"Snowflakes are kisses from heaven." – Unknown
DEDICATION: ubiquitously for creating the gorgeous banner above!
P.S. This is the first story of mine to hit 100k before completion, so thank you! <3
■ □ ■ □ ■ □ ■ □
"Boo."
The syllable cut through the howling wind, chiming with the clarity of a bell behind Andrew. As flurries of snow battered his cheeks, rosy from the cold, he could only stand there as disbelieving thoughts sprinted through his mind, one after the other. It couldn't be, but it had to be. It was her. It must be her. There was no other voice like hers, and no one else crazy enough to forge their way through a snowstorm to see him.
He had to make sure. He had to turn and see her, but his body was very slow and unresponsive. The frigid chill left his limbs creaky and numb, like floorboards in an abandoned attic. His left arm screamed in pain, neon pink cast somehow intact. Andrew forced his mind to dull those thoughts and focus on the tantalising possibility of seeing her at last, of reassuring himself that his struggle through the storm was worth it.
With this in mind, he shuffled one-eighty degrees and his gaze fell upon her at last, the halo of light among the bitter darkness surrounding them. The rigidity of Andrew's bones melted away at the sight of her. As cheesy as it sounded, the gloom seemed to recede around them, leaving a patch of winter glitter beneath their snow boots.
Quinn hadn't anticipated what she was going to say after she found Andrew. As a matter of fact, her original intention for going out in the storm was for his safety, but as she gazed upon his glowing expression, there was a twisting sensation in her gut. A sensation which could not be defined any better than love. She and Andrew's eyes locked for a second, though it seemed to last for an eternity as they read each others minds.
Then, as though their shoes were magnetised, they forged their way towards each other. Before Quinn knew it, her arms were wrapped around his shoulders while his face was buried in her tangled locks. Andrew exhaled a cloud of frost, using his right arm to bring her petite body closer. She was his only source of warmth, his star in the night sky.
The hug lasted for some time while the storm raged around them, but they eventually tuned back into the real world. Andrew didn't dare blink, fearing that the moment his eyes left the angel before him, she would evaporate into mist. Her irises were sparkling ferns, as though nature itself had captured the precise shade of sunshine striking a leaf, and instilled it within a pair of eyes. Andrew could only murmur, "You're here."
"You're late," Quinn quipped, though the raised corners of her primrose lips spoke a different message. The two let go of each other, though the warmness pulsing through Quinn's heart did not recede. "Also, you're such a dingbat. Couldn't you wait until dawn?"
"It was worth it," he replied earnestly. Quinn glanced down at her feet to hide the blush creeping into her cheeks. Could he be any cuter? Firstly, he goes out to find her at the darkest hour of night, and then he even compliments her. The nerve of the boy! Treating their lives like a cliché rom-com. Quinn was gagging on the cheesiness.
"By the way," Andrew added sheepishly. "I didn't know what you looked like, so I'm glad I found the right person."
Quinn placed a hand on her chest, mocking an exaggerated expression of shock. "How dare you not recognise my gorgeous face on sight, in all its mozzarella glory?"
"You've finally accepted your nickname!" he exclaimed in delight.
"You're such a dork."
"You're such a mozzarella stick."
"Yeah, but I'm sizzling hot, unlike you."
"Uh huh," Andrew couldn't keep the teasing grin off his face as Quinn folded her arms defiantly. He would have tried to mirror her move, if his left arm wasn't bound with a cast which probably came straight out of a Barbie movie. "Fresh out of the oven."
"Shut up," Quinn grumbled, before growing serious. "Well, I've seen you before. Once, but only briefly. It was difficult to make out your facial features. Plus, there's the added fact that you looked like the victim of a horror movie at the time."
Andrew winced upon hearing about this, the throbbing concussion and snap of his left arm echoing in his mind. He had recently managed to get over the incident, but hearing Quinn describe it wasn't helping. The chicken soup and buttered potatoes he had eagerly consumed two hours ago, were churning uncomfortably in his stomach. Although he wasn't usually queasy about blood, the fact that it was his own was just sickening.
Of course, Quinn didn't have time to appreciate Andrew's looks before. Most of his face had been coated with blood at the time. Even the tiny glimpse of his bloodless face as he marched up the mountain like a man on a mission, was through frosted glass, as though nature wanted to conceal their identities from each other until the right moment. Nature totally shipped Quindrew. Quinn knew there was a reason why she liked the outdoors.
