Emma was woken on a cool October night, as the wind howled and the branches of trees outside her bedroom window peacefully swayed like the tails of a whip. The tapping on the doors of the window brought her out of her slumber as she tiredly searched the room for the distracting noise. And there he was, standing on her balcony, motioning for her to open the shutter doors. His features were depressed and his eyes downcast as she moved to grasp a handle. She turned the lock slowly, watching him close his eyes through the glass that separated them, as he took a step back to let her out onto the balcony.
Her whisper was soft and curious as she wrapped her arms around her slender frame. "Will?" Her hip balanced the door open, "How did you get up here?"
He pressed a kiss against her lips, though it was barely a kiss. He looked nervous as he pulled back, his gaze finding the ground.
"I, umm...I'm not sure why I came. I just...I wanted to see you." She didn't have the heart to tell him that he shouldn't be there, that it was far too late and improper. She felt guilty for feeling ashamed that he was there, for the subtle anxiety that settled in her chest.
"Come inside, its freezing." He nodded at her words as he fisted his hands in his pockets.
Emma stepped out to make way for him, resting her back against the cool glass so he could slip into her bedroom in the dark of night. But he didn't move.
She watched him for a moment, concern melding with her lack of knowing what to say or do. What could possibly be the matter?
He took a step forward and she stepped back further, but suddenly he turned and his arms were around her waist, his face buried in her neck. He began to sob, cries against her skin, the flannel of her winter pyjamas dampened by his sadness. Her hand crept around his back, holding his masculine frame to her dainty self. He was warm, so very warm, but something about him felt so incredibly icy.
"What's wrong, Will?"
Another cry. More tears. The howl of the wind.
"Will, what happened?"
The cool cement beneath the soles of her small feet. His fingers digging harshly into her ribs. His neediness.
"Mrs Adler's sick."
And what could she possibly say?
"Oh."
Emma loosened her grip on him as his body slumped tiredly, exhausted by his outpour of emotion. He nodded against her shoulder, the slight stumble on his cheek brushing roughly against her neck as he continued.
"She's really sick."
Emma swallowed as he pulled back, his arms falling to his sides in defeat and depression. She wanted to reach out, to make him whole, to feel his heartbeat drum against her fingers so sweetly though, a part of her feared rejection. It was silly and only taking giant leaps back into their past, but she was understanding of the fact that her past fears that had halted the intimacy of their relationship had now consumed him in this moment. The last thing he needed was to be smothered, like he did her.
"How do you know?" His hand slipped into hers, quelling her presumption of rejection.
"She told me today at rehearsal." His gaze found hers as she ushered him into the room, their fingers tangled in a knot of gentle consideration.
"I'm sure she'll be fine, Will." She locked the door quietly, shutting out the cold, as his fingers slipped from hers.
He sat on the end of her bed in a daze, knowing all that he did and rejoicing in the understanding. It was negative to think the worst, but he had never doubted such an honest verse that uttered from his best friend's lips.
He shook his head softly as she stood in the middle of the room awkwardly; trying to make sense of all this and wondering what the hell it was she was supposed to do now.
To touch him?
To kiss him?
To make him leave?
She whispered softly, asking him to do the same with the gentle tone of her voice. "I'm going to get you a glass of water."
He whipped his head around, a suggestion plaguing his mind and he allowed it to roll from his tongue. "Let's go to the lake, Em."
The volume he used was average, but it scared her into shock. "Will, no."
"Please, Emma." There it was again, the loudness in the quiet of the night, enough to wake her parents.
She shook her head slowly, defying his only wish as his eyes pleaded with her to share something far greater than they had ever experienced. His eyes brimmed with tears as she left him behind, closing the door slowly behind her as she moved to the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly down the stairs.
She crept at a snail's pace up the staircase, avoiding the steps that she knew would creak and adding greater pressure on certain spots. The water tipped from side to side of the glass. She felt pathetic. Emma had no experience with illness or death and she was awkward when it came to consoling people. And so, as the half full cup weighed as a half empty amount between her palm and fingers, she carried an essence of life to her best friend, because it was all she knew how to give.
