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You can't help but stare.
Cool, whispery winds like this send shivers into your spine. It's the kind of shiver that sneaks into you, making you notice how frail your spine actually is. When you try to stop the shiver, it bursts forth with a sound you can’t control – leaving your now tingling body as fast as you noticed its arrival. You gulp; thankfully Ymir didn't notice.
Surprisingly the grass that's still growing, dull and faded as the stalks are, shimmers with morning dew. Crunchy leaves make their bed, some tucked into one another, within over grown weed after over grown weed. Tiny trees that have obviously been dead for years shake and twist subtly as if listening to music only they can hear. Moss has reached its hand to parts of this place that did not even seem possible – a declaration for all other moss beds to follow; a new found glory for it and all future pieces of it to come.
This rundown, ragged house has what used to be a grandiose entrance. You can imagine it in its once lavish state, somewhat. You gaze at the bricks showing behind chipped paint, cracks in pillars, and broken windows. You would rather not check out the area by the latter, as the morning dew’s glow could mistakenly turn into pieces of glass; it would glisten in the morning light right as your foot would step on it. You’ve been gawking at this entrance for about a few minutes now, tasting the dusty, stale air surrounding you.
"Historia?"
Ymir's looking at you now with slight concern, but then she smiles and you see the pure giddiness in her eyes. She loves scary anything – movies, memorabilia, name it. That's the only reason you agreed to come to this "haunted" house; to see that smile. She walks a few paces towards the old marble steps, admiring them.
"Look at these babies," she says, " they're smoother than me after a couple drinks."
"What do you mean by that, Ymir?" you ask with a nervous laugh.
Ymir puts a hand behind one of your shoulders; she pushes you forward gently.
"Get me a few drinks and you'll find out. But in all seriousness – the steps are talking, ya know – 'come in, come in,'" she adds with a smirk. "It'll be fun. Let's go."
The door is creaking, opening and closing ever so slightly in anticipation of your arrival. Or perhaps the door is haggard and groaning its protest. Either way, the curtain’s wave is humbly asking you to come into the abode, just as Ymir is; truth be told, you're scared. Scary, while you can handle it in movies occasionally, is not your forte. From the corner of your eye you can see the side of her face – seeing those freckles and some of her toothy grin calms you a bit. You're a big girl. You can handle this – especially if Ymir is with you.
"Alright," you say with a nod, trying to assure yourself that you're ready for this.
"You're so cute when you get like this. Marry me after we're done."
You blush at that; she always jokes about it but you don't think she understands that you actually do like her. Maybe not enough to marry her yet but – and of course you know reality. You're probably not her type. But a girl can dream, right? All that aside, you steel yourself for the moment. You place a foot on the stairs. The marble steps are slippery. You manage to maintain your balance on them, though just barely, and only after Ymir grabs your hand. Hers are somewhat cold to the touch but it's comforting, so you try to concentrate on that. When you reach the top you see the tarnished door knob; it was once bronze or maybe copper from what you can tell. But now it's a sickly green color created and dulled by father time himself. Hesitantly, you reach for it.
It jams a little bit for you, yet Ymir manages to get it open with a push – when the door opens, a burst of energy surges through you as it bangs an inside wall with a resounding wham. You peer into the house cautiously. You spy cobwebs and pollen almost everywhere. It’s not as dark in here as you thought it would be; there’s enough light to make out dim colors, shapes, and large objects. Tables and cabinets are covered in ragged, dim gray table cloths. You take a step in without watching where you’re going – a floorboard squeals under you. It's similar to that of a dying mouse.
"Wow, she's a beauty ain't she?" Ymir says, whistling for extra effect as her eyes glance over everything – these antiques here must be worth a fortune. She's totally entranced by the atmosphere of the place. You sigh in relief; this place is much less spooky than you imagined it would be. It gives you a chance to watch her, too. She's inspecting almost everything around her, yet she can't quite place her attention on anything in particular – it's like she's too excited. You've seen her like this once when she watched a scary movie with you that she had never seen before. You smile, absent mindedly leaving your gaze on her.
"Hey, Historia! Come check this out!" she calls out, grinning at you. Your heart pulses faster as she reaches for your hand again. "There's gotta be something upstairs. See the foot prints?" You look to the floor leading to the staircase and she's right – it's too dim to tell what they belong to; your heart pulses again. Ymir squeezes her fingers around yours.