Unnoticed by either of the pair, the first few rays of sun were beginning to peek above the mountains. The snowstorm finally calmed down to a gentle breeze of snowflakes. Quinn checked her frosty watch and was surprised to see the hands pointed to seven-thirty. It was morning already? She was sure only minutes had passed while she conversed with Andrew and fantasised about meeting him.
"Woah, it's already dawn?" Andrew voiced her thoughts, scrunching his eyes up at the light rays. "Geez, the sun is brighter than my future."
"Don't stare directly into it, Chipmunk," Quinn advised as Andrew did just that, the disobedient boy. "You'll go blind and won't be able to see my dazzling face anymore."
"Oh no, the horror," he said emotionlessly, though he did follow her orders and turned his gaze away from the firey ball of death. "Oh, and call me Andrew. I'm tired of the chipmunk yik-yak. It's not my fault puberty sucks."
"Nah, I like Chipmunk more," Quinn teased, tracing her foot in the snow to create a shape which was supposed to be a chipmunk, though it closely resembled a flaming wombat. There was a reason why she almost failed art class and dropped it as soon as she could. The only decent snow art she made was a lopsided snowman named Buttons. He melted after January and was never seen again. Poor Buttons. He had such potential.
"Andrew," Andrew said insistently, breaking her thoughts about lopsided snowmen.
"Fine, but only for today," Quinn sighed.
"That's good enough for me," he replied. Although his eyebrow quirked up at how quickly she surrendered, he grudgingly let the matter go under the presumption that the Christmas spirit had finally take a hold of her. However, before Andrew managed to get even a second of peace, or perhaps a nice, steaming cup of coffee, Quinn's face lit up.
"C'mere," she whispered, lacing her gloved fingers through Andrew's as he fought hard not to break his face whilst grinning. They trudged for a few minutes, Quinn leading the way and Andrew struggling to keep up behind her, though he remained lightheaded with ecstasy. She could have lead him to a bottomless pit and he wouldn't have batted an eye. They ended up halting near the lodge, where tiny houses could be spotted from a distance.
Quinn bent down while Andrew's eyebrows creased together. What was so spectacular about a patch of snow? A patch of snow that was exactly the same as every other patch of snow in the area, he might add. Quinn used a gloved hand to brush the flakes away. Andrew was about to ask her what she was trying to accomplish, when the first hint of frigid wood materialised before his eyes and sent his jaw to the ground. "Holy shit."
Once Andrew got over his stupefaction, he bent down and helped Quinn dig with his right hand. It was only then that she noticed his neon pink cast. She had to suppress the giggles, since there was more important work to do, but she was totally going save up the topic to tease him about it later. Once the large square of wood was visible, Quinn fiddled with a tiny latch and opened the trapdoor, which appeared to lead into a land of infinite darkness.
"I discovered this secret hidey-hole a few days ago while you were in the hospital," Quinn explained as Andrew's eyes grew to the size of galleons. "I didn't know what it was at the time, but now I have a sneaking suspicion that it'll lead straight to the secret lair of our least favourite redhead. Let's explore. She might've hidden the key here."
Andrew looked doubtful. "It's like mommy black hole and daddy black hole produced this baby black hole."
"Ugh, are you coming or not? I'm going down there whether you like it or not," Quinn said impatiently. Andrew hadn't noticed while he was contemplating his chances of survival, but Quinn had already lowered herself halfway so she was only visible above the waist. "If I die alone in this abyss of darkness, you'll avenge me, right?"
"Like hell I will," Andrew snorted as Quinn disappeared with a thrilled whoop. He began following her down with less enthusiasm and more wincing. Just as he was about to drop and prepare for the pain which would shoot up his legs upon impact, his foot kicked against a metallic object. At closer inspection, he noticed that the metal had been forged into rungs, and those rungs formed a dusty ladder. Oh, thank Hephaestus. "If we die, we die together," he called down.
"That's the spirit!" Quinn chirped from below.
She didn't bother waiting for the slowpoke to reach the ground. From his heavy breathing and moans of pain which were growing clearer, he wasn't that far behind. Quinn retrieved her phone from a pocket and turned on the flashlight. The place was instantly illuminated. Quinn fought back a gasp as she cast her gaze upon the glittering walls of rock, and the musky scent of eau de cavern. Who built this and why wasn't she told about it?
She roamed further onwards, ears perked up to listen for Penelope-like noises. Thankfully, all she could hear were Andrew's complaints and high-pitched yelps as he injured his boo-boo. Or broken arm. Same difference. The expanse caved into a narrow tunnel, which Quinn squeezed her way through as the rock grated against her cheeks. Andrew had caught up with her by then. She tried to ignore his warm breath tickling her neck.
