Spring
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Naruto.
She was the wind
She was the wind. The cool breeze that whipped softly across your cheeks and just lifted the tips of your hair off your shoulders. She was the sun. The gentle, pressing rays that swept a golden light on your skin, and warmed you to the tips of your fingers. She was the grass. The surrounding green plush that just tickled your toes and swept around you in a vast expansion, embracing you and drawing you in. She was the bloom. A light, smiling blossom that brushed your fingers with an ethereal softness.
She was spring.
She was that light touch, that soft kiss. That heartening word, and the sunrise slipping to warm your cold skin.
She was inexplicable, irreplaceable, and unreachable.
Because he was the storm. The twisting, tunneling, writhing blackness that pulled you under before you had the chance to take a deep breath. He was the moon. The waning strip of luminosity that hid beneath the clouds on a black night. He was the rock. The harsh, sharp, biting rock that ripped into your skin and sifted painstakingly into the layers of your flesh. He was the withered. The lifeless blossom, the crisp leaves, the bare branches that drooped dead from the tree.
He was winter.
And he knew that her soft warmth could not survive in his harsh chill. Her fragile blossoms would fall dead in his crisp, curling grasp. He knew this. But somehow, he couldn't transfer his wisdom to her. She simply would not listen.
Every time he told her, "I cannot love you," she laughed, brushed his words off into the air, and replied, "I know."
But his refusals did not discourage her. She returned, just like the spring. She did not force her love in on him. There was no suffocation, no frenzy of passion that left him dying under the sheets. Just this calm air, this gentle pressing of genuine love that embraced him coolly and tenderly dipped dimples into his cheeks. A love that slipped unnoticed into his vacant eyes and filled the black, cold voids in him with warmth.
And whenever she left, the love did not. It was like the smell outside of a bakery, the sweet, soft scent of baking bread. Bread that would nourish and satisfy, long after every morsel was gone from the loaf.
She was everything good. Everything wholesome and sweet. He found in her a strange purity, which for all her faults, pushed her even closer to perfection.
Well, no. She wasn't perfect in every way. She ate her ramen noodles in one big slurp, and was always forgetting to wear socks on cold days. She attracted the flu like light attracted moths, and her short, wispy locks were always hanging in her face, caught on her soft lips or her tangled eyelashes.
And yet, all those imperfections made her more perfect. More like spring. Because although spring nourished and brought life to what the harsh winters couldn't, the air was sometimes too humid, and the rain was sometimes too hard. But that made its allure, its ardent breezes and bursting blooms all the more precious.
And every time she told him, "I will not force you to love me," he nodded, and felt those dimples deepening, and replied, "You don't have to."
And although, like the winter, he was usually cold and dissonant, there were those days when the sun shone on him and warmed his chilled words. And those days when her warm breezes and anticipating blooms burst in him, and his silver white winter melted into her spring.
And just like winter, and just like spring, they gave and they took, and they nourished and they withered, and they grew and they fell.
And just like winter, and just like spring, they never left each other's side.
A short, 600 word drabble with the cheesiest ending in the history of fanfiction... I hope you liked it!! Did anyone catch my jab at "The Sound of Music"? Bahaha... probably not... Well, anyways, this is the first... something I've written in a while. Please review! Oh, and sorry if I made any grammer mistakes, or spelled something wrong or a word is missing. I'm prone to that sort of thing.
Once again, please review! And constructive critisicm is always appreciated!
eb.
