Ch. 9
“Hey.”
Willow’s eyes snap up from Buffy, connecting with mine in a startled expression. Her eyes turn from anxious to almost frightened as they dart from me to Buffy, who is apparently still too engrossed in their previous conversation to notice my quiet arrival.
“Will, come on. You don’t understand. Look, she-”
“Buffy!”
My voice surprises me with the high, wavering tone I didn’t know I was capable of reaching.
Our friend whirls on me, a frustrated glare holding only a hint of relief at my presence.
She glances indecisively from me to Willow several times before stomping her foot in a show of aggravation that almost makes me laugh through my anxiousness and detachment.
Willow looks almost as helpless and nervous as I imagine I appear right about now. I catch myself observing how adorable she looks when she’s panicked and mentally slap myself back into line.
Buffy settles her gaze on me after a moment of watching Willow and I study each other, her tone worrying me with the urgency and seriousness it still betrays.
“Tara, look, I know I promised, but you gotta let me tell her. She-”
“Buffy!”
Willow’s voice surpasses my own even in pitch and worry as her eyes go wide and she echoes my earlier warning to our friend.
I try to ignore the humongous rising in my heart at that fact. They could have been talking about anything. Anything.
But no matter how many times I repeat that to my rational mind, I still cannot help but hope that maybe…
Buffy’s frustrated groan comes out as more of a roar than anything else as she is interrupted a second time. Her head is buried in her hands, fingers running jerkily through her hair as she turns an accusing glare to both of us.
“You two-” her voice matches her frustrated posture and is not a comfort to either of us, especially to me as I battle with my ever-wavering resolution to tell Willow.
I wonder how much easier it would be to simply not interrupt Buffy the next time, to have our friend reveal everything that I find myself so frightened and hesitant to say. But I can’t do that, I can’t take that way, or any way, out of what I need to do.
“-are probably the most clueless people I have ever met. Can’t you see that-”
“Buffy!”
Our joined voices rise above her dangerous comment, each of us turning to the other in surprise at our matching, strangled yells.
“Can you guys please stop that?!” She faces our similarly distraught expressions as her hand returns to massaging her forehead and she paces past me into Willow’s room.
“Fine.” Her voice is calmer now, more controlled.
She whirls on us as she reaches the doorway, her expression firm.
“But you guys need to talk. Now.”
And we are left alone in the hall, trading nervous, questioning glances while I debate inwardly one last time.
My heart, mind, and soul all seem to pull me in different directions, stretching the moral fiber that I have left until I want to simply give in and collapse into her, and sob out all of my wishes and insecurities in her arms. But I can’t; I won’t let myself.
I can sense her watching me, and finally bring my gaze up to meet hers, only praying she doesn’t see the conflict and grief raging so fiercely in my eyes.
I can battle with myself, I can deny my heart free reign, but my decision on this is already made. I can do this. And even if I can’t, I have to, some way.
But that doesn’t make the first words, the tiny steps that I know will lead to finally opening up completely… it doesn’t make them any easier.
The words of caring, the yearning that, once revealed, will bare me to the final emotions and depths that I posses, stick in my throat as I meet her deep green eyes, surfacing only far enough to shine unrestrained out of my eyes for the first time.
And still I cannot get my voice to work properly, to communicate what I so desperately need to tell her and so heavily doubt my reason to.
Willow’s mouth works open and closed helplessly a couple of times before she speaks shakily.
“I…” Her voice breaks apart when she tries to continue and indecision and conflict play across her expression, before twisting into a frown.
“I…” Her features slump in defeat when it becomes apparent that she isn’t going to be able to finish her sentence, and we fall back into the nervous silence for a moment.
“I guess she’s right.” It takes me several seconds to realize that she is referring to Buffy’s parting comment, and all I can manage is a broken nod in reply as I swallow with difficulty, futilely attempting to return any moisture to my paper dry mouth.
After about a minute of trading nervous glances paired with defeated moments of studying the surprisingly interesting carpet, it becomes apparent that neither of us is going to voluntarily speak first; at least not for a while.
The tense, heavy silence seems to physically coat the air, building pressure in my chest as I try to force the confession out of my unresponsive mouth.
I can feel my walls slowly starting to rebuild themselves in our distant, anxious demeanor. Unlike before, though, I do not embrace this cold feeling of safety.
I have to do this, I have to make myself get through this.
But I can almost touch the guarded vision I can feel the pictures in her hall seem to fix on me, almost breath in the thick, suppressing atmosphere of memories in this house.
I can’t do it here, not alongside all these familiar surroundings and principles, not where there are so many things; just simple, touching feelings brought back from all the times we had shared here, that remind exactly what I am risking, what I stand to lose when I finally stop hiding.