Eventually, the tunnel lead to a door, which Quinn knew lead to Penelope. It was either her or a bald Asian monk, and they didn't get the latter type around the lodge. Quinn crept towards the door and pressed her ear against the wood. No sound. She beckoned Andrew, who crept forward, albeit reluctantly.
Andrew hadn't noticed past his own befuddling pain, but Quinn's fingers seemed to quiver ever-so-slightly. Although this sent worry jolting through his body, he also knew that any attempt to ask about it would be shut down. Quinn didn't seem to notice his eyes piercing though her hand as she twisted the doorknob and gave the door a shove.
Both of them gasped at what was possibly the most gorgeous underground room they'd ever seen. Not that they'd seen many underground rooms, but that wasn't the point. Plaques decorated the sparkling walls. The place was illuminated with soft LED tealights. Stacks of treasure were arranged in perfect order. It was a niffler's paradise, and there was no question that it belonged to Penelope.
"Wow," Andrew's awed voice rang out.
"Start searching," Quinn ordered. She began rummaging through the nearest pile, but came up empty-handed. Andrew began his search on the other side of the room. They went at it for twenty minutes and frustration was beginning to take hold, when Andrew suddenly spoke.
"Quinn." His voice was brittle. "I think I've found it."
Part of her didn't want to believe it, but as her gaze fell upon a shiny gleam in the embellished perfume bottle Andrew was holding, she knew it was. She stormed over to him, unscrewed the bottle, and let the perfume splash onto the floor until the key fell into her palm. "Okay," she said, her voice hard. "Give me a sec, I'll leave her a note."
Since Quinn took the precaution of keeping a pen and notepad with her, she scribbled out a quick letter, rolled it up, and stuffed it in the perfume bottle where the key had been.
Dear Penelope,
We couldn't help but see that you possess an item which belongs to us. Don't know how that happened. We'd love to know. Anyway, we've restored balance to the universe now, so you'll find your perfume bottle keyless. You really need to improve your security.
By the way, we've taken photos of the crime scene. We'll be showing them to the boss the moment we fix up the relationship you sabotaged. Hope you don't mind.
P.S. Go to hell, you psycho bitch.
Love,
Quinn and Andrew
Once she was satisfied, Quinn and Andrew headed back the way they came. Since she was feeling generous, she gave Andrew a helping hand as he lifted himself up and out of the trapdoor. He closed it with a satisfying snap and turned to her, a question in his gaze. However, she shook her head, signalling that she didn't want to talk about it. Andrew didn't blame her. A best friend's betrayal wasn't exactly a cheerful conversation topic.
A half hour had passed while they were down in the secret cavern. Weak rays of sunshine streamed through the bare branches of scattered tree, but before either of them could say anything, three figures appeared over the horizon. Upon closer inspection, they were the agitated forms of Erin and Alex, while Lucy held up the rear with an amused smirk.
"Andrew!" Erin shrieked, rushing towards him. Alex followed, trying to look stern, but was unable to keep the relieved smile off his face. "Oh my God, what were you thinking?"
"How'd you get past the snowstorm?" Andrew asked as his mother pounced on him with the speed of a cheetah.
"We waited it out," Alex answered. "We knew you two had sneaked out, but some guy named Oliver called and told us you guys were safe. Since we're such responsible parents, we decided to attend the annual Christmas dinner before coming here. No rush."
A crestfallen look fell upon Andrew's face. He realised both he and Quinn had missed the Christmas dinner they'd been discussing for what seemed like eons. Quinn seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as her expression softened into a tiny pout.
"We have tons of leftovers," Erin assured him, having read her son's expression too well. "Everyone else is waiting back at Tristan's house. Oh, speaking of Tristan–"
Just then, the aforementioned Doctor Tristan Gray emerged out of nowhere, hair embedded with flakes of snow. From the way his forehead was scrunched up like a piece of tinfoil, he was clearly disgruntled. "Stupid snow," he muttered, before stumbling towards the group and glaring daggers at Andrew, who cowered under his gaze. After a moment, Tristan sighed and enveloped him in a tight hug. "Well, you didn't crash into a boulder this time, so I can't tell you off."
Once the reunions had been made, Erin and Alex moved onto fussing over Lucy. Her bored expression could be seen from fifty feet away, which was where Andrew and Quinn were standing. The latter was strangely quiet, her eyes misty and unfocused.
