"There was an old story that my gran used to tell me when she was still alive." Mark leaned against the wall of the dilapidated coffee shop, it's appearance seeming shabbier than normal. He refused to look at you and you refused to look at him, both of your eyes trained on what was directly in front of you. The steam rolling off of your tea had never seemed more intriguing. He didn't respond.
"There once was a man and a woman. The man was the dictionary definition of white: completely absent of all color. He was an icy white blank canvas, bringing the cold and sorrows wherever he went. He always coated the world in white no matter where he went because he was jealous that the world could be so colorful and warm and he couldn't." You looked up at Mark, his caramel brown eyes trained on the park in the distance. He looked like he wanted to escape, but he cared too much about what you had to say to actually go anywhere. He glanced over to you and raised his eyebrow, urging you to go on. You looked back down at your tea and took a deep breath before continuing.
"The woman was the exact opposite. Loving, sweet, and enticing. She was warmth, her skin swirling with reds and yellows and oranges. She was color that the likes of the world had never seen. She pranced around the entire globe, bringing warmth and good tidings wherever she went." Mark pushed himself off of the wall, sitting down across from you at the table. He didn't look at you and you didn't look at him.
"Continue," he said softly, his voice deep with interest. You smiled sadly as you thought of your gran, remembering the last time she told you the story.
"One day, the two of them met. He hated her, but she thought he was the most wonderful creature she'd ever seen. He was confused, of course, because nothing and nobody had ever done anything except run away to escape his chill. He was hideous in his mind. She wouldn't stand for it, though, and showed him how truly beautiful he was. She showed him how to make snow, each individual crystal more beautiful than the last. He was amazed by not only himself, but the woman who showed him how to love himself. They couldn't help but fall for each other."
"Seems pretty cheesy," Mark commented, a small smile on his face.
"The story isn't over just yet," you stated, glancing up at him with a grin. The corners of his lips turned up to match. "Anywho, they fell in love. She couldn't help but adore the very nature of his being, and he wasn't immune to the beauty of her personality and body. They decided to be together, dancing around the earth as it spun to deliver the two seasons of summer and winter." The wind blew the deep, bitter scent of Mark's coffee your way. You smiled for a moment as you remembered the rest of the story. "But then tragedy struck. She was off playing with a family of deer when a fawn lost its balance and fell down a steep hill. She caught it before it traveled down too far, shielding its body with her own." Leaves fell from nearby trees, landing gently on the cement around your table. Mark sat silently across from you, waiting for you to continue.
"The man had realized right away what had happened and ran as fast as he could to get to her side. She was dying, her vibrant colors draining out of her body. The man picked her up and placed her in his lap, running his fingers through her hair to calm her down." Mark was looking down at his hands. They were woven together tightly, his knuckles white as the clouds that floated high above you. You swallowed before continuing. "She knew she was dying, and told him to promise that he'd continue their dance by himself. She made him promise that he'd make sure that her colors did not become foreign to their world. And he kept his promise. He changed the seasons from winter to summer, adding two other seasons in between them each to remind the world of his love. To this day he continues his dance, allowing the world to remember his beloved and her reds and yellows and oranges."
"Why did you tell me that story?" Mark asked quietly. You pried his hands apart and held onto them, squeezing them tightly. He looked up at you shamefully, his eyes screaming with guilt. You could tell that he was trying everything in his power not to apologize right then and there.
YOU ARE READING
The Grim Reaper (Markiplier AU)
Fanfiction**ON TEMPORARY HIATUS** He had bright red hair on top of his head, the brown going around the sides and the back. He wore glasses that fit his face perfectly, and a jawline that could cut glass. His skin was tan; not like someone who sunbathed frequ...
