LOG; but my feet are slipping; ROBERT + HELENA
Our emo > your emo.
It never failed to astonish Robert when he gazed upon the Albrecht family's house. His house, a voice inside his head argued, but Robert didn't quite feel that way. He remembered buying the home with Helena after they first married. He remembered holding Karin in his arms for the first time a few years later in life. There were a lot of memories attached to this house.
But Robert did not feel welcome here. Approaching the house always filled him with unease and apprehension. The house had only been a memory to him after he became separated from his family. It had been strange enough adjusting to the knowledge his family survived after all; but that was an adjustment Robert was more than willing, and even happy, to make. This one was a lot harder to get used to. He hadn't lived there in years, how could he possibly refer to it as his house?
He swallowed and knocked on the front door, a bouquet of tulips -- Helena's favorite flower -- in his hand.
She was fooling herself. None of this would matter at all in the next month or so. But there were still things to do, things she couldn't bear to let slide, and so Helena pushed past her own fears and tried to organize things best she could.
The knock on the front door was a relief from her thoughts, and she hurriedly stacked the papers she'd been going through together and shoved them quickly into a desk drawer. In the morning, she could finish.
Helena greeted the door with a smile and a kiss for her husband, the scent of tulips a wonderful distraction. "Thank you."
Even after years apart, Robert still loved Helena with all his being. He never stopped loving her, really, not for a moment. She was still stunningly beautiful after all those years.
"I remembered they were your favorite," he said slowly, lips curving into a small smile. "Something about roses being overrated. Now I look at tulips and think of you." He gingerly handed the bouqet to her.
She took the colourful arrangement into the crook of an arm, reaching up with the other to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind her ears. "I'll get them some water..."
Helena stepped aside so Robert could let himself in and hurried to the kitchen to see if a spare vase might be around. "Would you ah... like a drink? I can fix some coffee, or maybe some... goodness I don't even know what we have!" Helena called from the kitchen, leaving the sink running to fill up the vase with some water in order for her to look for beverages.
Robert hesitantly took a step into the house. This was such an unfamiliar feeling. "Do you... Helena, are you okay?" he asked, tilting his head in the direction of the kitchen. "Can I do anything for you?" He paused and took a few more steps forward. "I can gladly give you a hand... that is, if you'd even like one to begin with," he finished awkwardly, finally arriving in the kitchen.
She stopped, peering up, her glasses having slid halfway down the bridge of her nose. Helena let herself stand there a moment longer, just, looking. Looking at her husband and how long it had really been since she had seen him here.
Helena pushed her glasses back up her nose and smiled, turning the sink off to prepare the tulips for their new home.
"I think you should move back in."
If Robert was not a man of composure, then he would've stopped in his tracks and gaped at his wife with a stupid expression on his face. But Robert did have some shreds of composure for all his apathy, and so what would've been an incredulous expression on some was a surprised look on Robert's face.
That didn't change the fact that Robert felt like he'd been hit by a speeding bus, however. Helena's request managed to shock him terribly to the very core. He had only imagined his wife or his children extending that offer to him in his wildest fantasies, but to hear Helena actually say it... for Robert, that was surrealism of the moment.
"You... I... what?"
That wasn't what she'd wanted to say, but it had been pulling at her mind for a month now. She missed him. She always had.
And she was going to die.
... It wasn't fair. But Helena smiled wider, unbunching the tulips inside the vase, letting them breathe. "It would be... well, I mean... this is still your home, Robert. Your name is still..." Helena gave a small shrug, turning back to Robert. "I, ah, understand though if you'd..."
It was still his home. Helena's words confirmed something inside him and put all his anxieties to rest.
Robert wanted this. He really did. He wanted nothing more than to be re-accepted by his wife and family like this. Yes, he knew it was impossible for things to return to exactly how they were all those years ago. But that wouldn't stop him from trying. This was the opportunity he had dreamed of.
His nervous hands reached to the cuffs of his shirt, unbuttoning and buttoning them again. "Helena... you really want me here?" he asked. Then, he mused: "I've been gone for so long... but, Helena, if you'd have me back in your life like this, then I..."
He crept up behind his wife and pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his chin on her head. "... Yes. I'd love to."
She closed her eyes and leaned back into his embrace, trying to think past everything else on her mind.
Dead. Dead. Her hands crept to his.
"... ah, I'm glad..."
"You don't know how much I missed you," he admitted. He didn't want this moment to end. "All of you."
He could sense her unease. Robert removed his head from its position, but maintained their embrace. "Helena?"
She squeezed his hands in hers, staring straight ahead to the tulips until the colours blurred together. "Just... just thinking. About things."
"Things?" Robert paused, and breathed in the scent of her. He told himself he was making up for all the lost time between them.
