Wooden Heart Chapter 5: Seeing Red, a carmilla fanfic

"So," Laura finally starts when she finds her voice again. Her mind is still blank. "When you said… when you said I was beautiful, you actually meant it."

"What?"

"After you, you know, touched my face, you said I was beautiful."

"That's what you're going for, cupcake?" Carmilla raises her left eyebrow so high, that it dissapeares behind her bangs. "But, yes. I think you are beautiful. But not because your skin is so fucking soft, I just never want to stop running my fingers over it. Or because you smell divine – by the way you have to tell me what shampoo you are using, it's driving me insane. Or because you do this strange little things while you talk, like stress the end of every sentence like you're asking a question, when you are not.

"But there's more. I don't perceive beauty like other people do. Beauty for me is not about being a size zero, about how big or small somebody is, what their skin color is, or if their eyeliner is perfect. For me beauty isn't physical. I can appreciate all those things, but they are not beauty. I don't really need eyes to enjoy beauty, that's beauty for me. Beauty is a feeling. It's feeling the warmth of your hand around mine; it's the way that simple touch makes me feel a million different things."

Laura moves closer, so close that her knee is touching Carmilla. She brings their still intertwined hands up and presses soft kisses on Carmilla's knuckles. Using other hand to brush the hair out of Carmilla's face, Laura cups her cheek with her free hand, while her thumb is softly caressing Carmilla's skin. She sits up straight, searching Carmilla's face.

"So are you. You are beautiful, Carmilla."

They bodies are moving even closer, Carmilla has wrapped an arm around her waist. Her hand is just resting on her lower back like a promise she doesn't even have to voice. The blanket has fallen to the ground, but neither of them notices. They are too caught up with each other to notice anything else. Their faces are only inces apart, she feels Carmilla's warm breath on her skin. She remembers how they had been in a similar situation minutes before. Remembers how much she had longed for her touch, to have Carmilla touch her, to be able to touch Carmilla. Again and again, her eyes dart towards Carmilla's lips. In the dim moonlight they look so inviting, so tempting. Laura licks her lips in anticipation of what's to come.

"You can kiss me, Laura." Her voice is husky, dark.

Without losing a second, Laura closes the gap between them. Their kiss is tentative, Laura closes her eyes. She wants to feel every second of this. Their lips are moving against each other gingerly. Laura lets out a small whimper and feels Carmilla's mouth turn into a smile. This woman is going to be the death of her. Her lips are just to goddamn soft, and they just seem to fit together perfectly. Carmilla pulls her closer, her hand moving up from her lower back entangling itself in Laura's long and curly hair. She plays with strands of her hair, softly curling them in her fingers, while putting small kisses on the corners of her mouth. She draws back, her hand still roaming through Laura's hair.

"I really like you, cupcake," she says stressing every word. Like before Laura can feel the words - feel the air that escapes Carmilla's mouth when she voices them - before she can hear them. Laura laughs, because what else is there to do. She tries to remember the last time she's been so happy. The last time she felt like jumping for joy, the last time somebody made her feel that special. It feels like a lifetime ago. Carmilla is still twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

"I like you too, Carmilla."

Carmilla moves their entangled hands up and this time it's her that presses a gentle kiss on Laura's hand. Laura's skin tingles where Carmilla's lips touch her. She is amazed by how gentle Carmilla's touches are. She doesn't think anybody has ever touched her the way the dark haired girl does. Her touches are soft and intimate, full of promises and full of attentiveness. Carmilla is treating her like she is somebody. Somebody special. Somebody that means a lot to her. Somebody she would never hurt.

Only now does Laura realize that Carmilla's hands are freezing. There are small goosebumps all over her arms, but she doesn't seem to care at all.

"You're are freezing. Again."

"I don't care," Carmilla just says leaning in again.

"Well, you should." Laura pulls away. "I don't want you to catch a cold or die of pneumonia."

"We're living in the 21st century, nobody dies of pneumonia anymore, cutie." Carmilla leans in again, but Laura puts even more distance between them. She is well aware of the fact that if Carmilla kissed her again, she might just forget what she was about to say.

"People still do. And I don't want you to be one of them." Carmilla makes a sound that sounds like a mix of a huff and a laugh. Laura just ignores her and the way her fingers are still drawing delicate patterns on the back of her hand. "Maybe we should get back inside?"

"No."

"Ok."

"I just, I don't really want to see any of those idiots at the moment. I just want to be here with you."

Laura make a decision then. She sits up and picks up the blanket to throw it over the both of them, while she snuggles up against Carmilla. The other girl wraps an arm around her pulling their bodies closer to each other. The mere gesture makes Laura feel warm all over again. It's probably some weird hormone thing that is currently happening inside of her body that makes her feel all tingly and content.

"Are you ok, cupcake?"

"I am more than okay," Laura smiles, "by the way Carmilla, why do you keep calling me those petnames? Isn't that a bit early?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Laura says before realizing it, "I mean, I don't know. I was just wondering if this is your thing, if it is a ploy to you know…"

"… to get girls?" Carmilla laughs. "It's not. Honestly. But I guess that means it's working on you, huh? Good to know. But it's not... it's just easier."

