Winter
A Weiss Kreuz vignette
Sapphira Angel

I have seen rain and blossoms,
Now I go to view the last and loveliest; the snow,
A frozen dream, a heart undone,
Forever burning, under the winter sun…

“The remainder of the week we’ll be experiencing lows in the mid-thirties. This evening looks to be in the low-forties with a chance of freezing rain. Snow is expected this weekend but—” Static, click.

“Hey! Do you mind? I was watching that.”

The channels rolled by lazily with each click-click of the palm-sized remote. “I wasn’t aware that you were so interested in the weather.” The sarcastic drawl produced an aggravated frown from the other man.
B
All he got was a grunt and slight eye roll from the former goalie, clearly implying, ‘my heart bleeds buttermilk for your dilemma.’

The sudden drop in temperature that morning had worked some serious hell on everyone’s mood, hence Ken’s crankiness. There was something undeniably dampening about waking up stiff and chilled, walking across the ice-cold floor, and vying for the first shower before the hot water ran out. Omi had easily won that round with getting to school on time to justify his stake. Even so, he’d ended up throwing a jacket on while running out the door with a piece of toast in his mouth and only one shoe tied.

The cold didn’t improve the already-sluggish hours at the shop, which did little business in the winter. They’d still get the rush of schoolgirls in the afternoons, but they usually just window-shopped, and not for any flowers. It was Valentine’s Day that was their busiest – and most dreaded. One could likely load a truck with all the chocolates they received from hordes of adoring fans. The boys managed to avoid messy scenarios on the following White Day by simply giving out free flowers to whomever passed by.

“Come on, Ken. Change it back.”

For a while it looked like he would ignore the appeal until he sighed, tossed he remote into the air where it was snatched up by Yohji, and kicked his feet up on the table. “Nothing else on anyway. Man, what a slow day.”

A scoff came from Aya as he came from through the backdoor. “Just wait until the holidays, then you’ll wish things were slow.”

“Eh, no time like the present…Or something like that,” Ken mumbled as he pulled an open magazine over his face. The TV weather report was a droning hum in his ears until the clatter of a chair being pushed over the floor interrupted it.

“Damn.” Yohji made a lunge for the phone, punching in a number and waiting anxiously for someone to pick up. “Hello, Reiko? Yeah, it’s me. Listen, have you heard the weather forecast yet? This weekend…”

Bor-ing, Ken thought absently, his mind drifting idly. Perhaps he could catch a nap…The thick slam of a door was noted by his subconscious, and the thought came and went like smoke in a breeze. Wonder where Aya’s going.

***

“Achoo! …Geh. That didn’t sound good.” Omi hugged himself tighter against the chilling wind that had blasted him in the face the moment he stepped out of the building. I hope I don’t come down with something. I should have found a heavier coat but the morning was so hectic… No helping it, I guess. He rubbed his fingers over his nose, which was starting to feel numb. “Oh, man…” A car screeched to a stop scant inches in front of him. At first he backpedaled clumsily, heart hammering in his chest. When he recognized it though, a smile lit his face and he put aside the resentment of almost being hit. A welcome burst of warmth wrapped around him as he opened the door.

“Thanks. Though next time try not to run me over.”

“Hn.” Aya barely glanced his way, expression passive. “Didn’t anyone tell you to look before crossing a street?”

There was no holding back the giggle that came forth, helplessly giddy. He didn’t care – he was warm and happy and Aya had come to pick him up. The redhead surprised him with things like that sometimes, but they were good surprises. Omi had learned to watch closely, and was rewarded with the valuable information he’d gleaned. Everyone thought Aya was cold and callous – incapable of anything remotely like love. But that wasn’t the case at all. It took a long time for him to understand, but now Omi was able to put together some of the pieces of the puzzle. It wasn’t that Aya didn’t care; it was more like he cared too much.

Aya could love, deeply and truly, but then it hurt so much when those who received his affection were harmed. Those wounds ran directly to his heart, old and scarred and almost fragile. It was all he could do to not form such bonds to anyone ever again. But again, love betrayed him. Omi smiled, turning slightly in his seat to look at Aya. Sometimes he wondered if the man hated himself for letting it happen, he sure acted like it every once in a while. But Omi also knew how much Aya treasured those he loved, how pure and whole the ties were. He felt them himself.

He was pretty sure he was melting in his seat. The warmth flooding him was smooth and seeped through cloth and skin, thawing the ice that continued to drift outside. Come to think of it, it had been unusually cold on that day, too…
B ***

“Wait, Ken-kun!” His breath made little puffs in the crisp air as he jogged over to where Ken was about to make some deliveries on the shop’s bike. “Here’s one more. The address is…” Omi patted his pockets, coming up with a slip of paper. “Here it is!”

“Thanks, Omi.” Ken folded the address and it disappeared in his jacket pocket. “You and Aya will have to handle the afternoon rush without me or Yohji. Think you can manage?” There was laughter in his eyes as he started the bike.

“Not a problem!” He topped it off with a salute and got a wink from Ken.

“All right then. I’ll see you later.”

Omi waved, shouting after him, “don’t forget you take a right turn at—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know!” Ken returned over his shoulder before vanishing around a corner.

The little bell above the entrance ring-a-ling-ed cheerily as Omi entered and shut the door behind him quickly to keep the cold out. “I think this is the coldest it’s been this year,” he remarked, straightening his backwards cap.

