First Frost (ONC 2023 Novella, MxM Paranormal)

4: Snow Chaos

Snow whirls all around me, turning the room into a haze of pale cold. It's freezing and confusing but also mesmerizingly beautiful. In vain, I try to wrap the robe close to my shivering body, but the belt is unable to withstand the force of the relentless winds. Soon the clothing item falls open, allowing freezing snowflakes to pelt my naked chest.

Well, this isn't exactly the kind of relaxing morning I had hoped for. In my silly fantasies, while dangling between being asleep and awake, I had imagined spending the early hours in Anton's embrace beneath warm blankets.

Obviously, that isn't happening. Anton is gone and so is every hint of warmth.

My brain is still hazy from alcohol and heartbreak, so any practical means to closing the busted window are beyond my cognitive ability. All I know is that I need it to stop. I crouch on the floor, trying to protect my exposed body parts from the whirling winds. It seems like every snowflake in the vicinity of Stockholm has decided to breach my apartment.

Why am I so fascinated with the weather again? currently, I can't quite understand the allure. Although some scorching rays of sunshine would be welcome right about now. That kind of weather, I can still get behind.

Out of ideas, I raise my hand against the snow. "Stop!" I tell it pathetically as if the snow will listen.

Everything becomes still. Softly, snowflakes fall upon my body, melting as they land. The chaos is gone as quickly as it descended.

I look up, grabbing the lapels of my robe to close it and savor the little warmth remaining in my body. The snow is still falling with increasing intensity outside. I can discern it through the window. But something is now keeping it from entering my safe abyss.

With the robe wrapped snugly around numb limbs, I walk up to investigate. To my surprise, I discover that the hole in the window is covered by a thick sheet of ice, distorting the world outside and keeping it at bay.

Ice doesn't form that quickly. You don't have to be a Meteorology student to know that. But yet it's there, cold and blue in wavering shapes. How did it get there?

Looking down at the hand I held up to protect myself against the snow, I spot blue frosty lines along the fingertips, snaking under the skin like twisting veins. If I didn't know better, I would surmise that they originate from within me rather than from the cold outside.

Something odd is definitely going on but my mind isn't clear enough to even begin to process this revelation just yet. My head is pounding from the aftermath of the night before and my teeth are chattering from the aftermath of the intruding cold.

Hopefully, a warm shower will solve everything. So out of other options, I make my way back to the bathroom.

Stepping into the steaming cascade of water, the coldness melts away from my limbs. Soon, the blue lines along my fingers can't be hinted anymore. Perhaps they were never there. The intensity of the morning may have caused me to start seeing things. The longing for Anton and the accompanying confusion about where we stand is still present, but the streams of warmth dull the emotions. My brain even starts to kick into solution mode.

If I can just find him, surely we can figure this out? We can go back to being friends or we can... start something new. Although that notion is impossibly scary, I also don't want it to go away. It's all I have to hold onto at this point.

Body wash that smells of Arctic Cold—whatever that means? Because the cold inhabiting my apartment doesn't carry a fragrance—are lathered into every limb and crevasse, washing away the grime of the night before. Skinny ribs that protrude underneath pale skin, acne that refuse to go away even though I'm past my teens, hair in an indistinguishable shade between blond and brown, it's all drenched with blue clean drops out of a black bottle. Maybe, if I scrub hard enough, all the problems currently weighing on my thin frame will vanish down the drain together with foamy clouds.

With a towel around my waist and another draped over my shoulders, I step out of the bathroom. The floor is filled with puddles from the invading snow. I should clean that up. Luckily, the floor is linoleum so it should be able to take the dampness for a few more minutes because I need a hot cup of coffee before I'm ready to tackle any clean-up efforts.

Four spoons of deliciously smelling dark brown powder are tipped into the coffeemaker. Water is filled up to the cup symbol with a four next to it. Soon the energy-infusing liquid is brewing. While I rummage through the cupboards in search of something to nourish me, I turn on the radio on the window sill.

A few Digestive crackers and a cup of yogurt are all I can scrounge up to accompany the coffee. It will do for now. I wonder if I have enough left of my last student allowance to manage a trip to the store for some noodles, oatmeal, and bread. Otherwise, I will have to head to my older sister Ida, hoping she will take pity on her younger, and stupider, brother and feed him. Maybe she'll even send me home with a lunch box so I can sustain myself until my payment from the school library, where I work as a clerk, is due next week.

Meatballs and mashed potatoes, oven pancake with apples, macaroni pudding... I can't help but dream of the kind of kid-friendly food Ida serves. Her children, my niece and nephew, may be about fifteen years younger than me but we have the same taste when it comes to dinner. It sounds like heaven to my hangover-riddled body. Perhaps after such treats, I will feel human again.

I chew on one of the crackers as I ponder my plan. First food, then Anton, then afterward, I will deal with whatever weather-related madness is going on with my hands. Although I can still not quite believe what I've seen happening—snow whirling, frost forming, ice hardening—to actually be true. It's not possible.

But neither were me and Anton ever becoming more than friends.

The sound of the radio cuts through my musings. At first, my distracted mind can't quite process the information being divulged. Words and phrases get through but the bigger picture is shaded by a fog of snow and kisses.

Snow chaos throughout Stockholm...

All trains are canceled... keep off the motorways...

Stay inside. Only go outside in emergencies.

It seems hasn't only reached inside my apartment: it appears to have the whole city in its grip.

And Anton is somewhere out there, swept away by the storm.