"Easier? Easier how?"

"I'm not good at remembering names, I'm not good at recognizing people I only met a handful of times. But somehow they always expect me to. Somebody comes up to me, shouts a hello in my ear like I'm fucking deaf and, you know, expects me to recognize them at once. Most of the time, I don't. So I made a habit of using nicknames; but if you want, I can stop it. Saying your name feels pretty nice too, Laura. Laura."

"I like it too," Laura manages to say with a weak voice. "But I also like the, you know, nicknames. Though I think it's going to make me pretty jealous, when you call other girls cupcake or cutie," Laura admits.

"Then I won't."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"You're amazing, you know that?"

"I don't think not calling other people cutie or sweetheart is generally considered amazing, but I take it."

"You are, Carmilla."

"You know, I... a teeny part of me had hoped that you could actually like me, but I didn't really believe we, you... and now, look at us."

Laura isn't really sure what she means. Yeah, she doesn't really know Carmilla, she doesn't know who her best friend in kindergarden was, what the first record was she bought herself, who she looks up to, what she is doing in her free time... there are a lot of things she doesn't know about Carmilla Karnstein. But she doesn't believe that there is something that could ever make her not like the other girl.

"Was that why you left? Because you were afraid, I'd... reject you, because you are... because you are blind?" she asks slowly.

Carmilla takes some time to answer. She leans her head back against the wall and takes a deep breath.

"I liked you, from the first moment. I felt something when you entered the room, I can't really describe it. It wasn't attraction, it was something deeper, something... more. I just wanted to make you laugh, make you feel happy. And I guess I was just afraid. Afraid how you'd react; if you'd be like everybody else in the end. Everybody treats me like I'm... that all that makes me me is what I am not. That my disability is me. They treat me like I am this fragile, little puppet that breaks when you put a little bit of pressure on it. Like they have to tiptoe around me. If it were up to my mom, I'd probably never leave the house. They act like being blind is all that I am."

"I don't think that. I know that you are so much more, which is really strange, isn't it? I don't know anything about you, and I still feel like I know you."

"You know some things... that I am an amazing kisser for example."

Laura hits her arm. "You are going to be the death of me, you know that?"

"Well, I am an amazing kisser."

And she was. Laura feels a pang of jealousy when she thinks of all the people that Carmilla has kissed before her, of all the people she has been intimate with. It's stupid that's she jealous of people that are probably no longer a part of Carmilla's life, but she can't really help it.

"But I'd like to get to know you as well, Laura."

Again with only a few words, Carmilla makes her forget everything; the petty jealousy she had been feeling before is gone within a second. Instead she looks up at Carmilla, who is smiling at her.

"That sound like a good idea, Carm. Hmm, so what's your favorite season?"

"Springtime," Carmilla asks without giving it much thought.

"Mine's summer. Favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"Chocolate. Yours?"

"Mint. Favorite food?"

"Steak. Yours?"

"Anything Italian really. My nonna used to cook for us all the time, when I was younger. It was the best I've ever eaten."

"Us? Do you have any siblings? Or just your mom and dad?"

"I... no siblings, no. And it's only me and my dad now."

Carmilla halts. She looks down at Laura, well turns her head towards her and gives her hand a squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Laura."

"It's okay. It was a long, long time ago."

Carmilla draws small, soothing circles on the back of her hand. She's quiet for a while, lost in her own thoughts.

"I lost my dad as well a few years ago, you know. He was my best friend. For the longest time I didn't know how to go living without him. Me and mom, we never saw eye to eye. And she drove the car, that... I never really forgave her. Dad, he was such a goofball. At work he was this serious and important business man with his tailored suits and neck ties, but at home he was a completely different person. He taught me how to dance; all those classical dances: waltz, foxtrot, jive, but sometimes we'd just jump around, dance and sing like nobody was watching."

"He sounds like an amazing person."

"He was. You know, I think he would've liked you."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Laura sighs, utterly lost in Carmilla's words. Her mom would've like Carmilla too.

"My mom was the one that taught me how to play the piano; I was never any good, but it was something we did together, it was our thing. I don't always like to remember her, because it makes losing her hurt even more. She was the kindest person, she liked everybody and everybody liked her. She worked at the local library and we didn't have money to pay for a babysitter, so she often took me with her to work. I loved it there. The smell of the books, the unfathomable amount of knowledge that was hiding in between all those covers. The stories, the people, the emotions. I think I read more than anybody else my age."

"Sounds familiar."

"I had this one spot where I used to hide and read until my eyes hurt. In the geography section, there was a small gap in between the book cases and the wall; I used to crawl in there and read till it was time to go home. And one day, my mom had put blankets and pillows in there. Just for me. After she died, I never went back. It just hurt too much."

"The pain never really goes away, you just learn to live with it," Carmilla sighs, "thank you for telling me, Laura."

She doesn't answer, Laura just leans up and softly kisses Carmilla on the lips. It's only a small peck, just their lips grazing each other for no longer than a second. It's her way of saying thank you. Thank you for listening, thank you for telling me your story. She leans back into Carmilla, who pulls her closer wrapping her arm around Laura's middle.

