For Fox. AKA Xx Eve of Destruction xX.
Fox, you have supported me so much within my stories, so this is a little thank you! And in April I did inbox you about a story like this... ;)
Thank you so much! Enjoy!
"Let's go out today."
"What? It's seven in the morning!"
"So? It's nice and fresh outside, and there's nobody out there!"
"Never."
"Okay! Let's go!"
"Take it off."
"Never."
"Then I'll have to!"
Brown hair whips behind her, the wind whooshing fast. The intense dark frenzy jumps around, twisting in the fresh oxygen. Loose strands from a ponytail are starting to completely come out of their tie. Hair grazes her rosy tinted cheeks, falling in front of icy blue eyes.
She doesn't dare to even take one quick peek behind at the pursuing man. Instead, her gaze fixes ahead. Don't fall, don't fall.
Everywhere she looks, there is white. There's white blanketing the hard, rocky ground. Descending in sheets of glistening powder, it delicately swirls in the cool peppermint air. It layers the roads like a paintbrush running over canvas. A smooth surface that is untouched by stomping feet lies ahead.
Morning is so beautiful.
She tramples through the snow. Black boots crunch into the fluffy texture. She's not bothering to avoid rather large puddles of liquid. Splashing droplets are flung in different directions. It lands and dissolves into the semi-solid puffiness.
She's heavily breathing, a slick tongue swipes over pink chapped lips. Her throat is running dry, a parched ache rubbing across. I have to drink water as soon as I get home. One defeating sigh slips out of her mouth. There's no point in this. I'd rather be at home, drinking hot chocolate now.
Then, as she is blindly running, without bothering to check her surroundings, her foot collides with something hard.
Stumbling is clumsy, admit it. Especially when the things at fault are rocks buried within the heaps of snow. She loses balance, and her running momentum has been ruined. Falling forwards, she shoves her arms in front of her body, hoping to stop the fall. She squeaks when her hands hit the ground first, waves of force climbing up in her arm muscles.
The hat in her hand has been discarded to the side, momentarily forgotten. It's a leather black hat, worn down after being constantly worn so many times. The brown strip across the base is still tightly sewn on, even with all these passing years.
For an instant, cheek contacts with snow as she collapses. A chill hurriedly rushes up her spine. Her body quivers. It's so cold... Then with one sturdy fuzz covered hand, she props herself up in a sitting position. "Ugh." Wincing, she grabs at her throbbing right foot. Ah, that's going to leave a bruise in the morning.
Suddenly drained of energy, from falling and running and the cold, she falls backwards to stare at the brilliant sky.
Man, this girl can run. Panting, Vaughn crosses his arms after he ceases jogging. There's no sign of her anywhere. Squinting, his glowering gaze scans around. Where is she?
There is not a dull orange jacket bearing figure in sight. In fact, this early in the morning, there's not a person in sight. On his lips is a waning frown. Shaking his head, Vaughn begins walking. Where is she?
The plentiful fall trees he dearly loved here have embraced winter's grasp. Wondrous garments have been stripped from the supportive to delicate branches. From top to the bottom, the fragments of colours olive, chestnut, maple, and crimson and ashen – gone and fallen out.
Now, thick mounds of white frame the tree. Loose hangings suspend, reluctant to drop. Icicles are sharp spikes to the very tips, are glued to their bearer.
As Vaughn sees the trees, he sighs. They look naked. Incomplete in beauty. It doesn't look right.
But then again, there are the strange, odd, out of place things in the world.
He chooses this moment to glance at his left. If he's surprised, there's none of that expression on his face. Stopping in his tracks, he stares at the lying down girl. "Can I have my hat back now?" he asks, making a move towards the black hat in the snow. "It's all dirty now."
Eyes trail across the powdery substance brushed against the rim. Shaking silvery hair out of amethyst eyes, Vaughn again reaches towards it, and then pauses.
Attempting to unpleasantly scowl, Vaughn adds, "It's cold, you know. I can't believe you're lying down." Instead, a smirk crosses his face. She looks so happy, just peacefully lying in the snow and staring above.
Without bothering to even steal a look at him, she says, "No way," and grabs the hat. After placing it on her small head, she again fixes her gaze above.
What's she looking at? But he recognizes that look. The daydreaming, lazy side of her is present often, after all. When she's in her own world, it takes him at least a minute to bring her back. "Um...you look, terrible in it," he deadpans, and then his eyes trail above, following her gaze.
Then he catches his breath, and he marvels at the glorious sky.
He barely hears her exclaim, "I'm not! I look freakishly adorable in your clothes!"
There is a pleasing aura in the blue above; wispy clouds are floating, slowly dancing across the sky. Blending with one another, the gray against azure hues – they're absolutely lovely. Even with his stony face, he can appreciate the sights from time to time. A somewhat happier energy rushes within him.
It's not every day you stare at the sky, after all.
His gaze averts down. From the hair on her face, to the tip of her curled up toes...in her position, she shifts, the crunch of snow reaches his ears. "Beautiful, eh, Chelsea?" Vaughn softly asks. He's really talking about her, but she doesn't need to know that.
Her. Chelsea. His one love.
His beautiful angel.
The one that up brightens his life, the one to make him beam and loudly laugh when no one else can. The one who can make him blush in embarrassment. The one who puts himself in front of her, and supports him all the way. The one who keeps him awake in the night by whispering, even though his eyes are heavily drooping. The one who loves him, the one who he loves.
Chelsea is the one.
With a broad smile, Vaughn reaches over, and grabs her hands.
Shivers are sent up her spine as frosty patches roll down her back. As she springs upright on her feet, she notes her tingling cheeks. My skin must be dry by now. Chelsea shakes her head, a hand clutching the hat. Wet powder clings onto the tips of her damp, limp hair.
She sharply inhales as his fingers reach to snatch away the Stetson. The air is still crisp and fresh at seven in the morning. Vaughn smirks, placing it back on his snow dusted head, where it belongs. "Don't try so hard to run from me next time," he says, nudging her shoulder. "I will catch you no matter what – especially if you have my hat."
She giggles, with a blush. I know it's true.
They exchange grins.
He really has a beautiful smile, for someone who doesn't smile a lot.
Chelsea brushes his long, silvery bangs out of his flushed, pale face. She spots white particles on his eyelashes as she slowly leans in. His eyes close, the mysterious purples concealed behind lids.
They lean closer towards each other...then she finally shuts her eyes.
Warm lips meet in the middle, locked in a soothing passion.
A rush of comfort soars through Chelsea. She's light headed and satisfied at the moment.
Him. Vaughn. Her one love.
Her strong guardian.
The one who can snap her out of her foulest moods. The one who she trusts the most in this world, the one who she is most comfortable around. The one who cups her cheeks and kisses her when she cries, the one who has strong arms that wrap around her. The one who loves her, the one who she loves.
I love him so much.
So when they break apart, she says, "Hey, Vaughn?" There's a grin on her face, like she's about to tell him something important, and she can't wait.
Eyes softening, he cups her cheek with a smile and whispers, "Yes?"
"I love you."
Well, the objective was to feel winter within the summer season. :)
Hope you enjoyed, Fox! Let me know what you think of it. I thought you would like something like this! ;)
Happy weather, and enjoy your last few weeks of summer!
~diego
