Full Disclosure: you may hate me after reading this
The swirling motion of liquid hitting the clear glass cup hypnotized the blonde farmer, preventing her from stopping the motion. The concept of time escaped her as she stared at the cold, unfeeling liquid. Time was irrelevant. The liquid constantly coxed her to indulge and down it, and when she reminded herself that she really should not, it goaded her even more, laughing at her when she listened. The odd times the liquid didn't have her attention, she stared at the grains of the counter in front of her. Her face showed no emotion yet her insides felt as if she were being gutted. The brief moment everything seemed to pause around her – that was when every possible feelings slammed her, sending vibrations throughout her body and reminding her of the horror from earlier. She still was unable to understand how she even managed to drag herself to the Inn in the first place, being and feeling numb after that call. The feeling of falling but never landing on solid ground. And to order this kind of drink? It initially scared her when it was placed in front of her, after insisting for it and even the bottle. It surprised her to get that far – surprised her that she even reached for it. What surprised her even more was her growing accustomed to its sinister company and its continual taunts. It was slowly wedging itself in that moment much like a future toxic friend.
She was vaguely aware of her surroundings – Ann and even her brother watching her temporary parallelized self – even though everything felt like a dream. Reality? Was this really reality? Why?
But more importantly, was it preventable?
Claire continued in her timeless state as two concerned people continued with their stares. "Clairey?" His voice. It didn't snap her back to reality. It didn't catch her attention. It passed through her like flour through a sieve.
He tried sitting down beside her and placing his hand on her shoulder, all while studying her for any possible clues. But nothing. He gently grabbed her free hand, hoping that would encourage some sort of response; but, again, nothing. Her body did not tense nor turned to face him, only existed. Andrew knew at that moment that even if he attempted to pull her away from the counter, nothing would come out of it. Even the idea of slapping the nefarious liquid out of her hands was out of the question, as much as it pained him to not do so. Whatever world and state that had possessed her held her tightly, like a death grip. It would have to take another strategy to get through to her. He sighed defeatedly as he retreated back to Ann.
"Will she be alright, Andrew?"
"I don't... I don't know. I've never seen her like this. This is... I... I don't know what to do..."
The ginger rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him from his downhearted state. "All that anyone can do is be there when she needs us, if she does; and I'm sure she will at some point."
"I know you are right on that, Ann. But for her to even consider that liquid." The temptation to snatch the glass from his sister grew. Andrew took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, "Both of us promised to ourselves and each other at a very young age that we would never touch any substance our parents would. That we would never allow either of us to even to entertain the idea of it." He glanced at his sister, noticing the death grip she had on the glass. "Something is very, very wrong, Ann. And I don't know what is worse: not knowing what has gotten her in this state or seeing her like this. I'm at a loss, and I feel so helpless..."
Ann wrapped her arms around the side of him, giving him a light squeeze. He somewhat relaxed his tense body as he rested his hand on her shoulder. Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath. But as he opened them again and focused again on his sister, he saw the unthinkable. "Claire!" he exclaimed pulling away from Ann. He stared at the now empty glass Claire rested on the counter. Andrew's temper started to rise within him; he wanted to yell at the harbinger of this liquid, even if it had been Ann's father. He clenched his fists but soon stopped as his sister turned to face him, sitting and still with a defeated look. His face softened. Even if he wanted to blame Doug, he couldn't. Claire had always been stubborn; whatever she had said or done to get what she wanted at the time, even in her state, must had been pretty convincing. Or scary. Either way, his temper slowly subsided as he and his sister continued to look at each other, with him still being at a loss. His only concern was her as an unknown amount of time passed.
A large crashing noise snapped him back to the present. "Great," Ann sighed. "Karen over did it yet again." Andrew looked towards the commotion, seeing Karen drunkenly wagging her finger at Duke. Both persons looked as if any one of them could fall from taking one step.
While that continued to unfold with the addition of Ann, Claire picked that specific time to stand up from her stool. Andrew's attention turned quickly back to his sister. As she stumbled, he slung her arm around his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist in the attempt to stabilize her. "Dammit, sis. Why?"
"Gonna have to be more specific..." the blonde managed to say, her speech slowly slurring.
"And she speaks."
Before he had the chance to further the conversation, he caught sight of Gray coming closer. The blacksmith went from his typical stoic look to a concerned one, especially noticing the red veins in the blonde's eyes peeking through. "What happened with her? Is she okay?"
"Honestly? I don't know. She hasn't spoken much."
"I'm fiiiine," Claire spoke again, the alcohol hitting her more. She pulled away from her brother, but he managed to at least grip her arm to keep her from falling on her face.
"Geez, Claire. How much did you drink?"
