VIENNA'S POV
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"
There was a chorus of clapping and hoots of hollering as the lemon-haired boy – my step-brother – blew out his eight candles on his colorful cake and grinned into a camera flash with one missing tooth. I was standing on one side of their small dining room with Elliot, and my dad was across the room. I was surprised that not many other kids turned up at Rudy's birthday party. I looked across the small dinner table at my dad, who was clapping and looking at Rudy proudly. I remember that look vividly; it was always present at all my birthday parties since forever, and I missed it a lot more than I would admit.
"Happy birthday, Rudy," Elliot said beside me, shooting him a thumbs up, and Rudy beamed brightly.
"Happy birthday," I chimed in, but Rudy's attention veered away from me and onto a woman who walked in with a small box covered in birthday wrapping and slapped with a big, red bow on top. Her dirty-blonde hair was chopped short to her neck and she wore a modest blue shirt displaying her love for the Cowboys.
I watched, trying to stomach the view of my dad slinging an arm around her and kissing her cheek like the world was ending. My lip curled. I learned that her name was Eva, pronounced just like the Disney robot. She didn't wear any other piece of jewelry but a simple silver bracelet, and her home wasn't as spotless as Angie's, and she didn't order wedding bell-shaped glass containers filled with caviar, but she was normal, and I was more than relieved.
"Happy birthday, baby," Eva exclaimed, thrusting the gift to her son. "It's from your dad and I, we know you've been wanting to play forever, and tryouts for the YMCA team are starting this spring!"
Rudy tore apart the wrapping, paper shooting into the air and the bow flying on the floor. He opened the gift to find a brand-new football twice the size of his blonde head.
"Aw, man, this is the best birthday ever!" he shouted, raising the football. Instantly he jumped up and hugged his parents. "Elliot, wanna come and play outside with me?"
Instantly I glanced at him beside me. Elliot looked at me, "Ten minutes?"
"Knock yourself out," I smiled, and he bent down and kissed my cheek before leaving with Rudy through the backdoor. I tried not to grin too hard. My dad was right there with a clear view.
"Grab a jacket!" Eva called, but they were already gone, tossing each other the football in the leaf-strewn backyard. The clouds were darkening though, but they didn't care. I watched through the window at Elliot, who pulled up his sleeves to his elbow, his muscles tightening, and was showing my step-brother how to throw a football and where to put his hands.
It was a strange thing to see my dad's stuff all cluttered and littered in his modest house. When my dad left, so did his stuff, and there's been an empty spot in the house ever since. It was even stranger when they were all in the same relative places, like his boat shoes propped up by the door, or his worn jacket on the foreign coat rack, weathered to a faint mustard yellow color for wearing it so long, or his leather driving gloves on the coffee table full of water rings. I had that familiarity to lean on, at least, when he showed me Eva, his new wife.
"It's Evangeline, but please, call me Eva," she had told me when I walked in, instantly wanting to shake my hand. They were extremely soft and kind of sweaty. "It's with the long E by the way. Not like egg, more like email. Like that Disney robot, but not the boxy one."
I pried my view away from the windows to see my dad chuckling at Eva while she plucked out the candles as he started slicing the cake. His eyebrows crinkled at the same places they always have. I guess I just thought that when my dad switched families, he would be different in the way he talked, the way he acted, the way he saw me. But the only difference was in the way he would smile a lot bigger and laugh a lot harder.
Watching Eva and my father joke about something and laughing so freely made me understand without one of his lectures. I understood that sometimes, two people aren't supposed to be together. Maybe they'll fall in love at first, and maybe they'll even have a kid or two, but what was important was forgiving, forgetting, and moving on to be happy, because you only get so many seconds in this world and to waste it would be rude and unwise. And I understood that forgiving sometimes meant accepting change, and change doesn't have to be evil and terrible and life-ruining.
