When you woke on the 11th of December, you'd almost forgot what day it was—your 24th birthday.

You were struck with a memory, of your 16th birthday. Your father had been invited to a charity game abroad on that very weekend. You'd had no choice in staying or going—you didn't get to spend the day with your friends, celebrating your first pivotal birthday the way you'd wanted to.

Your mother held no remorse, "You have next year, and the year after that. This game is good for your father."

Your father, however—he'd had guilt behind his eyes the entire time. You hadn't realised just how bad he'd felt until you woke up in a hotel bed to him singing you Happy Birthday, a cupcake with a candle poking out of it cupped in his hands.

You told yourself not to cry as you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. This was your first birthday without him; without his smile, without the crow's feet around his eyes starting to reveal his age.

You had to take in multiple deep breaths to stop your throat from closing up. You hadn't thought about how difficult your birthday was going to be—you hadn't even considered it a possibility of feeling emotional at his absence. And now you were paying for it.

You forced yourself to look at the lake outside, as the ice glistened beneath new flurries of snow that melted immediately upon touching its surface. You focused on the moon, still visible despite the sun being up in the sky—

The landscape calmed you immediately, tethering you to the world around, instead of the world inside your head. You dressed after a quick stretch, running a brush through your hair for the first time in a few days. It was easy to relax without inhibitions in Maude's cabin—it was easy to just exist, day to day, without a care for anything.

It was something you could have easily got used to.

This little slice of the world; secluded and beautiful; cold yet full of life.

You left your room, shuffling on the wooden floor until you rounded into the kitchen—what met you made your heart burst—

"Happy birthday!"

Maude, Benny and Matt boomed from around the table, smiles plastered on their faces. The table was topped with pancakes, waffles, fresh fruit. In the centre sat a homemade birthday cake, no doubt baked by Maude.

You simply stood as you tried not to crumble on the spot from the amount of love you felt. It filled the room to the ceiling, stuffing the furniture, the doors, the rugs, with so much light and life that if you'd died right there, you would have been happy about it.

They all came to you as you stayed, glued, to your spot, too overwhelmed to step forward. Matt encased you in a hug with Maude close on his tail. When Benny approached you, he paused before he placed his arms around your neck, bring a hand to the back of your head and gently resting it upon his chest. You embraced him back, squeezing him as you tried not to show how much your eyes were beginning to water.

"Presents!" Maude yelled theatrically, revealing a gift bag and patting the chair at the head of the table impatiently. You willed yourself to sit, gobsmacked.

"You got me presents?"

"It's your birthday, what did you expect?" Matt laughed, as everyone took a seat themselves.

Benny stole a strawberry from one of the plates, biting into it as he huffed at your expression. "You're acting like you expected us not to remember,"

"I just didn't think you'd all—," You let out, but you stopped yourself. "Never mind. I'm talking drivel."

You opened up the presents from Maude. She'd bought you a crystal glass and a bottle of gin from a local distillery. You practically hugged the bottle, your cheeks flushing. "I love gin."

Matt gave you a horrendous Christmas jumper. You opened it up, gasping as you pulled it out. On the front was a wildly misshapen Santa Claus with two dozen pom poms protruding from the fabric. You yelled with delight, shoving it over your head in excitement. You peered down at the design. "It's so ugly—I love it!"

"Is it the best worst birthday present you've ever got?" He said, looking proud of his horrific gift. It was the whole point, of course, and you felt warm knowing that Matt knew your sense of humour well enough to know you'd love the gift.

"By a landslide. It's hideous. It's perfect."

"Just wait until you see mine," Benny said, revealing a small package and placing it in front of you. It was neatly wrapped, just how you'd assumed Benny's wrapping would be. You picked it up, immediately knowing what it was—

You started silently chuckling as you opened it. When you ripped open the paper, you only stared at his gift in amused disapproval—

It was a copy of his book. You opened up the first page and your eyes fell upon his signature. Beneath it, he'd written, Follow your dreams, shoot for the stars.

You burst into laughter, snorting uncontrollably as you just about managed to turn the book so Matt could see it.

"Oh, you're an asshole, Benny."

"I think Benny wins, Matt. I'm sorry," You chuckled out. Matt only sighed in defeat.

"Not the first time he's beaten me,"

"It won't be the last, either." Benny added, shooting his friend a fighting stare.

The day was up to you—you had dibs. When you suggested skating again, Benny's face immediately dropped. He stayed inside, peering through the living room window as you and Matt glided across the lake, racing against each other around the perimeter and having a few new spills.

Occasionally you'd glance back at Benny, copy of Chess Review in hand as he sipped at a cup of Maude's cocoa, sitting on the windowsill.

After an hour, you felt too bad that he'd sat out. You and Matt rushed back inside, shivering from the cold, as you stripped off your snow-covered coats and boots. You looked in the entryway mirror, your cheeks, nose and ears flushed the brightest of reds.

