K I L L Y O U R D A R L I N G S

iii. ghosts of the past
chapter three.

1991.

      NOVALEIGH FOUND SOMETHING ODDLY COMFORTING IN THE SOLITUDE OF CELEBRATING THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS ON HER OWN. Trembling hands from the crisp air of winter that raged outside curved around a scalding hot mug of freshly brewed coffee, worn notebooks and barely sharpened pencils scattered across her desk with hastily scribbled designs upon paper, and a delicately woven sweater that once belonged to her father hanging loosely from her goosebump coated body. And even though the loneliness burned brighter than the twinkling lights gleaming from outside her window, and the walls of her house she felt trapped within seemed bleak despite the festive decor she was forced to hang up — she was home. Whatever shatters remained of it, that was.

      "Miss?" Snapping away from her wandering thoughts, she caught Sinclair eyeing her with worry etched into his aging features, the crinkles around his dimmed eyes visible. She had been seated upon the wooden floor for the past hour — maybe even longer, she had lost count of the agonizingly slow seconds ticking by — huddled before the crackling fireplace and staring blankly into flames with no trace of life in her dull eyes. The old man reached for her in concern, "You are aware that you are invited to join us for Christmas, right?"

     And for the first time in the empty years of desolation, Novaleigh Moon felt like crying.

      "I'll be okay, Sinclair. You should go home," The shaking of her willowy fingers ceased by the tight grip he kept on her. As if she would slip away to the madness flowering within the crevices of her garden of Eden mind if he let go. He would never admit that Novaleigh Moon was a little insane — like her father, he would say. Mad in the worst of ways, but brilliant no less. It would be her downfall, he knew.

"Miss —"

"Sinclair, please." She urged softly, giving his warm hand a reassuring squeeze, though her wavering tone spoke differently. This girl had been under his care since the day she was born, he knew better than to accept this facade she bravely put up, "Spend the holidays with your family."

The pit in her stomach felt heavy as she watched him make his way towards the door with a sigh, though in the last beat of her sinking heart he spun on his heels, finely polished shoes glistening underneath the fairy lights. "I insist. I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone." He finally confessed.

"I'm not family," The words slipped past her lips harsher than she intended, but the devastating sadness laced with her trembling voice could bring nations to its knees to weep. A flicker of hesitation swelled in her chest, though she continued, the air eerily tense, "You shouldn't feel obligated to invite me to family gatherings, okay? It's fine."

Sinclair smiled sadly in return. How ironic that Novaleigh appeared unaware of the fact that her iron forged words were breaking his heart whilst she meant to save it, "You are family to me."

He saw her freeze, her eyes — that resembled pristine finished ebony wood more than those dull eyes that once belonged to her her mother — casting to her slick porcelain skin, unable to meet his gaze. He knew that he struck a nerve, her family was her Achilles heel, after all. "Sinclair..."

"Merry Christmas, Novaleigh." He finally whispered as he pulled a small, velvet box from his jacket and placed it within the palms of her hands. With a last sigh before he disappeared from her sight, he spoke gently. "He would have wanted you to have this."

Tears brimmed in her eyes as she opened the box she had been acquainted with long before life shattered what was left of her. Her heart broke inside her caving chest, sobs racking her body.

Inside marveled a shiny, diamond ring that once belonged to her mother. Her father beamed each time his wife wore it, though more often than not it remained in the box to catch dust. Like her love for him had. Though she wasn't surprised her father had kept it.

However ephemeral their love had been, he was forever hers. No matter what.

˚✧ ⁺ ˚ ⁺˳ ✧₊  ˳*˚✧ ⁺ ˚ ⁺˳ ✧₊  ˳*

SNOWFLAKES ALIKE TINY FLOWERS CRASHED DOWN UPON HIS NUMB SKIN AS HE STROLLED THROUGH THE EMPTY, STARK WHITE STREETS. The moon had dissolved into a million diamond-like pieces that twinkled high above him. A gust of wind sharply blew past him, the feeling like a knife to his cheeks. The cigarette clutched between his shaking fingers hadn't been lit, the already suffocating feeling within his chest doing more damage than he could handle. Christmas sucked, it always had, but this time he was truly alone. ( And it hurt like hell. )

And he couldn't help but wonder what in God's name he was doing when she opened the door. He frowned, a soft dumbfounded look, at her usual kind eyes that were now red and puffy, and the most palpable of her features, her smile that he somehow melted at like she was the sun, was nowhere to be found.

"What are you doing here?" Novaleigh whispered hoarsely. Goosebumps had formed on her porcelain skin, a shiver running down her back as she crossed her arms to keep warm. The storm raging outside was seeping into her brittle bones, the cold unlike most. Though the sharp pain didn't even come close to what she was already feeling.

Tony cleared his throat. "I thought about what you said and I— I was thinking that—"

"Please just, come in. It's freezing." That's when he realized she was merely wearing a sweater, and his eyes drooped to her toned legs. He hadn't even noticed she wasn't wearing much more than a sweater, and that was saying a lot. "Tony?"

He swallowed hard and followed her inside with a nod. The scent of strong liquor and burning filled his nose as he stepped into her living room. Broken charts of glass of an old bourbon bottle drowned in its liquor in a puddle of alcohol on the floor, furniture, and picture frames lied scattered across the room in a state like the bourbon. Messily broken in a fit of rage and sadness, he would know. "What the actual hell happened here?"

Novaleigh turned away. A suffocating silence wrapped its forceful hands around their throats and they exist within that moment. One. Two. Three. He was certain he could hear the taunts of the ghosts that lurked in the shadows around them. Four. Five. Six. She shifted from foot to foot, always moving. Seven. Eight — "I'm alone."

It was the shameful look on her face, her glossy eyes that glistened underneath the candle lights, the way her pale quivering lips could make cities fall to their knees in woe and the way her voice shook like her hands. He could swear he had never seen such beauty before.

And God forbid, but he understood her.

"Come with me." Tony hesitantly said after a heartbeat of silence. He didn't dare to look at the complex expression that must be crossing her soft features. "I'm flying to Vegas in a few days, throwing this New Years party. I want you to come with me."

Novaleigh chuckled softly, the sound slightly bitter though not at all in an offending matter. "I'm not overly fond of flying."

Fuck. The accident. Tony cursed at himself for forgetting.

"I'm-"

"Take some time to think about it," He cut her off before reaching for a broken frame lying on the floor. A picture of her father, standing in all his glory as he held up a broadly smiling, youthful Novaleigh. That light inside her eyes back then was nowhere to be found now, and somehow that pained him. "I understand if you need some time. It's out of nowhere, I know."

"Thank you for the offer, Tony. Truly. It's really kind of you." She whispered. Her eyes met his for the first time in their entire conversation, and he melted at the look of adoration.

"Yeah well, you're not the only one who's alone, Moon." It was meant as a joke to lighten the tension in the room, but her face fell and her teeth sunk into her lower lip.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

And for a moment, both felt comfortable in the gentle silence of each other's company. Tony Stark felt his heart bleed for the mosaic of a woman breaking before his eyes, whilst Novaleigh Moon could finally see the true damage done to the man hiding behind his towering walls, the real man behind the million dollar name burgeoning through the cracks in his cold exterior.

( well this took me ages to write and remains sloppy, and the ending is a liiiiittle bit rushed my apologies, but i'm back !! )