You can see your breath for miles. You hold back a watery, bitter chuckle at the word 'miles'. You don't know where your going exactly, but you just feel like moving. You wonder for a moment if it's just moving, or if it's running away, but you already know the answer, and you quickly deny it. The cold prickles against your skin, and you ask yourself why you didn't think to put on a coat before leaving. You stop, panting and trying to catch your breath as if it's running ahead of you. There's a bench near you, but you don't feel like sitting down, even though you probably should.

            You hear your name being called behind you. You start moving again. Your name begins to get louder, and more desperate. Maybe you should stop, but you don't. You slow down some as the cold starts to get to you, and you can hear the slaps of dress shoes hitting the pavement behind you. An apology echos along with each slap, but you refuse to listen. Listen or believe, you wonder again, and you decide that you'd rather not wonder anymore. You try to clear your head, but all you can think about are those rapid footsteps getting nearer and nearer.

            You stop. You turn around, and look the footsteps square in the face, and you fall. Your knees are probably bleeding, but you don't care. You don't care about anything but the footsteps. The footsteps stare at the tears rolling down your cheeks, and they drop too. For a moment, you feel pity for their knees as they hit the ground, but you shake that thought of pity away. You've given enough of your heartfelt emotions away. The footsteps speak a stream of apologies and you don't know how the footsteps knew you were upset, but they do. You remember thinking you had hid your disappointment so well when the footsteps had seen you walk out of their door. You remember waving goodbye and giving a shakey smile.

            You try to focus on what the footsteps are saying, but all you can hear are your thoughts telling you that you were stupid for thinking anything would happen between you and the footsteps. You break through your thoughts just in time to hear the footsteps say that they're the stupid one, and that they have always loved you.They say how it was completely idiotic that they pushed you away. After all you've done for them, the footsteps choke out, after you've cared when no one else tried. The footsteps explain how they saw you run, how they saw the hurt in your eyes when you left, and how sorry they were when they snapped at you. The footsteps gasp for breath, and so do you as you decide to pull them into a hug. You feel the footsteps relax against you as blue meets magenta, and you hold on with everything you have. For a moment, you feel a motherly presence staring at you, smiling in approval. And they can see your breath for Miles, but you don't care. You love him.


"Do you think...there's a chance for...'us'?"


"If you don't want to answer, just forg-"


"...oh. S-Sorry. I'd...better go."


" seeing you."


            You take in a quick breath, and it hurts. Suddenly, you become aware that you're in love. Of course, this realization comes to you too late, as you watch love walk out your door. You curse yourself for being so cold, so cynical. You know you shouldn't have snapped, but you did. You just couldn't accept that someone, anyone, could love someone like you. For some reason, you shiver, and you bitterly joke that it's because your heart has finally become ice. You walk to the window, and see love start to run away. You know you've hurt them, and you wonder for a minute if you should bother chasing after them.

            You find yourself running before you even know what's going on, and your brain finally catches up seconds later. You know you have to find love, you know you have to explain. You just don't know how. You worry if they'll even let you. Your mouth begins to function on its own, calling love's name desperately, frantically. You wonder if love is even listening to your screams. You wonder if love even believes in you anymore. You choke back a sob. You don't care if people are staring at you now, you just want to find love. Your dress shoes hit the pavement harder with each step, and you mentally repeat an apology with every slap.

            You see blue in the distance, and you realize it's love. You run faster, even though you know your past being out of breath. Love stops and turns around to face you, and before you can call their name again, love falls. You notice that love was crying, and you are suddenly aware that you've been crying too. You drop to the pavement, wincing as your knees hit. Before you can think, your mouth lets out a stream of apologies, and you know you're barely understandable, but you let your mouth continue. You remember thinking that the disappointment on love's face was so readable, so clear, and that smile love gave you shook with sadness. You just glared at love, like a fool. Like a cold, heartless, bitter fool.

            You try to tell love that they aren't stupid for thinking anything would happen between the two of you, but your mouth rattles on. You fight for control of your feelings, but letting your heart just pour out feels so good, and you figure it will stop eventually. You've never felt like this before. Love seems to be somewhere else, and you notice their brow is furrowed in thought. Your mouth cries out that you were the stupid one, and that you've always loved them. You regain control and say how it was completely idiotic that you pushed love away. After all they've done for you, you choke out, after they've cared when no one else tried. You explain how you saw love run, how you saw the hurt in their eyes when they left, and how sorry you were when you snapped at them. You gasp for breath, and so does love as you see their arms move and pull you in. You relax against love as magenta meets blue, and you feel love's grip get tighter. For a moment, you feel a fatherly presence staring at you, smiling in amusement. And you take a quick breath in, and it hurts, but you don't care. You love him.


            "Think it'll last?"

            The two figures chuckle, already knowing the answer.

            "Please, they've been crushing on eachother since gradeschool," the older figure, a man, says, "My Miles may be a handful, but I'm sure Phoenix can handle it."

            The other, a woman, smiles proudly, "I'm sure too."