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They met on the first of February.
It was cold, but not cold enough to stay inside and not sell matches. Why do we sell them one by one? Levi remembered asking. Why not sell them in a bundle? People would be more willing to buy a bundle. He remembered getting smacked after that and he never asked again.
He stood there on the street corner as the snow fell and clung to his hair and eyelashes. He shivered beneath his thin coat, rubbing his hands up and down his arms to keep warm. It didn’t help much.
It was quite a demeaning task, really. Standing out there, thin as a poll and white as the falling snow with hair darker than night in a holey coat trying to sell matches one by one to people that passed. All while shivering and cursing under his breath about being hungry, asking people “would you like to buy a match?” to which he would only get a seconds glance before they continued on their way.
And that’s why he hated people. He hated his father; the abusive bastard sitting at home, shrouded in blankets beside the furnace, drinking the liquor he purchased with the money Levi got selling matches—money he was supposed to be using to buy food. Levi also hated the people passing him on the streets that gave him a seconds glance, and those people that didn’t even stop to look at him at all.
There was only one person he didn’t hate, and that was the little boy staring at him from across the street. His little nose was red and his eyes were bright as the sun and as green as the summer fields. His rosy cheeks were accompanied by the red scarf draped around his neck and above his mouth, but not quite covering his nose.
Levi watched as the little boy tugged on his mother’s sleeve, and he watched as the woman bent down to hand him some money, and he watched the little boy walk across the street in his little coat and little scarf, snow clinging to his brunet locks, to join him at the corner.
The little boy, whom carried the heavy scent of firewood, held out a fifty cent coin and Levi’s eyes sparkled. That was the largest sum of money he had ever received in one purchase alone. He quickly divided the matches up, giving the little boy ten (as it was 5 cents per match) and taking the coin.
Then he watched the little boy walk away.
When Levi got home that night, he showed his father the fifty cent coin, but instead of being praised, he still got hit. He got accused of stealing it from someone, and was sent to bed without dinner (not that there was anything to eat anyway). He was woken up early the next morning by the sound of his growling stomach and sat up, dizzy from lack of energy.
Regardless, he was still sent out to sell matches. Levi stood at the same corner though this time he was dozing off. He didn’t even notice he was being approached until small hands tugged on his fingers to wake him up.
Looking down, he saw the little boy from the day before, the same big smile on his face. His eyes sparkled once his and Levi’s eyes made contact, and he opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it before giving Levi a handful of five cent coins.
As Levi reached into his coat pocket to pull out enough matches to equal the amount of money, the little boy tugged on his fingers again. Their eyes met once more.
“What is it?” He watched the cloud his breath made in the cold air.
“Hi.” The little boy said quickly, then turned and ran off, leaving Levi with ten five cent pieces and a pocket full of matches.
An hour passes before Levi’s legs refuse to hold him up any longer. He sits on the cold street corner, shaking in his holey coat with an empty stomach and a bruised body. Another hour passes before he’s fallen asleep with his knees tucked up to his chest and his head using his knees as a pillow.
When he wakes up, he’s warmer than he was when he had fallen asleep. He doesn’t realize why at first, but when he finds the strength to stand, something red sways in the corner of his eye. Then he realizes he’s wearing a scarf. A very warm, soft, red wool scarf. Levi’s shaking fingers grazed the soft fabric before he wraps it around his neck and mouth and nose, and he feels twice as warm as he was when he left home that morning.
The scarf held the scent of firewood.
Levi doesn’t want to go home that evening because he knows his father will question the scarf, but he goes. As it turns out, his father pays no mind to the red warmth wrapped around Levi and only cares about the money he made. Levi hands the coins to his father, and for the first time in what seems like his entire life, Levi was not hit. He still wasn’t given anything to eat though. Not that there was anything to eat anyway.
He wasn’t woken up as early today, not that the extra sleep helped with regaining the energy he didn’t have in the first place. And per usual, Levi was sent out in the cold snow to sell matches. The difference this time, though, was he was a little bit warmer.
Today, Levi actually sold a few matches to passerby’s who only uses them to light their cigarettes. Still, he had made money so he didn’t care what they used the damned things for. What he did care about was the fact that he hadn’t eaten in what felt like a week, and he didn’t have the strength to stand again.
