Edward watched from his window for a moment, forlorn eyes watching Kim as she spun in the garden, the soft white snowflakes falling into her still softer golden hair. He stood impossibly still, his watery eyes following her, the only movement he made as the light winter breeze picked up her hair. He missed her.
His metal fingers clicked together, the sound echoing through the room and adding an eerie sort of music to the winter night. She was quiet as she spun, and he felt the sadness inside of him growing. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her, a year ago, a terrible night, which ended his chance with her. All one lonely year ago.
It was about a week ago that she had started to come up to the house, and dance in the snow. Her breath was milky lace spinning in the air as she exhaled. He watched her every time, and she would twirl around the gardens in the snow, but she never came in. She never tried the door, never dared to look at the windows. She only danced peacefully, a bittersweet happiness with her as her fingers traced the dying roses.
Finally the snow began to slow, and Edward watched her face one last time before returning toe the sculpture he was making of her, carving with extreme care her loving eyes, and her delicate hands, even a few, thin strands of her hair, flying around her. He returned to the window, watching as she began to rub her arms, urging some warmth into them before she glanced once more at the house, beginning to step away, on her way back to a warm house.
Raising a scissor-finger to his face, he wiped as gently as he could at a single tear that began to crawl down his face. He didn't bother to jerk his face away as he sliced himself again, only a small cut and he held the hand away from him, watching the tear sliding down the blade. It met with the thin strip of blood, and then a single drop fell, feet and feet and feet until it splattered below him, the smallest red stain in the perfect white snow.
And she stopped.
Kim turned as if to glance at the window, but her eyes only passed over it for less than a second before she looked back to the drop of blood, a little way in front of her. She stared at it, shocked, before she walked to the house, leaning against the door and pressing it open with all of her weight before creeping slowly up the long staircase. "Edward," she called out, softly, as if frightened of a ghost.
When she reached the door to his attic room, she pushed it open gently, entering calmly and looking around the empty room. "Edward," she whispered. He stood in the shadows; almost hoping she wouldn't see him, afraid to say good-bye again. "Edward, I know you're in here," she whispered. Her eyes searched the room for him and saw the glint of metal in the full moon light. "Edward, I can see you."
"Hello Kim," he said softly, the shy tone of his voice still evident.
She ran forward, not waiting for him to fully reveal himself, her dress billowing around her legs and she threw her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. "I miss you Edward," she sounded ready to sob, but she held him tightly. He put his arms around her carefully, not quite touching her for fear of hurting her in the least. She just stayed that way, her arms around him tightly while he almost held her for a few minutes. "You'll get a cold," he murmured softly, his voice never very loud.
"I don't want to go back," she whispered. He did his best to gently stroke her hair, his fingers bent as best he could away from her, trying to comfort her. "It's not the same without you, I…I had to come here. To be near you. Make sure you were here. Why didn't you come out Edward, why?"
He stayed silent, regretting never saying anything, regretting what he knew he had to do. She would get sick here, someone would come after her, and everything would go wrong. Seeming to realize herself, she let go of him a little bit, loosening her grip around his waist to look up at his face. "I love you," he promised her.
She nodded, looking down a minute. "I can't come back again," she muttered, and they both knew it was true. He'd be killed if she did, and it would only make it worse for the both of them, to torment themselves. She stood on her toes, kissing him on the lips before silent tears began to crawl down her face. "Happy Christmas, Edward," she backed away and he reached for her, wishing he could gently brush away her tears but she backed towards the door again. "I'm sorry Edward, I love you."
He watched the door close behind her and remained still until he heard the house door close again, then returned to the window to watch her run through the streets, her hands brushing at tears as she fled back to her own home. He felt the tears slipping down his own face, knowing he would never see her again, as he watched his angel run away.