Well, this is the result of me trying to see if I could write a story that was entirely description. I think it's kinda pretty. I could be wrong. It's been known to happen.
Disclaimer: Don't own it. Really, if I did, would I be writing fanfiction...?
Warnings: Umm...Kinda pointless? And plotless? Not PWP, though. ::laugh:: Slight shounen-ai, maybe, if you wanna look at it that way. Maybe OOC. ::shrug::
-----Snow -----
The boy stands in a square of light cast by a not-so-distant window. His blond hair glows almost as brightly as the childlike joy that lights his face as snowflakes drift to his gloved hands. The snow on the ground reaches his ankles, and his cheeks and the tip of his nose are bitten red with cold, but he doesn't seem to care. He just looks around himself in wonder at the winter world, turquoise eyes taking it all in: the leafless trees, frosted delicately with icy crystal, the lights in houses all around that cast their warmth onto the tangible evidence of winter's cold, the untouched, perfect blanket of snow all around him, marred only by his own boot-prints. The snow falls silently, catching in his hair, making it sparkle all the more.
He tilts his head back, mouth open to the darkened sky. He struggles to keep his eyes open, stumbling after snowflakes, further marking the snow beneath his feet. The eyes slide shut, and feather-brushes of moisture touch his eyelids.
The boy looks around in surprise as the door behind him opens. He smiles delightedly at the figure silhouetted in the doorway, calling a name that is lost in the puff of steam that his breath produces. The taller figure steps from the doorway, and his features become clear. He smiles as the smaller boy runs toward him. Upon reaching the newcomer, the blue-eyed boy throws his arms around him. Laughing, the older boy returns the gesture. He ruffles the smaller boy's hair, brushing out the snow that has half-melted there, heedless of the drops that are beginning to collect in his own brown locks.
Taking the blonde's hand, the older boy leads him back to the house. The door shuts behind them, and through the heat-fogged window they can be seen shucking off coats, mittens and boots. The brunette passes a steaming mug to his companion. Both are smiling, laughing, talking.
Outside, the snow falls, noiselessly erasing their footsteps.
---owari ---
There. I'm not really sure why I wanted to write an all-description story, but I did, and there it is. It's been done before, I'm sure. Oh, well. I hope I didn't do too horribly.
Ambika-san