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If Witch could find it in her to actually enjoy things such as the weather, she just might have said that today wasn’t so bad. The bright sky and warm air felt great, making it the absolute perfect conditions for gardening, which she was on her way to that very moment.
But her moment of peace was regrettably short lived, and she was soon reminded that all good things must come to an end at some point or another.
“Hello, my darling!” A cheerful, flamboyant, and unfortunately familiar voice called from behind Witch, causing her hackles to raise and an annoyed groan to escape her throat. It unmistakably belonged to that peculiar, stupid little bird who, for whatever reason, seemed to be absolutely infatuated with her: Smitten.
Witch turned around quickly before he could approach any further, unkeen on the chance of leaving her back turned to him. It was no secret that she found him quite annoying. Sure, he could be endearing at times, and yes, she had to admit that the praise he showered her in whenever they wound up in the same space actually felt kind of nice, but she couldn’t let her guard down, even for someone like him. No one was THAT forward and obvious with their intentions: either he was putting on a spectacle as a part of an elaborate scheme, or he was extremely ignorant to how the world worked. Judging by how she’s seen and heard him act around the rest of that wretched little group of birds, however, she was inclined to believe the latter.
“What do YOU want?” Witch demanded briskly, folding her arms. Frustratingly, Smitten must have failed to notice her mildly hostile countenance, continuing as enthusiastically as ever.
“Oh, I was merely wondering if you were in need of a bit of assistance, or company. Unless I stand corrected, this is the path that leads to your garden, is it not? Would you care to walk together?” Well, that was a flimsy answer if Witch had ever heard one.
“Why?” Witch inquired suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at the bird. “What’s in it for you? Why do you want to spend time with me so badly?”
“Why, because I love you, of course!” Smitten answered dutifully, as per usual. Eugh. Only Smitten could say something as stupid and as meaningless as that. It was dumb enough to make Witch gag.
“Oh please. You really think I’m going to believe that?” Witch scoffed, patience running thin. “Words mean nothing, and most especially from you, you naive fool!” Slight fear suddenly sprung up in Witch as she realized what she had said. She had insulted him. Surely, that would make him upset. Maybe he’ll finally snap back, no longer as enchanted by her as he initially claimed to be.
“Naive?” He echoed, pure puzzlement exhibited on his face. “You think I’m naive?”
Shoot. Well, she might as well be upfront about it.
“Well…yes, Smitten,” Witch confessed. “You’re far too trusting of people. I mean, how little experience with the world does someone have to have to be THAT open? I don’t know what your time in that wretched cabin looked like, but I envy it.”
Smitten went uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. Worry and dread mingled in Witch’s gut. Oh, she had really done it now–she had hurt his feelings, and now he’ll get angry, get defensive, maybe even get violent, maybe it was all a trick after all and he was about to drop the act and attack her she was in danger she–
“Witch dearest, may I show you something?” Smitten asked, tone measured and stoic. It was difficult to discern what emotions he felt. He didn’t sound particularly disappointed or upset, but obviously he wasn’t just brushing off Witch’s statement, either.
“...Perhaps. What’s this involve?” Witch answered cautiously, narrowing her eyes at him. Unlike some people, she wasn’t going to just blindly agree to anything.
“It involves you allowing me to take your hand,” Smitten explained as he extended his own towards hers. “I promise I won’t harm you.”
Witch’s first inclination was to reject his proposal, but something caused her to pause. He promised not to hurt her, and Witch had known Smitten for long enough to believe that while his declarations of love may be meaningless, he wasn’t one to go back on his promises.
Hesitantly, Witch reached her hand out. Her heart fluttered a bit–from her nervousness, of course–as she lightly placed her hand on his.
With utmost gentleness, Smitten closed his grasp around her hand. Witch almost laughed upon noticing how dull his talons were. She doubted he could scratch her if he tried. Did this silly bird not have any defenses?
Without warning, Smitten began to move Witch’s hand. At first, alarm bells sounded in her head, almost causing her to wrench away in panic. But she quickly calmed herself. He wasn’t one to back down from his promises, and she had to admit she was curious as to what he was doing.
