Concrete tumbled over alleyways in attempts to stay even and still, turning his vertigo around itself. Not that it was too unusual, Toriel's driving was slipshod at the best of times, but today he felt like he might vomit.
‟Come on, Kris, we're gonna be fiiiine~~!"
‟That's not why I'm worried." - Yes, the impending meeting was stressing him out, but that wouldn't matter if they crashed before they got there. He hugged his folder tight.
‟Oh, do not worry Kris! Carol may look scary, but she is not as coldas she seems!"
After laughing at her pun like old ladies do, Toriel went back to humming a song that sounded something like Christmas and wedding bells. Which took a sudden dark tone.
‟Besides, if any tramps tried to put a hand on my sons,I would wish to have a talk with them too.
But! I do not need to worry myself any longer!" - His mom said, beaming pure pride.
As Asriel craned his head to look at mama goat, Kris stared into the window harder. Noelle hadn't answered any texts the past week, so he was already peeved and concern had welled up. Now, he had to go and take an interview for the position of boyfriend, because some word or other had spread to her mother.
There was a quaint misunderstanding on his interviewer's part, namely that he and her daughter were currently dating. Of course, in his heart of hearts, he'd have preferred to correct it… but, that would probably disqualify him from the position, and he didn't want to bomb his first ever hearing.
If everything worked out, nobody would know… That was a pretty weighty if though, at that moment He was just hoping he'd get there with all his limbs attached.
‟What is with the long face, Kris? Is this interrupting you and your girlfriend's 'private time'?" - He hadn't heard her be this happy in good years.
‟And just to think, my two little men started dating the Holiday sisters and I had no idea! If it was not Carol who said it, I would have thought I was being pranked!
Oh, just imagining the family reunions is making me all excited! You four, lined up together for pictures… Just when did you two grow up so fast? I almost want to pinch your cheeks!"
‟You can pinch mine, mom~!"
‟…Please keep your eyes on the road, mom."
‟Oh, alright, I will! This old lady just doesn't know what to do with herself sometimes…"
‟…And, you two remember not to get too crazy before ma—"
‟We get it, mom."
‟M-Mhm!"
X_X_X
Her light brown eyes were fixed on his resume, and the rest of her body as still as ice. She probably hadn't seen a worse CV in her entire life… and for good reason. It was made the day before by him and his brother, both barely having any idea what they were doing.
He was trying his best to keep still and dignified. Which wasn't easy when it felt like his blood was about to freeze. The mayor's office wasn't just as cold as outside. It was worse. He could hear the Air Conditioning working. On full blast. In January.
The woman was insane, rattledhis brain as another sniffle escaped him, you're overreacting, he rattled back. His brother sitting right next to him wasn't faring much better, even with all that fur and the snug sweater vest. The flimsy chairs weren't helping keep any body-warmth in.
‟… You plan on going into literature?" - One of her eyebrows quirked as she moved her eyes at him and nothing else.
‟I've found a passion in it."
She didn't respond, just resumed her statuesque stare at the page. This wasn't the polite mom next door they were accustomed to. This was the mayor of Hometown, and Carol Holiday had filled those shoes for near half her life. Proper, efficient procedure… and nothing extra. If they hadn't known, they'd think she was soulless. The red suit and candy-cane pen adorned with a small wraith didn't do much to assuage the image, cute as they were. It was almost like the cold was coming out of her and spreading into every corner of the cramped office. Even the photos on the walls were frozen still. Even the sweat on his back was frozen.
‟Do you know the implications of this university of choice?" - She said, as if she knew everything about it even though it was hundreds of miles away.
‟Uh, yeah, I know…" - He took a long-awaited breath.
‟My grades have been going up, so I think my GPA won't be too bad by the end of the year, and if I get a good score on the SAT then I could… no, I should be able to get admission.
And, as for residence, it's not that far away from where Noelle wants to study, so maybe I- we can rent out an apartment in between, I think— I… don't know how I'll make rent yet, but, I'll figure something out." - He felt his breathing get shallow as he finished explaining. Horrible dread and pride came out of him with that speech. Somewhere between impostor syndrome and an actor's pride and a teen whose possibilities in life just crumbled in one straight swoop.
