His Firsts

My breath ghosted in between my lips in the early morning gloaming. Here I stood, planted outside of the cabin like a mesmerized statue. Snowflakes from the night before had dusted barren trees in glittery white. A winter wonderland beckoned me forward, dangling a chance to roam and explore, an offer I've never received until now.

I've never even touched snow before until now.

Prior to this year, unless I was required to test my abilities in an outdoor setting, the scientists — the people that once manipulated my life on strings like expert puppeteers — would've never considered exposing me to the outer world.

The real world, where everything and everyone was, as I had been warned, at risk from me.

However, since my grand escape, I no longer have to be tucked behind locked windows and iron bars. I was no longer chained down with obligations as a subject of supernatural studies. That was far behind me now.

While standing next to me, Sierra tilted her head to the side, her hands set against her hips. "How do you want to celebrate our Christmas?" Cheer radiated from her strong vocals. All of a sudden, her features lit up with a toothy grin, and then a pair of warm brown eyes met mine. "Do you want to build a snowman squad?"

"I've never built a snowman before," I confessed, as I wrung my gloved fingers out of anxious habit. "I think I know how, but I'm new to this."

"Hey, that's okay." To steady me, she caught my shoulder and squeezed it. "I can always help you. Just follow my lead, all right?"

"Okay."

"A snowman is made up of three parts: the body, the chest, and the head." As she spoke, Sierra crouched down and gathered lumps of snow. "First thing's first, you gotta make a circle." Her gloved fingers worked to mold whatever she had collected into a sphere. "Then, you roll it."

She demonstrated by nudging her newly formed snowball forward. The further she pushed it, the more it expanded, until its mass and height grew enough to reach her knees.

"I think I get it now." I stroked the giant snowball with delicate care, caressing the bumpy and solid edges with newfound awe.

"See, you just needed me to show you, that's all. You're smart. Always have been and always will be." Sierra flashed a thumbs up. "Wanna help me complete step two of the snowman plan? Basically, we need another snowball on top of this one."

I smiled.

Together, we proceeded to build our snowman squad. To serve as decoration, chunks of coal and crooked carrot sticks were piled high inside of a weaved basket. A maze of footprints trailed behind us everywhere we walked. By the time we finished Snowman #4, my fingers were numb to the bone, despite the usage of gloves, and my face was flushed pink from our efforts brought forth into the supreme cold.

"Wow," Sierra exhaled. "We've really made quite the family. Wanna make another one?" When she glanced in my direction, however, her expression morphed into that of concern. "Are you okay?"

Before I could dismiss her worries and insist that we resume our snowbuilding activities, she seized my cheeks with her hands, her hold on me tender, and bumped foreheads. Quickly, her face was zoomed into my vision.

I almost choked on my own spit.

"Sierra—"

Her eyes glowed a toasty golden hue, an indication that she was scanning me. Rays of amber light washed over me once, twice, and then they blinked into nonexistence.

"Your body temperature is 96.5 degrees Fahrenheit," she concluded. "That's not good. We need to head back inside or else you might contract hypothermia."

"But we were having fun—"

"It's okay to take a break." For a few moments we stayed where we were, every constant inhale and exhale from her shuddering through me and vibrating my bones.

At last, I asked, "Can we watch a movie?"

A giggle drifted from her, swirling in the air around me with beautiful sound. "Sure."

With that, we shuffled back inside of the cabin, our clumsy steps clomping against white slush. Sierra and I yanked our boots off, brushed off the snow that had accumulated in our clothes, peeled off our gloves, and hung our jackets onto the nearest coat rack. Then, we migrated to the living room area, where the furnishings and television were arranged in carefree fashion. Fairy lights dangled from the ceiling, dominated the walls, and snaked around a teeny tiny pine tree in the corner like a nation of fireflies.

"Could you get the fire going?" Sierra reached out to file through a mix of charcoal and silver strands, ruffling my hair like she often did. "I'll add extra marshmallows on your hot cocoa, just the way you like it."

