stay a while.

The snow was relentless on his umbrella as was the wind. The two were being carried by the wind, dragged down the streets of London against frozen slate.

However much they fought against the wind, the more the wind fought back. Angel's hair was braided by the wind until she bunched the curls together in her fist.

They stopped outside of an apartment block, Angel rushing up to the keypad whilst the man struggled against his umbrella.

Angel held the open door with her foot with an amused smile, watching the boy fight the umbrella closed.

He finally managed to close the umbrella with a huff, shaking the remaining snow off before stepping across the doormat and into her apartment block.

Once the door was closed, warmth started to be absorbed into their skin, turning white fingertips back to a reddish-white shade.

"I'm Angel by the way," she spoke over her shoulder, realising that they hadn't exchanged names yet, despite being in her apartment block.

He smiled in disbelief, following the blonde towards the flight of stairs, "Is that some flirty way to make me call you Angel?"

"No, that's my real name," he felt a tang of embarrassment at his mistake, though she seemed to smile at his assumption.

"It suits you," he spoke whilst dragging his curled hand along the banister as he ventured further up the staircase, "Is it short for something? Angelica?"

"Angeline,"

The way her own name rolled off her tongue was sweet, like caramel. One that sticks, impossible to rid of no matter how hard you try.

A residue of the sweet treat will always be stuck on your lips.

"Why did you shorten it?" the man questioned, he had read a dozen books with the names Angelica and Angeline, but he had never read nor met an Angel, "Angeline is pretty,"

She shrugged, not knowing the answer to his question either, "Angel has always been my nickname, it just stuck I guess,"

He thought Angel recapitulated her perfectly.

"George," he smiled, thinking that his name wasn't as unique as hers, that it didn't suit him like Angel suited her.

Though Angel still managed to make him feel unique.

"Like the king?" she stopped abruptly outside of one of a dozen black doors, rummaging through her bag to pull out a ring of keys with a small charm of a cat attached.

Door 404, on the 5th floor.

"Yes, like the king," George smiled, his eyes catching on the decorated forrest green garlands hung over empty surfaces, "You have decorations up already?"

A string of lights was wrapped around each of the garlands, ribbons, baubles and cardboard decorations were all hung randomly from selective branches.

Her home felt like home to him, despite his families lack of decorations in the holidays. Here, in Angel's apartment, felt like a place he wanted to be.

"Yeah? It's the 4th of December, George!" Angel glanced back at him with a confused glint to her eyes, "Do you not have your decorations up?"

It was tradition in Angel's family to all put up the decorations on December 1st, December was Christmas month to the Beckett's.

"I usually put them up a week before Christmas,"

George bend down to stroke the purring cat at his feet before rising back up to his normal height.

"A week?" she let her jaw fall ajar slightly, "Do you hate Christmas?!"

He smiled at her reaction, rolling the handle of his umbrella underneath the pad of his thumb, "I don't, I just never have enough time, I guess. But, I'll get out of your hair now, I'll see you back at the library,"

His final sentence took Angel by surprise, she didn't want him to leave so soon. She looked at the stranger with hopeful eyes, "Please, just stay for a while,"

The snow had hugged the two so tightly that not a single aspect of them wasn't adorned in it.

"Why should I?" George questioned, pulling down the fur hood of his coat, knocking the snowflakes off the top outside of her door.

"Because it's snowing out there," she pulled her bag from her shoulder, dropping it on the table by the door.

"And who said I didn't like the snow?"

"I didn't say that," Angel gestured to the gentle shake of his hands and the goosebumps trailing up his arm, "But, you're still shivering. Let me make you a thank you drink or something,"

"A thank you drink?" he wanted to stay, shrugging his coat off of his shoulders and onto Angel's coat rack.

"Hot Cocoa made by me," Angel lead the brunette boy into her kitchen, letting him perch on her metal stools, "The best cocoa in the world,"

She slid two empty mugs towards George, alongside two packets of cocoa powder.

"I'll hold you to that," he gingerly took the packet into his hand, tearing the top of the purple packet with his teeth, "I happen to make the best cocoa too,"

The umber powder poured into the mug quickly, puffing a weak cloud of chocolate which disappeared just as fast as it appeared.

Angel glided on the kitchen tiles to her fridge, pulling out a half-empty carton of milk.

George watched her pour some of the milk into a pan with a disgusted look, "Milk?"

"What?" she spun around at his voice, placing down the carton, "What do you use in hot chocolate then?"

He was hesitant with his answer, "Water?"

"George!" Angel exclaimed, almost knocking over the pan of boiling milk with her surprise, "First you don't put up decorations early, and now you use water in hot chocolate?!"

"It tastes good!" George defended, his eyes following the warm milk that Angel poured into the mug nearest her.

The powder was engulfed with dairy, swirling together naturally before Angel spun her metal spoon around the mixture, "Have you ever tried it with milk?"

"No,"

Angel nodded, turning back around to search her cupboards which were mounted above her marble countertops, she returned to the countertop with a fresh bag of marshmallows.

She sprinkles a handful atop the hot chocolate, the delicate sugary gelatine immediately starting to melt at the high temperature.

"Try," Angel slid the mug across to George, careful not to let it spill over the edges, "You'll never want to touch hot chocolate with water again,"

He gingerly wrapped his fingers around the handle, resting the pad of his index finger at the bottom of the mug for support, despite the burning sensation that stung.

George took a quick sip of the drink before returning it to the counter, only giving a slight hum of approval, leaving Angel wondering.

"How is it?"

His lips twitched as he bit back a smile of defeat, "It's good,"

Angel's eyes lit up, black liquorice searched George's face for the smile she craved, "See! Is it better than water?"

His smile was sucrose, a sweet addiction, "Maybe,"

Angel smiled in victory, cherry lips parting to reveal a sugar sweet smile, pouring milk into the second mug of powder followed by another handful of sugar cushions.

"I told you," she retorted, hiding her smile with the rim of her mug, letting warm chocolate spill down her throat.

George only clicked his tongue at Angel, shaking his head with a smile Angel managed to catch in the split-second he had removed his rose lips from the ceramic.

They continued to finish their mugs of liquid warmth, discarding the mugs amongst this morning's dishes.

Angel wanted the man to stay longer, though he had already started to slip his arms back into his coat.

George was covertly waiting for her to invite him to stay longer, though she made no move to stop him from putting on his coat.

Unspoken words lead to regret.

"I'll see you again soon, Angel,"

"I had fun, George. Thank you,"

trying out a newish style of writing ^__^