I promised this chapter would be up by Monday, but my beta
ExtraFlamey made extra-flamey effort and finished this today. Thank you!
So enjoy this another chapter in which we discover Willow's love for physics. I dedicate this chapter to poor Robert who has corasthma and feels like a crap. (Hi Robert!) I'm grateful for his support and advices.
Chapter Four:
Shining Through
Tara was holding her. She was safe. She was free. She was new. She was Willow.
"W-Willow?" A muffled question came from the blonde in her arms.
She took a deep breath. The careless moment of crying was gone and she wondered if she had over-stepped the boundaries. Not only she basically thrown herself onto a total stranger and cried, she also showed her own pain and intruded into Tara’s personal space. That was kind of a violation of the unwritten laws, wasn’t it?
"Yes?" Willow replied. She gently tried to pull herself away from the other girl, but Tara didn't let go of her.
"Stay?" Tara pleaded, her vulnerability obvious in her voice.
"Gladly. Thank you, Tara." Willow smiled dreamily as she hugged her again, tightening her hold reassuringly. She rested her face on Tara’s shoulder, breathing her in, while unconsciously nuzzling her neck. She smelled perfect, just Tara-like, a sweet mixture of maple and honey.
"N-no, I have to thank
you.. you know?" Tara pulled away slightly and looked into Willow's eyes. As their gazes locked, Willow saw that Tara was different now too. She could see it despite Tara's reddened eyes - there was a new spark, a new hope shrouding the grief. Something had changed her in much the same way it'd changed Willow. She was renewed as well. And she was
Tara.
"Uhm, guess good crying is priceless." Willow replied shyly, dropping her gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the way they were hugging each other. Tara seemed to finally notice that too, and she reluctantly weakened her grip on Willow as she pulled away, but didn't break the contact entirely. When she started to wipe her eyes, Willow looked at her again and wondered at the situation.
How did this even happen? As Tara pulled her hand away from her face and their gazes locked again, she knew Tara was thinking about similar things. It was weird and wonderful at the same time, they'd just met, yet they shared
this - simple understanding in silence with no need for words. But another yawn fought its way from Willow's throat and Tara, noticing, glanced at the alarm clock.
"Willow, it's late.. We better go to sleep." she said with a voice so full of care that Willow thought she'd melt from it.
"Uhm." She dropped her head. Tara was amazing. No, Tara was perfect and that bothered her, she felt vulnerable. What if Tara hurt her? She had cried in this girl's arms, she'd cried in front of someone and she felt safe in that moment. Not weak, not embarassed. Strong and accepted. And connected. Tara somehow elicited feelings she had never experienced. In such a short time, too.
How is that even possible? And what if Tara destroyed this unique feeling of safety and approval? Maybe it was only her imagination, but she certainly felt unsure.
Does crying, hugging a 'sister' tightly make you feel that way? She'd never had a sister but she'd always wished she could have an older sibling, who would be wise, strong, caring and able to protect her.
But, she realised, everything bad that happened was for a reason. She should learn from it and not hide away from it, trying to forget. Everything had led to this moment, had led to now. Nothing had been an accident. Even Tara was Tara because of her memories, because of her pain and past. Because of her father. In the end, she was who she was meant to be.
"Will?" Tara whispered into the silence, nervously.
"Uhm?" Willow was still lost in her thoughts and again produced only monosyllabic answer.
Yeah, come on, show her you’re a moron.
"W-We should get up. You know, pull-out bed?" Tara explained, shyly smiling at her.
"Uhm. OK, I'm gonna get a quick shower." Willow got up from the floor, feeling suddenly cold without the contact of Tara’s warm body and pulled her oversized night-shirt and shampoo,shower-gel and toothbrush from her bag, while Tara found her a big fluffy orange towel.
"Thank you." Willow smiled politely at the girl and started to walk towards the bathroom. When she looked over her shoulder to steal one final glance at Tara, the girl was still looking at her but when their eyes met, she dropped her head and again hid behind her hair. Willow gathered her courage, turned to the girl and walked back to her. When she was standing in front of Tara again, she studied her face for a moment, hesitating. She'd noticed this gesture of the other girl's insecurity from the very moment they'd met and she didn't like the thought of her being the reason Tara felt like that.
