𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 ( 𝑬𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒐)

𝒏𝒊𝒏e

A steaming mug of hot tea is the perfect antidote for any horrible thoughts, Willow is convinced that someone must have slipped some kind of sedative into her favourite, loose leave tea.

After only a little sip of the beverage, Ethans tense shoulders slack and he slumps deeper into the cushions of Willows couch.

They haven't said a word since they got home, Willow wordlessly made her way into the kitchen to boil the water and look for the tin box of assorted chocolates that she and Ada binge on whenever it's their time of the month.

Ethan stood in the hallway, head still spinning from the encounter they just had, not able to kick of his shoes and strip out of his coat until Pip rubbed her head against his calfs repeatedly, bringing him out of his stupor.

"Are you okay?", Willow breaks the silence, nervously chewing on her thumb nail, watching him through observant eyes.

"Better now that we are back inside", he admits with a weak smile that that does not manage to fool the girl.

She lowers her hand into her lap and instead starts to bite the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she had since high school, Ada always scolds her for it but Willow just can't seem to drop it.

"I get it now, I mean I think I do.", she begins and takes another sip of her tea,before she continues.

"Always being on guard wherever you go, it must be so exhausting, you feel like a fox, ruthlessly hunted down by the hounds wherever you go", she resumes her small speech and doesn't fail to see how Ethans expression darkens once she has finished.

"It's not always this bad", he murmurs, but recently it's been  more like a nightmare than a dream.

Willow suddenly shakes her head violently and places her mug on the coffee table, looking Ethan straight in the eyes.

"Whenever you feel like being hunted down, remember you always have a foxhole to hide in, even with Ada here our door always will be open for you", she speaks honestly and Ethan has to restrain himself from dropping his mug on the floor and crushing Willow in a hug.

He can't bring himself to hug her, he might not be able to let her go, so he just nods and smiles, again it fails to light up his face.

His heart grows heavy, it is clear to him that he can't see Willow again soon, tonight is the last night he is going to get with her.

Maybe good things, like Willow, can only happen in moderation. He had her for a week, and maybe that was all he deserved.

All they got was a week and someday Ethan will be okay with that.

A week is better than nothing,

Willows kindness touched his soul in parts he never knew he possessed, he is convinced that she'll be engraved inside of it forever, claiming a spot he knows no one will ever be able to replace.

Like ember, faintly glowing even after the fire has long gone out.

A mental picture of her, looking at him with honest eyes is clearer than any photo he could have taken, maybe he prefers it that way.

Keeping her only in his memories so no prying eyes could glance at her, not the way he remembers.

The ticking clock on the kitchen wall, that Ethan can see from his spot on the couch mocks him.

With every second that passes, the time of his departure creeps closer.

And Willow doesn't know.

Suddenly there are so many things he wants to say to her but nothing seems important enough to take up the little time they still have. So he ends up saying nothing.

They sit in silence, Willow is at a loss for words because Ethans sad, dark eyes are like sinking holes and she feels like she is being dragged right into them.

Both are wondering how sadness can become so thick that you feel suffocated by it.

"I always like to paint when I am upset, it's probably not your prefered way to chase away the blues but I don't happen to own a drumkit", Willow eventually smirks, finally deciding that there is no way she can endure the heavy silence one more second.

Without giving him the chance to say anything,she orders him to get a box of her paints and brushes from her bedroom, while she brews some more tea and lays out a layer of old newspaper on the ground, to protect the old wood from being paint splattered.

Ethan feels weird, stepping into Willows room. He has never set foot in there and feels like an intruder, even though she told him to go in.

It might be a strange thing to say but the room looks exactly how he imagined it. Pale blue walls, decorated with various drawings and sketches, hanging next to photographs and old ticket strips, some faded from time.

At first he hesitates to open the drawers of her dresser but when he hears her shuffle around in the living room again, he knows that he has to hurry because he dosen't want to seem like a creep, looking around her room.

Collecting the things, he believes they'll need to creat art, he shuts the drawer again and smiles weakly once he has overlooked her room for the last time. It represents Willow so well and it makes him a little jealous that she can use it as a shelter whenever she  needs it to be.

Modern hotel rooms with large windows, looking over the city they are currently staying in always stripped of individuality, make him long for his own bedroom at home.

"Will you come out of your head and back to me?", Willow's voice sounds amused when she sees him standing in the hallway, just past the frame of her bedroom, looking spaced out.

Ethan shakes his head and sends his hair flying, laughing a little to shake off his thoughts.

God why does he get so stuck in his thoughts all the time.

She gives him a hand with the art supplies and motions for him to sit down on the ground, and then flopping down next to him.

Picking up a small canvas, that she wants to repaint since she hates the image that it currently adorns, she immediately goes to work.

Unlike Ethan, he seems a little lost and looks at her with a lost expression on his face, waiting patiently for more instructions.

"What am I supposed to do?", he asks when he realises that there won't be any more guidance from the blonde.

"Just do what feels right", she advises with a smirk and that was it, connecting her phone to the speakers, she plays her favourite songs to him, all so different to the music he makes but he listens to them all, trying to remember the titles to listen to them again once he is home.

For hours now they both just create, they don't really hold a conversation only exchanging a few words from time to time when it was necessary. Like the time Ethan nearly took a sip a from his paint water instead of his tea and Willow quickly intervened.

Struggling with the hair that seems to constantly fall into her eyes, Ethan notices her failed attempts at blowing it out of her face.
Since she is too absorbed in her creative flow, she can't stop to tie her hair back.

"Let me", he offers and uses the hair tie on his own wrist to gently braid it into a nice ponytail, that falls down her back.

She sighs when he starts braiding, enjoying the feeling of his hands in her hair so much that she stops painting for a while.

"It's not the best but it should hold it back for a while", he sheepishly smiles at her and leans back, creating distance between them again and Willow longs to feel his hands again just seconds after they leave her hair.

"Thank you", she leans over to peck his cheek, allowing herself a little more contact with the boy, even just for the brief moment her lips touch the delicate skin of his cheek.

This is what paradise must be like.

Being with a boy that paints with you, braids your hair and puts butterflies in your stomach, that fly around like crazy.