Red Snow//Renmin

Chapter one

Renjun always found snow creepy, in a way.

The silence as it waltzes from the heavens in rhythm with music only it seemed to hear, wrecking havoc the next day. The unusual white tinge that isn't quite "white" but it also isn't quite...anything. The crunch that most people would consider satisfying was too loud of a noise for something that light to make. Blanketing gasping ground in puff-pastry layers, except Renjun never saw it that way; it was more as if it were suffocating it, gently with a smile. The way mother nature would willingly kill an innocent swan with the flick of a wrist. The fact that every single speck was supposedly different, as had been drilled into his head since childhood- he never believed that, somehow. How could it be that something so unforgivingly fierce would seem to be made so lovingly?

Snow was creepy, to Renjun.

Which explained the instinctive chill he got as soon as his eyes popped open to his annoyance at early morning hours. The sun wouldn't rise any time soon. He'd be lucky if it ever rose for the next week at least. He'd be lucky if he ever rose for the next week at least- a thought he entertained quite a lot these days.

The radiator hummed away its tuneless melody, the warm light from under the bathroom door lighting up a little pathway to hell, as it usually did. Waste of electricity, but for his own sanity it was worth it.

He flipped over to his other side, nearly falling off his too-small bed whilst doing so. But he liked this bed all the same. He had to, if it were to become his coffin one day. Sighing, he stared at the blank wall opposite his bed. A mirror would look good there, but why would he ever put one there?

Everyone knows the portals only mirrors seem to know about, and how they always acted like an extra pair of ears in an otherwise empty room. Renjun always found it weird how something's surface could be so smooth that it reflected light so uniformly. And how something like that could be so delicate: he'd made that mistake years and years ago. Long story short, he needed stitches for those shard cuts. God, the pain.

One thing his radiator and the wind outside had in common, was that they were somehow both singing a certain note, but it was indistinguishable. That, and the fact that they both brought air inside his house. You'd be surprised at the politeness of the wind. Though on some days it needed some talking to in order to keep that damn door open for more than three seconds.

Renjun flipped over again, to stare at the ceiling. He really ought to get those cracks covered at some point. Would masking tape do? Paint? He really didn't know. All he knew was that the stains the leaking rain made on his wooden floors would be a pain to redo. Though to be honest, the floor was already like that when he got this house. Just that the stain was redder at the time; constant water dripping on it did some stuff to it.

He finally sat up, taking a glance around his empty room to make sure that his very limited belongings were all in order: ratchet toy box in the corner, set of drawers to cradle clothes, and why he even needed to check that clunky closet was a mystery to even him. Not as if it could go walking on its legs any day.

Darkness flooded outside, with only a single street lamp on. Somehow the council thought it would be practical to only put five on his street, and the last one was right outside his window. How convenient.

His legs begged to be stretched, so he swung out to fetch some water from the bathroom. Cold, cold water to soothe his burning head. Ah, he didn't mention that snow gave him a headache. Don't ask why.

He took a quick glance out the one tiny window by his bedroom. Grey, from the mix of dark and light. Fitting for this time of day. Or night, depending on Renjun's mood. Today, he'd say it's day.

The drain made its strangled sound as Renjun filled up a cup, still staring outside. Why the architect thought putting a window right in front of the sink, in front of a shower, was a good idea was beyond him.

The water seemed to wake him up a bit more and he coughed to life. Funny how water does that to so many things.

For fun, with the little water at the bottom of the cup, he opened the window to toss it out. Maybe it would form ice midair, he thought, as the wind welcomed itself in. He would talk to it later. But for now, he threw out the last couple drops into the snow. There was an unmistakable crackle as it hit the snow, but too loud to be made by just a bit of water. Crackle, crunch. Teeth in a pestle and mortar.

But more crunching, and some more marks in the snow. Footprints, if his eyes were correctly adjusted to the dusty light.

And humming, but not from the radiator.