Deafening wind roared ferociously against my rounded infantile cheeks, like tenacious ocean sprays from waves that refused to stop hurtling into fatally serrated shoreline rocks. My breathing had grown cripplingly heavy; I was convinced that there was a gaping cavern in my chest, in the spot where the cavity between my lungs and diaphragm existed.
I fearfully dared to chance a glance behind – a jet-black rabid hound, edges of its fur painted wispy grey, pursued us narrowly, jagged canines bared pugnaciously in its savage mouth.
"Don't turn around!" five-year-old Chase commanded stringently to me, soft mop of pearl-peach hair blazing an erratic trail behind him. He was barely a boy, childlike fingers still small and plump, eyes yet to transition into the gemstone amethyst they would finally develop to be, face still fresh with the carefreeness of childhood. His wide eyes were coloured a deep lilac; crystal pools of innocence. Flowering garden of ingenuous hope.
"I'm tired, Chasey," I called out from behind him, between sharp intakes of breath. My lungs felt like rocks had been tied to their ankles, ready to be suffocated in the sea. Inhaling deeply, I desperately swallowed the exquisite gulp of oxygen that graced my trachea.
The deranged wolfhound remained hot on our heels, its own labored exhalations growing noticeably heftier. Bright red blood trickled down its stained yellowing teeth; its left eye was crosshatched haphazardly with bloodshot veins.
A small palm appeared in front of me. "Grab my hand," Chase instructed, fingers outstretched expectantly.
"That won't make us run faster," I rebutted in confusion.
"It'll make me run faster," he huffed out, winded, "and then I'll pull you along." He turned around to look at me, despite his previous order of not looking back. Smiling as widely as his trusting cheeks would allow, his eyes almost turned to slits in his untimely jollity. The crinkles neighbouring his eyes: curved bluebell petals.
I laced my fingers through his, without hesitation. Our small hands clutched together tight, as we raced vehemently through the musty forest.
An indigo and violet miasma settled in the indentation between his swollen knuckles, where the bite marks of the black hound had left small craters in his skin. Tiny droplets of blood had stained a path down the back of his hand, journeying past his palm. The unstable creature growled menacingly, determined to exact revenge for the punch Chase had landed on it earlier, when it had pounced on me in its berserk outburst. My heart jerked in my chest when I remembered the sight of its filed razorblades of teeth sinking into Chase's fist.
"I'm scared," I murmured from the few centimeters I lagged behind him, squeezing tighter onto his steadfast fingers.
"It's okay," he assured me, dragging me ever so slightly closer towards him, "I'm right here."
The soundless opening of Sonata Tailoring's door greeted me with a melodious harmony of chimes, playing delicately in the background. The rhythmic hum of sewing machines wafted ephemerally through the warm air. Spotting a steel blue head amongst the vibrant mélange of rosette pinks, lemon meringue yellows and pastel lavenders, I made a beeline for the noisy sewing machine Candace sat behind, busily immersed in her stitching. Her metallic blue bangs faded into deep cobalt as the loose strands in her large braids entwined further down her shoulders. She smelled like snow, freshly fallen on the street pavement. The fluorescent lights that hung from the ceiling painted an incandescent halo around her head.
Tearing her ultramarine eyes away from her sewing, like an emu pulling its head out of the ground, Candace smiled sweetly at me, cherub lips plumped together, curling upwards; the arc of a cupid's bow.
"Hey," I began, delicately taking a seat next to her, "I haven't seen you around lately."
"Luna's been stressing about the clothes we're going to sell for spring," she explained softly, nimble hands moving along a sheet of lily white cloth with deft expertise.
"You sure it's not because you're avoiding Chase?" I interrogated subtly, keeping a suspicious eye fixed on her.
She fell quiet, misty eyes darting hurriedly back to the embroidered material running up and down the sewing machine. I sighed heavily, Chase's dourness having afflicted her more than I'd thought.
"I wanted to apologize for him," I spoke sympathetically, bowing my head slightly to express my repentance on his behalf, "I've been badgering him to do it himself, but you know how stubborn he can be."
A shy giggle emerged from her petite mouth, muted by the steady pulsing of her stitching. "Actually, he already apologized."
"When was this?" I queried, astonished.
"About three weeks ago, only a few days after it happened. He seemed pretty sincere about it. Said you told him to do it," she related to me timidly. Chase's hidden sweetness surfaced in all its glory – the creamy custard below the shell of hardened sugar, burnt to a crisp. A subtle hint of teasing lurked in her voice.
