"Three words."
"I love you?"
"Don't get your hopes up."
"That was five..."
"Shut up!"
"That was two."
"I give up!"
"Now THAT was three."
"Those weren't the words!"
"Well, spit 'em out, then!"
"Happy New Years..."
***
He watched her from inside the house, her slender figure outlined by the city-lit night sky. He walked up behind her, his footsteps masked by the passing train. He stood behind her at an angle, close enough for her to easily hear him, but just out of her peripheral vision. "It's starting to rain harder."
She didn't turn. She wasn't startled by his voice. She never was. She simply nodded and said, "Yeah."
He reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair out of her face. She wore it in a bob, fearing that any shorter and people would mistake her for a boy, and any longer and it would be a nuisance. "Just like you," she would often joke, punching him teasingly in the arm. Any other day, she would have become angered by him. But tonight, she simply looked up at the grey sky, opening her mouth to hide her smile.
Four years, he thought to himself. Four years of living together and we're still not comfortable around each other.
They had lived together for four years, known each other since grade school, him in fifth and her in fourth. They shared a room, but not a bed. She was scared, and he was loyal. He knew how he felt about her, but she didn't know how she felt about him. She still didn't, and he often feared she never would.
He walked back inside, returning a few minutes later, umbrella in one hand, towel in other. "Why do you do this to yourself?"
She flinched at the words, almost as if they inflicted physical harm. But he knew they didn't. He had seen her in physical pain, and he never wanted to see her hurt like that again.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" The words echoed in her mind. He would say this often. On nights when it rained, she would stand outside in her clothes, staring into the darkness, allowing the rain to plaster her clothes and hair to her thin body. He would always come out and try to make her go back inside, and every time, he would say those words: "Why do you do this to yourself?"
She often asked herself the same question.
He sighed. She still wouldn't take the towel. Holding his breath, he pressed the cloth against her hair, trying to dry her as best he could. He shook his head as she flicked her hand at him, trying to slap his hands away. "I can do it myself," she snapped.
"Then do it," he said, tossing the towel at her. She caught it, and watched him with pleading eyes as he walked back inside, umbrella thumping against his leg.
She faced back towards the shadows, the towel still hanging limp in her hands. She lifted it to her face, catching the tears from the memories that seemed to collapse inside her brain whenever it rained. Especially tonight.
***
She walked inside later that night. Glancing at the clock, she made her way to their room. She looked at her bed, and then at his, where the outline of his body could be seen facing the wall. She walked towards him, letting the towel drop, and stood by his bed.
"Are you awake?"
He grunted.
"I have something to say. You know what today is, right?"
She saw him nod slowly. She took a deep breath. "Three words."
He turned, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "Happy New Years?"
She shook her head. "Not quite." And she laid down on the bed.
"I love you..."
And for the first time, they slept in the same bed.
