The Graceful Art of Losing It (Will/Emma, PG)
Title: The Graceful Art of Losing It
Author: vlegal
Rating: PG
Summary: Will awaits Emma's return from a roadtrip during a freak blizzard.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters. They are the property of Fox and Ryan Murphy and I intend no rights infringement.
Notes: Hi, kids. I've been creeping this fandom for quite some time, and reading fanfic for longer than I care to admit to. I have completely fallen in love with Wemma and decided it's high time I throw my hat into the fic ring. I would love to hear any and all comments on the story, if you feel so inclined. Uber, gigantic thanks to madeinsekrit for editing and being sooooo helpful. Your chocolate chip cyber cookies are baking in the oven :)
He had given up pacing the condo hours ago. He realized on his fourteenth tour of the five rooms that nothing in them was changing or required observation. Everything else he could do had been done, and then some. Now he just sat, head in hands, doing the only thing left: freaking out.
Freaking out was not something Will Schuester did on a regular basis. Quite the opposite. He was the voice of reason. The calm in others’ storms. Steady as she goes. Don’t rock the boat.
Hmmm, ship metaphors. Yup, Will was definitely freaking out.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. Emma Pillsbury was a skilled driver and navigator, he knew this firsthand. It was everything else he didn’t trust. The other drivers. The highway patrol. The mechanics who last tuned-up her car. The snow. The sleet. The ice.
He seriously didn’t trust the ice.
He’d been fine when she left for Virginia last week. A little sad, but fine. She called whenever she stopped for a bathroom break or gas, mainly to complain of the abhorrent conditions of the truck stop or bemoan leaving him. But he’d reminded her that her favourite aunt only turned 75 once, and she was lucky that the party/family reunion coincided with spring break. Late April was a perfect time for a little road trip. She should relish the time off, enjoy the drive, and have a good time with her family.
But now, 6 days and 14 hours later, Will regretted every word. He should have told her it was too far. He should have known (using his amazing psychic abilities, obviously) that a freak blizzard would wreak havoc in the northeast in the middle of spring. He should have told her to fly to Virginia, offered to cover the cost of her airfare. He should have gone with her to split the driving. Or he should have just kept her in his arms in Ohio and never let go.
The bliss of Emma in his arms was a discovery that Will still couldn’t fully comprehend. Sure, he’d held Terri countless times in their relationship. Although, it was usually pre- or post-sex. As an activity in and of itself, Terri had little interest in snuggling up to Will. She liked her personal space, her “me time” before “us time”. She viewed being held by Will as a necessity of their relationship to make him happy on occasion. Like buying his favourite beer or filing a joint tax return.
If he was being totally honest with himself, Will was a cuddler. He loved being wrapped around his partner, breathing her in. So when things finally got on the right track with Emma, Will had looked forward to the opportunity to curl up with her on the couch and, eventually, in bed. What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was how holding this woman would affect him completely.
Emma, in contrast to Terri, was more than content to spend entire evenings in Will’s arms. She never resisted his touch, always reaching to pull his other arm tighter around herself. The physical aspect of their relationship had had to progress slowly, a fact that Will was ever respectful of since Emma told him she wanted to “give this another try”. But once she had become relaxed and comfortable enough to nuzzle her face in the crook of his neck, mould her body to fit tightly with his, Will knew he was done for. Never had he felt so whole, so consumed by one person. Emma didn’t reach for him in the middle of the night just because she wanted sex (though, if she did, he was more than happy to oblige…), and she didn’t keep a close eye on the time, pulling out of his embrace as soon as Dateline started. Emma craved Will’s touch as much as he yearned to touch her. And her returned caresses assured him that not only did she enjoy being close to him, she needed to feel that connection as much as he did. That was enough for Will. Holding Emma was his heroine, and this prolonged withdrawal was getting unpleasant.