"Ymir, I don't think this is such a good idea."
But she's already dragging you up the stairs and there's no stopping her; not when she's like this. You sigh, however, a small grin playing on your lips soon after. It's like your own little, semi-scary adventure with the girl you love. You're lagging behind her as it's hard to catch up with her long legs, but she still has a hold of you – it's fine. You're not unused to this with her and you're used to running. You take the time to look at Ymir from behind; a rare indulgence. She's wearing her usual light gray sweatpants, coupled with a basic beige tee shirt and the sweater you also have since you bought them together a couple years ago. To be frank, the sweatpants make it look like she has absolutely no ass; you've looked enough to know that there is one, though.
"Think it's here, shortie –? "
You make this weird squeaking sound as Ymir turns around to face you; you feel your face heat up a little. You almost bump into the much taller woman since you were still moving when she stopped and turned. She gives you a quizzical look, asking if you're okay soon after. You nod, saying it's nothing. She raises an eyebrow.
"Weirdo," she says, tone of voice clearly showing she doesn't mean any harm by it. "Anyway, I think it's somewhere here. Let's check out the rooms." Ymir spies a door to your left and tells you to open it. Gulping, you inch toward the door. The door's handle is rusted and cobwebs line the upper corners of it; but it's slightly ajar. You have a bad feeling about this room. You see your hands shake a little bit when reaching for the door handle when you feel Ymir's hand on your shoulder; then her breath on your ear.
"Don't worry. I'm right behind ya."
Your knees wobble slightly. Butterflies or fear? Both. Most certainly both. You gather up your courage, pushing the door open; it creaks loudly.
"I...uh. Wow. What a wreck." Ymir says, shock in her voice.
The room was so trashed that it surprised even you. The wallpaper is falling off in random spots, showing the paint and even wallboard occasionally. The faded plum purple couch against the left wall is ripped in places, the stuffing coming out; some of it had managed to get onto the dirty beige carpet. There is a broken lamp on the floor in the far right corner next to a dingy, small, black table. The wire from the lamp is unplugged – shaped in a way as if someone tripped over it. The window, by the couch, let in what little light was left of the day.
As the fading glow from the window turns into a faint dusk, you notice something; the couch isn't fully against the wall. In fact, it's somewhat tilted in your direction – as if something was behind it. Ymir, her eager vibes radiating from behind you, finally decides to step next to you.
"Ready to go in?" she says, already stepping into the room further.
A low growl emanates from behind the couch. Ymir freezes; so do you. Both of you stay still for a minute just like that in the door way. Ymir's shaking slightly after a bit – her hand is touching yours but not trying to grasp it. It sounded like an animal of some sort – you're good with them, usually. Maybe it's a better idea to go, though. You gather your courage and take Ymir's hand.
"Do you want to leave?" you ask simply.
There's another growl when she tries to lift her foot for another step into the room. Ymir's eyes narrow at the couch, yet there are small beads of sweat on the side of her neck when you look close enough. You know she wants to know what it is; some fantasy in her head probably is telling her that it's something more than what it really is, though. You squeeze her hand. She looks at you and you nod at her.
Letting go, you step into the room. It's even darker than before and the noise from the couch is immediate. You step closer and closer to the couch and by the time you're halfway to it, Ymir's scream-whispering at you.
"Historia! Are you crazy?"
The growls lessen in intensity and become something more familiar – whines – as you move forward. By the time you're near the edge of the couch there's a furry head poking out; what a huge dog! But then again, you are kind of tiny. The dog whines again. It sounds like it's in pain. Deciding the best plan of action is to find out what's wrong with it, you sit on the floor nearby.
"Hey, puppy."
The dog looks at you as you sit down. Ymir is hissing your name at this point but you're already sitting on the carpet.
"What's the matter? Is something wrong? Come here," you say in a calm, and what you hope is a soothing tone. The dog stares at you. There's nothing menacing in it. The dog steps forward once, twice, thrice, before it winces and cries. You scoot forward – something must be in one of its back paws. You hear a muffled footstep or two behind you and the dog turns its head toward Ymir.
