No Strings Attached

Day 45

            Winter had fallen upon the small town of Lawrence, Kansas, coating the buildings in a thick layer of snow. The white atmosphere slowed everything down, the change in pace much appreciated by the townspeople. The buzz of summer and fall was exhausting, the stifling heat only adding to the pressure. Now that the colder weather had set in, everyone was able to take a deep breath and relax into natural hibernation.

            Couples everywhere were settling into the annual winter pattern, donning their matching sweaters and cuddling in front of fireplaces. There was a serious lack of couples on the street as each and every pair retreated into their homes. As usual, it was easy to spot the single ones. They were the ones roaming the streets all by their lonesome, window shopping without a partner and staring longingly at any couple that might pass by. It was a sad thing being alone during the holidays.

            The cozy winter vibe of couple-ville only seemed to be present when they were locked inside their homes, for when they were out in public, it was practically a warzone. The countdown to Christmas was in full swing in the couple-filled town. Stores were overcrowded with people, the frenzy of Christmas shopping never ceasing to amaze. Competition thrived in towns like this and the holiday cheer seemed to bring out the worst in people.

            Dean had always loved wintertime. It wasn't because of the way the streets looked frosted in snow. It wasn't because of the way the cold seemed to seep through the cracks and make him want to hide under the covers. It certainly wasn't because of the decorations or Christmas cheer, although he did appreciate the merriness of it all. It was because of his work schedule.

            Every year, right before Christmas, the construction company would force everyone to work overtime. They thought it was best to just push through the ice and snow to complete as many projects as possible. Most people would despise the extra work, possibly even go as far as to make an official complaint. Dean, on the other hand, was ecstatic. Because of course, extra time at work meant less time at home.

            Already he was enjoying his freedom. Midway through December and he had barely spoken two words to Lisa. He would leave the house before she woke each morning, stepping out into the icy air with his shoulders a little straighter. Then he would return late, crawling under the covers long after she had fallen back asleep. Sometimes he would catch her right before she fell asleep, but those conversations never lasted long due to their exhaustion.

            Although he was barely seeing the woman he lived with, he never once missed a date with Elena. Their regular meetings were growing longer as they both desired more, never really wanting to leave the other's company. The couple had done plenty in the past few weeks, helping each other with Christmas shopping and even visiting a tree lot together. Since Damon refused to help Elena with the house decorations, Dean was happy to volunteer his assistance. It took a bit of convincing on Dean's part, but eventually Elena had opened up her home to him and allowed him to help decorate.

            So Dean had stopped by one morning after Damon had left for work, brandishing his best smile as Elena let him into her home. It was weird at first, seeing all the happy pictures of Damon and Elena on the walls as they moved throughout the house. Soon though, the two of them were able to move past the awkwardness, laughing instead as they put Damon's ornaments on the tree Dean had picked out. Lisa never let Dean help, so it was nice for him to be a part of the decorating insanity.

            Dean rose this morning thinking of Elena's home, remembering how happy she looked in the photographs and how much of a lie they were. He remembered the odd places they were hung as well, wondering why she would choose to hang a picture frame under a light-switch or behind a coffee table. It almost seemed like she was hiding something, some imperfection or scar left behind by a violent confrontation. She didn't bring it up and he didn't ask, but he could see the way her eyes seemed to linger on them.