The weather was particularly frightful as Mizuki struggled his way homewards.

The harsh air was full of itty bitty icicles hitting him repeatedly in the face as he fought his way forward, his body bent over double to shield himself from the freezing winds and snow that came with it – whisking horizontally through the city. Still his entire front was coated in a layer of snow, and he was soaked before he was even halfway home.

Grumbling and with his hand glued to his hat so it wouldn’t get snatched up and blown away by one of the strong gusts, he crossed over towards the shopping center. Even the most hardcore salesmen were in the process of packing up, he noted. The ghastly weather obscured his vision, blurring out the already dark sky and rising moon in a screen of white.

Had Mizuki looked up and past the flurry of snow and ice, he would have noticed the strange glow of that moon; it’s cold, pale light was warmer than it should’ve been on such a vile December evening. It’s sheen a pleasant yellow behind the whiteout and the dark clouds.

But Mizuki didn’t notice. He was too preoccupied with getting home, hurrying down the road, through the snow and slush – in the distance he could see houses and hedges, already coated in rows and rows of colorful lights – the hazy blurs of yellows, reds and purples barely visible at all.

He used the specks of light as guiding stars through the storm, navigating his way to his own street, and making a dash towards his own building, and the dangerously icy path outside.

His hands were freezing, and the key appeared to burn his frayed skin as he inserted it into the lock. Whoever had told him these winters weren’t so bad, had clearly been lying.

“Mild weather and rain…” he scoffed, forcing open the door and stumbling inside.

Soaked to the bone, he groaned under his breath. Clearly it was time to invest in a better winter coat…

Wait a minute.

Mizuki froze on the spot – a puddle of muddy ice water, gravel and road salt beginning to form around his feet.

The lights were on.

Had he left them on before leaving? In that case he’d be in for a nasty surprise when the electricity bill arrived.

A frustrated sigh escaped his sore, cracked lips. He flung his coat onto the shoe shelf, not bothering hanging it up to dry, then pulled his equally wet sweater over his head as he made his way through the doorway into his room.

Emerging from within the shrouds of the sweater, he regained his vision and flinched, jumping several steps backwards.

Someone was in his room.

“What the he—“ he burst out, staring at the man sitting on his bed.

The naked man on his bed.