Claire stared at Gray as if she were trying to mentally communicate with him, concentrating as hard as she could.
"Would you believe me if I said she only had one?"
"One? But I thought the two of you-"
"Yeah, well, I don't know what has gotten into her. And she picked the strongest drink Doug carries."
"Damn. But one shouldn't hit like that."
"I'll take your word on it. I'm on my way out to take her home."
"No!" the blonde whined as she tried escaping her brothers hold on her arm, "I can myself!"
"Only if you tell me what is going on with you."
The blonde grew silent as she stared straight ahead, focusing on the floor.
Another loud noise grabbed Andrew's attention yet again, grabbing Gray's as well. "Andrew, I need your help!" both men heard Ann declare.
Andrew cursed under his breath.
"I can't deal with both Karen and Duke by myself, you know."
This was not the first time Andrew had to lend a hand when it came to Karen and Duke. The two had drinking contests often. And often they ended with both of them beyond hammered to the point where neither of them were able to travel back home without assistance. In times past, Manna would drag her drunk husband home; but since Andrew moved to Mineral Town, he had decided to take over that role quite seamlessly.
Andrew sighed to himself, not knowing what he would do with his sister. She needed to go home and the quicker, the better; but as he glanced over at the passed out Duke and Ann struggling with Karen, he knew that he had to first help out Ann with the situation and get Duke home. His sister's state, though, kept coming to the forefront of his thinking. As if his mind was read, Gray spoke up, "Andrew, I can take her home. Duke's out completely cold by the looks of it."
Andrew sighed again. A sense of unsurety swept over him.
"You need the help. Let me help. I can handle a drunk Claire."
"I am not drunk," the farmer hiccuped as she pointed a finger at the blacksmith, snapping her attention back to the two men. She managed to rip away herself from her brother's now loosen grip of her and proceeded to take a step forward. As she did, she stumbled. However, the strong hands of the blacksmith prevented her from falling face first onto the floor.
"Sure you're not," Gray mumbled to Claire.
Andrew took another deep breath as he chastised himself for not noticing his sister's successful escape from his grip. "Okay," he managed to say, "Get her home safe. It's probably best that my sister and I have a conversation tomorrow anyways. Hopefully it will be productive," he mumbled the latter to himself.
Gray nodded in acknowledgement then assisted Claire to the coat rack near the exit of the Inn, much to her muttering protests mixed in with some rambling nonsense. He helped her with her coat and scarf, earning hard-to-decipher stares. One thing that was sure for him though, something was extremely off with her. She acted as if a part of her died. And judging by Andrew's reactions he had observed, he knew it affected Andrew more than the man revealed. It was something he never saw from her let alone her brother.
As the two of them walked in silence, their footprints in the snow became the only loud noise heard. Claire then abruptly stopped, resulting in the halt of Gray's walking as well. The blonde crossed her arms over her chest, a glimmer of determination appearing on her face. "I can handle the rest of the way," she gave a small hiccup at the end.
"Claire."
"Gray."
"Fine. Go ahead yourself without any problems? Then so be it."
He crossed his arms as he watched her straighten herself. Ignoring his stance, she quickly took many steps forward but soon veered off from a straight line. She tumbled to the side of the town's walkway, face planting onto the snow. She groaned as she refused to move. The blacksmith causally walked up to the downed farmer. "Learned anything?"
"You're an ass, but that isn't a revelation," Claire mumbled into the snow. She rolled over and rubbed one of her eyes with one of her hands. "And because of that, this is where I'll stay. Perhaps even die." She stretched out one of her arms on the ground.
"Aren't you being a bit dramatic there?"
"Nope. Your fault," the blonde stuck out her tongue as she rubbed her other eye.
The blacksmith rolled his eyes. "Claire, now's not the time for your games. Get up, and let's go."
Claire stared at him, trying her best to get him to combust despite the impossibilities. It was certainly worth a shot, and her state further convinced her. Gray unfortunately remained unchanged, despite the arrival of annoyance on his face. She groaned then released a "fine" from her lips. She absentmindedly felt around for the nearby wooden fence and, as soon as she grabbed hold on some part of it, tried pulling herself to a standing position. She then saw her chaperone reach out his hand to help her. "Don't freaking touch me," she snapped as she continued to struggle to stand.
Gray huffed. "Claire, you're making this more difficult than it needs to be."
Claire narrowed her eyes in defiance as she finally stood straight.
"Are you done?"
"So done. I'm not going anywhere with you," Claire declared after a little pause, furthering her defiance. She placed her one hand still on the fence for a bit of support.
"I won't hesitate to carry you, blondie. I'm very done with this."
"You would never, even if dared to," the blonde scoffed.
"Try me, Claire."
"Fine. I freaking dare you!"
