Her eyes are like fire, although their color is blue as ice. Fitting, one would suppose, for the girl who wields flames like an extension of her being, a physical part of her own soul. She dances gracefully with them when she calls them forth, treating her control over the flames as a game – they answer her like eager puppies, more than willing to do as she asks. She uses them with deadly precision, the flames that inhabit her, she makes them sing and roar as they race for her target.

She has a temper to match, a temper as explosive and unpredictable as a newly-lit bottle rocket. The fuse is short and the result is a terrible burst of color and energy that is also strange and haunting to watch. She is a proud creature, one too haughty to admit when she's wrong, so smug when she's right. She's not afraid to use her surprising strength whenever necessary – and not. Her life is a whirlwind of color and love and strength and beauty and he loves her for it.

His eyes are nothing special – an unusual color, perhaps, but otherwise uninteresting, in his opinion. He frames them in black, dresses in black, basically lives his whole life as one black plane of existence. He spends his time inside, tinkering, building, creating. He has few friends but doesn't realize it; surrounded by one's own creations, it is difficult to consider oneself lonely in any traditional sense of the word.

His goals are simple, his motives clear, his thinking precise and methodical. He's smarter than he's given credit for, and he knows it. He doesn't really care, not much, anyway. Not anymore. He knows his intelligence, and that's enough for him. He's stubborn, a bit like a child, and determined. No matter how far he falls, he picks himself up again. Everyone knows he'll just keep trying. Perhaps they take it for granted, making it even more surprising when he wins. When he does win, it makes him all the more surer his luck will be even better next time. His life is a bubble of determination and intelligence and darkness and creation and she loves him for it.

He can see the fire in her eyes when she looks at him, feel the flames in her soul when she talks to him and kisses his pale lips. How she ever fell for someone like him, he'll never understand. But he is never going to complain. Why would he? She is the confidence to his cowardice, the light to his darkness, the strength to his weakness. She's too good for him, they both know that. But maybe, just maybe, if neither of them says anything, it just won't be true anymore. Because he knows he can't live without her, and she knows she would have no reason to without him. They need each other, more than they will admit, but perhaps it's better that way.

When you find a light in your life, you don't snuff it out.

You let it shine.

...

A drabble of sorts – I don't really know how long a drabble's supposed to be, so I'm not sure if this qualifies. Not my best work, but I was feeling the need to write something, anything, and this is what popped out.

Enjoy.