Crystal Patterns

"Wait!" He hollered behind me in which my only response was to move my feet ever faster towards home. His desperate calling was getting closer until he finally landed in front of me with a flourish of snow and a loud thud. His icicle of a nose, although there was indeed skin, turned my nose instantly frozen when they touched; the nipping at your nose now had a real life application.

"I want to talk to you," he finally said, taking a step back. He had very little regard for personal space, a concept I took great comfort in. When he stepped back, I again took a moment to relish in his appearance. His hair was a scruffy white, resembling falling snow, his eyes the gray of the moon, his lips the curve of a frozen waterfall, his skin to again match the landscape. His cheeks and nose were rosy red and his clothes were ragged, but suiting with nothing to cover his feet. However, it seemed he did very little walking for he floated across the landscape as if the wind was carrying him wherever he pleased.

"What are you looking at?" He inquired, snapping me back to attention.

"My apologies, I just have never encountered someone like you before," I responded, my cheeks turning red. I was watching him so intently that I forgot that he was not just the nature in which he so closely resembled, but a living being. (I shall refrain from the use of the word person).

"Someone like me?" He asked, a smug smile twisting his lips. "And what does that mean?"

With careful processing, I had to look through all the plausible explanations before settling on anything mythical. Jack Frost, that's foolish. Perhaps, he was simply a child not too prone to coming outside who took the name Jack Frost in a sort of mockery of his introverted nature. "An albino perhaps," I replied, quite satisfied with my answer.

"An albino?" He asked, with a look of disdain. "Natalia, you're being stupid."

Stupid? Me? I was utterly floored by such an adjective; I considered myself quite the intellect. How very bold of him to bestow upon me such an insult. "I'm stupid? Excuse me? I really don't think that's a proper way to make friends," I spat.

"Well, you are being stupid," he said casually, leaping from his spot on the ground to seemingly hover prone in mid-air. "Albinos cannot do this," he said, with a sparkle like the sun hitting ice in his eyes. "Let's be honest here, Natalia. You know very well who I am and I know very well who you are. Don't try to rationalize it or understand. Enjoy the whim of a childhood fantasy come true," he said, smiling at me.

"A fantasy is just that, a fantasy," I replied. "Besides, how can you say that you know me?" I asked, raising a brow. If there was one illogical thing I believed in, it was that of the walls people build around their hearts for I had many. It was simply to not let people because no one truly understands how I work, so why even let them try?

"I've been watching you for your entire life," he answered.

"Is that supposed to be romantic?" I asked, my voice dripping the bitterness of sarcasm. With that, I moved past him, ducking underneath his dangling feet to continue my walk home. This was a ridiculous fairytale, a waking dream since I decided to read a book all last night and not sleep much. My mind was playing tricks on me and I had to reign it back in.

I wasn't followed it seemed after that and returned home peacefully to simmer in my own confusion. Mom was asleep on the couch for she always took a nap around noon. I turned the stove on carefully and quietly so I wouldn't wake my mother. She had a very hard time letting me near the heat, I concept I didn't understand at eighteen.

"Natalia!" I heard, a sharp bark in the winter landscape, "Step away from the fire." Glancing around, I assumed it was my mystical follower and continued to attempt to light the stove. "Natalia! Please," he begged, desperation coating his voice. I turned then, feeling as if he was right behind me and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

The gas turned off then before a figure appeared in front of me; it was the boy.

"Who are you?" I finally asked, reaching out to touch his face.

He did not shrink away from me, but seemingly looked uncomfortable with human touch. My fingers made contact with the ice sheet of his cheek and the slowly turned a dull pink. His eyes fluttered shut and his hand landed on the granite countertop behind him as if restraining himself to ruin the perfect silence and innocence of the moment. A stirring from the couch brought the brilliant silver of his eyes to me again and within a blink of the eye, he was gone.

"Natalia," my mother whispered, her voice hoarse and tired. I walked over to her, she looked weary. Her eyes had sunken in with a dark circle or sleepiness surrounding them. Her usually curly locks were matte into broken turns and her glowing skin had dulled.

"Can I get you anything? I was going to make soup," I told her, gently resting my hand on her leg. She smiled softly, but even stretching those few muscles seemed to pain her. She soon closed her eyes again and shook her head; it was no wonder she was losing weight. I sighed and bit my tongue for nothing was more painful than watching your mother slip away.

