White Christmas

He should have known better.

He should have realized that friendship was never meant for someone like him.

Even though they were all the same age, there was an invisible, insurmountable distance between him and the other children—a difference he couldn't quite grasp.

At school or at the park, no one wanted to play with someone as strange as him.

He didn't laugh at their jokes, didn't understand their games, and when he tried to join in, they just looked at him like he was from another world.

But that didn't matter.

At least, that's what he told himself.

It wasn't that it bothered him much that he had no friends to play with.

The only reason he even tried was so his mother wouldn't worry.

He didn't need anyone else. As long as she was there, that was enough.

His father had left them long before he could even learn to speak.

It was just the two of them—always had been.

But every night, he would hear his mother crying, whispering his father's name like a broken record, blaming herself over and over for not being good enough.

He didn't understand what she meant by that.

How could someone as kind and gentle as his mother not be good enough?

Perhaps because he was growing older, understanding more of the world, his curiosity grew too.

The questions that had been bubbling inside him finally spilled over one day.

"Mom... why does no one want to play with me?"

There was no sadness in his voice, no bitterness.

Just a simple, innocent curiosity.

He didn't expect much of an answer, maybe just a shrug or a soft laugh.

But instead, his mother's eyes filled with tears, and she pulled him into a tight embrace.

He froze, confused and unsure.

Did he say something wrong?

Did he hurt her without realizing it?

Why was she crying?

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Sol..." she whispered, her voice breaking as she repeated the words over and over again.

He didn't understand why she was apologizing.

He didn't even know what she was apologizing for.

But seeing her cry made his chest ache in a way he couldn't describe.

After a long moment, she seemed to calm down a little.

Still holding him close, she stroked his hair softly, the way she always did when she wanted to comfort him.

It felt good, making him feel warm and safe, even if he didn't understand why she was upset.

"Why did you ask that, Sol? Are you feeling lonely?"

Lonely?

He had never thought of it that way.

It wasn't loneliness that made him ask, just a simple curiosity.

It didn't really matter to him if the other kids ignored him. He was used to it by now.

"No," he shook his head.

"I just wanted to know why no one seems to like me."

His mother's grip on him tightened, and he felt her body shake slightly as she held him.

For a moment, he thought she might start crying again, but she didn't.

Instead, she just hugged him closer.

"Listen, Sol... if you want them to like you, you should try smiling. When you smile, people tend to look more favorably toward you. Even if you don't feel like it, just keep smiling. Whether you want to cry, scream, or laugh... just smile."

He looked up at her, confused.

"But... isn't that lying?"

She always told him not to lie, that honesty was important.

So why would she tell him to smile when he didn't feel like it?

Wasn't that the same as lying about being happy?

His mother shook her head, her eyes sad and tired.

"Sometimes, lying is the only way to get what you want... whether it's good or bad."

To get what he wants?

He didn't really understand what she meant.

But if his mother said so, it was only natural for him to listen.

She always knew what was best for him.

So if smiling would make things better, he would simply smile from now on.

"Sol... you don't need to ever feel lonely, okay? Mom won't ever leave you..."

As she buried his face in her chest, her words echoed in his mind.

They were meant to be comforting, to soothe him, to make him feel safe and loved.

But instead, they left a strange, hollow feeling inside him.

He realized something then.

Something he wished he hadn't.

His mother was lying.

*****

"You really are disgusting..."

Azriel didn't respond to the voice behind him as he gazed down from the balcony at the guests leaving the party below.

His mind was empty, his thoughts distant, as he stared at the sea of people beneath the moonlight.

"You could have had her right there, yet you decided to let her go, giving her the illusion of escaping you," the voice continued, closer now.

Leo appeared beside him, leaning against the balcony railing, mirroring Azriel's stance as they both watched the guests below.

Azriel chuckled softly, his thoughts drifting back to his last encounter with Celestina.

Her face had turned beet red before she ran off, flustered and confused.

'Who knew she could make such an adorable face...'

"Why did you let her go?"

Leo's voice broke through his reverie.

