Chapter Text
There's something about snow that makes Eric feel a little bit like a kid again.
It's been snowing off and on for almost a month, but it's not until the day before Thanksgiving that it really comes down. It's the good kind of snow, too, sticky and wet. Good for building, good for snowballs. Dylan and Eric already have plans for the day, but the snow puts a restless feeling just under the surface of Eric's skin. He gets the feeling that plotting NBK is gonna take the back burner for today.
He's proven right, of course, when he gets out of his car at Dylan's house and is immediately assaulted with a snowball to the back of the head.
"Motherfucker!" Eric curses, spinning to find Dylan. Dylan laughs as he ducks behind a tree for cover. Eric grabs a big handful of snow off the hood of Dylan's parked car and forms it into a ball, landing it against Dylan's shoulder before he can dodge out of the way. Eric cackles as Dylan curses at him; he crouches and scoops up more snow, forming a little stockpile of snowballs in the space between his car and Dylan's.
With everything they do taking such a serious undertone lately, it's incredibly cathartic to spend a few minutes just... Being teenage boys. Eric lets himself live in the moment for once, thinking of nothing but eviscerating Dylan with snowballs.
About ten minutes later finds both boys breathless with laughter, exertion, and cold. The snowball fight ends abruptly with Eric tackling Dylan back into a snowdrift and stuffing a handful of snow down the front of his T-shirt. Dylan yelps at the cold, catching him off guard when he throws him off and reverses their positions.
There's laughter and amusement sparkling in Dylan's eyes as he grins down at Eric, cheeks and nose ruddy. Eric wonders what Dylan sees in his own face. One of his hands comes up, probably to push Dylan off of him, but instead he grabs Dylan by the front of his jacket. The grin fades to something softer, maybe a little confused. Eric swallows, exhales; watches the swirl of his breath mingle with Dylan's.
Neither boy speaks. They linger in the snow entirely too close for several long seconds. A part of Eric that he refuses to acknowledge aches for something to be different. Another place, another time, another pair of boys that the two of them could be.
They're not those boys, though. They can't touch or kiss or forge any kind of bond between them other than brotherhood. They're Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, and in about five months, they're going to blow up their school.
(Why can't they be? that same traitorous part of Eric's mind wonders. Eric doesn't give himself time to consider the question. That'd be too dangerous when they're already this close.)
Dylan rolls off of Eric before he can push him away, and the moment shatters. He's also the first to get up, and he holds a gloved hand out to Eric once he's on his feet. "I think my mom is making cookies," he says. "She gets like that when it snows. Let's go see if they're done, I want hot chocolate."
Eric grabs the offered hand and lets Dylan use his strong grip to pull him upright.
By some unspoken agreement, neither boy brings up NBK for the rest of the day.