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Autumn came and went, orange and red fading from the trees in favor of empty branches bristling in the winds of early winter. Snow fell and fell — more than ever before, when Azriel had considered years past. Some days, they simply sat together and watched as blankets of fresh powder settled across the glades of the university’s campus, leaving wet slush in walkways and roads across the city. Fewer and fewer cars roamed around in the evenings, leaving more of Velaris in its most peaceful state–quiet, accompanied only by the sounds of icy wind. Azriel liked it best then, when it was just the two of them, sat in her bay window with a shared pillow and duvet.
“Our father used to tell us stories of the snow where he grew up,” Elain murmured softly one day, nestled in Azriel’s arms. “He always wanted to take us there to see it.”
She stared out, a memory flashing in her eyes as she looked to the mountains beyond the city. Azriel had known that Elain and her sisters had lost both their parents — their mother when the girls were children and their father just the previous year — but had never spoken with her about them, unsure if the wounds of grief had still been open in the months they had gotten to know each other.
He considered her for a moment, quiet as she cradled her drink on top of the blanket, and imagined that Elain had been forced to learn early on in her life how to withstand pain that might never ease.
“Where was he from?”
She smiled. It was small — so minor it might’ve been a reflex leftover from the days when those wounds had just been a concept far from her reality. “A little south of here. The snow he remembers–” she paused, blinking, “remembered...was probably much like this.”
The bittersweet melancholy of her soft voice, barely above a whisper, sounded as far away as the ships sailing out of the continent. Azriel tightened his arm around her, the tips of his fingers holding her waist as if to keep her next to him, sat in that window. He lowered his face to her hair to nuzzle the top of her head, aware that he couldn’t yet understand where that hurt had resided within her. He tried nonetheless to knock on that door of her mind to remind her she wasn’t alone if she didn’t want to be.
“Can you tell me more about him?” He asked gently, seeing the street lamps in front of the house illuminate the yard.
She was silent for a moment but then nodded, just once, and reached for his hand, brushing a thumb over the scars there.
“He was my best friend,” she began, words thicker than she could hide. “I loved him very much.”
Azriel listened — and held on.
With the Autumn, their lingering glances gave way to unbroken gazing, each in a silent competition for who could memorize the lines of the other’s face first. Onlookers might have thought they could read each other’s minds — their friends accused them of such after losing in countless rounds of charades.
“You’ve slipped her the answer, you dickhead!” Cassian bellowed at him on one occasion, his hair wild after pulling at it in frustration when Nesta had misunderstood his depiction of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for ‘Titanic.’
“Oh, shut up , Cassian,” Nesta had quipped, “It’s not their fault you didn’t know Leonardo DiCaprio was in both movies.”
Elain was laughing, her eyes still fixed on Azriel as he triumphantly walked back to their spot on the couch, holding her hands up for a high five once he reached her.
“How about we switch to Pictionary instead?” Rhysand interjected, standing up from the arm of Feyre’s chair. She smirked in return, eyeing him from the corner of her vision as she rolled her eyes.
“I’m not sure it’ll even make a difference.”
“Of course it will, darling,” Rhys cooed at her, “especially when you see Amren’s attempt at a sketch of a puppy.”
They all laughed and laughed, Azriel again next to Elain, his hand settling on her thigh, brushing his thumb back and forth in absentminded strokes for the rest of the night.
If Azriel lingered on it for very long at all, he would come to the same conclusion each time he considered what had been obvious from the beginning: he’d been waiting for her all his life and hadn’t known it — hadn’t understood what belonging truly meant until his heart belonged to hers. He knew telling her as much would’ve shown too much of his hand — too much of what he wasn’t sure would scare her away–but if she truly could read his mind, he prayed that she felt the same.
Outside of their classes and gatherings with their friends, It hadn’t taken long for the two of them to fall into intertwining routines — their days often playing out as endless songs of togetherness that went on for nearly every waking moment. Casual study sessions had led to late night walks in the park that had turned to embraces of unabashed passion that became mornings of lazy, soft touches and afternoon goodbyes with no real intention of parting. Azriel could feel himself hanging onto each word she uttered — could feel himself drunk on the sound of her laugh and calmed by the evenness of her breathing, her cheek on his chest and hand on his heart. She often slept like that, sprawled on him, each evening a test of his willpower not to confess how well the warmth of her body lulled him to a peaceful rest he never thought he’d be capable of.
