❄ 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻.

[regalitie]

( texts | prompts | starters | etc. )

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[fasts]

why is cold right now? i'm not having a good time with the weather.

[regalitie]

it isn't that bad outside — is it?

( the cold never bothered him anyway ... )

[fasts]

it's really cold! i run hot usually and this is too cold! what's going on?

[soothsayers]

[ it's really not every day you find yourself in possession of one bougie-looking kid who's just about your age but acts like he is from not just another country but another time period entirely. milo blinks a few times when he spies the tufs of silvery hair beneath blankets on his ( comfortable, thanks much ) couch, still in bed himself. he yawns, stretches one way, stretches the other, and eventually pulls himself out of bed.

he runs a hand through teal hair, not that it helps or anything, but it at least momentarily gets the longer ends out of his face as he shuffles over to take a better look at the temporary resident in his little studio. a european, he thought, but that doesn't seem entirely right because there is something otherworldly about him that he can't quite put his finger on.

huh.

he had a dream about this, he's pretty sure. it was cold and someone was lost and it had been up to him to help but – how? ]

Hey.

[ he leans over the couch, one hand on the backrest, and gently shakes the other's shoulder, jostling both the boy and the blankets that cover him. whatever mat is wearing right now doesn't look like the sleep clothes he lent him last night. huh ]

[regalitie]

( mathias dreams, too — but his dreams involve crystals speeding across the fjord, expanding and spiderwebbing until the entire surface of the water turns solid in his wake, sturdy enough to carry him; he runs with desperation, adrenaline alone carrying him across the surface as he tries desperately to escape. he dreams of a woman's cries, anguished and afraid, the sound of magic crackling in the air, the winds picking up speed as they whirl around him, carry swirls of storm as though that may offer some form of a protective barrier. it's no use, though — there's a loud crack and a hole opens up before him, and he isn't fast enough to stop his feet from skidding over the edge, from plummeting deep into the frozen depths, from flailing his arms as he tries desperately to break the surface again —

and then there's hands. hands that grab hold of him, his shoulder, and could he be saved? no, he's being shaken, and that's enough to yank mat suddenly from his slumber with a jump and a gasp, heart racing in his ears and breathing rapid until he sees ... that teal hair, that shy kind of smile. milo — the boy who'd saved him.

mat is embarrassed over his own reaction, scooting back to sit up against the arm of the couch and fingers curling into his blankets and drawing them over him, tugging them up past his chin and covering his whole body (including the pajamas he wears that are decidedly not the comfortable sweatpants and old secondary school t-shirt he'd been generously given, a pair of deep, royal blue satin pajamas in their place, lined with white trim).

did the temperature suddenly drop in the living room? )

Good morning, Milo — I'm, mm. Sorry for reacting so strangely.

( he smiles sheepishly, even if he can't quite shake the prevalent feeling of loneliness that hangs heavy in his heart, like something, someone, is missing. )

[soothsayers]

[ he knows exactly what it looks like when you wake up from a dream that is more than just a dream, the stunned expression, the blown-wide pupils when someone or something pulls you out of your fitful slumber. looking down at him, he starts to piece together his own premonitions, the flash of silver hair, the feeling of loneliness ...

... oh, and the cold. that part is the hardest to forget.

milo doesn't bother hiding a shiver as he squats next to the couch where his pajamas no longer look like his pajamas. maybe he just isn't awake enough for this. his lips curl into a toothy grin; his mom always warned him about being too trusting and he really isn't, not when he hasn't been living by himself for very long, but there was something about this lost boy he had essentially run into ( nearly barrelled over honestly since he had been in a rush ) that he finds endearing and kind and strange. this city is full of odd ones but he's even odder than that.

folding his arms over the cushion edge, he tips his head to one side like a curious dog might, watching him for a beat or two. ] Bad dreams are best remedied with breakfast. You hungry?

before the nonsense –

[arendellian]

❄ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑴 𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝑲𝑬, the danger is real

[regalitie]

( mathias has never been so scared in his life — or has he? the feeling claws at him from the inside out, his heart still pounding, adrenaline racing through his veins. he's ran like that before, away from something, from someone, feet pounding against the ground as he carries himself quickly but perhaps not quickly enough. it's familiar, and that's terrifying —

though not as terrifying as mat finds himself in this moment, as his fingers curl in on themselves into fists, mercifully hidden beneath the longer sleeves of his jacket. what had he done?

