about her {niam!blitz}

[Deleted]

duncan bowers-fox

There was a lot that I did not know about Tweed.

I did not know her last name or her birthday or the names of her siblings (or even if they existed). I did not know her favorite color or holiday or day of the week, and this bothered me to the extent in which it did because these things—these trivial things were real indicators of a person’s heart, and upon knowledge of these simple things, one could tell much more than what meets the eye.

No, I did not know everything there was to know about Tweed.

But I knew a lot about her heart, indeed.

I knew that a behind a sarcastic word there was a heart made of pure gold, and this would show in her eyes when the morning light hit them just so, flickers of foreshadowing lit within them. I knew that the beating of her heart was a rhythm unchanged by my own fear or sorrow, and throughout the last several months it had never strayed from its original tune, and its consistency was one I craved to pattern my own wavering heart after. She was the solid foundation of a home that could not be moved, not by winds or rains or flooding tides, and I longed for nothing more than for her heart to anchor under the floorboards under which our feet creaked with heavy steps.

And that’s what we were, Cody and I.

We were weights of guilt and regret only pulling down the other, yet a second was never spent in apology, for I had learned that the words “I’m sorry” carry as much weight as a feather in the wind, and furthermore, that the phrase was only a waste of breath, for Cody never wanted to hear it.

But our hearts still beat, and Tweed’s did too, only hers was a tune much more pleasant, and this song was one I marked as a knowledge of her.

I knew that I loved Tweed, with her body pressed to mine as we watched the flame flicker in the hearth with the autumn breeze as only background noise. But I did not know her last name or favorite color or birthday, or if she loved me too.

I hadn’t even asked the first questions yet.

“Tweed?”

[semper]

tweed

Tucked within a strong and comforting embrace, Tweed knew she was safe. A solid roof was over her head and sturdy walls surrounded on all sides, and they were quite a contrast from the warehouse’s holey and creaking structure. No chains rattled above, no water dripped steadily, no smells of musky mold; only burning, crackling pine logs and Duncan’s familiar earthy scent filled her nose, spreading a warmth throughout her body that nothing else could provide. Enveloped in this contentment, she felt herself becoming drowsy, and so she hid her hazel eyes behind closed lids and let herself sink into the soft couch. Her fingers remained intertwined with his on the hand whose arm draped over her, and her thumb continued to lightly stroke his skin, which was merely a habit she had picked up over the past few weeks.

Up until a few months ago (or had it been longer? The days had started to mesh together so much that she could hardly recall when they first met, or even what she had been doing before Duncan came along) the redhead had been sticking out on her own on the streets and she had preferred it that way. Not becoming close to anyone would make everything easier: no one else to watch out for, no hunting for extra food or water or clothing, and no bickering with her plans. But she was lonely; cold nights spent by herself, curled up in a forgotten alley with only her holey blanket for warmth, were terribly taxing on her emotions. In those times of shivering and hiding her face from no one, Tweed’s mind would wander back to her mother, whose memories alone possessed a particular warmth that was both good and made her heart ache. Though the images were vague, she could still feel how lovingly her mother looked upon her and her father, and, despite how young the redhead had been, she could easily remember how tenderly she and her father looked upon her mother.

But her father died, and later, heartbreak claimed her mother.

Tweed knew how sweet love could be, how deeply one can succumb to it, and the sudden absence of it was destructive and deadly. She knew she had a decent fear of love only because of her mother’s death, and despite that, Tweed subconsciously found herself becoming closer, and closer, and closer to Duncan Bowers-Fox, and already she knew she wouldn’t leave him. Duncan had provided a sense of relief for those freezing nights alone and had even invited her into his home, which she had not once turned down; she had seen him through tragedy and held his hand tightly when the ice was too thin to stand on and laughed with him until her stomach hurt, and no matter the pain they endured, she steadily found that merely his presence was starting to give her the same peaceful warmth that originally could only be found in her memories.

And whenever she thought about it, she realized she had not once been alone ever since meeting him.

She liked the way his warm breath tickled her ear whenever they laid down on the couch, how his massive body encased her from behind, how she could feel every little movement he made, and how she knew that, for once since her mother’s death, she was important to someone.

