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So many types of cars now, with weird swingy doors and certainly not aerodynamic bodies. Cybertrucks- or "heaps of junk" he calls them.
They're by the park, going home. Cole doesn't care if he looks weird talking to nobody. Never even thought of it. But now is a quiet moment of pleasant company. Bea walking behind, loving the fresh air, briefly out of comments and questions. Taking in all that lives.
All that...
The headphones that normally attribute to his invisibility rest round his collar. His hands keep to his pockets. The sun catches his eyes as he steps off the sidewalk, All Stars stumbling. He blinks.
Something is very loud and very close.
His hoodie yanks backward, almost choking, pulling him off the street right as some junk heap grazes past. It's Bea.
"COLE!!"
Gosh, the nerve! Almost dying the same way she did? To some GARBAGE CAN? She feels beyond peeved.
"Bea, I'm-"
"Save it." She stares him down as she marches ahead, crossing the street. "Honestly-!"
"Watch out-!"
She turns and gasps just as a buggy- not at all a doozy- speeds right through her. She screams before realizing nothing else happened.
Cole sees her ghostly form briefly dissipate before reforming, just like the ring going on and off, but the violent tear through the middle is horrific.
It happens again. And again. She shudders. She's invisible. She can't move, stunned eyes caught in the headlights.
"Hold on!"
Hurriedly, but CAREFULLY avoiding oncoming traffic, Cole weaves to her side in the middle of the street. He knows this doesn't hurt her, but it hurts to see. It's not fair. Can she hear him? Is he losing her?
Did he remember to speak?
"Bea."
She looks up at his eyes shining with worry. They stand there as a few cars brush by. He's the only thing stopping the barrage. Her hand phases through his.
"T- Take my jacket." He takes off his left sleeve. "Here. Just hold on, okay?"
She holds on to it like an anchor. Bea hadn't noticed how LOUD everything is now, but it's quite a shock. They shuffle to the edge of the street. He keeps looking back at her.
"Almost there."
They make it to the sidewalk in a relieved kneel, taking deep breaths.
"You okay?" He half reaches for her shoulder.
She shakes her head, laughing it off. "That's why planes are better. Less traffic!"
"Fair enough. However, I can cross the street without you saving my neck."
She glares.
"Thank you! I mean thank you."
She smiles, then notices the hoodie wrapped round her shoulders like a cape. She touches it. "What's this for?"
Testing a theory, Cole wraps one arm around her hoodied shoulders, holding her at his side. It works. His heart glows.
"I... I want you to feel safe."
Softly, "Don't think I have a choice."
Hands on either side, he holds her all the way home.
-
It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair.
A century without affection, without being seen or heard, without being looked after. Someone as cool- the bee's knees!!! - as Beatrix deserves better.
Who, meanwhile, is dodging whatever flying shirts and blankets and cat's pajamas this boy can dig out of their closet.
"Look!" It's a quilt.
She raises her eyebrows. "I told you, Cole. That kind of ghost costume is offensive."
"Not a costume."
They face each other, quilt wall between them. He holds it up as if preparing a-
"Magic trick." He wants to believe so badly. "Just close your eyes for five seconds." Excitement bubbles up in his gentle voice.
"O~kay." she covers her eyes.
"One...two..."
"It's still gonna be this century, right?"
"Same century! Three...four..."
Please work, please work, please work, please work-!
"Five."
Something is very soft and very close.
Bea is greeted with the sight and feeling of the quilt wrapped around her waist and the person hugging it. Cole buries his face, afraid this won't be real.
"Oh, wow," she comments.
He smiles at her. He feels her arms rest on his present hoodie.
"You really are magic."
Warm, real, safe. Bea is small and big and small again. Her cold is overpowered. She realizes how cold she was, how different she could have felt. She's alone together with someone else. She is seen, she is loved, she is held. Her "breathing" (?) chokes up and tears spill down her face.
Barely audible, "You're h- hold- ing me..."
Nodding, own eyes watering, "I'm holding you."
The longer they stay like this, the more solid she feels.
-
Cole finds new ways of hugging her. From behind, either side, one arm. Letting her lay her head on his lap or shoulder. Holding more of her, closer, for longer. He can't breathe her in, but the essence of his clothes change, if only by virtue of an old bedroom in an old house. Either way, they feel more and more like home to each other.
Bea finds new ways of being hugged. For one, it happens at all. For another, she notes every tactile detail and attributes it to the hug. Cole is loose threads and pilling fabric. He's hand-sewn hearts and embroidered flowers. The tag with your name on it. Button-up rain drops.
-
The first thing he does is scoop her into his arms. What else?