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The air outside the front door of Wolfgang and Kala’s apartment is cold and filled with white, damp flakes of snow, and it’s impossible for the memories to not come flooding back to both of them at the sight. It’s a familiar one for Wolfgang, as Berlin gets its fair number of blizzards every winter, but Kala is stunned, naturally, as she's unacquainted with the cold and even less so with the precipitation. Wolfgang feels the itch in his own muscles as soon as he catches sight of the weather; he can feel that Kala wants to rush outside, immerse herself in the flurries, and so he moves to the side and lets her dart past him as a squeal of delight leaves her mouth. It’s reminiscent of her excitement last winter at the park, a brief moment that they had both wordlessly cherished in solitude. As Wolfgang remembers it vividly now, he knows Kala does too.
The memory ricochets between their minds, curling into the shadows of their peripheral vision even as they stand feet apart. Wolfgang remembers the palpable thrill that Kala had felt then at the newfound glimmer of snow around her and he feels it again, rushing through his veins even stronger than before because it’s finally real now.
It’s a different emotion, as she touches it— really touches it— with her own fingertips. She stands in front of him, mesmerized, and Wolfgang’s eyes linger on her for a long time, taking in every bit of her, from the snow dusting the top of her head to her ill-fitting ballet slippers sinking into the layer of white on the pavement. She’s beautiful, of course, so much so that Wolfgang has never really been able to fully comprehend the extent of everything that she is, but even more shocking than that, she’s physically here with him. She’s staying for good, and the reality that she’s not only a figment of his mind anymore still has Wolfgang reeling quite more than he’d like to admit.
Kala is well aware of this and she finds it adorable. Besides, it’s not like she’s not in as deep as he is; she’s nowhere close to being accustomed to the luxury of waking up beside him every morning and falling asleep with him every night, safe and warm in his own bed— no, their bed. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to truly process the fortune of their lives now, the fact that they get to do everything they’ve ever wanted to do, together.
For some reason, Wolfgang is more awestruck with the sight of Kala walking his streets like she knows them than he was even when he saw her underneath the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower. Maybe it’s because he’s spent his whole life here and to see beauty like her exist in a space like this, beyond just his mind, reminds him that life changes. For better or for worse, time keeps moving forward like it always has, but the only difference now is that with Kala and his cluster forever alongside him, Wolfgang is actually hopeful for what’s to come.
Besides, Kala is a force to be driven by regardless of whether she intends to be or not. She know the ins and outs of Wolfgang’s city inherently, just as he does for Mumbai, and though she had gasped the moment the plane touched down at Tegel International Airport, she had been the one to lead them through each terminal and gate, his memories guiding her enthralled body as she’d practically ran straight to the customs desk.
Anything and everything Wolfgang has been taught to know about Berlin is different now that Kala has been here for nearly three months with him, crafting her own memories around each streetlamp and cobblestone avenue that used to always give Wolfgang a bitter taste in his mouth at the sight. These boroughs used to make him think of hard blows, of punches and cigarettes and the taste of vodka against his bruised lips, but now, he thinks of the softness of how Kala had kissed him spontaneously, just because she wanted to, while they were heading to the tram. All purposeful movements coming out of nowhere only mere minutes after they had gotten coffee, Kala had let him backpedal until he was pressed back against the window of a crowded bar, her fingers clutching the collar of his jacket. Customers sitting inside had whistled and hollered at them, encouraging the show, and Wolfgang had been surprised at how little Kala had cared about their observance. She had grinned against his teeth and he had felt her emotion, her desire — scratch that, her need — and now, instead of feeling anger in his cut, Wolfgang tastes espresso and red lipstick every time he turns the corner that would lead him in that direction.
Wandering amidst the flurry of snowflakes that are on the rather wet side, Kala is dazed. Wolfgang has a flicker of a complaint about how many people are going to be trekking slush into the shop tomorrow, including Felix and his clunky snow boots the color of cigarette filters, but then Kala laughs heartily as she catches droplets on her tongue and Wolfgang snaps back to the current moment. There’s nowhere he’d rather be, anyways.
“It’s beautiful,” she says rather breathlessly to no one in particular. Her words are somehow always spoken to him, though.
“It is,” Wolfgang replies, and it takes Kala a moment to pull her gaze away from the sky. When she does, she gives him a rather relieved look, like he’s a kid who finally did some long-awaited chore she had asked of him days ago. But as she smiles bright, her chest fills with love and he can feel it, radiating intensely in his own lungs as she steps closer to him and takes his hand.
“You agree with me now,” Kala says softly. She’s marvelling at him as she brings him back to that same memory again, filling his mind with the sight of Monbijoupark, the familiar location maybe only five miles from where they stand now.
“I always agreed with you,” Wolfgang says with a shrug that he hopes comes across as casual. It feels a bit like he’s uttered a confession.
Kala’s fingers are cold against his palm and she tightens her grip, intertwining their fingers even tighter.
“I knew you did,” she replies and her smile resurfaces then, bigger than before. She doesn’t have to say anything else, as Wolfgang knows her words are true. He hears the echo of her sentiment as clearly as if she had recited it all over again right now, because Wolfgang has heard the words over and over for months , for years , always reminding him to do better, to be better. Now, he knows that he is better.
You have something good and beautiful hidden inside of you.
She believed in him then, and he believes in himself now. It’s a relief to not be so afraid to be happy.
As for the dark and wicked side of Kala, Wolfgang can’t even begin to imagine what that would look like, especially as she skips down the street, catching snowflakes on her tongue and ushering him to follow her. He doesn’t even need to be in her head to know that she’s leading him to that same park, already planning a sort of reprise for the both of them.