that you enjoy the rest of the fic when it is posted, and thank you for reading. I don't think that it's ever too early to get into the spirit of Christmas. Actually, as the plot marches on, this is really just a story of what I feel true love is, anyway. It will go on beyond just Christmas (in July...).
And if you think it's out of season...
Please keep it in mind when December rolls around! Haha.
Arigatou gozaimasu,
SS