‟I'm impressed, Kris." - Is all that came out of her mouth as the folder closed sharply and slid back to him. He felt crisp cuffs braid his wrists.
‟Now that I've reviewed both of your credentials, I will start asking you some questions. Please answer truthfully and concisely."
She cleared her throat in almost a whisper, and took out a green-white notebook, ‟We will begin now."
‟How many sexual partners have you had?"
Oh, she really was insane.
‟… None yet."
She made a straight line in her notes, and whether that meant 0 or was a minus or it was the fifth time she heard that answer, he didn't know.
Ralsei, twiddling his thumbs, seemed embarrassed by the question of a different reason, ‟Well… it's a difficult question… uhm, a, feeew monsters? I think…"
‟You think?" - She reiterated.
‟Yeaah, well, I don't always remember everything, so I can't reeeeaaally say…"
‟If you were to give an estimate?"
‟Uhh, let's say aboooooout… a dozen or so monsters? To be generooous~~? Y-yeah, that's a good number."
There was a slight, distant smirk on her face at hearing him squirm, like she remembered something only she understood. She made a gesture that could or could not have been a question mark.
‟How did your relationship start?"
‟Hey mo- C-Carol, shouldn't this have been the first question?" - Asriel sheepishly asked.
‟I would prefer you refer to me as 'Mrs. Holiday'. And I wrote these questions as they came to mind, they are not ordered."
‟A-All riiight?" - His brother cast him a curious glance before continuing.
‟Me and Dess, I mean, December. We met at a party and… we got to make… up for lost time. And after that she asked me to be her boyfriend… that's uhh, that's it—"
‟She asked you out?"
‟Y-yeah, I was really surprised too. I didn't… expect she would…"
Seemingly satisfied, she turned over to the more awkward brother.
‟Well… I invited her on a date. And after that, I asked her out… And she, agreed." - He felt the pictures of small Noelle smiling with her hair in braids look at him like he was the scum of the earth.
‟Could you elaborate on the date?" - With her thin eyebrows lifting off her face under her dirty blonde hair.
‟We went skating, and got some food… and then we walked home."
He felt the smallest bounce and shake of her head as she wrote what he said into her notebook. And he might've just been imagining it but he swore she silently mouthed 'skating' while writing it. like she thought it was funny.
‟Where do you see yourself in five years?"
‟No idea."
‟No ideeea~."
Scratch x2.
‟Do you consider yourself a team player?"
‟What does that have to do with anything?"
‟Just answer the question, Kris."
…
And the questions continued, even as morning turned to afternoon. The torrential, belligerent barrage of a questionnaire that took every subject and went down all avenues, never seemed to end. Plain unrelated 'Are you a risk taker', and 'What are your annoying habits'. Constant hard to answer ones like 'What do you look for in a romantic partner' or 'What do you consider the basis of a healthy relationship'. Waaayy too personal ones like 'How do you feel most loved' and 'What do you consider cheating'. Brutally practical questions like 'Do you have any ongoing illnesses or allergies' or 'How do you feel about adopting'. Functional asks like 'What do you know about hornicure' and 'How much money can you justify spending on Christmas decorations'…
And on and on and on… Then, they just got weird. Well, weirder.
'How do you feel about successful women' , 'What is your relationship with your mother' , 'What keeps you awake at night' (?), 'Tell me five uninteresting things about yourself', 'Describe your dream house', and 'What is your opinion on stuffed animals', just to name a few. A few.
Of course, Carol was as serious as a corpse asking them, even the ones about favorite sweets or deer smell. So they had to be unfazed in return. By the end he felt like a wind-up doll repeating the same two motions of raising and lowering his head, if not for frostbite he'd have long fallen out of that chair.
‟Describe a gift you'd buy for your mother-in-law for Christmas." - She looked up at them, looking no more bothered than at the crack of dawn.
‟Suit jacket."
‟Pen Case."
‟You are on a long trip with your significant other in summer. The song 'All I Want For Christmas is You' starts playing from the radio. What is your reaction?"