those men were pursuing them without hesitation, with little regard for the remaining slush mucking up the sidewalks of the city, and had milo not grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the way — he would've been a goner. except that then, with their would-be attackers in hot pursuit, that meant that milo was in danger, too, and mat simply couldn't allow this kindhearted boy to suffer on his account, for something that neither of them could even begin to understand.

it's that thought that lead mat to whirl upon their pursuers, brow furrowed intently, as a swirl of glittering, frosty light burst from the centers of his palms, and struck the pair, and he watched in wonderment as ice crept up the boots of the men, up their legs, their torsos, their arms, crossed defensively, their faces full of fear like they knew what was coming. like they'd seen this happen before.

come on, milo whispered frantically as he yanked mat away, and the next thing he knew, he was running for dear life, afraid of what might happen if those men were to break free from that ice — that ice that he'd created. but what if the ice was a permanent punishment, unable to be reversed? what if mathias — could he have ... ?

these are the thoughts that wrack mat's mind as he all-but paces milo's living room, arms hugging tightly around himself as he stares determinedly down at the floor. the temperature inside feels about the same as outside, but mat pays no mind to it, even if it drops further and further the more his mind races, considering all of the grim possibilities. he can't seem to catch his breath, panting softly, quickly, wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself and isolate before he hurts anyone else. before he hurts milo.

milo. he's safe, at least for now, within the four walls of his apartment — at least if mat has anything to say about it. )

Milo — thank you for — ( everything? rescuing him yet again? giving him a place to sleep? mat finally tries to articulate what he doesn't know how to articulate, but it doesn't quite come out the right way considering the tightness in his throat as he lifts his head and looks at the boy with the bright hair, heart racing, overwhelmed in every way the moment he meets his gaze.

he wants to feel confident. he doesn't want to be so scared. he wants to unlock the part of himself that's been here the whole time, hidden away in plain sight. )

[soothsayers]

[ people have been talking a lot about global warming these days. san francisco isn't the warmest californian city, not when it's on the waterfront and summers still often require a sweater on hand ( lots of tourists make that rookie mistake ). with the polar vortext on the east coast, it wasn't that unusual the first time, but without the cold settling entirely over the entire country, the follow-up freak snow storms require some additional explanation. meteorologists have been scratching their heads.

there is a lot to still uncover, but he doesn't think that's from mat, even though he could sense something unusual about him from the moment they first met.

at least they had been somewhat prepared. that's what milo tells himself as they tear through the busy, crooked streets of this city with mathias finally unlocking those powers milo had only dreamt about. milo's sleepy eyes had widened in wonder as he watched that burst of light from his hands, the way the frost quickly crept up their legs. that had to have been more than enough to stop them but not enough to stop milo from grabbing his hand and pulling him away to safety. it's a shock to the system and he at least has some survival skills hidden deep down. besides, someone has to keep their head while the other is discovering powers.

they can't talk about it now. they have to get to where it's safe which is why he leaves work in the middle of the day and runs up the stairs to his apartment where they both are now comfortable. he slams the door shut behind him, leaning against it with his round cheeks puffed as he tries to catch his breath. it's silent. they both need a moment, mathias more than he. ]

Don't.

[ he exhales, lifting his head up with a half-grin as he pushes himself up off the door to stand on shaky legs. ] You've thanked me enough. [ crossing the room, he lays a hand on the other boy's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. ]

You're something else.

[regalitie]

( milo steps towards mat across the threshold, and just about every part of him yells at him to back away, put as much space between the two of them as he possibly can. he should leave this apartment and never return, remove himself in order to remove the seemingly guaranteed danger from milo's sphere, no matter how little he knows about this apparent threat.

those icy blasts only sprang from his palms in a moment of pure terror, and right now, mathias find himself still as afraid as ever — of himself, more than anything. he doesn't know what he's capable of, this newfound power within him. one wrong move and he could freeze milo, too, reduce him to nothing but a well-sculpted ice statue. how can he control something he doesn't understand?

before he can even think to act on those intrusive thoughts, milo's voice stops him in his tracks. don't. so he doesn't. it does little to soothe the immediate instinct to recoil when that hand grips his shoulder; mat flinches, folded arms tightening in on themselves. the earnest half-grin that spreads across the other boy's cheeks hits him hard, even as his brows knit together with seemingly perpetual worry, even as his whole body seems to shake with the harsh waves of adrenaline that rocket insistently through his veins. )

Milo ...

