Work Text:
I want you to stay.
Why did five simple words bring his whole life to a standstill?
Lloyd stood before the half-packed crates as though they had become foreign objects, a finger pushing his glasses upwards. For over an hour, he had done nothing but rest his palm against the lid of one, thumb tracing the seam where wood met iron hinge. It should have been sealed by now. By dawn, it should have been stacked with the others, ready to load onto a wagon bound east.
Spices wrapped in wax paper, each parcel labeled in his careful handwriting. Dried herbs tied in neat bundles with twine. Glass bottles nested in straw. Gemstones laid in velvet pouches, catching the firelight in fractured bursts of ruby and sapphire and emerald.
He knew the numbers without opening the ledger. He knew which towns would pay double for saffron in winter. He knew which caravans were reliable and which would shave profit from the margins if given the chance. He knew that novelty sold. That distance created demand. That being unattainable made him valuable. He had made himself valuable.
So why was he still here?
The lantern flame dipped, guttered low, then steadied itself again. Light slid across the cramped room, across stacks and stacks of crates, across the narrow bed, across the open ledger filled with columns of figures that might as well have been scripture. He had built himself on those figures.
I want you to stay.
He set aside his glasses and shut his eyes.
So many people had said it before.
The first had been years ago, back when ambition burned so hot inside him that it eclipsed everything else. He had been young and restless. Their words had sounded like fear, and he told himself that love which asked him to shrink was not love worth keeping. He left without looking back.
The second time, he had hesitated, only for a night. He remembered the calculation clearly: one week delayed departure equaled three markets missed. Three markets meant a loss that would ripple for months. He had told himself that practicality was kindness. He had kissed a forehead, murmured reassurances he did not intend to keep, and left.
The third time had been the worst. He could still recall the way the horizon had looked that morning. The thought of trading that horizon for anything else had frightened him more than loneliness ever could. He convinced himself that ambition was nobler than comfort, that attachment was simply a luxury not meant for men like him, and left.
After that, leaving became easier.
So why did this time feel different?
Why did Gretal matter?
I want you to stay.
Hadn’t he told her over a cup of tea that life was a series of hellos and goodbyes? Attachment was temporary. The road was the only constant. He had spoken with such certainty, as though he were doing her a kindness by preparing her for his eventual departure.
Had he been preparing himself?
Was Gretal even just a friend?
He pressed his palms against his eyes until sparks popped behind them. This was absurd. He was a successful merchant, not a lovesick fool unraveling over a sentence.
And yet five simple words had undone him.
“Shit,” he murmured, almost bitterly. “Why now?”
Why, when he had finally perfected the art of leaving?
I want you to stay.
He moved to the window and pushed it open a fraction. Cold air slipped inside, carrying the faint scent of fresh snow and wild mint and chimney smoke. Somewhere beyond the clustered rooftops, the market square, the frozen river, and up the hill, was her farmhouse. Half-buried now, no doubt. Drifts climbing the sides of the barn. Fences swallowed whole.
He imagined her out there earlier in the day, boots crunching through ice, hands reddened from breaking frozen troughs. He imagined her stubborn tilt of the chin when something refused to cooperate. He imagined the way she brushed stray hair from her face with the back of her hand. He didn’t like how often his mind wandered to her porch light. He didn’t like how useless he felt picturing her working alone while he stood surrounded by luxuries.
He could at least (he reasoned with himself) live off the scraps of her company in his dreams when he left, those small conversations about the farm, about stubborn cattle and early frost, about which hen had taken to roosting in the wrong place again. It was okay, he rationalized, the idea of her waking up tomorrow to an empty storefront at the bazaar- of her nodding once, unsurprised, and carrying on as if she’d expected nothing else-
I want you to stay.
Lloyd sighed and finally let the words hang in the air, seating himself in a chair.
Oh, who was he kidding?
The town was quiet beneath its white shroud. His mind was not, roaring with a single, relentless truth.
When day broke, he would go to her first. He would stand at her doorstep, boots dusted with snow, breath fogging in the cold, and say what he had wrestled with for months. He would give her back her own words and mean each one.
He would stay when it was easy.
He would stay when it was hard.
He would stay when love was bright and when it required them to climb mountains to be together again.
Whether she loved him in the way he hoped, or not, he promised himself he would not run. He would not let rejection turn into another excuse to leave.
He would stay, he would stay, he would stay.
Light snow drifted from a pale morning sky, catching in the wool of Lloyd’s coat and clinging to his lashes. The storm had passed in the night, leaving Zephyr Town washed clean and quiet.
