Disclaimer: If I owned 'Roswell,' would I be writing fan fiction?
Author's Note: I wrote this a really long time ago. Don’t know what it was for, or anything. But I came across it tonight when I was cleaning out under my bed and thought it would be fun to work with. So, voi-la! Instant fic. ;)
Enjoy this, y’all.
* * *
The lamp is burning low upon my table top
The snow is softly falling
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly calling
- Sarah MacLachlan, “Song for a Winter’s Night”
* * *
It’s three a.m. and I cannot get any sleep to save my life. Sure, I know, it happens to all girls at some point in their lives. Guys have a tendency to change their minds suddenly and pick ugly, bitchy girls over the pretty, sweet ones everyday. And it just happened to me.
It’s not that I’m angry. I’m really not. It’s kind of alarming how fine I am with the whole situation, considering it happened a mere two days ago and the last time that something similar occurred, I was heartbroken for almost a year. Pathetic, I know. But, this time, I wasn’t going to let it defeat me. And I feel somewhat guilty for not mourning the lost relationship for a longer time, but he doesn’t deserve my sympathy, anyway, so I roll over and sigh, attempting to get some slumber, pushing all the thoughts out of my mind.
I’m completely fine with everything that’s happened and the only problem is that I’m lonely. Too lonely for my likings. And I have a way to solve that problem – I’m just not quite sure how smart it would be to just show up, out of the blue.
I instantly think, But you’re going to take your chances, as I climb out of my double bed and yank on the old sweater and jeans that were bunched up on the floor, tossed away from the day before.
I make my way quickly to my window, then turn back, rethinking my decision in clothing. It snowed earlier this evening, something rare in Roswell, and I need to dress warmly if I’m going to be outside for any given amount of time. I peer into my closet and yank my jacket off its hanger, pulling it onto my body and zipping it up completely, then add my fuzzy pink ski cap as the last accessory. These will do, I suppose. I unlock the window and push it open, letting a chilly breeze embrace my upper body.
I shiver as I look down at the frozen ground some ten feet below. Sure, I’ve done this before, but every time I do, it’s both frightening and exhilarating. Every time. And I’ve done this at least a few hundred, seeing that I snuck out practically every night on summer vacation to the same location I was intending on visiting in a few short moments. So I climb up slowly and sit on the windowsill, letting my feet dangle out into the cold night air, flipping my body over and feeling with my toes for the thin lining of bricks that I can walk across. After a moment of feeling, I am triumphant in the first part of sneaking out of the house.
I tentatively put my weight down on the thin ledge and close my window behind me as I carefully slide my way across the brick walls of the house to the section over the garage, where I can stand in confidence and without any worry. Once I’ve reached the solid ground, I walk over to the edge and jump off easily into the soft snow that covered the ground earlier tonight. And I’m off.
What would my mother think if she knew what I was doing right now? My body shudders as a response to my own question as I steal one last passing glance at my house before I slip into the shadows and make my way across the street, sprinting through the neighbor’s yard undetected by no one, not even the dogs. I’m good.
I’ve made it out safe and an overwhelming sense of relief washes over my body. I might have done the whole ‘sneak out’ thing quite a bit before, but every time I do the act, I’m always paranoid that I’m going to get caught. So my senses are in overdrive as I make my way down the street in silence.
When I reach the main road, I jog, still cautiously surveying my surroundings and dive into the shadow of a giant oak tree when oncoming headlights draw near. I’m not going to be caught and I know it.
Just a few more yards. And in a few more seconds, I’m there.
Slowly, I make my way around to the back of the house, slithering along the walls like a secret agent and creep along the ground until I reach the farthest window from the street and consequently, the entrance to the backyard. I stand up warily and knock, praying for an answer.
And a few moments later that actually feel like eons, I get one.
The window swings open and a face pops out into the glittering moonlight. Obviously I’ve woken him from his beauty sleep and he is somewhat annoyed, but still is beautiful. He’s always been beautiful.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I give him my best, ‘Well, duh,” look and he sighs, then retreats back into his room, pulling on a pair of cargo jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, then grabbing both a blanket and a jacket before he climbs out of the window and joins me in his white backyard that is glistening in the silver light.
“Thanks,” I smile.
He smirks in response and I automatically roll my eyes. Some things never change. “Where to, Princess?”
“I don’t know,” I reply in my best ‘royal’ tone, “Perhaps the ‘Secret Palace?’”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” he states gruffly, grabbing my hand unceremoniously and leading me out of the backyard quietly. My very own Romeo…
We walk in compete and utter silence to our special spot. We haven’t been there in a while, though, so it’s going to be a nice change.
Ever since I started dating Billy, we never met anymore. But I always wanted to just show up like I used to and we could just hang out like the old times, like nothing had changed, and like I didn’t have a steady boyfriend, who I thought loved me for who I was and not what I represented. Damn, I was wrong.
The scenery starts to change as we make our way down one of the back streets in our neighborhood. The houses are more sparse and the trees (though rare in Roswell) are becoming more rampant, until all we can see are the giants and no longer are the nice abodes standing anywhere in sight. We leave the road and walk deeper into the snow-covered woods until we reach and old wooden bridge that stands over a frozen creek and we both pause, remember exactly everything that happened at this spot.
“C’mon. Only a little bit further,” he says suddenly, breaking me out of my reverie and squeezes my hand, leading me to the end of the path and into the trees.