In less than a heartbeat, their hands had reached their destination: Smitten’s fluffy chest.
“What–,” Witch started. She could feel her face grow a bit heated. Was his strategy really to win her over with…with outward passion? With the hope that she’ll find him attractive enough to forget her instincts? The bloke.
…Although, she did have to admit, he did feel amazing. If Witch had to describe how the heap of downy feathers felt, she would say that it was like touching a cloud. She hoped that Smitten couldn’t tell how much of an effect his ridiculous strategy was having on her.
But Witch didn’t have time to finish her objection nor her thoughts, because evidently, Smitten wasn’t stopping at the surface; He sunk her palm into the fluff, so deep that she came in contact with his skin.
Witch would’ve expected Smitten’s skin to be as soft as the rest of him. What she felt instead was the unmistakable rough seam of scar tissue. For a moment, her guard dropped entirely and her shock was openly expressed on her face.
Wordlessly, Smitten continued to guide Witch’s hand around his chest, running over countless little scars. He was absolutely littered in them. From what she could tell, they were knife wounds, undoubtedly inflicted by that nasty blade in the cabin.
Witch noticed that he was not only strangely silent, but also incredibly still. He was holding his breath. Was he nervous? Did it hurt to remember? Or perhaps they still physically hurt to touch. Her heart broke a little. What had he gone through? Who would do this to a guy like Smitten?
The closer they got to the center of his chest, the worse the wounds got. Witch could feel a particularly long, jagged mark, running right down the center of his sternum and spreading out a bit beneath and above his breasts, giving the impression of his ribcage being split in half. She felt sick trying to imagine what the story must have been there.
Finally, Smitten brought their hands to the spot right above his heart. Witch felt a small gasp escape her–the scars here were more horrific than anywhere else. They were twisted, deep, and undoubtedly fatal. She knew that that dreadful cabin had a habit of bringing people back from the dead, but she could only wonder how many times Smitten himself had to experience it.
Up until now, Smitten had done a decent job at staying calm, but when she ran her fingers along these deeper wounds, he was unable to suppress his flinch. He sent her an apologetic look in response. Witch almost couldn’t believe it–he was sorry? Now that was a bit concerning. Smitten shouldn’t feel like he should have to apologize for being hurt. Witch made a metal note to talk to him about that sometime.
Witch’s saddened thoughts began to abate as she became conscious of a heartbeat--Smitten's heartbeat--beneath the terrible scars. It was calm, rhythmic, and admittedly, quite comforting. She felt herself grow still both inside and out, now transfixed on the feeling of his beating heart.
“I love you, Witch,” Smitten finally broke the tense silence, tone low and thoughtful. Witch could detect a hint of wavering emotion in his voice. “I love you with all my heart.”
Another moment passed, another heartbeat or two, and Smitten pulled their hands away. Witch was still in a bit of a shock, nearly unable to tear her eyes from the place she knew such awful scars rested to look him in the eyes. Smitten's expression was for the most part serene and optimistic, with him even smiling, but Witch could see that it was strained. It must have been very difficult, even for him, to be that exposed.
“...I’m…I’m sorry,” Witch finally spoke, throat tight. She almost started to admonish herself. Was she really getting choked up over something someone else went through? She was supposed to be annoyed by him, not pity him!
“Hm? O-oh, there’s no need for that!” Smitten answered, laughing as if to lighten the mood. Instead it just sounded forced. “Old wounds, bygone days, none of that matters anymore! Why focus on the past when you can look towards the future?” Deflection: now that was a tactic familiar to Witch.
“A-anyways!” Smitten continued, nervousness apparent beneath his sudden spurt of enthusiasm. “I suppose I really ought to be off now! I’ve pestered you for long enough, and I’m sure that you have plenty of important things to do on this fine afternoon! G-goodbye!” He hurriedly turns to leave.
Ok, now that was alarming to Witch; Smitten NEVER left unless he absolutely had to. She didn’t doubt that he would spend every waking moment with her if allowed.
