Hi, No. 6. How I missed you and your beautiful face.

Lyrics are "Snow Day" by Lisa Loeb.

.this is why

/

it's a snow day

(when'd you get down to my bones?)

/

Winter comes swiftly, and in brutal flashes of ice and snow that pile up outside the door like a frosted, omnipotent barricade unable to be scraped or shoveled away. Nezumi, for all his stubborn fire and leonine pride, has tested this theory three times over the past twenty-four hours, nearly snapping the wooden handle of the shovel clean in half; the only thing he'd succeeded in doing was bruising his elbow on the doorframe from the jerk back, hard bone rebounding against oak and preparing a lovely bruise beneath his skin.

Which is why, after accepting his defeat but not without a scowl and a curse, Nezumi flops onto the bed stomach-first, the springs creaking in protest beneath his weight before settling into stillness again. Out the corner of his eye, he can see Shion staring up at the ceiling as if something beautiful has been etched into it, but Nezumi knows better – all that's up there are water stains and cobwebs, ugly details of erosion and age that he bets never graced the boy's eyes back in his pristine glass bubble of a world. Why that annoys Nezumi so much, he doesn't know.

"Brrrr," Shion says, and it's just like him to have to voice a feeling like "cold" into a sound effect, isn't it? "It's so cold in here, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that tends to happen when winter comes. Things get cold."

Any other person would scoff at his sarcasm, and yet Shion just laughs as if Nezumi had made a joke, as if it's funny. But even that doesn't piss him off as much as he wishes it would, which annoys him by proxy all the same. He feels all over the place tonight, his sentiments towards this boy darting from one to another within the same second; Shion seems to have the off-putting habit of doing that to him, he thinks, and he wishes to god that it would stop.

"We should go out, see the snow."

Shion's suggestion is stupid, just like most of his suggestions tend to be. Nezumi's face deadpans in an instant. "And what, drill a tunnel through the big wall of ice outside the door? I don't think so."

"We can walk atop it," Shion says lightly, rolling over onto his side to face Nezumi, who remains lying in profile. It wouldn't do to look at him at such a close proximity – who knows what would happen. "Or I could help you break it down a bit. It can't be too hard."

"Says the boy with pretty princess hands." But the insult cuts out as more of a compliment than anything, and Nezumi can't fathom how the hell that happened. In the brief interval between the formulation of thought and the expressing of it, things always manage to tilt and turn in funny ways until the coarseness of his true intention is softened, diluted, made cutesy and, Christ, almost sugary rather than brash and cold like he needs it to be. And Nezumi does not like whatever that might imply, not one damn bit.

And so he opts to turn away from Shion completely until he, too, lies on his side, his back to the other. For no reason at all, he says, "If you think it's cold in here, then why would you want to go outside where it's even colder?"

"Because I like the snow? I don't know. The prettiness of it would make up for the cold, don't you think?"

Maybe. "No."

Shion sighs, and Nezumi is stricken with the uncomfortable sensation of the boy's breath pooling out warm and close against the back of his neck. Just how close are they right now? He fears to glance over his shoulder and assess that question, though, so he just stares at the wall with unseeing eyes, his lips pursed in a tight line.

"It's kind of nice like this, I think," Shion muses. "We didn't really have…natural seasons in No. 6. It snowed and whatnot, but not like this. Not so suddenly, so brilliantly, so…"

"You're starting to talk like Shakespeare again, quit it."

"Sorry. But what I mean to say is, I find it interesting. I like it here. I like all the little details that no one coordinates and schedules. Everything seems more…real in that sense. More like life."

That's because it is, Nezumi thinks, and he realizes with a shudder that that's exactly why he's dreading the prospect of turning back around and looking at Shion. This boy, this brilliant boy that's dangerous in all the ways that Nezumi isn't – the quiet ways, the ways that sigh and slink rather than blaze and slash – is too real in this moment, with his idle talk of snow and the way he dubs it as his symbol of reality.

But maybe that means he's learning. Maybe this can mean something good, however much Nezumi wants to deny the horror of – wait for it – becoming attached.

After a moment, he chances a look over his shoulder and finds Shion looking right back at him. There's a smile in his eyes that Nezumi doesn't understand, and he sighs, his agitation only half-genuine. "Maybe tomorrow, alright? When it melts down a little."

And just when he's starting to wonder why on earth he's bothering to bargain with him, Shion smiles warmly at him, reaching forward to brush the dark bangs out of Nezumi's eyes. His touch makes him shiver – (stop it, stop that) – and Nezumi grits his teeth, breath suspended in his lungs. "That would be nice," Shion says softly. His pale lashes settle low and long over his eyes, as if he's sleepy. What time is it anyway? "I'll wear two coats and three scarves if I have to."

"You do that." But Nezumi's words puff out on a too-soft breath that goes nowhere, too wrapped up in watching Shion's eyes flutter to a close, glittering red concealed beneath paperthin eyelids. "Are you getting tired or something?"

"No," Shion murmurs dreamily, "just really comfortable." He snuggles his face into the blanket, appearing to be no less content with the world than something angelic and untouched. That scares Nezumi. It makes him want to run. "Actually…I think a nap might be in order…"

Nezumi looks at him for a moment longer before sighing and rolling back over to lie on his back, arms folded across his chest. "Go ahead. Nothing better to do, I guess."

"You don't have to if you're not tired. It's just me."

I don't want it to be just – but Nezumi shakes that thought off before it can finish ringing out in his ears and covers the sound with a click of his tongue. "You underestimate how exhausting it was trying to break up that snow. I'm tired, too."

"Oh, okay." And that's all Shion says before he does the unthinkable and shifts closer to Nezumi, closer until he's all but nuzzling his shoulder with that pale forehead of his and tucking his hands in loose little fists just under his chin. "Hope you don't mind," Shion breathes out, more of an afterthought if anything, and all Nezumi can think is, How can you settle so close to me without breaking? What's wrong with you?

And yet, he doesn't move; or rather, he can't, what with how Shion has fallen into a state of drowsiness quite out of the blue, but not unfitting for his misty, ethereal air which seems to creep up on him whenever things get too quiet and still. Nezumi watches him, unmoving. He doesn't understand why he's holding his breath. He doesn't understand much of anything anymore, actually.

Maybe he should do something about that. Instead of lying next to sleepyhead Shion, maybe he should turn things around and put a stop to this. But at this point, Nezumi isn't quite sure he wants to know what he's trying to stop.

Just the thought of it is enough to make him shake.