‟Oh! I love that song~~!"
‟I'm used to it."
‟Last question. How much do you love your significant other?"
‟More than the whooooooooooole world~!" - Asriel said, stretching his arms out like to quantify the volume.
‟Too much to put into words." - Kris said, laying back on his chair like to quantify the unearthliness.
‟… Alright. Those were all the questions."
A collective, strained groan passed through silently.
‟… Did we pass~?"
‟Mhm." - She said, like it was an afterthought, or a bygone conclusion.
‟If my daughter chose you, it would be hard for me to deny her autonomy, especially at the ages they are. Anything short of incriminating yourselves as inheritance hijackers out to embezzle the Holiday estate, or conspiring with sans, would have earned you a pass."
Asriel raised his hands up in the air, making a feeble attempt at a celebration. Kris sunk even deeper into his chair.
If my daughter chose you.
‟Wait… then did you neeeeed to be so thorough?"
‟It was for… personal reasons. Unlike what some monsters may say, I do care about my daughters."
They heard the sounds of drawers opening, ‟Now, I have a favor to ask you two."
‟Hm? What is it?" - Kris asked, head peeking off the recliner.
‟Well, putting it curtly: You can see that I enjoy decorating my office with various pictures, right?"
And yes, they could see about twenty on the walls and desks. Enough that it was bordering on too much. Some of them he recognized, like her and Rudy's wedding photo, and most he didn't. Primarily consisting of Dess and her sister growing from foals to schoolgirls.
He garnered a twisted pride when he noticed that that picture wasn't among them. Their little secret, it could stay hidden.
‟But lately, one of my daughters has gotten very camera-shy. And the other, not too surprisingly, doesn't send me much.
So, I would be very grateful if you could take some commemorative photos of them for me. Though, this is not a request per-se; It is simply a personal favor… from your possible mother-in-law.
…I am sure we know how to contact each other. But just to keep in touch in the future,"
And with one hand, she slid two business cards along the glossy table. They both took one and looked at it like cavemen appreciating sharp rocks.
‟Here. For if you ever need to send mail… Though I've heard you can even send pictures by phone these days." - She declared with the same still expression as she asked them to sit down. Which he started to find odd.
‟… The interview's over, Carol. You can… stop acting so formal."
‟Oh?
Pfahah." - She chuckled sensibly, getting her short hair back behind her ear. Which is a gesture that definitely didn't make her look much prettier than he thought.
‟I'm sorry, Kris. When you sit in the same room for twenty years, you start to do some things without even realizing." - Oh… yeah, she was forty. And the mother of his crush. He swiftly smothered the thoughts.
‟Our little interview has been a pleasure. And I did enjoy hearing you answer so honestly to some of these. I'll stop wasting your winter break and let you go now.
Have a wondrous day, you two~."
The door slammed behind them as Kris felt the eighth wave of sweat to grace him that day. It was hot in the city hall lobby, where it wasn't twenty degrees, and his body didn't have to spend half its energy staying alive.
‟That really was something, eh Kris~?"
‟Yeah, you're telling me. Jeez.
I hope to never see an office again."
Barely thinking, he kept inspecting the business card in his hand. And he noticed a small writing on the back. In red, neat letters, all bunched up uniformly.
Good luck on your studies!
That gave him a chuckle. It really was the polite mom next door under that ice.
‟Aww~, fiddlesticks…" - Asriel did much the same thing.
‟What is it?"
‟Lookie here…"
It was pushed to his face.
Try to get Dess off those cigars! (It's for her own good.)
He grimaced along with his brother. Seems, like always, Asriel had his own battles to fight.
They told Toriel not to wait for them, still the first thing they saw walking out was her waving excitedly.
X_X_X
It was getting a smidge hopeless, staring down this rusted colossus that would again not laud even a response. Droning Christmas tones kept haunting the sky…
One week? Fine, she obviously needed space. Two weeks? He sent a few texts, asked how she was. No response. Three weeks? He was concerned. He called once, went to voicemail. It was the Second time trying the doorbell, and he was confident the conclusion wouldn't differ from the first.
