lilac skies » luka couffaine

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚.

THE wintry sun was the brightness of the day, taking centre stage as the blooms of the summertime became a part of the soil. The sunshine and cold, the sparkle and the ice, somehow warm even when the north wind bit. A boy, one in the medial of adolescence, shuffled his high-tops along the whiteness of the December snow. He felt his patience decay like the last leaves on the branches of the tree for every moment his eyes shifted around, only failing to glimpse what he was seeking. A pair of curious eyes would fix their gazes towards him every once in a while, wondering of the concern of this boy, what must he be possibly doing alone standing next to a thin leafless tree in the midst of the bitter wind, which remarkably, he seemed to be unfazed by though his lips were at the point of cracking.

Finally, a smaller adolescent figure came to his vision. A soft crunch of the snow issued from every hasty step as she advanced towards the boy. Her beaming smile was a prepossessing sight, he couldn't resist disregarding the dissatisfaction of his long wait and smiling back. She was here, and that was what mattered.

"Sorry I came late," Puffs of cold air issued from her lips as she panted. "My parents made me go with them to stop by at the boulangerie. I'm gonna make it up to you—you can have half a dozen of muffins."

He frowned. "Half a dozen only?"

She chuckled and handed him a light-blue pastry box affixed with a fancy dark-blue ribbon. "See this — it's a big box. So one would know it's actually a whole dozen."

One would have expected the boy to be delighted, but his playful frown had become a genuine one upon coming to a realization. She only ever gifted him something as an apology; a month ago, she gave him a small box of macarons when she broke one of the strings on his guitar by accident. A few days back, she'd misjudged a band he liked, and because it was only a minor offense, she gave a single vanilla cupcake. The higher the severity of the offense, the more pastries.

He was certain the dozen of muffins wasn't an apology for her tardiness, but rather for a different reason. She handed him a paper bag with two baguettes in it — that was the apology for arriving late.

Her smile faded. "I don't wanna get straight to the point."

He shook his head disapprovingly. "Just do it and get it over with."

She heaved a sigh, releasing a bigger puff of her breath. "I'm moving to Canada."

Upon hearing those four simple words, his heart sank, and he didn't bother to conceal the dread that crept over him like an icy chill.

"My parents have business in Montreal," she continued, when he didn't respond. "But I still have to finish collège here, so I have seven months left until we depart."

Seven months, he breathed. Rearranging his face into something he hoped was nonchalant and casual-looking, he took her hands in his. "We're going to spend every minute of it together, then." He said, lips managing to form a smile as he gently rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs. Foreheads pressed, eyes shut as little ice crystals drifted onto their heads and coats. Breaths mingled in the winter air, before he closed the space between them. Cold lips brushed against cold lips, yet the warmth of their touch prevailed.

The pair of young lovers hovered right there, quite soundless for so long, simply bathing in the bliss of each other's presence.

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