peculiar winds

"I know you want to cry... go ahead!"

Of course! It was the Gallagher's who had knocked on the door. I had forgotten about dinner! 

"Liz, clean yourself up a bit!" Mum left the room and ran downstairs to let in the whole lot; Jensen, his mum, dad, and younger brothers - George and Oliver. Hesitantly, I grabbed a rag, let some water run over it, and rubbed it against my legs. I didn't want to have any questions asked about my horrible appearance; I would start crying at the table!

"Gosh, have you felt the wind, Lisa?" Mrs. Gallagher asked, taking off her coat. 

"I haven't, but Liz did!"

"Elizabeth!" Jensen began to yell for me. You must be joking! Now that I was in my room, trying my hardest to quickly pull a jumper over my head, I was being called for non-stop! As quickly as I could, I smoothed down the wrinkles, and tussled my hair around a bit. I left my bedroom, and made my way down stairs -- eventually spotting Jensen. He watched me walk down, with a horribly concerned look on his face. Once I was down, he walked towards me, and lifted my chin up, proceeding to examine my face.

"Oh my god! Elizabeth, what has happened to you? You're all scratched-up." Jensen then brought his left hand to my hair, delicately inspecting a strand.

"You're soaked!" Frustrated, I forcefully pulled his hand off, and sauntered into the dining area -- ignoring his concerns. 

-- 

"Liz, are you well?" Mr. Gallagher asked. It must've been the bright red scratches scattered on my face, or the damp hazel hair. Maybe even the glimmer of tears in my sad brown eyes. 

"Um, I think so." I had my head in my hands; I was beginning to drift off. The wafts of takeaway Chinese food made me feel worse than I had already felt a few minutes ago. Plus, the table was quite loud, with all the clattering of the utensils, parents conversing, and Jensen's brothers yakking without end. My mind was spinning.

"So, how's Effie been?" Mum asked, spooning rice onto her plate. 

"She's been well, she bought a new flat, recently -- with a friend of her's."

"Wow! She's growing up so quick!" Their words were warping in my head. As time passed, the more queasy I became. Things felt blurry; the white takeaway boxes with small, red designs; the clock that ticked second-by-second; the pale blue paint, chipping off the wall; everything. The only thing I could feel were Jensen's troubled eyes, sharply pinned on me. He knew something was wrong. 

"Liz, are you sure you feel fine? You look a bit... off-colour." Mum's voice felt heavy. Though she waited for a response, I gave her nothing. Other than the hum of Radio 4 in the background, the room was tranquil, and all eyes were fastened on me. I rested my chin against my head and drew a long breath.

"I'm fine!" My tone felt choleric.

"Erhm, I'll take her out for some air." Jensen interrupted. With no hesitation, he grabbed me by my forearm, brought me out of my chair, and led me out the front door. He shut the door, and sat me down on the steps that led into the house.

"Ooh-wee, it's cold, innit?" Jensen folded his arms, trying to keep warm. 

"Do you need some water?" -- Jensen turned his head back towards the door. --"I can go get it, if you'd like." 

"No, no, no, it's fine. I've had too much water today anyways." I rested my head against the brick wall, drawing another breath. Jensen furrowed his brows.

"What do you mean?" Jensen paused. 

"Does this have anything to do with your hair? It's quite damp. And your skirt!" -- Jensen pinched at it -- "It's damp as well." I gazed at my skirt, and back to Jensen.

"Something really weird happened today." I pursed my lips.

"After... what Emily did today, I went down to the beach to sit down for a bit. And then, it got really, really windy. So I legged-it, but then..." -- I paused, trying to find the words to describe my near-death experience -- "I guess, the tide grew, and it came towards me, and I got stuck in it. I was drowning, and ingesting a bunch of water, but I was able to get out." Jensen's eyes-widened.

"So... you almost died?"

"Yup."

"Hm, that explains all the scratches. That's probably why you feel off!"

"Yeah, I feel awful. But, something else is bothering me." I felt warm tears rising in my eyes. Jensen turned his head a bit.

"What is it?" His voice softened. I could sense that his brotherly instincts were beginning to kick in, again.

"Well, when dad died," -- a deep pit was growing in my throat, and I was holding back tears -- "it was really windy as well, that's what caused the crash! I just feel like... like the accident just keeps coming back to haunt me, or something. And I keep on thinking about it." As I rambled on, my words ran faster; I was trying my best to avoid another cry fest!

"I don't know, I just feel really, really bad about myself, Jensen. I barely talked to dad before he died, and now I'm just guilty -- guilty all the time!" There was a slow pause, once again.

"Elizabeth, I know you want to cry... go ahead!" Jensen's voice was insistent. 

Suddenly, I had my head pressed against my knees, sobbing my eyes out for the second time in the same day.  But this time, I felt like my sorrows were really pouring out of me.

"Oh, Elizabeth, it's alright. You haven't done anything wrong." -- Jensen reassured me, resting his arm comfortably upon my shoulders. -- "You never knew what was gonna happen, but if you did, I'm sure you would have talked to him more." I continued to sob over his consolations, but he let it continue without any trouble. Another strong gust of wind blew.

"Gosh, are you cold? The weather's awful today; I could give you my jumper." He began to tug at his dark green uniform jumper.

"Jensen, I've already got one. You'll freeze!" That didn't stop him from pulling it off and offering it to me. 

"Come on, you're the one that almost died. You'll be better off with two!" A soft smile came upon his face. 

"Oh, fine." I chuckled, pulling the warm jumper over my head.

"Ah, that's better. We can sit out longer, if you'd like." I nodded. Jensen wrapped his arm around me once more, and rested his head against my shoulder.

As an only-child, Jensen had always felt like more of a brother than a friend. Growing up, we were constantly together, protecting each other from the world's troubles, and keeping each other on our feet. And when my dad got into his accident, and passed away, Jensen was the one who'd let me cry on his shoulder. In a way, I guess I kind of love him. Not in an affectionate way, of course. I never feel butterflies when Jensen tenderly grins at me, or asks me if I'm feeling well. He just feels homely; when I'm with him, my breathing grows slower, and everything eases.

"Ya' still feel ill?" Jensen faintly lifted his head and peered at me. 

"Not anymore." I responded, looking back at him. He smiled, and let his head fall back onto my shoulder. Though the chilling winds tussled my hair, and froze the tip of my nose, I was warm.