She had to tell him. It wasn't fair, to him or her. And didn't she know best what wasn't fair?
"Robert... you believe in all of this, don't you? That we're all involved in this end of the world?"
For a moment, he mulled over his answer. When everything started to happen, he knocked it off as coincidence. But the more destruction he heard and saw about on the Internet, the more convinced he became. "I'm starting to," he shrugged. "It's a little... surreal. But, there's enough evidence to prove me otherwise..."
Robert sighed. "I don't know. I am... well, supposedly, I am one of the Seals here in Berlin." He tightened his grip over her small frame. "But... that doesn't mean I want to fight, either."
"I..." Helena bit down on her lip for a moment. She couldn't change the subject now, but oh, how she wanted to. She wanted to express concern for their sons, their daughter, but that wouldn't change what was really going to happen.
But Robert's arms around her gave her the illusion of safety, that nothing was going to touch her, and she forced herself ahead.
"I'm going to die, Robert."
Robert's world shattered almost instantly.
"What?"
"I didn't... I thought it was some kind of... well, a joke, at first. This girl... But Elias... he knew too. He told me that I had about a month." She pulled away, out of his arms to turn and face him.
"... I'm so sorry, Robert."
"..."
A familiar feeling crept into Robert's very soul. It was a feeling, Robert grimly acknowledged, he knew all too well. It was the same feeling he experienced when he first assumed Helena and his children had died so many years ago. He felt numb. He felt hollow. But above all else, Robert felt dead inside.
He swallowed hard. "No," he said, practically whispering. "You... Helena, no, you..." Robert began to panic. Desperately, he reached into his coat pocket and took out a pack of his cigarettes and his lighter. Smoking always helped to calm his nerves, so he lit up, sat down in a nearby chair, and buried his face in his hands.
"You can't die, Helena," he said, exhaling smoke while choking back a sob. "I... I need you. I'm nothing without you."
"Robert, I..." Helena trailed off, hugging herself. "I wish I could stop it, Robert, I don't want to die and leave you again, or Karin or the twins. I don't... Robert, I'm..." She took a deep breath. "... I'm scared, Robert."
What could he say to her? That it would be okay? He couldn't tell her that. It was a lie, and he knew it. It wouldn't make anything better. It wouldn't change anything, either. So what could he tell her, really?
Robert cast away his cigarette and reached out to squeeze Helena's hand. "... I know," he said with a sad little smile. "So am I."
It never failed to astonish Robert when he gazed upon the Albrecht family's house. His house, a voice inside his head argued, but Robert didn't quite feel that way. He remembered buying the home with Helena after they first married. He remembered holding Karin in his arms for the first time a few years later in life. There were a lot of memories attached to this house.
But Robert did not feel welcome here. Approaching the house always filled him with unease and apprehension. The house had only been a memory to him after he became separated from his family. It had been strange enough adjusting to the knowledge his family survived after all; but that was an adjustment Robert was more than willing, and even happy, to make. This one was a lot harder to get used to. He hadn't lived there in years, how could he possibly refer to it as his house?
He swallowed and knocked on the front door, a bouquet of tulips -- Helena's favorite flower -- in his hand.
She was fooling herself. None of this would matter at all in the next month or so. But there were still things to do, things she couldn't bear to let slide, and so Helena pushed past her own fears and tried to organize things best she could.
The knock on the front door was a relief from her thoughts, and she hurriedly stacked the papers she'd been going through together and shoved them quickly into a desk drawer. In the morning, she could finish.
Helena greeted the door with a smile and a kiss for her husband, the scent of tulips a wonderful distraction. "Thank you."
Even after years apart, Robert still loved Helena with all his being. He never stopped loving her, really, not for a moment. She was still stunningly beautiful after all those years.
"I remembered they were your favorite," he said slowly, lips curving into a small smile. "Something about roses being overrated. Now I look at tulips and think of you." He gingerly handed the bouqet to her.
She took the colourful arrangement into the crook of an arm, reaching up with the other to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind her ears. "I'll get them some water..."
Helena stepped aside so Robert could let himself in and hurried to the kitchen to see if a spare vase might be around. "Would you ah... like a drink? I can fix some coffee, or maybe some... goodness I don't even know what we have!" Helena called from the kitchen, leaving the sink running to fill up the vase with some water in order for her to look for beverages.
Robert hesitantly took a step into the house. This was such an unfamiliar feeling. "Do you... Helena, are you okay?" he asked, tilting his head in the direction of the kitchen. "Can I do anything for you?" He paused and took a few more steps forward. "I can gladly give you a hand... that is, if you'd even like one to begin with," he finished awkwardly, finally arriving in the kitchen.