Try as he might, fatigue and hunger got the best of him and he collapsed to the ground. He managed to find the strength to pull himself into a ball, pulling his knees to his chest and laying his head against his knees. This time, however, he didn’t fall asleep, because as soon as he was “comfortable”, he felt a small hand gently pat his shoulder, followed by the strong scent of firewood.
“You again?” Levi said, looking into the familiar face of the little boy who had come to see him two days in a row. “You left me your scarf.”
“Yeah,” The little boy replied.
It was then that Levi smelled something along with firewood. He sat up straight to look around, and when looking back at the little boy, a basket was being held in his face. “What’s this?”
“A boiled potato and a loaf of bread.”
“And why are you holding it in my face?”
“Because I want you to eat it.”
Levi blinked. “Why?”
“Because.”
Arguing was futile, as the hunger was getting to him. The little boy watched as Levi scarfed down the still warm loaf of bread and bit into the boiled potato. He was still hungry when what the little boy had given him was gone, but felt so much better now that he had eaten something (even better, it was fresh!).
“Kid, tell me something,” Levi forced himself up. “Why’d you leave me your scarf?”
“How’d you know it was mine?”
“Lucky guess.”
The little boy shrugged. “You looked cold.”
“And why did you bring me food?”
“Because you looked hungry.”
Levi wasn’t one to push things so he just nodded. “Right, okay.”
After a moment, the little boy pulled out two five cent pieces and pushed them into Levi’s pocket. Levi didn’t protest until the little boy started poking his fingers through the holes in Levi’s coat.
“What are you doing that for?” He asked.
“My mommy can make you a warmer coat,” Was the little boy’s answer.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Well that’s my answer.”
Levi then watched as the little boy walked away with his empty basket. Who was this kid? Why was he being so kind? Whatever. He gave Levi a warm scarf and something to eat. He gave him money. Levi wasn’t a charity case—he was, but he’d never admit it.
Refusing to admit something didn’t stop him from accepting the little boy’s company when he came to visit him at the street corner every day.
Day four – the little boy showed up with another basket, this time it had two loaves of bread and a chunk of beef. When Levi asked him where he was getting all this food, the little boy merely replied with “my kitchen”, before watching Levi finish every morsel of food and leaving him to sell his match sticks in the snow. Levi made a total of one dollar that day, counting the twenty one cents the little boy gave him before leaving. He was not beaten that night, and he slept by the furnace with a full stomach—no thanks to his father.
Day five – the little boy arrived with a long metal capped cup and a single wedge of cheese. When questioned, he told Levi that it was a thermos of hot chocolate, which was the little boy’s favorite drink. Levi didn’t complain, ate the cheese, drank the hot beverage, and forgot to ask the little boy his name before he walked away with the empty thermos. He made a total of fifty seven cents that day and curls up in his blankets by the furnace, the little boy’s scarf never leaving its place around his neck.
Day six – the little boy shows up with the thermos again, along with an assortment of goodies in the familiar basket. There was bread, meat, a boiled potato, and cheese, all organized in their own place in the basket. The little boy watched him eat as he always did, and then gave him the thermos. It was hot chocolate again. Before the little boy could walk away, Levi stopped him.
“What’s your name anyway?”
He received a smile. “Eren.”
After Eren walked away with the empty basket and thermos, Levi stood there repeating the new name to himself.
He made a total of two dollars that day—with the addition of what Eren had shoved in his pockets while Levi was eating—and was not beaten that night either. Instead of sleeping by the furnace, he slept, curled up in two blankets on his actual bed with Eren’s scarf in its usual place.
Day seven – Eren showed up earlier than normal this day with something Levi wasn’t expecting. Before Levi could say anything, the younger boy gave him a folded fabric. When Levi unfolded it, a shroud-like blanket-looking item hung from his grip.
“It’s a shawl. It’s like a blanket and a coat put together.” Eren explained. “It’ll keep you warmer than you would be with just that jacket you always wear.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s your name, by the way?” Eren handed Levi something else, something wrapped in paper and no bigger that the palm of his own hand.
“It’s Levi.” Levi unwrapped what Eren had just given him and looked at younger boy, confused as to what he now held. “And what is this?”
“It’s a macaroon. They’re really good. My daddy’s friend and her daughter make them sometimes, and when they do, they send some to us. Eat it.”