She’d texted him at 5:30 that morning to let him know she was hitting the road. The drive usually took 10 or 11 hours, so he should expect her around 5pm, accounting for breaks and traffic. More likely 6. Will swung his head towards the microwave to do a time check. 3:47am. Fuck.
The snow had started around noon in Ohio and according to Mr. Smiley Face the Meteorologist on the local news, the storm was traveling east, gaining momentum. It had swooped down from Canada unexpectedly. ‘Shouldn’t we be keeping a closer eye out for Canadian sneak attacks?’ Will had thought earlier in the afternoon with a bit of a chuckle. Now he was contemplating writing a letter directly to the Prime Minister’s Office to channel his rage. And fear.
He’d been confronted with the prospect of life without Emma before. But that was always due to his screw-ups. Pushing her too far, too soon. Regrettable make-out sessions with raven-haired choir directors. Impromptu sleepovers with drunken wash-outs. In those instances, he’d deserved to lose her, this he knew. And while the pain of having her turn away from him was great, it wasn’t like she ceased to exist. He’d thought they had no hope, but he could still catch glimpses of fiery red curls turning a corner at school, see her signature on appointment notes his students handed him, or even catch her eye as he passed her office. She may not have been his, but she was there and that was enough for him to keep it together.
This situation was entirely different. What if the last time he actually physically saw her was when she closed the car door last week? Was their brief phone call 2 days ago the last time he would hear her voice? He had kissed her before she left, right? Told her that he loved her, that he was IN love with her? That he would do anything to make her happy, whether it be scrub down the apartment with his bare hands and a toothbrush, or stroke her hair and help her count to one hundred when things got too messy. Anything, if it meant she felt happy and safe and content. With him. She knew that, right?
He hadn’t started to wonder until about 7:30pm. Driving part way across the country wasn’t an exact science. Traffic jams happen. Hold-ups occur. Timelines get skewed. So Will knew better than to be sitting at the door, tail wagging, right at 5. But at 7:30, he pulled out his cell to check for missed calls or texts. Nothing. A bit of a departure from her trip down there, but he chalked it up to being tired and just wanting to come home. She probably made fewer stops, thus fewer calls along the way (ie. none).
Will became a needy boyfriend for the first time in his life at 9:12pm. He was never the clingy sort, and found it rather offensive when he heard of men demanding their girlfriends check in frequently and let them know of their whereabouts at all times. He’d told himself all evening that Emma would call when she was able and there was no need to hound her for being a little bit late. But at 9:10, he really just wanted to hear her voice and know that she was still on her way back to him. An inner battle was waged for 2 minutes, of which Will both won and lost. He felt foolish leaving the message (“Hey, it’s me. Haven’t heard from you. Just wanted to know where you are. Not that I’m trying to keeps tabs on you! I just……call me if you can….”), but was somewhat comforted hearing her voice, even if it was pre-recorded. That comfort lasted until 9:14, when he realized that the call had gone straight to voicemail. For the first time since he’d known her, Emma didn’t have her phone on.
At 11pm, he flicked on the late night news. More reports on the storm, this time with fresh footage of the multiple pile-ups and spin-outs across the highways. That’s when Will started to get nauseous. A scene showing a small, blue Honda lying on its side in a ditch made his eyes go wide and had Will reaching for the phone once again. A rational voice in his head tried to tell him that there were thousands of that car owned by different people across the country, but that voice was drowned out by a much louder, terrified one that screamed it was Emma’s car. Trying her cell, he once again got voicemail. Taking a deep breath and telling himself that he was being overprotective and crazy, but knowing if he didn’t make this next call, he might actually throw-up, Will dialed 411, asking to be connected to the Highway Patrol.
By 1:34am, no one from Highway Patrol in Ohio, Pennsylvania, or Virginia had called him with any new reports of blue Hondas with red haired women in them being found at the side of the road. The car he’d seen on the news had belonged to a college kid, driving too fast for the slippery conditions. The kid was fine, and Will was able to swallow his nausea for the time being.
