"I must go."

She knew she should have proposed to come with him because he always cared for her, even when he was struggling with his own ghosts ; she wanted to support him in his grief but not by standing next to him in a cemetery. Mourning is a solitary activity; she didn't want to interfere in his intimacy.

"I might come with you."

She hoped she had succeeded in concealing her reluctance. Fortunately for her, sorrow seemed to make him more oblivious and withdrawn.

"Thanks."

But no. She got it. She offered him a pathetic apologetic smile, and he sketched the shadow of a smile. He was putting his jacket back on; he hadn't noticed that he had taken it off. Old habits.

She looked at him without breaking the silence that had filled the room. He hid it well, but she knew him; she saw it everywhere, in the lethargy of his gestures, in his fleeting gaze, and in the joyless darkness of his eyes : sadness, like an embracing shadow.

"So as a perfect housewife, I will wait for you to come back. Mavis, I can't believe I'm saying such a thing."

He smirked, and she knew the pain was away for a time. Not long. But for the moment at least.

"Thank you, sweetheart. I hope you will have prepared the dinner when I am back."

She found him insufferable when he was so openly self-satisfied, so he took pleasure in smirking.

He loved teasing her because he loved the way her eyes sparkled playfully when he did it, because he loved her amazed smile when he managed to get the last word, the one she tried to suppress but that always ended up stretching her lips in a side smile. She loved it when he managed to shut her up as much as she hated it, and he loved being able to continue flirting under the pretext of arguing.

"Arghh, don't start."

He grinned. She was definitely much funnier when she was pissed, and he really loved to tease her.

"Or what?"

He was obviously provoking her and flashed a cheeky smile.

"Or that!"

She threw him one of the cushions set on the nearest couch; he easily avoided it, and while she went around him to grab another cushion, he had reached the couch and was grabbing a soft cushion too. Luckily for them, they hadn't broken anything even though a porcelain vase had threatened to fall but had miraculously stayed in place. Between two pillows, the bursts of laughter filled the room. He hadn't laughed so much in years, and she realised that she hadn't either. She felt deeply happy.

She was so beautiful.

He had left minutes after. She imagined him walking in the snow, his prints disappearing behind him, swept by the wind. She didn't know where his parents were buried or how much time he would need. So she waited.

So far, the guilt hadn't hit her yet; she came because he needed her support during one of the worst days of the year for him. She had no reason to feel guilty.

Then she saw Jubia's face float in her mind, her smile announcing to her that she had a surprise for her beloved. That was cruel. She should have been the one with him, here. Jubia had always supported him, and if she had known the meaning of this day, she would have wanted to be there.

She looked at the time. It was only 3:30 PM; getting here had taken them six hours. If they left before 5 PM, they would be back by midnight. It was late, but if she warned Juvia, maybe she could turn her dinner into lunch for tomorrow.

She could even have asked Grey to drop her off at the guild tonight and leave discreetly, letting them in together. On the other hand, she doubted that Grey would appreciate the surprise after a day on the road and full of emotions.

She didn't know. Maybe he would be back soon, and they could be back at the guild before midnight. Oh Mavis, she was going to become crazy if she stayed there waiting without doing anything. He hadn't eaten anything all day, and when she had looked for something to nibble on to pass the time, she had found nothing except pasta and some canned goods. He hadn't lied; he really must have only come here very rarely.

The village was less than two miles away. It was really nice; most of the houses were traditional constructions made of wood and stone. The rural setting seemed ready to host a movie. There was a town hall and a church in the centre. A small fountain in front of the school and alleys to lose count; most of them are wide and end in steps in a provincial style. The village seemed built on several levels.

She found a delicatessen but continued on her way until reaching a shop selling local and artisanal products. When she came back, the chalet was still empty. She brought in the groceries and decided to go take a shower to warm up.

"I'm home."

She was still in the bathroom and didn't hear him. The water had stopped, and she was observing herself in the mirror. The room was filled with steam and heat. She felt cold as she stepped out and didn't expect to run into him. She had lost track of time as she lounged under the water.

"Oh wow. Sorry I didn't know you were here."

She tightened the towel around her with one hand.