Levi didn’t argue. He sunk his teeth into the soft cookie and the sweet flavor of the macaroon filled his mouth. He would have eaten the entire thing, but when he saw Eren hadn’t walked away yet, Levi broke the rest of the macaroon in half and held it out to the boy. “Want it?”
“Thank you.”
The two ate their snack in silence. Then Eren walked away as always.
Levi slept on his bed again that night, curled in his two blankets, the shawl, and the scarf in its regular place.
Day eight – Eren was waiting for Levi at the street corner that day. The two of them didn’t talk on this day, but Eren took half of the match sticks from Levi’s pocket and helped him sell without asking or being asked. They had made good business that day, five dollars and twelve cents. When Levi was finished counting the money, he turned to thank Eren only to see that the little boy was halfway down the street already.
Levi’s father wasn’t home until late that night, and the teen was sound asleep when the man entered the house. He was drunk out of his mind, an open bottle in one hand and an empty one in the other. And he was angry about something. He took it out on Levi, waking the teen up with his hollering, thrashing him around and asking where he got the “gay scarf”. When Levi tried to take it back, the man jerked it out of Levi’s grip and tore it largely, making it unusable.
Levi went to sleep that night with a busted lip and a bruise above his left eye, curled up in his blankets and only the shawl that smelled of firewood.
Day nine – Levi left before his father woke up that morning. He stood in the usual spot, waiting for his young friend to join him when the sun was high at noon. It was getting colder; he could feel the chill on his neck. Eren hadn’t showed up until after two.
“I was worried you wouldn’t show.” Levi joked.
“Sorry,” Eren stood beside him, a wrapped macaroon in both hands. He held one out to Levi and didn’t speak again until the teen took it. “My daddy was doing tests and I couldn’t leave.”
Levi had begun to tear the paper from his treat. “Tests?”
“He’s a doctor.” Eren told him, unwrapping his macaroon and taking a bite.
“Ah.”
“I’m sick,” Eren took a second bite of his macaroon, looking up at the sky as snow began to sprinkle down from the clouds.
“I’m sorry,” Levi ruffled the boy’s hair. “Should be getting better though, eh? Your dad being a doctor and all.”
Eren smiled. “That’s what mommy says. So yeah.” The boy looked toward Levi. “Where’s your scarf?” he blinked, big green eyes beginning to fill with terror. “What happened to your lip? Your eye?”
Levi exhaled deeply. “It… was just a confrontation with my father. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
The younger boy furrowed his brows and began to pull Levi along by his hand. Levi didn’t protest—nobody was really out today since it was so cold—as Eren lead him down the street in the direction he always went. He led him to a part of town Levi had never been before, and pulled open the door. Warmth greeted the two as Eren pushed Levi inside ahead of him after shutting the door behind him.
Eren then took him by the hand and took him to the first room on the left—a small kitchen filled with the smells of delicious foods. A brunette woman turned to face them.
“Uh—”
Levi was quickly cut off by the smaller boy. “Mommy this is my friend Levi. Can you fix his lip?”
Levi ended up staying for dinner at Eren’s house that night. He met Dr. Grisha Jaeger, a nice man who wore small round spectacles, and Mrs. Carla Jaeger, a kind woman with a talent for baking bread and sewing holes in jackets.
When he went home that night, his father was passed out on beside the furnace, a half empty bottle of liquor in his hand. Levi was quiet to get to his bed, curl up beneath his blankets, and snuggle the shawl while remaining in his fixed jacket.
Day ten – since Eren always gave Levi money when he came to see him, it didn’t really matter if he sold the matches. They ended up taking a walk to the park. It was surprisingly warm on this day—not above forty, but warmer than it had been. They now sit side by side on the swings, barely moving as they just talked.
“Sorry,” Eren was the first to speak. “I talk about you to my parents a lot.” Levi looked at him. “After my mom and me saw you on the first, she wanted me to make sure you were okay the next day. And when I was walking making a round to the post office, I saw you sleeping so I gave you my scarf.”
“Ah…” Levi blinked. “So you pitied me.”
“No.” Eren replied. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t catch a cold.”
The two got silent again, now swinging their legs back and forth to make the swings move as they were supposed to. It didn’t entertain them very long, as their legs came to a stop and not long after, the swings did too.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Levi finally asked.
Eren stared down at the snowy ground and wiggled his legs back and forth, but not in the correct movement to get his swing moving again. “I told you. I’m sick.”
“Some cold.”
