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P A S S I O N
The swirling, soft snow pressed a kiss to her thin lips as she stepped outside into the brisk air. It nipped at the bare skin that was exposed to the icy cool breeze. Once the change of temperature infiltrated her respiratory system, she felt alive. Invigorating and exhilarating, she couldn't explain the love she had for winter's first snowstorm. The first flakes melted against the wet concrete, sacrificing themselves so that the rest may prosper. A thick layer coated the ground in no time, and she brushed her fingertips against the surface in admiration. Scurrying into the vacant street, glancing both ways, she landed on her back directly under the traffic lights.
The white powder laminated her small frame, burying her lips and face in a gentle manner. Green, yellow, and red. The snow was much more visible under the lights that she thought to be intense. Her eyelids felt heavy and her body was soothed, but she was aware she could not sleep in the center of the street where cars occasionally zoomed by. She shivered against the frigid concrete, her back solid frozen. Celia had trained herself to do this without anxiety, but it wasn't always one-hundred percent effective. Her mind was a knot of problematic matters that were transpiring in her everyday life, and her heart was pounding. Her tongue was tangled. She just wanted to tell him. She needed to.
The reasons for her increased heart-beat speed included, but not limited to, the fear of trusting the world around her on the bumpy road, wanting to do something more in her life than cook, and the pressure and angst to tell a man she loved him. She didn't know why, but she felt as if time was running out. Something was developing worldwide. Celia was searching for something she couldn't reach, which was typical. So she let the snow envelope her into a frosty blanket and cozy state of mind that she wasn't prepared to depart from.
Two hands came down on each side of her body, and she nearly screamed, but the figure hovering over her pressed his finger to her lips. In fear, Celia slightly collided with his body, causing the two to giggle for a split second. "Gosh, James, you asshole." A grin stretched across his pale, frozen face. She never wanted to lose that memory; his smile was so angelic and pure.
"Darling, I can't tell — so help me out with this — if you're suicidal or just plain stupid,"
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Celia was familiar with the term "doll", and so it didn't provide the same fear. "Darling" had been unheard, and it took her by surprise, something the night seemed to be doing a lot. She wanted to live to hear him speak those words everyday, it was like music to her ears. But she couldn't tell him and risk everything. Or maybe she could. Sacrifices were apart of life; she couldn't spend all her time wondering.
Just tell him.
She stared up at the oceanic blue eyes that were tracing over her pink nose. Stray flurries got lost in his tousled hair. Bucky leaned down. . . and for only a second Celia thought this would be it. She was going to have a heart attack. Her body was tense, and she was mentally was on edge. Immobile, she sat there, waiting for something to happen. It was stupid. She tried to teach herself that waiting for advantages to come in life was ridiculous, and she definitely did not retain patience.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Bucky leaned towards her face, and because of the frigid temperatures, she felt every warm breath against her neck. She wanted to scream and beat her fists onto the pavement. Unfortunately, the second it came it was gone; he applied a tender, tiny kiss to the bridge of her nose.
Tease.
And then that damn smile. He rolled off of her, and watched the traffic light's colors swap out. Placing his hands behind his head as a pillow, he did his best to focus on the altering colors. "Hey, C?"
She turned her head so they made contact, "Yeah, B?" Her voice cracked due to distress. Celia was terrified.
But of what?
He rolled his eyes to the nickname, "What happens if a car comes?" The light turned red, signaling that they were currently safe.
"We die." she said the statement with no humor laced in her voice. Trembling, she pushed back her soaked, wet hair that was sticking to her pale face. His arm wrapped around her shoulders the best it could. She felt him shrug, as if he didn't care about dying.
I hate love, I hate love, I hate love.
"What's up? You're not usually like this."
"I know," her voice cracked again. It was like she was in pain; gravity was pulling her so far deep into the earth's surface. Her lip quivered. Sometimes it's a struggle to keep scary feelings inside of you. "I just — I — "
Beep!
Celia didn't often scream when she was scared, because she wasn't scared of things regularly. She just lay there, dumbfounded, mouth gaped open. Her mind was racing, constantly shooting questions at itself. What's up with me tonight? The car wheel was a centimeter from her face as Bucky yanked her from the street, their bodies clashing once again. He laughed like the two best friends commonly did, grinning into the crook of her neck as he embraced her. She was holding on to him for dear life. "C," he laughed. "Are you... holy cow," he ran his hands through his hair, still smiling. "Are you alright?"
A tear slid down the side of her face, but that wasn't the significance. It was what the tear represented. . . the beginning of her suffering. Almost. How much she was going to go through, the immense, excruciating pain ready to drop itself on her shoulders. The worst part, however, was that she somehow knew. The night had given her horrid vibes. That was the thing about perturbation, nobody could find accurate words for it. She sat up as he held her, and glanced up in his eyes, and just for a moment, she found passion in the world of anxiety.