And if my parents were happy with their new loves in life, who was I to stand in the way of forgiving and moving on? They already have. Forgiving isn't surrendering, I told myself, Tess' voice weaving through my mind. Forgiving isn't surrendering. Forgiving is braveness. Forgiving is loving. Forgiving is living.
And it only took me this long to figure it out, finally.
"Vienna?" Eva's warm voice snapped me out of it. She was holding out a slice of cake, the corner piece and my favorite part. My dad must have whispered something to her about it.
I held it in my hands and smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Eva."
She smiled brighter at me before slicing my dad a piece of cake. Behind her, my dad nodded, his way of showing his pride.
After a while, Eva allowed me and my dad to have a chat together outside in their backyard deck with our cake, watching Elliot run around trying to fake-chase Rudy, who was clutching the ball with both arms and still barely holding it.
"So...Elliot," my dad opened. I hastily stuffed a piece of giant piece of cake in my mouth to stall whatever question he wanted me to answer about Elliot. "He seems like a nice boy."
"Yeah," I mumbled through icing in my mouth. "He is."
"I think I've seen him before."
"What? How?"
"It might seem like a weird coincidence, and I almost didn't want to say anything at first because he might think I was a crazy old man, but when I picked Rudy up from the airport from his grandparents in Denmark, he was the one who they had picked to accompany him."
"Elliot?" I echoed.
"Apparently," my father bit down on some icing. "He watched over Rudy for the whole flight. It was a wonder that he could keep Rudy so calm during the plane, he's seriously afraid of flying by himself."
Elliot watching over my stepbrother didn't surprise me, not even a little bit.
"Rudy came from Denmark?" I asked.
My dad nodded. "He was there with his real dad, who lived in Denmark."
"And Eva, he's her biological son?"
"Correct. I guess your family tree may be a lot complicated nowadays, with your mom and her twins and her new husband and me, Eva, and Rudy."
I almost snorted out cake through my nose. "That's a hell of an understatement, Dad."
He looked at me, concerned. "How is your mother, by the way? Is she coping, being a new mom again after all these years?"
"Dad, you're making me sound like I'm ancient," I said. "But mom's fine. The twins are fine and kicking and crying all day. Wait a minute. How did you know about the twins? I didn't think you and mom are exactly Facebook buddies after what happened."
"Honey, who was the one who found my number in Texas and told me to come contact you?"
My mouth dropped slightly. "Mom was the one who gave you my number? She looked for you and actually talked to you?"
Dad nodded slowly, unaware that I was unaware. When my dad called me, out of nowhere after almost two years on a random Tuesday afternoon, I never knew how or why it happened. But it was my mom, after all. She had called my father; which said a lot considering that she would eat glass covered in anchovies before she would admit she was wrong. Her pride was the size of California. But it turned out my mom had forgiven herself to help me reach my dad again.
My mom forgave herself.
"Do you forgive her, Dad?" I said suddenly.
He sighed, looking out into the yard for a long while before answering, "I have forgiven your mother the week after I found out, Vienna."
"Then why didn't you come back?" I willed myself not to choke. God, don't choke, please don't choke up.
"Because you know what they say, forgive and forget. I forgave your mother, but I was still hurt. We were married and we said those vows and she still went behind my back with another man and I was angry. More than angry. I was more on the devastated side than the anger, but the anger was still there and burning, trust me. But I forgave her because anger isn't something you should die with. I moved away, and started a new life, and yes, I should've been in contact a lot more, but I never forgot about you, Vienna," he said.
The backs of my eyes were burning and I had to turn away from him to focus on Elliot's figure so I wouldn't end up doing something embarrassingly childish, like cry. As if he felt something, he turned around to glance at me, his smile instantly fading and his eyebrows creasing when he saw my expression. He was so focused on me that he didn't see Rudy come and push him back enough to tackle him to the ground with a thud.
"Look, Vienna," My dad cleared his throat, his eyes scattering between me and the table. "I know me and your mom haven't been the best parents."
