Timeless [h.s]

Thirty five

Stuart

"She's two minutes late." I mumbled, looking around warily. Oliver seemed much more laid back, looking up at the sky, hands inside his pockets and a small grin dancing on his lips.

"You've always been impatient and punctual. Calm down, Charlie." I rolled my eyes, knowing I had been annoying him for the past ten minutes. I kept looking around frantically, feeling exposed and idiotic considering we were the only two people dumb enough to stand in the unforgiving cold.

"Someone's coming." Oliver finally said the words I wanted to hear. His eyes were focused on something behind me; I wanted to turn around, badly, but my knees felt weak and perhaps a bit frozen too. I was incredibly scared, as if I'd see Gaston himself, holding the ancient dagger, ready to attack me.

"Char, you're going to want to see this. I mean, it's so weird." His tone was low, muffled, clearly trying to pretend to whomever approached us he was not saying anything. Fuelled by curiosity after his words, I slowly turned around, pocketing my glove clad hands.

The woman approached us with firm and rushed steps, looking around and trying to control her hair as the wind blew the light brown strands all over her face. My brain immediately confronted the image of my former friend with the person approaching us, coming to one single, amusing conclusion.

"She looks older." I muttered, dumbfounded. Oliver nodded, eyes still fixated on Ayla.

"It's definitely her. Fuck, she looks around twenty eight or something." We no longer had time to say anything else, because she approached us and looked deeply into my eyes. I observed her hair colour, the fair skin tinted pink due to excessive cold, and finally, the green eyes that haunted me in my dreams for centuries. If her words and her actions weren't proof enough of her identity's veracity, the shade of her irises could never be copied or replaced, no matter how hard Gaston tried.

Surprising us both, I threw my arms around her neck in a suffocating manner, bringing our bodies closer and allowing all my feelings to pour through the tight hug and hot tears streaming down my face.

"I missed you so much." Her voice was barely audible, a few sobs escaping. If I closed my eyes, I could almost picture the winter festival inside the castle, Ayla and I running around with lamb chops, hearing older people scold us, specially me, because no princess should leave dirt and grease on her white dress.

"Oh God I can't believe you're here." Her eyes shone with pure love and perhaps a bit of sadness as well, although I wasn't sure. Oliver watched our exchange in awe, taking a couple steps and embracing Ayla. His actions were far more contained than my previous outburst, but I could see his emotions seeping through the collected façade.

"If someone told me we'd be here together, centuries later, I probably would've found a way to convince myself and them about their craziness. Guess the joke's on me now." He squeezed Ayla's shoulder one more time before moving away and standing beside me.

"I know you two must have endless questions, but the cold is really unforgiving and I think we'd be more comfortable inside a café. Luckily, I own one nearby." She spared us a shy smile, showing off her dimples and new ageing marks, delicate reminders that her path into immortality hadn't been as immediate as mine or Oliver's.

We both nodded, eager to get away from the cold and wrap our freezing hands around a warm cup of cappuccino. She didn't wait much, small frame deceiving as her legs took long and fast strides towards her establishment. I followed suit, a bit surprised once Oliver placed his hand in mine, stopping me.

"Do you trust her?" he mumbled, so lowly I barely heard it.

"Yes and no." I said, still trying to form a coherent opinion. She was my best friend, she seemed ridiculously emotional after seeing us, but perhaps she had always been a good actor, like Gaston.