Just as soon as finished uttering those words, Gray pick her up and rested her on his shoulders like one of his sacks he typically carries. Yet with all her talk Claire offered no resistance, as if she had any hope in doing so. On some level, she had walked into that. He adjusted his strong arms around her legs and continued their trek to her farm. She sighed, blowing her bangs away from her face.
They arrived at her farm unexpectedly quickly, at least from Claire's point of view. Gray opened the door to her house and slowly slipped her off his shoulder, making sure she would not immediately fall flat on her face. "You are a lightweight," he broke the silence.
She ignored him as she broke away. As if with some urgency, she tore off her scarf and coat, throwing them to the sides not caring where they landed. She stumbled towards the couch in front of them and eventually sat down against the back of the couch.
"In more ways than one, it seems."
She glanced at him from the position of the floor, mumbled something incoherent, and concentrated her focus on the wall across from her.
Gray sighed as he stepped more into her house, closing the door behind him. That exact look on the farmer's face was the same one he had seen when he approached her and her brother in the Inn. And for some reason it pierced his heart more than the first time. Seeing the farmer like this – he didn't like it and wanted to alleviate whatever was on her mind, even if he was unsure how let alone where to begin. He approached and sat down beside her while she still stared at the wall, avoiding his stare.
"Claire," he started.
Unlike her brother's voice earlier, this one had an effect, sending a slight flip in her stomach. Though that might had been the alcohol coursing through her. She was going to stick with that rationale.
"What is wrong?" he cautiously asked as he retracted one of his legs closer to him, still looking at her.
Again, she avoided his stare.
"You realize that there are people who are very concerned about you," he stated, glancing at her hand resting beside him. He took it and gave it a light squeeze which sent a tingling sensation up her arm.
She glanced at their hands connected, her face feeling and looking more flushed than it currently was.
"I am concerned," he slowly and nearly whispered.
She then looked more at him, their eyes soon finding each other. The pain on his face startled her. There was no need for him to be upset. He was not going through what she was. Yet here he was, bothered by her state. So she did what she thought was a brilliant idea – to perhaps take that hurt from him or maybe just forget. If only she had not consumed any of that drink, her thinking might have been a bit less cliched. Just a bit.
Claire grabbed a hold on Gray's jacket with her available hand, pulling him towards her and propelling her towards him. Her action startled him. Startling him even more, she landed her lips on his then latched onto them. A surge passed through the two of them. Even in her state, she knew the feeling was a right one. And she had no desire in stopping it as she pulled him closer despite the fact they were already pretty close. As much as the blacksmith was not complaining, he recognized he had to put a stop it. And soon. Alcohol or no alcohol – he knew she was not thinking clearly in that moment. He pulled away from her, earning a rather hard-to-decipher look. "Not like this," he said hoarsely, his breath a bit short. His face was extremely red as his eyes peering from under his hat stayed on her.
She stared back at him as if she were burrowing a hole within him, again her face not revealing much. "You-" she abruptly cut herself off as she lightly covered her mouth with the slight back of her hand. Something was travelling up her esophagus and quickly. She soon scrambled off the floor, running to her bathroom. She just hoped she would make it in time.
Gray went after her, finding her gripping the toilet seat with her head hung over it. He knew the scene he saw all too well. He knelt down beside her on both his knees and pulled her hair away from her face as she continued to dispose the contents of her stomach. "Do you want to talk about it?" he meekly asked, rubbing circles on her back.
"Not particularly," Claire rasped. She cleared her throat while she pulled down the handle of the toilet.
"Okay."
And he left it at that for the moment. He then looked around searching for a specific item. When his eye caught a glimpse of it, he slowly and carefully released his hold on her hair so that it wouldn't tumble down in front of the blonde. He grabbed it from the nearby sink and quickly returned. He then ran his hands through her blonde hair again, but this time he sectioned out the top part. Then he began to weave it, working his way down. She had no idea what he was doing, even though it felt familiar. There was only one thought currently on her mind, and that was keeping herself from throwing up again – that and cursing the day she was born. Once the blacksmith finished, she gingerly reached behind her at her hair and felt the woven masterpiece. "I figured it would be easier to keep your hair away from your face in case you have to, you know, again."
That did it. Why is he being this perfect? she thought to herself as her emotions gradually started to overtake her. Between this and what she had heard earlier – tears started welling up in her eyes and showed no signs in stopping. She quickly turned around, still on her knees and puzzling the blacksmith, and threw her arms around his neck. Both the action and her momentum nearly knocked him backwards. He lightly wrapped his arms around her waist as her sobs became louder. It was as if everything in her mind wanted to crush her.
"I didn't think my hair styling would get this kind of reaction," Gray commented off-the-cuff.
