熬汤

露伴视角第二人称

潦草瞎写 就不打tag了

“hey, it’s snowing!"

he turned to you in one swift move, eyes wide with child-like wonder, as if he couldn’t wait a second longer to make you the first person who shared this little finding. So what? You thought to yourself. It snowed here every year, didn’t it? You held back a sigh but couldn’t help to throw a glance at him. The tiny fractals of icy snow that were almost unnoticeable in the beginning were melting into him, and as it continued, the world was slowly blanketed with a thin spread of linen snow. Among the seemingly infinite, unending white, his eyes stared into yours, unalarmingly, with an almost careless grace. 

it was that exact moment, you felt something that you haven't felt for the longest time.

it was the moment when you saw Nicolas de Staël’s Méditerranée up close in person.

it was the moment when you saw Nanase’s dress hanging neatly on the screen in her room.

it was the moment when you saw the sun rising in a red-tinted glory after an entire night of tireless drawing, involuntary tears welling up in your eyes because it almost felt like that particular stream of morning light, in that transient second, existed for you and you alone--

you trained your eyes on the white puff of air coming out of these smiling lips as he continued to talk about the weather, school, his new shoes, and all the things that you thought you couldn’t care less about.

but you knew as clear as day, that if you were not focused enough, not careful enough, then your eyes would be irresistibly drawn to those beautiful blues again and again.

they shone like the sky’s remnant breath between the clouds in a summer's day, like a shard of the bluest wave, bright as diamonds in the ocean’s light.

you lost the will to walk in the middle of a sidewalk and felt yourself slowing down to a halt; he stopped to look at you quizzically. Those lips moved again, but before he could have uttered a single word, you quickly surprised the both of you by kissing him right there and then, tasting the newly shored snowflakes on him.

you were never the best at resisting temptations, you thought, as you finally allowed yourself to gaze into his eyes again, breath uneven, heart skipping only god knew how many beats.