"I think I could stay like this forever."

"Yeah," Carmilla says lazily, while her fingers play with the fabric of Laura's shirt. "Just the two of us."

"Just the two of us," Laura echoes. She likes the sound of it; she likes the way that Carmilla is talking of an us rather than a you and a me. She smiles at the thought. It all happened so fast, she still needs some time to get used to the idea that this beautiful and kind stranger really does like her.

"So..." Laura takes a moment to think of what to ask Carmilla. There are so many things she's dying to ask, so many things she wants to find out, but she isn't sure if now is the time. Maybe she should just stick to the simple things, the basics. "What's your favorite band?"

"Led Zeppelin. Yours?"

"Really? Ehmm great, now I know that you are going to judge me for sure. I.. I love One Direction." She laughs nervously. She doesn't want Carmilla to judge her for her musical taste, she can't help it that the boys awake the inner fangirl in her.

But Carmilla just shrugs. "I'm not going to judge you over something as stupid as your music choice, cupcake. I have never even listened to any of their songs."

"Really, don't you listen to the radio?" Laura asks amazed.

"I try not to."

"Of course you do." And Carmilla doesn't look like somebody who does, she looks like sombody who brings her own music wherever she goes. She looks like somebody that hangs out in antique record stores and still listens to vinyl.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. Favorite... animal?"

"Big Cats. A black panther. Yours?"

"Racoon. Next, umm... favorite color?" Within a split second she realizes that she just asked a blind person what her favorite color is. God damn it, sometimes she was just really dumb. "Sorry, Carmilla. I ju- just didn't think. Stupid idiot, always talking before-"

"No, it's ok. I'm just sorry I can't answer your question. I mean I could tell you it was red, the color of love and fire and poppies. Or I could tell you it was green, the color of endless meadows of grass, the color of nature, the color of leaves in the summer, before they turn red and orange in the fall. But those are just things people told me, nothing I have ever or will ever see on my own. Colors mean nothing to me."

"Oh."

"I just don't understand them, you know. I mean, I know the physics behind it. I probably know more than you, but still... knowledge is one thing, being able to see, experience them something completely different. I know that color isn't something that is inherently there, but it derives from the spectrum of light interacting with the eye and it's light receptors. I could tell you which wavelength equals which color, but I could never, never tell you how it feels to see green, blue or red."

Laura sits up, reluctantly she moves apart from Carmilla. The idea might be stupid, she might embarass herself by trying it, but she wouldn't be Laura Hollis is she didn't even try.

"I want to explain it."

"Explain what?"

"Colors. Well not colors, but my favorite color."

"I... ok." Carmilla wants to argue with her, Laura is sure of that. She wants to tell her what a stupid idea it is. But she doesn't. Thankful Laura takes her hand again. She takes a second to collect her thoughts.

"Alright, so... my favorite color is red. Like you said it's the color of fire, of poppies, it's also the color of strawberries and raspberries, when they are ripe. There are a lot of things that are red or that can be red. A car can be red, a shirt can be red, basically everything can be red. I don't think you can understand a color by listing things that are red, or blue, or yellow. Colors are like, like keys on a piano. Every key, every note, is a special shade, a different color. Some a very different from each other, some are similar, but they are still unlike each other. The way the keys sound different, the colors are also different. You have high notes and you have low notes. You have dark and you have light colors. But like you said colors are more, when you see a color, you feel the color at the same time. For some people red means love, for others it equals war and destruction. There isn't a right way to see a color, everybody experiences it in a different way. So when I tell you what red is, I tell you what red means to me.

"Red is a warm color. In contrast to grey or blue, it's like a cold winter night, when you are wearing your favourite sweater. When you feel the warm and familiar fabric on your skin, giving you warmth and security. Or when you are sitting by the fireside, listening to the wood crackling. And not because fire is red, because fire can be red, but it also an be blue, or green, or even purple if you put certain chemicals in it or let it burn at a certain heat. No, I mean the feeling of the warmth radiating in the air, enveloping your whole body, making you feel content. You can feel the fire even if you're sitting metres away from it. The way you can feel the sun on your skin on a sunny day. It's the feeling of being safe, of feeling like you are exactly where you belong at the moment.

"Red is being surrounded by people I love. My dad hugging me so hard that I can barely breath. Falling asleep while my friends and family still quietly talk next to me, trying not to wake me up with their conversation. Falling asleep with their voices in my head, knowing they are there with me. Kissing somebody I never want to let go. Lying in bed with the one person that truly gets me. Red is feeling at home."

Laura takes a deep breath, organizing the thoughts in her head. Before she didn't really know where she was going with this, what she wanted to say, how she was supposed to explain such an intangible concept as colors t somebody who has never seen anything in their life. She just knew that she wanted Carmilla to know. She wanted to share something. Show her something special. Laura looks at Carmilla and notices that her cheeks are wet. Tears are running down her cheeks in erratic paths. Carmilla sniffs. And she smiles. A wide smiles that shows her perfect teeth. Laura uses her hand to brush a tear away, but Carmilla catches her hand mid movement.