She stopped, peering up, her glasses having slid halfway down the bridge of her nose. Helena let herself stand there a moment longer, just, looking. Looking at her husband and how long it had really been since she had seen him here.
Helena pushed her glasses back up her nose and smiled, turning the sink off to prepare the tulips for their new home.
"I think you should move back in."
If Robert was not a man of composure, then he would've stopped in his tracks and gaped at his wife with a stupid expression on his face. But Robert did have some shreds of composure for all his apathy, and so what would've been an incredulous expression on some was a surprised look on Robert's face.
That didn't change the fact that Robert felt like he'd been hit by a speeding bus, however. Helena's request managed to shock him terribly to the very core. He had only imagined his wife or his children extending that offer to him in his wildest fantasies, but to hear Helena actually say it... for Robert, that was surrealism of the moment.
"You... I... what?"
That wasn't what she'd wanted to say, but it had been pulling at her mind for a month now. She missed him. She always had.
And she was going to die.
... It wasn't fair. But Helena smiled wider, unbunching the tulips inside the vase, letting them breathe. "It would be... well, I mean... this is still your home, Robert. Your name is still..." Helena gave a small shrug, turning back to Robert. "I, ah, understand though if you'd..."
It was still his home. Helena's words confirmed something inside him and put all his anxieties to rest.
Robert wanted this. He really did. He wanted nothing more than to be re-accepted by his wife and family like this. Yes, he knew it was impossible for things to return to exactly how they were all those years ago. But that wouldn't stop him from trying. This was the opportunity he had dreamed of.
His nervous hands reached to the cuffs of his shirt, unbuttoning and buttoning them again. "Helena... you really want me here?" he asked. Then, he mused: "I've been gone for so long... but, Helena, if you'd have me back in your life like this, then I..."
He crept up behind his wife and pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his chin on her head. "... Yes. I'd love to."
She closed her eyes and leaned back into his embrace, trying to think past everything else on her mind.
Dead. Dead. Her hands crept to his.
"... ah, I'm glad..."
"You don't know how much I missed you," he admitted. He didn't want this moment to end. "All of you."
He could sense her unease. Robert removed his head from its position, but maintained their embrace. "Helena?"
She squeezed his hands in hers, staring straight ahead to the tulips until the colours blurred together. "Just... just thinking. About things."
"Things?" Robert paused, and breathed in the scent of her. He told himself he was making up for all the lost time between them.
She had to tell him. It wasn't fair, to him or her. And didn't she know best what wasn't fair?
"Robert... you believe in all of this, don't you? That we're all involved in this end of the world?"
For a moment, he mulled over his answer. When everything started to happen, he knocked it off as coincidence. But the more destruction he heard and saw about on the Internet, the more convinced he became. "I'm starting to," he shrugged. "It's a little... surreal. But, there's enough evidence to prove me otherwise..."
Robert sighed. "I don't know. I am... well, supposedly, I am one of the Seals here in Berlin." He tightened his grip over her small frame. "But... that doesn't mean I want to fight, either."
"I..." Helena bit down on her lip for a moment. She couldn't change the subject now, but oh, how she wanted to. She wanted to express concern for their sons, their daughter, but that wouldn't change what was really going to happen.
But Robert's arms around her gave her the illusion of safety, that nothing was going to touch her, and she forced herself ahead.
"I'm going to die, Robert."
Robert's world shattered almost instantly.
"What?"
"I didn't... I thought it was some kind of... well, a joke, at first. This girl... But Elias... he knew too. He told me that I had about a month." She pulled away, out of his arms to turn and face him.
"... I'm so sorry, Robert."
"..."
A familiar feeling crept into Robert's very soul. It was a feeling, Robert grimly acknowledged, he knew all too well. It was the same feeling he experienced when he first assumed Helena and his children had died so many years ago. He felt numb. He felt hollow. But above all else, Robert felt dead inside.
He swallowed hard. "No," he said, practically whispering. "You... Helena, no, you..." Robert began to panic. Desperately, he reached into his coat pocket and took out a pack of his cigarettes and his lighter. Smoking always helped to calm his nerves, so he lit up, sat down in a nearby chair, and buried his face in his hands.
"You can't die, Helena," he said, exhaling smoke while choking back a sob. "I... I need you. I'm nothing without you."
"Robert, I..." Helena trailed off, hugging herself. "I wish I could stop it, Robert, I don't want to die and leave you again, or Karin or the twins. I don't... Robert, I'm..." She took a deep breath. "... I'm scared, Robert."
What could he say to her? That it would be okay? He couldn't tell her that. It was a lie, and he knew it. It wouldn't make anything better. It wouldn't change anything, either. So what could he tell her, really?
Robert cast away his cigarette and reached out to squeeze Helena's hand. "... I know," he said with a sad little smile. "So am I."