Neither Catti nor Susie were around much. Wrapped up in their families, to their behest, and his. Dess was going out daily, for in her words she'd ‟rather be anywhere else but that house". So he could hazard a guess the smaller deer wasn't doing much. This meant she was either currently dying, dead, or… ignoring him.
But his thoughts were left trailing, as the christmassy melody shattered into a high pitch tone as it hadn't done before. It was like reality unwrapped for a moment before he realized he was standing.
‟… Kris, I'm busy right now." - He heard her voice the first time in weeks, through a grainy filter and palpable frustration.
‟You can speak through that thing? …Wait, can you hear me?" - He held his voice to the microphone-speaker?.
‟Sigh… yes. Yes, I can hear you, the intercom works. I just… don't like using it." - He could tell she was a bit absent minded through her speech.
‟Also, how'd you know it was me?"
‟Because the postmonster calls first."
‟You get no other visitors?"
‟Why would we?" - He could only shrug, which probably didn't go through.
‟Do you actually need something, or are you just calling to bother me?"
‟Bother you? I'm here because I'm worried."
The muddled silence urged him to continue.
‟No one's heard a peep from you in two weeks. Winter break's about to end and I came to check up… Maybe you had deer flu."
‟…Deer flu?" - She asked with a bemused tone. He didn't think it'd work either.
‟Well…" he ripped his ailing heart out, ‟I'd also prefer a straight rejection over being strung along like this."
‟Rejection?" - Through the grain, he hoped he heard her sad at the idea.
‟Kris, I'm not… I just… I need a bit more time…"
‟How much do you need? I'm free all day." - He hoped that sounded more like a joke and less like how he actually felt.
‟Not like that, you dolt. Besides, the…" - She stopped herself and his mind darted. The what? The, the, the…
‟The oven's ready? Are you cooking something?"
‟… Close, the cookie dough's thawed out."
‟Wait, you're making cookies?… Can I help?"
‟They're not… for you, Kris. You can't eat them." - She buzzed through, almost condescendingly.
‟I don't care about the cookies. I just want to see you for a bit."
Then the line blared silently. He wished he was there and could see what was going on with her. Read what was on her mouth and guess at her thoughts. Even hearing the cute murmurs that he was sure the line wasn't picking up.
He missed her. The ticking away quiet didn't help. The wind picked up andit might have been another day where he dressed up for the mirror to look at.
And the gate clunked once and stood unlocked, one panel ajar just so that he could squeeze through. He looked around twice to check if he was imagining it, and popped through.
Without snow to obscure everything, he got two full views at the ground and thicket. Each competing for bleakest sight of the day. The covering white wasn't coming back, but still no flowers or green willed and dared to come out. Disheartened by the dejecting cold, he thought. Not much blooms in disquiet like this.
He crunched on something so brittle and brown it might have been anything.
When he passed over that hill, the door was open and a warm familiar tinge of Capital-C Christmas was standing in it.
His first instinct was to hug and hold her tight and kiss her. Instead he acted like a well-adjusted member of society, and looked her up and down when she didn't notice. Noelle was what could be called disheveled… if compared to her normal appearance. If this would have been his first time seeing this girl, he'd have thought she was very well-kempt and conscientious, and he'd fall in love with her. But he's seen her enough to see her skirt and sweater vest were more haphazardly thrown on than her pedigree would decree. Even that somehow made him happy, like he got to see her less perfectly cut-out than normal.
‟Hi Noelle!"
‟… Hi, Kris."
And, as he expected, she didn't make eye contact. Like a child on time-out. But one that just said a naughty joke that the disciplinary teach didn't hear, and was wearing self-satisfied smile on her face. A smile that quickly turned upside down.
‟We're not doing anything like that today, alright?"
That wasn't one of her commands like she was imitating her mom, he saw the lack of mirth in her voice.
‟Sure."
X_X_X
Making cookies alone with the girl of one's dreams would normally be a delectable affair, but those kicks quickly died when he remembered just who that girl was. His cervid friend made this exact recipe enough to start an empire on the dough she's baked and deforest continents' worth of peppermint, and as much as he try, she wasn't in a cheerful mood. So twenty minutes went and twenty minutes passed.
