Kisses & Snowflakes

***Sadly, only the story belongs to me. The boys belong to Konomi.



Kisses & Snowflakes


Kawamura loved snow. Even when the cold numbed his fingers and pinkened his cheeks, it was of no consequence to him. As far as Kawamura was concerned, the discomfort was a small price to pay for the novelty of a snowfall.

Today, he walked along the edge of sidewalk, reluctant to spoil the perfect, snowy expanse that stretched out indefinitely before him. Kawamura never liked being the first to despoil the sight of all that untouched, glaring brightness and, when he was forced to venture out in the snow, he was always careful where he stepped.

When he was alone, Kawamura liked to catch snowflakes – it was a game that he liked to play. He would smile when they melted on his tongue, remembering that no two snowflakes were exactly alike, and he would ponder the magnitude of that as he shuffled along in his green snow boots.

Through the snowfall, Kawamura could barely discern the figure that walked toward him and though visibility wasn’t so good that he could see the person’s face – he knew that walk, that shape.

He smiled, walking a little faster and when snowflakes caught on his lashes, Kawamura didn’t blink for fear that he would miss that familiar, beloved smile.

When at last they came upon each other at the corner of Kawamura’s street, he smiled his welcome and managed to restrain himself from wrapping Fuji in his embrace and holding him there while the snow fell all around them.

Fuji’s cheeks were red, as was the tip of his nose. “Fujiko. You didn’t have to walk all this way.” He admonished, wanting to frame the smaller boy’s face with his hands to ward off the chill.

Fuji tipped his head, strands of his hair damp and frosty from the snow. “Saa, Taka-san. It’s too cold to stand and wait. So I thought I’d start walking and meet you today.”

Kawamura ducked his head, thankful for the cold that allowed him to disguise his blush as something less embarrassing. “I’m sorry I made you wait, Fujiko-chan.”

Fuji laughed, that soft, shivery laugh that sounded like a sigh and made the hair on the back of Kawamura’s neck prickle. “Taka-san…” He shook his head, long bangs tangling in his eyelashes and Kawamura watched, riveted, as Fuji brushed his hair aside with the back of one mittened hand. “I have something for you.”

It was only then that Kawamura was able to tear his gaze away from Fuji’s face long enough to realize that he was holding something out for Kawamura to take. Kawamura blinked, canting his head to study the gold gift bag that was all done up in silver ribbons. He blushed, hotly, as he realized that Fuji was offering him a gift.

“Ahh…Fujiko…you didn’t have to, I mean, it’s not even Christmas yet and I…” Kawamura’s eyes were wide and he was beyond embarrassed that Fuji, the one he dreamed of, the one whose regard he constantly worked so hard to obtain, was offering him a holiday gift when he had nothing to offer in return.

That was not to say that he had not given the matter any thought. Kawamura had, in fact, been considering what he might give Fuji for nigh onto two months now. What had him stalled, however, was his own imagination. Each time he tried to picture Fuji’s expression when he opened Kawamura’s gift – the possible shock and distaste on Fuji’s part instilled a very deep-seated fear of rejection in Kawamura.

After all, boys didn’t give other boys flowers. They didn’t give each other jewelry or candy. They didn’t offer holiday greeting cards filled with sentimental declarations of love and they certainly did not pledge eternal devotion to one another.

So far, the only acceptable gift that Kawamura had been able to imagine giving Fuji was the blue sweater that Kawamura had asked his grandmother to make for him. The yarn he’d chosen was the same beautiful shade of blue as Fuji’s eyes and when he’d taken the materials to his Grandmother’s house, she’d smiled slyly at him before asking for his ‘friend’s’ size. Kawamura had blushed and managed, thankfully, not to stammer his answer even as his Grandmother all but winked and nudged him with her elbow.

At any rate, the sweater had turned out beautifully and Kawamura was going to give it to Fuji no matter how embarrassed he was. He wasn’t however, prepared to exchange gifts today and he was incredibly flustered by Fuji’s offering.

Still smiling, Fuji let his bag slip over his shoulder and he held it out to Kawamura. “Here, Taka-san, hold this.”

Kawamura took the bag and clutched it to his chest as Fuji tugged off one mitten to untie the ribbons himself. Kawamura’s eyes widened – he’d made such an ass of himself that Fuji was having to open the gift himself. “Oi, Fuji, you don’t have to…”

Fuji paused long enough to press warm fingertips to Kawamura’s lips, effectively silencing his protests. “Shh, Taka-san. Just hush and let me give you a present.”