She placed her free hand on Tara's chin, and lifted her head gently. Tara surrendered to the pressure but her gaze remained pinned on the floor as she murmured something unintelligible.
"What did you say?" Willow asked carefully.
Was this too bold? She dropped her hand hoping that she could somehow excuse it.
"I'm sorry I stared." Tara answered, as she crossed her arms and started to fidget with her sleeves, her eyes never leaving the floor. She said it as if it was a well-learned mechanical response.
"No Tara, I mean... I just don't want you to hide away from me. You don't have to.” Willow started softly, awaiting the girl’s response. Her tensed stance seemed to relax a little and then Willow recognized it. It was fight-or-flee.
God, why am I doing everything wrong? She’s afraid of me! “Tara, listen. I’m not going to hurt you. I
swear.” Willow said a little more forcefully than she intended to, emphasizing each word. “And-and staring is totally OK... " she laughed nervously. "Look at me please, dear temporary sis'?" she continued in a deep, formal voice, hoping that she would get Tara to relax.
Tara tentatively lifted her eyes from the floor, flashing a shy half-smile of relief. Willow smiled back and gave Tara a wink, then quickly turned to go to the bathroom, feeling the tips of her ears reddening.
Wow, since when did I start behaving like this? She retreated into the bathroom, closing and locking the door, never looking back at Tara. She'd never acted like this and she was really surprised with her own actions. She just hoped it helped Tara relax.
She leaned back at the door, exhaling while closing her eyes and bringing her hands to her face. Her cheeks burned. She gasped and threw her stuff carelessly on the carpet as she moved in front of the mirror. She saw a immature girl with untidy short red hair, cheeks that matched her hair-colour and a face covered with soft freckles.
Willow the ugly dykeling. She pouted at her reflection, then stuck her tongue out at it. Oddly enough, the reflection did the same, with a sarcastic gleam in its eyes.
Willow quickly discarded her clothes and hopped into the shower, hot water feeling like magic on her skin. She couldn't help imagining what sharing the shower with Tara would be like...
She'd would pin me to the shower-wall and shove her tongue into my mouth insistently and her leg would.... she stopped, suddenly. She wasn't supposed to feel like this. Damn, she wasn't supposed to feel at all. Why Tara? Why was she so different, why was she so perfect, why had she crept into Willow's thoughts?
Sister, sister, sister. She is my sister. Sorta. Willow spotted a honey-suckle shampoo, which she figured belonged to Tara, and squeezed a bit into her hand. She washed her short hair, inhaling Tara's scent and feeling a bit guilty in the process.
Rosenberg. You perve. How should she behave now, to be someone Tara could rely on, could totally trust? How could she be there for Tara in every possible way? How could she bring her out of her shell?
No. I'm not going to be someone else. I'll show her who I am. I'll just be me. Either she'll like me as I really am or not. Clumsy, geeky, babbling Willow, who now finally felt. She wasn't that empty shell anymore. She'd fallen for Tara, even though she wasn't supposed to and she certainly hadn’t planned for it.
She is my sister. Well, not entirely.
She's from England - whatever. She's a girl. So am I. Kinda the point. She's straight. But that's not a certainty. I'm not supposed to feel real love. But I do. Oh God, did I just accepted I'm in love with her? Am I? She knew the answer.
Love is such a terribly right thing to feel. It nestled under her skin and she couldn't help but watch as it ripped her insides out in one swift, nearly unnoticed motion. She lost control, and she was totally oblivious to it. A few days ago it would had driven her crazy.
About love, great and terrifying, poems were written and wars were fought for, over centuries past. It was love that had blinded so many wise people, love brought to life by mankind, certain as gravity and strong as the bonds of atoms in liquids.
Incompressible. It is a force easily compared to hydraulics. Just a small pressure from a beloved one and your whole world is moving.
Denying love is like denying the law of gravity at the very moment the object is falling. It's made no real impact yet, but it's already inevitable and undeniable. There is no need for an actual proof the law of gravity is working. It just
is. And it's the same with love.
Love is such a terribly right thing to feel.
No matter what, love would prevail.
The heart rules the mind. Willow could try and fight it, but who could fight a force strong and certain as gravity itself?
