Fire and Ice
I can't say I didn't see it coming. My whole life has been a Hallmark movie. One tender, Hollywood-perfect moment after another. Everything from tragedy to happily-ever-afters occurring all around me. I'm caught up in the middle of all of it...
And somehow, I'm still the stone-cold, emotionless wench I've been my whole life. Stone is good, I find, when dealing with fire and ice.
You two...you jerks that I've, for some reason, placed all my trust in. You're like fire and ice, the two of you. The only two that are inaccessible to me.
James, you turn everything you touch to ice. Your eyes are like death, like frozen drops of water, hanging from branches, unable to escape...exactly that color.
Your heart is the same way. Perhaps it's that which drew me to you. Our similar souls, glittering with the breath of winter, beautiful on the surface, seemingly so pure. And yet, so dangerous.
My gaze may be stopping, and I may freeze those that come too close, but my words...
...are made of fire.
Words mean more to me, and mine light up like dawn, setting everything around me ablaze.
Hot, even from afar, they melt your ice and make you scramble for cover, for defense. I have a quick temper, it moves through me like molten lava, infecting every part of me, alerting my senses to a challenge. There's only one other person I know who's blood boils hotter than mine.
Elijah, you burn everything you set your eyes on. I know when you're about to explode, because you try to control your expression, you make some slight attempt, but you're flushing crimson from your toes to the tips of your ginger hair. And your eyes sink from that burning color to the hottest part of the flame, a blue, lighter, down to a green, burning hotter...exactly that color.
You spit fire when you speak, everything you say is too far, too aggressive, and you start to destroy things. Instead of quenching the fire, I fight back with my own flames. And soon enough, we're burning each other down.
But I can't stop myself, I crave this inferno that seems to melt away the frozen wasteland I've been living in for the past year. I feel like my cells are being torn apart, bursting with too much heat, too fast. But I've been floating in cold, stagnant waters far too long, and my desire to feel warmth again exceeds the average human temperature. So now, I'm burning alive.
The problem is, you don't want to thaw me out. And James, you didn't want to just cool me down. The both of you are trying to kill me, and sooner or later I'm going to be nothing but ashes. That is, if James doesn't freeze me to death first.
I can't hide from my emotions, inside my stone shell, no matter how contradictory they may be. Eventually, I'll crack. I'll shatter.
For the first time, I am wishing for winter to be over, I'm wishing for a Texas summer. For the first time, I am desperate for the crackle of dry heat on my skin. And for the first time, my fingers type a question rather than a story.
How does one fight fire and ice? ...at the same time?