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The winter season always finds a way to bring Thomas' mood down by the day.
The dreaded solstice that lets darkness overthrow the light. The biweekly calls from his superiors and family members asking how he is, and how he always has the same half-assed answer, saying he's alright. It feels all so redundant, rehearsed like a script he's tired of reciting.
This year feels no different, but the lines have their new additions.
"Oh yeah, and how's that girlfriend of yours?"
The colleague on the phone asks. Normally, Thomas would be enthusiastic to talk about his partner, but a quizzical look on his face says otherwise. A sharp inhale makes him slightly choke. Even with the disruption, there's no happy answer that comes into his brain. Maybe the man on the other side of the call would get it. And he does as Thomas sighs loudly.
"I know that feeling. The wife and I've been having disagreements on Christmas plans."
"No, I-" Thomas tentatively responds, mentally brushing off the other answers he prepared in the fear of oversharing.
"It's... It's alright, Chris."
He looks into the distance, more bitter and depraved of feeling despite the (probably) long nap he took.
"I mean… we're alright."
They were far from alright.
—
One week ago.
Thomas and Jane were in their apartment, despite the closed windows and homey lights, the cold still found its way in. They both went home from a bar feeling pretty lightheaded.
"What the fuck was that? I could've handled that myself!"
Thomas looked at his shoes and the clean red rug in their apartment, refusing to look back up at Jane's fury-filled face. She wouldn't admit that guilt washed her too. She could purse her lips, furrow her eyebrows, and curse at her boyfriend all she wants, but she still cares. She didn't want him to get hurt, she didn't want him to get so riled up with another man attempting to make a move on her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want him to be all over you! God knows what he would've done if I wasn't there."
Thomas still has the mental image, and he hates it. He looks at his knuckles, bright red with splotches of blood from all that brute physicality. He remembers Jane rejecting a "hug" from a random man at the bar, but to Thomas, it was more than that. He could hurt Jane in multiple ways, and Thomas didn't want to enable that despite the random's esteemed innocence. While he retaliated through a fight, he did want something from Jane, Thomas just couldn't tell what.
And he doesn't want to know. He can't bring himself to do it. Just because he's used to violence doesn't mean the fighting spirit ever comes easy.
"I know you wanted to save me, but you didn't need to punch him," Jane sighed.
"I think I'll take a shower," she quickly added.
"You're just going to let it go like that? What if he-"
"Well, he didn't! And I don't even want to think about this!" Jane stormed off, leaving a shocked but frustrated Thomas alone.
Maybe it's from her wanting to prove her independence, or not looking too much of a damsel in distress with clueless hands, but she didn't need saving. She's taken several self-defense classes during her teenage years, and it could've actually been useful.
She loves him, Jane really does. But she didn't need his help with everything. That's what she thought. Why couldn't Thomas see that?
—
"I know she didn't want me to save her, but I was just so worried," Thomas sighs, starting to pace around their bedroom.
"Well, is she upset at you?" Chris asks, his words slightly buffering due to his signal.
"She's upset, then she's busy. It's like we're more roommates than lovers."
"You should talk to her about it. Would serve you and her some good."
"I was going to. I'm trying to. But-"
"But?"
Thomas takes a pause, trying to carefully select his words.
"We've both been busy, and we can hardly make time for each other."
—
Four days ago.
“Oh yeah, dinner already on the counter, babe,” Jane absentmindedly reminds Thomas, tying up the shoelace to her tight black go-to shoes for her meeting.
He stands there in the archway to the kitchen slash dining room only with a towel wrapped around his waist, fresh out of the shower. He thought she’d stay home for their movie night, or that they’d finally eat together for the first time in a while. No hectic schedules, no disrupting calls, just the two of them in their lovely home.
“Gotta go. Love you,” She gives a sweet peck to Thomas before stopping to give a snarky look. His silence and frankly, his lack of enthusiasm, is quite unusual for her.
“Come on, don’t give me that. I know it sucks that I have to leave last minute, but I gotta do my job,” Jane says as she hugs him, inhaling a little of his scent. Right before dashing out of their home slightly late at night.
“Right. Love you too,” whispers Thomas when she doesn’t even wait for him to reply as she leaves. What she didn’t see was the red eyes and flushed face of the man, where he wasted his shower time sobbing his life out.
He loves his Jane, he really does. But thoughts are roaming around his mind, asking if Jane still wants him. If he can get through this winter still conscious and healthy, he has to get through without frequently brooding like a loser.
Thomas couldn’t even count how many meetings it’s actually been these past few weeks, or if it’s just an excuse for her to frequently leave the house.
Is resentment slowly building in?
Thomas knows better than to hate Jane for simply doing her job, but he won’t hesitate to say that their clashing, hectic schedules are slowly drifting them apart and feeding into his seasonal depression.
