Fanfiction: Seasons Of Change

Winter.

The season of frost, of ice and of death.

His season, or so that was what she said.

He was frost, he was ice and he was death.

She had a point, he conceded when she proposed that he was a wintry type of guy.

After all, he did enjoy winter more than any other season.

He did.

Surprisingly, he slowly came to enjoy the brief summers that shone on the perpetually icy continents of Trabia.

The hot season which was actually not very hot at all offered a brief respite from the harsh coldness.

Gone was the cold, gone was icy waters and gone were the snow.

Sun, the glorious sun, actually shone on the forsaken continent.

He was actually glad for it.

And he had her to thank for.

And that he did, walking up to her and offering his gratitude one day after a long and boring
meeting.

To the amazed expressions of his fellow underlings.

After all, he guess it wasn't an everyday occurence he would actually initiate any sort of
conversation.

Though it soon became a routine for him to chat her up, to watch her, to be with her.

To care for her, to enjoy her company, to comfort her.

To smile with her.

To laugh with her.

And the winter around him thawed into spring.

And so goes the saying that spring is filled with love.

And so he came to realize that his feeling for her were stronger than friendship.

Deciding to be cautious, he concluded that his feelings just breached the friendship line.

Fine and dandy with him, he thought.

So he decided to play it slow.

He walked with her.

He talked with her.

He ate with her.

He trained with her.

And he found out that he was enjoying her presence more and more.

Like the summer she introduced to him, he was beginning to warm up more to her, to his friends.

And like the summer she introduced to him, he was beginning to like her more.

Spring came and flitted, and summer stormed his life.

Summer, with its intensity, was like his affection for her.

He couldn't live without her, he couldn't breathe without her.

People began to notice.

How desperate he was to be with her.

How crazy he was for her.

People, but her.

She was either totally ignorant about his feelings for her, or she was simply wanting to keep their
friendship where it was.

He tended to think the latter.

And the summer raged on, brought on pest, irritance.

The uncertainties.

The probabiliies.

He was sinking back into his gloom, and with it summer gave birth to autumn.

Trees lost their leaves, just as his eyes lost their tears.

The dead leaves that floated softly down were very much like his dead tears which trailed his
angular cheekbones.

The hollow trees were his hollow feelings, emptiness, null, void.

But suddenly, she came to him.

She took his long slender hands into her small ones, and pressed them to her heart.

"This is yours."

"This has always been yours."

"This will always be yours."

That was what she said to him.

He took her in his arms and kissed her softly but deeply, fiercely but gently, passionately but lightly.

She is his.

She was his.

She will forever be his.

He repeated them in his head.

He repeated them during the winter, for the winter still came.

He repeated them during spring, when everything is carefree.

He repeated them during summer, when confusion over the indecisiveness of the season sets in.

He repeated them during autumn, when darkness seems to beckon.

Though the seasons would always change, though both good and bad times lie awaiting their coming, he knew, she will be the summer that he longs for.

That much he knew.

And he was satisfied.

A change of seasons was inevitable. It was common, predictable.

Yet, a season of changes for each and every man is uncertain. Unique and different. Very much like summer.