Tweed nuzzled the back of Duncan’s hand and felt him take a breath before hearing her name being uttered in that very smooth and homey baritone voice. Still rather drowsy, she only replied on a small exhale. “Mm?”

table by mylee <33

[Deleted]

duncan bowers-fox

The letters of her name flowed through my veins, mingled with my very being. Her name felt natural, correct, welcoming even, as they fell off my tongue, and her warm response to my voice only encouraged this. She had been a fire inside my chilled bones, and the spark she had set ablaze to the floors of our home was one I longed to keep around for more than a temporary twenty-four hours. When we curled up under the blankets at the rise of the moon a feeling of uneasiness always accompanied, for I never knew if the same sight would meet my eyes in early morning.

Yet she had never left under the guise of temporality, and with each new morning I told myself that I trusted her more.

But that’s where my own heart convinced me to fall victim to my own thoughts, for I trusted Tweed just as much the day we met as I did now. That’s what Owen had called our downfall, we trusted too easily, believed that the world spun around the good morals of others.

Tweed had been a bit rougher then, her eyes always open and muscles tensed, but now with her back pressed to my chest, I could feel each smooth, long breath she took, and in turned my own body went limp around hers, and it seemed as though the winter wind could only affect the world that surrounded us, never touching either beating heart.

But it’s the small acknowledgement that she lets drift into the air that catches my mind again, and it’s then that I realize the question that’s lingering in the back of my mind may not have an answer that I’m keen on hearing.

Yet the temporality of an unspoken agreement shot fear through my veins at the thought of losing her to the morning sun, and so I let the question come out slurred and quickly, a different tone than her name was spoken into the air only moments ago. “Tweed, do you want to stay here like—like permanently?”

However, if she said no, I’d probably chase her heels to the ends of the earth, for these four walls no longer defined home, for home was only her. Home was her smile, the run of my fingers through her hair, the feeling of her thumb smoothing the back of my hand. Home was when our hearts beat at a rhythm matched; home was everything about her.

[semper]

tweed

In the crackling quiet that followed her reply, Tweed nearly fell asleep. She found it strange how comfortable one could be with another person, entrusting so much to them in a time of unconsciousness; Duncan was so much bigger and stronger than her that, in the very beginning, she hardly trusted him. He could overpower anyone and she was extremely protective of her few possessions, though soon after, she realized he was nothing but an over-sized pup.

But then she labeled him as a thief, and the only thing he had stolen was her heart. However, it was his for the keeping.

She didn’t think it was possible for her to rely on simply someone’s presence alone. Duncan didn’t have to say anything and Tweed was content to just rest against him since his embrace spoke far louder than words. Uncertainty gathered whenever she attempted to pinpoint what exactly it was that made her feel so at ease with him: the way he intertwined their fingers when they held hands, when they first started to inch closer together during cold nights in alley ways, how he never seemed to frown, how he always became so absorbed in his journals when writing, or even how she felt so small and safe tucked in his gangly arms.

Gently Tweed pressed the back of his hand to her lips, and stopped as soon as she heard his question. A home? A genuine home? Hazel eyes opened to see a hazy sideways fireplace and an overwhelmingly fuzzy feeling swelled inside. That would mean no more freezing nights, no more holey blankets, no more scrounging, no more mildew, no more pavement beds, no more anger—

A small smile drew her lips upward. “Yes,” she answered quietly, no more than a muffled mumble. “Yes, I’d love that very much.”

table by mylee <33

[Deleted]

duncan bowers-fox

I had written about Tweed the first night I had met her, but I hadn’t looked back at it since. There were multiple reasons for this, but the first happened to be the strongest: I promised myself that I wouldn’t do so until she was either gone for good or here to stay (I had always hoped it’d be the latter), and now here we were.

I had been holding the scrap of paper tightly in the palm of my hand, the same which was pressed against her lips and felt the emotion of her answer, the joy and almost unbelieving thought of something permanent, but I drew it away, uncurling my fingers until there was nothing left hidden but the words scrawled messily upon it. At first glance it didn’t look like much, a bakery receipt with ink scratched upon the back; words that could be anything—a grocery list, a note to a friend, the definition of a love that had before been undefined.

“This is for you.”

-journal entry #3b, start time 6:42 on the evening of January 28th

I met a girl today. A girl with the hair brighter than the sun set ablaze; a girl with freckles as innumerable as the stars. Her words were sharp, like the bricks pressed against our backs, but there was something hidden behind them. There was something soft about her, like the sun set against a faded horizon. She’s small, but she speaks as if she’s got the most power in the world. I think she’s lost something too, but I’m sure we’ll find it. She said her name is Tweed, and indeed the letters of her name spin tightly around her hardened heart, but I’m sure all softens with time (she’s pretty neat, even though she scares me a little bit, but then again, I’m sure her opinion of me isn’t necessarily positive).

