𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

35 - Promises.

Morning lit the spark that ignited the pain by his skull, the new day’s familiar warmth and light ushering him to awaken. For some reason, he could feel the prior night’s embrace become a vicious throttle to the perspective of his body. His scalp ached, and it felt as if his brain was throbbing erratically, as if every part of him refused to move an inch to avoid the looming sensation of pain.

But beds don’t usually have heartbeats, do they?

Or arms that secured him from leaving them. Or fingers that wove into the soft, occasional curls of his hair whenever it's about to cover his eyes with such velveteen care.

Aiden felt the hand sweep up the falling strands once again, and before it could leave, he caught it gently with his own and held it for a while. When a pair of lips affectionately kissed his temple, Aiden made his consciousness clear by shifting against the person beside him.

“Look at you,” Elsa whispers, caressing her lover’s cheek. She sighs, and continues her velveteen touch on his scalp as he rests against her neck. “Those eyes. That smile. Every bit of you.”

“What about them?” Aiden murmured, his ear pressed against her heart.

“They hardly tell me anything about you,” Her voice broke, then she made him face her, a protective storm brewing in her blue orbs. “Anything that happened to you before I met you. Before I made you mine without knowing why you looked so lost last night.”

The blonde’s last two words rang a bell in him, their prominence shoving back the whirlwind of events that gave more life to Aiden’s shame.

“Anything that can tell me how I can help you and make it all better.”

“I don't think I can be helped,” Aiden chuckled mirthlessly, “Or fixed.”

“Aiden—you’re not broken. Or for fixing.”

“Except I am, Elsa.”

He didn't exactly do anything. He just allowed the blizzard swirling in his mind to swallow an image of him trying to trudge through the snow too soon. His thoughts had betrayed his composure to the point he forgot to exclude her name from his bitter expense.

Elsa saw his panic showing through his expression and squeezed his hand, but it came far faster. The greens of his eyes looked ready to bawl out of guilt like a weeping leaf in May. While the sight broke Elsa’s heart, it also stirred her to mend his own.

“D-darl, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

Her voice cut his apology short, the sharp steel in her timing rivaling the cotton in her comfort. “Did you hear your voice at all?”

Aiden didn’t respond, the blonde’s question silencing him with enlightenment.

She made him sit, fixing herself in the same position as him afterwards. Aiden’s stare was limited to only his feet, the courage to speak far from his plans. Her touch slowly crept inch by inch to his hand, and a comforting electricity surged from her skin to his like a fire that is unable to burn anything. The sensation assured him, stayed with him, smiled at him,

Cried with him.

The gates of his heart broke, little by little; welcoming brief, violent glimpses of a boy maturing in the gray, but never growing in a place of color. A weed wanting to be a rose. A cloud wanting to be the sun, but the sky wants it to instead pour rain.

A vase that longs for flowers, but can never have them.

His breath began to shudder, while a watery sheen began to take over his eyes. He dropped everything as he allowed a tear to cascade down his cheek, demolishing the wall between him and his composure.