"I love you," she whispered.

"You too," I said. She reached for my hand in a desperate attempt for comfort and I clasped it in mine. The sound of boots on the doorstep sounded, but she made no motion to move at the excitement of seeing my father. She just lay, her chest rising slower than what was usual.

"Honey! I'm home," he hollered, in a voice so hearty it seemed like home.

"Hi Daddy," I whispered as he joined us by the couch. He was trying so hard to make it appear that he was unaffected by my mother's exacerbating state. He watched he, brushing her cheek softly as if he was touching a porcelain doll. I stared at watching the corners of his mouth and eyes wrinkle and disappear as he attempted to control the emotion that was twisting his face.

"Hello love," he finally said, both to my mother and me.

I went to return the stove, but before I could even click it on, my father jumped up and ran over to me. "I've got it, darling," he said with a cheeky smile. I shrugged and stepped away from the stove. He began cooking the stew as I sat with mom and brushed my fingers through her hair, taking note of her paling skin and purple veins. It takes a lot to make me upset, but I felt a very small amount of emotion bubbling up inside of me. I stood, not being able to look anymore.

"I'm going outside," I finally said. This house was so full of disease, I couldn't stand sitting in it any longer. I grabbed my coat before dad could call to me and ran out the door. I wanted so badly to escape the tears that were brimming at my eyes; it was one of the worst feelings I had ever experienced. To stay in that house, was to immerse myself in the deepest torture.

I walked with my head down until I bumped in a chest, practically knocking myself over. His chest was hard, but the fabric adorning it was soft. His hand rose to my hair instinctively as the tears I felt finally splattered onto his jacket. He shushed me as we slowly fell to the ground where I shrank into his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. I didn't often seek comfort in people I didn't know, but there was something so inviting about this man that I couldn't help but to collapse into him. I didn't mean to cry. In fact, I loathe expressing emotion to those I don't know, but it was one of those situations where someone hugs you and you can no longer suppress your feelings.

We sat there as the sky turned from orange to red to pink to lavender to purple and finally to the deep dark blue that is the blanket of night. The scene around stayed illuminated by the sparkling snow reflecting the light of the moon. He was still stroking my hair even though I finished crying and we were just sitting in the perfection of a silence two people can share.

"Are you alright, Snegurochka?" He asked, finally. His hand rested in my hair as if to not allow me to move from such an intimate position. Intimate, indeed. We were so close that if his body was radiating any heat, I would have felt it (and I did not). His arms were so delicately wrapped around me that it seemed he was afraid he was going to break me or scare me off. Yet, the most soothing and intimate thing of all was my ear pressed against his chest to listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart: ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum.

"Yes," I finally answered, pulling carefully away from him to where his arms fell from my shoulders to my waist. "I'm fine, thank you." I wiped my face quickly knowing that my mascara had stained my white cheeks black and there were awkward red blotches encircling my face. He chuckled, moved a piece of hair from my face and used his thumb to wipe away the make-up. "What are you laughing at?"

"You're absolutely beautiful," he answered. Normally, I would laugh at a guy to relish in such an tender yet completely predictable and horribly cliche moment, but this was different. He said it in the most tender and honest way for their was no hidden connotation or implied agreement that I wasn't aware of. He meant it in the truest way a person would say something to another and it made my stomach flip with nerves.

"I should be going," I said, in a whisper.

His face broke into an emotion that I could not explain. "No," he answered, in a desperate whimper. "No, Natalia." It was panic that was rising in his voice, another feeling I very rarely found myself feeling. "You do not know how long I have waited for this precise moment in time. Eighteen years, darling. Eighteen years to see you, touch you, hold you and kiss you. To have you leave is to rip a piece of me again. I can't stand it," he answered, his silver eyes becoming cloudy.

Slowly, the things he said sunk it. "I don't even know you," I answered, attempting to loosen his grip on me. "This is stupid and illogical," I answered, falling to my normal front. Again, I attempted to relinquish his hold on me and free myself from his loving embrace. He tightened his grip on me as if to silence me and stop my struggles.

"Let me finish," he snapped. He stood, clasping his hand with mine. He pulled me from the ground and smiled. His eyes were crystal clear again and the playful smirk he wears returned to his features. "Better yet, let me show you." He pulled me from our spot to through the forest at a speed that I found humanly impossible.

We stopped, but before I got a good look around, he covered my eyes. "Ready?"