Before either of them realized it, the semester came to a close — lines of exhaustion had faded from their faces after what Elain had emphatically declared to be the “Finals Week from Hell.” She’d laughed when she said it on one particular afternoon, but Azriel could see that there was something behind her warm brown eyes when she’d breathed in a little roughly afterward. His hand had found hers on a park bench nearby their favorite tea shop, eyes softening and face gently tilted to the side. She returned his stare, her mouth pressing together in a small grin that didn’t quite reach the rest of her expression. Squeezing his fingers, she quickly looked downward and took a sip of her drink before quickly getting up and pulling him to his feet.
“Let’s go,” she breathed, “We’ve got to start chopping vegetables if we’re ever going to try that pasta recipe.”
He looked down at her, returning the squeeze as he nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they turned in the direction of his apartment. She reached around his waist, leaning her body into his as the cool air bit at their cheeks.
Azriel suddenly found himself thinking that it might have been wonderful if she could read his mind, then, for she would know that if her heart ever needed rest from the exhaustion of life — from that occasional reminders of grief that ebbed and flowed — it would have his own for however long she needed.
She pushed aside the ache that had been lingering among nearly every one of her thoughts for the time being–time with Azriel was quickly becoming sacred to her, and she didn’t dare darken the mood during what had been a perfect day together. With her body pressed against his side, she allowed the smell of cedar and mist to flush away the reminders of why that time of year had reminded her of the ruins that her father’s passing had left her in — why she’d be spending so much time with the group of friends she and her sisters had gathered since coming to Velaris for university.
From up ahead, she could hear a faint scratching in the distance as they approached an alley next to Azriel’s apartment building. She lifted her head from his side, her brow furrowing in concentration as she looked forward toward the noise.
“Do you hear that?” She asked, her hand loosening from his waist and pace quickening as a lone cardboard box pressed against the side of the building came into full view.
Azriel frowned. “It sounds like an animal.” He said, his hand reluctantly returning to his side. “Surely not…”
Elain bent at the side of the box, lifting the unsealed flaps so that it hung open before them. Two kittens — one as black as night and the other white as snow — sat on a blanket within, soft meows escaping them at the sight of Elain peering down.
“My goodness…” she let out, a hand floating to her mouth that hung open in shock, “th–they’ve been left here.”
She picked one up, gently so as not to startle it or its sibling, and cradled it to her chest. It was cool to the touch, fur tickled by moisture that was all around them in the frigid air. “It’s been snowing...these poor things...they’re so cold.”
Azriel bent to his knee and reached into the box, gathering the white kitten in his hands as she looked at him. His expression was soft as he lifted the little thing to his chest as well, cradling it so that it lay pressed against the dark gray of his sweater.
For a moment, she saw something that hadn’t been there a moment ago — a sadness in him that she felt mirrored her own in a way that she could only attempt to explain. It came in subtle movements of his hand, stuttering its movement when petting the kitten’s head, and his eyebrows, furrowing so slightly when its little body moved closer to him in search of warmth. She didn’t dare ask — didn’t dare prod for something she saw as the likelihood of concealed anguish, but instead tried to keep her voice gentle as she spoke again.
“Who could do such a thing?” She asked no one in particular, glancing around as if there was a chance at seeing the person who had left them here fleeing the scene.
Azriel stayed quiet for a moment, but then cleared his throat. “Cruelty is not so hard to come across, I find.”
It was the deepness of his tone and distance in his eyes that told her something within him had indeed been awoken by how lonely and cruel the world could be — for something even so defenseless as a kitten. Elain’s heart clenched for him — had hurt for the reflection of pain that he could not hide as well from someone like her...someone who knew it well.
The intense desire to show him he wasn’t alone in whatever hurt he might be enduring seized her like nothing ever had before. Deep within her, she felt a cord tight around her heart anchoring her to that thought as she held her breath in fear he would sense her concern.
The kitten in her arms nuzzled the crook of her elbow, a soft purr rumbling through it as she scratched behind its ear. She attempted to focus — they’d figure out what to do once they got them both inside, warm and fed and sleeping on a soft pillow, perhaps. What mattered most was that they had a place to rest — had somewhere safe. She knew, somehow, that Azriel would feel the same.
