b SYMPHONIES SCREAMED /b into Roy's ears as he walked home, the cold pre-winter wind nipping annoyingly at his cheeks. The redhead mouthed along with the lyrics that poured out of his headphones, electric guitars making harmonies that ran consistently in the foreground of the song. He was three-quarters of the way home already and hadn't run into anything that would slow him down; he considered this quick progress. He vaguely wondered what classes his newfound art partner had; Roy wanted to return Marth's sheet of music as soon as possible. The guitarist's lightheadedness returned at the thought of him, at which he furrowed his brow to try and rid himself of it.
A sudden gust of wind tousled his red locks of hair, pushing it back from his forehead as if to extinguish its flame. The boy braced himself against it and felt his hood get pressed up against the back of his head while the flap of his messenger bag smacked his lower back. Roy cursed the weather, waiting for the wind to die down before pulling his hood up in an effort to maintain any body heat that the cold hadn't stolen away.
A few minutes later, Roy had stopped at a crossing as cars whizzed past him, lacking in number. As he waited for the lights to turn red and halt the minimal flow of traffic, another person arrived and stood to the left of the boy. Roy glanced over curiously for a brief moment, seeing that the person's figure was drenched in a long black coat, accented by a blue and black striped scarf and blue gloves. The stranger's hair was getting wisped around by the wind, who apparently enjoying teasing his… blue hair…
The redhead took a double-take after realizing that this stranger was familiar.
"Marth?"
The boy looked over at the mention of his name, and Roy saw his lips twist into his signature, almost non-existent smile.
"Oh… hello…" The bluenette said quietly.
"Where are you headed?"
"Home," Marth said, nodding in the same direction Roy's house was.
"Same here. Do you wanna go my way?"
"Sure," Marth replied almost nonchalantly, and Roy's forwardness was discouraged by Marth's attitude.
"… if you really don't want to, you can just tell me."
"Ah, no, it's not that. I've just… I'm used to walking home alone, that's all. It'll be different having someone to walk home with."
"Oh… well, you have me now!" Roy said, grinning and chuckling softly. "I'll always be here to walk with you as long as it's alright with you. Meeting new people is fun! … for me, anyway."
Marth smiled again, wider this time, and more sincere looking. "Thanks, Roy."
The pair continued their journeys home, with Roy trying his best to make conversation so that Marth wouldn't get too bored and they would both be entertained and distracted from the wind that continued chilling them to the bone.
"So, what subjects do you have this semester?"
"Um… English, math, vocal, and art."
"In that order?"
Marth nodded and Roy went on trying to keep up the flow of dialogue. He talked about his English teacher and the books he forced himself to read for class, and about his plan to take art every year until the end of high school. Their topic of conversation veered from subjects and semesters to friends and classmates, and finally to anything either of them could think of.
"… how about your birthday? When is that?" Roy said, now so completely interested in the boy walking beside him that the bitter chill won over none of his attention.
"It's in February…"
"Aw, you're older than me… mine's in October…"
"Hey, Marth," Roy began, "did you always go to our school?"
"No," Marth replied, looking over at the shorter teen. "I was home schooled until about grade six. Both my parents are presidents of a large, global company that deals with the… media or something. I've lost track of what it is exactly that they do. But when I was about to start elementary school, my mother needed to go to England to sort out some things there. After a year or so of her supervision, we left for Germany, so that my father could take the reigns of the projects in THAT country… so… basically, we were country-hopping in Europe until the middle of sixth grade. Then they threw me into public school and bought a house in this neighborhood. My sister had to go through the same thing, but she was only a year older than me…"
"Ah… so it's no wonder I haven't seen you around the neighborhood…"
"Hm, I guess. I assume you've been going to the same high school since you started?"
The redhead nodded. "My mom and dad both went there too… so it was sort of set in stone the day I was born. … soooo…" Roy began, looking up at Marth with a sly smirk. "Have you found a girlfriend yet?"
Marth returned Roy's smirk with his own, laughing softly and looking down at Roy.