‟Now, just wait for them to cool." - She said, as her gloved hands placed a second toasted tray down the leisurely large cooking table.
‟How long's that gonna take?"
‟Five minutes… Actually ten, since I'll need to carry them."
‟If only you could take your ice powers up here. We'd already be done."
‟… If those powers worked anything like the ones in the Dark World, the cookies would become solid cubes of ice."
‟Hey, peppermint Cookie Ice doesn't seem that bad. You're two thirds of the way to an ice cream sandwich."
‟Trust me, dad tried it once and… it didn't go well."
‟Don't knock it 'till—" - He was stopped.
Unwittingly, he'd tried to take a sideways step toward her. A red and white oven mitt blocked him pointedly. He looked to its owner but she was looking down again. As much as he wanted to protest, he knew he had to change the topic.
‟… Who are these cookies for anyway? You plan on hoarding 'em all?"
‟No, Kris. These aren't for me." - She said shortly as her eyes poured over them.
‟I made them to force me to do something I've been putting off for too long."
‟…And that is?"
Another long silence. He'd already had enough of those for the year. She took a long breath, mixed with a tired groan, and He could feel her heave under a burden he could only guess at. Then her eyes crackled with phosphorous embers.
‟These are for… someone else. I'm going to talk to them today."
Wires crossed and it clicked. That's what it was. That's what they were. From top to bottom, his body wound up and started burning. Whatever happened, he was ready.
All but his heart, who shrunk two sizes, leaving him cold in his fire. Not like he could change much either way.
‟… What're you going to talk about?"
‟… I, I can't tell you."
Momentum coursed through him. His hairs stood on ends and his pupils dilated. His brain worked tirelessly to come up with anything but it instead hit a nasty snag that he had no choice but to stumble over.
‟Should I… leave, then?"
She was taken aback a second, mouth hanging and brow furred. He stared at her as she was thinking how to nicely tell him to go the silence he realized he could make things a little easier for her and give a small apology for all the stuff he'd put the poor girl through.
‟Alright then, I had fun enough. I'll see you later then."
He then passed over her like they were strangers and was to go into the hallway when his hand was firmly gripped and held in place. So strong that he was ready to bet his bottom dollar he had forgotten his phone.
But her face was still in serious thought, and not looking at, or away from him. She was looking at nothing in the room, eyes lazily placed around the kitchen. He stood and stared at her to get any kind of clue. She nodded to herself calmly and looked up with a placid smile.
‟No, Kris… you , you can stay. I—I don't know when I'll come back… so, you'd probably be wasting your time, but if you really want to, you could wait. Here.
… Unless you have anything better to do." - She asked, almost like she didn't want him to say yes.
‟Oh, no, I can wait! All day! Overnight too!"
‟P-Pfahah! I won't be gone thatlong!
…But, thanks." - For the first time in what felt like… actually, he had no idea. For the first time in forever he saw her relieved. A sweet, innocent, simple smile.
‟Alright, Kris. Hopefully I'm back before mom comes home. Don't do anything stupiduntil then, alright?" - How she was acting reminded Him of when his mom let him 'take care of the house' for the first time.
‟I'm not twelve anymore."
‟Yeah… I keep forgetting." - She took a deep exhale. And looked up at him once and the morning stood still.
‟I'll come back later, alright?"
‟Good luck."
‟Mhm. See you."
And he watched little red and green riding hood take her basket of cookies down the forest path. A great, great sense of unease washed over him as he was left alone with his thoughts. So poignant, in fact, they took form on a side window.
‟May I give a second opinion?" - Said the Soul, probably pretending to tidy a bowtie.
‟Shoot."
‟I don't think our chances are looking great."
‟… Why's that?" - He didn't turn to look, eyes fixed on the twisting path of stones.
‟You think a girl goes to meet her crush with cookies in tow to talk?"
‟… Cookies mean a lot of things. Noelle used to give us cookies all the time when we studied together."
‟You forgot those were store bought? She's never made anything for you specifically."
‟… It doesn't prove anything." - He told Himself uselessly, pressure building knots of his stomach.
