Blunt

Solace

The snow glittered in red and yellow under the bright morning sunlight. Colorful dust flew across the blank white field, a scenery fueled with laughter and magical spells, children trotting around the cold blanket on the ground with their rosy cheeks.

His dishevelled hair popped out from under the snow, bits and clumps of snowflakes merging as one with his mop of dark strands. Though his eyes were sunken and his cheeks paler than others, in his brown eyes, the usual dullness was replaced with an amused glint, one which sets his stomach in a great rumble. It was a cold, winter morning, but it felt as if the sun had risen directly from his toes to his throat, crawling up the nerve system beneath his skin.

The dark haired boy in front of him flung out a small snowball to nowhere. He wasn't smiling, only a grim thin line indicated where his pale lips were - but the sight of it alone was enough to turned him hungry. He longed for it, their distance practically both non-existant and utterly big.

"Death is often associated with coldness."

The boy spoke, his pale, slender fingers flexing against each other. He felt a surge of need to reach out and tuck those hands away inside his own jeans pocket and warm them with his own heat. He suppressed it.

"But this coldness is greeted. It's loved."

A faint smile appeared from the corner of his lips, a small upward tug which sent jolts down his spine. His shoes were starting to soak up the melting ice under his feet, but the coldness bothered him none. He welcomed the freezing feeling as much as he wanted to welcome him.

He was full of heat, a descendant of the golden ray, one who radiates life himself. He radiates death and below zero temperatures. They were not meant to be, as one and each other will eventually destroy the other one, a trickery spun by three pairs of shrivelled hands.

And opposites do attract.