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Loosely based on Stephen King's novel IT characters: Benjamin Hanscom and Beverly Marsh. (ben!changbin & bev!felix)
All he knew Felix was burning red, like blazing flames in the midst of white winter.
[ bxb, fluff | 1233 w ]
note: dedicated to cheonsagateun ♡♡♡ It's a simple and short oneshot but I hope you like it. (written in english)
//
The town's library was Changbin's favorite place, a sanctuary he could almost call his own. It was an old house, a huge one, surrounded by trees and spacious green yard. The green yard, which was not so much green now that it was covered by early January snow. A set of old swings and a frozen pond decorated the plain whiteness, Changbin could almost imagine Lady Winter hovering by the pond as a vine of lacy white ice swirling from her fingertips.
Truthfully, he wasn't quite sure whether winter was a lady or not. However, he liked the idea of a pale, cold-looking woman, blowing freezing wind through the partings of her blue lips, and ice flowers blooming from her every steps.
He took one last look at the snowy yard, tightened up his coat as the cold seeped through the woollen fabric and grazed his skin. He walked into the library, warmed and welcomed by the pleasant smell of books and the wooden floor. He greeted the librarian with a polite smile, wrote down his name on the guest book then he strolled through the aisles of books, looking for something to pick up.
They got everything, almost every genre, from all over the world. If you happen to read Latin, or Greek, they've got plenty of those. Much like most people in the town, Changbin didn't read Latin or Greek so that section remained unvisited, but he loved literary works. Almost anything, classic Korean Literature or contemporaries, even Charlotte Brontë's novels when he's in the mood for those. Today he picked up Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express, not quite his type of book, but he'd love to explore.
Changbin went to the side porch and sat on his favorite spot: a wooden bench with a long wooden table and direct view to the snowy yard. It was a bit too cold to sit outside but it had been his favorite spot since forever. He couldn't care much about the cold. Besides, it was the only spot in the library where he could be all alone.
According to his classmates, he was a pretentious sixteen year-old who read thick books full of deep nonsense and enjoyed dwelling in solitude rather than playing outside with his friends—if he had any. Changbin didn't feel like a pretentious sixteen year-old though, he just happened to like books.
Books, and that distraction on the swings set over there.
The red haired boy was one of Changbin's underclassmen. He came from the southern hemisphere, Australia, just a few months ago. They passed by each other at the school's corridors a lot of times, sometimes they sat across each other in cafeteria or the school's library, but never once they had a small talk. Or an actual conversation.
Changbin wished they had talked. He should have been brave enough to initiate a conversation.
Once he heard kids from school mocking his accent and calling him a clown, because of his flaming red hair. He wondered if that was also the reason behind those sad eyes and tired face.
A clown, how ridiculous. If anything, Changbin found his red hair absolutely beautiful, like a wild blazing fire in the middle of white winter. Like embers, winter fire. He adored the boy's constellation of freckles, and the way his eyes twinkled when something poked his interest, or that little dimple on one of his cheek when his lips curled up a smile. He had observed the boy—Lee Felix, his name—for a while.
To put it simply, Changbin had a crush on him.
An actual teenage crush, in which he thought about Felix a lot and wanted to kiss him. That kind of crush.
Alas, Changbin wasn't a talker. He was a reader, an observer, a quiet admirer. It was a sheer luck that Felix even recognized him at all. The boy turned to face him, striking Changbin with a smile that sent him to space, crashed collided with everything in the galaxy and shattered to nothingness. He smiled back though, trying to ignore his racing heart. He felt like melting down into a puddle.
Awkward. Changbin was extremely awkward and Felix was extremely beautiful—which was an understatement. Nevermind. He came here to read a book so that's what he should be doing: reading.
Clearing his throat, Changbin went back to Hercule Poirot and Orient Express. Damn, he forgot his last line. The small letters and zero line spacing of this edition wasn't helping at all. As his eyes scanned through the pages looking for where he had left the story, Felix came to his mind again.
He ended up abandoning the book to watch Felix swinging slowly on the old rickety swings set, his red hair reflected the faint glimmer of winter sun, blown by the gentle breeze.
Like embers, winter fire.
It reminded him of a poem he had found in a book before. A poem which fit Felix perfectly. He pulled out a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket and a plain looking pen. He wrote down the words the way he'd remembered them.
//
Felix came to school early that day, walking through the empty corridors while facing down, tiles and tiles of white floors filled his eyes. He liked school back in Australia, not here though. School sucked here. People were so mean just because he was slightly different. He had turned fifteen a few months ago, being fifteen didn't stop him from crying out of frustration and it certainly didn't stop the world from being cruel towards him.
During those hard times he tried to remember what his mother had told him: the world may be cruel but you have to be kind. There will always be unkind people out there, but that doesn't mean you should be one yourself.
If he could be kind to the world, maybe the world would return his kindness.
The classroom was empty too when he entered. Felix put his backpack on his seat, then he went to the back of the class. He wanted to retrieve a few things he had left on his locker last week. It took him a solid one minute to open the metal box for the combination codes somehow slipped off his mind, again.
A piece of paper flew from his locker when he managed to open the door, it landed softly on the floor right next to his black shoes. Picking up the paper, Felix noticed it was a bit crumpled. It had a short note on it, written in a faded black ink and a rather messy handwriting. Messy but still readable.
Your hair is winter fire, January embers. My heart burns there, too.
ps. not my own masterpiece but it is indeed a masterpiece like you are. (sorry that's a bit cheesy) have a lovely day, Felix.
my heart did burn, figuratively.
As cheesy as it was, Felix found himself reading the note over and over again. It was the nicest thing someone had ever said to him, and the thought that anyone would dedicate such a lovely poem for him warmed his heart a little.
For the first time in a few months, he started his day with a wide happy smile on his face. Little did he know, someone was smiling along with him behind the classroom door.
