"Red" A Valentine's Day Story (M, Cold, Original)

[SleepingPhlox]

The title says a Valentine's Day story but, more accurately, this post is the first part of the story. 

It's my nameless couple again, and they're having a very memorable Valentine's Day.  I know that characters without a ton of description aren't everyone's cup of tea, but I write these guys like this so that people can project whatever they want onto them, without being constrained by my own personal tastes (which definitely aren't everyone's cup of tea ) I like projecting my own images when I'm reading stories, personally. I like that I know who these characters are to me but they could be entirely different people to someone else who is reading this!

So, I hope folks get some enjoyment out of this!

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"Red" - Part 1

I kinda feel like maybe I shouldn't be getting ready right now.

I mean, I am getting ready, I am getting ready like I have never gotten ready before. We are going to a thing that calls itself a “charity event”, specifically the “Giving Hearts 3^rd Annual Red Valentines Day Charity Event”, and I'm guessing a hell of a lot of people going to this thing are spending the day in salons making sure they look their best. It's definitely something that could be described using the word “fancy”. I am going to do whatever it takes to make sure I look presentable. On the other hand...

I hear him sneeze from somewhere down the hallway.

On the other hand, there's that.

“Bless you!” I call out over my shoulder, toward the open door, aiming my words vaguely in his direction. In response, he pops his head into the doorway. The rest of him soon follows, and I can see that he's dressed, and mostly ready, cutting a fine figure in a black suit with a deep crimson shirt. My own dress is a slightly more vibrant red, dotted with tiny rhinestones all over – not so much that it looks gaudy, just enough to give it a little shimmer. Red is not just the theme, it's the dress code. As in, you show up wearing head to toe blue, you ain't getting in. Like I said, this is the kind of thing that you'd call fancy. But ... our clothes aren't the only thing that's red.

My gaze is drawn to the glaringly crimson thing in the middle of his face. I don't mean to stare, but it's right there, and I'm not judging him, I'm sympathising. I feel guilty for “dragging him out” while he's in the grips of what has sounded like a thoroughly miserable cold - although in fairness, I've suggested simply not going to this thing for his sake, and he's shot me down every single time. And he was the one who wanted to buy the tickets to this thing so bad, even when I promised him I'd be just as happy eating ice cream cones down on the beach for Valentine's Day. I'd be happy eating pizza on the couch in our pyjamas as long as we're together. So as much as this isn't on me, I still feel like it's on me, and if this all goes wrong it's all going to be on my head. Even now that I'm finally in a good relationship for a change, the not-so-good ones have left an indelible mark on my psyche. Long story.

“Wow, you look abazi'g,” he grins at me from the doorway.

I smile at the compliment, but I can't manage to fully accept it when there's more important things to worry about.

“And you look like hell, and sound like it too. Okay...you actually look really nice in that suit, but I can tell you feel like shit.”

“Eh, I don't look that bad. I even used some of your fancy eye cream under my eyes to perk them up.” He narrows his eyes playfully. “You're not saying that that fancy stuff you smear all over your face doesn't work, are you?”

“Okay, but your nose...that thing looks painful, sweetheart.” I can't help but wince as my gaze is drawn to it again.

“Barely noticeable.” He waves a dismissive hand.

“Oh, honey, it's noticeable. If you went outside and stood on the corner, traffic would stop and wait for green.”

“Well, then, I'm just adhering to the theme of red, red, and more red extra, super good.”

“I'm just saying-”

He interrupts by saying “I'm on theme...” in an overdramatic whisper, and doing jazz hands at me as he backs out through the doorway. I don't even attempt to reply to that. There is no argument on this earth that is effective against jazz hands.

I do, however, give him the courtesy of saying “Bless you” when a resounding “HyehhhSHHOOO!” erupts from the hallway. Based on how harsh it sounded I can just tell that it was a stop-him-in-his-tracks, bend him over at the waist kind of deal. He doesn't immediately say thank you, but I can hear him blowing his nose so hard I swear I'm surprised it doesn't rattle the windows, and from the sound of it, it was urgent enough to take precedence over polite niceties.

I put the finishing touches on my hair and stand up to grab my purse from the bed. There's just about enough room for me to cram two travel packs of tissues in with the rest of my stuff. Hopefully, that's enough to last him for the evening. Or however long he manages to last into the evening. I'm not holding out hope he'll last that long at all. Or, more accurately, I'm hoping he doesn't last long. I'm hoping he gives up like half an hour into it, so I can bring him home and tuck him into bed where he belongs.

I've tried everything to let him know that I was okay with simply not going to this “event”. I told him I'd pay him back for the tickets. I told him that I absolutely love cozy nights in and doing our own thing would still be romantic and fun. I told him that there was every chance there would a 4^th Annual Red Giving Whatever Thingy. I told him that I didn't want him to push himself and suffer just to bring me to this thing, that he doesn't need flashy gestures to prove his love for me – the everyday little things are proof enough for me. Absolutely nothing worked.

Maybe I should have tried breaking out the jazz hands to win the argument. Too late now, though. You can't counter jazz hands with jazz hands...it's like saying “I'm right times infinity plus infinity” to win back against someone saying “I'm right times infinity”. Everyone knows it's super weak and you're just embarrassing yourself.

