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Chapter 22: Tangled up in You

I first off, apologize for how bad my French turned out last chapter. Seems everything I learned in the last five years completely dissipated over the summer… and thanks to the wonderful people who pointed out my mistakes (The Caged Bird and Xfanatic).

And a HAPPY HALLOWEEN to all! For anyone who cares, I'm dressing up as Kyo from Dir en Grey (macabre era style), while Kokuei no Onchuu is going as Shinya, and I've bribed my boyfriend into dressing up as Die!

I feel I owe some people review responses…

Mayaku-chan – Mainstream 'cool' is my arch nemesis… And where I live it snows A LOT. Like, five months of the year, and I hate the cold! But I think snow can make things pretty…

JK – Actually, I was more addressing Scapegoat on the formatting, yeah… but no problem! Really! Eeh, yeah, those pills… er, I sorta made those up. But they have drugs for everything these days so there's probably something like that… Yeah, gay marriage is legal in Canada (w00t!), but some people are still just as intolerant.

Jade – Thanks for pointing that out, I didn't catch that in editing, and promptly fixed it because it irked me too! My little sister never uses 'gay'… actually, she's pretty comfortable with homosexuality for a preteen, so I'm proud of her. Good for you, teaching your brother like that!

Thank you to everyone who read (cookies if you reviewed)! It means a lot!

And if anyone on livejournal feels like checking me out, I'm ebonycreme. That said, on with the chapter!

I disclaim, etc.

o

At night, my dreams are murky and distorted, everything dulled down to muddied shades, greyed tints. It's cold there, so much that I can hardly feel the current against my skin, awareness dispersed. I feel as though I'm standing before a wide ocean the reaches on up into the sky, breathtaking in its size and power. Beneath the throbbing, rippled surface, I catch quick glimpses of that which lives underneath, obscured.

The submerged fragments hidden from me…

Beneath the sound of the water pounding and smashing against the narrow shoreline, the land that keeps me dry, I hear things. Things I want to hear and things I don't, and occasionally, things I can't place.

Getting further and further…

I won't let it bury me.

o

Gaara's eyes glanced anxiously to the date scrawled on the black board in pale blue chalk. Wednesday December 18th.

Two days until Christmas holidays.

Two days until Neji left…

Sighing, he turned his attentions back to the nearly blank sheet of lined paper, a few crossed out scribbles taking up room on the first few lines since he had given up on his eraser. There was a small pile of small of dirtied pink eraser bits left from his attempts, curled from his attempts to sweep them up with his fingertips. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could think of nothing. Nothing worthwhile, anyways.

The night before, soon after being told of Neji's soon-to-be absence, Gaara realized that this meant Neji would not be there for Christmas. This also meant he only had two – and barely even that many! – days to think of a present to get Neji.

The main problem was his brain had chosen that time to depart for am early vacation somewhere far, far away, leaving him basically idealess. He considered getting Neji some film or something camera-related, before remembering he knew about photography or anything of that sort and would not know what type of thing to buy. Neji did not seem the type for chocolate (flowers were completely out of the question), and he knew he would not be able to afford anything fancy or impressive… so he had reached a dead end. A big, empty, and ostensibly hopeless dead end.

Letting his pencil drop onto the fake-wooden desk and roll a small ways away, Gaara rested his head on one of his arms and let his eyelids slide half-closed, blurring the world before him. The classroom was a little less than half-empty, due to the Jazz band rehearsal for the Christmas concert. This also left the classroom rather quiet, since Naruto, Lee, and Kiba (the "noisy" ones) were all in Jazz Band, along with Neji, Sasuke and Hinata.

Those who were in Concert Band kept glancing anxiously at the clock, waiting for their time to go down to the music room, and two clarinet players were going over fingerings nervously, using rulers as pretend instruments. Iruka had given up on teaching a half-full class of distracted students, and had decided to cancel the lesson. Thus Gaara, who was in neither Jazz nor Concert band, had an entire morning to try to coax his mind into birthing at least one somewhat plausible idea.

"Oh, Sasuke-kun!"

Wincing at the shrill sound, Gaara saw the platinum blonde head of Ino pop up from a group of predictably giggling girls as the Uchiha sauntered into the classroom, a sour look upon his face. He ignored Ino as he headed over to where his backpack sat on his chair and began to rummage through it in an irritated manner, cursing as he caught his finger on the zipper.