"Emma, what on earth are you doing?"
As she reached the top step, there her mother was, a long navy nightgown intimidating the smaller redhead as her mother blended with the night. The older woman stood at her own bedroom door, obviously waiting for her daughter to retreat back to her room.
The words caught in her throat. "I...I don't know." She truly didn't.
"Why is Will in your bedroom?"
Emma swallowed, afraid to be miserable. "He's upset."
Her mother didn't move, and neither did Emma. She wondered if gravity would have been kind enough to send her flying backwards, so that she wouldn't have to deal with her judgemental mother and the concern that was so obviously present. "It's 11pm on a school night."
Emma nodded to the darkness, needing to leave her mother for so many reasons. She needed regret to plague her mother's senses; to have the adult comprehend all that Emma had never been given; all the things that were never said. "He'll go soon, Mom."
Emma's toes brushed against hard wooden floors as she made gentle steps toward safety, toward her bedroom. "You're not being inappropriate with Will, are you?"
And there it began, a web of recognition; what was right and what was wrong. Emma was held captive in the centre as her mother held her there- were it all began. If only she had been told, shown how to love somebody, how to be loved in return.
"No, mother." Sighing in embarrassment and dishonesty, she shaded her humiliation with denial as she moved to her doorframe, gripped the door knob.
"I hear you sometimes with him. And I see the way he looks at you. Don't be a stupid girl, Emma. I raised you to be so much better than that."
Emma's grip on the door knob tightened, as did the rest of her body. She had never wanted so badly to be respected, to be understood. And there was a boy on the other side of the door who could give her that and she could return such perfect love.
It was like a melody, a line that could be read so perfectly in a play. The words bounced from one actor to another, wise and innocent, sweet and fierce.
"I think he loves me."
"Don't let him love you, Emma."
Emma cast her gaze away, towards the floor, focusing blindly on her bare toes, frosty against the hard wooden floorboards. Her whisper was insecure and gentle as she defied, "You don't get to tell me who I can love."
When she raised her glare it met her mother's tearful gaze, cold and sympathetic. She looked in pity at her only daughter, regretful of all she had never shared and all that she wanted to. Then the older redhead closed her bedroom door softly behind her, just like that.
Emma stood alone in the hallway, a glass of water in hand, speechless and shocked.
Loneliness was perhaps her deepest regret for her mother and her former self. Though, not now, not with Will waiting for her.
That night, in Emma's arms, he cried- for Mrs Adler, and Emma, and for himself. Mostly for himself.
She whispered, soft and gentle, her breath warm on the shell of his ear. She told him how kind he was. She breathed in his ear how she adored him, as her best friend and so much more. Emma was beautiful in his arms, so warm and fragile as she swept his tears away with her thumbs. She told him of her dream the night before; that he kissed her by the lake for the first time in her life, and she smiled against his cheek as she admitted that she preferred the reality of their first kiss. She whispered of how good it felt to have his thumbs brush her naked nipples, to have their wet torsos rubbing deliciously together. Her delicious confessions were made in a litany, to remind him that he was loved, so very loved, no matter who he lost.
As his heartbeat slowed against her stomach, his face buried between her breasts, she felt utterly complete and needed.
Sadness would come to haunt them soon enough. Depression, in the coming months, would inspire such artful closeness that no other emotion could provide. And this discovery, of unspeakable sorrow, would turn their worlds into flames of desire.
AN: I am so very sorry that I have not updated for such a long time. Uni work can be exhausting, to say the least. I have had a few reviewers ask if this is ending soon and it is definitely not, be any means. These characters have a long way to go.
I really want to start including Spring Awakening concepts and depth, so if you could pick some in this chapter, I'm really glad.
As always, thank you so much for your reviews. They really mean the world to me. Thoughts?