"Don't even start," I warned her playfully, retaliating before she could land a blow, "And Julius all but came up to Chase and challenged him to an idiotic drinking contest yesterday, hoping he'd apologize to you if he lost. Isn't that sweet?"
A smile masking sad desperation settled, like dust, on her face. The hum of the sewing machine came to a halt, as her hands drifted heavily down to her lap. The navy crochet cardigan she donned drooped with despair.
"What's the matter?" I asked, concerned.
"I don't know how to talk to him," she whispered, anxiety filling her veins, "Every time he talks to me, I have so many things that I want to say, but it's like the words just won't come out." She fingered her tartan floor length skirt nervously.
My heart filled with pity for the fretful blue head – her eyes glinted with shimmering moisture. "Let's go to dinner tonight," I suggested cheerily, in an attempt to raise the depressed seamstress's spirits, "You, Julius and me. I'll drag Chase along too. He can pay for dinner to show you how sorry he is," I chuckled evilly.
She thought it over for a fleeting second. "Okay," she nodded shortly, small, pretty smile spreading gradually across her angelic face, the blossoming of a daffodil that's been coiled up all winter, "I'd like that."
"Tell me again why we have to tag along on their date?" a sarcastic Chase whispered inaudibly into my ear, eyelids lowering in exasperation at having had to listen to Julius ramble on about gems for ten minutes now. We were seated in the Ocarina Inn, picking slowly at the orders Colleen had whipped up for us. Seated across the table from me, Candace remained painfully solemn, bashful eyes casted down at her hands, gaze burning a fire into her chocolate brown moccasins. A faint neon pink blush graced her cheeks, like an artist had painstakingly brushed each stroke onto the pale canvas of her skin.
"Because you owe me, for carrying you all the way back to your house last night," I muttered lowly in retort. Last night's memories of the deadweight Chase stumbling over his own feet came rushing back to me like a whirlwind; my neck was still sore from the plank, his arm, that'd been slung over my shoulders, as I begrudgingly supported his burden for him. "Do you even remember what you said to me yesterday?"
"I said a lot of things yesterday," he replied ruefully, eyes shooting up to check that Julius was still immersed in his one-man monologue, "Which one are you talking about?"
"We'll talk about it later," I responded in a hushed tone, noticing that Candace's marine blue eyes had become fixated on our unsubtle conversation, "For now, concentrate on getting them talking."
"I don't see why we have to," he groaned in vexation, finally turning his mouth away from my ear, "That's all he's been doing all night," he mumbled irately under his breath. I punched his shoulder.
"So, you guys knew one another as kids, right?" I asked Candace pointedly, shooting her a look signaling that this was her chance to speak, for the first time that night.
The angel-faced twenty-three year old brought her head up hurriedly, the exact picture of a deer caught in headlights. "That's right," the words barely floated out from between her lips; I had to strain my ears to catch them. A look of worry plodded over her face.
"She's always been quiet," Julius lamented. Bright magenta and banana yellow streaked the front strands of his effervescent lavender hair; flamboyant diamanté heart earrings dangled animatedly from his earlobes. His deep ruby eyes glowed with a vivaciousness I hadn't seen in them before.
"You were a little intimidating as a child," she murmured, hand immediately clasping over her rose petal lips after she uttered this sentence, as if only just realizing what she'd revealed – perhaps surprised by her own daringness.
He laughed contritely. "You've got me there," he admitted, turning to face us, "I used to pick on her quite a bit." Musical notes intermingled between his words.
"I know your pain," Chase broke into the conversation, surprising me that he'd gone through the immense torture it was for him to chat, "This one right here used to bully me all the time as well." He knocked his knuckles against the side of my brow, corners of his lips twisting into a smirk. I realized, precipitously, that he was doing his part in trying to coax the clammed up Candace out of her shell.
"I think it was the other way around," I retaliated swiftly, digging my curled fingers into his side, eliciting laughter from his caramel lips. His lithe hands went to grab my wrist, in an attempt to save himself from my deadly tickles. A smile broke out on my lips, teeth gleaming in all their unabashed glory, as his contagious laughter entered my bloodstream. A small giggle escaped Candace's lips as she observed the scene unfolding in front of her with amusement; Julius looked at her in a way I couldn't describe – like her smile could instantaneously dissolve all his troubles in the world. He looked at her like the lustrous night sky rested in her ocean blue eyes.
