check that hair

before he came to college, nursey was a pretty big fan of summer. he likes the look - he’s all about jeans with fashionably split knees and those tanks with the obnoxiously large arm holes  - and he likes the heat, the way sweat sizzles across your skin. he’s spent the better part of his youth wasting the year away, waiting for the days when he could lounge in the backseat of his friend’s cars, cooling breeze blowing in as they drive out to who knows where, ready to waste days in the long sunshine. he found his happiness in careless hours baking in the heat. when it passes, it was back to counting the seasons until it came back. he always got sort of sad when the light started to leech from the sky earlier and earlier, and bright blues fade to darker hues.

but, god. at samwell, nursey falls in love with autumn.

there is red and orange and brown everywhere - the spectrum of sunset shades in the leaves of a new england fall, and in the tones of ginger-auburn hair. there are blots of brown too, in jackets and boots and freckles that lie against pale skin like the wait for the coming crisp frost. he feels the heat, still, but differently; in the nose-tickling curls of steam off a warm coffee, and it surely lies in the bright agitated blush that rises up following some well placed chirping. relaxation no longer comes with the hot, but with the cold, where he chases the warming cinnamon in a homemade apple pie as well as the brush of a hand on an arm, head, shoulder, wherever he can put it, wherever he can feel soft gentle body heat that hits him like a rush of red fire. he finds happiness now in barks of huffy laughter that come out in breaths warm against the cold air.

derek nurse falls out of love with summer, and into it with something else. 

sure - let’s say that it’s autumn.