Disclaimer: D N Angel belongs to Yukiru Sugisaki. This story belongs to me.
Author natterings: Haven't had one of these full blown Dark x Riku romances for a while, so I figured it was time. Inspired by Eru's White Snow MV. I don't intend on elaborating on this, so no sequel requests, please. Use your imagination! Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy.
A Trail in the White
Winter, a small road with two lanes. Slumbering aspen, birch and pine all around, their branches decorated with snow in that perfect postcard way. The sun seemed far away, not strong enough to melt the snow on the road. No ice.
Dark drove in the cold with his window open. He pushed the gas, watching the road with only half a mind. He stuck his left hand, gloved, out the window. His speed was too great to catch any flakes.
Regaining focus after a small curve, he clutched the wheel with both hands. His left hand tingled. There was no heating on. He didn't need it.
Coasting along, all alone, a white hat on his head. He raised his right hand to finger the lure that hung from his rearview mirror.
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"Dark! Come!"
"Wha-- oh, hey, you got one!" The rod was bent, a no doubt large fish on one wnd of it, the girl he loved on the other. She reeled it in valiantly- adorably. He joined her, their boots right in front of and behind each other, their shadows aligning. "Haha! Dark, stop! Your hair-- it's tickling me!" He kissed her temple. The fish was huge, almost too large to fit through the hole they had made through the ice. Still, Riku was extravagantly happy about it. She held it up with both arms like you would a log while he snapped a picture. Her smile would've been preserved in his mind if he hadn't the picture. -------- "Okay. Now where are--" "Here!" She whipped what felt like five pounds of snow at him. "Pfflbt. Ugh, God, that's cold!" He dug melting snow out from his collar, his fingers clumsy and mildly numb. She was scooping snow again. "Hey, that's not fair," he protested reasonably. She scooped just enough to balance on the shovel, her grip teetering. Her smile was wide. "Oh? And what is?" Dark smiled back at her. Then he took off in the direction of the house, upon which was leaning another shovel. "Letting me get a weapon!" "Hey!" she yelled, running after him, snow falling off of her shovel. She raised it to throw more at the exact same time he dumped snow all over her. They chased each other for the rest of the afternoon, frosting each other's hair with flakes and not getting colds.
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Dark tore the lure from the rearview but he couldn't throw it out the window. It sat on the seat next to him instead, boucing every time he hit a bump in the road.
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"Mm," he hummed in the back of his throat. His eyes opened slowly, looking into hers. "Good. But... here's how you really do it." He backed her against a tree, lips so close.
And the branches wobbled, and snow crashed onto their heads. They looked at each other for only a moment, blinking snow from their eyes, before the laughter began and they brushed each other off. -------- She stood in the dark, in front of a vending machine. The city lights were harsh on her. She was sliding coins in just when he came up, and plunked them in for her instead. A quiet look was exchanged. Then he had her backed against the machine, old love gone. He sought her lips but she turned away. "Even if you do this, what will change?" she asked of him. He let her go. He walked away. --------
He pushed the pedal harder. He didn't care if he went a hundred over the limit. He only cared about one thing.
Their kisses. Him reaching over her to help her push a book back on the shelf. She wore a white sweater that day, he didn't care or remember what he had worn. Them, together, kissing in realistic fiction, A-G.
Their kisses. Wrestling in the snow. He let her beat him, and she climbed on top of him, pinning him down in the snow. It was lumpy and cold, but she was so so warm. She smiled and tilted his chin and kissed him in the open field for a very long time.
Their kisses. Bundled together in a phone booth to seek respite from the cold. Small and cramped had never been so perfect. He took off her gloves, she took off his hat. He bent over her because of the slant in the sidewalk and because she wasn't wearing boots that day and because she had tugged on his scarf and wouldn't let go until they finished kissing and had steamed up the booth.
He pulled over.
She was standing there, her hair moving with the wind. Flakes had gathered on her shoulders. She had been waiting.
They looked at each other, just each other. Their eyes locked and the snow fell. It got to be too much that he looked at the snow at his feet.
When he looked up, she was already walking away.
She left behind her a clear set of footprints, a heartbreaking trail, for it couldn't be followed. A trail in the white.
Numb, he watched her go.