Amber looked up from the mug hastily thrust atop of her desk. Upon seeing Eula, she couldn’t help but quickly forget her work. The corners of her mouth tweaked, smiling, despite a little confusion; Jean was usually the one who made coffee.
‘Eula! Ah – thank you.’ She held the cup with two hands and enjoyed the feeling of spreading warmth through the sides into her palms.
‘I frothed the milk on the top.’ Before Amber could thank her further, Eula elaborated.
‘It leaves less of it drinkable. The best vengeance is that which is acted upon subtly.’ Amber’s smile turned slightly wry because, of course her friend would embellish an act of kindness with her favourite vengeance façade.
‘That’s very frustrating,’ she agreed, not meaning a word of it. ‘Thank you.’
Eula flicked her hair and headed for the door. Once it closed, Amber glanced down at the work on her desk – lifted the mug to her lips and blew a little before taking a sip.
It was even better than Jean’s.
That was the first time Amber could recall, and it only got more notable from there. More frequent coffees, and then other things – hillichurls, already killed on the paths she had gone out to clear. Sometimes, her glider was polished when she went to prepare it in the morning: and that worried her a little because it took a while to prep, so it must’ve been done overnight. She hoped her ‘mystery hero’ wasn’t skimping on sleep.
There was no sign that Eula was behind it all – no explicit sign, that was. The glint in Eula’s eyes when she looked over to her these days spoke volumes. If she confronted her, she would probably get bashful: it’s an effective diversion tactic, to catch you off-guard with all of these favours. She could practically hear the ‘explanation’ already- and that was why Amber didn’t raise it. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful (though still maybe slightly confused). Every time she saw her, she gave her a knowing little smile, and Eula’s eyes were quickly averted.
Amber mentioned that she needed agnidus agate. It was once, chitchat over lunch, the two of them discussing weekend plans. Being herself, she’d thought no more of it, easily returning to her work that afternoon. But when Eula came into her office the following day, dropping a cluster of the gemstones upon her desk, Amber did begin to worry.
That wasn’t coffee, or a handful of hillicurls. That was a lot more. That was hours and hours of fighting, sweating and dodging and swerving, in a little heap upon her desk.
Amber looked up from the agate with parted lips, unsure what to say; worry pursed them quickly and pressed a wrinkle between her brows at the state which Eula was in. Her hair was messy, swept back with stray pieces that betrayed how hard she must’ve fought. Her skin was littered with little cuts and what looked to be- what Amber fiercely hoped were not- burns.
Damn that stupid pyro-regisvine. Damn Amber for her careless mouth, for not thinking before she spoke.
‘Eula,’ she began, eyes moving from one of hers to the other. ‘Eula, I-’ And she was interrupted fast.
‘And now you have no weekend plans!’ A determined, tired smile, with gritted teeth. Bags under her eyes. Her chest rose and fell; she appeared breathless. Had she ran to get here? How long ago did she stop fighting?
Amber stood up quickly, stepping around the side of her desk to reach the other girl. She felt she couldn’t get there fast enough as Eula continued.
‘Boredom is a form of pain in itself, though lesser recognised than others, and it-’ Amber was careful as she cupped Eula’s face, hands with a touch so light that they barely made contact with her skin. But they did; lightly, ever-so gently, thumbs that traced over her sweating cheek, ghosting over a cut here, a bruise there.
Amber’s eyes met Eula’s. They welled with confusion in such a way that they could’ve spilled over, though they held no tears.
‘Why?’ She asked. Her exasperation leaked through into her words, and she couldn’t help it. ‘Why would you hurt yourself like this? Please, please, be more careful…’ Her thumb stroked back down the plane of her cheek this time and something in Eula seemed to change. Soften. The determination in her eyes slowly ebbed away with the touch and it put her exhaustion into plain sight. Her mouth opened to reply but it was dry; a breath, hoarse attempt at speech, before she gulped softly. Her lips pressed together again.
Amber let go, and her eyes fell. Her hand fell, too: dropped down and slipped around Eula’s to take it gently, and she tugged. When she spoke this time, her voice was less urging.
‘Come on. Let me patch you up.’ Low. A murmur. How many times had Eula fought the regisvine, to obtain that much agate? Amber didn’t want to know the answer, because she knew it wouldn’t be a reassuring one. She would be the one to patch her wounds, make sure Eula was okay. It was the least she could do, and she had the feeling there would be reassurance in knowing that the other girl was alright.
