(Some sad shit

So okay

Reader is a Crane who can turn into a human

And Maven is a red

Okay? Okay

Also, ya'll like 30 years old in this so think about that)

Like feathers shimmering white; fluttering falling snow

You stretch out your human hands, taking in deep breaths as you try to warm yourself. Your husband, Maven, sits in front of a fireplace with a blanket wrapped around him. The cold has never bothered you, personally, but you fear for your human husband. You are not what he thinks you are. Long ago, he saved you from a trap in the forest. In his eyes, he saved a crane. You are a rare type of creature that can turn into a crane and a human. You don't know which you were born as, as you don't have any parents are understanding of real cranes. So you just live with Maven, as the years have gone by and you have loved and married him.

Just the two together waiting embracing tight

Maven looks at you with sad, mature eyes. You walk close to him, kneeling down next to him. Maven makes you feel a way you never have before. He makes you feel human. Maven wraps on arm around you, pulling you close as you rest close to him. The sound of the wind blowing against the window fills the air along with the crackling of the fire. It's truly pleasant here. This is where you want to spend the rest of your life.

"The snow has come again, just like that day back then." Maven whispers. You close your eyes, enjoying the sound of his voice. Yes, the day he speaks of was when you first came to his doorstep. You had a warm cloak wrapped around your head, protecting you from the harsh snow. You asked him for shelter from the storm. And after that day, you never left.

Flushing red I hid my face away from the heat

You snuggle closer to his chest. You wanted to tell him that you were the crane from the days before. But you're scared. Would he still love you if he knew you were the crane? Would he leave you? You don't want to suffer through the thought of him leaving you. So you keep it to yourself. 

Finally, spring has come again

The flowers on the front porch of your small, wooden home start to bloom early this year. You always loved being outside in nature. The feeling of the fresh grass under your feel and the soft air on your skin is the only harmony. You have even started your own garden out front that you can restart this season. And as you walk outside, Maven sits on the front steps with a basket full of cloth that he cuts accordingly. He knows that you love weaving, so he makes sure to always go to the market and get new materials for you.

Together with the birds I sing a chorus with this endless breath of happiness

The sounds of chirping fill your ears as you approach the steps. You smile warmly. You love the birds outside. Somehow, they always have a connection towards you. You lift up your finger as the sound of the wind blowing leaves calms the area around you. The bird flies to your hand, looking at you with one eye. 

Keep a secret, you want to tell it. It chirps at you, inching closer. You can't help but laugh. You let out a singing note in the same tone that the bird shared, making a fun game out of the moment you and this bird have together.

"When you sing, everything's beautiful," you say to me. 

That alone, those words you spoke, brought me joy that I could not express

I turn around to look at you. He has a small smile on his face. Maven... You smile back. How can such a human provoke such an emotion into you? As you stare at him, the bird flies away. Leaving you alone with Maven. And you wouldn't want it any other way.

You walk over to Maven, sitting next to him. He takes hard, deep breaths. He's been started to do that recently. You ask him if he's okay all the time. He always answers positively. You know he's lying. 

So now, you rest his head on your lap. Just to let him rest. The seasons have always messed with him. And as you look down into his blue eyes, you wonder how somebody as beautiful as he could love you.

"If there's a day my voice has gone away; if I can't sing anymore, would you still be here with me; would you still love me as you did before?" You ask. Maven looks up at you, raising his hand and putting it on your cheek. You stroke his hair, feeling a lump forming in your throat.

"But of course," he whispers quietly. Then, he smiles. Your tears fall onto his cheek. Embarrassed, you close your eyes. Just knowing that Maven will always love you brings you a joy you can't even consider to express. 

One summer afternoon when leaves were dappled blue

And in the summer, who let Maven help you pick the berries from your garden. The wind always blows in his hair in a way that makes him look like a teenager again. He always enjoys working with you, because it's a way he can bond with you. There is a lot of mystery around you and where you can come from. So whatever he knows you take interest in, he loves doing whatever you love. Even if it causes him pain.

You tired as your sickness left you weaker than you knew

Suddenly, there is silence. You only hear your footsteps. A part of your heart stops. You turn around, praying to God that your husband is okay. But his back is towards you, he is hunched over with his hand over his mouth. He jolts, coughing violently. Quickly, you drop your basket. You never thought Maven would be this bad. He has been slow, but he's always been slow.

You wrap your arms around Maven's shoulders. There is blood in his hand. He looked distressed, an emotion you've never seen on him before. 