Lloyd stood at the edge of the square, bundled in layers he hadn’t needed yesterday but clung to now like armor. His scarf was wrapped too tight. He had rehearsed this a dozen times in the dark, and now his thoughts tripped over each other. Every line he’d prepared felt foolish in the daylight.
He leaned back against the nearest wall, the cold stone biting through his coat. The shock of it steadied him and forced air into his lungs. He exhaled slowly, watching the mist dissolve as he pushed up his glasses.
Across the speckled rolling green and white, near the pond, he spotted her.
She stood at the frozen edge of the water, scarf tucked close to her chin, studying the sheet of ice that glazed its surface. Frost had covered the reeds along the bank. Lloyd watched as she examined the thin fractures beneath the ice where trapped air formed delicate white veins.
His heartbeat stumbled, then began to pound in earnest.
He could still leave. He could turn back, claim he had errands, and tell himself he would find a better moment. He knew that script well. He had lived by it.
Instead he pushed himself from the wall.
Each step toward the pond felt louder than it should have, his boots crunching softly over fresh snow. The distance between them shrank too quickly and not quickly enough. He was doing this. He would do this.
Gretal tilted her head slightly, as if she’d sensed him before she saw him. When she turned, the morning light caught her face, and whatever composure he’d scraped together threatened to scatter again.
He kept walking until he was a few feet away, close enough to see the reflection of the sky in her eyes, close enough that turning back would now be obvious.
His hands were cold despite the gloves. His mouth had gone dry. The words he’d practiced hung somewhere behind his ribs, stubborn and heavy.
Still, he had come this far.
“Hey, Gretal,” he said, and even to his own ears her name sounded different, soft and tender.
Her eyes flicked toward him, sharp and assessing, and one brow arched immediately. You look like you swallowed a nail, she signed.
Lloyd almost laughed, which only made him more nervous. “Good morning to you too.”
She stepped closer, tilting her head, unimpressed. You’re acting strange.
“I’m fine,” he said, which only made her brows lift higher.
You are never fine when you say you’re fine. What’s wrong? Her stance changed, weight settling evenly instead of cocked to one hip. Her gaze held his face like she was searching for cracks.
Lloyd’s rehearsed speech vanished. He pulled off one glove, then shoved it back on. Instinctively he reached for a strand of his hair and began twirling it around his finger. “I-” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to tell you something.”
Her expression brightened instantly with mischief. Oh? She leaned in with exaggerated curiosity. Is this a confession? Should I sit down?
Heat rushed to his face despite the cold. “Don’t- don’t start.”
She grinned, clearly delighted that she’d hit her mark. Well? You dragged yourself across town looking like that for a reason. Spill.
Lloyd inhaled deeply, the cold air biting his lungs. “I’ve been thinking,” he began.
Her eyes rolled immediately. That explains the tragic expression. Her grin grew wider.
“I’m serious.”
Her smile faded, just a little. She nodded once, giving him her attention fully now.
“I’ve been thinking about… what you said. About… things.”
Dangerous pastime, she signed. Do go on.
He ran a gloved hand through his hair, dislodging a few snowflakes. This had been braver in his head. “About traveling. About the shop. About-” He faltered again, frustration flashing across his face. “About my life.”
Gretal’s teasing stilled. And? she prompted.
He exhaled hard through his nose, like a man bracing before a plunge. “I’m staying.”
She blinked.
Lloyd forced himself not to look away. “I’m done travelling, Gretal. I’m not leaving Zephyr Town.”
For a moment, she just stared at him, before signing incredulously, WHAT? Since WHEN? You hate sitting still. Are you ill? Did you hit your head?
Lloyd couldn’t help it, he smiled. “I thought you’d have questions.”
Of course I have questions, she shot back. You’ve been planning your next departure since the day you arrived.
He nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
Gretal stayed still.
“You told me how I treat this place like it’s temporary. Like people are… temporary.” His voice thinned at the edges but didn’t break. “I didn’t like hearing it. But I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
Her hands hovered midair, suspended.
“And I realized, wherever I went,” he said, slower now, more sure, “I was measuring it against here. Against you.”
Her eyes widened.
“I know what I want now,” he continued. “Wherever I am in the world, I want to be where you are.”
The color rose to her cheeks so suddenly it startled him.
Gretal looked caught off guard. Her lips parted slightly. For the first time since he’d known her, she didn’t have a ready retort.
Not to mention she was blushing.
A spark of exhilaration shot through him, bright and reckless. He had never seen that look on her before. It felt like stepping onto solid ground after months at sea.