‟I'm just saying, lover-boy. I'm not that smart though, so you can do your thing and stay the course."
‟… That's not my thing."
‟… I mean, it's not my thing. One of us's doing it."
Well, he had someoneto speak with that wasn't the walls. Might as well have been the walls.
X_X_X_X
Once he used to think of the manor like a dollhouse. But seeing it now… no girl would let her dolls sleep in this. The foyer's heating was broken. The furniture was rearranged to hide the scratches of time. The wallpapers, new and already dusty. The living hall had an old picture of the Holiday family, many years out of date. Their heads angled at nothing. The plants were as plastic as their 'porcelain' pots. The glares of the lights were faintly trailing.
Once he'd been scared of it all, of its uncanny discord and lifeless nature. Lifetimes ago. Now he wished to do some spring cleaning.
He'd done more than enough to entertain himself. Had cycled through the house thrice. Stole some food from the fridge. Watched TV. Thought about having a bath. Didn't. Started studying. Got bored and checked the fridge. Start over. Even had the time to text Catti and thank her for helping him whenever he needed and never asking for anything in return. She said she had a few things he could do to help, all related to her night-time shifts…
He was too scared to check up on his other pink cohort.
Agonizing was the amount of emotions crawling through him like he was a revolving door. He was stressed and tired and bored and wanted it to be over, but every other mania he could name rode in and out like the carousel wheel was going out of business.
Right now he was watching a classicChristmas comedy. Even if the jokes weren't quite to His—
‟This movie sucks Baaaaaallllss Kris! Change the damn channel!"
‟… Where did you even learn to say that? I've never said those words."
‟You think them often enough."
He had no idea where his spectral partner was speaking from. Might as well have been chatting from the neighboring couch pillow from how the words reverberated in his ear.
‟… Fair enough. But there's a reason I never actually say them."
‟'Cause you're a baby."
‟… What's it taking so long?" - Kris said, already tired with the conversation.
It was 6 pm, she had left around 11 am. It had been 7 hours.
It had been 7 hours.
The Soul remarked calmly, ‟You think they'd have stopped fucking already. Not even we have that much stamina."
‟… If you had a body, I'd have strangled you by now."
‟What's with that attitude? You were thinking it, too!"
‟It's not that I wasn't—
I'm trying to notthink about it."
Yes, he had thought about it. Among about one hundred other options for why Noelle wasn't yet home, ranging from perfectly reasonable to wild lurid fantasies and the end of the world as they knew it, and not one helped calm him down.
‟Not like I need to say it to remind you." - And with that, the thought came in his mind. Not of that, thank god, but of changing the channel.
‟Can you Shut—" - He turned his head to his friend next to him and was met with a cold emptiness.
Oh right.
He let his head rest on the red velvet. Took a deep breath and tried to distract himself. Which was crossing from habit to nervous tick… Another pet worry wormed to mind instead. He cursed his life for a moment, but it could make do. He thought about how he should be asking the question, then remembered who he was talking to.
‟Hey, Soul."
‟What's up?"
‟… If we were to separate, would you be alright?"
‟Hm? You asking methis time? How nice of you, champ." - After the reflexive insult, the Soul actually took the time to think about the question.
‟… I mean, you'll probably be fine as you are now. Don't think you'd need my help much, unless you're going in a Dark World. In which case, obviously give me a shout."
‟I was asking about you. Would yoube alright?"
From the apparent silence in his head, the Soul was given pause, and maybe even surprise. In a long time, he heard His words even and calculated, still with their usual laid-back lilt.
‟Well… I do enjoy being with you a lot, I've learned. You've got an interesting enough life. And your brain's pretty good too." - A Cheshire grin was in His throat, and the boy knew exactly what He was hinting at.
‟So, it's not the worst spot you can put a disembodied Soul in… Yeah, sometimes it gets a bit boring. Can't do much of anything, most of the time I just watch… Do wish I had my own body, but I'm thankful I get to at least lend one… If I were alone… I'd get to stretch my legs, 'cept I wouldn't have none. Dunno really. But I think I'd manage."
‟… I'll… keep it in mind. Maybe we'll figure something out."