"Is the Jazz band practice over?" Sakura asked him, a little too eagerly. "Can the rest of us go down-"

"No," he hissed, voice tense and clipped. "I just forgot some of my music…"

A few seconds later, he yanked a loose sheet of music out of his bag and hastily zipped it shut, just missing catching one of his fingers again. Without another glance to the girls, he turned and left, footsteps loud as he stomped towards the door and near-slammed it shut behind him.

"Man…" one of Sakura's friends commented with raised eyebrows, "someone's pissed off today…"

"It's no wonder, though!" Ino said a little too loudly. "I mean, Naruto did break up with him last night!"

"Naruto broke up with him?"

Ino shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure of who broke up with whom, or if it was both of them or whatever, but both seem pretty out of it today, don't ya think?"

"Hey," Sakura whined, prodding Ino with her pencil, "how did you find out about this before me?"

"I asked Naruto this morning, and he said," she cleared her throat and altered her voice in an imitation, "'Oh, the bastard and I split last night, that's all'. Like nothing was wrong at all!"

A pig-tailed brunette whistled in appreciation. "Wow…"

Wow indeed, Gaara's thoughts echoed before he let his eyelids slide all the way closed and the separate sounds collapsed into a jumble of unrecognizable ones, and his thoughts concerning what to get Neji spiralled off in a completely different direction.

o

A sky knock came on the door, followed by a pause, then three rather demanding ones and a hefty kick.

"Kimimaro! Look, I know you're in there, just answer the fucking door, will ya?" Tayuya yelled, peering through the gauzy curtains hung over the pane of glass. "It's fucking cold out here! Let me in! Oh, come on!"

At lack of answer, she kicked at the locked door again, and was rewarded with muffled sounds of movement coming from inside the house that was a bit large and fancy for two people to share. Kimimaro lived there with his aunt, an uptight business woman that did not 'approve' of Tayuya, nor most of the people she ever saw him with, but she didn't have enough time to make a fuss about it so she let it be.

Tayuya stepped back a little as the lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal a rather peeved looking Kimimaro, still adorned in a large white T-shirt and navy pyjama pants that hung loosely from his frame. Tayuya herself wore only a thick dull green jacket and a striped toque aside from her normal clothing as protection from the cold, her teeth chattering violently from the chill.

"What do you wadt?" he muttered in a voice betraying that he was currently burdened with sickness, goose bumps rolling up and down his body as the cold seeped in through the open doorway. "No, neverbind, just cobe in…"

The orange-haired girl quickly stepped inside into the small foyer after him, removing her beat-up sneakers and placing them on the mat while Kimimaro closed the door firmly, locked it again, and stomped off. Frowning, Tayuya scampered after him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I wouldn't have come if I knew you were sick…"

"It's fide." He shook his head in blatant annoyance before turning and beginning his ascent with one shaky hand against the railing. Four lavender-carpeted steps up, he stopped as a raw-throated cough shook through his body, throwing him off balance just slightly. Taking a second to steady himself, another shiver running through him,

Tayuya rolled her eyes. "Yeah, fine my ass!"

Kimimaro scowled. "Don't be so… Why ared't you id school, adyways?" he said scornfully, "You kdow you cad't afford to let your grades drop ady lower, else you bight dot graduate this year."

"Skipping one fucking day isn't going to lower my marks that far," Tayuya protested in annoyance, stripping off her coat as she followed Kimimaro up the carpeted staircase. "I don't feel like going to that shit-hole anyways, not in the mood that I'm in; I'll just end up making an ass of myself! Besides, I wanted to talk to you…"

"You really should go…," he muttered persistently, her footsteps catching up to him as she began to go up two steps at a time.

"Why, is the bitch gonna come home and kick me out?" Tayuya snorted. "I'll stay if I want to."

"Tayuya…"

"Look, would you stop this? Damnit!" By this time, Tayuya had caught up to him, grasping his thin forearm with a hand, her tanned skin and brightly-painted nails clashing horribly with his crème, almost skeleton-like limb. She gave him one of her looks, one of those 'No way in Hell I'm letting you go without a fight' looks that he had become so accustomed to trying to brush off, but now made his stomach churn. Insensitive, broken off; he had always been a little more than distant to her, and she had dealt with it in that way she did, acting like nothing mattered. All 'I don't give a shit' and 'Fuck the world'. He would admit, the relationship was more physical than anything else, and neither seemed to mind that on-off, in-out, push-pull gravity that seemed to have captured them.

