[ 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 β 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]
( mathias dreams, too β 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 β 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 β
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 β 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 β 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. )
[ 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?
( milo's broad, overbright smile directed precisely up and at mathias is enough to make his cheeks warm to the extent that he feels even more inclined to draw those blankets up over them, surely still shaken from his dream and not particularly ready to let a new friend, even one so kind and hospitable, see him quite so vulnerable. he isn't exactly sure what he feels the need to keep to himself β especially considering there are still so many things about himself that feel incomplete, like he's forgotten something important.
hm.
bright blue eyes immediately spot that shiver though milo doesn't act as though he's bothered, even though a cursory glance brings the goosebumps up his arms to mat's attention. he frowns briefly at that, still concealed, but his expression turns more than a little surprised at milo's suggestion. how had he known β ?
nevermind that. there are more important things at hand. )
Oh β breakfast sounds wonderful. ( mat's pulled down his makeshift shield at last, untucks his feet, and sweeps the two blankets, one thinner, the other thicker and fluffier, over milo's shoulders, insisting all the while: ) But first, here. Please take these.
[ he worries too much about everything and he tries not to, with his tendencies to tuck them away for later, grinning a gummy grin instead because his dad always told him that was the best way to help put yourself in a better mood. usually it works, at least for a moment or so. it's not advice he'd offer anyone else, not wanting to come across as flippant, but it's certainly helped him along the way.
mathias is a curiosity, so proper in his speech and mannerisms. he's caught off guard when the other places the blanket around his shoulders, but it doesn't feel right to protest the cute gesture. it's done so earnestly and his smile becomes a small, goofy thing instead. ]
I'll warm up soon. It's always cold when you get out from under the blankets first thing in the morning, [ milo assures him instead, though he makes sure to hug the blankets around his shoulders for a few beats for good measure. ]
( well, mat certainly looks pleased as punch as milo draws those blankets tightly around him, happy to have paid his host even some form of kindness, however small it may have been β despite the fact that they are milo's blankets to begin with. his smile stretches wide, teeth threatening to peek through, and β
oh, if the temperature in the room hasn't already settled into something almost pleasantly cool, less biting.
he finally scoots forward so his legs can swing over the edge of the couch, hands folding in his lap and toes curling into the soft carpeting on the floor. )
I feel favorably towards oatmeal β but only if you'll let me help.
( cooking doesn't really feel like something that he's particularly good at for whatever reason, but there are most definitely some ingredients that he's going to scour milo's pantry for regardless; he has a good feeling about them. )
[ he just about melts inside when he sees the corners of mat's mouth quirk upwards and they sit there across each other much longer than they should, especially given that he's asked a question that implies that he's just about to get up anyway. the blankets are no longer necessary at this point, but milo is perfectly cozy sitting beneath them, grip tightening around the thick material for a second before he pushes himself to his feet. ]
You, [ he says, turning in his blanket cape, ] can mix the Nutella into the oatmel when I'm done.
[ as majestic as he surely must look, it's sort of detrimental to standing over a stove and milo wouldn't trust himself to do any of that. stumbling back, he drapes the sheets over the back of his couch, flashing another crooked grin before heading right into the open kitchen area, preparing their simple but sweet breakfast. ]
Oh and βΒ you can prepare whatever drinks you want? [ he mentions over his shoulder. ]
i'm not sure. i'm still not really sure how i got here. but every time the temperature drops or the snow begins again i can't help but feel like it's my fault.
do you have a place to keep warm, seojin?
β π»π―π¬ πΊπ»πΆπΉπ΄ π°πΊ π¨πΎπ¨π²π¬, the danger is real
( mathias has never been so scared in his life β 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 β
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 β 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 β that ice that he'd created. but what if the ice was a permanent punishment, unable to be reversed? what if mathias β 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 β at least if mat has anything to say about it. )
Milo β thank you for β ( 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. )
[ 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. ]
( 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 β 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 β he can think clearly, make the right choice, or so he thinks. )
You shouldn't β you shouldn't be so close to me, Milo, what if I β ?
Hey, I know enough to know that you wouldn't hurt me.