"I agree," I softly murmured faintly, hoping he didn't hear it.
"But even though you have more than one family right now, it doesn't mean we suddenly forget about you because we don't see each other, okay? I mean, it was a team effort to make you and—"
"Gross, Dad."
"I'm just saying," he smiled, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying—"
"I understand," I said. "I love you both too."
So much has changed, I thought. Some bitterness started to seep in, but I stopped it instantly, thinking how better off my parents were right now. My mom was happier with Stephen and the twins, and my dad found an adorable little lemon-haired family to look over. And me? I was living. I was breathing. I would be okay.
"I hope you're happy, Dad," I suddenly said. "I really do."
His eyes softened. "I can see you are, with this Elliot boy."
My cheeks warmed up. "I am."
"But just tell me when to get a shotgun and I'll buy one in a heartbeat."
I laughed right then, and it was one of those laughs that come from your stomach that expand into belly-aching laugh, and the fact that I was laughing with my dad again like when I was younger made everything seem perfect right now.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Your mother told me that a year ago, you went hitchhiking across America...?" he raised an eyebrow.
"What?" I feigned innocence. "I didn't hitchhike..."
Technically, I didn't hitchhike for the whole trip.
"And she told me that you went all over the country to California from – what was it, Maine? North Dakota—?"
"—North Carolina?"
"Yes, there. She told me you went and got in a car with some boy you barely knew and he drove you all the way to California," my dad's tone shifted straight to serious. He was staring at me with hardened eyes and accusing glare. "Vienna, is this true? Do you know how dangerous that would be? And with a boy!"
But Dad, did you know how fun it would be?
I cleared my throat loudly, pushing the empty plate of cake away, "Oh, pfft, that's a story for the grandkids, Dad, so um, yeah, I'll tell it another time! Say, why don't we play football with the boys down there?"
I immediately started getting up and pushing my chair back before my dad could protest. I didn't exactly want to lie about the trip, but I didn't want to get into all the gory details and have my dad judge and criticize all my decisions. I got home, didn't I? Besides, I didn't really want to stick around when Dad found out that 'the boy' was Elliot.
Not that it was a bad thing, of course.
I sprinted out of the deck before my dad could, feeling some of the brown leaves crush underneath my shoes. Elliot was too preoccupied with trying to catch the football thrown by my step-brother, so he didn't see me coming when I jumped right in front of him and intercepted the ball too easily.
His eyes widened. "And you play football too? Man, I got the whole package."
"Don't get soft on me, James," I deadpanned, hugging the football with my one warm and sling the other protectively around Rudy as he ran over, "Me and my little brother here will kick your butt straight into Tennessee."
Elliot cocked his eyebrow, his 'worst-smile-on-the-planet' coming onto his face, "That's not very far."
"What? Yes it is."
"No, its not."
"Try driving there."
"What—Vienna, we have!"
"Come on Elliot, don't let them get inside your head that easily," my dad showed him behind Elliot, rolled up his sleeves and patted my boyfriend's back twice, making him instantly straighten up.
Rudy groaned loudly, grabbing the football from me. "Enough with the lady chit-chat. Let's play some football!"
* * *
I could feel sweat on my forehead from how hard we've played, and we were all panting like dogs at the end of it, not to mention my dad was bent over with his hands on his knees, dry-heaving. My dad used to be the local Y's basketball and track coach, and aside from his job, he always made time for me when I tried my hand in volleyball and even soccer – which turned out to be a disaster because I didn't know which goal was mine and the whole team hated me. He was always the uncle running around with the toddlers all day, and now he was panting hard after ten minutes of football. It made me realize just how much things did change, and how much I wanted to be with my dad a lot more, because he wasn't going to live forever.