“We can’t…” she began, shaking her head, “we can’t leave them here all alone.”
His eyes met hers. He nodded once, silent as his scarred hand stroked the kitten’s fur.
Face unreadable in the dimming daylight, Azriel focused on the kitten in his arms as she gently reached out to him, straightening her legs to stand. Looking up at her, at her outstretched hand, he smiled softly and let the warmth of his scarred palm radiate through them both, rising to meet her as they moved to enter the building.
Silently, Elain wished then to let him know somehow that she would never leave him out in the cold, either — to let him know the cruelty of the world wouldn’t touch him if she had any say in the matter. However, for now, she could only squeeze his hand and hope that it relayed the sentiment in some way he’d understand.
“I think this one likes me,” Elain smiled, legs crossed in front of her on the hardwood as the midnight-colored kitten climbed over her ankles on its journey to her lap. She smiled at it, her long golden brown waves falling over her shoulder. Azriel glanced down at her on the floor, his hands stilling from the chopping of an onion in the kitchen of the apartment he shared with Rhysand and Cassian — both of whom were notably absent, likely having already made weekend plans with Elain’s sisters that included neither Azriel nor her.
He remained fixed on that image of her, leaning against his couch, wearing a pair of black jeans and white collared shirt. She sniffled once, wrinkling her nose, brushing her hands up and down her arms once as the heater attempted to warm the living room. “I think you’re right,” he mumbled. She lifted her eyes to him, grinning in response.
“There’s a sweater on top of my dresser, if you’d like one, by the way.” Azriel added, nodding his head toward his bedroom — closest to her from the hallway that led to his brothers’ doors. “Rhys is surprisingly quite frugal when it comes to using the thermostat.” He rolled his eyes. “I apologize.”
Elain laughed. She uncrossed her legs, thick socks brushing on the floor as she moved to stand and walked toward his open door. “Better for the environment, though.”
She disappeared for a moment, leaving only the sounds of the near-boiling water on the stove and the soft crunch of Azriel’s resumed chopping.
She returned, a white sweater with the ringed pattern knit in blue and gray hanging loosely down below her hips, a knowing smile on her lips as she approached him in the kitchen. “Matching sweaters?”
He grinned. His own, dark gray version of the same pattern, fit much more appropriately on him as he pushed the sleeves up once more to accommodate the chopping he tried again to focus on. It was difficult — she was utterly delightful in his clothing, her hair now spilling across the thick material and hands drowning in the long sleeves. “I like what I like.”
“Ah,” Elain grinned, “I see. And what else do you like, Chef?”
He peered down at her moving closer behind his back to wrap her arms around his waist. The sleeves on her arms squeezed his torso, her body pressing into him as he carefully chopped the onion again, adding the contents to the pile of vegetables ready to add to Elain’s recipe. Azriel smiled gently to himself as he replied, “I think our new roommate could give you a hint.”
He felt the rumble of her laughter on his back, sending a jolt through him. Both kittens laid together on the plush blankets that Elain had laid down for them, their little paws curled beneath them as they pressed into each other. “Careful. Rhysand might not like you referring to them that way before he meets them.”
“Rhysand can deal with it,” Azriel said playfully, “contrary to what he thinks, he’s not the boss of this apartment.”
Elain laughed again, moving her hands so they brushed small circles on his stomach atop his thick gray sweater. He found himself staring at them, transfixed by the simple act of intimacy that stirred something in him he wasn’t sure had ever been there before.
The water began boiling behind them on the stove, prompting Elain to remove her arms from his waist. Azriel frowned.
“Almost done with that? The sauce is quite simple once you saute the garlic and onion,” Elain said, pouring the pasta shells into the pot and grabbing a wooden spoon from the counter to stir the contents. She hummed a simple melody to herself, pouring oil into the pan on the other burner as Azriel joined her, gently emptying the contents of his chopped ingredients.
Leaning over her, Azriel grabbed a spatula to begin pushing the contents of the pan around, their bodies coinhabiting the same few feet in front of the stove. Elain smiled up at him, bumping him gently with her hip. The glow in her brown eyes warmed him thoroughly as she spoke, her voice quiet. “I like you, too.”