Benny strolled over, handing you a fresh cup of cocoa. "Jesus—you look like Rudolf," He commented, before placing his warm palms on each side of your face unexpectedly. You would have been embarrassed if the warming feeling of his hands on your sub-zero face didn't feel so comforting.

"D'you guys wanna play some chess—," Matt turned his head round the corner to the entryway, overseeing you and Benny. You could tell he was surprised—as if he'd intruded—but he tried his best to play it off as Benny removed his hands from your cheeks almost instantly.

"Sure," Benny said, glancing back at you with a questioning look. He sounded cool, despite how quickly he'd pulled away from you.

You, on the other hand, weren't as collected.

"Yeah, just give me a second," You said, popping your mug on the dining table as you made your way to the bathroom and locked the door.

You leant against the back of the door, trying to breathe as your heart rate spiked. You weren't used to this kind of attention, this intimacy, even if it was just platonic or friendly. Benny had slowly but surely shown himself to be someone who wanted to comfort you, and with every hold of your hand or brush of your arm you could feel something bubbling within you.

You thought back to when Beth had spilled about her and Benny, how she'd spoken up so easily about his charms and his behaviour—

You didn't know what this was—

You didn't even know if you wanted anything from him, other than the friendship you already had—

But the closer Benny got to you, the stronger that warm feeling engulfed you. It was easy to hug him, to sit next to him, to laugh with him. He knew so much about you—even the things that you chose to keep inside—

Benny Watts couldn't read your mind when it came to chess, but he could certainly read it when it involved anything else.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as your flushed cheeks began to fade, along with your incessant heartbeat. You inwardly told yourself to get it together, to accept that he was simply making himself known, that he did this with all of his close friends. You wouldn't let it get inside your head; you couldn't; too afraid that if you began to overthink deeper that you'd end up losing him altogether.

"Fuck," You whispered, peering into your own reflection. "You need to get laid."

You flushed the toilet without using it, too afraid that they'd clock onto your mini breakdown over a simple hand touch to the face, before unlocking the door and heading back out to the living room.

Matt and Maude stood by the door, wrapped up in coats. "Are we going somewhere?" You asked.

"No, no, dear. We're just running to the store. I realised we're out of wine," Maude replied. You shot your gaze to Benny, cross-legged on the floor of the living room.

"Well, I can help if you—,"

"Nonsense! We'll be an hour max. There's more cocoa on the stove."

You didn't have time to ask again before the front door slammed shut, silence descending on the room. You stood in the entryway for a second, before forcing yourself to walk towards the chess board set up.

Benny was setting up the pieces, a small frown on his face. You let out a sigh, moving round to sit on the floor opposite him. Neither of you spoke as he set up the board; it wasn't awkward, but it was tense.

You swallowed down your thoughts from the bathroom, finally laying your eyes on the world champion. His frown didn't look normal. It was like he was thinking so deeply about something that it had highjacked his expression.

"Benny?" You let out, slightly concerned when he flipped over all of the pieces he'd just placed, starting to place them upright again for no reason whatsoever. "Are you okay?" You added. He finally looked up, his face gaunt and pale.

"Yeah," He replied bluntly. That's when you knew something was definitely wrong. You wracked your brain, trying to find the right words. You'd never had to make Benny open up before, and you were scared of saying something unhelpful.

Instead of talking, you stretched your hand out to his, grabbing it strongly. He stopped fiddling with the pieces as you gave him a concerned look. "I don't buy it," You said softly.

"I'm conflicted," He opened up, his stare becoming less haunting. "I don't know what'll happen if I do something, but I also think I should still do it."

You had no clue what he was talking about, and you didn't want to pry.

"If you think you should do it, then do it," You said, retracting your hand. "Trust your judgement."

The next words that left his mouth scared you to your core. "What if, as a consequence, I'll hurt someone that I care about?"

You laughed nervously, trying not to assume he was talking about you. "Why would that ever happen? If you both care for each other?" You suggested.

At this point, you knew he was talking about you. You tried to ignore the pins and needles subtly rising from the tips of your fingers; your anxiety had spiked, even more so than before in the bathroom. You had no context, no clue, no idea what was going through Benny's head, other than it involved you in some way—

That he might do something unforgivable—

Something to hurt you.

You watched as he stood and turned, jogging to his room without a word. You looked to the chess board and its fallen pieces, trying not to bite your lip off at what Benny was doing. He emerged from his room, one of his hands balled into a fist as he sat back on the floor.

He didn't speak, but some colour had returned to his cheeks.

You finally snapped, your entire unknowing façade dropping. "Benny, what's going on? Just tell me—it can't be this big of a deal,"

Benny's chest rose and fell as his breaths became deeper, slower, forcing himself to hold out his hand toward you. You stuck your hand out to his, opening it below his closed fist. It was excruciating as Benny finally dropped the contents of his hand into your own—

A black King—

It was just an ordinary chess piece. You almost felt relieved, until Benny cleared his throat.

"I took it. From your father's last game."