Composing ourselves, we humbly turned back to them. "Why'd you pick on her, anyway?" I berated Julius lightly, "I'll bet she was adorable as a child. All angelic and doe eyed."
"That she was," he replied laughingly, maroon eyes darting inconspicuously to her, as she poked at her buckwheat tempura intently, "I was pretty immature back then, I'm afraid. A bit of an idiot, too. Can't say too much has changed since then." He chuckled lightly.
Candace dared to venture the slightest traces of a bashful smile to him, tense shoulders visibly softening; a stray dog warming up to a kindly stranger. He looked at her like he'd just won the lottery, and she was his million dollar prize.
"They're cute, huh?" I mouthed cheerfully to Chase, who had abruptly turned his head back to his oozy mushroom gratin the moment I curved my head to him. Turning his gaze back to me, he smiled a genuine half smile, only one side of his cheek tugging the edges of his lips up. "They're alright," he drawled, rolling his piercing amethyst eyes; the colour of the liquid inside a magic eight ball, like his eyes held the answers to the questions of the universe. Glancing back up at them, he shot me a knowing grin, edges of his dreamlike eyes crinkling; the waves of a bluebell's petals.
"You're such a softie," I teased discreetly, willing the fluttering butterfly wings of my heart to be still.
"Thanks for dinner, Chase," Candace twittered, voice overflowing with sincere gratitude. He nodded curtly in acknowledgement, jewel eyes transfixed somewhere else. Keeping true to the promise I'd cemented for him, he'd paid for everyone's dinner, much to his chagrin.
"Thanks for this, Molly," Julius whispered inconspicuously into my ear, glancing distractedly at Candace as he shot me a thankful look. We stood outside the inn, under the overlooking roof that sheltered us from the falling evening snow. Harmonica Town's streetlights dyed the pavement in the flattering glow of candied orange.
"Don't worry about it," I assured him, tugging my overcoat tauter around my body, "But you are going to ask her out soon, right? Or are you waiting for her to turn eighty?" I prodded.
"I'm trying to find the perfect moment," he voiced imperceptibly, uncertain hand going to fuss proficiently with his hair, "I don't want to scare her off."
I caught Candace's eyes focused shyly on Julius – even at twenty-three, she still retained the hopeful look of a schoolgirl yearning for her crush to cast a transient glance at her, if just for a fleeting second. She was a dancer who had been practicing all her life to perform the ultimate piece for him. "At this point, I think any moment will be perfect to her."
He whispered in hushed tones, hurried, "But I want her to have it all, you know? The fireworks, the dramatic confession, the kiss that makes her think she never wants to kiss anyone else for the rest of eternity." Julius glimpsed at her again, like his eyes couldn't centre on anything else. A meaningful beam came to settle on his luscious lips. "She deserves it."
"God," I groaned aloud, earning me a scowl from Chase, indicating that he was getting fatigued from making small talk with the gold-mouthed Candace. I nodded subtly to him, in promise that we'd leave soon. Turning back to Julius, I rushed out my final nudge, the concluding ingredient to my catalyst, "You've only waited twenty-three years for your fabulous confession. Life isn't one of those fairytales, you know."
"I like to believe that sometimes it could be," he grinned, bowing politely before setting off to walk Candace home.
"For someone who gives so much unsolicited advice on love, you would think you'd be able to give some to yourself," Chase mocked sarcastically, sauntering over to my side, willowy arms crossed over his chest.
"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" I asked, in faux offense. Miniature snowflakes fell into Chase's hair, nestling their intricate patterns in the crooks of his honey strands.
A soft chuckled emitted from his flushed lips. "It means precisely what it sounds like. Don't I always mean what I say?"
"More like the opposite," I rolled my eyes dramatically.
"By the way," he began, fixing his eyes on a distant solitary brown leaf, lying lonesome on the ground, "I remember everything I said yesterday."
The white snow fell harder, floating down like a shower of cherry blossoms. Secrets that had been exposed.
"Attention, everybody. It's five minutes to midnight!" portly Hamilton announced into a megaphone he clutched between his pudgy hands, standing gleefully in front of the Town Hall. The villagers of Castanet had gathered together to usher in the New Year. In my peripherals, I caught sight of Julius and Candace huddling against one another.
