Summerless Days
Of course his favorite season is Winter. Why wouldn't it be? He loved everything about it, from its icy cold temperatures to the lack of anything but children outside - and even they stayed inside most of the time here in Iccirus. He grinned knowingly. The solitude of the season was amazing. He could feel the frigid winds brush against his bare skin, making him shiver. His blood ran cold in his veins and he wouldn't have it any other way. He would live out his Summerless Days in solitude, just the way a man with a icy cold heart enjoyed it.
But this was during Winter. His least favorite season was Summer, where the heat thawed his blood and his heart. He felt a panic at this. It was emotion induced by the season, and emotion was one of his least favorite things. The only emotion he liked the feel of was loneliness, and he hated whoever objected it. Particularly that girl. That odd, odd girl from Opelucid City who visited him every single summer, rushing into his cave with energy that only a child her age could have. She would approach him and get into his face, her head swinging from side to side, tossing her long blue hair. He would place a hand on her dark cheek and shake his head as well.
"Dear Iris," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I feel perfect when I am alone. There is no one to judge me. There is no one to hate me. There is no pain in solitude."
The girl called Iris shook her head adamantly. "But there's also no enjoyment! There's no happiness, there's no fun, there's nothing positive! How you can stay inside an icy cave all Summer is beyond me, Brycen."
Brycen smiled his knowing smile, finding the expression in her child's eyes of sheer emotion a mix of beautiful and disheartening. "Of course, of course. Now please leave me be."
Iris would stomp her foot into the ice beneath, not denting it a bit. Her breath blew out in large visible clouds. "Brycen, you're coming outside with me! I don't care what you say!"
She would lunge forward and attempt to grab him by the arm, but it proved fruitless for her. He slipped across the ice with expertise, drawing a pocket knife he kept. It always was the same: she saw the knife, pouted and left.
But this day was a different one. She caught herself falling forward, twisting her legs and kicked the pocket knife right out of his hand. He gasped out his shock, and she landed perfectly on the ice in front of him. She pulled herself in close to him. "Brycen, don't be afraid to love."
The girl was fourteen, and he was in his forties. But the moment felt right. She forced herself closer, hugging him tightly, and suddenly he felt that all was right with the world.
He would no longer live out his Summerless Days; nor his loveless ones.