It was cold.
Jackson was used to it.
Burgess was always frigid in the winter, but he never minded – he liked the crispness of the air and the crunch of the snow beneath his feet. The chilled wind whipped around him as he walked, blowing his snowy bleached hair around his face.
This was routine for him. Wake up, throw on his beloved blue hoodie, tug some simple jeans on, haphazardly slip on his favorite canvas sneakers, and out he went. The walk always calmed him. The cold had a way of enveloping him with a sort of chilly comfort only he and it could understand.
Making his way along the path he usually took through the woods, he noticed something different among the crystalline scenery. Flecks of black corrupted the pure white snow. Upon closer inspection, he found it to be sand. Perplexed, he veered off his usual path and followed the ebony grains until he was lead to a frozen pond. Pleasantly surprised, he stepped onto the ice. Finding that it was solid, he happily began skating across it in his sneakers. 'I'll have to bring skates with me tomorrow' he thought to himself. After an hour or so of fun, he started making his way back home, stopping to pick up a handful of the mysterious grains of sand.
"Beautiful," he murmured as he carefully dumped them into a clear glass bottle. Content with the new addition to the dozens of oddities he typically collected, he proceeded to continue with his day as usual.
He never would have dreamed he would see more of the black sand. The next morning when he was on his walk, he again noticed the black flecks in the snow, leading away from his normal trail. Intrigued, he again decided to follow. As he followed the pseudo breadcrumb trail, the grains of sand became more and more numerous until the snow he was trudging through was painted entirely black. Another hundred yards or so and he found himself in a small clearing, all the snow covered in the sand. Jackson inhaled sharply at the sight before him. A single, sable rose bloomed in the center of it all. The entire thing looked like it was made of the sand, like it would shatter the moment it was touched. Unable to resist his temptation, Jackson made his way over to it, gently plucking it by the stem. It was surprisingly light in his hands, and seemed sturdy enough to handle. A small smile found its way onto his face as he turned around and picked up another handful of sand for his bottle at home.
"Thank you."
It was almost inaudible, and Jackson didn't really know whom it was directed to, but he felt the need to say it. Whoever was the owner of the sand was giving him something to look forward to every day.
Time went by, and Jackson nearly ran out the door every morning, excited to see what the black sands had in store for him. A couple of times he was astounded to see huge sculptures made with the sand, frozen into place by the snow. And then of course there was the one time the sands led him back to the pond, and he found the ice to be carved into a kind of mosaic, the black sands fitting into the ridges and creating a stunning black on white effect. Mystified, Jackson reached a hand out to hesitantly trace one of the patterns. At the touch of his fingers, the black sand was sent scattering, shifting underneath his fingertips to form new artwork on the frozen surface. Jackson became so enthralled in his newfound canvas that he didn't notice a single shadow stretching out towards him. It wasn't until it had taken form and was standing over him that the young boy looked up. Seeing a considerably tall shadow standing over him, the snowy haired youth inhaled deeply. He studied the form closely without saying a word. It was tall. Very tall. It was thin, much like Jackson himself, but with wider shoulders and a more muscular frame. He could see the outline of somewhat disheveled hair, and suddenly had the urge to touch it. Almost subconsciously, his hand wandered forward onto the shadow, gently tracing the outline of what he assumed to be inky black tresses. The figure behind him gave an audibly content sigh, and Jackson smiled. If this mysterious entity could bring him so many moments of happiness, he was more than willing to return the favor. Ever so slowly, he skimmed his frozen fingertips along where he imagined the man's jaw line would be.
"Mmm…"
The sound of the man's voice sent shivers down Jackson's spine. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to hear more, not caring if it was actual words or more whispered murmers. Growing bolder, he crouched over the man's shadow, placing his hands on either side of the it's shoulders. Slowly, so as not to startle the man, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to the icy surface of the pond. It was chaste and lasted only a second, but when Jackson pulled away, he could feel a crimson blush painted across his cheeks. He watched the figure beneath him intently for any reaction. He was about to speak and ask if the man was alright when he saw the shadow reach up to where Jack and his lips had met.
"Thank you."
Jack's breath caught in his chest at the sound of the man's voice. Deep, smooth, lightly accented… He turned around to face him, but in that instant the mystery man was gone. Jackson stood alone beside his pond, left to ponder what had just occurred.