“Smitten–-wait!” Witch called, grabbing his hand without thinking. He froze, and Witch worried for a moment that she had made the wrong move by touching him without permission while he was clearly upset. He turned back around, and she cautiously brought her hand–and her eyes–away from his.
“It’s…ok to be upset by the past, even if things are better now. It’s ok to still feel pain. You…do realize that, right?” Witch inquired.
Smitten didn’t answer her immediately. He actually looked away from her for a moment, countenance revealing a bit of an internal war.
“That’s…I do know that,” he answered tightly, likely choking on his own emotion. “I…well frankly, it just doesn’t feel like I CAN do that.”
“Everything is either perfectly fine, or entirely wrong, and living in that grey space has never been a possibility for me,” he admitted. Witch furrowed her brows at his words. Yes, she knew herself well enough to tell that she tended towards the opposite problem–lingering on past hurt instead of letting go to see what could be–but even she could still see that this wasn’t good for someone, either. Pretending everything was fine by covering it up with empty, fluffy nothing–that couldn’t be healthy. After an agonizingly long pause which couldn’t have been more than a few moments, Witch finally spoke.
“Can I…give you a hug?” she asked, tone whispered. Smitten looked a bit surprised, then nodded in reply. Witch threw her arms around his midsection, making sure to be mindful about his chest region. She didn’t want to brush against anything. But despite her worries, Smitten brought her closer, cushioning her in downy fluff. She had to admit, it felt surreal. Her tail swished contentedly in response. She buried her face in his soft neck.
She could feel him shaking slightly. Was he crying, or about to? Witch rubbed his back comfortingly, hopefully signaling to him that it was ok to do so if he wished. His movements became a bit more rhythmic, but no sound could be heard as what was likely silent tears began to flow. Witch felt a small tear form in her own eye as she lived in this moment of sorrow with him.
Time seemed to stop as Witch reflected on her position right now. Usually, every one of her instincts would be screaming at her, telling her that she was being extremely foolish by putting herself in such an exposed position, tightly wrapped in the arms of another. But instead she felt…safe. And secure. Like nothing could hurt her, so long as he held her. Smitten had been so very transparent and open with her that day, both physically and emotionally. Maybe, just maybe, Witch could be ok with being vulnerable with him, too. A soft purr resonates from her throat, and she doesn’t make any attempts to stop it.
Finally, they pulled away. All good things must come to an end eventually, Witch supposed. She couldn’t help but feel a little chilled now that she wasn’t engulfed in his warm feathers. She looked him in the eyes; they were wet, proving that her suspicions were correct. Neither of them spoke. Witch panicked a bit internally, scrambling for something to say.
“Thank you,” she said. ‘Sorry’ hadn’t panned out last time, so maybe he would be more receptive to something a bit different. Much to Witch’s delight, her subtle plan worked, and he lit up instantly.
“No problem, my dearest lady! You can ask for a hug from me anytime whatsoever!” Smitten chirped. He seemed to have returned to his usual self in record time. Witch smiled.
“Hey, Smitten,” she started, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. He leaned in a bit, attentive to whatever she had to say next. “I...was wondering if you would be willing to come to my garden with me? I have quite a bit of work I need to do today, and…I wouldn’t mind the company.” Smitten grinned from ear to ear.
“Why, I would love to! That truly sounds delightful. It is both an honor and a pleasure to assist a fine woman such as yourself with her chores!” He started to gesture for her to lead the way, as is typically seen as proper, but hesitated, likely remembering Witch’s preference not to have her back to someone. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of appreciation for the consideration, albeit the obvious awkwardness.
Perhaps someday, she’ll feel secure enough to be the one to walk in front. Perhaps once, she would have firmly insisted that he was the one to go first, strongly against the idea of letting her back be turned on anyone. But today, right here, right now, Witch felt safe. She offered her hand to his, silently suggesting that they stroll side by side. A moment of surprise passed over Smitten’s face, quickly replaced with excitement as he gleefully accepted her offer and they headed down the road towards the garden, hand in hand.