Jackunzel Drabbles (The Original)

Of Candles and Thunderstorms

The candle light flickered, casting shadows on his blank walls. The silhouettes of furniture danced with every flash of lightening. The power had been out for an hour now, the storm took out the lines as soon as he got home. He had half a mind to leave again, just to be free of the boredom. Not that he had cable or anything. His apartment was actually very empty. It was a large studio loft, the kitchen met the bedroom and living room. The entrance was a large sliding metal door, the inside looks just as horribly urban.

He had lot all the candles he had, placing them around the place so he could see. The rain slamming against the windows and fire escape was all that he had to listen to, his iPod had died as well. The worst of it all was trying to wrap his hand without proper light.

Blue eyes glared down at his fist, blood had began to soak through the white wrap as he tried to get it tight enough. Tonight had been one of those fights that he won but got his ass kicked as well. He had enough money for rent though and that’s all that mattered. He winced as he took the end of the wrap between his teeth to straighten it out before continuing. He could feel the places around his ribs and cheek bone where he knew bruises would appear tomorrow morning.

Another crash of thunder, a flash of lightening.

Candles flickered.

He tucked the end of the wrap in, his other hand was already done thank god. He flexed his hands, making fists. Seemed good for now. Probably had to have Hiccup check him out for any broken ribs or damage.

Knock knock knock knock!

The series of hard knocks, all one right after the other made him jump. He turned and looked at the metal door, eyes narrowed. He stood up from his place on the ground, slowly making his way towards the door. His muscles moved like a predator, his feet were quiet like a dancer; years of fighting gave his body and reflexes an edge most didn’t have.

Knock knock knock knock!

He reached for a baseball bat by the coat rack, picking it up with a trained arm. Hiccup was home and so was Merida. No one else ever knocked on his door, no one with good intentions at least. He unlatched the door before sliding it open, bat up at his waist for quick use. His eyes widened.

In front of him was the petite blonde next door. She wore a large t-shirt that ended at mid thigh, her hair was out and fell down her back in golden waves, green eyes big and frightened like a deer. He would see her on her fire escape painting or taking a nap. She was beautiful, her lone candle in front of her only made her features illuminate in the darkness. She was bare foot and he was pretty sure that there was nothing under that night shirt. He blinked.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking up and down the dark hallway.

She had never spoken a word to him except a passing hello or ‘how was your day’ at the mail boxes. Sometimes they’d talk about their days from their fire escapes. As much as he wished to get to know her, she had always been untouchable to him. Like an expensive suit you could never afford so you try not to look at it. She was too bright, too beautiful and good to be near him. He was far too hard, far too damaged. He tended to ruin good things.

Her hands shook around her little pink candle, “Y-yes..” She squeaked. A crash of thunder and another sharp flash of lightening made her jump, a small cry escaped her lips, “N-no.”

His face softened and he pushed the metal door farther open, moving out of the way and gestured her to come inside. She walked by him with a grateful smile, yet her shoulders were still hunched in fear. He couldn’t believe the woman had come to him of all people to seek comfort. He had seen plenty of guys over the last year seeing her off at the door or leaving heart broken. She obviously didn’t lack friends, so why him?