It was the first snowfall of the year. It settled on the city like a down comforter. The quiet calm after a cold night causing a much needed moment of tranquility. He hasn't seen her since the day they left High School. That was 10 years ago. Now they meet again, on the streets as the city burned, fire lighting up the night sky. Her hair was still a deep raven, woven into a tight braid intended for battle. Tonight was not the night for romance. He shook himself from his reverie as his eyes returned their focus across the square.
This time, their prime minister had gone too far. With a furtive glance around her, she brought her arm up to hide the trails in the dirt on her cheeks. Red eyes. Frustration was a common current amongst those on the line, she felt shameful for her moment of weakness despite it's cathartic effect. Stars blazed in the night sky above. She noticed the boy next to her looked familiar. The lull in action was beginning to wear on her, her body becoming stiff from the tense crouched position she'd been curled into since night descended upon the city.
A quick check of her surroundings, a painful shuffle to the right and she was next to the boy. He looked caught off guard. She meant to give him a bashful smile, but it came off as more of a grimace as her lips cracked with effort and her teeth chattered in the cold. They moved closer together, like penguins converging to conserve their body heat. No words were issued, none were needed.
He awoke to birdsong. Nothing had changed. White still brought a silence with it, the sun losing an interstellar battle with the cloud cover hanging over the square. His stirring woke the girl. She started awake, immediately assessing her surroundings, a light blush on her cheeks the only proof of her surprise. It was unnaturally quiet. They weren't the only ones to notice. The morning had the heavy feeling of intense calm a soldier learns to distrust, causing a growing sense of unease. The boy placed his hand on the girl's tense shoulder, licking his lips in preparation to whisper to her as her attention snapped quickly to the distant right side of the square.
"Shh! Hear that?" she whispered fervently. Her eyes were bright, lit by a fever of fear and survival instinct.
"I-I didn't ... hear anything." he responded, his attention now following her line of sight, the illness seeping into his own consciousness.
His response was more of a gut reaction than actual situational awareness. He'd always hated speaking in public, especially not with how shot his nerves were after the constant stress. His hand on her shoulder pressed for her to duck as he noticed a window opening in a taller building across from them as if in slow motion. His other moving to cup her face as he pulled her to his chest behind their cover.
Silk. Skin so soft, so unnatural for the situation, caught him off guard for a moment. Memories of what seems like a different life washed over him. The smell of freshly-cut grass. A warm meal on the table. His mother's smile as his father brushed her hair behind her ear. He felt the sudden urge to do the same for this girl, this familiar stranger who was clutching to him in mutual fear of the unknown.
He came to his senses as shots reverberated through the square, voices melding together as directives were yelled for both sides. More shots rang out. He scrambled for her hand and dragged her from the scene with a quick tug away from the noise. They moved quickly, heads down and stumbling over scattered debris, makeshift blockades, and what they later acknowledged as fallen comrades.
He felt a sting in his neck. Why are there bees in winter, he wondered in mild delirium as his hand clutched the slick spot on his neck. Someone yelled his name, his legs felt heavy as his stumbling became worse, to the point of falling on the ground. Red. Why is there so much red, he thought, as the girl came into focus above him. She was scared, he could see under the dirt covering her face, fresh tears carving paths across her cheeks. She was saying something, everything sounded so muted he couldn't understand it anymore. He tried to focus, his mind calling him to rest as she pulled his head to her chest. His whole body felt cold, but he could feel the warm pinpricks of heat on his face as she wept over him. He wanted to ask why she was crying, he felt so a peace after being swept up in the chaos for so long. He deserved this break.
The streets were deserted when she next awoke. Where was everyone? Where had they all gone, she wondered. It was still daytime, although the cloud cover did little to brighten the day. She was still curled up around the boy, splashes of red all around them and upon them. She needed to move. With slow movements she pressed her fingers to her lips and lightly pressed them to his before smoothing his brow. Her face turned upward as she began to hear voices around her, others were coming out from cover, sounds of jubilation as the all clear was issued.
Another ten years have passed. She studied her face in the mirror. The boy still stays in her memories, a figment lurking in the back of her mind often coming forth in her dreams. She remembers his eyes, his strong hold on her hand, the expression of acceptance on his face as he died in her arms. Every night she goes to sleep, and every night she awakes, shivering, with the familiar stranger in the dark of that night on the battlefield.