Eren didn’t respond for quite some time. When he did, it had nothing to do with what they were talking about before. “How old are you Levi?”
“I’m fifteen.”
“I’m ten.” The brunet told him.
Levi nodded. “I assumed you were about ten. When is your birthday?”
“March thirtieth,” The boy hummed, smiling at his friend. “When’s yours?”
That stopped Levi dead in his tracks. He… had no idea when his birthday was. His father never celebrated it with him or even uttered the words “happy birthday” to him once that he could recall, if ever. But Levi couldn’t tell Eren this. Whether the kid pitied him or not, Levi was not a charity case… he wasn’t! So he spat out the first date that came to mind.
“December twenty-fifth.”
After an excited babble session on how Levi’s birthday was on Christmas, the two left the park and made a trip back to Eren’s house. Levi stayed for dinner again and Eren even asked if he wanted to spend the night. He thought about it. His father wouldn’t even know he was gone.
“If it’s okay with your mom,”
Eren shot big green puppy eyes at Carla who caved easily.
Eren showed Levi to his room and jumped about excitedly. “I’ve never had a friend spend the night!” The boy told him. “What do you want to do? I have a bunch of games, or we could tell stories, or draw, or—”
“I think we should clean your room, Eren.” Levi said.
The two spent their night cleaning. Eren’s room wasn’t messy, just disorganized and cluttered. Once everything was sorted and put where it could stay without being an eyesore, the two boys collapsed on Eren’s bed, only to quickly scramble to get underneath the blankets. Eren’s bed was comfortable and warm as were his blankets and pillows. Levi’s eyes began to get heavy, but he didn’t fall asleep before Eren, who had absentmindedly ended up cuddling the teen. Levi didn’t mind.
Day Eleven – When Levi woke up, Eren was no longer in the bed. He figured he was somewhere else in the house with Carla, perhaps the kitchen eating breakfast. Thought when he walked out of Eren’s bedroom, the house was silent.
He found Carla sitting alone at the kitchen table with her head buried beneath her arms. He sat beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, feeling her shake under his palm. Then he heard the whimpers. She was crying.
“Mrs. Jaeger? What’s the matter?”
That was when Levi learned that when Eren had meant he was sick, he meant terminally ill. Carla broke down; slowly explain to the teen that Eren was born with a rare blood condition. It didn’t affect him emotionally, but he was physically becoming weaker and weaker by each day. Carla also explained why in such a short time, Eren had grown so attached to the teen whether he saw it or not.
“He thinks you’re like him. He thinks that you’re out there selling matches every morning to get money for your treatment…”
Eren had lied to him. It wasn’t Carla that had been worried about him on the first day, but it was Eren. Eren, that adorably annoying ten-year-old who couldn’t hold a conversation past three sentences.
“So he’s dying.” Levi concluded in a low voice.
Carla nodded. “Yes… Grisha took him in to get some blood work done… but there isn’t really anything they can do… there isn’t a cure for it. They don’t even have a name for it.”
“And… does Eren know he’s dying?”
“No,” Carla looked down at the table again. “He knows he’s ill though, and he knows it’s rare, but we don’t have the heart to tell him…” She started shaking, and in less than a second she had broken down into a second fit of tearful sobs. “My baby is dying… and there’s nothing I can do about it…”
All Levi could do was attempt to comfort the woman. And he did just that. He didn’t have any words for her, but just sat there with his hand on her shoulder and staying silent until she had calmed down again.
“He had friends in school,” Carla looked at Levi once more. “They didn’t understand why he had to be taken out. Nor did their parents. Their parents thought what he had was contagious… So… thank you, Levi. Thank you for being there for Eren. I know you’ve only known him for a week but… it means a great deal to me that you would choose to spend your time with my boy…”
“He’s a great kid.” Levi replied almost silently. “He has a good heart…” (Ironically speaking.)
Levi left the Jaeger household around noon that day. Eren and Grisha still had not returned and Levi wanted to leave before Carla could see his emotions seep through his cracking once-rough exterior.
His tears were icy down his face as he walked home. Why was it the one person in this world that ever gave a damn about him was dying? Why was it that this ten-year-old-boy, selfless in all measures, was cursed with a blood condition that was slowly killing him? It’s not fair. Eren was a good boy. He was kind and Levi’s judgment of Character wasn’t all that great seeing as he was raised by an abusive alcoholic all his life, but he could still tell Eren was a saint among… well, the entire human population.
