It is 11:45 at night as I am starting this right now, I have work to do tomorrow, and yet here I am, in my room, writing. I may or may not have a problem. *hangs head* And I'm staying up late to write fluff. Of all things. Fluff.
Coward's Game
Tears trickled from Amelia's eyes as she stood outside her boyfriend's house, late at night, shivering in the cold. They dripped off her cheeks, and, freezing midair, hit the frozen ground with a quiet shatter. She had come to Feliciano's house at, what was it, three in the morning in the hopes that she could tell him something that she'd been aching to tell him all week.
When she'd left, it hadn't been that late- no, when she had left, it was six in the evening, but, in a feat of procrastination, she had gone off and gotten herself drunk beforehand, not realizing that she couldn't drive drunk until she stood in front of her car, her keys shaking in her hands.
She'd had to walk to her boyfriend's house.
A full six miles away.
In rather-uncomfortable flats.
And without her familiar, comforting bomber jacket, because she forgot it at home.
And now, still drunk off her ass, standing in front of her boyfriend's house, she couldn't find it in herself to tell him the truth that she'd wanted to tell him all week. The courage and the will to do so had drained out of her. Maybe getting drunk had sounded like a great idea to do beforehand, but, in a weird way, it had installed in her some sort of weird clarity that held her back from doing what she came here to do.
So, yes, maybe getting drunk had been a terrible idea from the start.
But she couldn't have borne to tell him sober.
And at the same time, she couldn't bear to tell him drunk.
Could she bear to tell him at all?
It was important.
It concerned him, and his relationship with her.
He deserved to know.
But she hadn't the strength to tell him.
She was typically so strong- she'd stand tall to defend what mattered most to her, her beliefs, her home, her country, her friends, her family, her boyfriend.
But now, standing at his doorstep- (how had she gotten there? She was standing on the outskirts of his home a few seconds ago-) she hadn't a single drop of courage to tell him what she came to do in the first place.
Did this make her weak?
Yeah. It made her weak.
Tears came and crystallized as they fell, before they shattered into a million pieces as they hit the ground.
Plink.
Plink.
Plink.
She clutched at the thin fabric of her shirt, sobbing some more.
Plink.
Plink.
Plink.
Goosebumps prickled on her legs as she stood on his doorstep, silently crying. It had started snowing. Unless she wanted hypothermia, she needed to come out of the cold, but she couldn't find it in herself to do even that.
Plink.
Plink.
Plink.
A light came on from inside the house somewhere. Amelia sunk to the ground, her hands clutching her arms, rubbing them for warmth, burying her face in her knees, ashamed.
Plink.
Plink.
Plink.
Gasping as her breath came shorter, more plaintive wails built up inside of her.
Anxiety.
Was this what it was called?
Plink.
Plink.
Plink.
The door cracked open, before swinging open fully to reveal a very confused-looking Feliciano. Amelia looked up at him blearily, mind muddled by the drink, shivering from the cold.
"Amelia? Il mio amore? What is wrong?"
Amelia curled up on herself some more, shaking. Feliciano knelt down beside her, his normally musical, happy-go-lucky Italian accent now tinged with worry. Reaching out, he put his hand on her shoulder before lightly touching her forehead.
"Are you alright?"
Amelia shook her head no. Feliciano pulled her up and escorted her inside. Amelia promptly collapsed, and Feliciano swung his arms around her, capturing her in a tight, concerned, yet comforting hug. A soothing stream of Italian poured from his lips in a flowing waterfall. She groaned, and threw up on the floor. Sighing, Feliciano gently pulled back her hair and rubbed her back as she proceeded to empty her stomach.
"Sorry." More tears came to her eyes as she looked back to him.
"You're drunk."
The words weren't a question, rather, a statement. Amelia half-heartedly nodded, more tears coming to her eyes.
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I'll clean it up later."
Slowly, Feliciano coaxed her to his bedroom, where she collapsed into his bed. He knelt down beside it, and reached out to touch her forehead again.
When he spoke, his words were soft, forgiving, comforting, but sad.
"Why did you get drunk?"
"I needed to tell you something. It was bothering me. I thought being drunk would loosen me up so I could tell you. Only when I was about to get into the car, it occurred to me that I couldn't drive drunk. So I walked. And I hadn't the foresight to wear decent shoes or to bring my jacket. And then, when I got here, I got scared." Her words slurred together, making it almost impossible for Feliciano to discern her words. He softly petted her hair in a soothing manner, as if one might calm a spooked animal.
"Do you want to tell me now?"
"No. I can't bright myself to."
A pause. Amelia cocked her head a little, tears coming to her eyes.
"Feli, does this make me a coward?"
Feliciano froze, looking at her. He slowly shook his head.
"No, no. Ah- English is a difficult language. It's hard to express what you want to say, and that makes us scared, right?"
Amelia's words were soft, sad, and drowsy, as she was falling asleep.
"But does this make me a coward?"
Feliciano bit back a wince, hating the question.
"No." He reached to run his fingers through her hair one last time.
"If anything, you're the bravest out of the both of us."
She was asleep.
A/N: There may or may not be a continuation to this. I dunno. The world needs more ItAme. Because, let's be real here, it's adorable. But let me know if you want a continuation to this, and I might add a chapter or two once I get the time.