"Stillness… Cold… So serene…"
"His words have truly doused the flames within me."
"Zardon… Thank you…"
A hushed whisper escaped Zeice's lips as he watched his professor, Zardon, disappear into the distance, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Just hours ago, he had been drowning in despair, a man on the verge of surrender.
"My anger has waned… somewhat."
"My passion… where are you, my passion…?"
"Return to me… as you once were…"
Now, infused with the 'snow remedy' Zardon had unknowingly administered, Zeice rose from his seat and walked towards the counter, intending to settle the bill for the two cups of 'soul's solace' that had warmed his chest.
"Two cups," he said simply, gesturing towards table number five, the very place where his weary heart had found respite.
"Already paid," the young woman behind the counter replied, her features soft yet striking.
Zeice hesitated, "Pardon?"
"The gentleman who sat with you, he has already paid," she clarified with a small smile.
A flicker of something unfamiliar, gratitude, perhaps, stirred within him. He nodded slowly before murmuring, "My professor… he is a good man."
The cashier studied him for a moment before offering a quiet confession.
"I overheard your conversation. Forgive me… for intruding upon your sorrow."
Zeice exhaled, his gaze momentarily distant, "It matters not. If anything, I should apologise, for allowing my burdens to spill so freely, for letting my grief seep into the air you breathe, as though pulling you unwillingly into the depths of my affliction," he said, his words rich with introspection.
The young woman nodded, understanding in her eyes.
"Literature students are different," she mused. "They weave words like poets, their sentences as deep and boundless as the ocean's abyss."
A faint smile ghosted Zeice's lips. He inclined his head, murmuring a soft farewell.
Yet just as he turned to leave, the cashier spoke once more.
"The fire within you, the fire of anguish, let it burn not with fury, but with purpose," she said before returning to her task.
Zeice paused, standing still in quiet contemplation.
Then, as though grasping onto something long thought lost, he nodded. This time with a newfound resolve.
With one final glance at the café, he stepped outside, the door closing gently behind him, sealing away the echoes of the man he had been mere moments ago.
*****
"So, you're here after all?" A woman's voice, soft yet certain, broke through the silence, as Fleurine materialised suddenly in front of Zeice.
"Fleu? You're here?" Zeice's lips curled into a smile, his tone touched with a hint of surprise.
"Professor Zardon," Fleurine replied, her words brief, yet laden with an unspoken weight.
Zeice gave a slight nod, his mind, sharp as always, recognising the layers beneath the words.
As a student of literature, he needed no further explanation.
A mere phrase or name was often enough to unravel both its surface and its deeper meaning.
"Your arm..." Fleurine spoke again, her voice soft but filled with an undeniable pride, her smile blooming like a flower in full spring.
Zeice returned her gaze, his lips pulling into a modest smile as he shook his head, the gesture a mixture of amusement and affection.
With a fluid motion, he extended his right arm, offering it to Fleurine, who responded by linking her left arm with his in a silent declaration of closeness, as if their hearts too were entwined in the same bond.
"Zeice, do you know?" Fleurine continued, her voice taking on a tender quality, as though confessing a secret to the universe. "There are so many symbols of love in my soul now."
A soft laugh escaped Zeice's lips, a brief but genuine sound, "So, are you planning to study literature, then?" he asked, his tone light but carrying the weight of something deeper.
Fleurine's eyes gleamed with a quiet certainty, "As long as the man I love still possesses his soul," she replied, her words both simple and profound.
Zeice reached out to stroke her hair gently, his fingers brushing through the strands as if trying to hold onto something precious.
"Then ensure that I never lose it," he murmured, his voice low and sincere.
Together, the two lovers began to walk, slowly, away from the sprawling grounds of Cardfore University, their arms still bound together.
The world around them seemed to fade away as they moved, a quiet poetry unfolding between their steps, and with each stride, they drifted further into a moment that only they could truly understand.
*****
"Zeice..." Fleurine's voice broke the soft silence, her eyes fixed on him as she continued walking by his side.
"Hm?" Zeice's voice was calm, yet his attention was drawn to the tone in her voice.
"Since when?" Fleurine's question was simple but laced with an unspoken weight.
"This feeling...?" Zeice answered, his voice a quiet echo, yet tinged with a sense of wonder.
A small nod from Fleurine followed, a motion that seemed almost like one resigned to fate, awaiting a verdict she could not quite hear.
Her eyes, the colour of clear skies, sought reassurance, yearning for a certainty, one that would prove to her that Zeice, her love, was not merely playing games.
"A long time," Zeice replied, his voice steady.
"Since the first time I chose to write with my ink on that electronic paper," he continued, the words leaving his lips as if they had been waiting a long while to be said.
Fleurine blinked, a mix of surprise and confusion painting her features, "That's quite a long time, Zeice. Two years, in fact. Why didn't you speak of it sooner?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity, a trace of frustration simmering beneath.
"I don't know..." came Zeice's reply, his gaze growing distant.
