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And the coldest night
Of the coldest year
Comes right before the spring
- Doubt Comes In, Hadestown
They made it out. They made it out. Eurydice’s knees buckled beneath her—into the lukewarm grass and the crickets a-buzzing. The spring moon shone down on the lovers as Orpheus rushed to her side. Familiar hunger gnawed in her gut, something she hadn’t felt in six years. Her hands being empty felt strange, and she curled them into fists, searching for a pickaxe she no longer had to hold. Her poet’s hands slotted into hers as soon as he noticed. She stilled, the sensations of a season she had not seen in decades washing over her all at once. She had gotten used to being Hades’ canary, to working. The leather of her mining outfit had grown comfortable. She had gotten used to the unnaturally bright lights, instead of the cozy darkness she had lived all her life with. The loud cacophony of axes swinging and power lines and shouting, instead of the warm, raspy voice of her lover. The pain in her arms and thighs and head from all the labor and noise, instead of the feeling of being held and loved. Now, the canary was free, and she didn’t know how to feel—Her knees cracked from the impact.
Eurydice’s lover joined her on the dewy ground, kneeling next to her. He hesitantly placed a hand on her arm, rubbing her collarbone gently with his thumb; like he would often do to soothe her. She flinched back for a moment, before recognizing that he wasn’t there to grab her harshly or make her work or force her to sing, he was there to take care of her, make sure she’s loved and knows that.
“Eddie, are you okay?” She crashed into him, sobbing. Her breath heaved. “Eurydice, are you with me?”
Her chest ached and she couldn’t get a good breath. She involuntarily clenched her hands again, the missing weight unbearable. The light buzzing and cold dewy grass and smell of fresh flowers and owls cooing was too much for her. A disgusting part of her wished for the Fates whispers and Hades’ booming shout and the arduous labor and the pain. She chuckled self-deprecatingly, and gently pushed Orpheus off her, being met with confusion. She settled back into the rhythm she had learned so well. Up, down, up down, up down, up down. Low, keep your head low, if you wanna keep your head low, if you wanna keep your head—up, down up down up down up down up down up down up—
“—Rydice. Eurydice. Lover?” She heard his voice coax, gravely from singing and screaming and crying, but held his normal breathiness.
She gripped his arms, kissing up and down them. Her lips brushed his wrists, sending a little jolt through the both of them. She let him wrap his arms around her again, and the moon shone a bit brighter, forcing her to hide her eyes against his shoulder. His shirt was filthy, and she smelled blood and sweat on him, and other awful smells. But she was covered in years worth of grime and coal-dust, so she couldn’t complain. He also smelled like her Orpheus, that light scent of flowers and an old lyre. He wrapped his arm around her waist.
His other hand threaded through her hair, picking out some pieces of rock and some dirt. Eurydice kissed his arm again, melting into his embrace. To her horror, she still shook. She still struggled to breathe, her air getting cut off by an awful feeling of dread. She remembered fields of flowers, soft beneath her heels, but now that peace she got when spring came was gone. Hades was going to come back and get her.
The part of her that begged for misery was made silent when Orpheus kissed her hand. “We did it, baby, we made it out.”
She blinked, slowly. Her glazed over eyes could see again. “Orpheus!” She shrieked like a banshee. He wasn’t supposed to see any of that. He wasn’t. She was supposed to have these episodes when she was alone and safe, not when he could see her fall apart like a rotting flower. She shook her head violently, he had seen her at her worst, he had seen her scream, seen her cry, seen her dead and hollow. This was fine. This was fine. “I’m so sorry, love.” She cried, “I’m so sorry. I-I.” She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Orpheus kissed her hand again.
He started to sing lightly, when he probably should’ve been resting his throat, but what did she know? He was the son of a muse. He knew it calmed her. “La, la, la, la la… la, la la la la la. La… I walked beside you love, anyway the wind blows..” That earned a giggle from Eurydice.
She turned around to steal a kiss. He kissed her back just as hard. “Thank you, my love. That was beautiful.” She praised.
Eurydice raked her fingers through his hair, inhaling the faint smell that was left of the shampoo he used. She cupped his face in her hands gingerly, afraid to hurt any of his scars or the bruise on his jaw, and kissed him again. Desperation seeped through all of her movements. She wanted this man with a passion she could hardly bear. She stayed entangled with him in the grass for a while, her lips on his.
She sat up, still mounted on top of him. “I love you.” She murmured. Another kiss. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” She kissed the tip of his nose, making his face scrunch up. It was like she was holding the world when she held him. “I love you, Orpheus.” She peppered his face with kisses while he chuckled under her. He closed his eyes before she kissed his eyelids, closed his mouth when she kissed the corners.
“Can you stand?” He asked, and when Eurydice’s knees threatened to buckle once again, he picked her up. one arm braced under her thighs, the other on the small of her back. She squeaked in surprise. Then she buried her head in his shoulder, suddenly exhausted. “Let’s go home.”
Eurydice fell asleep, carried in the arms of her love. The birds chirped, the flowers bloomed, and she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
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