Disclaimer: I don't own WWE or any subdivision of the company. This means I don't own any wrestlers. Unfortunately.
Rated: T
Warnings: AU, slash, language
Before You Read: I'm so sorry I haven't posted anything in like 5 months! My old computer crashed and I just got a new one for Christmas. Hopefully I'll be updating much more often!
It happened in the same succession year after year without fail. First, the grass would stand tall and firm in the early mornings, a barrier of hardened dew surrounding each blade like a blanket. As the days flew past, morning would also bring frosted windows, so much so that only the very center of the glass would still be translucent, the rest opaque with frost. The clouds changed steadily, from fluffy and sparse to thick and dense. They engulfed the pale blue sky and kept the sun hidden. The gentle winds that had started would start to pick up, gaining confidence and in turn start whipping around frigid air. A few days of this led up to little pinpricks of ice falling softly from the thick clouds. They swirled and danced their way to the frosted window panes and the crunchy grass. Occasionally two or three intertwined and gracefully drifted down, down to the ground, meeting the ground with a delicate kiss. One could watch this scene for hours, mesmerized, as the needlepoint flakes captured their audience with ease. This would bring along a cold that came as a shock, despite having it happen every single year without fail. The earlier spectator would dig through their cabinets to find the instant hot chocolate mix they kept for weather conditions like this. Once a steamy mug rested in their hands, they'd return to gazing out their windows thankful for the warmth inside.
Then, December came around. The majestic flakes that once drifted slowly from above now grew in size, speed, and amount. Huge clumps of ice fell carelessly from the dark gray clouds and stuck to each other on the frozen ground, accumulating until one had to shovel to back out of their driveway. Some days, the temperature lingered in the 50s, giving false hope of a mild winter. Without fail, every year, this would happen. That false hope quickly twisted away into the harsh reality of 10 and 20 degree weather with snow piling on top of itself with reckless abandon. By the time Christmas rolled around, everyone was fed up with the quiet white world surrounding them and wished for anything but a white Christmas.
However, there were two souls who still looked at the snow with a childlike passion that couldn't be broken. They were met with harsh cries of confusion by their peers and sharp words intended to mock them for actually enjoying such horror, but their spirits couldn't be deterred. Year after year, they looked forward to November turning into December so the snow would pile down by the inches and they could watch with unadulterated happiness as it did so.
The tell-tale question following their proclamations of admiration for such an abomination of weather is always "Why?"
Several years ago started it all. The two men were young, just barely removed from their teens, faces still slightly rounded with childhood innocence. Phil, the kid with an attitude problem and a secret genius he was too embarrassed to admit, went on a skiing trip with his family, the last holiday trip they'd have together before he went on to college a few states away. Phil never really had a great relationship with his father or mother, and only recently started taking a liking to his younger sister, Shaylee. The boisterous announcement of their impending "bonding time" in a fire-heated cabin made Phil dry heave.
Phil, having been on numerous skiing trips before, decided he was too good to start on the Bunny Hill. He immediately trudged along, by himself, to the Black Diamond with an air of arrogance lingering behind him. The trek up the mountain proved boring, long, and almost not worth the wait. As soon as his skis hit the snow-covered mountain, though, Phil knew that the slow ride up would be made up for on his speedy descent down. Confidently, Phil lined himself up on the edge of the mountain and peered down. It looked like a straight drop down. Swallowing part of his confidence down, he gingerly pushed off, and immediately regretted that action. His feet flew from underneath him and, with a high-pitched shriek, he fell down the mountain, sometimes sliding, sometimes free-falling, for what felt like miles before he finally landed hard in a pile of snow. A tree branch snagged at his coat and he immediately felt it rip through the layers and cut into his skin roughly. A sharp intake of breath later, he found himself frozen in place. From where he was trapped, he couldn't see the trail or any other people for that matter. Nevertheless, he cried out loudly and desperately, hoping by some stroke of luck that someone could hear him and stop themselves to help him out of the snow bank.
It felt like hours passed when he heard someone call back to him.
"Is someone there?" he heard from far away.
In a slight panic, he shouted, "over here! Please help!"
"Keep talking so I can find you, okay?" the person called out.
Phil did just that, making random noises and shouting help until he saw a puffy figure emerging from a layer of bushes and trees about a hundred feet away. Grateful someone had found him, he started calling louder. The person wore a ski mask, so all Phil saw was scrunched-up blue eyes and the bridge of the nose.
"Are you okay? What happened?" the person asked as they neared closer, the skis making it hard to walk.
"I fell," Phil admitted. He struggled in trying to free himself from the snow, but found he only sunk deeper.