That's how it was; as in, had been.

As in (and he was beginning to feel that so clearly); wasn't anymore.

Past tense.

"You haven't really been acting yourself lately," Tayuya said, lowering her voice. "And it's not just me being fucking delusional, Temari and Ukon have noticed it too! And you've been sick on and off for the last goddamn month and I just…just want you to tell me what's wrong so I can get this off my mind, okay?"

Kimimaro looked away, another irritated sigh passing through his slender lips. "I wish you would drop it. It really isd't adythig, Tayu-"

"Don't," she hissed. "You don't have to be acting all 'tough guy' all the damn time! I don't care anymore, okay? Now tell me."

"Ta-" The sound was cut off by another bout of hoarse-throated coughing, rippling violently through Kimimaro's body. His hand shot to his faint-lipped mouth, muscles giving way as he struggled to control the fit. Sure enough though, Tayuya had taken a quick step towards him, wrapping her arms around him as to support his weight. In the process, the jacket she had been holding had been dropped onto the floor by their feet, spilling snow onto the carpet.

The coughing subsided down in a little longer than soon enough, leaving Kimimaro short of breath as he continued to lean half against Tayuya and half against the banister, another shiver running up-down through him. It even hurt to breathe, as if his throat had been scratched by something that lived in his stomach that had desperately been trying to crawl out, hot tears sticking to his lashes and beneath his eyes.

"Kimimaro."

Her voice was demanding and yet not as harsh as he had guessed it would be, creeping beneath his skin.

"Tell me."

He shifted his weight as to take a little from her and place it on the railing of the curved staircase, knowing she was struggling to keep him upright.

"If you wadt to kdow so fucking badly," he said, ostensibly at his wits end, "I'b gettig some tests done."

"Some tests done? Tests for what?" Tayuya asked, tightening her grip on his arm.

"Dod't touch me," he grumbled, attempting to shrug her off.

However, her grip stayed strong. "Stop that! Answer me! Stop avoiding the fucking question, you bastard!"

His eyes turned upon her, and for a moment, she could picture him pushing her away; her back slamming into the matching banister on the other side of the staircase, the bars digging into her back as her face stung from the slap. She knew she would push him too far sometimes, for fun or because she was too stupid to realize what she was doing, and he would turn almost violent on her, but it had not yet gotten to the point where…

"Tests," Kimimaro said, "because I'b sick."

"Sick how?" she questioned (pushing and daring).

"Sick, Tayuya," he sighed, "in a dot good way, alright? It's not just this cold. I'll call you whed I get the results… probably today or toborrow…"

After a pause, the orange-haired girl nodded. "Alright… I just… don't like being left in the dark. Makes me feel pretty shitty."

He winced.

"And sorry for being such a bitch," she continued, smiling. "I was…worried."

"Ah."

He felt the crown of her carrot-coloured head press into his shoulder, her right breast and hip doing the same further down. Places he knew, places his hands had scoured, savoured. Hesitantly, he twitched his arm as to hold her marginally, thinking of what his aunt would say if she came home to such a sight for yet another time; the air thick with the men's cologne Tayuya chose to where and the house much less than the perfectly tidy state it was usually in.

Tayuya rocked back on her heels, nuzzling him affectionately before breaking the embrace and bending down to grab her coat before starting down the stairs two or three at a time.

"Go to your room!" she called one she had reached the bottom. "I'm making you some tomato soup! They say that sort of shit is good for you! So you better be in bed when I get back up there, or else I'm force-feeding you!"

o

Long red and green streamers were strung messily all throughout the gymnasium, a large sign declaring 'HAPPY HOLIDAYS' taped up against the wall the rows of oddly-coloured plastic chairs were facing. Though everyone still referred to it as the 'Christmas Concert', a few offended people had forced the school board to change it to a 'Winter Holidays Concert' the year before, much to the annoyance of some and satisfaction of others. The scene differed slightly from that of the rehearsal that afternoon, as the band and choir members were now uniformly dressed in a white collared shirt of some variety and black pants, and the chairs were filled with relatives as well as students. All that was left of the concert was the Jazz Band's performance, and then (much to the relief of many) the concert would be finished.

