For those who love the ice...Some cold stuff to enjoy!

The train was gathering speed, breaking through a veil of mist and silence as its engines sprung to life. Somewhere in rhythm with the sound of its wheels, his pulse started to throb. His throat was stinging from calling out to her and she was still running after the train. His arm stretched painfully, in hopes of grasping the tips of her fingers; they were indeed inches from his; and then with a jerk he caught them. Pulling her towards him, against the speed of the metal beast that threatened to break them apart it was hard, forceful enough to take them both down in to the floor of the compartment.
Against his facial muscles that were tight with strain, he broke in to a faint smile and then it vanished. She was not smiling back at him, instead her face was pale, and her lips trembled as a thin dark streak of blood tickled down her nose.
No, no not again,' he muttered to himself as he looked down at her. His palms holding her were wet with her sticky blood, her clothes already blood soaked.
Kavi!' It was all he could manage to utter, before the nightmare had broken his sleep.
Sanskar woke up, breathing heavily and his sweaty palms pressed against his eyes. Under his breath he cursed his mind that conjured up a different scenario of him losing his love every time he closed his eyes. Inside his dreams they were so real that always he half hoped he could save her only to wake up to his harsh reality after losing her in another painful drama.
His penthouse had a glass wall, well curtained at the moment but staring at the city below watchfully. Absentmindedly he raised the curtain and the city below greeted him peacefully. He had just returned to his hometown after five years of absence. It was the city which gave him everything just so that they could be mirthlessly snatched back, the city where those people lived who he had once called family.
Sanskar placed a hand against the cold glass, still trying to control his breathing and stared at his own reflection in it. He looked a blurred image of his older self; the handsomeness and the youth were still there, but with a steel cold edge to it instead of the soft cheerful demeanor. As the details of his nightmare started to slip by he closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. He had just wanted a glance of himself, so that it could remind him what he was and what he had turned in to. Why it happened and who was responsible, only so that his resolve of revenge would be reawakened. If not for that purpose he did not enjoy observing the ruins of himself.
He turned away and picked up his laptop from the side table burying him in the sofa, getting ready for another long, sleepless night. Work was simply a drug to him, that dimmed his pain to a tolerable length and success was its side effect.
*
Although blinded by his nightmare Sanskar had not noticed that night was beautiful. It was warm and moonlit, filled with soft sweet dreams for an innocent soul. It was her first night in her hometown for Swara too. For some strange reason she could not sleep a wink either.
Her mother was still abroad, after promising to join her for her engagement with her Dida. Yes, her engagement. The word still sounded unrealistic to her as she could not picture Lakshya as anything but a friend. But with him came the family that loved and considered her one of their own. His father was almost the father she always wanted but never had and to him she was the daughter he always dreamed of. If accepting Lakshya meant spending the rest of her life under the shelter of that warm affection she was sure it was the right decision. After all, as her Maa had said, love will eventually engulf their relationship.
Taking a breath she looked around her room in Maheshwari mansion, she always had one since she was ten. Soon she'll have to empty that room and move in to Lakshya's. Up until eight years she had spent every summer vacation in this house and practically grown up with the Maheshwari boys. Memories of their elaborate childhood decorated the sunflower colored walls.
Her eyes travelled from one frame to another as she recalled the moments captured in them. Not many of them had Adarsh Bhaiya, after all he was not one of the three musketeers. It had always been she, Lakshya and Sanskar; the inseparable trio.
With the tips of her fingers she touched a very old photograph where three of them grinned at the camera; there was mud in all their faces, a football tucked under Sanskar's right arm as he put his left arm around her shoulders. Lakshya was hugging her from the other side, grinning like a maniac. He had never been her best friend up until recently, when Sanskar's absence had granted him a promotion. Sanskar had been her best friend, deepest confide and sometimes partner in crime. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as she remembered the numerous pranks the two of them had pulled on Lakshya; the ultimate crybaby.
She missed him dearly, but had enough sense not to question about him from anyone in the family. After all, they were as heartbroken as she was with his departure. She did not know what made him leave all of a sudden, vanish in to non-being and cut all his ties with his family. There was a tad of anger at him in her thoughts as well, after all she, the best friend he had, had a right to be informed was not she? Had she been here when all this drama was going on, she would have knocked some sense into his fish brain for sure.
She had to get some sleep, Swara thought finally as a faint wisp of wind blew through her window. It was Lakshya's birthday tomorrow and she had a lot of plans pending.
*
Sanskar switched off his laptop, sighing inwardly. Tomorrow was a big day, he had plans to execute, and rubbing his eyes he took a sip of water. His brain was tired enough to be granted some sleep, after all there was only two hours left till the time of his morning jog.
It was then his phone vibrated. Instantly he picked it up.
Is she back?' He asked shortly and listened for a moment. Very well'
It was all the appreciation his informer could get. After all everyone in his circles knew he hardly valued their efforts, Sanskar knew what they called him in his absence; the ice king; he had lived up to that reputation.
He stood up, stretching his legs and sat on his plush bed. Opening a drawer in his bedside cabinet he picked up an old photograph. It was the same Swara had in her room.
I'm sorry Shona,' he muttered to the frame. The grinning children reflected in his shell like eyes. But the musketeers will have to turn their swords on each other and you'll get hurt, but you're the only vein that touches both Durga Prasad and Lakshya, You'll have to bleed. There is no choice.
*
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Love,
Sakura