Falling Through the Cracks
When Olivia opened her eyes again, she could make out the flurry of large flakes of snow caught in the bitter breeze silently piling up against the outside window frame, collecting in large clumps against the sill. The night, black as soot behind the thin glass, surrounded the ghostly, transparent reflection of her face in the glass as if she was an apparition or a statue carved from ice.
“Liv, it’s okay, you fell asleep.” She turned suddenly, to see Lincoln sitting stiffly beside her. There was a large gap between them, a chasm compared to their usual close proximity, if she was a wild animal and Lincoln was wary of getting bitten, his lips twisting into the quickest of smiles before it fell away and his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Turning back to glance at the window that rattled against the howling wind and branches scratching their claws against the glass outside, Olivia could've sworn the window was double glazed before and the walls a dark plum with large black and white photos of the city in silver frames. Instead, they were thin wooden panels where the wind whistled through the gaps and made gooseflesh infect her skin and the cold wrap around her bones like a python. Even Lincoln’s face, that she knew almost better than her own reflection, had an echo of an unfamiliarity that made her uneasy. His hair was slightly longer and more disheveled than it should be, and four-day old stubble dotted his jaw and neck. Pink blotches dotted his cheeks as if his skin had been recently burned or grazed, and the translucent cerulean blue of his eyes were shaded with flecks and shadows of granite. Their gaze assured her that there wasn't anything to fear, but the pink tinged corners that barely clung onto teardrops that threatened to spill from the red rims betrayed them. "What's wrong? You okay?"
Yeah, nothing. I -" she sighed through chattering teeth, shivering again despite being aware of being fully clothed under the soft feel of a sheepskin blanket that was the bottom layer of multiple comforters that covered her body from her chest to her feet. "How did we get here?"
A small bitter huff escaped Lincoln’s mouth, coating his warm breath with frozen particles that hung in the air between them before dissipating like a cloud after a burst of rain.
He blinked again, still unsure if she meant it literally or figuratively, and when she seemed as genuinely as confused as he was. "We drove up with Astrid and Charlie. You don't remember? You sure you’re feeling alright?"
"I guess, I think so." Olivia replied, somewhere between the truth and a lie. Of course she remembered they’d all driven to the café but this didn't seem the same place, and she didn't remember Lincoln and Charlie getting back from speaking with the Smiths. She blew her warm breath into her frozen hands, futilely rubbing them together. "Apart from being freezing cold."
Lincoln fidgeted in his position, trying to keep warm while turning to face her, the spring mattress creaking with his efforts. "Me too - that blizzard out there is literally zero degrees and there's only a thin wall between us and it, until it passes."
"So why are you over there? Come over here." Olivia demanded as the realization that were in a bed dawned on her, her eyebrows flickering expectedly when he hesitated. “C’mon, we’ll be warmer if we share each other’s body heat.”
Blinking rapidly as if confused, he relented at the sensible suggestion and shuffled closer so their thighs were touching, and almost flinched at the warmth of her body against his. It felt like a lifetime since he’d been this physically close to someone in bed, and it stirred the realization of how much he missed laying in someone’s arms, even if this was just for platonic, practical reasons and they were still completely clothed. The familiar subtle scent of Olivia’s color shampoo wafted into his nose as she nestled her head against his knitted sweater and he sighed into her hair, brushing her grown-out auburn bangs out of her eyes while his chin rested on her crown.
“It didn’t work.” She whined impatiently, clinging onto his body like she was afraid she’d be consumed by the cold if she let go. Lincoln pulled the blankets up, cocooning them inside before squeezing his arms under the layers to rub warmth into her back and arm that she’d wrapped around his chest and tucked it into his sweater. Her thigh rested over his as their legs entwined, her foot furiously caressing his shin through the stiff fabric of his jeans and her thick socks that she could have sparked a static charge if they were acrylic rather than woolen.
“Give it a moment,” Lincoln replied, shaking his head and unable to stifle a smile at her annoyance at being cold because he knew how much she hated it and would search for warmth wherever she could, “try to think of hot things, maybe that’ll help.”
“Hot things?” Olivia said, her voice unconvinced through chattering teeth and her body shaking against his in the bitter cold.
“Mmm-hmm, like a tropical beach with the ocean gently lapping against the warm sand under your feet,” he chuckled softly into her hair, “or those steaming hot bubble baths you like and that Mexican restaurant we went to, remember you laughed at me because the food was so spicy it made my face sweat and you said I looked redder than the walls at HQ.”
She frowned and twisted in his arms to look up at him and meet his gaze, but he’d closed his eyes and his long lashes cast dark shadows under his eyes and upper cheeks. “I don't remember doing that.”
“Doesn’t matter. The point is, thinking you’re warm is worth a try if it tricks you into thinking you aren’t cold. ”
“No problem,” Lincoln whispered, pausing as his blue eyes flickered open again to see Olivia’s hazel eyes hold his gaze in the dim light, “you’re welcome.”
The both froze, trapped under the avalanche of each other’s stare. The weight the unknown dissolved in their breath that mingled together in rapid puffs of air between them. He broke the silence and looked away, hoping to hide the tears that were uncontrollably brimming at the corner of his eyes and threatened to spill out, and to put distance between their mouths that were dangerously close to each other. “You feel warmer now?”
“I’m thinking of the hottest thing I know of, and I’m still really cold,” Olivia answered, her cool fingertips tracing the rough edge of his jaw to bring his mouth closer to hers again, his pulse buzzing with anticipation under her touch, “I’m thinking about you and me together and I still can’t warm up –”
Lincoln interrupted her, his voice a warning, although he knew it was useless because it was for himself and not her. He was teetering on the edge of a precipice, clawing on by one white-knuckled finger, and one slip, or push from Olivia and he’d be falling, regardless of how much he tried to cling on.
“Y’know, they say the most effective way to regenerate body heat is to be naked into a sleeping bag with somebody else who is naked.” She hinted, smiling and snuggling closer as Lincoln’s posture stiffened in response. “I know this isn’t a sleeping bag, but I wouldn’t mind compromising if you don’t.”