[semper]

tweed

A smile remained on Tweed’s face even as he retracted his hand. The thought of having an actual, warm home to return to everyday thrilled her; the warehouse had been alright, but that had to be taken with a grain of salt. Every fogged window had been broken, holes in the roof allowed steady streams of rainwater to fall inside, and jagged debris littered the floor. Nothing more than four walls with a holey roof, but none of that mattered anymore. Duncan had granted her refuge with him, her only friend, and there was no way she would have turned that down for the world.

His fingers uncurled to reveal a crumpled piece of paper and her hazel eyes watched it carefully until he indicated that it was for her. ”Me?” She murmured, reaching up and taking it. On one side there were stenciled letters and numbers and the word ‘Bakery’, nothing interesting, so she turned it over and saw a very familiar scrawling font that only Duncan could produce.

Tweed wasn’t the best at reading and so she kept silent as she went word to word, sounding them out in her head. The sentences stirred up memories of the first time she met Duncan on that very frigid day: how she had subconsciously been edging closer to him that night in the alley in order to keep warm, and how he hadn’t scooted away at all. However, her eyes lingered on a specific line that struck her: ‘I think she’s lost something too, but I’m sure we’ll find it.’ A pain ached in her chest but she shoved it down; he didn’t know about that yet, and she wasn’t ready to tell him.

A small, rather forced laugh escaped her in a wispy breath. ”You thought I was scary?” Tweed flicked his hand playfully. ”You’re pretty neat too.”

table by mylee <33

[Deleted]

duncan bowers-fox

The flicker of her eyes over the wrinkled receipt rekindled sparks of memory that led me back to the first winter night we spent in the back alley together. It had been as cold as this winter morning, yet our fingers were not intertwined, and our hearts did not seem to beat in time.

“You thought I was scary?”

Her words bring me back to the reality of the current time, and I suddenly became aware of my face tucked into the crook of her neck. A chuckle makes itself known, though I attempt to muffle it into the fabric of her shirt. “Well, Tweed, you were pretty intimidating—all four foot of you.” I run my hand through the few strands of red hair that have separated themselves from her braid, gently twisting them around my finger until they spring free and release.

But this had been the truth, for even when I towered over a foot above her, that first night it seemed that she had control over the whole world and everyone in it. Sometimes you do meet people of that nature, those who just seem to know their place, but generally, they don’t come in the form of a seventeen year old girl who’s closer to the ground than I’ll ever be.

“You still scare me a little bit, especially when you’re angry.”

Yet she couldn’t take this seriously, for each word had come out accompanied by a childlike giggle, making anything I said void of reason. And so I quiet down and roll her over to face me, watching her hazel eyes flicker in the low light of early morning and waiting for the punch to the shoulder that’s sure to come.

[semper]

tweed

She could feel him fiddling with her hair and the gentle tugs and twirls were calming. Tweed allowed her eyes to close and the smile remained on her face, broadening when he murmured close to her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin. A laugh sounded from the redhead. ”I’m not that short.” Though, truthfully, she had always been shorter than her peers; as a young child she had been looking up to others, and even nowadays she was glaring up at people. Particularly with Duncan, he was as tall as the sky itself, but craning her head back was always rewarding. Looking up into his vibrant eyes was similar to seeing two dazzling stars lighting up the night sky that had always been her shelter on the street. Both were comforting and, to her, were considered home.

And when he pulled her around, she saw those two stars looking directly at her. She lifted her gaze as she usually did and let her gaze follow along the contours of his face: every crease, every bump, every soft edge. More so than the stars, Duncan was her home now. It didn’t matter what roof stood over their head because she was completely at ease whenever he was nearby. She didn’t need the stars anymore. Tweed brought her hand up and gently ran her fingertips along his jawline, gaze dropping to his pale lips, and she pressed her mouth against his.

For years there had been an odd yearning for the lanky boy that kept her nearly glued to his side despite the extra effort it took to keep them both safe and fed. However, he provided much needed company; Tweed still didn’t think that Duncan had properly grown into his lengthy legs and it amused her to no end watching him trip over seemingly nothing. Slowly and steadily she had outgrown the assumptions she had of him in the beginning, and instead found a boy that she was suddenly very comfortable with, even if he did find her scary when angered. Her eyes closed and she pressed harder against him, fueled by pent-up passion and a burning desire to finally be able to submit wholly to a trustworthy person.

table by mylee <33

[Deleted]

duncan bowers-fox

I loved her.

