The air around her was cold.
It reminded her of him, but of course, what else would it remind her of? Winter reminds her of the secrets he would whisper in her ear at night, his words soft against her skin as he held her close. Winter was a stream of dark colors with his name sprawled out in the snow, the wind burning her lungs as she breathes it in.
A simple name was what people though he was, but to her he was the world. His eyes were the oceans that she would swim in; his body was the land she lived on, and his voice was the birds chirping in the morning and the wind whistling through the sky. He was more than a body and a name, and to him she was the sun that kissed his skin.
“Do you believe in angels and demons?” She had asked him one day, expecting a silly answer that he will somehow make sound poetic. He never smiled, however, and his eyes were focused and serious.
“I believe in demons, but I don’t believe in what everyone else believes in. I don’t believe there is a heaven and a hell. I don’t believe that demons are creatures with black eyes and ugly skin. I believe that demons are beautiful, just like you would pick an angel. They trick you, pull you in until you’re hooked and trapped. Demons are often mistaken for angels, and they use that to their advantage.” He murmured, and she had decided that he was the demon that tempted her and trapped her.
“What about angels?” She questioned again, and he finally gave a gentle smile.
“I believe in angels, do you want to know why?” He cupped her cheeks with his calloused hands, rubbing their noses together when he leaned closer. She could only nod, the breath in her lungs screaming for release as she holds it in. “Because of you,” he started, the words pressed against her lips. “You bring the good to places that the word is rarely even muttered. You fight for the love of something forgotten, and you reach out to even the damnedest of them all. You serve to no limit, and your wings let you fly high, taking you all over. I believe in angles because I know they exist. I believe in angels because I fell in love with one.” He finished and the breath locked in her lungs was finally released as a sharp gasp, her fingers curling around his wrists.
“How do you know that I’m not a demon in disguise?” She had whispered back, and he shrugged. He didn’t deny it immediately, and he certainly didn’t tell her it was impossible, but what he did tell her was far more heartbreakingly beautiful than anything she’s ever heard.
“Then I guess I fell in love with a demon, but you know what? I don’t regret a single damn thing about it.”
Maybe they were both demons in disguise, trying and failing to trick each other into the obstacle course they call love. Maybe they were both leading each other to their dooms, pushing and shoving the other into holes and ditches while laughing at the irony of it all. Maybe they were already at the bottom of the pit, but somehow they didn’t care—only needing each other to live and breathe.
Or maybe she was the angel and he was the demon, their love story forbidden and frowned upon by the others. Maybe he was tempting her and maybe she was letting him. Maybe she let him dig his claws into her heart and take it from her, keeping it all to himself. Maybe she even gave him the key to her heart, letting him in like an old friend. She led herself to her own doom, she supposes. And maybe his name scribbled in the snow was the signature engraved on her heart, claiming her like an object.
Maybe she was already screwed over, but she didn’t really mind when he was the one holding her hand and guiding her. For once she wasn’t worrying about the end—for once she was calm and happy, her wings stretched wide in all its glory, not caring where they were taking.
As long as they took her to him, she didn’t care at all.