kaira astor
Thunder rumbles through the thick, grey clouds, and I hold my breath, pulling the blanket closer to my chest, waiting. The lightning cracks through the sky, a flash of light illuminating behind the swollen clouds, the light cast over the sky brisk. I peer at the trees outside my window, leaves and branches swaying as light rain starts to pour down. Through the mist the water creates, I squint my eyes, watching the green deepen. I suck in a breath, the color reminding me of his eyes, the dark abyss that sucks you whole.
That draws you into the storm that is him. On the outside, he's stone. Cold and calculated, stoic and calm. A personification of winter and the freezing cold. Whenever he's near, I'm submerged in the coolness he carries along his shoulders like a second skin.