‘I’m fine,’ Eula insisted – but nonetheless, she let herself be guided from the desk, over to the sofa. It was large, soft, a faded red colour. The window above it cast soft natural light down over it and dust danced in its beams as Eula was made to sit. She watched as Amber took first-aid equipment out, began to ready it on her desk, unwinding bandages and preparing antiseptics. She sat, and she watched, and she felt like a sheepish child who had only good intentions.
She hadn’t sat down in a little while. Her eyes dropped from Amber to her hands, fingernails which picked at each-other. There was a light pressure on her eyelids, a weight that dragged them down, little-by-little and so subtle that Eula hardly noticed they were closing.
When Amber turned back to tend to Eula, armed with bandages and antiseptic and medicinal creams, she stopped in her steps. The sight that greeted her was a softening one. Eula, sat with half-lidded eyes, her back slouched so far into the sofa that she wasn’t far from laying. Her head was hanging forwards as though she had fallen asleep right there: Amber wondered if, as consciousness further escaped her, her head would drop forwards and she would wake herself.
‘Eula,’ she murmured, to no avail – her voice was too soft for Eula to have heard her, even if she had been awake.
Amber glanced at the contents of her hands. She occupied the space beside Eula on the sofa, and she didn’t stir as the cushion beneath them dipped; she was dozing. When Amber set a hand lightly upon her shoulder, she started. It was almost alarming, the way that her eyes widened, tension quickly replacing the relaxation that she had allowed to seep through her.
She’d let her guard down. What was it that had stirred her?
And the tension ebbed away when she realised it was, in fact, a who, rather than a what. Amber was hushing Eula, though she wasn’t making any sound. Ah- she was: a soft, breathless panting which she ceased immediately, upon the realisation that she was the one breathing it. Her heart thumped quietly in her chest, and yet, the noise seemed to fill the whole of the room.
‘It’s okay,’ Amber murmured; the hand on her shoulder had never left. A comforting contact – a cool, light, reassuring touch that Eula fought the urge to lean into as Amber guided her body, bolt upright, back against the sofa. She melted easily into it, trusting. If she couldn’t trust Amber, then she couldn’t trust anybody.
Amber’s hand lifted and then, Eula did lean in- just barely- chasing the closeness, the comfort, the barely-there expression of something that could be maybe vaguely misinterpreted as-
And that, she immediately recognised- she cut herself off and leaned back properly, tensed all over again- that, was a ridiculous thought. A desperate thought. It was one that she ought to flatten because it was care, and nothing more. It was normal, to care for your friends.
Amber’s hand resumed its position. It was brief, but firmer; it drew her eyeline up to hers, and the tender smile that greeted her could’ve made Eula cry.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ each syllable almost sung Amber spoke so gently, ‘Just patching you up, like I said.’
Yes. Amber had said that. Eula felt herself in a hot flush; embarrassed, awkward, tense- very tense as she watched Amber working away. It felt like torment and bliss at once, so close to what Eula longed for. But the concentration in Amber’s expression, and the gentle but efficient way in which her hands worked; it was so far from it.
She cleaned and bandaged the cuts on her arms – the couple that littered her legs, though there were less of those. The cream stung on her burns, though Eula barely winced. The few times she did, Amber would find her hand and squeeze it slightly in a way that set her heart aflame; such a warm feeling that it nearly rid her of the pain, but agony enough to amplify it.
They worked in silence, the sun slowly withdrawing its cosy beams from the office window and leaving them instead bathed in a dim, golden light. Though Eula was exhausted, she was restless when Amber worked: no point in trying to sleep, however heavy her eyelids felt.
Eventually, when Eula’s limbs were clean and catered for, Amber moved to her face.
When her hand cupped Eula’s cheek, her eyes fluttered closed. She very nearly could’ve fallen asleep; the fact washed over her like the tide coming in. She forced her eyes open again when Amber’s thumb brushed her cheek – ghosted over a cut on her cheek, rather. She bit her lip as she examined it; and then she looked slowly over the rest of Eula’s face.
Her face was red. The baby hairs at her forehead clung to her skin, where sweat had dried. Amber’s hand felt cool as she brushed them loose, freeing them, guiding them back out of her face. Mud had hardened over her cheek in a single smear, thin and cracked, easily wiped off with the corner of a warm, damp towel.
She traced over the burn by the bridge of her nose in circles with cream on her fingertips, impossibly light; made the same little shape there, over and over, until it all sank in. Despite the pain, the gesture had some strange effect as Eula grew used to the feeling, like a lullaby; seconds, minutes – her eyes closed again, finally.