Energy hummed in the back of my skull, thrumming in my veins with an all-familiar buzz. As if possessed with life, the fireplace horizontal to us ignited with a spark. Flames materialized in a heartbeat. Our television revived with a flicker. Pillows were swept off wooden tiles and puffed out. After cycling around us in a makeshift dance, they collapsed onto our shared armchair.

Just then, one of the blankets from the bedroom entered the scene and swooped down on us, resembling a flexible green ghost. It twirled past Sierra before engulfing her in a hug, much to her pleasant surprise. More of her melodious laughter rang loud and clear as she gave in to the blanket's embrace.

"Thanks, Oscar."

Heat tickled my ears and trickled down to my neck. "Let's make hot cocoa together."

“Sure thing."

Some minutes breezed by before a toe-curling screech could disturb our floral teapot kettle. Steam clouded over a sunshine-colored mug. A crowd of baby marshmallows invaded the surface of the hot cocoa once it was done, installing a funny kind of amusement within Sierra.

To catch my attention, she pulled on my sleeve. As I glanced down at her, I noticed that the green blanket I had dropped on her still draped over her shoulders like a cape.

"Oscar."

"Hm?"

A gentle tug helped shed the blanket off. Before I could react, she wrapped it around me. It weighed on my back and enveloped most of my frame in rich fluff.

I blinked, confused by her actions.

"I would prefer for you to keep me warm instead," she said.

"Okay," came my flustered response, since I was too dazed to express anything else.

When we stepped back into the living room, with a mug of hot cocoa now under our possession, I lowered down on the floor and stretched my legs. Like an eager puppy, Sierra rushed to settle in front of me. The small of her back pressed into my torso.

For security measures, I tightened the blanket around me to prevent it from slipping away, only to tie Sierra with me in the process. Together, we were bound in a comfy blanket cocoon.

“How'd you know that I love 101 Dalmatians?" Sierra questioned once she took note of the film ready to play, her chin tilted up to stare at me. "Did I ever tell you?"

"No," I murmured, matching her gaze with solid adoration. "It was a lucky guess. I didn't know until now."

Truth was, I had discussed the subject of her all-time favorite movies with Vinny, her one and only guardian, about a week ago. Not that I would ever admit that.

"Sometimes I think you have telepathy," she lightly mused, "even though I know you don't. You just have really strong telekinesis."

Once the film started, featuring a London flat from the top, Sierra drew in a couple sips from our mug before sharing the rest with me. I inhaled most of the marshmallows, which had melted into bubbly, sticky mush by now.

In between certain acts of the storyline, we swapped comments and shared our thoughts about the dalmatians and Cruella De Vil. Our mug of hot cocoa was drained empty halfway into the movie.

An hour and a half later, after the finale was executed with the dalmatians trumping over Cruella De Vil, the end credits cued.

Sierra leaned back and nuzzled the crook of my neck. Sighing, she curled against me like a joined puzzle piece. I could feel her smile tickling the sensitive skin near my collarbone.

"Oscar." Her pronunciation of my name soothed me, delivered by her pretty purr.

"Sierra," I mimicked, just before letting out a content sigh.

All of a sudden, she rose with a jolt and reeled my shoulders in with a grip that enhanced her super strength too well. "I almost forgot about the presents! Should we open them now? Can we open them now?"

Judging by the happy jitters awakening within her, I already knew the answer to that. Like the impatient enthusiast that she was, Sierra hurried over to our bright pine tree. I sided near her and grabbed one out of the four presents situated underneath the fairy lights.

"I'm not good at inventing devices from scratch," I started, as I drew out a medium-sized treasure chest, "so I had Vinny help me. Credit goes to him too. I hope you like this."

Anticipation oozed from her buoyant nature, so much so that I could almost taste it. As the imaginary drum rolls raged, she cracked open the chest.

A pair of bronze rocket boots winked at her.

With Vinny's assistance, the amount of time it took for me to construct the shiny gadgets added up to three weeks.

Three weeks of undercover work.

Astonishment wheezed from Sierra in the form of a dry gasp.

"No way," she whispered, her pupils blown wide. "Can I try them on?"

"Yes."

