There was always something lonely about watching the snow fall by oneself, Eren thought. Sure, it was nice. Peaceful even. The way the tiny sound of fluffy flakes colliding with earth turned into a quiet hush, the way the trees and air and even time seemed to hold still. He held his hot coffee tightly in his hands, leaning on the railing of his small balcony, looking out onto the streets below. Few cars passed. Lights glimmered on the trees planted evenly apart, lining the sidewalk below. A few people walked along them, peering in shop windows and walking dogs, bundled up against the chill and leaving boot scuffs beneath their heels, and for a moment Eren wished he was down there with them, walking. The large flakes fell and drifted slowly around him, but it still felt like something was missing. Someone.

The city was a lonely place, even with good friends and places to go. He could have called Armin, or Mikasa, but what would he say? Sorry Armin, I know you have that important test coming up but would you want to...oh, I don't know? Go somewhere? We could just walk. ... Yes, it is cold. Black ice isn't that bad, I'm sure the drivers will be able to stay off the sidewalks... Oh. okay. Well, maybe another time when you aren't so busy. Good luck on your test... He sighed, knowing exactly how that conversation would go. Armin liked the warmth, the sunshine; he was the life of the party when they had gone to the beach last summer, but a walk in the snow? Armin would think he was mad. And Mikasa...she would take it wrong. They were co-workers, good friends, childhood friends even...and that's why she would take it wrong. The lights on the trees, the fluffy flakes landing on each others eyelashes...it would be too romantic. Perhaps it was just that, too romantic of a notion. What had gotten into him?

Eren turned from the balcony and opened the sliding glass door, stepping back into the artificial warmth of his apartment. He set his coffee on the table, and pulled the blinds shut. He didn't want to see the snow. He didn't want to see the lights. He took off his slippers and plopped onto his makeshift couch slash loveseat, curling his sweatpants clad legs tight to the thin blue fabric of his tee shirt, and stared at the pages of a book.

He read the first line, and then the second. He then re-read them, having retained none of the information the words had relayed. He was on the second page before he realized, he hadn't registered a word. That was odd. Was this book broken? Why wasn't it distracting him properly? He wrinkled his nose and turned the book upside down, slowly reading the bottom line backwards. But the words just didn't compute. All he felt was lonely. All he felt was that sense of longing for somebody, someone who probably didn't even exist, or if they did it was in a different lifetime, or perhaps just somewhere far, far away. A hand in his. Someone's soft breath on his cheek. Someone who'd just be there, sitting at the other end of the loveseat, keeping his feet warm as he read.

He let the book slip from his hands and fall to the floor. He stared at the ceiling, and imagined. Someone...a someone of his own.

Little did he know, there was someone...someone on the roof of the apartment complex, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling over, watching the snow fall.

Levi wasn't afraid of heights. He'd been warned how many times by Isabel that sitting on the edge was dangerous? He didn't really care. He knew his limits; he wasn't suicidal. He wasn't going to do anything crazy...he just wanted to sit, to sit and watch the snow.

The flakes fell upon his black hair and cardigan gently, appearing as bright little stars before fading into darkness as they melted. He could see his breath in the air, drifting like the exhaust from the cars below. He'd been up here for...how long? More than minutes, but less than hours? Yeah, that seemed about right. It was nice to be alone. It was nice to listen to the quiet that had fallen over the city. He was so used to being busy, used to doing nothing but work, it was nice to be off, even for just a morning. It was beautiful and crystalline, the way snow could lull the world into a timeless, frozen stillness. He imagined that perhaps one day, he'd write a song about snow. Musing to himself, the lyrics began to formulate in his mind, fleeting, leaving as quickly as they'd appeared.

Ice, it shines like bright blue eyes

Whispers are like the snow as you speak my name

Together we are warm, like the sun, and words melt

Melt and drip down my body; make me wet

Make me lie

Melt and your whispers are gone...

He sighed. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone to write songs about, at this point the lyrics just came to him from somewhere in his bitter imagination. There was no one in his life, no one with blue eyes, no one whispering anything to him save for the whisper of the snow hitting the concrete. No one with melting words.

And certainly no one making him wet, except for this blasted slush seeping into his sweater and making his hair limp. He swung his legs back up over the edge of the roof, and somehow in the process his scarf was caught by a particularly irritating gust of wind, torn from his neck and unfurled onto the street below. He watched it fall, then turned away. It was dirty now, probably covered in tire slush. Tch. He didn't want that scarf anyway. Just like he didn't want, no, he didn't need anyone. He was fine the way he was.

Besides, anyone he had over would just mess up the bed and dirty his dishes. And for what?

He imagined blue eyes, warm hands.

Well, he decided, he can get warm hands of his own by making some coffee. He made his way back down the narrow staircase to his own apartment, leaving wet footprints that he made a mental note to clean up later. He shut the door behind him, kicking off his low boots by the door and shedding his sweater to the hook. He put on a pot of coffee to brew, then peeled himself out of his wet jeans and tee shirt in the bathroom, turning on the shower water to hot. Within moments, steam was curling through the air, kissing his eyelids with its moisture.

Kisses...on eyelids...

He stepped under the water and let it wash away his thoughts.

Hello! This was just an idea that came to me...you guessed it, as I was watching the snow fall. Haha, I guess it was just a spur of the moment whim.

I'm curious though, how many of you would be interested in seeing this become a little longer? I was just going to write it as a melancholic one shot, but I do think it might be nice with another chapter or two... please review and tell me your thoughts!