He's beautiful. A cultural salad bowl. As he saunters the halls lined with the eyes of public youth, he finds himself directly in front of another boy.
A boy with the skin of snow, tinted with a pink blush. Rugged, broken, a boy who has seen the world falter in front of him. The boy of snow glares at the boy of culture. He strikes him down, lacking hesitation. A mysterious rage possessed the boy of snow...why was he so angry?
The boy of culture gazed up at the boy of snow, aware of his own strength and weapons, yet he took the choice to not entertain him. He got up, and walked away, one piercing gaze, and vanished within the crowd of youth.
The boy of snow, caught by the glare of the boy of culture. A piercing stop in time...exhilarating. Why did he let him go? He didn't seem afraid at all, if anything, he wanted him to follow.