love in snow.
"What's red?" Your eyes are soft. They're a shade of grey.
"Why, don't you know?" They darken.
"No," I look away.
"Red is warm," You pause and frown. The creases on your forehead are cute. "But red can be many things. It can be overwhelming, say when you are embarrassed, or when you're angry. It's a thing that can be beautiful, but can be destructive. Like fire. Nice to watch, and huddle by when you're cold, but if it's out of control, it can be a nightmare."
I nod. But I still don't know
And so I wonder if your eyes are red.
A chill trickled down my back as I entered the building. Even though the air was warm, and the place was packed, I couldn't help but feel cold. Maybe it was because they weren't there.
Usually one of them would notice me shivering and give me their coats or hug me, but I was alone this time. Now that I look at all the people laughing and dancing, it makes me realize I always was the loner. And that without them, I'm naked.
As I moved through the crowd, a girl caught my eye. She sat with the bartender, slowly stirring a glass of water with her finger. Her hair curtained her face. Then I got the crazy idea that maybe she needed someone to talk to. But then he came up to her.
He slung his bare arm around her neck and put his lips close to her ear. This caused another series of chills go up my back. She smiled and got up. He held her hand for a moment and then caught my eye. He gave a little nod, as if to say, "You come too."
I followed them silently into a booth. A girl sat on each side of him. The one from earlier clung onto his left arm. She smiled wearily. Her eyes looked glazed over.
"So..." He drew out a cigarette from his pocket. The girl on his right lit it up for him. I rolled my eyes. These were his fan girls, no doubt. "Yeah, I guess you can call them that." He chuckled. I stared. Did I talk out loud?
"Jackson..." But his laughter stopped me. His eyes weren't laughing. "Jackson," I started again.
All of a sudden, a hand grabbed onto Jackson's arm. A tall man with dark eyes spoke with him rapidly, in a language I had never heard before. It sounded choppy and very flat.
"There's a fire," he ended, with the most emotionless face I have ever seen. Jackson nodded, and the girl on his right made a strange sound. I noticed the girl with the glazed eyes dug her fingers into his arm.
"Let's go then," Jackson stood up. His eyes were glistening. The girl just stayed sitting, her hand tightly clamped around his.
Then he left.
I stared at the girl. I knew I should've been going but something pulled me to stay. "Why aren't you going?" I could feel a hand clamp onto my shoulder and pull me away from her.
"I had to leave sometime," She shrugged. Her voice was small and soft.
"Wha—?" Someone pulled me out of the building. The place was getting hot, and glowed eerie amber. But something was odd.
Outside, Jackson had a towel draped over him. He shivered as he watched the flames consume the building. Tears were running down his cheeks. "That girl's still inside," I said, my fingers clenched. "Why aren't you doing anything? Why isn't anyone doing anything?"
Jackson just continued staring at the building. The light of the fire danced on his face. "I was surprised you even saw her," He whispered. His face cocked to the side. "Is this what red is?"
I thought this question was funny.
Because the girl's eyes were red.