As the clock ticked on, the edges of his nerves started to fray once more. There was one more call he could make, but steadfastedly refused to. If she had turned around and gone back to her parents’ house, Emma would have most certainly called. Phoning the Pillsburys at 2 in the morning, just to see if by chance she had ended up back there, would only lead to bad things. If she wasn’t there, he would certainly cause more upset than he was experiencing now. If he did end up having to call them, it couldn’t be with the simple question of what time she’d left and if they’d heard from her. No, if he ended up calling her parents, it would only be to tell them that, yes, something had happened. Something….unfathomable. God, how would he even make a call like that? If Emma was…gone…he was fairly certain he wouldn’t even be able to stand, let alone form a coherent sentence. What would he do without her? Seriously, how do you start filling a gaping hole in your chest? Because that’s what he’d be left with. Do you scream? Madly fill the hole with anything and everything? Or just let it gape? He’d never really thought about it.
Until tonight.
Through all of his internal melodrama, Will didn’t hear the lock in the door click at 4:03, followed by the rustle of jackets, snow boots and luggage.
“Will, are you still up?” Her voice was so soft, Will thought maybe he’d invented it as another way to comfort himself. This didn’t stop him from launching out of the kitchen chair into the front hall. His entire body froze as he stared at the vision before him.
Emma struggled to get her cumbersome suitcase through the door while simultaneously getting her key out of the lock. Her hair frizzed out from beneath a hand-knit toque, clearly dampened from the weather. Her face looked drained and tired, likely from a stressful drive. The rest of her body was one shapeless mass under an oversized parka and a practical-looking pair of men’s boots.
She was so beautiful, Will could hardly breathe.
In a moment, he was before her, helping her slide the oversided coat off her slim frame. Will knew some sort of greeting would be appropriate at this moment, but the utter relief that was washing over him made his throat feel dry and thick. He let her steady herself on his forearms as she wobbled out of the boots, describing her adventure to him as she struggled.
“It’s April. April! What kind of fool avoids a roadtrip in the middle of spring because of the slight chance of a freak blizzard?! Clearly not me. My dad kept saying it smelled like snow, but did I listen? Nooooo. I’m so glad I let Mom throw this old snow gear in the back of the car before I left, or I probably would have froze. Can you believe that the storm knocked out cell service across 3 states? Every time I managed to go a couple miles, I tried calling you, but the stupid piece of crap just buzzed in my ear.” At this Emma threw the offending cellphone towards the sofa, where it fell with a dejected thud. “And all the weatherman and the news kept telling me was that it was snowing and traffic was stuck. Uh, ya! I got that. Thanks. I think this was seriously the longest trip of my life. The highway patrol guys kept telling everyone to just give up and find a motel, but….ick. No. I just want our bed. I’m never leaving this apartment again.”
Having finally gotten the heavy boots off, Emma raised her head and gave Will a surprisingly bright smile considering the time of night/morning and the ordeal she’d been through.
“Hi,” she grinned.
“Hi,” he responded, half chuckle, half sob. At the same time, he pulled her into him, one hand threading into the hair at the base of her head, the other arm circling fully around her waist. Her arms easily came around his back and she sighed into the embrace. It wasn’t until she felt his halting breath against her neck and the shudder that ran through his body that Emma pulled away slightly.
“Will? What’s wrong?” She studied him closely, but he kept his head bowed, trying to compose himself. He felt completely ridiculous, letting his mind run like he had and thinking the worst, let alone convincing himself that he had actually lost her. But at that moment, he felt all of the adrenaline that had apparently been running through his body drain away. He was left feeling relieved, yet fundamentally shaken. If he’d been more put together, he would have caught the tear that fell towards the floor before it started rolling down his cheek. Before Emma could see it.
“What…..Will, what’s going on? Did something happen?” At his silence, she continued. “Is someone hurt? Is it your parents? Is it….did my mom call, is it Dad?”
