Frost

11. December

♪ On the eleventh day of Christmas, Mr Jack Frost gave to me,
- Eleven giant sorrys
- Ten billion snowflakes
- Nine naughty curses
- Eight somewhat truths
- Seven lovely inches
- Six sexy sounds
- Five crazy words
- Four dirty smirks
- Three subtle hints
- Two tiny smiles,
- And a big shocker to my panties... ♪

•

"Who are those people?" Jack nodded towards an old photograph on her mantlepiece as he pulled on his pants. They had fallen asleep on the couch after burning a few of the many calories they had consumed.

Summer looked towards the framed picture of her and her parents, Christmas morning six years ago. The picture was taken in front of that same fireplace where they all had worn their matching sweaters. It had been the last full Christmas they had enjoyed together before her parents' death the next year. The day of Christmas Eve.

"My parents," Summer replied, feeling her throat close up at the mention. Even after so long, it was still a touchy subject to her. "They died in a car accident in the winter. Skidding on the ice in a snowstorm."

The constant Christmas lights in Jack's eyes suddenly died out. "They... did?"

She nodded. "That's the truth behind why I hate the snow. It's a death trap, it kills people every year. If it wasn't for that snowstorm, my parents would still have been alive today."

Jack had gone completely mute. Silently pulling on his t-shirt, he kept his eyes on the hardwood floor. "Oh."

"It's horrible," She confessed, looking down as well. "I'm probably the only person alive who wouldn't mind global warming taking out the snow. Or at least just wishing that the snow would one day stop falling, that—no offense to your name—one day, Jack Frost would stop coming."

Jack looked up reservedly, having finished putting on his clothes. "Right. Well, I suppose... we are all entitled to an opinion on things."

"I know you love winter and the snow," Summer said, suddenly feeling bad for bashing so hard on it. "I'm sorry. I got a bit carried away."

Jack just nodded and picked up his cane from the floor where he left it last night. "It's fine, but actually seems like the snow has quieted down some, so I should probably get going."

She knew she had upset him now. Last night he had talked about staying through the next day as well since it was Sunday, meaning no work. She had thought it an appealing idea, but now he wanted to leave all of a sudden. "I'm really sorry, Jack. I didn't think before speaking, I didn't consider that—"

"It's fine," He repeated, more persistently, giving her a smile that looked greatly forced. "But I should go anyway. I'll see you around, Summer."

Giving her a little nod, he walked up to her door, not even giving her a kiss or at least a hug for a goodbye before stepping out, beginning to plow his way through the deep snow. Summer felt a cold sensation lodge in her heart as she watched him go, venturing into the blistering cold, just to get away from her.

This was why she didn't open up. She bore such hatred to winter and the loss it had caused her, that anyone would be scared off by how much she truly had bottled up inside.