"Shh, shh. It's okay. I know it hurts. Come here. That's it – that's a good puppy," you continue, patting the floor. The dog's as big as you are when you're sitting. It hesitates slightly, but comes out into the open just as Ymir manages to make it over to you. You can tell she wants to yell at you; you look up at her before she starts though.
"Sit down or else you could scare the puppy."
"Scare the puppy? That's what you're worried about? You scared me!" Ymir says with an indignant but hushed tone.
"We'll talk about it later. Let's take care of the dog first," you respond, your voice low as the dog finally arrives in front of you. It wags its tail slightly as it looks at you.
"Later? What if there was no later? You had no idea what was back there." Ymir sits down, slowly and deliberately as the dog watches her.
"That didn't stop you from coming up here when you found foot prints," you rebuke while petting the dog behind the ear – only after letting it sniff your hand first, of course.
"That's 'cause I thought it was probably gone. 'Sides, if the girl I liked managed to get mauled on my watch how am I supposed to live with that?" she replies. You blink. Did you hear her right? In fact, you're sure she doesn't realize what she just said. You're petting the dog still, but just barely, because you're staring at Ymir, who is staring at the puppy. Then she looks at you, and even in the dark you could see the heat rush to her face as her eyes widen, her mouth open as if she was about to say something else yet not a single word comes out – at least, not for a while.
"Shit – Historia, I, um –"
"Talk about it later?" you manage to stammer out, pitch high. Ymir nods solemnly, looking at the floor. You try to turn your attention back to the dog.
"Who's a good puppy, waiting so patiently?" The dog barks and hobbles a little closer. You edge near the offending paw and it tenses, but allows you to pick it up off the floor. You think you hear Ymir mutter something about her being patient too, about wanting a reward, but you choose to ignore it. There's a rather small piece of glass sticking out of one of the pads on the dog's paw. It must have wandered in the grass outside the window. You whisper a "sorry" to it before pulling it out as quickly as you can; it cries out and runs away from you, as expected, without putting too much pressure on the injury. It looks at you sadly from the couch. After a minute, though, it's testing its paw on the floor. Within another, it comes over to you and starts licking you. You start to giggle and Ymir sighs. The dog walks over to her and she noticeably stiffens.
"Don't worry. Let it sniff your hand," you say as you take your hand off of the dog.
"Are you sure? I mean –"
"Don't be such a baby." Ymir gulps, but puts her hand in the air for the dog. After a couple of sniffs, there's a cautious lick. She tries to admonish the dog with a 'hey, that tickles' but she's laughing, though it's that one she always has when she's nervous. The dog, after that, wants to leave and walks over to paw at the door. You rise up to open it for it. As soon as the door is open the dog bounds out of the room and heads for the stairs. You look back at Ymir, holding the door open.
"Shall we?" you ask.
She hesitates, but she nods and then stands, dusting her legs off after a small leg stretch. As soon as the two of you are outside, you take the positions you were at before you entered the house; you stare at the window on the second floor where you just were moments ago. You can tell Ymir's staring at you from the hole she's boring into the side of your head – you're electing to ignore it until she says something. You're sure she's going to stutter all over the place and you have an idea.
"Listen, Historia – I –"
"Ymir?"
"I, uh – yes?"
"You were very patient. You deserve a reward."
"What?" she says, clearly confused.
"Lean down," you command with a grin.
"What's gotten into you?"
"Just do it." Of course she complies when you say that. You become a little too impatient with how slowly she's leaning so you place yourself on your tip toes to meet your lips to hers – clumsily wrapping your arms around her neck. You shut your eyes; God, you've been waiting for this. Her lips are somewhat chapped and they don't push into yours right away. This worries you for all of a second more before Ymir dashes all of your worry away with the amount of klutzy vigor that a teenager tends to have for kisses. You smile into it as she wraps her arms around you. It doesn't last much longer, despite how you wish it could last forever. You hold yourself against her and she doesn't let you go until you pull yourself away, though you do grab her hand.
"That being done, it must be said – you're a giant baby."
"huh? Am not!" Ymir retorts lamely. You laugh, dragging her by the hand.
"Whatever you say. Let's go." Ymir smiles at you and nods in reply as the both of you walk away from the house.
Maybe you should go for semi-scary adventures more often.