Snippets [boyxboy and girlxgirl shorts]

Murder in the Snow

Rating: M for MAXIMUM EDGE, B for BLOOD

Pairing: Guy and a ?? gendered human, can't decide

Based off of: I was listening to the song White Winter Hymnal and I couldn't stop thinking about blood on snow so I wrote about a serial killer and their boyfriend watching a woman bleed out in a snowy field

Other notes: Please don't read this if you don't want to read creepy and edgy descriptions of blood, I honestly do not know why I wrote this and I'm only posting it because if you ignore the weird theme it's actually pretty ok writing

~~~~~~~~~~

I gripped his hand tighter as we watched the sticky blood seep into the snow around her head.

"Are you scared?" I whispered, not looking away from her body. The snowflakes were getting caught in her eyelashes, caught in her hair... It was beautiful. She was like a painting. I knew she was a good choice.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, also not looking away.

Now my head whips towards him. "You're not?"

His dark eyes meet mine, and I see waves of things I can't decipher. That's one thing I love about him. He can't be read. "It's just a part of you." He says simply. "And I love you. I'm not afraid."

He holds my eyes. I almost want to reach out and brush a strand of hair out of his face. The snowflakes are getting caught in his eyelashes, too, and it's even more beautiful than it is on her. He squeezes my numb fingers. "How long are we going to wait here?"

I look back at her. I look at him. I lower myself into the snow, sitting before her corpse. "A while."

He's hesitant for only a moment before sitting beside me. "Alright."

I love him. I've known it for a long time. And so I showed him this part of me, this key puzzle piece to my existence. He doesn't have to understand, yet. He just has to know. And now he does. I close my eyes, imagining what we're going to do with her body. All the options, all the outcomes... She has so much potential. A virgin of her age is rare, beautiful, and perfect for my purposes. I wonder if he'll help me. He could hold her feet while I drain the blood. Or he could separate the skin from the muscles. I wonder if he's any good at sewing. I shift slightly, excited by all the possibilities. I can't help blush, thinking of all these romantic possibilities.

"Can we touch her?" He asks quietly. I'm a bit taken aback.

"Would you like to?" I respond instead of giving an answer.

He shrugs. We're making eye contact again. Can he read me? Does he know what we're doing? What I wish we were doing?

I decide to humor him. He's never done this before, so it's not his fault he doesn't know the rules. "Just don't tamper with the wound."

He stares for a minute, observing her. He shivers a bit. Oh, right. It's cold out.

He finally crawls closer, looking into her still eyes. He finally reaches out to touch her, gasping a bit at the first contact. She must be cold already. He traces his finger down her cheeks, down her arms, between her own fingers... Has he ever been so near a dead body?

I catch his gaze lingering on her shiny white hair. "Would you like to touch it?" I ask him.

He's silent. "May I?"

I can't help but smile. "Do as you please."

This makes him grin. He takes my word as law, combing his skinny fingers through the silky white mess fanned around her head. It nearly blends into the snowy ground. He then sits back next to me, and we both stare again.

Her red lips tempt me. I bet I could almost pull her soul right between those delicate petals. But I don't want to alter her yet. Not with him right here. He doesn't even fully understand. If I could just crack a limb, or a rib... But I'll wait.

He shivers again. I'm worried for him. "Are you cold?"

He shakes his head. "It's ok."

I move closer to him. "May I give you a hug?"

There's a moment of quiet as he weighs his options, watching my expression of yearning. Our physical contact is always constrained, always swift. I would like to hug him, just this once. While we're alone, out here, our only witness a dead woman. I feel that familiar heat rise to my cheeks. I can't help but think about how romantic all of this is.

He giggles ever so slightly. "Of course."

I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding and wring my arms around his waist, pulling him closer to me. It takes him a few seconds, but he eventually reciprocates, snaking his frail arms around me and resting his pointy chin on my collarbone. He's so delicate. I could almost.... just....

No. I love him. He's not like her.

"I'm sorry." I say to him, although I know he can't hear my thoughts. I protect them too well.

I feel him release some of his tension. "It'll be alright."

And we stand there, grasping tightly to each other's warmth, until we're both on the edges of sleep and the pool of quickly cooling blood reaches our feet.