Chaleureux

December 2, 2011

Finn's hand is warm and gentle, a comfort in the bitingly cold weather. You swing his hand playfully while roaming the many shops lining the boardwalk. The bright lights from the windows shine on you and illuminate the snow crunching under your boots. Finn lets out a breath of air, and it materializes in wisps of white. You watch them curl away into nothing and puff out a cloud of your own. As it disappears, you glance at Finn and giggle a bit at the childish action.

He sees you admiring the candy shop display and takes you inside. The warm air envelopes you in a pleasant embrace. A faint sugary scent lingers in the shop, sweet and tempting. You pull Finn further into the store wearing a huge grin. There's rows and rows of lollipops and chocolate bars, and you'd honestly spend the whole night running around all that chocolate, but Finn reels you back, saying, "Lina, seriously. No more candy."

You look at him, exasperated. "But it's on sale! Half-off-the best offer we'll ever get!"

"It's not convincing if you're only reading off of the sign." Finn laughs, and adds, "All right, then. But don't go crying to me when you gain five pounds from all those Twix."

You glare at Finn fiercely, but pull him back outside in the freezing night. Two streets down, he gives you a stupid grin, complete with mischievous blue eyes. He waves a Hersey bar above your head, just out of reach, and you're about ready to punch him.

#

December 13, 2011

All you see are strangers wearing black suits and sorrowful faces. You stand beside Finn as he stares at nothing with a cold and empty face. Looking at him makes you anxious. He's supposed to be warm and comforting and full of life. Seeing him now reminds you of an empty house and broken windows. It just makes you worry more.

Countless family members and friends pass by. They tearfully whisper words of sympathy and condolences. They solemnly pat him on the shoulder with heavy hands. All the while, Finn just nods and thanks them quietly.

You notice his hands are shaking slightly. Touching his arm gently, you say, "Let's go outside for some air."

He says nothing, just grabs your hand and lets you pull him through the doors. You stop by the coat rack and hand him his coat, then put on your own. He takes your hand again and steps out of the mortuary.

The air outside is cold, and there's not a breeze to ruffle your hair. On other days, you would be grateful for the lack of wind, but today, the stillness around you is eerie and uncomfortable.

Finn lets go of your hand and stares up at the sky. "Thanks... For getting me out of there."

"No problem." The words drift in the air awkwardly as the silence between you and he grows deeper.

"You wanna talk about it?" you say, facing him.

He doesn't meet your gaze. "What? About my mom?"

"Mhm."

"No."

"You should talk about it with someone. It's not good to keep it bottled up."

"I said I don't want to."

"Please. I don't like seeing you like this, Finn." You step in front of him and place your hand on his cheek. He closes his eyes and turns to press his lips in your palm.

"I don't want to talk about my dead mother right now, Lina. I'm sorry," he mumbles into your hand.

You say nothing, just stroke his cheek lightly. He holds onto the hand on his face for a moment, then pushes it away. He leaves and goes back inside without another word. As you watch his receding back, you realize, too late, that his hand still shook badly. It was too unusually cold, too, and devoid of the comfort it so embodied.

#

December 24, 2011

It's late at night when you're walking home from a Christmas party. Snow starts to drift down, but you don't really care. The little crystals are cold when they land on your face, and it only brings annoyance.

It's been over a week since you last saw Finn. His silence worries you to the point where you can't eat or sleep. Truth be told, you only went to that party in hopes that Finn would show up. And yet, you've wandered to his street anyway.

You sigh, and the breath fogs up in a white cloud. Seeing that makes your throat tighten and your eyes water a bit. You yearn for Finn's warm hand and gleaming eyes and tight embrace. For his kind words and his stupid grin that always infuriated you, but you secretly loved. Your throat is too tight now, and your vision blurs as tears pool in your eyes. It takes all your will to keep them from falling.

Taking a deep breath, you call Finn and hope it doesn't go straight to voicemail. You hear five rings before he picks up.

"Hello?" His voice is ragged and broken.

"Finn, it's me," you say roughly.

There's silence on the other line, then, "Yeah, I know. Caller ID."

You laugh a little. "Can we meet up for a bit? I'm outside your place."

"It's late, I don't know."

"I'm only asking for ten minutes. I haven't seen you in forever. I'm getting really worried, you know."

He sighs heavily. "Sorry. Yeah, okay, I'll be right out."

You stand there, heart pounding. When you hear the door opening and closing, you're so nervous you can't even turn around to look at him. It's not until his crunching footsteps are right next to you that you quickly glance up at Finn. He catches the look and smiles.

"Are you okay? You look well for a person who's shut themselves inside their apartment for a week," you say, looking away from him.

Finn chuckles. "I've been better. You look cold."

"Damn right I am." You see he's bundled in a blanket. "Lemme get in there, too," you say, and elbow your way into the warmth. You wrap your arms around Finn as he tucks the blanket around your shoulders.

The both of you stay that way in silence for a moment. You finally feel at peace, being able to hear Finn's steady, strong heartbeat. You tighten your embrace and feel Finn hugging back, too. You giggle a little.

"I missed you," you mumble into his shirt.

He kisses the top of your head and says, "Merry Christmas."