Just as Andrew was about to ask her whether she was okay, Quinn's legs buckled beneath her weight. She collapsed onto Andrew, which nearly toppled him over too. Tristan, who had been awkwardly standing by as Erin and Alex reprimanded their daughter, rushed over to Andrew and relieved him of his burden.
Andrew attempted to reinflate his crushed windpipe with difficulty, but then turned his attention back to Quinn. She was muttering, "I'm fine, I can stand," to a worried Tristan, who feebly attempted to prop her up against a nearby boulder. Although the layer of snow upon the rock seeped through her clothes, she was too befuddled to notice. No matter how much she tried to deny it, the fact remained that her skin was pale white and ice cold. She could've been an extra in Twilight.
Tristan's fingertips gravitated towards Quinn's wrist as Andrew's heart threatened to beat out of his chest. After a second, Tristan retracted his hand with a sigh of relief. "Steady heartbeat. Just tired. A long nap should be enough to bring her back to normal."
"No, I don't wanna sleep," Quinn mumbled.
Tristan and Andrew exchanged bewildered looks. On the surface, she simply appeared delirious, but there was something sketchy boiling beneath. The way Quinn was always tired, how she often called Andrew in the middle of the night and he didn't pick up because he was asleep. "Your hand was shaking before," Andrew recalled. "Quinn, are you an insomniac?"
"I– Yeah, I guess so," she admitted.
"Nightmare disorder?" Tristan added. Two pairs of eyes flickered up to him, disbelief prominent in Quinn's clouded eyes and confusion swirling in Andrew's.
Quinn answered Tristan's question with a heavy nod while Andrew asked, "what's nightmare disorder?"
"It's exactly what it sounds like," Tristan explained, light reflecting off his glasses and aimed at the ground, which melted a tiny patch of snow into a puddle. "Vivid nightmares the moment you fall asleep. Every single day. It often turns people into insomniacs because they're too scared to sleep. It usually crops up more during childhood, but how your early life was spent may affect how long and how frightening the nightmares are."
Quinn met Tristan's knowing eyes and wondered how someone could read her so well within minutes of meeting. "We didn't have enough money for a doctor when I was a kid. We had to pay for food, water, shelter, clothes, other necessities. Medical attention was a luxury." The words were flowing out in a colossal tide and she could not longer stop them. "Our situation made the nightmares worse. There weren't just monsters under the bed. There were monsters all around us. Disease, decay, street thugs–"
"No," Andrew interrupted, wrapping an arm around Quinn as she shot him a bewildered look. "No more monsters. You're safe. You have a family, and God help whoever tries to hurt you, because they'll have to answer to me."
"With your noodle arms?" she teased, poking his bicep. "I think not."
"Rude," Andrew mumbled. He jabbed Quinn in the ribs, which drew a squeak from her.
"Anyway," Tristan interrupted amusedly, "I promise I'll find something to tone down the nightmares when you come over for a family dinner. In the meantime, I'll have to give you anaesthetics. You're less likely to dream when you're under them."
"F-Family dinner?" Quinn stammered.
"Didn't you figure that out already?" Tristan said warmly, adjusting the twinkling glasses which were slipping down his thin nose. "You're one of us now."
Warmth flooded though Quinn's body. Before she could stutter out a thanks, Tristan began rummaging through his bag, producing a bottle of clear liquid. "Here's something to keep you awake for now. I'm sure Andrew wants to spend time with you before you're conked out for the next twenty-four hours."
"Don't worry, he's not going to poison you," Andrew said with a grin.
"That's exactly what someone trying to poison me would say," Quinn replied before taking a swig of the liquid. The fog receded from her mind and became miraculously clear. With the help of Andrew, she slowly wobbled up to a standing position, though her muscles were still weak from lack of sleep. "Thanks so much," she told Tristan gratefully.
"You're welcome," Tristan laughed, pretending to tip a bowler hat. "Are you sure you can walk on your own? Do you need a walking stick or anything? I can find a makeshift–"
"No, it's okay," Quinn said quickly, and it was the truth. She'd felt better than she had the entire month of December. Whatever magic potion Tristan gave her had done the trick, and she was tempted to ask for a huge stock of it. "I've caused you enough trouble, and I'm feeling way better now. Although my legs don't work like they used to before..."
Andrew blinked. "Are you quoting Ed Sheeran?"
"I don't know who that is," Tristan mumbled at the blanket of snow.
