C is for Cold

Russell was leaving the bar empty handed this evening. The clock had struck midnight, the spell had worn off...no more magic for poor Cinderussell. He spun on his heels as the door flung shut, ensuring he wasn't alone. Not a chick, but the least he could do on nights like this was spot the poor sap cab fare home.

"Little speed in the step, Tim, haven't got all night."

No reply came from the other man; only a blank stare, devoid of emotion. Then, quite suddenly he turned the opposite direction, walking rapidly down the sidewalk. Away from Russell.

Aghast, Russell watched him go. What compelled him then to follow Timmy down a frosted sidewalk just past midnight on this chilled winter's eve was a wonder indeed, but his feet took him rapidly in this direction until they were walking side by side.

"Funny," Russell said with a laugh. "You, uh...you walked away from me."

"Quite deliberate, I assure you." Ever increasing his pace, Timmy worked to avoid looking upon the man who was working diligently to match his steps. Finally, he'd had enough, halting abruptly, finding Russell's feet stopping in time with his.

"Moving kinda fast there, Tim."

"Do you know what this is, sir? This is me..." Timmy gestured towards himself quite elaborately. "Trying to get away from you!" He flailed now towards Russell with clenched fists.

Russell took a step back. "Whoa! Aggressive..."

The pain that shot through Timmy's brain was enough to drive his still taught fists through Russell's face, but no, no, he could resist. He looked around slowly, finding a nearby bench; and he walked towards it, allowing the aggravation he held throughout each nerve to exit through a leg, kicking old snow off the damned thing. A brush of an arm cleared the rest and he sat, placing a hand to his head, resisting the urge to scream.

This. This was his life.

Russell heaved a sigh as the first signs of fresh snow began to fall, brushing the melting flakes into his hair. He looked to the street, eyes drifting to the string of yellow taxi cabs floating down an endless stretch of night.

Timmy found Russell sitting beside him a moment later; he resisted looking his direction. He resisted moving at all, pathetically, unflinching, ice crystals shining where each new flake landed against the blue of his sweater.

"Kinda late," Russell sighed out. "And you're a little underdressed."

"You gave a woman my coat."

"She looked cold."

Timmy's eye twitched ever so slightly in irritation; Russell couldn't be bothered to notice.

"C'mon, you really wanna sit here all night?"

"You chose to keep me out all night," Timmy replied most defeatedly. "As per usual."

"Ah, c'mon..."

"I sat in the corner all night. As per usual. While you sized up the prey...and they tore you limb from limb, and not the way you'd intended, mind you. As per-"

"Yeah, got it. Listen, we can't do this all night, what do you want from me, an apology?"

Timmy's eyes bore into Russell's. "Why was I here tonight, sir? What grand purpose have I served this evening, any evening, sitting in a corner, watching you defile the good times of random women while I observe your slow decent into lonely seniority...and I sit slowly sucking down my pride and enough alcohol to make me forget where I am?" With this, he turned his eyes away, staring into the distance. Into nothing, leaving Russell alone with the words.

There was a low rumble to the city. Atmospheric, an ever present hum surrounding a lone bench on this chilled winter's night. And yet, a silence now, a new chill, cold and bitter. Timmy had frozen the rest of the noise in time, a moment lost.

For two men prone to avoiding reality, the words had stun both speaker and receiver in their own ways. Russell took to glaring into Timmy with a new intensity...raw and fresh, focusing on the features of his face. A face trying to hold back emotions, ever stoic and strong, but breaking. He was breaking.

Russell saw snowflakes gently fall upon Timmy's cheek as his face turned down; he watched the crystals melt slow against the warmth of his skin, and his eyes clenched tight, as if trying not to cry.

He'd broken him.

"Timmy...hey...hey, Tim, I'm uh...I'm sor-"

"Just go." A statement meant to be strong from a voice that dared shake.

"Can we talk about this?"

Eyes opened, gazing back upon Russell. A connection.

"Go. Home. Russell."

An order.

Russell stood without another word, nodding, taking slow steps towards the street. And Timmy, despite his resistance, watched his every move; he watched him hail the cab. He watched him almost enter the damned thing before turning to face him again in hesitation.

Timmy turned his face down with an agitated sigh...and a shiver, rubbing his arms at the sign of a breeze. Leave already, he implored silently. Just leave, please.

An object fell to Timmy's side. He looked first to the offering upon the bench, then to Russell, already back at cabside, having dashed madly to the door to avoid further conversation. Their eyes met most briefly and Russell flashed the smallest of smiles before disappearing into the cab...into the night.

Timmy's hand fell to his side, atop Russell's jacket. Ridiculous. Utter fool, why would he-

Another breeze, and Timmy rubbed an arm, taking to his feet. He stared for some time at Russell's scrap of clothing upon the bench, sneering at it in a decidedly disgusted manner, forcing such an expression in an attempt to resist the warmth that had already begun inching through him the longer he looked at it; the longer he contemplated the gesture.

He reached towards the thing finally, fingertips embracing the fabric delicately...very...very slowly, inch by inch. And all at once, he grasped the jacket, looking all around him as if caught in the throes of something quite scandalous.

He placed his arms within the thing quickly, very quickly, finding it a bit ill-fitting but fine enough, eyes shifting around to ensure he wasn't being watched...and then, a surprising feeling...he eased. Comfortable, calm...secure.

Warm.

A phone vibrated within a cab, already a fair distance away. The knot in Russell's stomach unfurled upon seeing Timmy's name. This stupid cab was cold. He didn't care.

The text read: Goodnight, sir., which Russell gratefully translated to Apology accepted.