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The world was cold.

The world was cold because she was cold.

And it was his fault.

It was him, him, the ice king who'd broken the sun.

He shuffled into the room, head bowed low among the mumbles of the crowd. She was uncharacteristically quiet, but she still made small talk with other people, letting out the feeblest of all glows. The sun was muted, and she wasn't blinding him, so he'd thought he would like it, but no. In fact, he found himself disliking the weak sun more as the seconds dragged on.

It was utterly weird, as she was acting like a completely different person. And it was him this time who had pushed her to her limits. He'd smashed her heart into smithereens.

A small voice liked to argue that he was right and she did do something wrong, but the majority part of him was consumed by guilt and regret. He shouldn't have gone off the edge like that.

He knew he should apologize.

She pretty damn well deserved an apology.

But every time he ever so little moved an inch towards her, she would shift away. Her friends would snarl protectively and he would shrink back into his tiny, hard shell, thinking of new ways he could advance, as if he was playing a dangerous game of chess.

(It was like their old situation, but reversed.)

He couldn't talk to her. Heck, he couldn't even look at her without piercing glares being shot at him from every direction.

The world was cold and quiet. Dead. Barren.

No longer did he hear her boisterous laughter or lame jokes or over-dramatic exclamations. No longer did she cheer excitedly or link her arms with her friends or dance wildly to the music.

And it was freezing him.

People talked about him, scornful whispers on how she should ignore him completely, hushed exchanges about what a terrible person he was. Wherever he went, the negativity followed. He knew it was what he should get for that one night of completely losing his temper.

It was creeping over him, the coldness, which seeped into his heart, and etched itself there like an unmovable boulder.

She no longer talked to him or tried to make him smile. She avoided him the way he used to avoid her. And if he was being honest, he was feeling sad about it.

The sun, who brought life and excitement, had vanished.

He'd always complained about her and how annoying she was, but he only knew how wrong he was when she was gone. How much he missed her, even if she was annoying.

And, as he was standing alone in the frosty darkness, he wished the sun, his sun, would rise again.

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