Will lifted his head as more and more concern filled Emma’s voice. Wiping at his nose with a sniffle, but still not allowing his eyes to meet Emma’s, Will shook his head.
“No,” he let out in a raspy voice, clearly affected by tears. “No, everything’s fine. Everyone’s ok. You’re…you’re ok….” This last statement was made more to himself, as a way to reassure his brain that it was ok to relax and calm down. Will dropped his head once again in mixed relief and shame.
“Sweetie, you’re crying. Everything’s not fine.” Emma brought her hands up to cup his face, simultaneously lifting his head so his eyes would meet hers and wiping at his tears with her thumbs. Will gave her a watery smile and with a soft laugh, tried to explain his current demeanor without sounding completely pathetic.
“It’s just……the snow and……the news was showing all of the accidents…..it got so late and your phone was off…..and I guess……..I guess I just…..” Will trailed off, unable to accurately describe exactly what was causing him to melt down like this.
“You panicked,” Emma finished for him. “Oh god, you’ve been sitting here having a panic attack, haven’t you?”
“Is that what this is?”
“Did your brain run off in a million different directions? Assuming the worst case scenario was the only possibility? It hurt to breathe and your stomach was churning? And now that the worst hasn’t happened, you just want to collapse in a puddle?”
“Basically.” Of course Emma would be able to articulate exactly what was going on, seeing as she must confront this feeling on a daily basis (though the leaps and bounds she had made over the last year with her anxiety were astonishing….). If this is what Emma went through with her mysophobia, but was able to remain the confident, accomplished, incredible woman that was before him, Will had vastly underestimated just how strong Emma Pillsbury was. A couple of hours feeling this way and Will was a disaster.
“Come on.” Emma slid her hands down Will’s arms and threaded their fingers together, backing down the hall towards their bedroom, flicking off the hall light as they went. Will glanced behind him at the discarded outer gear and luggage that Emma hadn’t even attempted to put away, evidence of the strength and progress Will saw in her.
Emma led him through the bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed. She proceeded to unceremoniously strip off her clothes, down to her bra and panties. ‘God, she's gorgeous,’ Will thought absently, as he only had the energy to sit and stare at her. Emma made quick work of folding the clothes, not able to entirely shake her need for neatness, and placed them on a nearby chair. Will had been in his pajamas since about midnight, but as Emma turned to face him again, she grabbed the hem of his soft t-shirt and tugged it up. Will lifted his arms, like a child, and allowed her to pull it over his head and add it to the pile on the chair. Apparently bare-chested in pajama bottoms was how she wanted him, because he watched quietly as Emma turned her attention to pulling the duvet down on the bed and arranging pillows. She then crawled in, positioning herself higher on the pillows than she usually would.
“Come here,” she stated simply.
Will could see her wide eyes glisten in the dim light from the street lamp outside. Never breaking her gaze, Will eased into bed next to her, running his hand across the smoothness of her stomach and tangling his warm feet with her cold ones. As his head came to rest on her shoulder so his mouth was in the perfect spot to graze at her collarbone, Emma slid her arms around his shoulders and torso, pulling him tighter to her. Will deeply inhaled the scent of her neck and let his eyes drift shut. While he had thought he was addicted to holding Emma, he never realized that his addiction could be expanded to being held by her in return. But apparently it could, because he’d never felt as safe and comforted as he did at that moment.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t pull over somewhere and call,” she whispered. “I hate to think I put you through….that.”
He gently kissed her neck and shoulder before responding.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Just….don’t let go.” He felt Emma’s slender arms tighten around him as she buried her nose in his hair. He felt the exhaustion from the evening finally catch up with him as Emma’s heart rhythmically pulsed beneath his ear. Just as he was at the edge of drifting off, her voice roused him again.
“You know how much I love you, right?”
The irony of her question wasn’t lost on him, as his lips curved into a smile along her jaw.
"If it's half as much as I love you, then ya, I know....."
