𝑨𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑼𝑺 𝑴𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑰𝑨 •𝒃𝒙𝒃•

a death in the ocean would be beautiful

AN: Warning, there are some sensitive scenes up ahead.

"Let's go swimming."

One breathy laugh later, he received a reply, "Swim? Don't you hate the cold?"

That's right. He did. He hated it. The prickling sensation of frost covering his bones was unpleasant and he hated it—he hated it so, so much.

"I read that once you pass a certain level of coldness your body heats up."

A finger poked his cheek, but he felt too tired to push it away, "That's called severe hypothermia."

Severe hypothermia, eh? What a funny thing that was.

"Does that mean you don't want to swim with me?"

The bed dipped, and the early morning light was blocked by warm, honey-brown eyes, "Well, I don't want us to freeze to death—that would be a pretty bad way to go, don't you think so?" Rings of gold hung around his irises, just further accenting the various shades that swam around.

To die in freezing water?

"Not if you're with me."

The next laugh came out dry, almost humourless, "Don't say such things," A hand came to wrap around his wrist, and he could only watch as it was brought up, "I almost lost you once, I don't think I could bare the sight of such a thing again." Pale lips pressed against the inside of it, softly brushing over the jagged lines that marred it.

An unfinished canvas—that was what Yo once called them.

"They look nice on my skin, don't they?"

That was a stupid question, he knew, but he couldn't help himself.

Once again, as softly as possible, Yo's lips pressed against them, "No. They don't. They stain it—ruin it," He pulled back and his shaggy, dark hair fluttered as he titled his head, "Why'd you do it?"

That was a simple question, he knew, but he couldn't answer it.

"Hmm? Why? I don't know."

The silence was deafening, but he could clearly hear the loud echo of the lies he uttered.

The boy besides him was then above him, unblinkingly staring down at him, "You changed one day—almost if you were pretending all those other times," His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, "Were you? Pretending?"

Pretending? No, he wasn't pretending. He was hurt—he was in pain. How was he supposed to act the same when all he knew had suddenly shifted?

"No."

And then, lips covered his own. It was the same as the last time they did something like that, nothing changed. Nothing, but everything. The soft press of skin didn't mean anything to him anymore—he wasn't sure it ever meant anything—but he didn't fight against it, nor did he push Yo away. Hands gently gripped his shoulders and, in that moment, he realised. Yo was the same as he always was, so gentle. So, when he pulled away, they just stared at one another, "I know," Yo whispered, the muscles in his jaw flexing, "I can't do that anymore, I know that, but... what other way is there for me to reach you? You're so... distant now, cold."

He hated the cold.

"I'm sorry."

He despised the cold.

Yo chuckled, the dry tone of his voice not showcasing a hint of amusement, "You're not."

"I'm sorry."