𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

63 - Abodes.

Only then his eyes could feel when window glass altered into paper—where distorted, gaudy lines dramatically weaved everything he thought of as a boy reveling in a painted daydream. Acrylics merged to morph the Cornelias surrounding the reverie, and warmth would etch every brick and door to embody a homely oak. As if silence heard his plea, aquarelle pigment scattered; molding a baroque fountain reflecting the pale sky. The sight followed his gaze, simultaneously intimidating and welcoming. As if he had always arrived home to it everyday.

But he didn’t. 

But it’s there.

And he’s here now.

Aiden isn’t trembling. At least, he thinks he isn’t. It’s just that his hands cannot convince the heavy wave of tremors to stop coming and causing him to look like an idiot. His embarrassment only extended, realizing he is still sitting on his car seat after Elsa and little Claire have already done their part to step out of the static Benz.

He couldn’t waste any more time however when the ever so dutiful Kai offered a limb towards his direction long before his fiancée did, although it does feel less awkward to accept the latter’s. After finally departing from the vehicle (and his chagrin) Elsa raised his hand to her lips so she could peck the back of it, watching his expression carefully as she did to make sure all traces of anxiety would leave his face. She knew how important this was for him, how much this meant to him.

“T-thank you.” His response was simple, his gratitude mingling with his accelerated breathing, “I’m going to mess this up big time, aren’t I?”

Elsa shook her head in defiance of his claim. “Nobody’s going to mess up anything tonight darling. I may not be in your shoes…”

“I’m literally shaking in mine.”

“He’s your dad. Baby, you’re in for a ‘nevertheless’ kind of deal, something you have nothing to be nervous about. I can’t even see a reason why tonight can go wrong, because I think you’re absolutely perfect,” She murmured the last part, “And he will too. Just be you.”

“Uh, well darl,” Aiden’s voice was filled with uncertainty as he watched his fiancée gather her straying four-year-old between her arms, “How do I put this. I think, I’m beginning to be less jumpy with that particular... Situation. The feeling is still indefinite, but, let’s just say I’m quite terrified with something else.”

“Come on, you can tell me what it is,” Elsa softly encouraged.

An observant Claire looked up to her mother out of concern. “Mama, is Papa okay?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure, sweetheart. You should hold his hand too.”

“Okayyy.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. I’m alright,” Aiden weakly smiled, bending down to the little girl’s height to briefly give her an assuring hug, “Papa’s just not sure how he should talk with his own Mama.”

“Aww. Why?” Claire asked, her crestfallen tone nearly convincing Elsa the child could really relate.

“We had a big fight, cookie.”

The young blonde sorrowfully frowned upon Aiden’s answer, alarming Elsa even more.

“Oh. I once fought with Mama and told her to go away,” The more the child prattled on, the smaller her voice went in shame, “I made Mama cry for a long time. I wasn’t very nice too.”

Elsa sighs sadly and hoists the mumbling child to her arms, kissing her sandy head as an attempt to quiet her whimpers. “Shh, don’t cry, pumpkin. That wasn’t your fault, that was Mama’s. You didn’t do anything wrong. And Mama told you to forget about that day, it’s not good for you.”