Suitors escape snowfall and heart ailments. Through touches the flesh thaws, steps follow procedure. Licks, bites, engulfment. Bodies melt and leave hollow shells.

"Baolin, I'm more drunk than I thought."

Pillow cuddles part and caresses let go of pale hair plumes. They lost eye contact.

"I feel hollow, I feel gross."

"I'll get you water, I'll let in fresh air."

As if in a body of water, senses float and lull Tsukine in discomfort. He laments, what went wrong? Scattered roses peek behind the sliding shoji, pile up like flakes, fold into paper dolls. They attempt to understand the play that unfolds. They tumble. They can't see well, it all blurs. 

"Sit up and drink." Baolin plumps back on the bed.

Tsukine shakes his head, it dishevels his hair. No air comes through the open paper wall. It's silent outside. Water insulates. He can't see past fallow branches, it all blurs. 

A tender hand wipes his cheeks, below his eyes.

Mikiko?

It is all his fault.

"Do you want to shower? Throwing up might make you feel better, I can help with either."

Tsukine shakes his head. "It's the same as back then. I shouldn't have touched the likes of you."

Baolin doesn't stop touching him. The dolls don't stop looking, predators. Tummies digest, and rot decays. They retch him into the biting cold, a lonely spot in the snow. Thorn teeth hide in winter nights. But they never rip him apart. They just gnaw, and prey.

Baolin doesn't stop touching him.

The touch is akin to the sunset of two days of grief. Both days also held empty caresses. On the first eve sparrows found their abode after being lost, after a wake. Cheeky lovers spent their lonely youths together, planting roses and hopes. But on the second eve the nested birds bid their farewells. Rosehips salted in the blanket light when Mikiko whispered. The open shoji, the withered garden that shielded them. The harbor in her warmth. Linen, roots. Crackling words. Understanding of two hearts blighted.

"What damaged me? Is it something fundamental? It's because I'm an angel, I was wrong from birth."

"You're not damaged, Tsukine."

"Then why am I always used and discarded? There is something wrong with me. I'm gross, I'm broken. If I were human, my heart would be worth loving, but I'm only a tool."

"Your past lover, did she hurt you?"

"She never loved me, she pitied and used me. I nursed her for years, and then she just disappeared. I was left alone in the winter cold. They all leave me. My father, women, and now her. Baolin, please rip me apart."

Baolin heaps him into his arms, kisses and coddles him. "Any grief is difficult. You'll grow out of heartaches."

"With how much time? I've seen seasons pass but they were all covered in frost."

"Your dance was full of hope for change. I don't see why you should leave that behind."

Tsukine blinks. The night view contorts in sighs and powder flakes until it all washes away. Eyes ache. "I'm a liar, it seems. There is nothing I can change, I don't want to change. I want it all to end."

Shamisen and biwa play a cheeky song. Farewells are settled long before people meet, prolonging relationships just begets more painful heartbreaks. Snow melts sooner or later.

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