suetus; soohyuk & kristopher.
White. It’s what he remembered of a world shrouded in snow. Winter was nothing more than an inconvenience to some, hurrying along their way in a bustling city, upsetting the blanket of frost upon the earth. It was a shame, really, how the world stopped time, frozen, while others chose to simply fight against it, not pausing or slowing in the slightest to appreciate the spell cast over the land. Winter. He liked to believe there was always beauty in the dead cold.
It pulsed under the thin skin of a boy left out in the cold. Scarlet. It splattered and stained an innocent white. Crimson. Blood, it leaked, a life giving poison. There had been a skirmish at the very least but only one body remained to tell the tale. The snow swirled, urging him to move on and leave the site, a whispered warning from nature but he stayed, rooted to the spot by the compelling force of curiosity, dark eyes peering out from behind a looking glass of frost. A step or two closer. The blood belonged not to the boy who lay on the ground, he was not human. A knee down on the ground and then another, kneeling beside him. A hand ghosting over the warm body, his life force was still there.
He doesn’t quite know why he does it, gives in to the altruistic and generous qualities of a life he thought he left behind as soon as unforgiving fangs sunk into his already pale neck but the stranger is nestled safely in his arms, Kristopher’s own shoulders squared against the wind that picked up until he finds a safe refuge in a library, books and warm lights beckoning them. He leaves the boy in the care of books and shelves but he never quite forgets the being on a cold winter night that manages to earn his assistance.
It isn’t until years after the fact, when Kristopher has nothing more to do than stare blankly at his ceiling, that he realizes that perhaps it’s only because he saw himself in the lonely curled up form of a boy left in the snow.
Green. It washed over the island of Jeju, poking its head through the earth at the coming of spring and bursting forth, full of boisterous life and energy. The heat of summer was an unwelcome change from the regenerative rains of spring, he hated the heavy air, moisture palpable even amidst the scorching heat. Kristopher supposed he could have simply stayed inside where cool air was thankfully available in abundance but the walls of a building only made the restlessness under his skin itch, driving him under the shade of a forest canopy instead. There’s a poignant cry, of distress and alarm.
Kristopher’s first thought was one of an early lunch.
And again, red, to mar the sublime beauty of the landscape. He halts, the forest fading away into a world of white once more, the same boy from seasons ago, the scent of a fight picked that was too large for him to handle and the lingering presence of a wolf who, for a reason unbeknownst to him, who had abandoned an easy meal. Life still pulses through his veins, consciousness still present in his body. It’s a lot more awkward, Kristopher finds, to encounter him while he’s awake and bleeding his life out. He hovers over him, scooping him up into his arms, grimacing when his favorite white shirt is undeniably stained. “Hey, you’ll be alright, just try not to pass out on me, alright?”