************************************************************************************************
Loved it? Hated it? Would love to hear from you :)
Author: vlegal
Rating: PG
Summary: Will awaits Emma's return from a roadtrip during a freak blizzard.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters. They are the property of Fox and Ryan Murphy and I intend no rights infringement.
Notes: Hi, kids. I've been creeping this fandom for quite some time, and reading fanfic for longer than I care to admit to. I have completely fallen in love with Wemma and decided it's high time I throw my hat into the fic ring. I would love to hear any and all comments on the story, if you feel so inclined. Uber, gigantic thanks to madeinsekrit for editing and being sooooo helpful. Your chocolate chip cyber cookies are baking in the oven :)
He had given up pacing the condo hours ago. He realized on his fourteenth tour of the five rooms that nothing in them was changing or required observation. Everything else he could do had been done, and then some. Now he just sat, head in hands, doing the only thing left: freaking out.
Freaking out was not something Will Schuester did on a regular basis. Quite the opposite. He was the voice of reason. The calm in others’ storms. Steady as she goes. Don’t rock the boat.
Hmmm, ship metaphors. Yup, Will was definitely freaking out.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. Emma Pillsbury was a skilled driver and navigator, he knew this firsthand. It was everything else he didn’t trust. The other drivers. The highway patrol. The mechanics who last tuned-up her car. The snow. The sleet. The ice.
He seriously didn’t trust the ice.
He’d been fine when she left for Virginia last week. A little sad, but fine. She called whenever she stopped for a bathroom break or gas, mainly to complain of the abhorrent conditions of the truck stop or bemoan leaving him. But he’d reminded her that her favourite aunt only turned 75 once, and she was lucky that the party/family reunion coincided with spring break. Late April was a perfect time for a little road trip. She should relish the time off, enjoy the drive, and have a good time with her family.
But now, 6 days and 14 hours later, Will regretted every word. He should have told her it was too far. He should have known (using his amazing psychic abilities, obviously) that a freak blizzard would wreak havoc in the northeast in the middle of spring. He should have told her to fly to Virginia, offered to cover the cost of her airfare. He should have gone with her to split the driving. Or he should have just kept her in his arms in Ohio and never let go.
The bliss of Emma in his arms was a discovery that Will still couldn’t fully comprehend. Sure, he’d held Terri countless times in their relationship. Although, it was usually pre- or post-sex. As an activity in and of itself, Terri had little interest in snuggling up to Will. She liked her personal space, her “me time” before “us time”. She viewed being held by Will as a necessity of their relationship to make him happy on occasion. Like buying his favourite beer or filing a joint tax return.
If he was being totally honest with himself, Will was a cuddler. He loved being wrapped around his partner, breathing her in. So when things finally got on the right track with Emma, Will had looked forward to the opportunity to curl up with her on the couch and, eventually, in bed. What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was how holding this woman would affect him completely.
Emma, in contrast to Terri, was more than content to spend entire evenings in Will’s arms. She never resisted his touch, always reaching to pull his other arm tighter around herself. The physical aspect of their relationship had had to progress slowly, a fact that Will was ever respectful of since Emma told him she wanted to “give this another try”. But once she had become relaxed and comfortable enough to nuzzle her face in the crook of his neck, mould her body to fit tightly with his, Will knew he was done for. Never had he felt so whole, so consumed by one person. Emma didn’t reach for him in the middle of the night just because she wanted sex (though, if she did, he was more than happy to oblige…), and she didn’t keep a close eye on the time, pulling out of his embrace as soon as Dateline started. Emma craved Will’s touch as much as he yearned to touch her. And her returned caresses assured him that not only did she enjoy being close to him, she needed to feel that connection as much as he did. That was enough for Will. Holding Emma was his heroine, and this prolonged withdrawal was getting unpleasant.
She’d texted him at 5:30 that morning to let him know she was hitting the road. The drive usually took 10 or 11 hours, so he should expect her around 5pm, accounting for breaks and traffic. More likely 6. Will swung his head towards the microwave to do a time check. 3:47am. Fuck.
The snow had started around noon in Ohio and according to Mr. Smiley Face the Meteorologist on the local news, the storm was traveling east, gaining momentum. It had swooped down from Canada unexpectedly. ‘Shouldn’t we be keeping a closer eye out for Canadian sneak attacks?’ Will had thought earlier in the afternoon with a bit of a chuckle. Now he was contemplating writing a letter directly to the Prime Minister’s Office to channel his rage. And fear.
He’d been confronted with the prospect of life without Emma before. But that was always due to his screw-ups. Pushing her too far, too soon. Regrettable make-out sessions with raven-haired choir directors. Impromptu sleepovers with drunken wash-outs. In those instances, he’d deserved to lose her, this he knew. And while the pain of having her turn away from him was great, it wasn’t like she ceased to exist. He’d thought they had no hope, but he could still catch glimpses of fiery red curls turning a corner at school, see her signature on appointment notes his students handed him, or even catch her eye as he passed her office. She may not have been his, but she was there and that was enough for him to keep it together.
This situation was entirely different. What if the last time he actually physically saw her was when she closed the car door last week? Was their brief phone call 2 days ago the last time he would hear her voice? He had kissed her before she left, right? Told her that he loved her, that he was IN love with her? That he would do anything to make her happy, whether it be scrub down the apartment with his bare hands and a toothbrush, or stroke her hair and help her count to one hundred when things got too messy. Anything, if it meant she felt happy and safe and content. With him. She knew that, right?
He hadn’t started to wonder until about 7:30pm. Driving part way across the country wasn’t an exact science. Traffic jams happen. Hold-ups occur. Timelines get skewed. So Will knew better than to be sitting at the door, tail wagging, right at 5. But at 7:30, he pulled out his cell to check for missed calls or texts. Nothing. A bit of a departure from her trip down there, but he chalked it up to being tired and just wanting to come home. She probably made fewer stops, thus fewer calls along the way (ie. none).
Will became a needy boyfriend for the first time in his life at 9:12pm. He was never the clingy sort, and found it rather offensive when he heard of men demanding their girlfriends check in frequently and let them know of their whereabouts at all times. He’d told himself all evening that Emma would call when she was able and there was no need to hound her for being a little bit late. But at 9:10, he really just wanted to hear her voice and know that she was still on her way back to him. An inner battle was waged for 2 minutes, of which Will both won and lost. He felt foolish leaving the message (“Hey, it’s me. Haven’t heard from you. Just wanted to know where you are. Not that I’m trying to keeps tabs on you! I just……call me if you can….”), but was somewhat comforted hearing her voice, even if it was pre-recorded. That comfort lasted until 9:14, when he realized that the call had gone straight to voicemail. For the first time since he’d known her, Emma didn’t have her phone on.
At 11pm, he flicked on the late night news. More reports on the storm, this time with fresh footage of the multiple pile-ups and spin-outs across the highways. That’s when Will started to get nauseous. A scene showing a small, blue Honda lying on its side in a ditch made his eyes go wide and had Will reaching for the phone once again. A rational voice in his head tried to tell him that there were thousands of that car owned by different people across the country, but that voice was drowned out by a much louder, terrified one that screamed it was Emma’s car. Trying her cell, he once again got voicemail. Taking a deep breath and telling himself that he was being overprotective and crazy, but knowing if he didn’t make this next call, he might actually throw-up, Will dialed 411, asking to be connected to the Highway Patrol.
By 1:34am, no one from Highway Patrol in Ohio, Pennsylvania, or Virginia had called him with any new reports of blue Hondas with red haired women in them being found at the side of the road. The car he’d seen on the news had belonged to a college kid, driving too fast for the slippery conditions. The kid was fine, and Will was able to swallow his nausea for the time being.