During another game, I was this close to scoring a touchdown (my dad and Elliot were shamelessly winning 12-0 and I was not about to let it ruin my step-brother's birthday) if it weren't for Elliot's faster legs and well, overall better body. He rounded me in seconds and wrapped his arms around my waist with so much force, he practically tackled me to the ground. I lost the football as I landed on a bed of grass, with Elliot lying on top of me right on my stomach, his arms pinning my down and his face two inches away from mine. My cheeks were flushed, and not because of the cold, but because of the mere fact that if I just reached up, we'd be kissing.
And all of this right in front of my father.
My dad started clearing his throat furiously, like he was trying to get a hairball out of his throat. "There are children present," Dad said in a deep, serious voice. I melted into such a deep shade of red, I could've been transformed into ketchup on the spot.
I started stammering, my heart stuttering and my palms getting clammy, but the cheeky bastard just had to throw one on his smirks. He was already pushing himself off of me and sitting up on the grass, even if all I wanted to do was pull him closer to me and smell his faint scent of pine smoke and brown sugar and -
Suddenly, I felt something drop from the sky on my hand, like a raindrop. Only, it wasn't a raindrop. Another fell on my forearm, melting as it touched my warm skin, and I could feel a third on my forehead.
Elliot was staring at me in such a way that my heart had a coughing fit.
"Uh, Vienna?"
"Huh?"
"You got a little something on your eyelashes," Elliot said, before pointing to his own to show me.
I started batting my eyelashes, when I saw a white flurry land in Elliot's hair, and I shamelessly whacked it off his head, laughing before I realized what was happening.
They were tiny, white little puffballs that started falling one by one slowly like fog settling in, but in seconds, more and more of them started dropping from the gray borderline-black clouds above me. Snowflakes.
All four of us froze in our places instantly, my dad looking shell-shocked and Elliot blinking his eyes repeatedly at the sky in disbelief. Rudy had his hands out, palms up, grinning mad and trying to catch the flurries in his hands, the snow accumulating by the second.
"It's snowing!" Rudy screamed in glee. He dropped his football and started running around with his tongue sticking out.
"Snow," my dad breathed heavily, not resisting the urge to hold his hand out. "Just in time for Christmas."
Elliot chuckled softly. "A white Christmas after all."
Instantly, I turned to him, beaming, "What are the chances?"
I've seen snow before, so it wasn't exactly a new thing to me, but I'd never had snowfall hit the day before Christmas Eve and I'd never, ever had my sole wish of a white Christmas be fulfilled until now. Well, sort of.
Elliot came over and started to wrap an arm around me when my dad wasn't looking.
"For warmth," he winked.
"Of course it would snow when I'm about to leave for California," I sighed.
"Seriously? You're gonna ruin the moment, Vienna the Pessimist?" he brought me closer into the crook of his chest.
"I'm just saying—" I started.
"No, don't," he shook his head, his voice getting hard a little bit. "Don't talk about when you have to leave."
"Okay," I breathed. "I won't, for you."
"Good," Elliot squeezed my shoulders once before asking, "Why do you always blush when you're around me, anyways?"
I jerked my head up. "What? I do not."
"You're lying," he laughed. "Your face literally looks like a red checker right now."
"I don't blush," I lied, playfully shoving him away. "Especially not around you."
"Being in denial doesn't help the fact that you're still blushing. Right now."
I rolled my eyes, betraying my fake annoyance with a soft smile. "You stink at flirting, Elliot James."
"Ha," he exclaimed with a knowing grin. "Keep telling yourself that, Vienna."
Suddenly, we heard the screen door opening and Eva stepped out, "Alright, it's time to come inside now, Rudy, or you'll get a cold!"
Rudy groaned, "Aw, mom!"
"Rudy!"
"But Mom!"
"Come on Rudy, you don't wanna get sick on your birthday, do you?" Dad slung a heavy arm around my step-brother. "I don't think you want to get grounded either."
Rudy sighed, picking up his football and clutching it to his chest. "Who's side are you on, Dad?"
It still amazed me how much Rudy leaned on my dad so easily. I had no problem with sharing him, it just - well, compared to me, it took me a year before I started calling Stephen other than Stephen, and I only call him 'step-dad,' not even 'dad.'