[ flashes of kindness, tender moments, hints of feelings that have made him question where this partnership intends to go. milo has barely scratched the surface of it, too involved in this frosty mystery to direct much of his energies towards it. it hadn't taken him very long to care for the boy he so eagerly took in, despite said boy not knowing much about himself ( despite said boy barely knowing how to pick up a room without some nagging. )
he means it when he says he has never met anyone like him β someone who carries himself in a way that surely requires so much training, who speaks in such a way that reminds him of fairytales or classic novels meant for book reports. of course he wants to help him, even protect him in any way he can. they have already come this far in their search, in their time together. why should he take a step back now?
so he had missed the mark on the source of the snow, initially believing it to be a new player in this strange game, but in a way he is kind of relieved. it's another piece of this boy that they can add to the puzzle. but they're not going to worry about that now. what he's going to worry about it talking him down from this precipice before he turns this apartment into a frozen landscape. even with his hand on mat's shoulder, he can sense that thread of tension pulled so tightly it might snap and, without much of a thought, he does the first thing that pops into his brain, something he's seen and read about before that allegedly redirects worries.
he kisses him with one single step forward to close the space between their bodies, proof that he has no fear of him, wanting mathias to breathe again. it will be okay. ]
at least that's what it feels like for mathias the moment warm lips catch his own β and if the intention was to insist that he breathe, that's been turned entirely on its head. he thinks that his heart may have stopped, a thousand thoughts rushing into his mind all at once, some images flying by too quickly for him to even consider snatching and holding onto.
he has never been kissed before, that much he's able to tell right away from the unfamiliarity of it, the mere thrill of something new; the specifics are more than hazy but he's always known himself to be a dutiful person, prioritizing his studies, bettering himself if only to help in bettering the lives of people around him. romance has always seemed a little frivolous, maybe even selfish. but this ...? feels anything but, a selfless act of trust by this bright haired boy before him, the boy who he has grown indelibly fond of, for whom his loyalties seem to grow stronger by the day.
his lips practically tingle with the reminder of that kiss when they part, when mathias is forced to remember how to breathe again, a shuddering thing as his nose bumps against milo's, eyes still fluttered shut, arms slowly relaxing until they can drop to his sides, even if his fingertips dare to itch with a desire to touch him ... and he shouldn't, the logical part of him says, the part of mathias who knows the type of danger that the two of them are still in, the part that wants to solve the mystery of his own identity, the part that's very quickly realized the capabilities of these newly-revealed powers of his.
maybe it's the rest of his adrenaline that makes him do it, or just some deeply buried desire to do what he shouldn't just this once, though he hardly knows the reasons that he's so hard on himself, so rigid and strict and proper at all times. there's a small tip of his chin and mat catches milo's lips in another kiss, more exploratory than anything as fingers almost hesitantly reach to rest on milo's hips. this is terrifying in all of the very worst ways, the very best ways, something so new and so dangerous, and it's enough to bring forth a practical gust of swirling wind from seemingly nowhere, snowflakes dancing through the otherwise static air inside of this simple apartment, enough to ruffle through strands of hair, turquoise and silvery grey both. )
[ for a split second, he thinks he has severely overstepped his boundaries especially since mathias has been nothing but respectful. polite to a fault and stiff in so many regards. it's never been a negative thing in milo's eyes because he's really just been careful to respect whatever customs or habits the other has in order for him to be comfortable.
but then mathias does the last thing he expects ( though that doesn't say anything about what he had secretly hoped for ) and ventures for another kiss. and that's some kiss, the wind sweeping through this closed apartment, tugging at the ends of clothes and hair. the chill is harder to ignore this time around. he can't help that tiny grin on his lips when he returns it, hand turning over from his shoulder to gently curve around mat's jaw, emboldened by the weight of the other boy's hands on his hips.
this isn't as new to him, though it has been a while since he had been with anyone, and he wouldn't he able to tell that it's brand new to mathias either. but they are new and that makes it all the more exciting.
he wants to say something reassuring but milo has never been all that great with words, instead exhaling against his lips and keeping his eyes closed seconds after that second kiss. they open again, this time to look up at the snowflakes seemingly suspended in midair around them. it's a small thing but this apartmen has never looked nicer.
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