"Stop fighting the snow. It's like quick sand; the more you thrash around, the more it will pull you in," the person, whom Phil could now see was a young man, advised him. When he was close enough, he grabbed onto a firm tree branch and extended his hand out to Phil. He accepted gratefully and together, they freed him from the embankment.
"You saved my life," Phil stated. The guy gave a snort. "I'm Phil, what's your name?"
"I'm Chris," he answered. With a gloved hand, he pulled the ski mask down to expose the rest of his nose and his mouth. Little clouds billowed out from his mouth every time he breathed out. "I'm curious, Phil, are you on a skiing trip or are you taking a class in falling down mountains?"
Phil fixed him with a teasingly irritated look. "Neither, Chris. I was practicing how to fuck your mom in the winter when I tripped."
"Damn, that's cold," Chris said, cracking a smile. And, if Phil's heart fluttered when he saw his lips draw back, then he didn't dare acknowledge it. "Before we succumb to hypothermia, how's about we take it slow down the mountain now?"
"If you can keep up with me, that's fine," Phil said simply, causing a good-natured eye roll from the elder boy.
During the rest of Phil's trip, he spent a few afternoons with Chris conquering moderate-level slopes and choosing instead to turn a blind eye to ever attempting the Black Diamond again.
After the trip, Phil never thought he'd see Chris again in his life. However, as fate would have it, Phil began his winter semester of college abroad in Canada on the Winnipeg campus. His first class, business, included freshmen, sophomore, and junior level students of college. He arrived a few minutes early to claim a seat towards the back, to the right, with several rows in front of him. As it neared closer to the start of class, students started hurrying in, making light conversation of how warm the room was compared to the subzero temperatures outside. Some freshmen trailed in in groups, looking like a group of scared gazelles. Phil rolled his eyes at the immature act and people-watched until a tall, muscular blond entered the room looking very familiar. The guy was looking around the room for an available seat when his eyes met Phil's. When he recognized the face, his eyebrows rose and a smile set across his face immediately.
"Phil, my man! I thought you were from Chicago?" Chris asked him, excited. He gave him a soft clap on the back before setting his bag down and sitting next to Phil. "Heh, wouldn't have pictured you as the 'business' type, but I wouldn't picture myself as that either. It's good to see you!"
"Good to see you too, man," Phil offered up with a smile. "I had the opportunity to come to the Canada campus for the winter semester, so I took it. I was getting kind of bored with the Chicago campus."
"You were only there three months," Chris snorted. "Do you have any other classes today?"
"No, but I have two tomorrow afternoon," Phil told him.
"Let's hang out, then," Chris offered. "I'll show you around. You don't mind the snow or the cold, do you?"
"No, I love it," Phil assured him.
"Sweet. Do you know how ridiculous it is that these kids have grown up here and still hate the snow?" Chris stated. "You'd think they'd know what to expect by now."
A couple years later saw Chris and Phil snowed into their apartment, unable to leave. Phil's classes were cancelled and Chris' job was closed until further notice. Snow flew from the ground in a torrential mess, worse than either had ever seen before. Piles of snow completely blanketed their building. Their door wouldn't open due to the pressure of the snow against it. Their power had gone out and they were down to their last pieces of firewood keeping them warm. Last time the news had been on, there was four feet of snow outside. There was no sign of it stopping.
"It's beautiful," Chris heard Phil murmur as he caught him staring out the covered window. "It's probably going to kill us, but it's gorgeous."
"Glad to know you're so worried about us dying in here," Chris muttered. However, he opted to join his boyfriend beside the window. At the very top of the glass pane, an empty space remained for them to see outside. They couldn't see much else other than snow drifting around, dancing like it does, but somehow it calmed both of them. With snow came an unmistakable silence throughout the day and night that Phil secretly loved, and tonight proved no different. So, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Chris, they admired the snow doing what it does best and absorbing each other's presence.
Now, whenever the shocked exclamation flies from an unknowing person's lips, the two exchange a knowing glance and a soft smile before one of them, usually Phil, says "The snow holds a lot of dear memories for us". Whomever had asked the question usually leaves it at that and goes about their business, leaving the two men to look at each other with that same childlike unbridled love they first showed many years ago.
Year after year, the snow came soft, then forcefully, but always beautifully without fail. And year after year, Chris and Phil watched the changes with nostalgic smiles and soft kisses. Year after year, they remained like snow in the sense that they clung to each other and danced together softly, falling slowly from reality into each other's arms and entering a whole new world. It was as predictable as the snow, and as long as the snow continued its pattern, then so would Chris and Phil.
A/N: Please Review!