Snowflakes


England was a beautiful place, if a little bit cold, compared to several other places he and his papa had lived at. It was the human's homeland, and he'd brought them here for some celebration they called "Christmas." His papa had been unable to resist the pleas, but had insisted they'd find their own place to stay…

They had been walking through a white-blanketed forest, where most animals hid in hibernation, and most plants were dead. He had nearly cried; he would have, had his papa not taken his hand in his reassuringly, and the human had warmed the other with his own too. They both smiled down at him kindly, did their best to explain about the winters he'd never gotten to see at India and China.

Then, soft plumes of white ice started falling all around them, through the frozen pine branches. Knowing they knew what it was, he had asked. The human answered: "It's called snow, too."

He looked down at his feet, buried in the cold yet soft snow, and then looked back up. "It comes from the sky?"

"Yes," his papa replied this time, violet eyes meeting his child's golden, "the snowflakes fall from the sky, at times. They then gather, becoming snow blankets on the ground and on tree branches."

"They're pretty," he innocently said, reaching out with his hand to catch some that fell.

"Indeed, pretty… and unique." His papa's eyes fixed themselves on the human's blue ones, and the blond man continued: "They might all seem alike, beyond being simple twins. Yet, upon closer inspection, you find their differences. How unique, how beautiful, and how special they are…" he trailed off, and both adults had those looks in their eyes.

Yuck! They better not kiss here! He was having fun…; they better behave. "You think so?" his papa breathlessly replied, a light blush on his cheeks. Seemed they wouldn't behave… "But who cares, really?" he chuckled and smirked. "Nobody looks at them that closely."

"I do." His papa turned his face away, his grip on his little hand tightening. "I tend to make a personal hobby in telling things that look alike apart," the human muttered to himself, glancing down at him. He knelt to an even eye-level, his free hand petting the child's short black hair. "Do you want to head back home?"

He truly wasn't asking him; he was indirectly asking his papa. "I think we should," the other adult had replied, reaching down to lift his child into his arms' warm embrace. He caressed his cheek lovingly, stubbornly averting the human's gaze, knowing his own was as dark as the night… "It's cold."


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