Moment Reflected in an Icicle

“Who’s there?”

I lit the match with a single strike. I could feel the flame bringing out the blush of my cheeks, the green of my eyes. And he just stared – stared as though he couldn’t quite believe that I’d come back. After all we’d done, the fights we’d fought. I had still come back to him.

I stood, fire in my hand. The candle took quickly and I let the splinter of burnt out wood slip from my fingers. Our eyes met again for a moment. His, like burning chestnuts in the flickering light, and set in such a white face.

Then, a rare smile – a twitch that I’d have missed if I’d blinked. He pulled me down to him. My knees became planted in the thin mattress, digging deep into the fabric on either side of his bare hips. Hands chased an autopsy line along his chest, drawing his pale skin to the naval.

“Nat…” My fingertip touched his lips, parted them, brushed his sharp, white teeth. His cheek was so soft beneath my palm.

“My love…” A kiss – the very least I could give his tainted perfection. “Mine.”

View this story's 12 comments.