When he entered the house, his father looked up from the newspaper. “Levi,”
It was almost as though, for a split second, maybe Levi’s father cared about his son, and that he didn’t come home the night before, and that he was crying. But no. The cold bastard didn’t give a damn.
“Did you sell?”
Levi was in no mood to deal with anyone. He’d rather just go to sleep in his own bed and forget about the world. He pulled all of the coins out of his pockets and placed them on the table before moving around his father and climbing into bed. He pulled the covers over his head and tried to fall asleep, only to lie awake for three and a half hours listening to the sounds of his father getting drunk off his ass.
Day twelve – Levi went out right after he woke up. He didn’t even care if he sold anything today—he hadn’t grabbed the new bundle of matches on the way out, so there wasn’t much for him to sell anyway. Two hours went by and he shot glares at anyone who passed. It was another warmish day, but it didn’t truly feel warm until something carrying the scent of firewood joined him.
“Hi.” Eren greeted him.
Levi didn’t respond.
“Sorry I didn’t see you yesterday.
Levi remained silent.
“You should spend the night again. Mom said we could roast marshmallows in the fireplace. Sound fun?”
Levi glanced down at the boy and cracked a smile. “Okay.”
They didn’t make it far down the road before Eren collapsed in the melting snow. Levi paused to look back at him.
“Oi. Eren. You alright?”
This time it was Eren who didn’t respond. Levi turned quickly to drop down beside the boy.
“Eren?!”
“Ha!” The boy popped up and giggled, hurling a snowball in Levi’s face. “I got you, I got you! You looked so worried!”
Levi wanted to be angry, but the laughter was contagious and he joined in.
That night, the two boys roasted marshmallows in the Jaeger’s fireplace and fell asleep in front of it, Eren cuddled up to Levi just as he was the first night Levi spent there.
Day thirteen – When Levi woke up, Eren was still sound asleep beside him. Sometime during the night, Carla or Grisha must have covered them up, as a blanket now spread over the two boys.
Levi was up and stretched his arms above his head, yawning in the process. Eren snuggled closer to him, nuzzling his head gently against Levi’s hip before rolling over onto his other side and curling into a little Eren-y ball.
After some time, the younger woke up and he and Levi played a game of charades while waiting for Grisha and Carla to wake up.
The teen ended up spending the whole day with the Jaeger’s. Not that he minded. Eren was the most wonderful person to be around, Carla was kind and sweet, offering Levi something to eat or drink every so often, and Grisha… well, he was doing his best to keep the closest thing Levi had to a best friend alive.
Eren practically begged Levi to spend a third night over, but Levi insisted that he had to go home. But he promised he’d stay another night, if Eren didn’t act like a brat. That only received an annoyed look that hid a smile. And then that smile came full force.
Eren decided he should at least walk Levi to the corner on the road. The two playfully pushed each other along the way, laughing and smiling (Yes, Levi, too, was smiling and laughing) until they reached the spot they always met at. Levi turned to watch Eren go, but he broke when seeing a red liquid leak from Eren’s nose.
Less than a second after Eren’s nose has begun bleeding, he had started coughing, spitting blood out into the snow and then collapsing on top of it. Levi got down beside him and began to panic.
“Shit, Eren, no, please tell me you’re playing,” Levi begged, shaking the younger boy. “Eren, please, jump up and throw a snowball in my face—oh my god—Eren you—are you breathing? Eren?!”
Levi swept Eren up into his arms and began racing down the road back to the Jaeger household. Eren’s nose and mouth had become the pathways for bloody streams and Levi was shaking. Not because of the cold. No, he was horrified.
He didn’t need to knock this time, feeling he could nearly rip the door off it’d hinges. Levi hadn’t intended to track snow, but now was no time to be nitpicky about a mess. “DR. JAEGER!?”
Grisha appeared a few moments later, slow paced until he saw his son bloody-faced and barely breathing in Levi’s arms. All hope and color and life practically drains from the boy’s face, Grisha quickly took the boy from the fifteen year old and ordered Carla to get his supplies from the storehouse.
As Carla rushed outside to get said supplies, Grisha lay Eren on the floor of the main room beside the fireplace. “Levi, please watch him for a moment,” and the man was out of the room before Levi could even respond.