I make my way toward the front door. The door is lined on either side by frosted glass, and there's a certain point in the afternoon when the sun is positioned just right to shine through the glass and make little rectangles of light on the entryway floor. He's standing in one of those streams of light, and the way the sun illuminates him from behind makes him look like the heaven-sent angel he is. It also illuminates the silvery layer underneath his nose, making it very prominent and noticeable. But even with that, he still looks like a damn angel. My heart skips a beat.

“Hihhhh...YEHHHshooo!” Suddenly his figure isn't the only thing backlit by the light from the window and I'm simultaneously impressed and alarmed by the dancing, glittering cloud that just erupted from him.

“You know, it's not too late to decide-”

He smiles at me. “Sweetie. Darling. I know you're set on believing that I'm doing this just because I think you want it, but this is important for me. I want this night to happen and I want it to be really good because I-...well, I just want it, okay?”

I sigh. “Okay. If you're sure.”

“Great. So that means you'll finally get off my damn case, woman?” he teases. I can't help but smile. If his playful spirit is still intact, he can't be feeling too horrendous.

“Absolutely not,” I smile at him as I sashay in a ridiculously exaggerated way toward the door, giving his butt a gentle little smack as soon as I'm close enough. “I'm going to be fussing over you all damn night, and there's not a single thing you can do about it. See, I love you, so caring about your well being kinda comes with the territory.”

He returns the favour by smacking my butt as soon as I'm out the door. Even though I was expecting some sort of retaliation, it still makes me yelp.

The sun hangs low in the sky, and the day is cool but not uncomfortably so. I totter toward the driveway – my heels aren't even that high, but I'm so unused to heels at all – but I've only taken three steps before he notices my slight difficulty and rushes to offer his arm.

I start to say “I'm fine” as a reflex, but he cuts me off at my intake of breath, before I can even utter a single sound.

“I love you, so caring about your well being kinda comes with the territory,” he says with a warm smile.

“Oh, using my own words against me? That's fighting dirty,” I can't help but joke back. I'm in love with him. I love being in love with him. I love the feeling of being in love. I've just been guarded for so long that it's a little hard to admit it to myself. Sometimes a joke is easier.

I'm trying my best to get better at being comfortable with vulnerable emotions. I just hope he can be patient with me while I do.

I reach for his hand as we make our way down our driveway to the sidewalk in front of our house. Yes, I've seen where that hand has been during the worst and messiest moments of his cold, but I don't care. He shoots me a quick “are you sure” look, but I smile at him, and he allows me to take my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. I can feel the warmth of his skin as I give his hand a squeeze – it must be taking more out of him to be up and about than he's letting on. His hands also feel softer than usual...he's helped himself to more than my eye cream, hasn't he? As we reach the sidewalk, a car slides in between the other parked cars and pulls up next to us.

“See, told you that nose of yours will stop traffic,” I can't resist but quip. He narrows his eyes at me in an exaggerated pout.

“Ha, ha. Very funny” he returns drily.

The car is actually our taxi, which we pre-booked way back when we assumed we'd both want to have a few drinks tonight. Based on his current condition, I doubt he'll be much in the mood for drinking, but I'm sure it will help that he doesn't have to worry about driving home while miserable, either. And, wouldn't you know it, the taxi is red. That's just a massive coincidence, but boy oh boy are we going to be so on theme tonight!

He slides into the backseat first, moves all the way ove to make room for me. I see him twisting around to feel his pocket as I slide in. For a moment, I think perhaps he's forgotten his keys and I'm about to ask him if he needs me to run inside and get them (or, in these shoes, totter inside and get them) but before I can get the words out...

“HyahhhSHOOO!”

The tissue is produced from his pocket moments too late, and he folds it around his nose instead and gives a blow that sounds...well, let me put it this way, if it wasn't obvious that he had a streaming cold from his appearance alone, that blow would have put any doubt to rest. I can see the taxi driver eying us in his rear view mirror, but his face doesn't betray any annoyance. I wouldn't blame him if he was annoyed, who wants to be cooped up in a small space with a veritable waterfall of germs when they're just trying to do their job. But he speaks up and says “We good to go?” in a perfectly friendly, polite tone.

And with that, we're pulling away from the curb, on our way. He sighs and rests his head on the window as the scenery slowly rolls past.

The “Giving Hearts 3^rd Annual Red Valentines Day Charity Event” awaits...

To be continued...

[starpollen]

Looking forward to where this is going! 😊

[Reader]

The banter is swoon-worthy! Such a lovely part! Looking forward to the next part ~ 

[dwaekki]

I'm excited for this!! 

[RipleyToo]

I’d love to see more 🥰 

[Catsgotyourtounge]

Looking forward to next entry

[Guessagain]

Ooh!! I'm loving this!!! Formal wear plus colds are a whole mood! The descriptions are lovely and I'm loving how important this event seems to be for him. *happily watches you load my plate with formal wear, colds, charity gala obligations and beautiful sneezes* Ahh finally some good #%#@%*& food! 

[sneezingfun894]

Loving this 

[Lady Blessington]

MORE PLEASE I LOVE ITTTTTT ❤️💋🌹💃❗️🥀🍓💄