That familiar and somehow cosy sound of snow crunching under our feet seems to almost echo in the quiet streets. Unblemished snow lies like a frozen blanket over the rooftops and the usual grey concrete of the roads and paths is replaced with blinding white. Above us, the dark sky is beginning to show the palest of greys as the winter sun struggles to make an appearance.

It’s so weird to be awake and out in the streets at this time - 6:30am, especially on a Saturday morning, and it’s still pitch black save for that sliver of the coming day streaking through in the far distance. As for how we ended up out this early, Ryan said a super early walk would do us some good and he wants to get some inspiration for a painting idea he has so I caved and set an alarm for 6am. He’s probably gonna spend the day at my place.

In the morning air, Ryan looks pure, fresh faced and bright eyed. All his little blemishes are present, if you can even call them that - the freckles dotted all over his tanned skin, the rose blush brought on by the crisp December air. I’m surprised he’s wearing so little - a baggy light grey jumper with a white cross on it coupled with tight jeans and army boots. He seems to be enjoying the cold though. As for me, it’s a black jumper, a black hoody, black jeans and my old faux fur trapper hat.

Down the path I’d taken him that fateful Halloween night, we walk side by side, Ryan with a slight skip in his step as he inhales deeply, enjoying the air. In the distance, some early morning dog walkers are already up and about - their dogs are off their leashes and playing with each other in the refreshing air.

I lead him to the same bench we usually drink at and we sit in quiet serenity enjoying each other’s company until I break the ice.

“You never talk about Josh,” the words fall out of my mouth before I even realise it. Instantly my body feels cold as a chill of panic tickles up my spine. Ryan looks up at me, blue eyes blazing under the pretty winter sun. He doesn’t seem surprised by my question. Those thick, dark lashes flicker to the gravel at our feet as he responds,

“Yeah, I know.” That’s it. No explanation or excuse. I watch his attention turn back to the dogs chasing each other down in the frosty grass, barking excitedly as they run circles around each other. Kinda feels like us - I’m trying to find out about their relationship and he runs circles around me, toying with me.

“How come?” I ask him, too curious to let it go. “You guys okay or…?”

“We’re fine I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yup.”

“Okay… I just thought I’d ask, see how you’re doing.”

I’m about to change the conversation topic when out of the azure blue:

“He knows my mind is always elsewhere so we’re probably gonna break up soon.”

What? The way he says it so calmly, as if it’s nothing important, catches me off guard.

“You just said you were fine?” I ask him, “but that doesn’t seem fine to me.”

He shrugs, “I’m fine with breaking up, yeah. He’s not right for me. Doesn’t inspire me.”

But I do, right?

I nod, turning my own gaze to the playful dogs.

“I haven’t seen you happy for a while,” I confess. “not the way you used to be, anyway.”

“Yeah, he noticed it too. It’s best for both of us if we go our separate ways.”

I nod once more.

“So…who do you wanna be with, if not him?” I don’t know where the question comes from but it escapes the darkness of my mind. Ryan stares straight ahead as he shrugs again.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” his voice falls quietly into the morning air, “all I want is for him to be happy.” The way he emphasises the “him” tells me he’s not talking about Josh.

“So the project is about vulnerability,” I tell him, changing the subject, “and I had a random idea but I need to get your permission obviously.”

His laughter blossoms into the quiet woodland. “I’m scared,” he jokes. “What exactly are you planning to do with me?”

“Nothing,” I assure him, “but…well, you’re an artist. I’ve heard you’re a great artist,” he absorbs the compliment with a smile, “but I haven’t seen your paintings. I’ve worked with you on other projects but I’ve never seen you paint.”

He nods, taking in my words.

“So you want to photograph me painting?”

“If you’re okay with that. I’ve heard it can be a very intimate process for artists.”

His tone changes suddenly. “I’m dark when I paint,” his words flutter into the dark morning like a flock of bats, “I’m intense and I’m brutal to myself. I don’t know if you wanna see that.”

“I want to see all of you,” I confess. “You’re my best friend.”

“Gavin…I…” he raises his arms to his knees and buries his head in his hands, “I throw myself at a painting completely. Blood, sweat and tears and I’m not saying that to be poetic. I’ve used my own blood in my paint before. My own tears. Anything to make the painting a part of me.”

“It’d be your most vulnerable,” I muse, “and I’d be honoured if you’d share it with me.”

“It’s the part of me you’ve never seen, Gav. I don’t know if you’ll want to see it.”

“I do.”

“Then you’ll be the only one to see me like that. I lock myself away when I paint.”

I feel myself beginning to turn red as I reach down into my bag, taking out our sandwiches. Tomato, lettuce and sweetcorn on dairy-free bread for him; egg salad on the same bread for me. I’ve never tried it before but I’m pleasantly surprised as I take a bite - it tastes pretty much the same as what I’m used to.

“I love winter,” Ryan tells me suddenly, changing the subject. “What’s your favourite season?”

“Autumn.”

“Any reason?”

“Halloween, the colours in the trees, scarfs and jumpers, pumpkin spice coffees and darker nights.”

“Mmm,” I reckon the noise is supposed to be agreement - his mouth is full of sandwich. As he swallows, he tells me “good reasons.”