Levi knelt down beside the younger boy and held Eren’s hand in his own shaking ones. “Eren, you can’t do this to me… come on, Eren… please. Please cut it out, Eren…” I can’t lose you, okay? You’re the only good thing I have. You’re the only person who has ever cared about me. Please don’t go. Please don’t—
“Hey…” Eren murmured so quietly Levi almost didn’t hear him.
“Eren! Eren, oh my god—”
“Just so you know…” His voice grew weaker; Levi held his own breath so that he could hear Eren talk. “…I know you’re… not sick like me… I just wanted an excuse to be your friend…”
“Oh my god…” Levi squeezed the boy’s hand. “Eren, no. Eren please, you’re my best friend okay? Please don’t g—Eren open your eyes. Eren open your—EREN PLEASE OPEN YOU FUCKING EYES!”
Day seventeen – Levi hadn’t seen the Jaegers in four days. He couldn’t go back there now. He had held the hand of a dying child and watched as all life and existence drained from that child. His best friend was gone. The only person that ever gave a damn about him was gone. And now what did he have?
He had these fucking match sticks and his drunken father.
No… he still had the shawl that Eren gave him—that’s different. It would’ve been different if the shawl was Eren’s. But it didn’t have the same firewood smell that Eren did. Not like the scarf. Not like the breadbasket. Not like Eren’s room.
Not like Eren.
Levi slammed the door shut as he stepped inside. He could practically taste the liquor as well as smell it. His father stood, his speech slurring as he spoke. “Y’lil fu’ker. Wha’ja git?”
“I didn’t sell.”
“Din’t sell… well fuck. Y’know w’need th’money, n’yer lazy ass not bein’ able to sell ‘em matches is really—”
“My best friend died four days ago.” Levi said. His father stared at him. “I held his hand as he died, crying and screaming, begging for him not to die, because he was the only person to ever give a shit about me in my entire life.”
“Well maybe if you—”
“Shut the fuck up you alcoholic piece of shit.” Levi wasn’t yelling. His tone was stern and his voice was low, calm, level. “My best friend died. I am going through emotional trauma. Have you ever watched a child die? Have you ever watched the best thing in your life fucking die?”
“Now look’ere you little—”
“You know what? Fuck you. We don’t need the money, you need the alcohol because you live a sorry excuse for a life. Maybe if you were a better fucking father like Dr. Jaeger, you’d see how precious life is and not treat me like the piece of trash that you wish you weren’t. And maybe mom wouldn’t have left you. Bye.”
Levi turned to walk out when he was yanked back by the end of the shawl. He heard it rip. His heart tore. He was so fucking done.
He thrust his elbow back into his father’s throat and knocked the taller man to the ground. When his father hit the ground, the bottle of liquor he held broke, shattering along the floor. Levi’s father look up at him with bloodshot eyes.
“And fuck your god damn match sticks.”
The teen stormed out and was nearly knocked over by the intense wind. He forced himself onward, shivering through the icy wind and snow blowing in his face. His black hair blew around due to the wind and he shivered whilst making his way toward the street corner where he and Eren always met at.
Maybe… just maybe the last five days were just a bad dream, and Eren was well and happy at home, drinking hot chocolate and eating macaroons by the fire. Levi liked to believe this… and he pushed on. Toward the Jaeger household.
It was dark and he wasn’t sure which way he was going, so slowly, he pulled the last matchstick from his pocket and ran it against his pant-leg to light it. The small light from the match didn’t exactly help with lighting the way, but the small flame between his fingers was warm…
And…
It smelt like firewood…
…Firewood…
“Hi.”
Hey.
“I haven’t seen you in a few days.”
It’s okay.
“Wanna play charades again?”
Sounds like a plan.
“Hey, Levi?”
What is it?
“You’re my best friend.”
I’m glad you feel the same.
“I’m glad you’re with me now.”
Let’s go play charades.
“There’s hot chocolate too!”
Wonderful. I love you, ya know. You made things better for me.
“Haha. Yeah. I love you too.”
Okay. Let’s go
Day eighteen – the blizzard had lasted through the night, doing no real damage to homes, but having the temperature drop drastically outside.
Carla opened her door to check how high the snow had gotten and screamed, backing away from what she had seen. After a moment, she slowly made her way toward the door once more and outside.
A boy with short black hair sat against a building, eyes clamped shut with a small smile on his face. In his hands, a frozen match stick.