Snowball Fight
It had snowed all night, and as Evan stepped outside, the white duvet crunched under his boots. Despite it being December, the sun shone brightly, making Evan squint against the light reflecting off the snow.
A beautiful view – blinding, yet at times deadly. Already, Evan’s fingertips were beginning to protest against the cold, and he regretted not buying a pair of new gloves when he and Pandora had gone gift shopping last week.
As he stood there, surrounded by endless whiteness and lost in thoughts, there was no warning, really. One moment, he was admiring the glittering snow; the next, something ice cold struck his neck, slipping between his scarf and jacket to find bare skin.
Evan gasped, arching his back in a futile attempt to stop the melting snow from trickling down his spine. Distantly, Evan registered the sound of laughter coming from somewhere behind him.
Bending forward, Evan shook off most of the excess snow, pressing his jacket to his back to dry away the worst of it. If he wasn't cold before, he certainly was now.
“Bad reflexes, Rosier?”
Evan straightened his back, and turned around, his expression a mix of playful irritation and mock bitterness.
Barty was going to regret ever being born.
“There’s nothing wrong with my reflexes, Crouch. However, there’s definitely something wrong with your morals.” Drawing out the last word, Evan lobbed a snowball at Barty. It didn’t even come close to hitting him, but that wasn’t the point. Evan was just warming up. “Sneaking up on people and ambushing them like that? That’s cruel. You're cruel.” He said it with a grin, baring his teeth at Barty, who only grinned back.
“Oh, am I?” he mocked, a feigned apology shining in his green eyes.
Leisurely, Evan bent down to scoop up another handful of snow, his gaze never leaving Barty’s figure. Meanwhile, Barty remained rooted to his spot next to the giant oak tree. His gray beanie barley contained his dark brown and green hair, small locks poking out in a way that shouldn’t be flattering – but somehow was. Evan felt a bubbly warmth rise within him, completely at odds with the icy air.
He wasn’t sure how Barty managed it, but in his company, Evan always felt like a little boy again. It was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, and if you knew Evan, you’d know there was nothing he’d trade that thrill for – or almost nothing.
Barty licked his bottom lip, his mouth curling into a mischievous smirk that had Evan wanting to shove a snowball so far down his shirt, he’d never get it out.
“Are you going to throw that after me?” Barty asked, feigning innocence.
Evan shrugged, though he absolutely was going to throw it, and Barty absolutely already knew. A knowing look spread across Barty’s face, and for a moment, he struggled to keep a straight expression.
Evan gave his snowball one last squeeze, waiting for Barty to meet his gaze again. Slowly, he raised his hand, giving barty plenty of time to move. Still, Barty stayed motionless, his expectant grin daring Evan to follow through.
Go on, throw, it taunted.
Before he could second-guess himself, Evan did just that. He threw the snowball.
It flew in a graceful, arched bow, glinting whenever the sun struck it just right. It seemed, however, that Evan had aimed too high. Barty must have noticed too, because even though it was heading in his direction, he still refused to move.
Slowly, a smile spread across Evan’s face, because of course, it would be foolish to think he could actually hit Barty cleanly. The other would simply dodge at the last second and then reward Evan with yet another of his insufferable, fake-apology smirks.
So of course, Evan wasn’t aiming for Barty. Not directly, at least. And of course, Barty didn’t realise it until it was far too late.
The snowball struck the snow-laden branches of the giant oak tree with just enough force to send a cloud of white cascading down. Barty’s eyes widened with dawning realisation as snowflakes suddenly engulfed him in a swirling fog of frost.
Evan seized the moment of confusion, laughter bursting from his lips as he dashed forward. By the time Barty emerged from the snowy haze, Evan had already armed himself with another snowball.
What followed, felt effortless. Evan hurled the snowball, Barty retaliated in kind, and the air was filled with the sound of their laughter and muffled impacts of snow. Evan teased Barty’s now thoroughly snow-covered beanie and Barty flipped him off in return. Easy step after easy step, sun and snow melded into one, impossible to distinguish, just like the two boys tumbling and rolling through the winter landscape.
Evan shoved a handful of snow into Barty’s face. His own face was already numb with the cold, his nose red and dripping, but by some miracle he didn’t pay it any mind. Barty shrieked, flailing his arms and coughing while helplessly attempting to spit out snow and breathe at the same time. Perhaps Evan should’ve felt guilty for nearly choking his best friend, but he didn’t. He knew, without a doubt, that if their roles were reversed, Barty would’ve shown him no mercy.
As if reading Evan’s thoughts, Barty hooked a leg around him, locking him in place while his frostbitten fingers clung to Evan’s jacket. Despite Evan’s attempts to wriggle free, Barty held fast, and without a warning he flipped them over, using his weight to pin Evan down.
Evan, accepting defeat almost immediately, lay still, his breath coming in short, uneven outbursts. For a moment, he simply stared at the oak tree above them. From this angle it looked like a snow-covered cavern, its branches forming a delicate spider web of brown on a white background.
However his view was suddenly blocked.
Barty’s face appeared above him, cheeks flushed red, snow clinging everywhere - his hair, his scarf, his lashes. Perhaps some of the snow had even made it inside his nose, though the flakes there had likely melted already. His beanie had somehow vanished, and his hair - now free and wild - formed a dark halo, framing his face.
And that smirk. That insufferable, far-too-arrogant smirk.
Oh, how Evan hated it. How utterly mesmerising it was.
Without warning, Barty shoved a handful of snow into Evan’s face, and momentarily, all Evan could hear was Barty’s roaring laughter as he flailed to free himself, shaking the snow from his hair and jacket. He supposed he looked like Barty now, with snow clinging to every inch of his face - including the inside of his nose.
Blinking the snow from his lashes, Evan turned his head to look at Barty again.
His smile was no longer hidden behind a mask and the pure joy, radiating off his face - so incredibly rare to experience - felt like a stab to the heart, turning off all the voices in his head.
It didn’t matter that Evan was cold and that his limbs were going numb. Evan felt warm.
So incredibly warm.