13–dancing on slight ice

The flat felt as if it housed the uncertainty, slightly cooler temperatures woven in the air around the flat as morning set, and the usual light tore through their curtain a bit later than usual as he dreaded leaving their bed. He feared he couldn't get away from this one, unfortunately. Fern pulled a baggy baby blue tee-shirt over his slightly slim frame, his long arms far from it and a bit chubby, he padded those steps with caution and his heart thumped hard against his chest, with his lightly brown-tinged hair, which brought out the color of his eyes, tumbling over his face freely. He shuddered as he brought his arms around himself at the sight of her practically shooting daggers at the practically lifeless shiny television screen, her knees pressed close to her chest and her pouty lips pursed, quite stiffly, together, as what looked to be a perpetual frown. was almost stiff on her face.

Fern stood there a moment too long, his brows creased as he curled his toes into the carpet, his plump bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and his stomach clenched as he gulped down dry air. Fern was unable to lead his feet further than where he was glued, his eyes darted around the flat and his throat dried, twisting his long fingers before himself as if a child. He even bit harder against his bottom lips as he searched for words and desperately he tried to swallow the lump forming against the back of his already drying throat–his eyes met the carpeted floor.

“Theo?” he let out finally, his voice dry as it slightly strapped against his already parched throat, eyes softening. He let out a quivering breath as he was gifted with a silence that almost made him shudder again, cowering within himself. “Can we talk, sweetheart?”

It was still wet outside, heavy raindrops falling urgently against the concrete and asphalt just outside their sliding door, soft drops cascading down the glass warily with the sky painted a miserably grumpy blue with no sign of the rain stopping any time soon and his stomach clenched tightly as he frowned at the sight of her sitting there as if he was not in the same room. He clung to the hem of his tee-shirt as he slowly bled out in agony, the knife being her rigid silence.

“Don't shut me out, sweetheart,'” Fern said, finally able to move from where he stood as he led his long legs to his wife and eventually

came to be on his knees right before her. Then Fern got to grasp her hands as he held them carefully to join their fingers together.

“But you do it,” she said, her eyes holding an almost pointed glare directed towards him, “and you're still at it.”

Fern's shoulders immediately fell as a heavy sigh escaped his lips. I'll never get this right.”

“You're not supposed to be right or wrong, babe,” Theo stated, her eyes softening with her long dreadlocks tight messily on top of her head and the brown in her eyes slightly glistening as they warned of the upcoming waterworks. He was at least relieved she was willing to open up to him, somewhat, but of course, his heart clenched at the sight of her creased nose and her bottom lip tugged between her teeth. Fern could see that Theo was struggling to keep herself from crying in front of him, he caught her even as she tossed her eyes to the floor and pressed her full lips together and his heart was already clenching tightly from within his chest

“I don't mean to,” Fern confessed, eyeing her with a frown pinned against his face stiffly, “I'm sorry, sweetheart.”

“Why then? How do you expect me to feel then?” Theo asked, wiping a tear with the back of her hand quickly. “I'm not blind. . .and it hurts when you keep me out.”

“You wouldn't leave me because of this, would you?” Fern furrowed his brows as his eyes sat on her face, his voice small as it almost broke behind his throat.

Her feet met the carpeted floor as she up, with her hand against her hip. “Is it so difficult to. . .talk to your wife about. . .whatever's eating you?”

He stiffened immediately at her words–it was. It was quite difficult that he could barely shove the thickening lump down his throat. Fern stood up as well and stepped towards Theo and each of his steps was taken with wary caution as his feet pressed against the soft carpet.

Fern's eyes wandered to her teary face. “This isn't as deep you think, sweetheart.”

There was this sharpness to her normally would-be soft eyes, and those daggers were sharp as they pointed at the target, and they lowered as she continued to glare at him, both of her hands on either side of her ample hips. Usually, the sight of her eyes and lips decorated by the way she carried her words was enticing, wickedly inviting, and he barely could keep away from her, but at the moment her face was hardened by a look of hurt.

Fern's hopes for settling things ebbed watching more tears

stream down her face.

He turned away, unable to find the appropriate words that were to perhaps lessen her ache and put her heart at ease because what he had left behind he could never let himself return to and not something he wanted his beautiful Theo to learn of and that part of himself had died along with hopes of ever being truly free from it completely, he had shut it closed for a reason and at this thought his shoulders slumped quite heavily in defeat. “Could we not. . .do this?”

Her hands remained on her hips as her plumpy lips quivered. “Why?”

Fern sighed. “There's nothing–”

“You're lying to me like you always do,” Theo said, turning away from him hiding the tears flooding down her face still. “Why?”

“Can we not fight?” Fern lowered his voice.

“I'm not fighting, I'm just hurt, ” Theo said, her voice slightly high-pitched as it almost cracked severely. “You're hurting me by treating me like I don't see it.”

“What do you want me to say?” Fern's nose flared as his voice slightly cracked. “I don't have. . .I don't know what you want me to do.”

“Chaichana, why's it so hard for you to just. . .tell me the truth?” Theo frowned further, wiping her wet cheek carefully. “I love you, why can't you see that?”

Hot tears crashed down his cheeks, to his dismay, and made him wrap his arms around himself as he stood just nearly two feet away from her, eyes focused on his toes and the tears warm as they met his feet, making him shuffle slightly involuntarily against the carpeted floor. “Something's bothering me, Theodora.”

The rain continued pouring, ignorant of what had just befallen the flat, floating freely as it wrung itself tightly around his throat, his chest threatening to close his chest as the ache ate away at what was left of his strength. Fern's beautiful ivory-toned face continued wet as he desperately fought to hide the ghosts within himself. “I should've bloody let us go to Thailand then, yeah?”

“I don't care about that,” Theo breathed, her face slightly discolored than usual.

“What do you care about then?” Fern let out.

Her head tilted. “You. . .us.”

“If you do. . .then you'll let this rest, yeah?” Fern said, sternly.

“Is it that bad?” Her eyes fell to the floor.

“You mean. . .as in I'd choose death over ever going there? Fuck, I would,” Fern said, eyes focused on hers.

“That's it then? Just like that?” Theo folded her arms as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I'm done,” he said, already leading himself to the steps leading up to their bedroom.

“Fern?”

He paused. “What?”

“I hate it when you push me away,” she said.

He only threw her an eye just over his shoulder. “I have a headache, I'm going to lie a bit.”

“Okay.” The sound of her tiny voice tore him from within but he didn't dare turn around.