“And your reasons for Winter?”

“Ice.” Weird answer. “Before Saffron had his band, he wanted to be a figure skater. I used to watch him practice and we both dreamed of getting to the Olympics and gliding to the top. Never happened though.”

“Because of his band?”

He nods. “Mom got pissed when Saffy gave it up because she was paying for the best coach in the state,” he laughs. “He used to practice on ice every single day, twice or three times whenever he had free time from school. He tried to get me skating but my balance was so bad so I used to watch him from the sidelines. I kinda miss it.”

“There’s an ice rink in town if guys ever wanna practice again.”

“I don’t know if Saffy would even consider going professional now - he’s been out of it for too many years but I’m sure he’d like to lose himself on the ice again. Winter, ice, snow, everything, all makes me feel so free because it reminds me of better times in our lives.” I stare at him, enjoying his smile as he reminisces. “Y’know, when I’m out here in the frost and the ice, it’s like my spirit is soaring through frostbitten clouds and I love it.” I’m too busy gazing at him in awe to even notice the snow he’s slyly gathering in his furthest hand. “You know what I love even more though?” That’s when it hits me - the snowball. The sudden freezing sends shivers down my spine as I blink at him in disbelief as he grins, “Snowball fights! Come on, nerd!” he yells playfully as he leaps to his feet and dashes over between the trees. I watch as he bends down, gathering more snow for ammunition. He launches another missile at me, narrowly missing me. Oh, it’s fucking on!

I take him on, launching snowball after snowball at each other like a pair of carefree kids, chasing each other around the hill for five minutes or so until I tackle him playfully.

Bad idea in the dim light.

We both slip in the snow and I knock him off his feet. In a second, we go from carrying on like idiots to tumbling down the side of the embankment, patches of green and white blurring together as we roll together. I panic that I’ve hurt him but as we land onto more soft snow, he bursts out laughing. I’m about to get up off of him but our eyes meet and the laughter fades.

Time stops.

No breath escapes my lips. No blood rushes through my veins. No heart beats in my chest. I’m frozen by this winter gaze, captured like a thrall by this prince of ice. No, Ryan isn’t a prince - he’s a king. Those blue gems are unblinking yet full of emotion as he gazes up at me, caramel skin framed by raven hair polarised by the ghostly snow.

I can see the stardust in his eyes like the twinkling lights of ships on a distant horizon, lost under the midnight skies yet trying so hard to remain visible, to near the shore. I can see it all: the broken dreams and regrets, the pain that hides behind a mask of carefree joy. I can see his true colours, his aura: indigo.

Who broke you, Ryan?

An anchor suddenly drops from my soul, unbearable chains thrusting me down to the depths of his ocean. He’s been hurt. He’s been hurt so fucking badly and he can’t hide it as well as he thinks he can. I need to help him but what the fuck can I do when I don’t even know what’s happened.

There’s two Ryan’s. One is sunlight: the happy-go-lucky kid I’ve grown fond of, and the other is moonlight: quiet, sad, emotions pouring from his brush strokes like snow falling from bleeding black skies. The young man I befriended and the young man lying underneath me now seem different but they’re one and the same. Two sides of the same coin. He…gives me hope.

What the fuck, Gavin. I shouldn’t be describing him like this. I’m confused yet so lost in this moment. I feel sick, anxiety bubbling up from the pit of my stomach like a frothy concoction of guilt and fear yet Ryan’s presence calms me. His smile is the most serene thing in the park right now. His eyes, so deep, like endless mandalas, hypnotising almost - shades of grey bleed into the warmest blues like azure oceans hidden away in the tropics. So handsome. I reach over to run a hand through that raven hair, to caress his icy cheeks, to lean down and -

Stop!

I snap back to reality as a voice in my head screams at me. What the absolute fuck am I doing?! Fucking idiot.

I’m about to sit up off of him when his arms snake around my shoulders. My heart goes into overdrive, pounding in my chest like someone jogging on gravel. Is he gonna be the one to…?

He reaches up and yanks my trapper hat off.

“This is mine now, okay?” he chuckles as he pulls the faux fur over his hair. “Mm, so cosy!” His hands pull at the fuzzy baubles as he grins at me, scrunching up his nose. He’s fucking oblivious to my scenario. He’s legitimately clueless that I almost made a move on him.

Thank fuck.

I let out a silent sigh as the snow begins to lightly fall on us. I can’t do this.

“Are you okay?” Ryan’s voice meets my ear as we head back to my flat. “You’ve been kinda quiet since I stole your hat. You want it back?” His tone is mocking, joking but there’s an edge of genuine concern blanketed in there somewhere. I play it off, giving him a toothy grin and explaining that I’m not really a morning person so it’s weird to be wandering around at 10am.

“Plus,” I admit, “I’m kinda worried about your clothes.” Rye tilts his head curiously towards me. “Dude, you’ll be fucking freezing after lying in that snow, haha.” It’s a fake laugh, so hollow and vapid. I can’t stop replaying that moment in the park in my head. I wonder what would have happened if I had lost my self-control, my self-awareness. What would be the repercussions? Not that I’m about to find out now - the moment came and went. It’s behind us now. Fucking hell, Gavin, stop worrying about it. Nothing happened.