You weren't prepared for the way your body reacted. You didn't move as you started to go numb, as the overwhelming sound of your pumping blood hit your ears, as your heartbeat overcame all of your senses to thud beneath your ribcage—

You looked to the piece in your hand—the same piece that you'd seen as the whirring of ambulance sirens had surrounded the air, as your father lay on the floor—

Dying.

"I've had it this entire time. I was waiting for the right time to give it to you—when I thought that you'd healed or come to accept that—,"

"Accept that he's dead?" You spoke suddenly, your stare frozen on the piece in your palm. You looked at it so intensely that it started to feel like an extension of your body; like it was sinking beneath your skin.

Benny stopped talking immediately, his Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably in his throat. His eyes began to well at the sight of you, frozen, numb, completely disassociated from what was actually happening—

You felt as if you'd been hammered, layer by layer by layer, with an ice pick. Like the steel blade of a knife had just cut every inch of your skin and dropped you into the Dead Sea.

You didn't even realise you'd stood up until reality hit you like a truck; that's when you started to shake—

Your hands, your lip, your fingers, all convulsed uncontrollably, causing your lungs to scream out in pain as your body went into shock. Your head began to feel dizzy as you ran over to the entryway, slipping on your shoes as fast as you possibly could without falling to the floor, the chess piece bruising your skin as you squeezed it in your palm.

You didn't hear Benny's voice yell as you opened the door, snow and cold winds rushing inside the cabin, as you wobbled outside and down the back stairs on the porch, headed for the lake.

You couldn't feel the cold, the ice, the snow—all you could feel was the imprint of the king in your hand as the rough edge of its crown began to draw blood.

You stumbled to the lake, your throat beginning to close rapidly and your eyes beginning to well. You couldn't see past your tears; you couldn't feel past the weight of the tiny piece clasped within your fingers.

Your tears came like a wave, thick and fast, encompassing your cheeks with streaks of slowly freezing crystals that burned your skin. Your knees buckled, bringing you down until your legs were encased in fresh snow, winds whipping at your hair.

A hole had opened in your heart—maybe it had always been there, but you'd been too busy stuffing it with distractions for the past four months; trying to forget, praying to move on, ceasing to remember the way he smiled or the flick of his wrist when he moved to checkmate—

The sobs came in haunting bursts, as you'd try to keep them at bay until it was all too difficult; then you'd crumble, finally setting them free into the world, until you tried to stop another bout from escaping.

Every inch of your body was screaming at you—

Blood curdling wails sounded from inside your head, bombarding the sides if your skull until your brain rattled beneath the surface—

Until it was simply too much—

Until you broke.

You let out the largest cry you had within you, your voice reaching the highest peaks of the mountains that lay beyond the cabin. If the lake wasn't frozen, it would have rippled under the sheer magnitude of what you were feeling; the all-encompassing darkness of knowing that he was gone.

That he wasn't coming back.

You'd spent so many years rejecting his life, his love, his desire to fall into every crevice of your being. You'd spent so many years resenting his world, the looks, the stares, when all you'd wanted to tell him was that he was amazing—

That you admired him, loved him, wanted to be like him—

Wanted to play his game.

You'd never be able to tell him those thoughts, now. The weight of realisation was enough to flatten you, all the way down into the depths of the earth, somewhere that, for a moment, you thought you'd never be able to return from—

Until his knees dropped to the snow next to your crumbled frame.

Benny wrapped a coat around your shoulders as you sobbed uncontrollably, too overcome with feeling than you'd ever been before.

The touch of hands on your thighs grounded you, rising you up from the pit that you'd fallen into. You looked at his face, not caring about what the fuck you looked like to him; not ashamed of finally breaking down and letting the flood gates open fully.

Tears cascaded down his cheeks elegantly, before dropping from his chin and mingling with the snow.

You found the strength to speak, but you didn't know what would tumble out until you spoke the words—

"I gave too much of him away." You said, not even certain if it was coherent.

"You didn't know any better." He replied, before he grabbed your hand. He slowly helped to unfurl your fingers, revealing the blood-stained king in your palm.

"You kept a piece of him for me, for all this time?" Tears continued to fall from your eyes, while your feet were the first thing to feel the burning cold of compressed snow—

Next were your shins, your knees, your head. Then your fingers, as they began to tinge with blue.

Benny placed his hand over yours, encasing the king. "You're freezing."

An impromptu chuckle escaped from your lips, despite your tear-stained cheeks. "I know."

"We've gotta get you inside," Benny said, rising up from the ground, tugging you up with him. When you stood, you looked out over the lake. It glistened, as if it had been crying with you.

Benny gently pulled on your arm, but you halted him. "Wait," You sniffed, gaze still stuck to the horizon. "I just want to feel it," You let out, as the bundled tears on your chin fell to the ground.

"Just this once, I want to feel it all."

Benny looked at the horizon with you, just as the sun was beginning to set over the trees.

A wash of purple slowly filled the sky—

You breathed in, and cold air poured into your lungs—

As your final tears froze with the snow.