With practiced nonchalance, she detached both of her feet, toes and all, from her ankles and replaced them with the boots. Newer gears shifted with older ones as she plugged the footwear in, resulting in a sequence of rapid-paced clicks and whirls.

"To activate them, you have to jump twice," I told her.

Sierra stood with robotic obedience and did as instructed. The soles of her boots slapped against wooden tiles once, twice, and then she was launched into the air in a jet of blue fire.

Victory squeals boomed from her while she raced around the cabin in arbitrary zigzags. She rejoiced in her ability to exercise flight and agility by performing a mid-air handspring and cartwheel in one go.

Smiling, I admired her wicked aerial stunts, proud that all of my — and Vinny's — efforts were put to good use.

"Oscar, I love these! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Each 'thank you' ricocheted off the walls like a shot. In a flash, Sierra crash-landed with a deft grace and casually resumed the gift exchange. "Now it's your turn."

Beaming, she handed me a squared box donned in ruby-red wrapping paper. In the center, a bow of the same color bloomed.

"Thank you."

Before I could rip apart the gorgeous wrapping paper, I knocked on the sides of my box first. Hollow taps sounded. When I uncovered my present, a wooden container was revealed. The interiors of said container showcased a variety of items.

A cone-shaped seashell being one of them.

"It's a box of memories," Sierra explained. She pointed at the seashell, following where my gaze was pinned at. "This is a souvenir from your first visit to the beach. That was six months ago, shortly after our first meeting."

I picked up a skinny strip of paper, which I soon recognized as a compilation of photos starring me and her. In one image, Sierra had an arm looped around my neck and her hand posed in a peace sign. Awkward alarm clung to my features back then, startled by the moment.

"And that's from your first time at an arcade." She chortled. "You had no idea what a photo booth was."

"Or how one worked," I added.

The next item was a drawing. Cartoon versions of me and her were sprawled across a crinkled yellow-white page.

"I know I'm not exactly an artist, but this is from that one time I tried to introduce you to fun." Our fingers tangled together as she spoke. "You've lived a sheltered lifestyle before our first encounter. Those scientists trained you to repress your emotions, so for a while you didn't know what fun was."

The last object was a friendship bracelet composed of rainbow beads.

"This was the first thing I made for you," Sierra said. "You didn't want it when I gave it to you back then, but I still kept it with me until now."

"Sierra."

The tremble that quaked my voice had her head spinning in my direction. Before she could open her mouth, I reached forward and buried her in my arms, a spontaneous action that conveyed all of my gratitude.

"You're welcome," she whispered against me.

*~*~*

When I first met Sierra, she was hired as a bodyguard by one of the scientists. Her main mission was to, as they quoted, 'tame me when necessary' during daily experiments.

Back then, my telekinesis would go berserk at random. And it still did, but I've learned to cope with it now. I've learned to accept the worst for the better, and in turn, the control that I have over myself has extended.

With age came strength; the older I was, the more my psychic abilities would flourish, until they peaked to an extreme that resulted in me having to be monitored on a second-by-second basis. Cameras stalked my every move, not that I could go anywhere anyway.

I was told to feel nothing, or else I might destroy. Emotions could morph my power into a bloodthirsty beast. Because of that reason alone, the scientists did all they could to conceal anything and everything that might touch my heartstrings.

Unless it was for an experiment, they forbid me from coming in contact with any hobbies and forms of entertainment; they banned movies, games, arts and craft, knitting, dancing, singing, sports, etc.

Unless it was for an experiment, I wasn't allowed to participate in any of the following.

When I first met Sierra, she was paid to be a bodyguard for the scientists, not for me.

One day, while on duty, she asked me how I was. At the time, I didn't think she was speaking to me, not until her question replayed for me to hear once more.

Even though she wasn't ordered to, she had initiated a conversation. She took action on her own.

"I'm fine," I answered, and those were the only words I would say to her. Every time she asked me how I was, I would parrot those two words.

I'm fine.

I wasn't allowed to be more than fine, nor was I allowed to be lesser than. I was just fine.

One day, while on duty, Sierra broke her promises as a bodyguard and demolished my cell into ruins with her bare hands. A cacophony of bell shrieks and betrayed security roared in the background.

