February 2020 Writing Prompt

[Kris]

February 2020 Writing Prompt:

Ahhh.... The month of love! I believe now will be the time to write about romantic experience, aplatonic realtionship, and maybe about finding true love?

This challenge will be a free style, with the theme of "love is in the air"

Because, as you know:

Love improvises
Love doesn't follow rules.
Love making you recall of your true music.

Love is in the air

This is a free style prompt, which can be as short or as long as you want, and even in few parts! Can be even a poem!

Good luck everyone

[ArtisticVicu]

The mattress was nothing more than a pad stuffed full of soft things - no springs, no foam, just straw or down or wool - but he still woke her when he got up. He was like clockwork. Even if the sun was obscured by clouds or it was the heart of winter, he was always up at the same time every day. Bright and early to go for a run around the lake.

She used to join him. She used to be able to get up when he did and feel rested enough to go for the run. She used to be at his level of health, strong and fit, till she wasn't. It had been so gradual, she hadn't even noticed something was wrong till she nearly passed out trying to keep up with him.

Now she can barely muster enough strength to watch him dress before passing out again.

He wakes her with a cool hand at the base of her neck under all her hair. His hands are calloused and scarred from a life before all this and the life they've lived so far. She can smell breakfast - meat and bread and other savory things - but it churns her stomach and he knows. He helps her from her stomach on the bed to the chair he had built her when her body started failing her. He leaves her with the bowl of oatmeal. The smell of the brown sugar, milk, and oats doesn't churn her stomach like the smell of his breakfast had. There were fresh berries even and they added a pleasant tang.

She managed to finish off the bowl but she wasn't sure if that was due to her appetite or him giving her less than normal.

The days blending weren't helping anything.

He enters as she finishes, his expression curious yet tinged with concern. To others, he looks annoyed, pissed, but his features are harsh and don't lend well to the pleasanter expressions. Doesn't mean he can't smile or laugh or cry. She's seen every emotion humanly possible out of him since day one. She knew how careful he could be, how stubborn, how pigheaded and rude and loving. He had grown and changed as a person and she knew she was lucky to have seen it.

He takes the bowl from her as her thoughts wander. He takes it to the kitchen and returns. He doesn't say anything, doesn't look at her differently. He waits patiently as her thoughts come back to the present and she gets herself up.

His hands come forward as she wavers on her feet. She doesn't push them away. She had done that in the beginning. Now she knew better. She knew that even if she thought she was steady, she could fall, and she didn't want that pain.

He had seen her in worse states than this and he had stuck around. It had taken her even after a lot of those moments to shove her pride out the window and never look back.

His hands fall away as she steps past him.

He's right behind her, following her to the front door. She manages to open it - was she not able to yesterday? She couldn't remember - and steps out into the warm sun.

It's late spring, meaning the sun's almost up at the same time as he is every morning and is nice and warm by the time she manages to make it to the sunny side of the porch. She settles into the rocker there - he must have moved it after last night; she could remember watching the sun set from the other side of the porch - and watches as he continues off the porch towards the mess a few paces away. He's working on something again. She's not sure what but she's happy he's been enjoying woodworking. The last six years would have been excruciating if he hadn't found an outlet like woodworking.

She's not sure if the chill of the shade or him stepping up onto the porch wakes her but his gaze meets hers and he offers her a soft smile. He must have thought of something pleasant. Maybe he'll share.

"Feel up to a walk through town? I need to stop by the general store. I owe Marcus an update."

His voice is gravelly but not deep like some of the other men from the village - Torren, another woodworker, has a voice so deep, it can be felt in the ribs every time he talked - but it's low, soft spoken, and soothing. She offers a hum in return and starts to get up.

His arms are strong under her arms as he takes her weight without her speaking up. She goes with it. The rocking chair is nice but getting out of it was impossible now. He stands her on her own two feet but doesn't let go. He can feel the tremors in her muscles as she sags against him. It's easy for her arms to go over his shoulders, head nestled in the nook of her right arm and his head, with him being the shorter one. He barely even shifts as he takes her weight, his hands still on either side of her ribs.

Steadfast; was another good term for him.

She shifts and he helps her pull back. The tremors have subsided but she's tired. He can see it. His hand is in her hair again, cupping the side of her head. "You can stay."

She shakes her head. They've had this discussion before many times. "It'll be good for me."

He doesn't argue but he also doesn't agree. Instead of saying anything, he helps her back into the house. He's already dressed for the day but she's still in her sleep wear. She manages everything but the pants, socks, and shoes. His hands run over her ankles out of habit rather than concern, always checking to make sure she wasn't injured. She appreciates it.

He closes the cabin door and leads the way while staying at her side.

She makes it to the edge of town before his arm his around her waist, holding up her weight again.

The town is surprisingly festive. Not to say the town isn't normally bustling but there seems to be a different air to it. People seem to be more chatty, clustered in twos or threes more often than individuals. Full families wander through town, children playing, parents conversing, and it isn't till they pass the pastry shop on the way to the general store that she realizes why.

The chalk sign outside the bakery is covered in swirls and bubbly text. The header? 'Love is in the air'. It was the town's equivalent of Valentine's Day.

His arm tightened around her. She knows its because he had picked up on her sudden mood change. Not even a half a second after reading the sign does she hear, "It's such a shame she hasn't left him yet. He would do better with a wife that could actually give him a family than be a burden like her."

"Ignore them," he growls and she can't help but wonder what else he had heard. He could always hear far greater than she could. "They don't know anything."

She presses her face into his black hair. It was swept back in his favorite style, spiky all over the place and highlighting his deep widow's peak, but it was still soft and gave easily as she escapes the world by using his hair. It smells of him and wood and faintly of the oil he uses to get his hair to stay. "Maybe you should listen."

It wasn't the first time she had said it but it was certainly the first time in public. His hair guaranteed no one else but him heard it.

He moves so that they're facing each other and his hands move. Touch was something they both needed but their relationship was nothing like what others assumed. His hands were on her hips keeping her steady as he changed positions. Out of habit her arms went around his neck and he pulled her close. She buried her face in between her arm and his neck as his hold shifted into a massive hug. "I don't care what those idiots think. You have been with me since the beginning and understand far more than any of them can comprehend. I owe you my life and every day we share is precious to me."

The words are just as passionate and honest as the last seventeen times he's said them. Her arms weakly tighten around the back of his shoulders and he reciprocates. They were each other's family, best friend, partner through it all and that was what mattered. She knew that was what mattered but she knows that the townsfolk are just echoing words she had heard in her previous life. He had given her what she never thought had been possible and he wasn't taking that away any time soon.

The cooing from the onlookers makes her stomach churn and she feels more than hears his growl. He doesn't so much step back as gently aid her in moving back. The drive to make it to the general store is gone from her and he can see it. She knows he can by the way he takes her left hand into his left hand and how his other arm wraps around her lower back. He takes her weight without comment, without probably even a thought. When they enter the general store, Marcus is helping someone. In a few quick words, the shop owner is stepping away and guiding them to the back. He sits her where Marcus's directs but doesn't leave when Marcus steps back out. His hands are on hers, in her hair. His eyes are meeting her as he inquires, "How long do you want to wait before trying to get back home?"

She shakes her head. "I don't have a preference."

He kisses her forehead. "I'll carry you home when we're done then."

He steps out after Marcus. She lets herself wonder if he'll take the long way home or the direct way home.

Maybe she'll ask for the long way home. It was through the forest and not near gossipers. That and it was still probably full of spring flowers. It was probably still very pretty through there.

Yeah, he might like that too.

[HoneyHeart]

so beautiful! I can feel the love rising from it!