Fingers hooked each other, body heat kept frost at bay as they wandered the dark streets of Kagai.

"Your woman, did she break up with you?"

"It's not like that, I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you celibate?"

"Yes."

"Are you into guys?"

"I like girls, but I guess if he was cute enough I'd be fine."

Baolin entwined Tsukine's hand, his nails were petals of a fallen branch. "When it comes to angels, both are close enough."

"Is that so? I wouldn't know.” A small chuckle flaked him. He had guessed well on some rumors. “…But you are more delicate than most men I know. So am I, I am told."

"You look beautiful, not particularly delicate. But your demeanor, your whole being seems fragile. When you walk and dance I hear a lonely bell. What hurt you?"

"I'm not hurt," he snarled.

They squeezed into a narrow back alley, the timber on their sides heathered with crust. Above, thin windows reflected a faint glow; ice bristled branches cut the strip of dark sky with rows of teeth. Baolin nudged Tsukine against the wall.

"During the entire play, your eyes glistened like mother of pearl, yet it didn't tip over, you didn't cry. What is it you're trying to hide?" He curtailed his size, pitched his voice, pursed lips.

Tsukine made an effort to be still, yet Baolin loomed closer. His chestnut bangs itched Tsukine's skin. Parted lips sighed on his. Wet warmth condensed into glaze. His efforts vanished yet he could not break away. The air froze. A coy gaze waited for a reaction, a little move, but impatience turned the eyes towards his mouth, fingers traced maggots, and faces pressed against each other.

They were all the same. Branches seized naked legs and marked small bodies. 

Shrinked in the alley, it gnawed and crackled.

Tsukine swayed the bangs and pushed them away. He stroked his face, engulfed his ear, kissed him back.

Oh, he disliked that. He clenched his other hand into a fist, warding the chill and the trembling. Cold slugs crept in his ears. His eyes flickered. Hands groped his shoulder blades and clammed onto his robes. Their mass shifted, chests weighted against each other, and clothes scrunched. Irregular heartbeats.

A playful huff forced his eyes shut. Hair strands separated their foreheads when bumped together. It tickled. The frozen air stirred.

"You're so very cute. Should we get a room?" Kisses stamped his cheek and nose, softening pecks.

Tsukine pulled from the lure, patted Baolin’s profile. "You're just trying to use me. Seduction won't work. You're so desperate." He chuckled.

"Don't talk business. Can't we comfort each other? Let me warm your lonely heart."

His eye twitched. "I don't need comfort."

Baolin rested on Tsukine's shoulder. Featherweight, it crinkled. "What do you long for then?" His voice was a kochi that fissured ice with a tender, popping crackle.

"I told you. You forget?" Tsukine blew on his head. Flyaways swirled.

"I mean tangible things." Baolin nestled against him.

By a nail, fingertips, Tsukine traced ice splinters on his neck, grabbing his nape and hair. He lifted the head and caught it by the lips. He bit and dug into him, little moans escaped.

"I hold a grudge against one of yours," he whispered against flustered pants. "She worked in foreign relations at your customs."

"What do you hold her to?"

Tsukine recoiled, then slowly fell on Baolin's chest. "I don't know…"

Baolin caressed his head and kissed it.

Tsukine sunk nails into satin pleats. "I want her to burn, I want her skinned, I want her quartered and mauled by dogs."

There was a distance which stirred, even if both were in each other's arms. Muscles worked, and braced themselves. The cold was one push away.

That was how snow blanketed. He closed his eyes which helplessly fluttered.

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