"Well. Hum, never mind. Good timing. Might I borrow you a shirt?"

Sure, she could have invoked clothes, but she had to say something before the atmosphere became too awkward, and that was the first thought to cross her mind. He nodded still without looking at her. He had immediately looked away, more out of respect than modesty, and she appreciated the effort.

She followed him through the hallway; they passed several doors before he opened one for her. His room. He walked straight to the closet from which he pulled out a black t-shirt.

"That's a lot of clothes for someone who can't keep them on all day."

"Very funny, Miss Scarlet."

She smiled while he narrowed his eyes. She wasn't sorry at all; he was always teasing her; she could well annoy him a little.

"I know."

She said it proudly, and he smirked.

"Could you go? I have to change."

" In two seconds "

He grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom. She waited to hear the door closing before she put his t-shirt on and left his bedroom to look for the laundry room. She found it after several tries. This place was really too spacious.

She left her towel and went to explore a little, then she returned to the living room. She turned on her phone, placed it on the coffee table, and settled into the sofa. Six thirty. Blast! She sighed and closed her eyes, letting herself fall into the couch. Two hands came to rest on her shoulders; she hadn't heard him arrive but kept her eyes closed.

"What's wrong?"

She slowly opened her eyes. He took his hands away and came to sit next to her.

"Juvia prepared a surprise for you, and I was supposed to make sure you would be at the guild tonight."

"Give me your phone."

She looked at him a bit puzzled, but she gave it to him.

"She will take it better if it comes from me."

He was right. And just like that, he disappeared for two minutes, which turned into five, then ten, and finally she decided to occupy herself, unwilling to wait for a man busy with another woman. They say cooking can be therapeutic. She set out to prepare some semblance of dinner ; she had bought some pasta-making supplies.

She washed the tomatoes before dicing them and putting them in a bowl and then sliced a red onion into rings. She washed her hands and searched for a minute where he kept the pans, then she found the olive oil and sautéed the onions while she started cooking the pasta on another plate.

" What are you doing ? "

" Skiing obviously "

He smirked, then approached her and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

"How can I help you?"

"You can't."

She was focused, and he decided to set the table since he was being underfoot. He handed her a colander before she lost three more minutes searching for it. She thanked him, and he did the dishes while she served the plates.

"Do we eat in front of a film?"

"Seriously?"

"I have exhausted all my powers as a smooth talker for tonight."

She cracked a smile, an understanding one. His conversation with Juvia must have been tumultuous. He hid his feelings way too well sometimes; she had almost forgotten why they were here initially. He was mourning but had to deal with Juvia and her the same day.

"Okay, but you choose."

They settled on the couch; the movie wasn't bad but not good either. He barely looked at it, lost in thought most of the time. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he relaxed, coming out of his thoughts for a second; she could have sworn she saw him smile.

"You will fall asleep."

His voice was husky, a bit hoarse, and she wondered if he had cried over their gravestone. She was uneasy imagining him bent in front of the stela, tears dribbling over his cheeks in the silence of the falling snow.

"No"

He half smiled; her voice was already weak, and he could feel her dozing against him. Nevertheless, she straightened up slightly and took a shallow breath.

"Do you still not want to talk? The day must have been emotionally exhausting."

Her voice was soft and carried so much sincerity. She was deeply concerned by both his answer and not crossing the line ; it was like walking on eggshells. They had this in common: an aversion to talking about their feelings and a risk to express a vulnerability that they violently rejected from their own consciousness.

"Not really wanting to talk about it."

"You should. You never do."

" It's hypocritical. "

"Indeed, but that doesn't mean it's false."

"Do as I say, not as I do."

"That suits us pretty well."

He looked at her. He loved when she said us.

"I am sad and nostalgic in a way that seems strange since I have almost no memories of them, my parents. I miss something I am not even sure I knew, and that is confusing. And the introspection will stop here; I won't say anything more."

"That's enough."

He looked at her; she was watching this horrible movie, but he felt blithe. It was good having her. He wrapped his right arm around her, and she nestled against him. He absentmindedly stroked her hair, enjoying the warmth and the comfort she offered without speaking, knowing she would definitely fall asleep against him.