Amber shuffled closer, sides pressed together, leaning Eula properly against the back of the sofa. She was done, now. It had taken the afternoon, hours of the day- perhaps a job better delegated to someone who specialised in healthcare. But as a knight, Amber had the training, and she found that she’d been right: there was reassurance in having done it herself. There was reassurance in knowing that Eula was okay.
She stood to put away the equipment and unbeknownst to her, a pair of eyes opened.
The creams went in the upper left part, bandages taking up the section in the lid; all put away properly, and then the kit slipped back into its place in her desk. Then, the room fell into quiet.
She looked at the pile of agate, left on her desk. A piece felt heavy in her hands; she turned it over slowly. The embers of the fast-fading day reflected and refracted on its many jagged faces, and she sighed.
‘Do you like them?’
Amber was quick to turn around. Eula wasn’t asleep, then. She really ought to be. She set the agate back down again, but didn’t yet move back over to the sofa, instead watching her; the bags beneath her eyes, evidently heavy with the burden of exhaustion. Still, despite everything, now that she was looking- gazing at Eula’s eyes, trying hard to figure her out- she found something glowing within them. Their light was reminiscent of that of the sunlight at so late an hour. Stubborn, and rare; like hope.
‘I don’t understand why.’
Eula swallowed quietly. Her face was red, and she could feel its heat, but this time it didn’t scald or burn. Amber’s expression held no impatience, or frustration, as a part of her seemed to have expected. If there was one word Eula could’ve used to describe it, she would’ve said, openness. She.. genuinely wanted to know.
Could Eula tell her?
‘…Come here.’ Amber did. She settled again into the spot beside Eula, still warm, where she had been most of the day. The space between them was little but it was there and her eyes followed Eula’s, something about them changing. Wonder changed them: curiosity. Perhaps even embers can send sparks, and light new fires.
Slow, cautious- she felt every inch of distance that slipped away between them- Eula inched closer. Her head met Amber’s shoulder and immediately sparks flew. Realisation caught aflame and the Amber felt herself melting, body curving, arm lifting; encircling, enveloping, holding Eula close to her side and finally letting her rest.
Amber shuffled, rebalanced their combined weight, keeping the position comfortable for herself. She found that this was just as reassuring as patching Eula up.
But if she’d wanted nothing more than closeness, why go to such lengths? Amber’s fingers toyed slowly with Eula’s hair, teasing out loose tangles.
‘I’m sorry,’ she admitted, ‘I still don’t.. think I get it.’
She didn’t hear Eula’s sigh, but she felt the slow expansion and contraction of her body, curled up into her side like this. She couldn’t help but feel as though she was missing something obvious – letting Eula down somehow – but despite her searching, she couldn’t find what. She just couldn’t.
By this point, the room was almost entirely dark.
Eula’s head lifted and instinctively, Amber turned to look at her. They were close, she noted. Closer than they’d been when she’d treated her; barely separated, wrapped up together, though there still felt like a distance.
What distance?
The proximity sent any words of Eula’s spinning. She couldn’t gather them, face only growing redder, and her forehead creasing in the frustration of it all, an expression that made Amber’s shift into a similar one as she uttered gently,
‘I just.. don’t know how to explain it.’
Eula couldn’t help but feel as though she was letting Amber down somehow – but each explanation that came to her mind lost its way to her tongue, choked up in her throat or dissipating entirely. It was a frustration she could spiral into, but Amber’s touch at her forehead didn’t let her. It pressed to the dimple between her eyebrows and, like magic, unfolded her expression. It left Eula gazing up at her with pink cheeks, feeling more lost than ever.
‘Just rest. It’s okay.’
And Eula didn’t even think before she spoke now because the words found themselves, bubbling within her, spilling from her lips,
‘Kiss me. Please.’ Amber stared. Oh…
Oh.
For a third time that day, Amber cupped Eula’s cheek. When her thumb stroked her skin it traced no injury, but the softness of the skin itself; she didn’t examine her face but gazed into her eyes, and Eula felt so intensely seen that she could only gaze back. Her hand was trembling, barely, as she tilted her face upwards, and watched as her tired eyes fluttered closed. Her own eyes closed soon after.
A soft peck. A brush of lips. The distance between them died.
Another kiss; one second, or two. The embers sparked, and new flames burst to life from the darkness.
An evening that bled into night. Mumbled conversation. Kisses, traded like conversations in themselves.
‘You should’ve told me sooner.’
‘I’ve been telling you all this time.’