Elliot and I started following them back into the house, the chill of the wind seeping into my clothes faster than I would have expected. I rubbed my hands together for warmth, before I could feel the familiar weight of Elliot's arm around my shoulder again.
Before we got inside, Rudy tapped me on the arm twice. "I think this has to be the best birthday I've ever had, because I got a cake, a football, and a sister all in one."
It was safe to say my heart was in a puddle at my feet by then.
* * *
It wasn't long before we had to leave.
It was my dad's idea, since the snow was coming down at a steady pace that he was worried we might not make it back to the ranch house for the night. It wasn't too heavy just yet; it was still a light flurry and the grass was barely covered in it. Still, my dad wanted us to be as safe as possible.
We were standing in the doorway with our jackets on, Eva, Rudy, and my dad saying goodbye to us. Rudy rammed straight into me for a hug, almost knocking me over.
I traced my fingers through his blonde little head. "You'll be a great football player someday, Rudy," I laughed, hugging him tighter.
He moved on to Elliot, who gave him a manly fist bump before surrendering into a bear hug. Elliot had to bend down to his height, patting my step-brother softly on the back.
"You're always welcome here, Vienna," Eva stepped forward and gave me a hug. We were easily the same height. I wrapped my arms softly around her tiny body, before tightening my hug.
"Take care of my dad," I nodded to her, feeling my heart swell. I know it wasn't my authority to approve any of my parent's deicisions -- it was too late for that -- but I approved of Eva. She was kind, quiet, and the perfect balance to my dad's cheerful nature.
Speaking of, my dad reached out to Elliot and stared at him with rocky eyes. He outstretched his hand and Elliot shook it. I could tell my dad was squeezing down hard on his hand by the way Elliot grimaced before it passed a second later.
"Take care of my daughter, young man. I'm trusting you on this," my dad glowered so hard at Elliot, Elliot winced in a forced smile.
"I will, sir. I promise."
"I'm serious, Elliot, keep her safe."
"Always," he nodded to my Dad.
Finally, my dad moved on to me. I was easily his height now too. Only a couple more inches and I would be taller than my own father. Instantly and wordlessly, I stepped forward to give him a tight embrace, clinging on for dear life. He smelled just like he's always had; a mix of minty aftershave and the outdoors.
He patted my back. "Be good. Don't get into any funny business-"
He instantly looked over to Elliot before looking back at me. "-and always remember that your family isn't gone, alright? It just got bigger and expanded. And I'll see you very soon. Okay?"
I nodded, hugging him again, "Love you Dad."
Ten minutes later, we were waving goodbye through the windshield, 522 Davidson Lane becoming a speck in the distance, disappearing from sight in the rearview mirror.
One hand on the wheel, Elliot reached out to me, brushing his fingers against mine.
"Can I say something?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Your dad scares the shite out of me."
* * *
"Are your windshield wipers on?" I asked an hour later, leaning forward and peering into the foggy windshield.
"You mean you can't see them?"
"Does that mean they're on?"
"I turned them on, yes," Elliot responded, distracted away from the wheel by trying to fumble with the controls. "I've only driven the Navigator once or twice. I think this is my second time, honestly, and I have no freaking clue where all the wiper controls are and-"
"They're on!" I suddenly cried.
"What, the wipers?" he asked hopefully.
"No, the headlights."
"Vienna, the headlights have been on," he replied, still messing with the controls. "They've been on this whole time."
It turned out that the 'storm' that Angie was talking about wasn't a thunderstorm, but a full-on snow storm. It might have helped if she had elaborated on that a bit clearer, because as of right now, the snow was coming down on the highway like a beastly blizzard. Sheets of white lowered our vision of the road, and the cars on all lanes suddenly lowered their speed significantly, wheeling along at thirty miles per hour on what was supposed to be a seventy-mile speed limit.
