Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.
I've been writing a lot of flash fiction lately for classes, so for a friend's (late) birthday gift I wrote this flash fic with 2p!America and England.
Gold from Pyrite
Smoke billowed in his lungs, coating the slick, stone-colored walls. Patches of pitch and smears of snow stretched across the twin organs, but he didn't care.
The smoke fled from between his lips. Like steam, the smoke clouded and shaded the pale ground from the night sky. The pyrite light still shined through despite its displacement. The smoke dissipated, and, as a shield, was useless. Some sort of smirk played on his lips before failing and falling.
The night sky, though clear and blank as sharks' eyes, soaked in space's dark matter at a rate that engulfed him. The white paper cylinder rested in his mouth, poking out just enough to remain visible. Its warm, ruby tip glowed from the periodic inhalations. He didn't dare breathe in any of that space matter—any of that black blank. It had to be bad for him, he supposed. He'd swallow it. Choke on it. Cough it back up. Inhale it again only to have his lungs matted with the stars of the universe, filling him with falsely glittering pyrite.
A voice called from behind the screen. "Al," it begged, "come back inside; it's freezing out." It strained around its user's breath, and like a blown bubble, it threatened to pop if prodded.
Al didn't respond. He favored staring down at the worn, wooden boards beneath his bare feet with his hands buried deep in his pajama pockets. It was better outside. Quiet. Dark, save for that flickering porch light. Wrinkles creased Al's face as they would had he sucked down a shot of vodka.
The metal latch whined underneath the insider's grip. Al could practically feel Arthur's eyes map his posture. On cue, his muscles twitched and locked down in a position he assumed to be natural. He radiated relaxation just as well as a caught child with his nails scraping the bottom of the cookie jar.
"Al—"
"It's cool," he murmured around the cigarette before resting his fingers against it and pulling it from his lips. The thought of dragon's breath scraped at the back of his mind as the smoke swam into the open, night sky. "Close the door and get a blanket if you're so cold."
An animal's howl struggled to reach the moon in a suspended note of desperation.
Arthur's footsteps receded, traveled around their home's first floor, and returned sounding of rubber soles. The screen door creaked in protest at the same time Al threw his cigarette butt in a perfect arch out over the untouched blanket of snow. He blew his last dose out as if it'd set his lungs aflame.
Arthur's body rested by Al's. The touch was only passionate enough to indicate his presence. Arthur wore his long coat, the one he said was warm if only to avoid going through the trouble of buying another one.
"Those boots're for rain," Al said.
"Snow's water and so is rain," Arthur reasoned.
They breathed in nature's dark matter and exhaled colorless air. Al's chest rose and fell in an attempted pattern. In. Out— In. In. In— Out. In. Lightening was more consistent in its targets. Arthur, though his chin, cheeks, and nose were buried in a thick, pearl-colored scarf, took in long breaths. If Al had to guess his status based on the sounds of his breaths, he'd guess that Arthur had died.
"Aren't you cold?" Arthur asked.
"Nah."
"You're not even wearing a coat."
"Yeah, I know. Cold keeps me up. Keeps me limber."
"It's three in the morning."
"Yeah, well." Al's words didn't die on his lips so much as wandered away in favor of finding something more interesting to talk about. The expanse of space fed on their clouds of unspoken words.
Arthur rested his fingers on Al's goose-pimpled arm before taking in a surprised gasp. "You're freezing!" Curses bubbled under Arthur's breath as he gripped Al's left hand, fully intending to drag him inside.
Al pulled Arthur's hand, yanking the other into his arms. He slid his chin between the folds of Arthur's scarf and Arthur's burning cheek. His umber eyes scanned the untouched snow as he stood on the pine wood porch. The ring circling Al's finger rested in Arthur's hand as Arthur's own ring shimmered with life for every time the porch light rested its flicker.
Arthur's gold glimmered in the pyrite light before the shadow of his pearl-colored scarf snuffed it.