"Back in our day, his songs were really popular. One billion views on YouTube!" Erin added as she joined the trio, with Alex and Lucy in hot pursuit. Andrew's parents seemed to have finished chewing Lucy out for being so irresponsible, and how she could've been lost in the snow forever. You know, the usual parental jabber that no kid listens to.
"Now he's a classic, right?" Alex added.
"Yeah, but so is Jacob Sartorius's Sweatshirt."
Everyone shuddered simultaneously.
Within an hour, the introductions had been made. Lucy got along famously with Quinn, and cheerfully told her that she'd castrate Andrew if he did anything to hurt her. Andrew, who was used to these sisterly death threats, struck up a conversation with the adults, who clucked over him to make sure he was already. Erin frantically rubbed off the dirt which had collected on his cast after his expedition to the secret underground cavern.
Once Andrew had escaped from the clutch of his mother hen, he subtly laced his fingers through Quinn's and lead her away from the group. It took Quinn a minute to register that they were at the top of a small mountain, but when she did, she was afraid to encounter a flashback as vivid as her nightmares. A flashback of blood and a twisted, unconscious body. Andrew's body. But to her surprise, there was no fear. It was a hill. Nothing more.
Although there was no need for close contact, as the snow had stopped and the wind died down, Andrew leaned close to Quinn's ear, his warm breath heating up her skin. "Since you're not into snowboarding anymore, and I never want to cast my gaze upon a set of skis ever again, how about we compromise and go sledding?"
Quinn glanced around, her sight falling on the innocent sled. To be fair, she'd never gone sledding before, so she couldn't judge an activity before she tried it, but anything snow sport related seemed sinister. "Oh goodie, now we can critically injure ourselves with another snow adventure!" she said sarcastically. "In fact, why don't we just–"
Before Quinn could finish, Andrew's hands were cupping her face and she was breathing in his warm, gingerbread scent. His lips were hot cocoa and hers peppermint, as they starved for each other's taste. They kissed as easily as they inhaled oxygen, sending sparks of lust in every direction. Snow melted beneath their feet as Andrew's hands tenderly rested on either side of Quinn's waist, while her fingertips caressed the nape of his neck.
As their momentum slowed down to feathered pecks, Andrew broke off the kiss. Even so, he couldn't keep his eyes off Quinn as his crystal eyes twinkled with love. "Merry Christmas, Mozzarella."
As if on cue, a faint chiming of bells rang in the distance. If there was a time when Santa showed up, chucking presents everywhere and feeding his reindeer carrots, it would've been then. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Hate to break it to you, kids, but Santa ain't real. Go give your parents a peck on the cheek though, they were 'Santa' for years.
"Merry Christmas, Chipmunk," Quinn whispered back, before shoving Andrew backwards. He toppled onto the sled with a shout and a surprisingly loud thud, before clambering out and shouting a few insults which would make a pirate's ears bleed.
Although the duo were doubled over in laughter at first, they gained enough composure to push the sled and let it pick up speed, before hopping on and racing down the mountain without a care in the world. The couple's shouts became the soundtrack of the holiday as the lights of Westerden Ski Lodge twinkled in the distance.
Of course, it wasn't like all their problems had vanished. They'll never know what twisted Penelope into such a manipulative persona. They'll never see her reaction to their note. Quinn's nightmare disorder is an unsolved puzzle. Andrew has seven weeks left before he can get rid of his Barbie pink cast. Seven weeks left of Lucy's taunts. Tragic, right?
The point is, there are always unsolved cases. Always a problem somewhere, somehow. Just stop worrying about the future and live in the now. Appreciate what you have and make the most of the time you've been given, because time doesn't wait. It doesn't bow down to anyone. So don't resist time. Simply live, perhaps with a few sticks of mozzarella and a chipmunk companion by your side. Don't let life bring you down. Time not only ticks, but it heals wounds, no matter how deep.
After all, snowmen who're knocked down are built back up with twice the vigour.
■ □ ■ □ ■ □ ■ □
YOOOOO I JUST COMPLETED MY THIRD STORY AYYYY PARTAYYYYY WHO'S BRINGING THE BOOZE
I did mean to write this chapter sooner, but I had a 20 page bio report to write in four days. So that's the tale of why this update was so late. Anywho, I'd just like to give a special shoutout to the loyal readers who were there from the beginning, because it took me eight months to complete this story. Eight! Unbelievable. It only took three for Waffle Cones and four for Eye Drops. Granted, I wasn't riddled with writer's block then, but ugh, I'm slipping.
In a similar fashion to Eye Drops, I'll be doing a Q&A. Comment your questions and I'll answer them in the next author's note. Stay tuned!