A few seconds later, the vegetation opens up and the pale moonlight pours onto the frozen ground from the frosty winter sky. Stars dance playfully on the dark canopy. And everything seems so perfect at that very moment in time. So right.
“It’s so beautiful,” I mutter under my breath.
“Yeah, I know,” he pauses, obviously trying to formulate whatever he wants to say next. “I was wondering if I was ever going to get to see it here with you again. I mean, it’s been, what? Four months?”
I shrug and shift my gaze back to the fresh, glittering snow.
He moves closer and his hands travel to my face, cupping my cheeks gently. My focus snaps back to him instantly.
His warm brown eyes darken as the moonlight paints his features and he whispers, “I’ve missed you,” as he leans closer and plants a tender kiss on my nose.
“I missed you, too,” I reply automatically, wrapping my arms around his neck and lean in for a kiss, this time filled with passion and loneliness as our lips collide in mutual feeling.
Many kisses later (and I’m assuming quite a few minutes later), he pulls back and shoots me a questioning look as he takes more steps away from me and spreads the fleece blanket that he brought on top of the earth.
He plops down and stretches out, gazing up at the stars once again.
“Why’d you stop coming?” he finally asks, his gaze never faltering from the wintertime sky.
His heated stare falls onto my body as I speak. I know why, but I don’t want to admit it.
“You know what I’m talking about,” are the only words that escape his lips before he goes back to examining the heavens.
I sigh and walk over to the blanket, lying back and resting my head on his strong chest.
Even after all this time, I still love listening to him breathe. I trace circles on his chest as I feel his heart beating firmly beneath my head and I sigh.
“I’ve missed this,” I admit sheepishly.
“Yeah, well, me too,” he snaps back at me quickly.
“God, why are you so defensive?”
He sits back and I fall slowly onto the cold ground, instantly missing his warmth.
“You wouldn’t understand,” he says as he runs his hand through his sandy blonde hair, making it stand on end even more than it already is. He’s frustrated.
“Try me.” Determination is evident in my voice.
He sighs loudly.
“Are you going to talk, or what?”
He shoots me an annoyed glance, but a shaky breath escapes his lips as he begins to talk. “This summer… I had the best time of my life. I loved every single second of it.” He meets my emerald eyes and continues, “I don’t regret a thing that happened between us and it just seemed like you felt the same way. But then…” his voice drones off, “after it… I don’t know. It just stopped. I was looking for more than you were, obviously. And then you never came back.”
“It’s not that I didn’t think those were the best days ever, because they were. I just… wasn’t looking for a relationship. And I stopped coming because I had a new boyfriend. A good, steady one.”
“Then why are you back?” he asks, meeting my eyes and holding my gaze, raising an eyebrow in interest. “Why?”
I want to tell him everything. I really do. But, instead, I whisper, “Because I missed you.”
His mouth crashes down onto mine and my arm wraps around his neck, my hand snaking into his spiky hair while the other arm trails down his body. His hands are everywhere and every kiss is filled with a little more passion that the last. Our tongues are fighting for dominance and the silver moonbeams are lighting our favorite spot and us.
Fire covers my body as his hands continue ravaging me and my breath comes out in short gasps of pleasure and surprise between each kiss that warms my shivering body to the bone.
His hands are back on my face and I find it amazing to realize just how much I have missed our time together. I’ve always loved the way he kisses.
But we’ve got to stop. This is too much. It was exactly like this the night when things ended between us and I found Billy the very next day because we didn’t stop. And I can’t make that same mistake twice.
I pull back and can instantly see his confusion and hurt dawning in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and run a hand through his tangled mane. “I can’t make the same mistake again,” I admit softly as I stand silently, his eyes following my every move.
I manage to utter another apology before I sprint back through the woods, tears streaking down my face in vain. Tears of confusion and regret and frustration and loneliness.
I make it back to the road in no time and slow my pace to a light jog, my speeding heartbeat slows considerably, as sobs wrack my body and I shiver in the frigid winter air.
I hear footsteps behind me and I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
“Wait up!” he calls after me, but I just continue walking away at the same pace.
In no time, he reaches me and wraps his arm confidently around my shoulder, offering me the blanket. I shake my head and he nods knowingly.
“What happened back there?”
I sniffle and gaze at him through my tear-stained eyes. “Guilty pleasure.”
“What?” He sounds confused.
I begin, “Last time that we were together, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let it happen again.”
“Oh,” he lets out the breath he’s unknowingly been holding, defeat resounding through it.
“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it, because I did,” I admit. “It’s just that, if I did it again and again and again, it’d become a guilty pleasure.”
“A guilty pleasure?”
“Yeah, and I figure you’re too nice to be a guilty pleasure,” I state as I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him into my arms.
He sighs and I can feel his lips turn up into a smile in my long blonde hair.
“You know, that’s another thing I missed.”
“What? I mean, other than my obvious breathtaking beauty and elegance,” I state with laughter in my tone.
“No,” he smirks at me, “Your reasoning that comes out of no where.”
He chuckles as he disentangles himself from my embrace and sprints to the nearest yard, grabbing a handful of the white, fluffy precipitant and tosses it at me.
“Hey!” I screech, then squeal in surprise as the snowball hits my shoulder.
And the only thing that I can think as I chase after him is that life is good.