Azriel turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Leo's emerald eyes, burning with hatred.

The intensity in them made Azriel's smile widen, though it was laced with sadness.

"It's because I didn't lie to her." Azriel said quietly.

"I truly want to understand what it means to love before getting engaged."

Leo scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain. "How noble of you."

"Right?"

Azriel's smile grew, tinged with irony.

"Are we going to ignore how you played the headmistress for a fool as well?"

Leo's voice was sharper now, probing.

Azriel shook his head, his gaze returning to the guests below.

"I did what I had to do. Besides, after the void dungeon incident, she'll get what she's always wanted."

"And that is...?"

Leo's curiosity piqued, his tone softening.

A grin crept across Azriel's face.

"A true hero."

Leo chuckled darkly.

"A true hero, huh? Imagine her disappointment when she realizes it won't be you."

Azriel sighed, his breath misting in the cold night air.

"Hey."

Leo turned to face him fully, their eyes locking.

"What is it?"

"What are you, really?"

Azriel asked, his voice low and probing.

Leo's expression remained unreadable.

"What I am? Didn't I tell you already? I'm you."

Azriel shook his head slowly.

"You're not. If I were truly losing my mind, you wouldn't be the person I'd see. Especially not with those eyes..."

Leo didn't respond, his gaze steady and inscrutable.

'You can't really read my thoughts, can you? You're just predicting them,'

Azriel thought, studying Leo's face.

"Besides, if you were me, you wouldn't have any trouble knowing what this is..." Azriel suddenly pulled up his sleeve, revealing his left forearm.

Etched into his skin was a tattoo—its design haunting.

At its center was a skull with hollow, endless eyes, its surface cracked and weathered like ancient stone.

Behind the skull, great wings unfurled, their feathers shifting from soft plumes to jagged bones, caught in a transformation between life and death.

Beneath the skull hung an hourglass, its frame twisted with thorny vines that seemed to dig into Azriel's flesh, as if the tattoo itself was alive.

A scythe arched across the background, its blade gleaming with a ghostly sheen, the handle wrapped in ancient runes.

"You know, it's been difficult hiding this from my family for the past two months... especially today," 

Leo stared at the tattoo, seemingly mesmerized by the dark design, his gaze locked on it without blinking.

Azriel's smile turned mocking.

"You don't know, do you? That's why you're not me. If you were, you'd know exactly what this means. You'd know the runes. But you don't... because you're not allowed to."

Leo's eyes filled with even more hatred, but he remained silent, his gaze now piercing and cold.

'Only a few people in this world would know what this is, would understand the runes like I do,' 

The tattoo on his forearm wasn't just ink.

It was a mark, a symbol of who he truly was—something that wasn't written in just any normal book.

Azriel and Leo continued to stare at each other, their eyes locked—blood-red against emerald green—neither speaking, neither looking away.

Finally, Leo sighed, breaking the tension.

"Fine. You win this time. I thought I had you fooled perfectly."

He glanced again at Azriel's tattoo, shuddering.

"I don't know what that is or what it means, but it gives me chills... Hide that thing."

Azriel pulled his sleeve back down, covering the tattoo.

"Thanks..."

The hatred in Leo's eyes faded, replaced by an almost weary look as he gazed at Azriel.

"I'll take my leave for now."

Azriel raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to tell me who you really are?"

Leo shook his head.

"I will... but not today. Besides, you must already suspect what I am."

Before Azriel could respond, Leo disappeared, vanishing into thin air as if he'd never been there at all.

Azriel sighed, leaning back against the balcony railing, the cold metal pressing into his back.

"Seriously... what an eventful day it's been."

He was about to turn in for the night when something caught his eye—something drifting down from the sky.

"Hmm?"

Delicate white flakes tumbled through the air, drifting lazily from the darkness above.

"...Snow."

The snow fell quietly, almost gently, each flake twirling as if it had all the time in the world.

The guests below noticed it too, pausing in their conversations to look up at the sky.

Azriel smiled sadly, the snow reflecting in his eyes.

"A white Christmas, huh..."