Everyone's low beams were on, apparently ours too. "Shite," Elliot mumbled, squinting through the glasses he had pulled on shortly before. The mere flurries had escalated into rapid-fire pelting of snow, so bad that I couldn't even see the trails of our windshield wipers -- if they were even on.
I flicked on the radio station, switching from a hispanic gospel station to the weather radio. Instantly, we heard the screeching of a weather alert.
"For the first time in a long time, parts of Texas seem to getting the brunt of a serious cold front moving down along the South this winter season. Wind gusts of forty miles per hour are to be expected, and snow in some areas can accumulate to at least eight to ten inches, which can prove detrimental to drivers because of decreased vision and dangerous road conditions. Snowfall will last only until four in the afternoon. Expect--"
I glanced worriedly at Elliot, who was bent over at the wheel, focused and concentrated.
"Should we stop somewhere?" I asked him.
"How much do you have for a motel?" he replied.
"I have twenty bucks," I said solemnly, patting my pockets and feeling the sheer absence of my wallet. I had left it on the dresser of my guest room back at the ranch house.
He shook his head, "I have about the same amount. Forty dollars isn't enough for the night."
"Maybe we don't have to stay the night," I said. "The radio said the snow will only last until four. If we stop on the side of the road and wait until it clears..."
I saw Elliot start to think it over. He flicked on the wipers speed to 'high,' but it was no use.
"I don't know. Are there any motels on those lodging signs?" Elliot asked, pointing in the distance through the white haze at some green signs that showed drivers where to get gas, food, or shelter in the next town. The 'lodging' sign was bare and empty.
"No motels," I sighed.
Elliot kept his lips pursed, driving carefully. Honestly, I wasn't scared. We'd been through worse.
...haven't we?
"Maybe we can drive through the storm. It doesn't seem so bad right now," he suggested. "I have to get you back for your flight tomorrow."
I nodded silently, glancing out the window. It'd be a big understatement to say that I would much rather stay here in Texas than in California, but I also couldn't abandon my family like that.
We kept driving for about thirty more minutes, until the windshield wipers couldn't keep up anymore. It had gotten so badly that when the snow hit the window, we could hear the dull thud of the impact. The roads and the grass had all been blanketed by the snow, and it was getting a lot dangerous to be driving. But it wasn't like we had anywhere else to go; it seemed like we were in a remote part of Texas with small towns only composed of houses and gas stations, no motels.
There were a lot more cars on the side of the road now, with their hazards on and waiting it out.
Elliot sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Should we pull over?"
"How much farther do we have to go?" I asked.
"About an hour or so. But I don't think I can drive anymore with this snow, I can barely see..."
"Okay," I said. "Let's wait it out."
* * *
We were one car in the line of many others that chose to pull over the side of the highway with the hazard lights blinking and the engine turned off. Elliot found two soft blankets hidden in the back so we wouldn't freeze to death, and we folded the seats into the car itself so that the back was completely flat. It was roomy, just as Uncle Terrence had promised, but I tried not to think about that. We couldn't keep the heat running, because that would mean the risk of carbon monoxide getting into the car, and I didn't really plan on dying right now. The sky had darkened outside, and the snow kept falling without pace, without rhythm, but with power. It was only two in the afternoon, two hours until the snow was expected to stop.
"I'm a little tired, honestly," Elliot stretched himself out, yawning. We were lying in the back, our feet facing the seats in the front. We propped our backpacks to be pillows behind our heads, and Elliot was already lying on his back.
"You've been driving all morning and afternoon. You should get some rest," I agreed. "I'll set an alarm on my phone for four."
"Mmm," Elliot closed his eyes, turning over to his side to face me. "Are you warm enough?"
"To be perfectly honest? I'm freezing." The absence of the heater was looming over me, and I hugged my thin sweater closer to me as the snow pounded against the windows, trying to get in the car, like the cold had already done.
