“I
got this for you Yuki,” a young man in his late teens says, rough
voice gooey with affection; a crystal snowflake on a silver chain
dangling from his fingers.
“Oh
Kazuya,” she gasps, face pink as scarlet eyes widen, “it’s
beautiful!”
“Disgusting,”
an irritated voice snarls.
Several
stories above the bashful boy and his blushing sweetheart, on an
often inhabited private roof, a dark figure scowls down at the pair.
Dressed all in black save the white scarf wrapped round his neck, the
man watches, tense, as crimson irises narrow.
“What
does she see in that moron?” he hisses, teeth grinding loudly as
the fumbling Kazuya tries to clasp the necklace around Yuki’s
neck.
“She
thinks he’s sweet,” a soft voice responds.
Flinching,
he whirls around to glower at the woman standing a few feet behind
him. A small smile curves her lips in greeting, secretly pleased at
surprising him, as she walks across the roof. Ruby eyes track her,
expression unchanging, even as his heart skips a beat. He watches
light from the setting sun catch her hair, fixated, as it shifts
purple and black, dancing like dark flames. Her smile widens, cherry
lips curving higher, as he turns away, annoyed she caught him
staring.
“I
know you’re her brother,” she says sitting close but not too
close, feet dangling over the edge, “and you want to protect her,
but you don’t need to watch when she’s with him.”
“Hn.”
“Isn’t
it better that she’s dating someone who loves so much he’d die to
protect her, than someone who wouldn’t?”
They
watch the couple below them embrace; one face annoyed, the other
fond.
“If
she found someone worthy to date,” he begins, pausing to look at
his companion with a meaningful expression full of skepticism, “if
such a man existed, the idea that he could die protecting her would
be impossible, because no one would be able to defeat him.”
Eyebrows
lift in surprise as she takes in his serious expression. ‘It’s a
good thing he isn’t the deciding factor in Yuki’s love life,’
she thinks, ‘poor Kazuya wouldn’t stand a chance.’
“No
one would defeat him except you,” she corrects, amused, unable to
hide a grin as dark crimson irises lighten in pleasure.
“Of
course, that’s a given,” he agrees proudly, a small smile teasing
his lips.
Breath
catching, she nods, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her
throat. Heart contracting, she resists the urge to grin wider,
turning to watch the street a moment after he does. A smile. He gave
her a real smile. Not a smirk, or the wicked twist of his mouth when
he’s feeling pleasurably vindictive, not that those looks didn’t
have their own appeal, but a genuine happy smile. Hoping he doesn’t
hear the loud beating of her heart she sneaks a glance at him from
the corner of her eye. It’s still there, a little faded, but the
barest hint of a smile lingers. An ache fills her chest, delighted
and distraught that she’s managed to cause such a rare sight,
knowing it won’t last long.
A
burst of wind sends her thoughts scattering with a violent shiver.
The day had been warm and her cloak lay forgotten on her bed. Now a
storm comes creeping in with the night and she misses its protection.
She doesn't relish the thought of staying and freezing, but feels
reluctant to leave; they're kind of having a moment. Another icy
blast set her teeth chattering, just a little, deciding for her. Best
to take this little victory and go before she gets sick. Sudden
warmth engulfs her and she blinks, surprised, to find his cloak and
scarf wrapped around her. A blush creeps up her neck, but the feel of
his residual heat sinking into her skin is too much to resist.
“Are
you sure you don't need it?” she asks, more concerned he'll
regret the decision than need the heat.
He
snorts, giving her a look bordering on insulting. She shrugs, saying,
“Just checking,” before ducking her face behind the scarf until
it reaches the bottom of her eyes. She breathes him in; fire, wind,
and ice cream. The last bit almost makes her laugh. It feels like a
stolen moment taken directly from her fantasies. Cuddled under his
cloak as they talk and tease; him genuinely smiling. Well, maybe not
exactly as she imagined, since there's still six inches between them,
but certainly close enough.
Unnoticed,
he watches her from the corner of his eye. A strange mixture of
satisfaction and pride mingles in him. He knows she's only doing it
for the heat, but he isn't going to complain. However unintentional she's wrapped in his
clothes,
wearing his
scent, practically surrounded by him. He finds it immensely
pleasing, though he’d never admit to it. Later, when the moon is
high and they go inside, He will sleep on silk sheets, cloak around
him, surrounded by her.