As the clock ticked on, the edges of his nerves started to fray once more. There was one more call he could make, but steadfastedly refused to. If she had turned around and gone back to her parents’ house, Emma would have most certainly called. Phoning the Pillsburys at 2 in the morning, just to see if by chance she had ended up back there, would only lead to bad things. If she wasn’t there, he would certainly cause more upset than he was experiencing now. If he did end up having to call them, it couldn’t be with the simple question of what time she’d left and if they’d heard from her. No, if he ended up calling her parents, it would only be to tell them that, yes, something had happened. Something….unfathomable. God, how would he even make a call like that? If Emma was…gone…he was fairly certain he wouldn’t even be able to stand, let alone form a coherent sentence. What would he do without her? Seriously, how do you start filling a gaping hole in your chest? Because that’s what he’d be left with. Do you scream? Madly fill the hole with anything and everything? Or just let it gape? He’d never really thought about it.
Until tonight.
Through all of his internal melodrama, Will didn’t hear the lock in the door click at 4:03, followed by the rustle of jackets, snow boots and luggage.
“Will, are you still up?” Her voice was so soft, Will thought maybe he’d invented it as another way to comfort himself. This didn’t stop him from launching out of the kitchen chair into the front hall. His entire body froze as he stared at the vision before him.
Emma struggled to get her cumbersome suitcase through the door while simultaneously getting her key out of the lock. Her hair frizzed out from beneath a hand-knit toque, clearly dampened from the weather. Her face looked drained and tired, likely from a stressful drive. The rest of her body was one shapeless mass under an oversized parka and a practical-looking pair of men’s boots.
She was so beautiful, Will could hardly breathe.
In a moment, he was before her, helping her slide the oversided coat off her slim frame. Will knew some sort of greeting would be appropriate at this moment, but the utter relief that was washing over him made his throat feel dry and thick. He let her steady herself on his forearms as she wobbled out of the boots, describing her adventure to him as she struggled.
“It’s April. April! What kind of fool avoids a roadtrip in the middle of spring because of the slight chance of a freak blizzard?! Clearly not me. My dad kept saying it smelled like snow, but did I listen? Nooooo. I’m so glad I let Mom throw this old snow gear in the back of the car before I left, or I probably would have froze. Can you believe that the storm knocked out cell service across 3 states? Every time I managed to go a couple miles, I tried calling you, but the stupid piece of crap just buzzed in my ear.” At this Emma threw the offending cellphone towards the sofa, where it fell with a dejected thud. “And all the weatherman and the news kept telling me was that it was snowing and traffic was stuck. Uh, ya! I got that. Thanks. I think this was seriously the longest trip of my life. The highway patrol guys kept telling everyone to just give up and find a motel, but….ick. No. I just want our bed. I’m never leaving this apartment again.”
Having finally gotten the heavy boots off, Emma raised her head and gave Will a surprisingly bright smile considering the time of night/morning and the ordeal she’d been through.
“Hi,” she grinned.
“Hi,” he responded, half chuckle, half sob. At the same time, he pulled her into him, one hand threading into the hair at the base of her head, the other arm circling fully around her waist. Her arms easily came around his back and she sighed into the embrace. It wasn’t until she felt his halting breath against her neck and the shudder that ran through his body that Emma pulled away slightly.
“Will? What’s wrong?” She studied him closely, but he kept his head bowed, trying to compose himself. He felt completely ridiculous, letting his mind run like he had and thinking the worst, let alone convincing himself that he had actually lost her. But at that moment, he felt all of the adrenaline that had apparently been running through his body drain away. He was left feeling relieved, yet fundamentally shaken. If he’d been more put together, he would have caught the tear that fell towards the floor before it started rolling down his cheek. Before Emma could see it.
“What…..Will, what’s going on? Did something happen?” At his silence, she continued. “Is someone hurt? Is it your parents? Is it….did my mom call, is it Dad?”