"You can't say that my matchmaking isn't effective," I boasted merrily to Chase, who stood next to me, leaning against the short post behind him. Twinkling fairy lights adorned the spaces between the stone columns.
Gaze landing on Phoebe and Calvin talking animatedly to one another, Chase scoffed good-naturedly, languid fingers going to rub lazily at his eye. "Whatever you say, princess."
"Are you sleepy?" I interrogated accusatorily, "You work at a bar and you get off work at one in the morning. How can you be falling asleep at the New Year's countdown? It's like you're still five years old." I giggled momentarily, flashing back to the yearly countdown held in our hometown: Chase, aged five, falling asleep on my shoulder as we waited for the fireworks to begin.
"Well, excuse me, but I was slightly mortified that night from being bitten by that dog," he retaliated swiftly, referring to the hound he'd protected me from, the day we'd raced away from it in the forest, fearing for our lives. That had been three hours to midnight.
"That's right," I softened, eyes travelling to the indents of his knuckles – the faintest traces of a long dissipated scar lay nestled in the depressions. Tiredly, Chase rested his head against my shoulder, nudging me slightly. His hair smelled like butterscotch and vanilla beans. Twisting my neck, I caught sight of Toby standing next to Renee. His jade eyes met mine as he offered me a subtle smile of encouragement.
Here goes nothing. "Chase," I started warily, willing my tongue not to stumble over its own words, "about that night. The night we kissed," I rushed out, spitting the word kissed out as my heart leapt in my chest, "I'm sorry I forgot. I mean, I didn't mean to. Forget." My heart thumped aggressively against my ribcage; I inhaled deeply in an attempt to steady myself. He raised his amethyst eyes to watch me, never pulling his head away from my shoulder. "What I'm trying to say is, I wish I hadn't forgotten."
"You're falling all over your words," he smirked deliciously, stifling a chuckle.
I poked his temple deliberately, reluctant smile breaking out on my face.
"Five!" the crowd around us cheered, beginning the countdown to the New Year. Chase pulled himself up to a standing position, lifting the weight of his head off my shoulder.
"Four!"
"You know what I'm trying to say," I pouted childishly.
"Three!" Julius had draped his arm around Candace's cardigan clothed shoulders, resting his head on top of hers. Dusky pink blushes painted their cheeks.
"Two!"
"Yeah, I get it," Chase replied simply. I could feel his warmth through his shoulder that touched mine, despite our coats creating a barrier between us.
"One!"
A whisper. "So don't forget this." Svelte fingers cupped my flushed cheek. His rosy lips pressed fervently against mine; orange cookies, childhood, melting ice cream, nostalgia, wonder. From behind my closed eyes, the coy glimmering of fairy lights shone through; twinkling, sparklers, soft night-lights, stargazing, dreams coming true. Fireworks erupted into the blank canvas that was the night sky, a mirage of cherry reds, highlighter yellows, blushing pinks, zesty orange.
Julius had been wrong. This wasn't a scene out of those fairytale books, where the gentlemanly knight comes to save the beautiful damsel in distress whom he'd fallen in love with at first sight, confessing his undying love for her while perched atop his trusty white horse.
This was me kissing the boy I'd grown up with, who had been the only thing worth crying over when I moved away; who was always making sarcastic comments and smirking and teasing me. This was the boy who had given me his jacket to hide the stain when I had my first period, and ran to the store to buy me the pads I was too ashamed to purchase myself. This was the boy I'd tangled in mud with, force fed under baked cookies to, picked his nose when we were just kids, piggybacked around everywhere when he'd broken his ankle because the thought of being without the other had never occurred to us.
This wasn't a fairytale.
This was better.
Finally breaking apart, colourful metallic confetti rained down around us. I felt like the entire world was spinning. Intoxicated without having needed to drink a drop. Happiness and the fullness of life hitting me like a train on a track.
"Happy New Year, Moll," Chase whispered, his warm breath tickling my ear.
"Happy New Year," I replied, letting my shoulder bump against his.
We stayed silent for a few seconds. "So, this is weird, huh?" the peach head smirked, lowering his head as his amethyst eyes focused on me. The same crinkles from sixteen years ago materialized on the edges of his eyes. The same words raced through my mind, as they always did: kindness, friend, protector, soul mate, kindred, love.
"Super weird," I replied jokingly, wide smile etched onto my face.
Instinctively, our hands clasped together, like we'd been doing it our whole lives.