But I still have to do something; I would just as easily be destroying the bond that I hold so dear by continuing to deceive her. In this frustrating, ever-shifting maze of cracked and dirty mirrors, that much, at least, is finally clear.
How long have we stood here, thinking, worrying, waiting in nervous silence for something to happen? Because nothing is going to start unless one of us actually does something.
My dry throat seems to have jagged edges, to catch all of the words that instinctively want so badly to spill from my mouth, and the atmosphere, still heavy with cherished memories, only adds to the hard resistance in my chest.
“Wanna walk?” Somehow I can force these words out, even their insignificant meaning weighed and balanced inside until I can barely manage to speak for fear of consequences so distorted and exaggerated in my mind.
The hopeful, light lilt that usually comes so easily to my voice while around her sounds strained and distorted even to my own ears, warped by the tremendous pressure building steadily inside of me.
She hesitates for a brief second before giving a gentle nod and genuine attempt at a smile, motioning for me to follow her down the hall.
I trail behind her silently, struggling desperately to ignore the nervous pounding in my ears and shortness of breath as I attempt to gather the scattered remains of my resolution and courage. This is it. I can wait to reach the clear, crisp night air, and pull my mind from everything I am risking, but I can only hold out for so long.
My time is up, tonight is here. I’m telling her now.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Individual snowflakes highlight the strands of silky hair where they land, hugging the red color and blending with it, calling out so clearly to me to brush them back that I can almost feel the sleek texture and warmth mixed with pinpoints of pure, white ice underneath my palm aching to touch her.
The cold slicing so easily through my light shirt comes as a welcome distraction from the millions of nervous sensations and thoughts racing through me.
My stomach flips undecidedly, stretching me between the sick, numbing dread and the light, tingling pocket of hope still stubbornly residing within my heart.
I can’t decide which one is worse.
We are far enough away from the road now that we will not be bothered. In an attempt to pull my frantic mind away from the conversation I will have to start soon, I force my eyes away from her to the astonishing scene in front of us, the dark blue of the glassy night sky contrasting against the bright snowflakes that fall around us. The trees are becoming frosted with the delicate snow falling onto them, their green hues standing out against the red brown of the trunk with fantastic clarity through the crisp night air.
But the whole scene before me dulls and dissolves every time her hand brushes mine innocently, every time her emerald eyes catch mine and shame the deep green color of the trees. It takes a conscious effort to not simply stare at her; her breath, coming out in steamy, pale clouds, seems to soak up the beauty of the scene around us and transfer it into her. She glows with it.
“I think-”
Her voice, sounding clearly through the crisp night air startles me somewhat guiltily out of my dream like train of thoughts.
“-that we are doing the least amount of talking that can actually be called talking.” She gives me a small half smile and momentarily holds my gaze as I raise my head to focus on her, before blushing and dropping her eyes to the snow glistening on the ground.
My lips quirk gently into a soft smile as her own features dissolve into an adorably engaged expression of puzzlement.
“Or, well, actually even less than be called talking, ‘cause, to call it that would mean that there would to be actually talking involved, not just the ‘who’s gonna say something first’ and do you think she-”
“Will.”
I can feel the love shining and affection shining freely out of my eyes as I gaze intently at her, and do not attempt to hide it for once.
My hand reaches of its own accord to lightly grasp hers, and warm sparks flow through me as she unhesitatingly responds by lacing our fingers tightly together and giving them a soft squeeze. Her welcome, familiar babble also runs through me, bubbling happily like the nervous sparkle in her eyes.
I take in a long, deep breath and absorb all I can of the moment, before letting it out in a hurried plea before I can think too deeply about it and catch myself.
‘Will, I need to tell you something.”
TBC…
I know, I am evil. But there will be an update Monday, or at least Tuesday, and I only had ¾ of what I was originally going to post done… and since kelz wont be able to post again till Monday anyway, it was either give you half now and half later, or just nothing now and all later… and I guess I have to admit that that ending was kinda calling out to me… *grins semi-evilly*
But I won’t keep you waiting too long, it’s just that there was not a single other point in what I have written that I could stop at, and again I’d rather get something up now, even if it is short and rather like a teaser, than make you wait until Monday for anything… so sorry bout that.
*chris snorts from behind michelle as she says that* no, really I am…
on Xander. Good idea.
thanx
Spot 
,
is really gonna tell 
how she feels? 
I hope that she doesn't chicken out. She should just go for it. Can't wait to 
more. Update soon, please? 
)
So I'll just keep quiet and patiently (well as patiently as I can 
) wait for the next update.
...But, evilness aside, that was an awesome update!
, 
.
your writing
lol but that was a very good update. thanks for writing cutie!