literature

It's Cold and I Love You...

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AnimusReach
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Literature Text

    The cold is piercing.  It stings my eyes and numbs my fingers and exposed nose, and as I huff in a mixture of reluctance and impatience, my breath billows out into a small fog.


I hurry closer as I hear you sigh, watching your breath form a cloud as if the sparkling blue-green of your eyes really is a window into a beautiful sky - as I've always thought it was - and your lips inadvertently let loose a tiny piece of it before your tongue could press it back inside of you.

    I reach to take your mitten-ed hand in mine, as you tuck your head down and hide your face with the chunky scarf your brother gave you after attempting (attempting, attempting, temping, tempting, just like you) to learn how to knit. He failed horribly if I'm going to be honest but of course I'm not going to be honest because you love your brother and he is kind and means well and you think the offending patch of material is warm and comfortable. I hate the scarf. But you're wearing it and for a moment it's very beautiful because it's on you.


I notice the distaste in your eyes as you examine my old scarf, and continue lightly pulling you toward the car. I know you've always disliked this scarf, but I also see when your eyes soften again, a look of surprising contentment in your eyes, and I can't help but smile, imagining your thoughts, likely something to do with how I make it bearable to look at. You compliment me so much, and I've never truly understood why, but sometimes, sometimes you make me believe I'm as perfect as you say I am, if only for a tiny moment.

    I break the comfortable though icy cold winterandsnow silence as we climb into the car, you choosing the passenger seat so you can change the radio at whim and will and I never have the heart to argue - "Why are we doing this again?" I can't help but notice the small smile playing at your lips as if I've told a dirty joke and you're attempting to be more mature but failing just enough that I can see.


"Are you honestly asking why we're getting a tree?" I tried to hide a smile, but I know you saw it, the twinkle in your eye giving everything away. I'm glad you play along though.

    "Well... Yes. A fake tree would be much less-" I cut off as you press your fuzz-blanketed fingers to my lips, your smile growing just as big as I imagine the tree you pick out over my choice will be, and I can't help but chuckle and quiet and nod. I say no more and I start the car, beginning the long drive as you fiddle with the radio, changing it to your choice of holiday music.


The snow continues to fall like the world outside this car is in a delicate slow motion, and inside, as the warmth begins to soothe our freezing skin and bones, you contradict the outside peace around us with your voice, singing a playfully off-tune (you sing so well, your voice can be so soothing) rendition of Let It Snow along with the radio, as if navigating the already existing amount wasn't enough. I can't help singing along.
... and things will never be the same again.

I'm glad.

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Based on I and my friend's original characters. The smaller text is Alex, the bigger more centered text is Jason, my character.
© 2014 - 2024 AnimusReach
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