Will lifted his head as more and more concern filled Emma’s voice. Wiping at his nose with a sniffle, but still not allowing his eyes to meet Emma’s, Will shook his head.
“No,” he let out in a raspy voice, clearly affected by tears. “No, everything’s fine. Everyone’s ok. You’re…you’re ok….” This last statement was made more to himself, as a way to reassure his brain that it was ok to relax and calm down. Will dropped his head once again in mixed relief and shame.
“Sweetie, you’re crying. Everything’s not fine.” Emma brought her hands up to cup his face, simultaneously lifting his head so his eyes would meet hers and wiping at his tears with her thumbs. Will gave her a watery smile and with a soft laugh, tried to explain his current demeanor without sounding completely pathetic.
“It’s just……the snow and……the news was showing all of the accidents…..it got so late and your phone was off…..and I guess……..I guess I just…..” Will trailed off, unable to accurately describe exactly what was causing him to melt down like this.
“You panicked,” Emma finished for him. “Oh god, you’ve been sitting here having a panic attack, haven’t you?”
“Is that what this is?”
“Did your brain run off in a million different directions? Assuming the worst case scenario was the only possibility? It hurt to breathe and your stomach was churning? And now that the worst hasn’t happened, you just want to collapse in a puddle?”
“Basically.” Of course Emma would be able to articulate exactly what was going on, seeing as she must confront this feeling on a daily basis (though the leaps and bounds she had made over the last year with her anxiety were astonishing….). If this is what Emma went through with her mysophobia, but was able to remain the confident, accomplished, incredible woman that was before him, Will had vastly underestimated just how strong Emma Pillsbury was. A couple of hours feeling this way and Will was a disaster.
“Come on.” Emma slid her hands down Will’s arms and threaded their fingers together, backing down the hall towards their bedroom, flicking off the hall light as they went. Will glanced behind him at the discarded outer gear and luggage that Emma hadn’t even attempted to put away, evidence of the strength and progress Will saw in her.
Emma led him through the bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed. She proceeded to unceremoniously strip off her clothes, down to her bra and panties. ‘God, she's gorgeous,’ Will thought absently, as he only had the energy to sit and stare at her. Emma made quick work of folding the clothes, not able to entirely shake her need for neatness, and placed them on a nearby chair. Will had been in his pajamas since about midnight, but as Emma turned to face him again, she grabbed the hem of his soft t-shirt and tugged it up. Will lifted his arms, like a child, and allowed her to pull it over his head and add it to the pile on the chair. Apparently bare-chested in pajama bottoms was how she wanted him, because he watched quietly as Emma turned her attention to pulling the duvet down on the bed and arranging pillows. She then crawled in, positioning herself higher on the pillows than she usually would.
“Come here,” she stated simply.
Will could see her wide eyes glisten in the dim light from the street lamp outside. Never breaking her gaze, Will eased into bed next to her, running his hand across the smoothness of her stomach and tangling his warm feet with her cold ones. As his head came to rest on her shoulder so his mouth was in the perfect spot to graze at her collarbone, Emma slid her arms around his shoulders and torso, pulling him tighter to her. Will deeply inhaled the scent of her neck and let his eyes drift shut. While he had thought he was addicted to holding Emma, he never realized that his addiction could be expanded to being held by her in return. But apparently it could, because he’d never felt as safe and comforted as he did at that moment.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t pull over somewhere and call,” she whispered. “I hate to think I put you through….that.”
He gently kissed her neck and shoulder before responding.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Just….don’t let go.” He felt Emma’s slender arms tighten around him as she buried her nose in his hair. He felt the exhaustion from the evening finally catch up with him as Emma’s heart rhythmically pulsed beneath his ear. Just as he was at the edge of drifting off, her voice roused him again.
“You know how much I love you, right?”
The irony of her question wasn’t lost on him, as his lips curved into a smile along her jaw.
"If it's half as much as I love you, then ya, I know....."
************************************************************************************************
Loved it? Hated it? Would love to hear from you :)