Her grip around his neck tightened as her crying became more intense.
"And you not crying about that." He tightened his grip around his waist, bringing her closer to him. His one hand travelled up to her upper back while the other moved to her lower back. He lightly rubbed her back then gave her tight squeeze. He had no clue what was running in her head for her to throw her arms around him. But if she was going to look for comfort in him? He was going to be there in whatever capacity she wanted.
"Just why?" the farmer finally blubbered out. She slightly adjusted her tight grip around him.
"It's okay," the blacksmith tried to reassure her, rubbing his thumbs on her back. Of what, he knew not.
By now the two of them were kneeling on the cold hard bathroom floor longer than anticipated, and Gray's legs and knees were starting to feel the effects. Never losing his hold around the blonde, Gray pushed himself backwards and up against the nearby bathroom wall. Automatically he moved the blonde onto his lap, his legs outstretched on the floor. She clung onto him more, burying her head into his neck and below his jawline. His one arm supported her by her waist while his other one was free. He took his free hand and rested it on her arm closest to it, giving her a squeeze. At that moment, they both took deep breaths.
It didn't take much for the blonde to soon drift off to sleep. The warmth from the blacksmith as well as his hold – it was comfortable enough for anyone to be lulled. Once he realized she was, he swept some stray blonde hairs of hers from her face with his free hand which lingered on her a bit. He took in her peaceful look displayed on her sleeping face and determined to himself that he would do his best to stave off anything, anything that wanted to come near her to do her harm. That was his promise to her. He took one of her hands resting on his chest and gave it a small kiss, as if to seal that promise.
He then carefully arose from the floor, holding Claire bridal style. She stirred a little in her sleep but, much to Gray's relief, she did not wake. Once he made sure she was comfortable in her own bed, he slunk out of her bedroom. His worry for her was still there. And even though he had helped her calm down a bit, he still was very much in the dark. He just hoped she would be willing to confide in him. And soon for the sake of his own sanity.
Although he left her in a peaceful state, sleep did not come for him when he collapsed onto his bed at the Inn. His mind kept circling to the farmer. He tried guilting himself for being an ass to both Andrew and Cliff when he had arrived in his room, save for the required assurance Andrew needed to hear concerning his sister getting home safely. But that did not help him either. Her state kept haunting him. He continued to toss and turn, trying to figure out what possibly made the farmer so distraught. He first thought that maybe he did something; but that didn't make any sense since she felt at ease with him, despite her stubborn outbursts throughout the night. He knew it was nothing concerning her farm; everything was in tip-top shape, and no animals that he knew of had died. Even if they did, he did not think that would be enough to send her into death's glare. What had her gotten her this distraught? That was the million dollar question. And did it have to do with anything with the North? But if that were the case, surely should would have at least said something him.
Hours flew by while his thoughts continued to be widely active. There was clearly no chance in receiving any decent amount of sleep. He then glanced at the clock in an irritated way. The time was earlier than six in the morning, five to be more exact, which was perfect since he had wanted to check on Claire before the town awakened. But as he arrived onto her farm, one of her dogs, Akira, immediately dashed toward him. He could tell something was off, but he still attempted to knock on the farmer's door. The Australian Shepherd tugged at one of his pants leg in the direction of the farm's exit, urging him to follow her with her motion and barks. He blinked but went with it. Once she led him to the destination – the beach – she sprinted full speed to the pier, barking continuously. She abruptly stopped, allowing the blacksmith to catch up with her, then jogged to the furthest end of the pier and back to him a few times, again barking. He observed the seemingly possessed dog with a curious yet confused look. Then it hit him. "Akira," he addressed her.
She stopped and perked her ears, being at the far end of the pier. He motioned for her to come which she did. He crouched down to her level. "I'll find her and bring her back," he said as he patted her. "That means you're in charge. Look after Claire's farm and find someone to feed you guys and the livestock. Your owner's brother is a good start."
Akira barked in acknowledgement of the instructions given. She quickly licked Gray in the face, nearly sending him toppling backwards, then ran back into town with her mission. Giving a small chuckle, the blacksmith stood up shaking his head. "That dog."
He glanced out into the ocean, feeling the bitter cold on his face. The sun was no where to be seen, but the feelings of a new day became apparent. That and listening to the waves lightly crashing on the sand brought a still calmness to the surroundings as well as to him. In some way it brought some clarity to him. He soon banged on Zack's door nearby with one goal on his mind. Gray assumed he was not the only one to disturb the local courier, and the very exhausted look on Zack's face certainly proved that. But he didn't particularly cared. He had a mission, and no one was going to get in that way.
I know. I know.
Gotta work out some logistics, but next chappy I'm going to try to be quicker... well, at least compared to this update.
