Dreaming of White ✔ [Completed]

Chapter 9 - Striped Socks & Golden Light

"I am not being unreasonable. You promised me hot water and a shower. So, I want my hot water and my shower."

There was only one thing that made it almost impossible even for the great Vansh Raisinghania to keep a straight face. And that was Riddhima looking up at him like that, eyes sparkling with energy— angry, challenging, reproachful, pleading, playful and a little amused. In its full glory, the mixture was an adorable sight.

He raised his eyebrows, crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned a little forward, deliberately pushing into her personal space and — daring to take it to the next level — poking her uninjured shoulder.

"Well, Riddhima, may I remind you, it took me less than 30 seconds to pick the lock."

Riddhima, taking a step towards him in defiance, raised her head and fixed her eyes firmly on his. Their noses were almost touching.

"Well, Vansh, may I remind you, it will take me less than 30 seconds to kick your butt."

He drew back a little, straightened his back and let out a long sigh of annoyance.

"Remind me again: How is the power-outage my fault exactly?"

Riddhima gave him a sweet smile.

"Everything is your fault."

"Ah. Of course it is. How foolish of me to forget."

He scoffed, unfolded his arms, let his hands slide into the pockets of his by now uncomfortably damp jacket and looked down to his lace-less boots, before his face could betray him and tell her that he actually enjoyed this.

Which she probably knew anyway.

They stood in the middle of a dark room, dark silhouettes against slightly less dark surroundings, outlines of furniture and boarded-up windows bleeding into shadows of different furniture, walls and corners. The air was cold and smelled like damp and bleach and air freshener and wood and rotten leaves and emptiness all at once. It was a strange smell, not artificial, but not natural either. It was almost more creepy in here, Riddhima thought, than it had been out there in the white wilderness. After spending all this time outside, being in a confined space made her suddenly feel a little uneasy. Not exactly claustrophobic, but not exactly relaxed either. She thought there was movement in the shadows, waves of darkness rolling along the wood and the stone, reaching out to them, then recoiling, once they realised a living being had entered their territory.

She knew it was only her eyes playing tricks on her. Once they had adjusted to the new lighting-conditions she'd be fine.

Well, fine-ish.

Vansh started moving back towards the front door.

"Where are you going?", she asked.

"Trying to see if I can get the generator to work. So we can have electricity for the boiler. So you can have your hot shower. And I can get some peace and quiet."

"And what do you know about fixing generators?"

"Ah, more than you might think, Riddhima. I'll just have a quick look."

And with that he headed back outside into the snow, closing the door behind him.

Riddhima stood in the dark room, the sudden silence within it deafening and strange. Her brain, not being able to cope with the quiet, replaced it with a high-pitched white noise, that was equally uncomfortable, though a little more familiar. It was cold in the room, not as freezing as it was outside, but not warm enough to make a difference to her cold feet and prickling skin and numb fingers. She stayed where she was for another moment, stunned, because beneath the silence and the cold lingered a very sudden, very unexpected and absolutely ridiculous feeling of loss.