Sasuke stood near the back of the ensemble, his fingers darting over the strings of the black electric bass he held as he waited for their cue to begin playing. The lull of chattering coming from the audience and performers combined was beginning to cause a slow-throbbing headache to manifest his skull, and it was not being helped in the least by the constant tip-tapping of Naruto's fingers against the edge of his seat only a few metres away, humming restlessly under his breath. These noises stood out to Sasuke above the mess of other jumbled ones, causing his concentration to shatter almost completely. His head felt cramped, thoughts squished and squeezed until any flow was lost altogether.

"What're you doing, Sasuke?"

The Uchiha breathed a sigh of relief as Tsunade came to stand in front of the crowd, calling quiet to the gymnasium.

Hands pushing distance between.

Sasuke closed his eyes, rather grateful for the silence until he realized that without the noise, all he could hear was the unforgiving pounding in his brain, his thoughts noisy and disruptive. Radio interference, sharp and jagged static.

"What do you mean?"

– kiss me –

And despite his efforts, his eyes kept sneaking glances over to the blonde trumpet player, fingers still beating out rhythm against the side of the plastic chair as he gazed off into another world. Sometimes, Sasuke would find his eyes stuck, and that quick glance he had meant to take turned into a full minute or more of exploring Naruto's expression or the messy hair sticking out from beneath the lopsided Santa hat. Eventually the blonde would twitch or turn his head a little bit Sasuke's way and – the Uchiha would bitterly admit it; cowardly – Sasuke would force his gaze away, pretending to be fascinated by the scratches in the large painted bricks that lined the wall.

"Stop it!"

But even when he closed his eyes; there Uzumaki was.

"Stop what?"

It wasn't his fault, he kept telling himself mentally. It's that damn blonde, it's his fault, it was a mistake to ever let him get to me like he did, and good riddance he's gone. That stupid, stupid dobe…

"It almost feels like you're using me!"

"Sasuke?"

(…"I hate you, sometimes"…)

The black-haired boy looked up, discovering Neji was looking at him intently.

"We're starting," the brunette whispered, raising his tenor saxophone to his mouth.

Sasuke looked at him cluelessly for a moment before realizing the band teacher, Kurenai, had raised her arms to begin conducting, and was already counting them in. Cursing under his breath, Sasuke flipped to their first piece and jumped his hands to where they should have been on the bass, his headache gaining force. Despite his impairments, though, he played through the piece without portraying his state of mind. He had not expected anything else of himself. His parents had started him on piano when he was five years old, and violin when he was seven, so bass had come easily to him. He liked it when things came easy, when he could master things as if he had known them his entire life.

Not knowing things and having to work at them was, quite frankly, not as great, and rather disappointing to him of himself.

He could hear the applause, sounding somewhat far-off and yet unbearably loud, as the second piece ended. Kurenai called up Naruto, Neji and Hinata to take separate bows for their solos (everyone always found it strange how such a quiet girl like Hinata could produce such a large, clear, sound on her alto sax) before the rest of the band took a bow together. Sasuke could hear Naruto's laughter, bubbling, rising so clearly above the rest of the noise, as he took of his bass and quickly laid it down into its case. Again, he was aware of Neji saying something to him but he chose to ignore it, picking up the case and stalking off through the crowd, head spinning and spinning…

Was there no place of calm within the whirlwind?

o

"And that comes to $10.58."

Temari slipped two crumpled five-dollar bills on the counter, wincing as she realized she forgot to add in tax and had come up short.

"Just a minute, I think I have some change…," she said as she began rooting through her purse, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree just being plugged in as she found three quarters, quickly dropping them onto the counter. Sighing, the cashier – who was dressed rather comically in a full Santa costume – ripped the receipt from the machine and dropped it inside a plastic bag, then quickly gathered a handful of change.

"No returns after 25 days," he said, voice dripping with a lack of enthusiasm, "Thank you for shopping at Bargain-Mart and have a pleasant what's left of your day."

"You too…" Temari paused a moment, squinting at him. "Wait, wait… I've seen you somewhere before, haven't I?"

"Maybe…" he answered.

"I swear I have." Her eyes glinted devilishly. "Take off the beard! I'll remember your face."

"No, miss."

"Oh come on, why not?" she asked, pouting.

The cashier rolled his eyes. "There are small children present… do you really want to break their hearts by revealing their precious Santa Clause is nothing but an adolescent getting paid minimum wage?"

