Sightseeing Again
somewhere.
Snow crackles under heavy footprints, snapping and contorting into odd sinkholes and divets. More falls atop it, in flurries and waves, trying to mend itself, repair the damage the unknown object has forced upon it. Frosted wind bites at the man as he walks, hunched ever so slightly to avoid the brunt of the cold.
Gloved hands slide out of their caves, up, meet with a warm cloud of air that he blows through chapped lips. He sniffles a little, a mix of sorrow and chilled bones. But his feet carry on in their motions, stumbling now and then on the ice patches that surround him in the frozen wasteland.
"It's calming. Freeing almost, don't you think?"
The blonde looks up inquisitively from his laid back position. Mossy ground tickles the back of his neck, and he scrunches his nose and rises to the seated stance of his companion. "What is?" he asks, running the back of his hand across his face.
"I don't know... The air, breathing, seeing all this, I guess," the other man sighs, the corners of his eyes turning up into their own kind of smile. "I love seeing things, breathing them in."
He stands, with his back to the wind now, maybe unsure of where to go next. Maybe unsure of even where he came from. His footprints have washed away into the white by now, and his eyes couldn't seem to find them even if they indeed wanted to see them.They hold a tinge of forgetfulness, and a dash of remorse. Lashes blink over the soft browns slowly, like they too are fighting the urge to give up.
"Will you come here again with me sometimes? Or maybe without me too, because it's a good place to be free all by yourself too. But, with me," he turns his head, smile lighting up his face, to face the delicate blonde.
For a moment, it lingers in the air, seeps in through his mind, and rattles around there while he tries to process and formulate a response. Wonders if he needs to say anything or if the answer is already out there, already running through the brunette's mind. "Yeah." He thinks a word came out, felt it melt off his lips anyways. Maybe too quiet, he thinks. "Yeah, I will," louder.
His knees are freezing, digging deeper into the snow under his weight. And a whimper escapes from his body, but he's not certain where it came from. It's cold, and there is no one there, no one close, no one. This is the hill, the grassy hill, the moss. This is the air, cold now, freezing, as he sucks it into his lungs, chokes it back out. Hands drop into the cold now too and he is giving up.
"Good. Good, that's good," the brunette whispers, leaning back onto propped up elbows.
He is recording everything: every hair that is being tossled by the breeze, every rise and fall of their chests in harmony and disarray, every note of every word coming in honey tones to his ears. And it is good. And yes, he will come here with you again. And again, and every again that would follow that. Their agains, together.
Lashes flutter open and closed, and the glove swipes across his face, wiping snot and snow. He is laying there now, cheek to the snow, heart beating slowly in his chest, but still beating.
"Even if you go without me, remember to breathe, okay?" the brunette tells him matter-of-factly.
Breathe. Right. He inhales a sharp dose of ice, exhales it, chokes a little but carries on.
"And the sky, look at the sky, because that's my favorite." The blonde looks up as instructed into the milky white clouds and smiles a little, watches them mix with pale blues as they cross over his vision. Even if you go without me... Why would he ever do that? This was their again place.
Tired browns roll upward to face the gray above him. Gray... Breathe, he instructs again, as he processes the color. No, it was definitely blue before, but now it was gray. Ugly and murky and gray. There was nothing calming about that color.
"Even if I don't go with you next time... I mean, if," he emphasizes, "Look for me. I'll be there somewhere, okay?"
The blonde mulls this over in his brain, trying to tear it apart, trying to make it make any sort of sense to him. What was the brunette saying to him?
"Just look for me," he repeats again, quieter this time.
He sits upright, shockwave running through his body from the sudden movement. Soft browns whirl around, working overtime, triple time, searching. Somewhere, he echoes through his head. He's standing now, spinning in circles, frantically trying to find somewhere. Where is it? Cold doesn't render feeling on his skin anymore, and gray doesn't cloud his eyes. And there, there off to his right in the green moss, is the brunette. And next to him the blonde, him. And their lips move slowly, beautifully, and he can hear every word in his head. And the hairs are moving just as he memorized them, the breathing still the same. And he is so confused, so lost, so... calm.
The blonde closes his eyes and lays back down in the green, breathing and picturing the sky, and feeling the boy next to him do the same. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he imprints this somewhere on the back of his brain. "Yeah," he murmurs, quiet. But he doesn't want to say it louder, so it floats between them delicately, and the blue carries it away.