He loves her, of course, he does. Thomas only ever wanted the best for her and her career. But it’s like writing is all she ever cared about, and even if her own boyfriend was by her side, she’d only give a slight nod and return to writing.
Thomas doesn’t resent Jane. At least not yet. He doesn’t want it to end there. Why couldn’t Jane see that?
—
"Well, Christmas is fairly close. With vacation coming up, can't you guys just talk it out?"
Muffled voices come from downstairs. Loud, distracting, and lastly too dramatic for him.
"Well, I will. We got some free time tonight. Got any idea what I can do to make it up to her?"
"No clue. Better do it quick, though."
"Right, right."
That did not help the soldier at all. Tapping the nightstand, he agrees with a flat tone. He could pinpoint the moment the man on the other side of the phone smiles and tries to stifle his laugh.
"It's just 8pm. Give her a little surprise. You know the nights not over yet."
A small chuckle comes out on Chris' end. Thomas rolls his eyes, and his jaw tightens.
The cell service was choppy, but Thomas didn't bother to hear any other word as he clicked the hang-up button.
"Whatever. He and his wife have their own problems," Thomas puts down the phone and dashes out of their bedroom door.
Downstairs, a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies and an empty wine glass lie on a picnic mat. Thomas could recognize the scene that's playing from anywhere. It's one of Jane's favorite movies, the one that makes her cry into his arms and sob like a baby every time she watches it. He's all too familiar.
As for Jane herself, she's just watching so far. Her head is lying on the edge of the couch, like she's experiencing everything again for the first time. She grips it tightly, like looking for a barrier. Waiting for something, or someone to swoop in and comfort her.
Hesitant as he is, Thomas approaches Jane. Slow but steady. Open but cautious. She pauses the movie and looks towards him. Eyes having a little sparkle, Jane whispers a small, "Miss you," with a very weak tone.
Thomas gives a weak smile and sits on the mat, not too close to her. He picks up a cookie and silently stares at the screen.
"I'm sorry," Thomas lets out solemnly. Eating the crispy and decadent cookie, still not looking at his girlfriend.
"You don't have to say that. In fact..."
Jane scoots closer to Thomas and buries her head on his shoulder. She could smell the lavender and nutmeg from his perfume. It suits him, reminds her of home. Technically, their home.
"I think- No, I definitely fucked up. I'm sorry," Jane apologizes.
Neither of them presses continue on the movie and continues to stay silent. For what feels like an eternity, Thomas takes another cookie and wraps his arms around Jane. She sighs softly and moves herself so lightly that it looks like Thomas cradles her. Nestling her so gently, his touch is the only thing she needs.
"Look, you've got every right to be upset. I know I haven't been that attentive to you." Jane says, forcefully closing her eyes.
Thomas lets another minute pass by to be silent. Not that he doesn't forgive Jane, he just worries about upsetting her more.
"You keep saying that."
That catches Jane's attention as she now looks up to him. His face goes from neutral to worrisome. Oh, what to say next?
"It killed me knowing we couldn't spend a lot of winter together. I mean, just the two of us. I know we just have to do our jobs, but it sucks."
"I miss you, Jane," Thomas muffles, kissing Jane on the forehead while hugging her.
That eased Jane a little. When she looked like she was going to cry earlier, now she feels relief. Her shoulders loosen up, and she smiles at him.
"I miss you too, Thomas."
She kisses him once on the cheek. She looks up and sees him flustered before her and decides to kiss him again. On the lips this time, she didn't want him to suffer.
"I missed you, so so so much," She showers him with kisses all over his face and trails some of them down to his neck. Only stopping to give him a small but painless bite. As Thomas pretends to wince, both of them stop in their tracks to laugh as Thomas hugs Jane tighter than he already did.
"Don't worry. As you can see, I have just the thing to make it up to you!"
"Cookies and watching your favorite movie?"
"Correction, our favorite movies. I got some DVDs at the store for us to watch. Since you know..."
She whispers, "The night's not over yet."
Thomas scoffs at those words, pulling Jane in for one more kiss before putting one arm around her waist to get her to sit on his lap. The other brushes her hair and goes down to trace small circles on her back.
As the movie finally continues, their dynamics slowly go back to how they were used to. Small inside jokes, reciting some lines verbatim, and teasing about anything. Thomas' rough, yet familiar hands invite her to make his shoulder a pillow and let her know it's alright to fall asleep in his arms. Around the end credits of the third or fourth movie, the cookie plate has been licked clean, and neither person is awake.
Day or night, it didn't matter anymore. He has her by his side, and that's all that matters.
They feel so safe in each other's arms, and now they don't want to ever let go.