I was still sitting up on my knees, fumbling around my pack for my phone in the growing gray darkness of the car when Elliot reached forward and wrapped the soft fleece blanket around my shoulders. I smiled at him, thanking him before resuming back to my phone search. I know I had brought it, I had brought it for sure, plus the charger; I had it in my hands just two minutes ago-
"Vienna," Elliot abruptly said. "Vienna."
"What?" I turned to him.
"Two years," he said out of nowhere.
My hands were still fumbling for my phone. "What?"
"Two years, I'll be gone."
My hands freeze, and a silence spreads between us.
"...I don't get it. What are you saying?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing and closing his eyes. "I wanted to tell you sooner. I was planning on telling you the day that Eli came because I thought there was nothing there for me anymore, but...when I leave for Denmark at the end of the month, I'll stay there for two years. Maybe an extra year if I get the internship."
He explained. Elliot was applying for an undergraduate program at a law-study program in Denmark, and at the same time learning how to be chef, maybe minor in it or something. I don't know how he would do both things at once, but I guess I fell for a multitasker.
"A lawyer?" I echoed. "Elliot James...a lawyer?"
He frowned. "I know it might not seem like me at first, but I want to do something for people who can't afford to have a lawyer. Or something that deals with getting kids out of bad spots. Or investigating social cases. Something to help other people who feel helpless. I don't know, I'm still open to options, but it'll be two years in Europe before I get back to the States. Before I get back to you."
I kept eyes down, running my thumb over the hemming of the soft fleece blanket. "Two years will fly by fast," I murmured softly. "It'll be done before we know it."
"Are you sure?"
"What do you expect me to say, Elliot," I deadpanned. "That you don't want me to wait for you?"
"What I don't want is for you to feel by yourself, or feel like you have to settle with being alone," he replied.
"Is that what you think, Elliot? That I'm settling for you?"
"No. I don't think that. I meant -- what I mean to say is -- I just don't want you to feel alone when I'm gone," he tried.
I could feel my muscles tensing up, completely ignoring the fact that the cold had seeped into my clothes. "Honestly, I don't think it's fair how you don't want me to talk about when I go, but here you are, telling me about when you're leaving. I don't know what--"
He started shifting towards me, closing the gap between us and making me shut up successfully by dipping his head swiftly at angle where he could press his lips against mine, one hand on the back of my neck. My lips moved with his, naturally, until he pulled away.
"Sorry," he muttered, breathing heavily. "I don't want us fighting. Not like this."
My lips tightened, his scent on my clothes. "Yet again, you, Elliot James, have given me no warning."
He shrugged. "I find it a lot more fun when you don't know when it'll happen."
A soft smile found its way to my lips before I could stop it, betraying how bitterly lost I felt inside. Inside, I felt a sort of bitterness towards Elliot. But then again, I would be leaving too, and worse enough, I don't know when I would be back.
My hand reached up to run my fingers through his messy brown hair, my other hand trailing against his cheek. I took in the image of him, because after tomorrow in the airport, it might be my last chance for a long time. Elliot closed his eyes, letting me run my fingers on his cheek, memorizing every fault line, every soft hidden freckle, every eyelash that photographs and video could never replicate in the two years that we'd be separated from each other.
"I'm not saying goodbye, either," he said after a moment. And before I could comprehend it, both his hands reached out for my face, pulling me over to him as his lips parted and pressed against mine. This kiss was hungry compared to the others, like where I tried to memorize the imprint of his face, he tried to memorize the way my lips felt against his.
"God, I'll miss you," I whispered as our lips parted just enough.
"Me too." he muttered, before kissing me again. "Um, Vienna..."
"What?" I breathed, pulling apart.
"Is it too cold for me to take my shirt off right now?"
(Elliot does it anyway, even if the heater was off and there was a blizzard raging just outside. Other articles of clothing also came off, but I'd rather not elaborate right now.)
[ a/n ] there is a slight possibility that there are only two chapters left until elliot and vienna's story finishes :):