‟… That have anything to do with your plan after this?" - His Soul simmered down, like He sunk on a couch.
‟After this?"
‟After we… well, after whatever happen—"
Like magic, He stopped. The voice of the Soul, lost its connection. The TV went quiet with it. He heard a thin door crack.
Like an old doll his springs hoisted him up and head turned to face the hushed sound. It was quiet in the house and the muffled echo made its impression through aged wood. A first step, then a second, quaint and unsure. Like she was searching for something. And just like that, with a short chime, there she was. Head poked after horns and his eyes grazed with hers. He was silent, thoughts flying high above the dark stars and far removed from the mellow room. She, more determined than him, stepped over the soft rug to face him close.
‟Kris… You're still here."
Second time she welcomed him that day, with no more eye contact than the first. But this time he understood why. Like seeing a fresh scar, he could gander at what had happened even if he didn't understand the why of it.
‟I said I'd be." - He said, hushed, in a way to reassure her in any way he could. He could tell she wasn't just tired. And she hadn't just cried. She had a sick sort of miserable pity under her crackling emeralds.
He bid her to sit. Patted the couch softly next to him. As a nice friend. She seemed to have walked a long way. It didn't even make a sound as she lowered on it.
Then they watched whatever was on TV. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she was there, and there was no distance between them.
He could tell. It was almost wrong. He shouldn't have. Maybe… normally, he'd never be able to. But, life had a curious way of playing out, and so he could tell.
Lost love.
Embers of sadness and regret and happiness still floating around a sodden empty. It saddened him. As her friend or as her boyfriend or as whatever. He didn't need a title. He'd seen that expression before, flipped staring at him through a mirror. There wasn't any magic word he could say to cure it. He just sat there and hoped his presence helped.
He felt, faintly and softly, a head relax on his shoulder, and two protrusions rest on the back of his head. That absent-minded gesture gave him the courage to put an arm around her back and hold her as gently as he could muster.
He could feel her breathing: long, drawn-out exhales, short, sudden inhales. Her eyes were slightly red, and it was almost like a faint shaking was coming back.
‟… I'm sorry…" - She whispered, words with no clear start or end or purpose. Any number of things she could blame herself for. All of them wrong.
‟Don't be." - He hushed into the crown of her head.
And for a few seconds, all he heard was the TV blaring softly into the background. There was a totter on his sweater and he sensed the tug that accompanied it. Like a sea coming in for the tide, wetness welled up in her eyes. She wanted to break away, his mind chimed. She doesn't want you to see, it clued him in. He didn't want to see her like this either. But he wanted less to leave her alone.
‟Kris… I'm—" - He heard a soft yelp from the yellow ball of happiness to his right, she took out a handkerchief from her skirt. Well-used.
Instead of saying anything, he took a short breath, and leaned to his left. Her head followed until the angle got too steep, where his hand helped her out and let her delicately lay in front of him. Right on a pillow resting on the armrest. All he could see was frazzled streaks of gold. Like a cornfield in downpour. It smelled like chestnut and hollies.
His other hand had wrapped under her and he held her softly. Draped over her like a cover. Without noise, he slipped his feet from under her.
She didn't say anything, and he spoke up to break the growing silence.
‟Say when you want to let go."
What he did next was for his own spreading worries, not hers. It could have done the opposite of help. He knew.
He climbed his head over her ear, and whispered quiet in it. The same three words he'd said that night, in that same, exact tone.
She nodded, he felt her hands move to her face for a second, she said something and he didn't catch.
Before he could stop it, her hooves tottered up the velvet and they were spooning. That was his world for a short time, golden swaying wheat fields, slurred static far away, and quiet.
She never did break into crying. That was how she was. Noelle Holiday, Always a soldier, Always acting tough… Even at her weakest.
And he loved her.
Eventually, she spoke up.
‟Kris…?" she said in a coarse voice.
‟What?"
She took a deep breath, the clock had chimed.
‟… Could you…
hug me tighter?"
He tightened his grip, like he'd never let her go.
He swore he heard it, like a weak sunrise after days of storm.
A silent, frail, thank you.
