Tall Tales

- 13 -

T H I R T E E N

..... ..... ...

Porcelain Doll

________________________

He felt it – a sharp twinge in his chest. How could he not as the girl in front of him crumbled away. So frail and fragile she was – the most precious, the most beautiful porcelain doll. He dared not to touch her, it was as if she was no longer one with the world he was in. Astray in sorrows, lost in tears. So gently, he whispered.

"Caoimhe," he hesitated. He knew asking if she was okay was a fool's question. But her blue eyes were already fixed at him. Clear, the shade never failed to bring him back to the days when they were still kids living near the seaside. His heart gave another painful squeeze as he noted the red rimming her eyes. That was probably what prompted him to utter, "I'm here, I'm here," he whispered like it's a chant.

In that instant, she flung herself into his arms. He circled his arms around her, they still fit like a glove. One hand on her back, rubbing slow and soothing circles, while the other found its grip on her luscious brown locks – so dark they were near black.

His sweet, broken angel. His damsel in distress. It pains him that he's not her knight in a shining armor. That role had been filled by Aode. He's fairly sure that any minute now Aode would come barging into the confines of these four beige walls with concerned eyes and creased brows. He too had a key, after all.

She should've been born elsewhere. Within a kind and caring family that she always needed. Those purple marks and red welts shouldn't be marring her back. He had to be careful where he put his hand, a little further to the north and she'd give a sharp cry of pain.

True to what he'd predicted, the lock in the door turned and there he was. A look of understanding passed between the two males. Thank you, his eyes seemed to be saying, for taking care of my most precious jewel. He just didn't know how precious she was to him as well.

"Niamh," she clutched the front of his tee.

"Aode is here," he told her. The hand on her hair moved to unclasp her fingers from its tight grip. He didn't really know what exactly had happened afterwards, but they were both sitting with her hands in his. Her watery blue eyes were saying silent gratitudes and his own hazel ones were trying to express comfort – you'll be okay, you may not be right now, but you will, one day, you will. At some point in time, Aode had made himself a place beside her. His arm reached out for her and Niamh called it his cue to leave.

The walk to the door felt like a lifetime. The wringing sensation in his heart didn't stop. He knew exactly what he ought to do – open the door, close it, and lock it from the outside. Yet, he paused by the door a moment before letting it fall shut. Imprinting the image of the unsteady rise and fall of her back while she bawled her eyes out inside a pair of strong arms, onto a familiar chest. And in his eyes it was him holding her tightly. It was him instead, soothing her, comforting her. He knew that it wouldn't take long before sleep and exhaustion would claim her, and those spasmodic rise and fall would turn slow and steady.

He sighed and let the door clicked shut. She would never know. He would never tell her. She belonged to someone now. Someone who also cared deeply for her. Aode could and would make her happy. And that's enough. Her happiness was all he cared for in the world. He turned the key, once, twice, and pocketed the metal into his jeans.

My sweet, precious porcelain doll. You may never know, but this I know.

If you jump, I would be holding the rope that tethers you to the surface just in case you jumped into a pit – so that you wouldn't plunge into the vast drop. If you fall, I would tug and pull you back up until you can stand on your own two feet again. If you rise, I would stand back and let you claim the throne you so deserve. Never in a million years would I dream of holding you back.

His vision blurred. His chest ached. His feet moved on itself and took him to his flat. He knew he was at his flat, but it didn't feel like his flat at all. No, this felt like where they grew up. The sound of the waves hitting the sandy beach was like a lull in his head. The salty smell and the clammy air welcomed him. Without his body's will, the dam inside him broke. Tears ran in rivulets down his cheeks and he gave a loud, pained cry as he clutched his chest where his heart spasmed painfully.

Never out of sight, but ought to be out of mind.

He just hoped that his will was strong enough to make that into reality.

A/N: First and foremost, sorry it's kinda sad (and super clichéd) :(

Let me guess, what's up with the names??? Yeaapp, long story short, I've been watching Saoirse Ronan's interviews and... I just got hooked with the one where she pronounced 'difficult' names! Btw the main plot was that one long thought of Niamh's, if you wanna know.

This was done quite recently (last May), and I'm quite proud to present you another non-randomness~ (re: it's been titled Porcelain Doll since day 1)

Btw, it's back up again! I can copy-paste from my notes yay!

Post Scriptum

The name Niamh means a bright man, while the name Caoimhe means lovely, comely, gently, and the name Aode means complete and powerful. It just crossed my mind that different sources might offer different meanings... hm...

Love eternally,
Caera Keane