The One with the Bronze Eyes

Yong-Soo's eyes wandered about the scene around him slowly while he walked stiffly through Central Park; his hands shook through his mittens, which were tucked away safely in the pockets of his large and padded red coat, which was topped with a dark blue and black plaid scarf. It shielded his neck effectively from the forces of the New York wind, and thus his upper half was warm and cozy. Unluckily, he wore a pair of blue jeans and tennis shoes, which in no way protected him from any of the snow as he trucked through it with large steps.

He saw many things that caught the corner of his eye and lifted his intrigue, and then he'd see things that were just as equally dimming. A beautiful drift of white fluff which, with it's reflective covering of shimmering ice, would reflect all the other sparkles and lights of the city upon its surface. Then, off to the side, on a bench, would lie a homeless man with a blanket of the frigid substance covering his frail body. A park full of magnificence and wonders; a place full of the mistakes of man and its results.

This place was said to be one of the most beautiful places in the United States. Yet, In no way did it comfort him. All he could think of was the crisp air that tore away at the inside of his lungs and the pinpricks that covered every inch of his revealed skin. Only one other thing ran through his mind, "I want to go home."

Just an hour earlier, the latest World Council meeting had ended and the rest of the members had run off to enjoy the lights and sights of the United States' main attraction; they all had somewhere to sleep, while Korea had not been fortunate enough to find an open hotel in time. All he could do was wander the streets in search for anywhere to stay; anywhere warm to rest within the frozen wasteland known as New York City.

Distracted by the barren tree branches which hosted mounds of gathering snow and the sounds of the passing cars slushing rubber tires against dirty water, he took no notice to the harsh impact of his shin against a cement structure. It took moments of haulted movement for him to start to feel the creeping pain of the collision as it spread up and down his knee.

"O-Ouch!" he groaned, bringing his hands to his shin and rubbing up and down it frantically with his palms, attempting to warm it with his hands; hoping to get some kind of normal feeling back into his leg. Once he relieved himself of some of the pain, he stared down at what he'd run into.

He'd hit his shin into a cement bench, which, upon it, sat a bronze statue of a man who appeared to be of old American times. He held an open book that read unintelligible words, and he gazed over to the side, where there stood another bronze figure, a small duck (who was covered up to its neck in snow). The duck looked up at the man, mimicking a child who listens to his father's stories before bedtime. Just like a child who can fall asleep and forget all of the troubles of the upcoming day.

Atop the bench, beside the statuesque man of a story long forgotten, lie a plaque. Yong-Soo stumbled over to it through the hills of snow and wiped away the icy debris from its surface. He put his face up close, tensing his eyes to try and read it.

"It's worn a-away..." his breath fogged from his mouth, bounced off of the plaque, and returned to his face in a mist. Straightening his back, he glanced around him. "D-Doesn't look like anybody's h-here." He turned again and knelt down in front of the poor little creature who stared onwards with cute little brown eyes.

"Ori [duck]..." He ran his mittens along the neck of the duck and wiped away the mound of snow that covered it, revealing the rest of its body.

"H-Hey. Ya cold?"

Korea turned around quickly and fearfully at the sudden voice, standing.

"Ch-Chill. It's just m-me." America said, holding his hands up in a comforting gesture, his voice crackling and shaking from within the cold air.

"A-America." Korea stammered, taking a deep breath in and returning his quivering hands to his pockets. He released that thick breath shakily and kept his eyes down at the left over footsteps which he'd left in the ground; imprints of a path once taken, time taken and time frozen. "Y-Ye, I-I'm cold."

"Then why're you hanging out here in the m-middle of Central Park?" the American asked, his heated breath escaping his lungs and fogging his glasses. "You should be i-inside, or at least out enjoying your time here."

"I-I wasn't able to reserve a r-room and..." he paused for a reason that even he didn't know. Was he too nervous, too shy to speak to the man in front of him? Was the the bitter cold clasping its rough hand around him, restricting his ability to speak?

"Are you ok?" Alfred asked, taking a step towards him. "Korea?"

"I-I..." the smaller's teeth began to chatter, and he brought his arms to his body, crossing them and huddling within himself to trap as much of his fleeing heat as possible. "S-So c-cold."

"Here." America said, quickly hopping over the snowy synapse between them and wrapping an arm around the Korean's shoulders. He pulled him close, giving his heat away like a present wrapped in shiny paper. "H-Holy shit. You're colder than it is out here! Let's go, now."

Trembling in frequent bursts, Korea cuddled into the warmer of the two and followed him as they exited the dreary wasteland of ice and bronze men.

-----

From the point that we began our trek from the park, I don't remember much. The cruel effects of hypothermia stole almost all of my memories away, other than a few that I held close to me, repeating them over and over in my head as to never forget them; I never want to forget the pleasant touches of his hands over my shoulders and my face that attributed to the struggle to keep me warm.

I'll never forget the blurred visions of colored spot lights illuminating from within the bulky steel buildings. The dots of moving circles magnified through the teary covering of my eyes; like glass. My eyes looked like glass in their empty, black and glaciate appearance. My glare replicated that of the small duck who I'd saved back there in the death trap. Its stare that went on forever, but seemed ever so more friendly as I warmed it with my hands and comforted it with my caresses. I myself was a bronze ori; one who only wished to be found and released from my snowy prison.

I recall my heart pounding so hard as he broke my stare by grasping one of my rigid hands at the halfway point of our walk. That was one of the few times during that day that I truly felt conscious; a time where I felt more than just a human icicle. I swear that if it wasn't for my face already being bitten pink by the unforgiving wind, my blush would have been embarrassingly noticeable. That period soon ended, as I slipped back into my trance.

The next point where I was capable of understanding what was going on around me was back in the hotel, where our meeting had been held earlier. I awoke from a sleep (that I don't remember entering in the first place) to the sound of a couple others conversing with Alfred. I tuned into his voice and his only, blocking out all the others, excluding one bit that I couldn't ignore.

"America, how many times have I told you not to bring hobos in off the street?" I heard England's voice through the blanket that I held over myself and the roar of the rickety radiator that I found myself half-embracing.

"That's not a hobo, it's Korea, aru!" China's voice rung harshly in my ears and made my eye twitch slightly.

"A-America..." I mumbled subconsciously, my voice still shaking under the combination of my nerves and shivers. He turned his head to look at me and smiled.

"Hey, look who's awake." he strolled over to me and knelt down on one knee. He then leaned forward and hugged me tight. "...looks like you're getting your heat back."

He pulled away and I thought to myself, 'If he'd only wanted to check my temperature, wouldn't he have just touched my forehead or something?'

The thought of him hugging me just for the joy and pleasure of it all brought my face, which had regained it's regular color, into a blush that screamed with ardor.

"E-E-Eh!" I brought my hands and blanket over my face immediately after the thought, hiding myself and scooting even closer to the hissing radiator. Even though I could only see his shadow through the blue sheeting, I was sure that he'd sent me a concerned look, as he put his hand over my covered head and ruffled my hair through the fabric.

Right there, I wished to mumble those special words to him so badly, and not only because he had surely saved my life. I yearned to say "Saranghaeyo" so badly, because I purely wanted to.

Yet, under my shaking voice and the choking over my nerves, all I could maunder was, "Th-thank you so much, Alfred." I pulled the blanket down off of my face, and I smiled.