Status: comments=updates always<3
Red Snow
warum jetzt? warum hier?
Snow is an odd boy. But very cute. Usually, I do not find myself attracted to someone in any other way but physically. And now with Snow all I want to do is hold him gently to my chest and feel his heartbeat. I want to know why he does not talk and why he has so many scars. I want to know Snow better than anyone else; know his deepest secrets and covet each one. I want to hear his voice.
I am pushed from my thoughts when soft fingers hesitantly grab my hand. I focus my eyes and see that a frail china hand is holding on to my own. Making mine look like a leathery tanned bear's paw. I look up more to see Snow, a soft pink dusting his cheeks as he leads me down a hallway, which leads to stairs. I must have been going the wrong way.
When we are both walking in the correct direction, Snow still does not let go of my hand. But I am not going to complain, let alone pull away. I like the feeling in my stomach this gives me. Like I am warm, and there is heat slowly twisting its way around my body. I hide the smile that is coming on to my face with my hair.
This is not supposed to happen to me. America, I thought, was going to be a shitty hell hole. But here I am-holding hands with a fragile boy named Schnee who I have only met not even an hour ago. And he is making me happy.
"Schnee, du bist so ein seltsames Ding zu mir" I whisper at him.
As we turn the last time into the art classroom, he softly drops my hand and gives me an odd look.
And like that the moment is gone. My frown returns and I slouch back down, pretending to not be as tall as I really am. I want to leave this place now. I want to go back home to my 'friends' in Deutchland and get completely shit-faced and fuck some boy with a tight ass hard before passing out in a strangers house. And wake up the next morning with a terrible headache that only pot can fix. And then go to school with a water bottle full of vodka and not remember anything. Why the hell am I here.
Snow smoothly slips through the rows of desks to a table near the back. Not knowing what else to do, I follow him. Snow sits in one chair and quickly takes out a notebook and blue pen.
-I don't sit with anyone in this class, so you can sit with me-
I nod, mildly grateful, and slump down in the seat next to him. I cannot decide if I want to be sober or not and it is frustrating me very much.
I let out a long breath as the teacher walks in, a young Asian woman who is dressed strangely and has dark blue hair. She begins speaking to the class in English and I quickly ignore her. I have no wish to understand what is probably useless babble.
Thankfully, I am not forced to speak again and look over at what Schnee is working on. It is a large sheet of paper, but it is almost filled. It is amazingly detailed. I could look at this all day.
In one corner, I am surprised to find a small but violent seen. There is a small child in the winter crying while shadows pull at his arms and legs, blood already on the snow.
I turn to look at the peaceful seeming boy. I wonder if he likes it rough...I do.
Later in the class, the teacher comes over to me and does her best to explain what they are doing in class. I think that they are simply drawing on large sheets of paper, but whatever they want. I'm not a great artist, but I take the paper she hands to me and just start doodling, hoping that it will eventually cover the paper. It will never be as amazing as what Snow is creating though.
When the bell rings, I ask Snow in broken speaking to show me where my next class is please. He nods, blushing a little and I follow him out of the classroom and up the stairs again.
I am pushed from my thoughts when soft fingers hesitantly grab my hand. I focus my eyes and see that a frail china hand is holding on to my own. Making mine look like a leathery tanned bear's paw. I look up more to see Snow, a soft pink dusting his cheeks as he leads me down a hallway, which leads to stairs. I must have been going the wrong way.
When we are both walking in the correct direction, Snow still does not let go of my hand. But I am not going to complain, let alone pull away. I like the feeling in my stomach this gives me. Like I am warm, and there is heat slowly twisting its way around my body. I hide the smile that is coming on to my face with my hair.
This is not supposed to happen to me. America, I thought, was going to be a shitty hell hole. But here I am-holding hands with a fragile boy named Schnee who I have only met not even an hour ago. And he is making me happy.
"Schnee, du bist so ein seltsames Ding zu mir" I whisper at him.
As we turn the last time into the art classroom, he softly drops my hand and gives me an odd look.
And like that the moment is gone. My frown returns and I slouch back down, pretending to not be as tall as I really am. I want to leave this place now. I want to go back home to my 'friends' in Deutchland and get completely shit-faced and fuck some boy with a tight ass hard before passing out in a strangers house. And wake up the next morning with a terrible headache that only pot can fix. And then go to school with a water bottle full of vodka and not remember anything. Why the hell am I here.
Snow smoothly slips through the rows of desks to a table near the back. Not knowing what else to do, I follow him. Snow sits in one chair and quickly takes out a notebook and blue pen.
-I don't sit with anyone in this class, so you can sit with me-
I nod, mildly grateful, and slump down in the seat next to him. I cannot decide if I want to be sober or not and it is frustrating me very much.
I let out a long breath as the teacher walks in, a young Asian woman who is dressed strangely and has dark blue hair. She begins speaking to the class in English and I quickly ignore her. I have no wish to understand what is probably useless babble.
Thankfully, I am not forced to speak again and look over at what Schnee is working on. It is a large sheet of paper, but it is almost filled. It is amazingly detailed. I could look at this all day.
In one corner, I am surprised to find a small but violent seen. There is a small child in the winter crying while shadows pull at his arms and legs, blood already on the snow.
I turn to look at the peaceful seeming boy. I wonder if he likes it rough...I do.
Later in the class, the teacher comes over to me and does her best to explain what they are doing in class. I think that they are simply drawing on large sheets of paper, but whatever they want. I'm not a great artist, but I take the paper she hands to me and just start doodling, hoping that it will eventually cover the paper. It will never be as amazing as what Snow is creating though.
When the bell rings, I ask Snow in broken speaking to show me where my next class is please. He nods, blushing a little and I follow him out of the classroom and up the stairs again.
♠ ♠ ♠
Schnee, du bist so ein seltsames Ding zu mir- Snow, you are such a strange thing to me.Sorry for the sometimes strange semantics! I'm attempting to write how I think Luca would sound if he was doing his best to write in English... This is sort of how the German-exchange students sound, so I'm assuming that it is fairly close. Anyhow, thank you very much to:
iiEmptyx3 and Chuku !
I really appreciate the support for this story. After this weekend, I'm not sure how often updates will come, but I'll do my best! I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed writing and such:]
comments=updates;)
XO
helpme-helpme-wontyou
ps: I've got a tumblr- it's right up there ^ It's a bit odd- not guna lie, but hey, if you don't have a problem with self-harm stuff once in a while, and plenty of NSFW (OK, not alot, but you've been warned!) feel free to check it out. Also that's a good place to talk to me if you so choose...god knows why you'd wana X]