𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

Twisted Neverland

"Can you love someone you've never met?"

T'was a question Silvermist had doubts answering not until the man in purple eyes and silver hair, sat in front of her; not until he spoke—not until he felt his skin brushed against hers—now everything's been made clear.

"Frost?" Her voice danced against the frigid wind.

"You know me?"

Sil's lips only parted, no words escaped. She wanted to answer; she wanted to ask a lot of things from all of the confusion, but the words kept evaporating on the tip of her tongue.

Her mind went completely blank. All she's certain of is the man was to her a great of a complex timepiece; whose every tick, every tock, she'd recognize even before knowing it was him.

"What's going on?!"

Her mind wandered down the cold floor of the enchanting place she never thought she'd sat on. The stinging pain from the wound on her elbow when she fell from the stairs and the smell of lavender lingering in her nose proved she ain't dreaming.

"Lavender! Just as I thought he'd smell like," she thought.

"Are you okay?" The man asked and she winced when her wound stung.

"Y-Yes, I'm alright."

Finally, Sil was able to release the breath she didn't know she was holding. It must be the uncertainty plastered on her face or her vocal tremor which made the man frown in concern—or something far more evident—her bleeding elbow.

"No, you're not. We've got to get that treated," he pointed, carefully grabbed her by the shoulders to help her up, and led her to the entrance of his huge crystal castle.

Sil didn't fret; she was expecting to see exactly what she wrote—and nothing's making any sense to her at all. How the hell did she come into such a situation? That—she didn't have any idea about, as she clearly remembered herself waiting for the New Year's Eve in front of her laptop, finishing her manuscript which is due the next day.

"The fireworks. It must be the fireworks, or else, what?"

She went to watch them from the windows of her room. When they exploded in the clear night sky, she saw something black squiggled against the light and a flicker of different shades of blue and red hues.

Suddenly, words fleeted towards her.

As human mechanism, her eyes shut close—the moment she opened them, she's already falling down the stairs, and landed in front of him; in front of her first love which never in her entire 24-years-of-existence she thought she'd meet.

Why you ask? Because the man in front of her is Frost Winterford—the main male character of the fantasy novel she's writing, "Mystic Neverland".

Sil observed Frost tending her wound with his enchanting magical touch—slowly sinking everything in which, honestly, is nothing too great of a big deal for her. It's even safe to say that 'twas a dream come true. Silvermist started writing when she was only 8 years old and Frost was the first ever character, she had created in her imaginations, who has been put into words when she was 20, and finally created a perfect plot just this year.

He's been her first and only love, so sitting with him on a crystal davenport feels extremely surreal.

His hands are warmer than she imagined. Sil found herself staring at Frost's beautiful face.

Yes, she created him that way; Amethyst eyes, silver hair, snowy skin—an image of a soft winter god—now's in front of her. His white Vintage European Royal Court Baroque made him look more mesmerizing, enticingly captivating.