He was fire.
When they first met, he burned like an uncontrollable bushfire. He was zealous and alluring and beautiful, but he was also unyielding and dangerous and repellent. Her classmates oohed and aahed at the magnificence of his blaze as he charred the trees around him. She, however, was more vigilant. All she saw was the destruction and pain he wrought on any he deemed deserving of punishment – or, rather, not deserving of exculpation. And, to her, that overshadowed even the prettiest of dancing light shows.
By their seventh year, the flames had settled until he was more of a bonfire. He was still passionate and warm and enticing, but the perils of getting too close had all but faded; the possibility of being burned by his carelessness or maliciousness was, while still present, only slight. The dancing tendrils of flame were still a sight to behold. While they were, perhaps, not as flamboyant as they had once been, they had an undercurrent of authenticity that made them all the more compelling. Remembering the raging inferno he'd once been, she fought against the burgeoning attraction, but she eventually caved in and stepped into the warm halo of his influence.
Then darkness fell upon them like a mourning shroud, rendering public displays of light perilous, but he kept burning steadily like a candle of hope piercing through the shadows of their little cottage. His single flame flickered all over the place in its desire to break free of its glass confines and return to what it once was, but it still saw them both through the night. Whenever the devastating dimness threatened to overwhelm them, he was there to chase it away with humour and mirth. So, together, they survived.
She was air.
When they first met, she was like a fresh breeze. Their world was tense and antiquated and ridden with pollution, but she was lithe and liberal and clean. In many ways, she was the opposite of everything he'd come to expect. She made an effort to learn their customs, yet she seemed to flip them over and subvert them as if they were mere leaves drifting along in her presence. Her willingness to flitter around as she saw fit irked him when it came to her decision to maintain friendships with people he would deem unacceptable company, but she was, on the whole, utterly invigorating.
Their fifth year was the first time he truly saw her spiral into the raging tempest he quickly learned she could be. Everyone steered clear of the violent winds that seemed to surround them as her words brutally pelted him with hail. The verbal projectiles were hard and sharp and icy against his skin, and he almost buckled under the weight of the onslaught. He brushed it off as baseless hormonal fury, but part of him knew that she was right and her swirling ire was justified. It took a lot to truly infuriate her, but he seemed prone to accidentally happening across a way to incite gales.
Then darkness fell upon the land and threatened to suffocate them under its weight, but she, despite being beaten down until she was reduced to the very essence of herself, persevered and became like oxygen to him. No matter how trying their ordeals, she stayed steady, like a never-ending ode to perseverance and fortitude. Her simple presence kept them both alive and breathing, and it saw them through the day. So, together, they survived.
He was fire, and she was air. Together, they waxed and waned and lived and loved.
Together, they survived.
A/N: To counteract the break up in the last one, here's an AU in which they survive the war.