"Come with me," she demanded, a desperate haste dripping in her voice. I wasn't even given a chance to react. All I remember was her yanking me to my feet and whisking me away in a world outside of the lab. I couldn't recall much of the damage she had left behind in her wake, nor the havoc she had wrecked with her laser beams and ray guns.

When the adrenaline subsided and I finally grasped the reality of my situation, I asked her, "Why did you do that?”

Sierra turned around, her stony expression unreadable. Her hands, which had reverted back into fingers instead of remaining as tasers, clenched into fists by her side. "Because they didn't treat you right."

"But I'm not supposed to be treated right—"

"Don't say that!" she bellowed, a finger trained on me like a weapon. And it was, since it could transform into a range of possibilities, like a laser gun or a switchable knife. "Don't say that."

"I won't say it again," I promised, just to calm her abrupt eruption.

"But you'll believe it." She lowered her finger down. "And I don't want you to believe something like that."

All I could offer was silence. I didn't know how else to respond.

Now that we were on the run, we had to move forward.

For a while, we traversed through the woods without a word.

It was late in the evening, later than what I was accustomed to. Cricket chirps combined together to orchestrate an evening choir. Leaves rustled whenever warm breezes were present, as if whispering to the starry sky. As my night slippers dragged against blades of grass, I processed my wild surroundings in secret wonder, for I had never seen such tall branches and gnarled roots before.

Or any trees, for that matter.

Out of nowhere, Sierra decided to halt in front of me, which rendered me frozen with her. "There's also another reason for why I chose to rescue you."

"And what is it?" I asked.

Slowly, she faced me, her heels twisted in a partial rotation. "You're, uh," she gestured to me with frantic hand motions that clarified nothing, "you know."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're you."

“I'm me?"

"You're hot," she sputtered.

Suddenly, my entire face was set aflame, scorched by her comment.

"You're like, super fine," she babbled on, looking like she wanted to shrivel up and melt, "and maybe I wanna know you better because of that. Maybe telling you this out loud makes me seem shallow—"

"No," I heard myself say. "Uh, no. It's fine. Thank you for thinking that I'm hot."

No one had ever applied that adjective onto me before.

"You're welcome, I guess."

And with that, a new chapter was born in our lives.

*~*~*

Now, here I was, savoring the holidays for the first time.

“I can't believe it's almost midnight," Sierra remarked. With an elegant twirl, she collapsed onto her individual bed, her copper hair sprayed across pale pink sheets. "Wow, what a day we've had!"

We had relocated to our room after unwrapping all of our presents.

Before traveling overseas in Europe for his winter vacation, Vinny had stored his gifts underneath the pine tree. After today, we were able to identify what he had given us.

"When Vinny gets back from his vacay next week, I'll thank him for the charger. I needed a new one." Sierra twisted off the bronze rocket boots from her ankles. After reattaching her feet on, she wiggled her toes to gain back some sensation.

"He gave me a box of gel pens and other art supplies," I said, as I sat next to her. Our shoulders brushed against each other. "We can test them out now, if you want."

Even though a minor drowsy spell had been cast over me after our gift exchange, I knew Sierra loved coloring. It was a relaxing hobby of hers.

"Oscar, aren't you supposed to be tired right now?"

"I can stay up."

“While I can recharge by connecting myself into an outlet for a good four hours, the only way you can rest is with sleep."

"I don't want you to color alone."

“We did a lot today, didn't we? Don't worry about it."

The intimate gap between us narrowed, then sealed shut when she leaned in.

After the kiss, Sierra licked her lips and brightened. "You still taste like the hot cocoa we drank."

"I do?"

Without an ounce of hesitation, she tasted me again.

“Yup," she confirmed, the joy that twinkled in her eyes glamorous enough to outshine the stars. "You definitely taste like hot cocoa."

Chuckles rumbled in my throat. "That's sweet."

"No, you're sweet. Literally."

I tossed her a not-so-amused look for the pun, though a smile still stretched my mouth. "Good night, Sierra."

"Merry Christmas, Oscar."