Kawamura’s cheeks flushed scarlet and he held tighter to Fuji’s bag while the other boy unwound ribbons and parted silvery tissue paper to draw out a length of dark red chenille. He smiled at Kawamura as he slipped the bag over his wrist and stepped forward until he was closer to Kawamura than he’d ever been before.

Kawamura’s breath hitched and he tried, oh, how he tried, not to stare into Fuji’s beautiful eyes. It was, as it turned out, a wasted effort on Kawamura’s part. When Fuji rose on tiptoes to loop the scarf around Kawamura’s neck, he paused – just before wrapping it snugly – and simply stared back.

“Red is your color, Taka-san.” He murmured, his breath visible between them. “I knew it would be.”

Kawamura’s heart skipped several beats and he swallowed, reflexively, when Fuji gave no indication that he intended to step away again. Fuji’s mittens covered his hands for a moment and he smiled – a strangely serious smile – before taking his bag and finally moving away.

Kawamura was breathless and practically trembling with the effect Fuji’s proximity had on him and he licked suddenly dry lips. “Thank you, Fujiko. It’s…” He hesitated, fingertips passing reverently over the soft yarn. When he spoke next, he met Fuji’s gaze squarely and – just this once – allowed the depth of his regard to color his words. “It’s beautiful.”

Fuji patted Kawamura’s arm, squeezing once through the layer of Kawamura’s coat, and motioned to him. “Let’s go, Taka-san. We don’t want to be late.”

Kawamura smiled and fell into step behind Fuji, liking that he could walk in his friend’s footsteps, thereby leaving much of the snow undisturbed. They walked together for several minutes in companionable silence, the faint hiss of the snowfall the only accompaniment. When they were less than three or four minutes from school, Fuji suddenly stopped walking and, true to form, Kawamura barreled right into the back of him. He grasped Fuji’s shoulder to steady the both of them and was about to blurt out an apology when Fuji half-turned, a familiar wicked light in his eyes. “Shh, Taka-san. Look.”

Kawamura followed Fuji’s line of vision and very nearly choked when his brain began to reconcile what his eyes were trying to tell him. There, leaning against the far wall of the Seigaku clubhouse, was Oishi. Pressed tightly along the length of his body was Kikumaru, his arms wound around Oishi’s neck as he moved against him, kissing him like they were the only two people in the world. Oishi’s fingers were linked at the small of Kikumaru’s back and every so often, he tilted his head, changing the angle of their kiss.

Kawamura was silent, his fingers tight on Fuji’s shoulder. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Fuji turned to face him, his expression unreadable.

“Ne, Taka-san, that looks like a really good way to stay warm.”

Taka blinked, unable to form a coherent response, torn as he was between watching Seikagu’s Golden Pair cling to one another and losing himself in the depths of Fuji’s gaze. “Ahh…”

Fuji stepped forward. “Do you ever wonder how it must feel – to be kissed like that?”

Kawamura licked his lips. They were very, very dry again. “Ah…I suppose so, Fujiko. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone kiss like that, but…”

All he’d been aware of, when those words left his lips, vanished in the mischievous glint of Fuji’s eyes when the smaller boy wrapped the end of Kawamura’s new scarf around his hand and tugged, hard.

He murmured in surprise when Fuji wrapped his other arm around Kawamura’s neck and rose on tiptoes to press his lips to Kawamura’s. He made some soft, entreating sound and Kawamura dropped his bag to wrap both arms around Fuji’s waist, lifting him until his toes cleared the ground. Kawamura moaned when Fuji’s lips parted under his own and, while he honestly had never witnessed such a kiss, he had absolutely no problem participating in one.

Kawamura forgot about school, forgot about snow, forgot about the holidays. His every thought, his every perception – no matter how slight – was irrevocably twined around Fuji Shuusuke and the sweet, sweet kisses he gave.

He’d have gone on kissing Fuji long past the time he’d already spent had it not been for the sudden gasp of surprise that penetrated the warm, comfortable haze that blanketed him.

“Nya, Oishi, see? Everybody kisses in public – even Taka-san!”

Kawamura looked up, breaking the kiss with a swift intake of breath, though he did not release his hold on Fuji. This did not seem to unnerve Fuji, who simply twined both arms around Kawamura’s neck and rested his cheek against his friend’s chest.

Oishi, blushing faintly and unable to think of anything suitable to say, rubbed the back of his neck and tried to smile. “Ah…is that a new scarf, Taka-san?”

Kawamura looked down at Fuji, who met his gaze with a soft, secret smile. It didn’t seem at all out of place when Fuji answered for him.

“Yes. Doesn’t it look nice?”

Kawamura blushed as he finally lowered Fuji to his feet again and bent to retrieve his bag. He couldn’t say how it looked – but he sure liked the way it felt.