The Mech

It was terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. The mech's cockpit was a cold womb made of damp steel, cramping the pilot seat. The mechanical titan that once stood as justification for humanity's hubris now sat as evidence against it. Its right arm was gone. The gold paint had weathered away, revealing a rusted shell. Yet, as a protector, it had never lost its purpose. Deep inside the freezing shell, two young pilots lay close to each other without touching. The boy trembled, relying on the body heat of his companion to keep warm. He tried to stay still, but the cold was pushing him closer to her. She remained silent, breathing in his exhales from an inch away.

"I'm shaking," She whispered.

He hadn’t even realised she was cold until now.

“Me...me too.”

She stared at him. His heart was thumping, loud enough that she could hear it.

“You can come closer.”

“But, then we’d be kissing…”

She sighed.

“Do you really not get it?”

Those words were an echo of a complicated time, one of ice-covered lakes.

“You know, you'll never impress anyone by wearing t-shirts in the winter,” she said, cutting through the silence.

“Yeah, because wearing winter gear is gonna impress the scientists, and what are you doing here?”

“Don’t be a smartass, after the tantrum you threw, I came to check on you, figured you’d be in your depression spot.”

It'ss not a depression spot, it's beautiful,”

“Yeah…, selling that real well by sitting in a puddle, you know you’re a fucking idiot sometimes.

He looked at her with confusion.

“Why are you yelling at me? It’s not like I'm killing someone right now?”

“It’s like 20 degrees outside, you're gonna get yourself killed.”

He opened his mouth in protest, “If I had known you were gonna lecture me, I would have jumped in the lake as soon as you appeared.”

She squatted down next to him. “Alright, alright, just bring a sweater next time and stop being so melodramatic, I don’t want you to get hypothermia, that's all, here, take my scarf.”

“Why, because you looove me?” he teased.

He chuckled, then stopped when he realized she looked like she was about to kill him.

“No, because I don’t want to sub in stupid Topher; he’s more incompetent than you are, and I hate him.”

“Fair enough,” he said, letting her wrap the scarf around his neck.

She crouched in front of him, blocking his view of the lake. Shmaneuvered the red scarf around his neck. For a brief moment,t she wasn’t using her icy eyes to stare him down;n, she was using them to comfort him, like one does while wrapping a bandage around a wound. He felt warm, thinking about taking the scarf off so that she would have to put it on again. When she was finished, he just looked at her, his words fighting to leave his throat like crabs in a bucket. Her face got red, looking down.

“You're welcome, now you won't die…probably…Hey, why are you staring?” she asked.

“Oh…sorry, I zoned, zoned out.”

“Sure…” She was still close to him, inches away. A gust of wind blew through them.

“Why do you like it out here? It’s so c-cold.”

He remembered when it was spring, and they all went swimming; she had passed out on his lap from the heat. For a good minute, he just let her lie there, not thinking to call for help.

“I just like the view, I guess…”

She nodded. “I knew it’d be something lame like that. Ifyou insist on being a snowman, I guess I'll join you.”

She moved out of his way and sat down next to him. The lake was frozen and wide, kind of like a lake. Compared to her ego, the lake might have well been the size of the puddle his butt was in. She was huddled next to him, their arms touching. For a moment,t she watched him, sliding her hand over his, but that moment quickly passed when he just sat there. His body froze like a robot, only being reactivated when she let go and stood up.

“Do you really not get it?”

She walked off, opening her mouth only to scoff. That was three months ago. Now they had exchanged the open lake for a broken robot.

“You're so..uhhh!” she yelled. “Are you gonna make me do it, do I have to do it?!”

“Wha-what?”

She grabbed her sweaty hand and planted her lips on his. The cold presence still loomed over them, but they ignored it, closing their eyes and just relishing in the touch. When he caught his breath, they were holding each other, refusing to let go.

He thought for a long moment. The only sound was the rain pouring.

"Well? How was it?" she asked.

“You know that lake I always sat at?”

“Yeah…don’t compare the kiss to the lake. Don’t you dare.”

“I told you it was the view when you asked me why I liked sitting there, but that was a lie. I liked it because it reminded me of you.”

She scrunched her face.

“How? I barely went there.”

He remembered her in his arms.

“I dunno, it just does.”

“You're weird. I asked you how the kiss was.”

“Oh…yeah, I’ve never done that before.”

“That was your first kiss? That's crazy…it was mine too.”

“You don’t kiss like someone who’s never kissed somebody.”

Her face got red.

“Thank you, you kiss pretty good too, I guess…” she whispered.

They didn’t say another word, falling asleep next to each other.

The story ends here, but I need to hit 1000 words. Read some random prose-Fireworks bloomed, stealing the stars' light before dying out as imitations. The garden was lush with roses, a canvas for aged wines and white dresses. They wore wings and painted their bodies gold, so drunk on the idea of heaven that they missed the sheep with paws and fangs. A boy hid in the corner; they saw a prophet while he saw a heretic, and when the first body fell, they realized that they were still mortal under the gold—shiny rocks with gray inside waiting to be cracked open.