"Sometimes, my tongue is slow to move. At other times, doubt... it consumes me, like a bath of cold water," he added, his words trailing off, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.
"And now...?" Fleurine pressed gently, her voice soft yet urging, her gaze never wavering from his face.
Zeice stopped walking, his pace faltering as if to let the weight of his thoughts catch up with his steps.
"And now... I have finished my bath," he said, his tone lightening as he pinched Fleurine's nose playfully before breaking into a run.
"Zeice... Hey, Zeice... You..." Fleurine called after him, her voice tinged with exasperation, though a smile tugged at her lips as she chased him.
As the day faded, the sun sinking into the horizon, its golden glow retreating behind the heavy curtain of night, allowing the moon to rise in its place, its silver light spreading like a veil across the sky.
"What does your stomach desire tonight?" Zeice asked, his words warm, as he slowed his pace after his playful escape.
"Something warm... something with broth," Fleurine replied, her voice holding a note of longing.
"I know just the place, the finest among many," Zeice declared with confidence, a glint of excitement in his eyes.
Fleurine's smile deepened, her expression sweet and inviting, "Take me there, then!" she commanded, a playful spark dancing in her voice.
"Let the wind carry our feet, while our hearts lead the way," Zeice responded with a grin, wrapping his arm around her waist, the two of them moving in perfect synchrony as their feet seemed to glide over the earth.
Fleurine laughed softly, "How long will this last?" she teased, her voice light, though her eyes held a curiosity that spoke of deeper questions.
"Until you understand every letter, until they form words, and then, until those words become a sentence full of meaning," Zeice replied casually, as if it were the most natural thing to say.
"You and your literary jargon," Fleurine muttered, half in amusement, half in mock frustration.
"You capitalist students," Zeice replied with an easy smirk, a glint of humour in his voice.
"What on earth do you mean by that?" Fleurine asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone playful yet inquisitive.
"Well... capitalist students. To be precise, capitalist students who always use their own money to fight for what they believe in," Zeice said with a mischievous grin.
Fleurine raised her hands in mock surrender, "Hey, I haven't even started working yet," she retorted.
"Who told you not to? Haha..." Zeice teased, his laughter light and carefree.
"You are utterly vexing, Zeice..." Fleurine grumbled, but there was no real bite to her words.
Zeice's laughter filled the air, echoing like a melody, "Vexing...? And yet, why do you still love me?" he countered, his eyes sparkling with a playful challenge.
"Huh... Enough! Hurry up! My stomach is protesting!" Fleurine urged, nudging him forward.
"Greedy," Zeice murmured under his breath. "A woman with an appetite, but still... remains so slender," he added with a shake of his head, feigning disbelief.
"My ears are still working perfectly well," Fleurine shot back, her lips curling into a wry smile as she caught his muttered words.
The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its soft glow over the two of them as they continued their walk, the wind whispering gently, accompanying their footsteps.
Beneath the pale glow of the street lamps, Fleurine and Zeice moved together, their feet leaving light impressions on the ground, carried by the wind that seemed to guide them forward.
Tonight, they wove a story of their own, a tale written between their shared moments, in the quiet spaces that only they could inhabit.
Fleurine turned her gaze toward Zeice, her blue eyes reflecting the figure of the man she loved, her heart settling into the quiet certainty that his name had found its permanent place in her mind.
But within her heart, there lingered an uncertainty, a quiet fear she dared not voice.
"Zeice..." Fleurine's voice came softly, barely a whisper carried by the wind.
"Hm?" Zeice replied, his gaze unwavering from the road ahead, though his attention was fully on her.
"If time could be turned back, would you still choose to write this story?" Fleurine asked again, her voice barely above a murmur.
Zeice paused, his steps slowing, as though allowing his mind to catch up with the passage of time before he spoke.
"I wouldn't change a single letter," he said, his voice soft but resolute, like a vow made in the stillness of the night. "Doubt is the poison that slowly paralyses me, and I refuse to let it corrupt our fate."
Fleurine smiled faintly, though a soft tremor ran through her chest, as if her heart had briefly skipped a beat.
Zeice spread his arms wide, as if reaching for the stars above.
"Look," he said, his voice warm, "Tonight is clear, and the stars shine like the words I've written for you."
"Each star is a letter, and each constellation is a sentence I wish to convey to you, Fleurine."
Fleurine blinked, feeling her heart stir at his words, warmth spreading through her as if his sentiments had wrapped her in a soft embrace.
"And what if one day the sky is cloudy, with no stars to light our way?" Fleurine asked, her voice almost a whisper now, a trace of melancholy creeping into her tone.
Zeice turned to her, his smile unwavering as he took her hand gently in his, "Then I will be the sky itself, so that you will always have something to look up to, something to dream about."
For a moment, Fleurine was silent. In the stillness, as the wind whispered and the leaves danced in its rhythm, only their hearts spoke, beating in synchrony.
The world seemed small, just large enough to contain the quiet, intimate bond they shared, as their hands remained entwined, the night echoing with the unspoken words of their love.