Contrasting.

4:00 AM and nineteen seconds – you're hopefully still asleep, it's been quite some time since I crawled out of the safe bed you've so perfectly made (the stark white sheets are of course now entangled in your limbs). The weather's merciful this morning but the wooden floor of the balcony's icy cold to spoiled feet, in a few minutes I don't mind it.

Frost hangs off bare tree branches; the simple pulchritude of it compels me to stay in the coldness, white puffs of breath appearing by my mouth every now and then. Leaning over, a small cluster of sparrows look up at me in surprise. Snowflakes glisten on their feathers and the thin nest they've made is pitiful, their chirping's feeble and I can see myself reflected, pale and looking slightly indignant, in eight round black eyes.

"Neji."

Your voice surprises me for a second, it's shy and hesitant, it takes me a moment to recognize that yes – it's yours and that you are, yes, most definitely awake. From the doorway, I can only see a milky arm, intricate bones that I can imagine so easily crushing, it's yours and it's beckoning for me, wanting me to hold onto those thin, thin fingers. You haven't been this bold with me in ages, I don't want to take it (I don't want to be your fool), it's too melancholy, and the inside of our bedroom is too warm with once-sleeping bodies.

"Neji?"

You turn slowly in the bed, working the covers around you, and two pairs of colorless eyes stare at each other. After a few seconds, yours wavers and you mumble something inaudible into a pillow. Strands of dark hair spill on an exposed shoulder, and I can almost see the unsaid words hang heavy in the air, adding to the heat in the room. I can imagine your skin, bruised in places from practicing too hard, the same temperature as summer. Outside, the sparrows continue to chirp, but it's much too soft for you to hear, and I leave them for the warmth of our own nest, choosing it instead of the frigid quietude.

"I'm here."

And all that we built

And all that we breathed

And all that we spilt

Or pulled up like weeds

Is piled up in back

And it burns irrevocably,

And we spoke up in turns

'Til the silence crept over me

And bless you

And I deeply do

No longer resolute

Oh, when I call to you