Fall
She loved fall. The way the crisp, dry leaves fell from the trees in a swirling, dizzying pattern of vibrant reds, yellows, golds and oranges, the way the air blew a cold, gentle breeze against her face, pushing back strands of her scarlet hair, the way the sky was almost always a beautiful, clear blue, the sun casting a soft glow on everything without shedding its harsh, blinding rays.
On this particular autumn day, she walked briskly home, shivering as she kept her hands tucked tightly in the voluminous folds of her coat, each breath turning into a small, faint plume of white before her. She kept her gaze down on the concrete pavement, eyes barely taking in the cracks in the sidewalk, the green weeds poking their way through the crevices in the cement. As much as she loved the fall, today was not a good day for slow walks; she had left her gloves at home, and was eager to take refuge in the cozy house.
"Hino," a familiar voice called from behind her.
Her heartbeat quickened and a slight flush spread across her face. She whipped around. There he was. He looked particularly handsome that afternoon, the wind ruffling his normally combed blue locks. Strands of cerulean fell across his clear forehead, obscuring his caramel-colored eyes.
"Tsukimori-kun," she breathed. Her hands fell to her sides, and he noticed immediately.
"Your hands," he frowned.
"I-I forgot my gloves at home."
In two long strides, he crossed the distance between them and pulled off his own leather gloves. He gently took her hands in his, and both their pulses quickened at each other's touch. She quickly pulled her hands away, even though inside, her heart screamed to never let him go.
"I-ie, Tsukimori-kun," she stammered.
"Your hands," he said quietly in equal measures of coolness and concern, "are your treasures." He gently took them back and continued. "The cold isn't good for them. How will you play the violin?" Gently, he slipped her right hand into his black glove, and did the same with the other, never looking into her eyes as he did this.
"Your hands are more important than mine," she said quietly without envy.
He met her eyes and said quietly, firmly, sincerely, admiringly, "Your hands are important."
He finishes placing her hands in his gloves, but instead of letting go, he squeezes her tightly, fingers lacing through hers. She looks at him, confused, and he breaks his gaze, looking down again as he blushes.
"Let me walk you home," he says, almost inaudibly.
There was more to what he said. The unspoken words hung in the air between them. It was more than she had ever dared dream of, long for.
She loved fall.
well, how was it? Fall is my first try at writing oneshots... i was feeling la corda high, and i'm having a bit of a dry spell with winter break. i already know how the story will end, but i just don't have the right words yet...so..yeah. hope you enjoyed it! please review! ^^