"Oh, come on; just let me have a peak." Temari pleaded, trying to keep herself from succumbing to the laughter growing up in her throat.

"I said no!"

"Yeah, well screw that!" Before he could protest, Temari reached over the counter and yanked off the blatantly fake beard to reveal the aggravated face beneath. "Oh, Shikamaru! I haven't seen you in a while!"

"We have to keep meeting like this…" He gave her an annoyed look. "Okay, you know who I am. Will you give me the beard back now?"

"Not a chance. So…." She cocked an eyebrow at his outfit. "What are you doing here? Working in Bargain-Mart… w-wearing a… hehe… Santa suit?" …

Shikamaru shrugged, leaning against the counter. "Mom insisted I get out of the house… It was this or be an elf and help with the kids in the mall. I hate kids. I hate malls."

"I see…" said Temari. "Are you working here all Christmas then?"

He nodded, the pom-pom on his Santa hat bobbing with his movement. "Pretty much…"

"Wow… that sorta sucks… a lot."

"I know."

"Well, I better get going…" Temari said. "I'll see you around… or, actually…"

Another mischievous grin made its way onto her face, causing Shikamaru slight discomfort. He always got just a little frightened when females got that look… but only just a little. "What now…?"

"How would you like to-"

"T-Temari-chan?"

The dialogue was cut short as Temari turned around to see who had addressed her and found a rather distraught Tayuya. Strands of limp ginger hair clung to her dampened cheeks, turned pink from frostbite and the tears still dripping from her eyes like someone had forgotten to turn off a faucet. Her coat was dusted with a layer of snow that had melted into dark watermarks, her body quivering uncontrollably from both her distressed state that the cold weather almost as if she were being electrocuted, shocked. Eyes wide and lined with spindly red blood vessels, she gasped in breath.

"My God, Tayuya-chan… what happened?" A look of horror grew on Temari face as she watched her friend struggle for words. "Sorry, Shikamaru I'll talk to you later… Tayuya-chan, tell me what's wrong, please." She wrapped an arm around Tayuya, not a bit surprised as the girl quickly clasped her hands to Temari's neck, thundering sobs jolting their bodies.

The only distorted syllables Temari was able to put meaning to was "Ki-Kimima…ro" before Tayuya slumped forwards onto her, unconscious.

o

Gaara stood in front of the familiar white door, feeling as if he were frozen in place. Maybe, he joked with himself, Iceman from The X-men had come along when he wasn't looking and turned him into ice, just like that. But surely that could not be it, as aside from the lack of logic and utter ridiculousness of that theory, he could feel his heart keeping an ever-speeding tempo. The beat reverberated through every inch of his body, and he could feel heat swarming his face and throat from anxiety. And if he coaxed his frigid muscles into it, he found he could extend his arm and rap twice on the door, easy.

Oh, shit.

"Come in!" came the shout from behind the door. Still overwhelmingly nervous, Gaara slowly twisted the doorknob and let the door swing open, mind blanking as he realized he had no more time to prepare.

"Hi…" he said softly as he entered. The room was in a slightly messier state than when he had last been the Neji's house, clothes strewn over the bed along with various other items. In the middle of it was a large black suitcase that Neji was leaning over, methodically compacting packing everything into it, items of clothing folded over and over and squeezed tightly in rows.

"Hey…" the Hyuuga glanced up to greet him, shuffling things around as to have them fit better. "Oh, could you pass me my CD case? It's on the desk."

"Uh, sure."

Gaara paused, eyes browsing the few scattered works left out on Neji's desk – a little more than amazed and envious and proud all at once, as usual – before gabbing the CD case and bringing it over to Neji, cursing mentally as he found it nearly difficult to meet the other's eye.

"Thanks." Neji smiled briefly before going back to wrestling with his suitcase. "I hope you don't mind… you might have to help me get this closed…"

"N-no problem…" Gaara answered, trying to clear his head. Inhale, exhale, don't mess up now, inhale…

"Sorry, packing always has me a little stressed…"

"It's fine." He sat down on a clear corner of the bed, bringing his hands, and the package contained in them, onto his lap. His fingers began running unconsciously along the side of it, all covered in smooth red wrapping paper and held together with an untidy dose of scotch tape. He could feel his mouth open, imagining himself saying the words, until finally in one quick breath, he forced out a mixed up version of what he had planned to say.