Careful, he warned himself. A blush was not a confession. She hadn’t answered him, not really.
She recovered quickly, of course she did, but her next signs were shaky. That’s… a big thing to say, Lloyd.
“I know.”
You’d give up the road. For Zephyr Town?
“For a life,” he corrected.
Her hands hesitated.
For me?
He didn’t look away. “You’re part of that.”
Gretal clasped her hands in front of her shyly, and all Lloyd could wonder was how she’d suddenly become more precious than the sun.
A grin broke across his face, uncontainable. “I’m… excited,” he said, voice spilling out in a rush. “I know it sounds strange, but setting up shop in one place, staying put- it’s… it’s a new challenge. Something I’ve never done. I don’t know exactly what to expect, but I’m thrilled. Thrilled to tackle it head-on and build something here.”
Gretal didn’t respond right away. She simply stared at him, the flush in her cheeks deepening, and Lloyd could only laugh softly at how utterly flabbergasted she looked. It told him all he needed to know.
So he decided to take the plunge. “And… what about you?” he asked, taking a small step closer. “What do you think? About… me, about this? About us?”
Her eyes widened, and without hesitation, her hands sprang into motion. I’ve fallen in love with you. I… I fell in love with you long ago, but I was so scared you would leave.
His chest tightened. His face fell ever so slightly, the weight of the words settling in, and he let out a knowing sigh. “After you asked me to stay…” he admitted, stepping closer with each word, “…my mind unraveled. I realized a lot of things.” He paused, eyes roving over Gretal as she gently backed up against a tree. “But- but the only thing that is important is this. I… I’m head over heels in love with you. And I need to stay. Here. With you.”
Gretal let out a whistle through her nose as she laughed, bright and clean. So stay with me.
“I want more than that,” Lloyd whispered, caging her with his arms. “I want… everything with you.”
What else could you possibly want? she signed, smirking. You already have me.
He tilted his head, a small, devilish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well…” he murmured, voice low and laden, “I think I’d like to have more than just a kiss right now.”
Her hands flew to her face, pressing into her reddened cheeks. Her eyes sparkled, half-shocked, half-amused, and she stilled, caught between laughter and embarrassment.
Lloyd’s hands trembled as he pried Gretal’s hands to the side and tilted her chin upwards, touching their foreheads together as he let himself be lost in her eyes. They were flecked gold and violet, like the twilight sky, and they shimmered with astonishment, with wonder- Lloyd swore right then and there he finally understood infinity.
He leaned into her and her sigh was almost breathless, a melody that sank deep into him and tightened his chest in anticipation. Their lips met tentatively at first, and when she responded, wrapping her arms around his neck, it sent an electric shiver down his spine.
He deepened the kiss, tasting the faint salt of her skin and the sweetness that clung like sunlight to her. It made him dizzy with desire. His hands slid down her sides, cupping her waist, fingers digging gently into the small of her back to anchor her to him. Her hands slid from his shoulders into his hair, threading through the strands, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t stand even the slightest distance between them. His lips trailed over hers in slow, teasing motions, brushing and lightly nipping, coaxing a shiver from her that made his pulse race. Her breath quickened, shallow and urgent, mingling with his own in a shared rhythm that was as intoxicating as it was inevitable.
When they pulled back just enough to look at one another, he traced two fingers down her spine and gently rubbed circles on her lower back. “I’ve wanted that,” he murmured, voice low, roughened by desire and awe. “I’ve wanted that for so long.” She laughed softly, a sound like wind through leaves, as she reached to clean his fogged-up glasses.
Lloyd chuckled as he watched her wipe the lenses. Hey,” he said, “would you help me with something?” He hesitated, shifting slightly so he could meet her gaze fully. “I left a shipment over at the Blue Windmill. Could you help me pack it up?”
Gretel paused mid-motion, her eyes flicking to his with a teasing glint. She nodded slowly, and with a cheeky flick of her fingers, she signed back, Sure… but you’ll owe me.
Lloyd raised an eyebrow as Gretal placed his glasses back on his face. “And how exactly am I supposed to pay you back?”
A coy smile graced her face, and she shrugged with a mock innocence that warmed his chest. You’ll see, she signed, then slipped from his grasp like a shadow and skipped toward the direction of the Blue Windmill, light-footed and impossibly cheerful.
Lloyd watched her go, footprints appearing in the snow, and the sunlight hit the lenses of his glasses, scattering tiny prisms of color across the ground and her feet. His chest tightened when she looked back and smiled brilliantly at him.
He would stay. He had to stay. Every dream he’d chased felt empty next to a life with her.