( he doesn't even know what he wants to say; does he push him away like his mind says he should, or does he pull him in closer like his heart wants? mathias can be rational — he can think clearly, make the right choice, or so he thinks. )

You shouldn't — you shouldn't be so close to me, Milo, what if I — ?

[melodiam]

q: what's the best remedy for feeling lonely?

[regalitie]

spending time with friends and loved ones, no?

[melodiam]

bingo!

so we should totally hang later.

[soothsayers]

mat, have you ever been on a date before?

[regalitie]

( .... ! )

oh, well.

not in the traditional sense, i suppose.

( or in any sense, really. he has recollections of mingling within large groups of people, but never fully connecting with any particular person. mat isn't sure why, because he certainly thinks of himself as an affable person. it's strange. )

[soothsayers]

[ !!!! ]

we kinda did this thing backwards if you wanna be traditional about it, but
would you go on a date with me?

[ !!!!!!! ]

[soothsayers]

are you awake now, mat?

[regalitie]

milo!
yes, i am.
i was thinking about going out to get an iced coffee because it's far too hot.

[soothsayers]

i already miss you in the office with me! but i also like seeing you sleep so peacefully...
you could always ice my coffee 😆☕🥤

holiday stuff ok ok

[soothsayers]

mat!
meet me after work. i need to make some food for my work holiday party.

[regalitie]

i would love to!

what are you planning on making, milo? i figure i should know in advance since i plan on being your cooking assistant and date!

[soothsayers]

spiced chocolate chip cookies!
i also need you to taste test.
😌😌

[soothsayers]

[ it's not unusual for milo to have piercing headaches after having visions. it's just the way the powers work, the brain overworking itself after seeing into the future. there's a lot of good that he has done with it and he accepts the physical sacrifices.

when it happens at work, he pops some painkillers and sits in the dark bathroom to calm his brain and protect his eyes before looking at a computer screen again. when he's at home, he tucks himself into bed and tries to assure a concerned mat that rest is all he needs to bounce back from this migraine.

he's currently in a burrito this morning, having had just enough energy to eat some cereal before getting back into bed, still in his old art school shirt and printed star pajama shorts, curly hair a mess. closing his eyes, he groans, burying his cheek against the pillows he's surrounded himself with. ]

The painkillers aren't working, [ he groans and hides under the comforter. at least it's the weekend and they have nowhere to go. and the bed is warm and he has his loving boyfriend at his side. ]

[regalitie]

( mat worries.

it's in his nature, he supposes, but it's exacerbated so much by his love for milo that he sometimes feels like he may burst. he may not know as much about this world that he lives in — even if he's grown in leaps and bounds over the past nearly-year since milo found him, took him in, and has loved him (even if he doesn't say it, which mat pays no mind to) — but he desperately wants to give milo the same level of care that he's been shown, especially when milo finds himself debilitated by headaches that plague him as a result of his extraordinary abilities.

today is one of those days, when mat's lip worries between his teeth as he fetches a bowl of cereal for milo once he's able to drag himself into the kitchen for some nourishment. he titters around the kitchen, provides painkillers and water that, even once they're back safely in bed, aren't doing their job.

mat frowns, sitting propped up against his pillows, peering down at his poor, suffering burrito and wishing he could trade his ice cream-making powers for healing powers instead, even if it meant taking milo's pain and bearing it himself. for now, he has to be content with the fact that when he shimmies beneath the blanket, too, long, silky, button-down pajama top riding up his hips, he can slide his elegant fingers against the back of milo's neck and concentrate icy, freezing temperatures to his fingertips, thumb brushing fondly through the hair at the nape of his neck. )

Is there anything else I can get for you, Milo? I feel so bad.

[soothsayers]

[ it's normal, milo thinks, to fear the end of any relationship, as good as the relationship is. it's easy to fall into that domestic routine where he goes to work, sometimes mat goes to work with him, and they make dinner and mat makes ice cream. some days they go to art galleries, the beach, long walks through the winding streets of san francisco. he doesn't think he's too irrational to worry about the day he wakes up and mat isn't there, or the night he has a dream that mat's time in this city is over.

but he isn't thinking about that now. he's comforted by his boyfriend's presence beneath the blanket alongside him. milo loops his arm around mat and tugs him closer, grateful for him and those cold fingertips on his neck. ]

Mm.

[ his face calms, no longer squeezing his eyes shut and he gently curls his little hand around mat's thin wrist, bringing his cold fingertips to his lips for a tiny kiss before he places that helpful hand against his temple. ]

This feels good. Nn, don't feel bad.