#movinghouse

Wake up, brush teeth, make bed, eat breakfast, get ready for work, grab blanket and go. That was the routine which Lars followed to a T every morning. And it was going perfectly. The snow outside his window danced and fluttered through the sharp winter air, each one glistening and twinkling as the gentle early January sun hit them.

With a deep breath, his face morphed into a small smile as he tucked himself further into the blue blanket wrapped around his neck. It was very important to be in the right mindset for work, so every morning Lars had his quiet time while staring out of the garage windo-

BEEEP. BEEEP. BEEEEEP!

His gaze locks onto the moving van which is parked outside the little cottage across the road.

Great. More people to muster up the courage to talk to. More awkward conversations to come. More- oh my god.

With wide eyes, Lars frantically shuffles away from the window to hide from the unfairly pretty girl walking down his drive. The unfairly pretty girl who is holding a plate of homemade cookies.

thump thump thump!

At the gentle knock on the door, his eyes shut tight for a few beats before hesitantly opening the creaky garage door.

Radiant. Fresh. Kind.

Your smile is so radiant it almost burns a hole through Lars’ face. Forcing himself to peel his line of sight from your lips, his eyes lock onto the plate of cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. Slightly burnt and crisp where they should be soft, but cookies you made.

“Hello!” You beam at the adorably flustered man behind the door, and give him your name. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you! I’ve just moved in across the road. This place is adorbs!”

Adorbs? Goodness, you’re something. But something someone Lars wants to get to know.

With a simple nod and a small, nervous smile, Lars manages to murmur out a quiet “hm.”

“Well, I brought you some cookies. Handmade!” Enthusiasm practically oozes from you, and he can tell how genuine and kind you are. “What’s your name?”

“Lars…” he almost whispers.

“Lars.” You repeat, as if you’re testing how it feels on your tongue. “That’s a very nice name. Anyways, I’d hate to further disrupt you.” With a timid step back, you hold out the steaming plate of cookies. “Here! For you!”

It’s like the sun itself knocked on his door and brightened up his lonely life. Everyday like the other, Lars desperate for love and touch he knows only hurts once given to him. But you, you and your real smile and work scarf. You and your easy kindness.

He wants to try.

“Thanks…” Taking the plate with glove-clad hands, he places down on the table next to him.

Panic rises through him like a flood as he sees you move to return to your new house.

“W-wait!”

You turn, met with the sight of Lars’ hand, for once not protected by his glove, out stretched towards you. Waiting.

As if he touched a cloud, the warmth of your hand linking with his fills him with excitement. Excitement to see you again, to learn all about this new girl he got blessed with.

You shake his hand with a gentle grip, and Lars doesn’t even seem to notice the burning sensation sparking up his arm at the rare skin on skin contact. All he seems to be able to notice is you.