"Er… I, uh… here."

He outstretched his arm towards Neji, turning his head away as a warm cerise blush flooded his cheeks, lips pressed tightly into a tiny, anticipating smile. The knot between his ribs only grew a little tighter as he felt the weight being taken from his hand, the moment edging along towards…

"You got this for me?"

Gaara nodded, inhaling deeply as he heard Neji beginning stripping off the wrapper paper – peeling another layer off me – the fingertips of his other hand skimming the cover.

"Gaara…"

The spine crackled quietly as Neji opened the thick, blank-paged book, eyes captivated as he read the inscription and poem in the front that was written in Gaara slightly messy but still legible script. The cover was smooth and black, free of any scratches or dents, and in the corner was a small blue design of leaves.

It had taken Gaara quite a while to find something he thought Neji would actually enjoy receiving as his Christmas present. It had been Kankurou's idea, actually, after commenting on how 'artsy types and all that' usually like journals and sketchbooks, and Gaara could hardly believe he himself had not thought of it sooner.

"Did you write this? The poem?" Neji asked, fingering the corners of the pages.

Gaara shook his head, the colour on his cheeks still burning bright. "N-no, I… I found it in my Mother's book…"

"It was a good choice. I like it a lot," he smiled. "The sketchbook too… it's perfect. Thank you."

Neji perched beside Gaara on the edge of the bed, bringing up an arm to embrace Gaara with. The redhead – greatly relieved that Neji had actually liked his gift – let himself sink into the other. Perfect, Neji had called it. Now there was a word he had never heard before in context concerning anything he had ever done.

"Merry Christmas…" he murmured.

"You too," Neji murmured, pecking Gaara once on the lips. A sweet, breathtaking, far-too-short moment. Dizzying, giddiness, silence.

"I feel a little bad that I haven't gotten you anything yet," Neji admitted quietly as he rested his chin atop Gaara's head. "I was planning on getting you something from Paris…"

"You don't have to do that…"

Neji shook his head. "I'm going to get you something whether you want me to or not…"

With that, he leaned in towards Gaara again – hearts skipping, palms sweating, eyes half wide closed – as their lips met once more, holding contact for a little longer this time before breaking and dipping back in for more, another and another. Neji's hand held Gaara's shoulder as he lead the timid boy slowly into a deeper kiss, the kind that stirred something inside your body, laughing at any words that tried to capture it or an act that attempted to recreate it.

The redhead let out a muffled squeak as he felt Neji's tongue play against his lips, opening his mouth just slightly to let sensation rush in. Sensing some of Gaara's uncertainty, the Hyuuga pulled away, almost equally as breathless.

So much for packing…

"I'll miss you while you're gone," Gaara said quickly.

Neji smiled. "I know… but I'll be coming back."

"Promise?"

Fingers entwine.

"Of course."

"Neji?" came Hiashi's voice from the other side of the door and Gaara startled, untangling himself from Neji.

"Y-yes?" Neji called as he stood and returned to his suitcase as the door opened and Hiashi stepped in, surveying the two apprehensively.

"Ah, hello Gaara…" He granted the redhead a short nod of recognition before turning back to his nephew. "Neji, we're going to be leaving for the airport in a few minutes. Are you packed?"

"Just about."

"Good. We'll see you in the foyer then," said Hiashi. Once he had left, Neji relaxed and continued stuffing a few last minute things into his suitcase, carefully placing the notebook from Gaara on top. Once the zipper had been done up, he hauled it off the bed and onto the floor, taking hold of the handle that allowed on to pull the suitcase along on the wheels on the bottom.

"Well, I guess I'll see you when I get back…" he said softly.

Can I go that long without you?

"I have your address, so I'll write as often as I can," Neji continued. "Okay?"

"…yeah." Gaara stood, indecisive for a moment before wrapping his arms around Neji once more.

"Good-bye for two weeks."

"Just two weeks."

"Mm-hm."

Smile, kiss me, promise…

Just two weeks.

Without you.

o

Snowslip

There was a thin layer of snow on the ground
that morning,
of sparkling dust on your eyelids,
and a crown of droplets in your hair.

I carved your name into the sky.

It bled into the treetops,
that stain of sun that
leaked through.
But you smiled anyways.

And I painted your name onto my lips
to make sure I wouldn't forget.

End Chapter 22