He watches them quietly, fading into the gray around him. Watches their again, feels it around him. He breathes deep, breathes in the everything, the calm and freedom. Soft browns look to gray-blue sky, and he breathes in their again.
Gloved hands slide out of their caves, up, meet with a warm cloud of air that he blows through chapped lips. He sniffles a little, a mix of sorrow and chilled bones. But his feet carry on in their motions, stumbling now and then on the ice patches that surround him in the frozen wasteland.
"It's calming. Freeing almost, don't you think?"
The blonde looks up inquisitively from his laid back position. Mossy ground tickles the back of his neck, and he scrunches his nose and rises to the seated stance of his companion. "What is?" he asks, running the back of his hand across his face.
"I don't know... The air, breathing, seeing all this, I guess," the other man sighs, the corners of his eyes turning up into their own kind of smile. "I love seeing things, breathing them in."
He stands, with his back to the wind now, maybe unsure of where to go next. Maybe unsure of even where he came from. His footprints have washed away into the white by now, and his eyes couldn't seem to find them even if they indeed wanted to see them.They hold a tinge of forgetfulness, and a dash of remorse. Lashes blink over the soft browns slowly, like they too are fighting the urge to give up.
"Will you come here again with me sometimes? Or maybe without me too, because it's a good place to be free all by yourself too. But, with me," he turns his head, smile lighting up his face, to face the delicate blonde.
For a moment, it lingers in the air, seeps in through his mind, and rattles around there while he tries to process and formulate a response. Wonders if he needs to say anything or if the answer is already out there, already running through the brunette's mind. "Yeah." He thinks a word came out, felt it melt off his lips anyways. Maybe too quiet, he thinks. "Yeah, I will," louder.
His knees are freezing, digging deeper into the snow under his weight. And a whimper escapes from his body, but he's not certain where it came from. It's cold, and there is no one there, no one close, no one. This is the hill, the grassy hill, the moss. This is the air, cold now, freezing, as he sucks it into his lungs, chokes it back out. Hands drop into the cold now too and he is giving up.
"Good. Good, that's good," the brunette whispers, leaning back onto propped up elbows.
He is recording everything: every hair that is being tossled by the breeze, every rise and fall of their chests in harmony and disarray, every note of every word coming in honey tones to his ears. And it is good. And yes, he will come here with you again. And again, and every again that would follow that. Their agains, together.
Lashes flutter open and closed, and the glove swipes across his face, wiping snot and snow. He is laying there now, cheek to the snow, heart beating slowly in his chest, but still beating.
"Even if you go without me, remember to breathe, okay?" the brunette tells him matter-of-factly.
Breathe. Right. He inhales a sharp dose of ice, exhales it, chokes a little but carries on.
"And the sky, look at the sky, because that's my favorite." The blonde looks up as instructed into the milky white clouds and smiles a little, watches them mix with pale blues as they cross over his vision. Even if you go without me... Why would he ever do that? This was their again place.
Tired browns roll upward to face the gray above him. Gray... Breathe, he instructs again, as he processes the color. No, it was definitely blue before, but now it was gray. Ugly and murky and gray. There was nothing calming about that color.
"Even if I don't go with you next time... I mean, if," he emphasizes, "Look for me. I'll be there somewhere, okay?"
The blonde mulls this over in his brain, trying to tear it apart, trying to make it make any sort of sense to him. What was the brunette saying to him?
"Just look for me," he repeats again, quieter this time.
He sits upright, shockwave running through his body from the sudden movement. Soft browns whirl around, working overtime, triple time, searching. Somewhere, he echoes through his head. He's standing now, spinning in circles, frantically trying to find somewhere. Where is it? Cold doesn't render feeling on his skin anymore, and gray doesn't cloud his eyes. And there, there off to his right in the green moss, is the brunette. And next to him the blonde, him. And their lips move slowly, beautifully, and he can hear every word in his head. And the hairs are moving just as he memorized them, the breathing still the same. And he is so confused, so lost, so... calm.
The blonde closes his eyes and lays back down in the green, breathing and picturing the sky, and feeling the boy next to him do the same. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he imprints this somewhere on the back of his brain. "Yeah," he murmurs, quiet. But he doesn't want to say it louder, so it floats between them delicately, and the blue carries it away.
He watches them quietly, fading into the gray around him. Watches their again, feels it around him. He breathes deep, breathes in the everything, the calm and freedom. Soft browns look to gray-blue sky, and he breathes in their again.