It took Jack a while, but eventually he learned that trying to keep hold of Lacie was like trying to preserve snowflakes one by one. She settled briefly on his fingers, all unique pristine beauty, until he blinked and she dripped away.

Before he could help himself, he became one of her numerous devotees. And she knew it. They all knew. They could see it in his gentle moss green eyes, when they inconspicuously trailed after her every movement, tracing from her fingers, up her delicate white wrists, to her slightly protruding collarbone. They saw it in the way he angled himself, always behind her, beside her, but never in front of her.

He always wanted to be in the position to be able to look readily into her eyes, see.

If he stood behind her and called her name, she would crane her long, elegant neck ever so slightly, just enough to look at him and keep her pace, and offer him a quicksilver smile. Her eyes open wide, boring into him.

However his preferred positioning was, naturally, right beside her. Sometimes their elbows would brush, or her shoulder would nonchalantly press into his arm, and he would feel the breath whoosh out of him in a dramatic flurry. Her delicacy tore him to shreds. And if he was sneaky enough (he usually was, but everything note worthy he'd learnt since introducing himself into society, had been courtesy of Lacie herself) he could catch glimpses of her glittering crimson's while she had her attention divided. He could bask in her mysterious, fickle, childish pulse as much as he pleased, and she'd be none the wiser.

Unless, of course, she caught him in the act.

His punishments weren't usually too severe. A gentle admonishment. A few urges to look elsewhere, admire another woman, look – what a beauty!, but Jack only smiled his deceptive smile and disregarded that particular encouragement.

Other women made him sick.

But Lacie. Lacie – who was almost like an Abyss all on her own. All tarot cards and enigma's and chessboards as she was.

Lacie.

To hold onto her was impossible, lest he break her wings.

To watch her forever was not enough, lest he loose his sight.

To devour her, swallow her whole, treasure her inside his broken body and call her mine and become her world as she had became his…

Jack flattened his palms, shoulders hunched against the chill, and watched, fascinated, as hundreds of miniscule flakes sprinkled his fur mitts. The tiny innocents faded almost immediately after their unobtrusive landing.

A wealth of laughter bubbled between his lips, frighteningly high strung, perhaps just a tad hysterical. The obese snow clouds cupped the sky softly, and seemed to shiver when the echoes of his glee spiraled higher and higher.

"I've caught you!"

But, alas, her wings had already been snipped clean, and he was left holding onto nothing but plucked feathers and melting snow.

Gone before he could say goodbye.

thank you for reading~