"It's okay, it's okay." You whisper to him. He grabs your hand, holding it tightly. You feel on the verge of tears. Why is this happening? It's the scariest thing you could have imagined. You don't know how to heal him, you don't have any remedies. What is going to happen? 

You help Maven get to the house, the beaming summer heat bringing sweat to his face. You whisper to him, telling him you'll keep him safe. You promise.

What we had living together could not afford 

Remedies that were needed for curing you

Maven lays in his bed, his eyebrows knotted together. In the cold, dark room he lays in he breaths lightly in his sleep. You brush his hair with your hand before returning to your workroom. As you slide open the door, the warm light pours in. You look back to Maven. You hope the light will stay.

You look at the equipment you use to weave your blankets. In the corner is the basket Maven brought in full of cloth. You come up with a plan in your head. You will do anything to save Maven. 

You decide to start weaving again. But this time, you'll weave your feathers into the clothes. You hope people will buy them.

So day by painful day, with no more time to waste, 

While weaving at the loom I close my eyes and keep my faith

Your hands start to fade away, coming to the point where you have to bandage them up from the ongoing pain. You have open wounds constantly finding a way to bleed past the bandages. And soon, the autumn leaves start to flutter. The harsh wind constantly bounces against the walls of the house, forcing you to work harder. Even through all of the pain and the aching, you never stop working. You have to, for Maven. For the first human that showed any kindness to you. To the boy who saved you from hunters that one day. To the kindest, most handsome person you have ever met.

And so the seasons turn with time 

The summer ending echoes with the chorus of the crickets chirping their goodbyes

And with the turning seasons, you work harder with Maven to cure him. Every day you help feed him. He is becoming weaker every day. You have to manually feed him. And today, as he sits up, you help him hold a bowl of soup in his hands. His face is paler than usual and his eyes are hallowed. But he still looks like the Maven you look. 

"You hold beauty in your fingertips," he says to you. He grabs your hands with his, holds them. It brought tears to your eyes. He cradles your wounded hands while his own as cold as winter ice.

And your hands, so much larger as they held the pain within my own

And after the meal, when the moon defeated the sun, Maven stood to watch the moon and count the stars. He did not want to interrupt you, hard at work in your weaving room. So he stands by himself, peacefully watching the night sky. He knows that one day your hands will run out, and you will have to give up eventually. But he has faith. He has faith that the day you get the remedies he will already be fine. He hopes.

"Maven," you breathe out, peering into the room. He doesn't turn to look at you. He just keeps staring at the sky, trying not to cry as the wind gets colder. You take small steps closer to Maven. With each step, it feels like you're getting closer to accepting his fate. It makes you want to stop, to turn back to your workroom. But you don't stop. You hug him from behind, grasping him in your arms. 

"If there's a day my hands have lost their glow and I can't weave anymore. Would you still be here with me; would you still love me as you did before?" You ask, pressing your face into his clothes. You try to memorize his smell, trying to grasp onto what makes him real.

"But of course," was his reply. Quickly after he spoke, he coughed into his sleeve.

No time to sleep, I need to weave, I need to heal you somehow

As the summer's breeze came, you counted all of the coins you received. Not enough, still not enough. There's no time to weep. You need to weave. You continuously pluck your feathers, leaving you with just a handful. It's not enough. You continue to weave. Maven listens to you from his room. He can hear your constant winces and cries. Often Maven stands by his window, watching the swaying decayed fruits that once were perfect in your garden. There are no birds this season. There are never any birds. When you look out the windows, you check the leaves. You race them. As the seasons start to turn, you hope to beat them in the act of making a difference. But you're falling behind. 

Keep fighting 'til my fingers are nothing... Weaving until the feathers are all gone...

Your purple fingers can no longer care to weave, and your naked Crane body can't handle the cold winters anymore. 

Soon on his deathbed, you hold Maven. His face is pale. His breaths are slow. 

"If there's a day where I am not the same, not human anymore. Would you still be here with me would you still love me as you did before?" You ask him. He looks up at you with his pale, blue eyes. He opens his mouth, letting out air. You grab his hand. Warm tears fall onto his cheeks, a mixture of his and yours. He keeps his eyes on you, taking in your beauty before his eyes suddenly glaze over. 

"Maven?" You let out, gently shaking him. You shake your head, looking him up and down. This can't be happening. This isn't how it's supposed to end. You were supposed to save him. He was supposed to live on and hold you tight forever. This can't happen. 

You grasp his face with your purple, numb hands. More tears started to form. The man who saved you and continuously proves that life is worth living just disappeared from your grasp forever. And just as he passed, the snow of winter began. 

Reaching out, drifting down, the final feather falls alone...