"I don't swing that way."
The blue-haired teen watched Roy's eyes widen and his eyebrows raise. Marth's wise grin stayed plastered on his face, even as he looked away from the redhead to the path in front of him. The shorter boy, a few moments later, shifted his gaze forward as well, feeling an embarrassed blush creep up to his wind-teased cheeks.
"……… you know… I never would have guessed that."
"I understand if it's too weird for you to talk to me anymore after this. God knows I've had my share of lost friendships."
"No! I mean, I don't mind. I support… people like you. I just… it- it was surprising."
Silence fell over the two friends as they continued walking, with Roy trying to figure out what to say next and Marth waiting for the redhead to start another conversation.
"… awkward silences suck." Roy said, finally.
"Yeah. They kind of do." The two boys laughed, and before either of them noticed, they stood at a fork in the street, and both started walking separate ways. The two teens stopped once they noticed the absence of a companion.
"Ah, right. I'm on Hilltop… so… see you." Marth said, over his shoulder.
"… I'm on Cornwall. I'll see you tomorrow, Marth!"
Roy and Marth continued walking down the sidewalk, now heading separate ways. Roy knew for a fact that Hilltop Crescent was within easy walking distance from his house, and absently put that fact in the back of his mind so that he would remember it if he even needed to head over to Marth's house. As he walked, Roy went over the events of the day, recollecting everything Marth had told him on their way home, and randomly challenging himself to see if we could remember his friend's schedule by heart. English… math… vocal—
"Ah, Marth! Wait!!" Roy spun on his heel quickly to see Marth's black-clad figure come to a halt and turn around, his scarf and hair twirling around him with the same grace the boy carried. The redhead quickly sprinted over to him and started digging through his bag. "I found this in art class… ugh, where is it… and I picked it up so that… you wouldn't lose it… ah! There you are, you little jerk…" Roy withdrew a piece of paper from his bag, stood up, and handed it to the patiently waiting boy.
"Oh… I definitely thought I had lost this for good! Thank you… Roy." Marth smiled sincerely for the second time over at the redhead, clutching the piece of paper in his hand. Roy felt his body warm up again, his head suddenly heavy; and as he smiled back, he swayed forward, losing his footing.
"R-Roy?" Marth said quietly, his hands now on Roy's upper arms, supported his weight.
"Ah… s-sorry," Roy said, noticing that he was now leaning face-first against Marth's chest. "I… don't know what's wrong with me today." The boy quickly regained his composure, lifting himself from Marth and trying to hide his embarrassment.
"You should go home quickly… I think you may have a fever…" The bluenette said softly, brushing the back of his hand over Roy's forehead, checking his temperature.
"Ah… yeah… I guess... I'll see you tomorrow."
"Well, don't go to school if you're sick…"
"I'll be fine." Roy said with a quick smile, turning to walk towards his house.
Marth watched him for a moment to make sure his friend didn't collapse in the middle of the street, and then continued on his way home. It took him a good ten minutes to get to his house, as he was patiently walking along the sidewalk, not caring his hasten his pace. The roar of the wind filled his ears, and he slipped his left hand into his pocket; his right still gripped his sheet music in it. He sighed softly, absentmindedly thinking about the boy he has just spent the last twenty minutes with. He had noticed that Roy was unusually warm when they made contact with each other, and how his friendly, open demeanor somehow fit his temperature.
Marth, on the other hand, had always been cold; quick to judge and reject, and he seldom opened up to anyone. Marth had concluded a while ago that he was afraid of being hurt. He had already experienced enough scarring, as none of his relationships lasted for more than a week long, and gradually, he felt himself pushing away the world. With his now-frigid personality, it was as if he was encased in a chamber of ice. His coldness was reflected in his body temperature; anyone who came in contact with him always asked him why he was so cold, and he was, in a way, completely the opposite from Roy.
And Marth was definitely impressed with the younger boy, as he was the only one who had been persistent enough to weld a hole in Marth's ice barrier.
