Ficlet ; it's so cold. but you've got me, nice and warm.
it's so cold. but you've got me, nice and warm.
G, 147 words, mood piece.
The snow is prettier than Jared remembers. White, like some kind of angel's wings blanketing the forgotten ground. There's no green, no brown; only the stark innocence of ivory and the delicate blue like a soft kiss.
A tingle is closing across his fingertips, quiet and cool. It's like a needle pricking at his skin, crawling up one thin stab at a time. It's comforting.
His body heat has long since left him, gone with the wind that bites at his cheeks in a race to the north. Jared can't see beyond his breath touching the air, a cloud of life in the frozen day. It's like being blind, but instead of dark it's all light. He imagines his nose, red at the tip. If Jensen could see him now, in the middle of their love, wrapped around the snow and oh so warm inside.
Written to Winter Song by Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson
Listen
G, 147 words, mood piece.
The snow is prettier than Jared remembers. White, like some kind of angel's wings blanketing the forgotten ground. There's no green, no brown; only the stark innocence of ivory and the delicate blue like a soft kiss.
A tingle is closing across his fingertips, quiet and cool. It's like a needle pricking at his skin, crawling up one thin stab at a time. It's comforting.
His body heat has long since left him, gone with the wind that bites at his cheeks in a race to the north. Jared can't see beyond his breath touching the air, a cloud of life in the frozen day. It's like being blind, but instead of dark it's all light. He imagines his nose, red at the tip. If Jensen could see him now, in the middle of their love, wrapped around the snow and oh so warm inside.
Written to Winter Song by Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson
Listen