In the end, love is all that really matters.
From the first time Willow looked into Tara's expressive eyes reflecting her soul, she had known she was lost. Forever. She knew that exact shade of blue icy depths was going to haunt her sweetest dreams. Forever.
She remembered her vow about crushes. It wasn't a crush, it was more, so much more.
What's her story? Who was she that she was able to do this to Willow?
She'd known her for a couple of hours, yet she was certain as hell that she'd fallen in love with her. So quickly. So suddenly.
Was it too sudden?It was as if she was standing near a blazing fire.
No. Near the
icy fire.
Thrown out from her homely, velvety warmth to be tossed into ice, setting her skin on fire in spite of its coldness.
And there was the other thing too. She shouldn't feel like this, she shouldn't feel the all-consuming heat when she was buried in ice. Or was it just her imagination? Was it even ice she delved into? Had she even been warm inside before?
Tara shone deeply into her soul. That was why she felt warm. That was why she felt on fire. That was why she wasn’t cold anymore, for she wasn’t tossed into ice, she herself was the ice and now she'd slowly started to melt – starting to feel again.
Did she trust Tara enough to make it happen? To allow her to break her shields? Should she let her?
But actually, she already had. The moment she felt warm tears in her eyes, that was the moment she let her shields down. Tara's pain had made her do it, but shouldn't she be mad at her? She didn't want this, yet at the same time she was yearning desperately for love and acceptance. But was it worth the pain? And even if it was, could Tara give love to her? To
her? And even if she could, should she accept it?
Do I even deserve it? Willow felt as if her head was going to burst.
But one thing was for sure. No matter how things would go, no matter what happens or not, she would be here for Tara in every way she would need, and she'd show that she's worth it.
Willow's mathematical mind was relieved by the conclusion her linear (or rather quadratic) thinking had finally provided. With that determination, she stepped out of the shower.
Why is it every time I'm in there I get all philosophical?As she dried herself, brushed her teeth, pulled on her black oversized shirt and gathered her discarded clothes, she started the mental preparation to return to the room.
Wherein was Tara.
She hoped the girl wasn’t asleep yet, the idea of disturbing her sleep seemed horrible to her.
Oh, sleeping Tara, she thought, as she was passing along the hallway.
As she entered Tara’s room, the blonde was lying on her bed again but the music had changed. Another song that Willow recognized was now playing and Tara was quietly humming along to it.
First day of love never comes back,
A passionate hour's never a wasted one.
The violin, the poet's hand,
Every thawing heart plays your theme with care.“Goddess, Tara. You really have a brilliant taste in music! “ Willow exclaimed and Tara’s lips curved into a smile.
“And you have an American accent.” She replied, mocking her gently and looking up at the ceiling. "My, that was really quick!"
It was great to hear another confident joke from Tara, and Willow was glad there were no signs of the stutter, so she decided to ease her even more, switching into her babble mode, releasing her own growing nervousness.
“I know. But in three days or so I will be all British, you know. Once I went for a week to Western Slovakia and-and I tell you what, these people talk toooootally differently in comparison to our Eastern sing-song accent. And..” she laughed sheepishly. “In two days or so I was talking like them. Blech.”
Tara chuckled, lifted herself on the elbow then shot a look at Willow’s shirt. “ 'Ich chef, du nix*?' ” she asked, quirking an eyebrow as she read Willow's shirt.
“Uhm.” Willow replied while she was tidying her clothes and putting them into closet.
“Well, that’s intimidating.” Tara remarked casually and Willow giggled, then jumped into the pull-out bed and hid under the covers.
“Good night, Will.” Tara murmured as she switched off the lights and turned down the music to a barely audible level.
“Night, Tara.” a muffled reply sounded from the lower bed.
“Want me to turn the music off?” Tara added after a few seconds.
“It’s ok. I like that kind of music.” Willow yawned. “Night.”
Willow didn’t really think she could sleep. She imagined Tara’s face which she figured she had deeply imprinted into her mind. Every detail. She kept tracing her contours in her mind and then… she finally fell asleep.
With a
feeling.
Again.
*German slang, also a name of the movie. Basically it means "I'm the Boss, you're nothing."