Aya didn’t avert his gaze from his work arranging a rose bouquet but commented monotonously, “It’s going to be a harsh winter.”

Omi winced at that – he wasn’t overly fond of the cold. He loved being outdoors, but not when his limbs were being threatened with freezing and falling off. Glancing outside, he was glad Ken had offered to make the deliveries instead of him. “Well…” He raked his mind for a reply, hoping to avoid one of the awkward silences that seemed to stretch between the two so much lately. “You never seem bothered by the weather, Aya-kun.” That was nice and safe, neither seeming apathetic nor revealing just how much Omi had been observing his teammate those days. He leaned against the table, looking around belatedly for something to occupy himself with.

The older man simply gave a slight nod and Omi suppressed a sigh. Should he try to provoke more of a response or leave it alone for now?

“But…you don’t like it. The cold, I mean.” The halting comment came as a surprise and Omi straightened from his slouch, eyes widening a bit.

“I, uh… Yeah, that’s right.” He swiped at his bangs, ducked his head for a second and looked up with a smile. “Winter is a really pretty season and all, but I could do without the temperature.” Laughter came to his lips and he hoped it didn’t sound nervous. “I don’t know how you deal with it so well.”

Aya turned halfway, brow arched as he said dryly, “that might be because I don’t wear shorts all year round.” He gave the attire of mention a distasteful and incredulous look.

This time the laugh was genuine. “Yeah, well…” He was pretty sure he was blushing now, from embarrassment mostly. “I guess that would be a good thing to change. Ah…maybe…”

“What?”

“Er, no, never mind!” Omi clasped his hands behind him to keep from smacking himself for what he had been about to suggest. One just did not propose to go shopping for pants with Aya. Even if it didn’t sound ridiculous in itself, one did not shop with Aya for anything. “Need any help with that?” He bounded over to examine the redhead’s work, hoping the previous conversation would be dropped.

Aya didn’t give a direct answer. “I’m almost done.” Well, it wasn’t exactly a ‘go away, you’re annoying me,’ so Omi lingered. Aya commonly worked with roses as the man seemed to have a talent for avoiding the prick of their thorns. The others had no problem with letting him have that particular duty, nursing their puncture wounds. Watching him, Omi could see where his skill originated. Aya’s tapered fingers were nimble and more careful than anyone could have guessed. They managed to dance evasively around the thorns, misty-white against the spring green of the stem. Inching higher and it became white on crimson red. Not quite the red of blood, but deeper and sweeter, like wine. Blood could never posses the enchanting fragrance of a rose. Omi had been drawn into his thoughts and so captivated was he that it was too late when he realized Aya had stopped in his work, fingers resting on the tabletop as twin amethysts regarded him intensely, revealing nothing behind that crystal gaze. In a trapped fascination, Omi’s eyes fell away from the guarded stare and traversed over the ivory curves and planes of the other’s face. He started only a little when a hand touched the juncture of his shoulder and neck, tentative at first but coming to rest surely over the sensitive skin. He had doubts, oh yes. The uncertainties tumbled about in his mind and tangled with each other. ‘What if you’re wrong?’ was a dominant thought that screamed at him repeatedly. But there was also an underlying awe at this – the touch and the closeness it seemed to represent. The trust. And that was enough to validate his decision. The motion was a little too quick, a little too clumsy. But he held his breath as his mouth settled over Aya’s, eyes shut tight with a nearly comical concentration. The touch was there again, and it slid up along his neck. For a brief, fearful moment he was sure that the light caress would tighten and that he had made Aya entirely angry. But it remained just a touch, quiescent over his fluttering pulse. He wasn’t sure if Aya was kissing back or if he was doing everything wrong or if the redhead was shocked or what. But he was running out of breath.

Omi pulled away, embarrassed again, and yes that was a blush. He couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes until slender fingers lifted his chin.

Aya looked…almost puzzled. It was a gentle look, and he appeared more vulnerable than Omi had remembered seeing. His hand brushed back some of the boy’s hair, unspoken communication that Omi was just beginning to understand. Aya leaned forward, slow and considering. This time their lips met hesitantly, as if just saying hello. Each would start forward, then withdraw and be followed by the other. A breath passed between them, and with it some mutual agreement. The kiss became less of a greeting; sliding and meshing like a familiar lover.

When it ebbed away, both were flustered and amazed. Aya caught Omi’s eyes again and held. He seemed to ask, ‘is this wrong?’ Omi shook his head. It was definitely, definitely right.

***

Rain pattered down on glass, trickling in rivulets down the windows. Omi pressed a hand to the chilled glass and it came away damp with condensation. He glanced at Aya out of the corner of his eye, smiling a little at the typical frown marking his beautiful features. Since that first time, he’d grown to know the man better than he had dreamed. All the small quirks, all the hidden meanings behind such curt, simple words. And he was still finding more.

The cold, he’d learned, wasn’t really that prominent. He associated Aya more with warmth. A frozen flame that was fire at its heart. Sometimes it was burning fiercely, but most of the time it was a steady glow. He was drawn to that warmth, and he suspected it had always been that way. The secret core of Aya’s being was as charismatic as it was an enigma. And Aya had let him in and shared the secret. At night, it was Aya who kept him warm even on the coldest of nights. Omi didn’t detest the winter so much anymore.

 

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