Emil wasn't impressed. Why should he be? This white 'wonderland' held no wonder for him. It had been there from the moment he was born, and every day of his childhood. It wasn't a miracle, nor was it a threat. Snow was just… there.
"It's cold."
"Well, obviously."
"Hn."
"You lived in the UK for a while, didn't you? It was probably just as bad."
"Doesn't mean I enjoyed it."
The white haired boy couldn't help a smile crack on his features, watching the other as he shook the white dust out of his dark brown hair. Leon didn't show a shred of annoyance, despite his tone. His dark brown eyes were fixated at the intricate flakes that fell around them, barely following Emil. Actually, the Icelandic felt like if he walked in a different direction, the Asian wouldn't notice at all. The thought of the other crashing into a pole was amusing, but considering Leon was an extreme pyromaniac… Well, at least it wouldn't be cold.
Suddenly, Leon grabbed Emil's arm, and dragged him away from the direction of his house. "Huh, Leon…?" He got no reply. With surprising strength, Leon pulled him until they reached a railing. "The heck are you doing…?"
"Shut up, and look."
Emil frowned, and was about to make a remark, but he saw it. The captivation in his eyes. He followed their gaze, and saw what had caught his attention. It was the city, and the thin crystals that drizzled from above reflected its lights like a thousand tiny revolving mirrors. Those same crystals piled on top of each other, until a soft and pristine carpet draped on the buildings in dribs and drabs.
'It's just snow.' That's what Emil was about to say. But he looked at Leon once again. His expression was, as usual, stoic, but his eyes were wide and sparkling. He glowed with innocent fascination, and once again, the flakes began to settle like fine dust on his dark hair and his thick jacket.
Finally, Emil realized how beautiful the snow truly was.
