The Prince and The Wolf

XLII

Chapter 42: Autumn

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Min had been walking around the area. It was a Sunday, and she had been trying to get some things figured out. Unwinding all of the things that have happened, looking at them through a new lens. She was just strolling around aimlessly, admiring how blue the sky was.

Before she knew it, she had stumbled into a familiar neighborhood. Quickly spotting Carl's house, she realized that she had absentmindedly brought herself here. Her face flushed in embarrassment. Before she could sprint away, the guy she had been thinking about came out of his house.

He turned and spotted her.

All thoughts of leaving vanished from her head.

The leaves of the trees shadowed his face, his green eyes contrasting the leaves' colors. Flames. A fire in her heart. He blinked, and she had begun walking towards him. She picked up a red leaf.

She held it against his face, smiling instantaneously, her eyes like crescent moons.

"Red against green, what a beautiful contrast."

He understood none of what she was saying, stunned as he looked at her silly smile. She was wearing a white scarf. He didn't expect her, he didn't expect her to come up and hold a leaf against his face at all.

He smiled. Grinned. Laughed.

How could he expect it at all?

Her breath was taken away. She wanted to paint it. This scene. She wanted it in her memory, she wanted it to be stuck there permanently. Her heart was beating recklessly.

His hand held hers, as he examined the leaf, turning it from side to side. His slight smile, she wanted to reach out and touch it. So, she did, and she noticed the cut on his lip, rubbing her finger slightly against it. She glanced up and noticed his eyes were on her again.

She didn't bother to move her hand and neither did he bother to push it away.

"Why do you fight?" The words had fallen out of her mouth.

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Why did he fight?

That was an interesting question. In what case was she talking about? What was he fighting? He was battling many things. And right now, he was battling this feeling tugging in his chest.

Was she asking him of the motive, or the reasoning behind it? What did he fight for? The money. The reason why he fights? The reason why he had started?

He led her inside the house.

How could he tell her?

He didn't know how, but he wanted to. Someone can keep the memories for him, and when his mind blurs once again, she will be there to tell him.

They sat on his sofa.

"I cannot forgive." He began hesitantly. Was it here, at this time, the right moment? Was it the right place? Surrounded by all this history? "Sometimes, I forget."

She had been looking at the leaf in her hand. "Is it painful to remember?" She inquired carefully, softly. "Is that why you forget?"

Slowly, he nodded.

She held out her hand, laying it on the sofa next to him. "You are going to remember now, right?"

He took her hand, held it. "Yes."