Winter Drabbles
Title: Winter Drabbles (one-off/four drabbles)
Author: deepseabed
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Nothing.
Disclaimer: It's all fantasy. It happens only in my dreams.
Feedback: Anything will be loved. ♥
I wrote four drabbles for my Christmas cards. So, some of you may have already read one of these, but I thought it would be good if I posted all of them. (I know how difficult it is to read letters printed on shiny paper!) All mistakes are mine.
I hope you like them. And I wish everyone a wonderful new year. :) ♥
I
A small fir tree. Colourful light bulbs. Candles. You played as many Christmas songs as you could remember. You even played and sang 'Happy Birthday to You' for me. You didn't have a lustrous grand piano, but you had a cheap, tiny electric keyboard. We didn't have a luxurious, large house, but we had a small flat.
After several songs, I had to make you stop playing with a kiss on your temple, before our neighbours started to bang on the door to our warm nest.
Everyone might have said we had nothing. We didn't have turkey, or Christmas pudding. But, even if they were partly right, we had our cherished dreams.
And, above all, just you were enough for me.
II
You said you couldn't sleep, because your hands and feet were so cold. You complained that it was too cold even inside this flat. And it was the first reason why I suggested you should sleep with me, in my bed. Though, of course, I had another intention, as well.
You pressed your palms flat against my back, as if you wanted to steal all my warmth from me. Just when I was about to roll over in order to do something that would make both of us warmer, you pulled your body from me. And said you wouldn't be able to sleep in this bed.
I was left utterly confused. My own bed felt much colder after you had left. So, I gave up trying to sleep, and sat up with a frustrated sigh. And then, got out of bed, vigorously.
You lifted your duvet up for me, looking too nonchalant. Nevertheless, as I slipped into your bed, you snuggled up to my body, giggling.
I didn't think your bedding was better than mine, actually it wasn't, but at the same time, I understood why you preferred it.
Your bed smelt just like you.
III
You hated cold weather. I knew that well, and understood that. But the only thing I really didn't understand was why you always forgot to wear your gloves and beanie. If I'd had another pair of gloves besides mine, of course, I would have lent you them. But who carried two pairs of gloves? Consequently, I had to take my beanie off, and put it on your head. You thanked me, with a shy smile.
Another day, you forgot to bring your gloves, again. But this time, you didn't forget a beanie. The only wrong thing was that the beanie you were wearing was seemingly mine. The one I had lent you the other day. I wanted to ask you for it, but you were acting as if nothing was wrong. So, I didn't. You shivered, my beanie seeming not enough to protect you from the cold. You moved closer to me, and then, you slipped your cold fingers into the pocket of my leather jacket.
The next day, I bought a new beanie for myself. Whilst I was in the shop, I wondered if I should buy new gloves in order to give you. In the end, I decided against it. Because, you could always use my pocket.
IV
Even in summer, you weren't willing to wash your face, brush your teeth, or take a shower. In winter, I sometimes thought it might take me ages to persuade you to do those things. You often climbed into bed, even without taking off those wrinkled clothes which I didn't want to know how many days you had been wearing. If this hadn't been you, I wouldn't have minded at all and would have kicked them out. But, in fact, it was you, and there would be no way for me to kiss you or sleep with you, if you didn't do all these things. You said it was unfair. You said I should love you, together with your tiny faults. You claimed that I didn't really love you. I said nothing, but I stopped mothering you. Stopped telling you I loved you. Stopped touching you.
On a freezing cold night, you sneaked into my bed, and scratched my arm lightly, with your nails. I complained that you hadn't cut your fingernails and they hurt me, and you argued that I hadn't told you to do so. I sighed, audibly. And, pulled your face to mine, possessively, tangling my fingers in your wet hair.
Your lips tasted like mint, which made me smirk.