𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇 // 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞

CONNOR WOKE TO THE SOUND of a coffee machine going, when realizing he was sleeping on a couch. He was covered by a woollen blanket, identical to the one Eila had been curled up under the night before. Connor sleepily rubbed his eyes as he sat up, noticing how nothing of what he could see went with how he knew his apartment was.

"Good morning, Grinch," Eila chuckled, approaching him with a steaming cup of coffee. "We both fell asleep on the couch last night; I'd wake you, but quite frankly, I didn't have the heart to. You looked peaceful and relaxed, something I'm not so sure you are that often, considering your line of work."

"Thank you," Connor smiled gratefully, placing the cup on the coffee table in front of him as he shrugged off the blanket. "I mean, I'm lucky I didn't have an early morning shift," he sheepishly smiled, glancing at Eila, who returned to the couch opposite from him. "However, I do have to be at work by five — otherwise I could get fired."

"Why would they fire you for being late?"

"How do I put this?" Connor chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Let's just say, I have a history of putting my job on the line when doing the things I consider to be right."

Eila smiled, resting her cup against her lower lip, gaze resting on Connor. He still looked tired, his bright, blue eyes sleepy, and his hair messy, hanging in front of his eyes. "You look like hell," she ended up chuckling, watching as Connor ( quite poorly ) faked a hurt expression. "Come on, let's get some breakfast, and we can go for a drive around town and look at Christmas decorations."

"Isn't that best when it's dark out?" Connor asked, his tone confused and an eyebrow raised. "I mean, it's daylight outside, and I'm not pissing on your plan, or anything—,"

"We'll just have to do it again another night when it's dark, you know," Eila rolled her eyes, though smiled at the dark-haired man in front of her. "How else are we going to know how well the lighting of the decorations work?" She got up from the couch shortly after finishing her question, not really giving Connor any time to answer as she walked to the kitchen. "Okay — I don't really have a lot we can make breakfast from here. Well, I can't really brag about having anything to eat, unless you know what we can make of air, baking soda and — ah yes, the infamous bottle of ketchup everyone keeps at the back of the shelf. How about your kitchen?"

"I haven't cooked in a kitchen I own myself since, well," Connor looked as if he tried to remember, though ended up shrugging, a cheeky sparkle in his eyes as he smiled at her. "Sorry — I'm sure you understand what that means."

               Eila sighed, though seemed light-hearted; she wasn't one to see a lot of issues in things, even though her plans didn't always go exactly as she had planned. This very Christmas was an example of that; after all, who plans to spend their vital preparation time with a neighbour who's not even really fond of the holidays? Connor admired that about her; the stubborn side of her that refused to give him up. Sure, they had only been spending a little over a week together as they prepared for Christmas, but quite frankly, the surgeon was 100% any one else would have dropped his ass by now.

"Give me ten minutes, and I'll meet you in the garage. Surprisingly enough, I might even have an idea of where we can go," Connor grinned cheekily, before downing the last mouthful of his coffee. Surely enough, they were both standing by his car in the parking garage a short ten minutes later.

                Their drive around the city was without a particular goal, no destination in mind ( other than the street Connor had in mind ). Eila seemed to enjoy it, constantly leaning over to turn the volume of the radio back up after Connor had turned it down, making sure the Spotify-playlist they were listening from only played the songs she deemed to be suitable for the ride. Much to Connor's dismay, this did not include a few ( or any, really ) of his saved rock songs.

              She couldn't help her surprised expression, however, when Connor stopped his car at the end of a street, wrapping his coat tighter around him as he got out of the car. Upon noticing she was still seated, he bent down, an eyebrow raised. "You planning to come, or?"

                Eila quickly gathered her thoughts, shivering as the brisk Chicago-air hit her face. Turning, she noticed Connor's eyes were on her, a concerned look on his face, making her smile. "Hey, handsome — stop it. If I couldn't handle the Chicago temperatures, why would I be living here?" She countered, watching as a smile spread on his lips. "Now, let's not stand around. Please do show me what you brought me here for."

"Of course," Connor chuckled, hands deep in the pockets of his coat as they started walking down the side-walk. Though they both were quiet, the silence was of a comfortable kind, only disturbed by the birds chirping from the various power-lines above their heads, or dogs barking as they leaped through the snow of the front lawns. "To be honest, I haven't been down here in forever."

"What do you mean?" Eila turned, her head slightly tilted as she looked at him. Plenty of times, Eila felt as if she was able to read his expression, know a part of what he wanted to tell her, but this was not one of these times. Even the spark in his eye was conflicting; perhaps reflecting on the inner battle he was fighting with himself.

"The house at the end of the street," he breathed out, nodding towards the large house right ahead of them, before looking to the ground. "That's, uh — that's where I grew up. That's where my mother killed herself. I believe that, along with a restrained relationship with my father, is the main reason as to why I haven't been back to this place in years." He paused again, eyebrows furrowed as he turned to look at her. "It's odd you know, that someone so constant can suddenly just disappear out of your life. I think that's why I'm skeptic and picky about who I let in; and I've never been fond of getting attached. I don't like the idea of letting someone in, giving them the power of destroying my heart, and then choosing to walk away. Hell, maybe they'd even destroy me by walking away, what would I know. I want to guard my heart, you know."

"You want to save yourself."

Eila could see the corner of Connor's mouth twitch upwards as the words escaped her lips, finishing off what he wanted to say. Slowly, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, crouching down as he dug his hands deep into the snow. It was cold against his hands, and he shivered, grabbing a handful as he stood back up. "Yeah, and how can I do that if I don't know if I'm alive?" Connor questioned, opening his hand, showing her the snow that was melting into small droplets of water in the palm of his hand.

"Thank you for showing me," she spoke up, lifting her gaze, her brown eyes meeting his blue ones. "Thank you for letting me in." Without thinking, she reached out, wrapping a warm hand around his cold, wet one, feeling how the cool temperature of his skin stung against the warmth of her own skin. However, she kept his hand in hers, giving it a small, though reassuring squeeze.

Connor glanced down at their hands, smiling a little as he returned his gaze to hers. "You're one of the very few important enough to be welcomed in."