These shots don't ricochet

Iskra

BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING

His joy was a candle that burned bright and beautiful, it swayed with eagerness and warmth. Her rebuke was a harsh breath, it billowed through him and snuffed out the flame. Regret and shame marred him, a myriad of soot stains and messy wax drippings. With the glow of the fire gone, the ugliness of the candle was all too visible against the cold dark.

She was not pliant in his arms, and against the breeze of her words, he stiffened in turn. She was not so sweet as he recalled, and unknowingly he inhaled deeply, searching for the honeyed aroma of his memories.

He let her go, pulling away with a visible hurt. His features fell in turn, pulled in with misery so deep it felt like it summoned its own gravity. She wasn't happy to see him? What's more, she was upset - his absence had left a mark; he had caused her pain. The knowledge of that was there, in the spaces between her query, and it slammed against him until his heart splintered. He stilled, afraid to breathe and send the pieces of him scattering, exposing the cowardice he harbored within.

Iskra had played hide and seek a little too well. When the countdown stopped, he kept running. When they all called ollie ollie oxen free, he kept hiding.

Iskra slunk back to an unoccupied table against the wall they were near, needing the stability of a chair to face the disappointment he would lay before her. Quietly Goose crept towards him, offering the hand on his lap a soft lick of reassurance. The dog seemed to sense the tension and he remained out of the way after the outburst, and perhaps he'd been stunned for a moment, unaccustomed to seeing Iskra so free with anyone, however brief.

"I moved to Halo," Iskra finally gathered the courage to say, glancing at her sparingly, otherwise staring at the table as if the answers were written in its wood grain. "After..." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to tell her of the ways he carried his grief around like he was the only one who knew the weight of such a burden.

That's always been the problem with candles, they don't weather well.

I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS