Through the Glass (Strangers in the Night #11)
AU. Strangers who meet young. Stuff happens.
This just came to me watching the rain right now. Hope you enjoy it :)
It was on a cold, snowy night that she saw him for the first time.
The world was wrapped in white all around their small townhouse and the little snowflakes were continuing to fall. For a few hours, she’d been out with her dad, tasting the snowflakes on her little pink tongue, making small balls with her hands and wetting her thick mittens. But the chill had gotten too bad so she’d come inside to her warm, delicious-smelling house, had cleaned up and sat her tush on her chair beside the dining table.
It was then, while drinking from her hot cup of chocolate with the marshmallows as night fell outside, while her parents sat before her with their backs to the large windows, that she saw him.
Gaunt. Thin. Pale.
He looked so cold. His teeth visibly chattered in the wind she could see blowing outside, the paleness of his skin matching the falling snow. And in that pale, thin face of overlong, messy blond hair, she saw those sad blue eyes, blue like the beautiful sky on a clear day. He was looking into the house, his eyes roaming all over the place, taking in everything with such longing on that tired face that her eyes filled.
He caught her looking at him.
Fear flashed across his face.
And then, he was gone.
Before she could utter a word.
She went to her warm bed that night, thinking of the cold boy with the sad blue eyes.
She went to her soft bed, an eight-year-old who didn’t know her life had changed.
She caught him outside her window the next night.
Her little heart beat faster when she found him, leaning against the glass, peeking inside her small bedroom. Before she could stop herself, she climbed down from the bed and without turning on the lights, went to the window.
She leaned her head back at looked slightly up at him, seeing his blue eyes widen for a second upon seeing her awake. Tilting her head to the side, she took in the thin, ugly sweater he wore with a small hole near his shoulder, the jeans that had faded to an almost light color, and the scuffed shoes. Then, she peeked down at her own thick red socks, her tummy hurting for him.
But she couldn’t invite him inside. She couldn’t talk to him either. He was a stranger and talking to strangers was bad.
Biting her lip, she looked back up into his sad eyes, and slowly placed her tiny hands on the glass opposite his.
His hands, just slightly bigger than hers, shook.
Before she could question herself, Felicity ran back to her bed, plucked out her favorite blue blanket - with the big brown wolf looking up at the big yellow moon that her mom had made for her - and dragged it to the window, almost falling down twice under the weight of the thing.
The boy watched her quietly, stepping back when she opened the window, thrust the blanket into his arms and slammed the glass down again before he could snatch her away.
She saw the boy look down at her favorite blanket in his arms, saw his fingers curl around it, and saw him look up.
And she grinned.
His eyes weren’t so sad anymore.
She woke up extra early the next morning, just to see if he was there.
Quelling the disappointment down, Felicity jumped to the kitchen, a new mission on her mind.
He came that night, wordlessly, soundlessly, wrapped in her blanket, and pressed those hands upon the glass.
She got down from the bed on her tippy toes, wordlessly, soundlessly, and pressed her hands against his.
Then she snatched the Tupperware of pie she’d been saving for him the whole day, opened the window a peek and thrust it into his arms before slamming the window down again.
He looked down at the box for a long time, his lips trembling, before looking up at her.
And she knew, without a doubt, he would be back.