Azriel stared at her. The right words to describe how he felt eluded him as he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against her cheek. They continued to cook the rest of the meal in a daze — Azriel wondering how exactly to tell Elain that like didn’t really begin to cover how he felt.
Soft murmurs floating from the television awoke Elain in the darkness, her head lifting from Azriel’s chest as she took in the room around her. Beneath their spot on the couch, the two kittens slept in the same spot as before, nestled together on the blankets close enough to them that they could hear if anything was wrong. Smiling at the serenity of the image of them sleeping so comfortably, Elain reached over Azriel’s body to grab the remote and paused the episode of The Great British Baking Show that they’d fallen asleep to. The TV clicked off, leaving them in the stillness of the night, only the sound of Azriel’s soft breathing and the hum of the heater filling the room.
She looked at him carefully, her head turning upward to get a glance at his closed eyes and softly parted lips. His hair hung across his forehead in loose waves, causing a deep desire within Elain to be able to push it back for him. As if he could sense that she was watching — that she was thinking of him — she felt his hands tighten around her, his right arm pulling her closer to his side, ignoring the simple fact that she was already glued there completely. His left hand, she realized, had been clutching her right, placed on his heart while they slept.
Beautiful , she thought, as his broad chest rose and fell, right beneath her, ready to hold her when she relaxed again. She felt herself melt toward him subconsciously, so encircled by his warmth, his scent, and his….strength that she couldn’t resist but to lay her head back down on him. Eyes fixed on his scarred hand covering hers, she slowly blinked, breathing in his presence.
“What are you thinking about?” He whispered, so softly she almost wondered if he had still been asleep. She cursed herself for waking him, so aware that he rarely got enough sleep as it was.
“About how lovely of a cushion you are,” she whispered back, “and how soft a landing you created for me.”
The rumble of a silent chuckle on his chest made her heart clench in joy. She loved nothing more than to hear that laugh, but feeling it would do for now.
She didn’t know if there had been a word to describe how she felt about him — about the way he made her feel. He was beautiful — painfully so — but she found that it was in the casual familiarity and intimacy that her love for him had bloomed. Only in the past would Elain have considered that companionship was just an element of love, realizing fully in those moments that falling in love (and falling in love with Azriel in particular) had been a long continuous revelation that it wasn’t so outrageous to give your heart to someone and believe it it might’ve been theirs to care for all along.
He was silent for a moment, rubbing his hand up and down her back as he held his other above hers on his heart. When he spoke again, it was slightly louder than before, his voice a deep, smooth sound that she swore narrated her dreams as of late. “You have all of me, Elain. A place to land, for one. But an ear to listen, as well….a heart,” He squeezed her hand, “....and everything else.”
She closed her eyes. He couldn’t have known she was thinking of all the ways she admired and trusted and cherished and loved him, but if he could indeed read her mind, he would’ve understood that she unflinchingly offered the same to him — had known she would give him everything she had, as well.
“You know...” she found herself whispering back, the room around them keeping them cloaked in silence, “I’m not sure I ever understood what the poets meant about love until I saw you holding that kitten today.”
Elain felt Azriel stiffen slightly at the words hanging in the air. She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest so she looked up at him briefly, their eyes meeting in the darkness. He breathed slowly, his face deep in thought.
Time passed, and Elain felt unsure if Azriel had gone back to sleep as she lay there, thinking about how she wouldn’t mind if that moment never ended. It was only when she heard a soft breath above her that she looked up again.
The corners of his mouth gently curled up, so softly and sleepily as he raised his hand to the side of her face, brushing a strand of hair away and holding her gaze on him.
“I could get used to you saying that word.”
She smiled. “Which one? Kitten?”
“Love,” he said, stroking his thumb on her cheek, “I’ve never heard it like that before.”
Despite the fact that she could confess her love a thousand different ways to Azriel and still feel new sensations on her tongue each time, she knew that this would be her favorite: quietly, where only they could hear, when their hearts could lay together as she believed they always would.
“Like what?”
He paused.
“Like it was chosen for this,” he said simply. “Like it was meant for us.”
They held each other, quiet in that darkness, for what might’ve been proof to them both of love that could drive out the deepest pain and sadness — pain that could not touch them as long as they didn’t let go.
