Her tanned and capable fingers twisted the bit of twine into varying shapes; a heart, a flower, a spiral. She had found it on a gift bag she had been given earlier by a friend. The candy was now eaten, the cheap pencil and thin plastic bag thrown away... the twine was all that was left.
"So", she asked, still twisting away, "what are your plans? I mean, it's almost the start of the New Year, and we're failures if we don't yield to our own unreasonable resolutions for the first couple days of it, right? And no one wants to piss off society." She rolled her eyes, which up to this point, were comically wide in mock sincerity.
He loved this side of her, the deadpan voice and the joking way in which she regarded anything and everything.
"Well, I don't know," he said, a beautiful smile lighting up his eyes. " I might just stay at home, reading." He looked at her, drinking up every feature that she called hers. Her thick dark hair, feeling softer than it looked; those brown eyes, turning cold and hard whenever she wasn't pleased; the small but plump lips, now chapped by the cold wind; her body, shapeless under the 6 layers of clothes that she wore this time of year. Her hair, although it wasn't as long as most girls', spilled out over her shoulders, sandwiched between her cap and her hunched shoulders. She wasn't beautiful by most standards, but in this moment, he saw her as a figure that was necessary to life. He needed her.
When he had been thrown out of his house by his single, abusive father, exactly one year earlier, she had been the one to find him, huddled in an alley, shivering and chewing on his fingers. Others had passed him before, but she was the only one that actually approached him and taken care of him. She had dragged him to a hospital, despite being a full head shorter than him, and sent him into the emergency room, where he was diagnosed with pneumonia. She had visited him every day while he was filed for adoption. They both knew he had a very small chance of finding a home, the cause being his age. None came. Finally, when he turned 18 a few months later, he left the orphanage and rented out an apartment close to her house. She had been there through his depression, stopping him when he tried to go in his house to spend the weekend alone, and kept all sharp objects out of his reach, smoothing over any pain he was in with her sarcasm and joking. She had saved his life.
And now, as he gazed at her, he realized just how lucky he was that she
was standing by his side. His face turned serious for a moment, and he took the twine away from her, his hand lingering over hers for a moment. She quieted for the first time in a few hours. Even she could sense that something about this atmosphere was different. She took the silence to take in his dark brown hair, always better looking than hers, the green eyes that laughed when they saw her, the flawless pale skin that she had laid her hand on that cold evening exactly one year prior. She had missed the laughing green eyes during his depression, so she had done her best to protect them from the darkness that surrounded them whenever the depression got too serious. She had succeeded. Even now, she gazed into his eyes, watching them seem to take all the dim winter light they could find and shine it back out to her.
He leaned forward hesitating slightly before lowering his lips onto hers. She was surprised. This was her first kiss, but it was obvious that it was his as well. He halted after about 2 seconds of awkwardly sitting there with their mouths touching. He sat back quickly and scratched his head.
"Umm... I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'll go now." He made to leave the park bench that they were sitting on, but was stopped by her small hand. She looked at him with her twinkling eyes that seemed to say "Let's try this again."
So they did.
The cold disappeared and was absorbed into the sweet kiss. All the while, they held hands, twisting the bit of twine into different shapes, passing it back and forth.
Years later, he still had the piece of twine. Now it was tied into a ring shape, which he had tied the night before around her finger. He carefully took it off, and slipped it into his pocket. She hadn't noticed a thing, as they still carried the tradition of twisting that small bit of wire whenever they were together. He had driven to the jewelry store the next town over, as the news would have spread too quickly in their own tiny town.
He browsed through the rings, knowing she wouldn't want something traditional, skipping the diamonds altogether. He scratched the small amount of stubble he had unknowingly grown over the past month or so, pondering whether or not she would actually like one of these. Then he saw it. A saleswoman was quickly called over, it was resized according to the trusty piece of twine, and the purchase was made.
He could hear her car being parked outside, and he quickly calmed his thoughts. He swept his eyes across his apartment. It was small, but still neat and orderly. The food was on the table, without much ado. He wanted to keep it a secret until the last possible moment.
There came her calling his name out to let her in out of the cold air. He laughed and pulled her inside and hugged her to his body, engulfing her in his tall frame. She was still very petite compared to him, but he didn't mind. He liked that he could scoop her up in his arms, sheltering her from the cruel world. She would never admit it, but she enjoyed being wrapped in his strong arms just as much.
There was nothing different about this date than any others they had. he lifted her up and put her on his feet and swung his legs all the way to the kitchen, where he held out the chair for her and sat across the table. They asked each other about their day, and chat about all the funny things they had seen that day. They would hold hands and eat. Sometimes, when they were eating fried chicken or something equally messy, they would go right back to holding hands.
"It's the same food, isn't it?" was her excuse.
Tonight, he had prepared pasta, but he couldn't even taste it. He was ready... to back out. But now she took the bottle of wine that she had brought out of its sleeve, shaking it a bit and grinning mischievously.
"Aren't we forgetting something?"
That small pure bit of her was all it took to break out his confidence. He smiled as she went to the cupboards to take down the wine glasses. When she had her back turned, he reached in his jeans pocket and drew out the small black velvet box. Again, skipping tradition, he stayed in the chair, facing her back. When she made her way back to the table, holding a glass in each hand, he opened the box, and glass shattered.
He yelled, jumping up to make sure she was alright. She was already in her chair again, examining the ring in the box.
The band was silver with a marquise cut sapphire as the centerstone. It was small and simple, but elegant and beautiful, just like her. She didn't cry, she didn't forcefully nod her head while reaching for the ring. She, as she had always been, was calm and collected as she look right into his eyes, imagined the wonderful life they would have together, and smiled. Just like that, they were engaged, amid the glass shards that covered the floor but could not harm them.
He glanced across at her, feeling the warm rays of her presence, just as he had, and just as he always would. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying their meal. It wasn't until later when they noticed that no words had been spoken at that time. It didn't matter. None were needed.
A/N: Hey guys! This is my first story, so I hope you enjoyed reading :) Please leave comments. I'm always looking to improve my writing, so constructive criticism is great. I think that's all for now, but make sure to read my other ongoing story, Mr. Dawson and Miss Abbott!