And somewhere between my beating heart and scrambled mind I realized this in the midst of her actions. Hands that had been previously entwined in her hair for the sake of passing the time suddenly found new purpose, and quickly they entangled themselves among the strands even further, as if they were desperate to hold something they were afraid of losing, and indeed I was afraid of losing her.

In the same way I lost Owen just over a year ago.

In the same way I was quickly losing Cody with each passing day.

I simply couldn’t let her slip in the same way.

Time seems to slow down on the two extremes of emotion, for when Owen’s final breath had been taken the world seemed that it refused to pass another second, and now again the feeling’s the same, only this time, I don’t want it to pass.

This was comfort and this was home, and this was all I would need.

So even after we break apart I hold her close, refusing to remove my hands from her hair as I press my head into the crook of her neck, because unlike these four walls, she is home, and home is all I would ever need.

“Tweed, I—“ But I can’t go any further with the thought, for what I’ve loved before is gone and to lose another thing of this nature would be a tragedy I couldn’t overcome, so instead I halt my words and instead nuzzle further into her shoulder, feeling small in contrast to a thought so big.

No, I didn’t know everything there was to know about Tweed, and maybe it wasn’t my right to, but there was one more question that longed to be asked.

“Tweed, you won’t leave, will you?”

She couldn't leave, if simply for the fact that I loved her. But then again, I suppose in the end, that doesn't mean a thing if a fleeting mind and a dying wish happen to get in the way. 

[semper]

tweed

She was wrapped in a consuming passion that took her by force, losing herself completely in Duncan with his embrace and touch. Tweed let her hand snake around the back of his neck to pull herself toward him, closing any and all distance between them. She wanted all of him, here and now, and for the first time in years, she felt the void in her chest starting to fill.

Losing her mother had been a devastating blow and set the solid foundation for the walls guarding her emotions. Since then, Tweed hadn’t opened up to anyone but the tall boy with the fluffy hair and stack of ragged journals. It had been a slow process; warming up to Duncan enough to share stories required many nights huddled together to fight off the cold, working seamlessly together to acquire food and clothing, and the fulfillment of hopes that he’d still be there in the morning when she awoke despite the nasty jabs she’d taken at him during the daytime for not sticking strictly to her plan.

He had delivered, and he had proven himself to her many times, so she had fallen hard for the one who hadn’t given up on her.

Tweed sucked in a breath and buried herself in him as he nuzzled her neck. The aroma of muddy earth, wood, and moss hit her all at once, reminding her of the times she had begun to look at him more than just a survival partner. Sleeping next to each other had become something she looked forward too, and his scent comforted her since the beginning; nights had become far less lonely and threatening. In his arms, she was safe, and even tucked with him on the couch, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

”Not a chance,” she murmured, closing her eyes and curling up into him, thumb gently stroking the side of his neck. A genuine, light smile pulled the corners of her mouth upward as she hugged him close. ”You’re all I have and I love you.”

table by mylee <33

[Deleted]

duncan bowers-fox

“I won’t leave you” was a promise that had been broken one time too many.

Only that one time, it had been worded in a different way.

“I’ll see you soon, Duncan.”

Needless to say, I didn’t think my brother had meant returning to me in a coffin as a way of fulfilling that promise.

But it’s while I’m thinking over the commitment she’s just made that I hear the second words she speaks, and they catch me off guard and stop every train of thought that’s currently running through my mind.

“You’re all I have and I love you.”

I pity her.

Because I’ve got nothing to give, only a broken heart and tired mind left to speak for my soul, and I pity the one who finds something of worth among the wreckage. There’s a hitch in my breath as I bite my lip, lifting my head from her shoulder to meet her gaze, watching for any signs of regret or insincerity.

But I see nothing in her eyes but tenderness, and that worries me even more. It’s one thing for me to be in love with her, for she has a mind of the sharpest caliber and the common sense to accentuate it perfectly, but when my mind turns to my own attributes, I find none.

I’m a death sentence, according to Cody, and I’m a burden according to myself.

I cannot infect her veins with my poison.

Yet what have I been doing for the last year since I placed myself beside her in that chilly, damp alley?

(I’m so sorry.)

But I’d be six feet under alongside Owen if it weren’t for her, and I don’t know if that option would’ve been better off. However, as my eyes meet her own I decide that if I had to live for one reason, if I could only see one thing for the rest of my life, it would be her, because even if I didn’t know everything about her, I knew enough to realize that she was beautiful, and despite how much it might damage the both of us, I loved her too.

-journal entry #12 start time 8:37 on the morning of December 26th

“I love you, Tweed.”