Akashi's hair was red. His eyes, a fiery, swirling mixture of reds and golds, staring up at Midorima, a small smile playing on his pink lips as Midorima wrapped his own grey scarf around Akashi's thin neck.
"Thank you, Shintarou."
Midorima merely nodded, frowning slightly. Grey did not suit Akashi. The redhead chuckled slightly, reaching one frozen hand up to smooth out Midorima's furrowed brow.
"Your hand is cold." The cold did not suit Akashi.
"And Shintarou warm." Akashi answered, with a tender smile that was directed at Midorima and only Midorima. He allow Akashi to draw closer. "Shintarou is my Warmth. Shintarou is my Summer."
"And Seijurou is my world." Midorima answered.
"It would be nice, if spring came quickly." Midorima muttered, musing over the Shoji board, desperately and meticulously searching for some blunder, some kink in Akashi's armour. He knew that he would find none.
"Indeed, is that so?" Akashi watched with an amused smile as Midorima tugged on his charcoal sweater, which was futile against the crisp air of winter.
"Shintarou, I believe I have won." Akashi reached over the Shoji board to brush a stray eyelash from his cheek. Midorima grasped Akashi's hand and kept it on his cheek.
"Seijurou, you're cold." Midorima whispered hoarsely.
"But you are warm, like spring. My spring..." Akashi glided over to where Midorima was, and drew Midorima onto his feet encouragingly, "and that is enough."
Spring came, but Akashi left with the melting snow. Midorima stood in the garden, staring up at the foreign blue skies and letting the warm embrace of the sunlight carress his face, but he frowned.
Midorima was better suited to the cold, he had decided.
Summer flew by in a hot, humid torrent of red. Midorima wished the world had stayed suspended during the coldest months. He closed his eyes, feeling the hot tears emerge, as he thought of Akashi's red shining brightly against the dull grey world, a beacon of light. A single, unwavering axis around which Midorima had revolved. The world was drowning him in colour now, blinding him.
Akashi's hair was red. His eyes, a fiery swirling mixture of reds and golds.
The dull, cold grey did not suit him, but the warmth did. Midorima did.
Midorima drew closer, feeling how cold the other was, as summer withered away all around them, showering Midorima in Akashi's wonderful reds and golds.
"You aren't going to get anywhere staring at my grave, you know."
The cold wind seemed to dance around Midorima in a mocking rondeau. The cold did not suit Akashi. The warmth did. Midorima did.
Midorima caught a scarlet maple leaf that fell from the tree behind Akashi. "I don't want to go anywhere without you."
"Don't be foolish Shintarou."
"I'm not." Midorima stood up at last, gingerly holding the maple leaf, and Akashi smiled.
"Good. You are my warmth, Shintarou."
Someday soon, the sun would shine again, for Akashi only, and bask him in it's warm golden light. Midorima smiled darkly. If only winter would come soon, numbing him with it's harsh chill, freezing him like Akashi's icy hands once did. Yes, the cold, dull grey was much more suited to himself.
A/N: Based on the writing prompt: "You aren't going to get anywhere staring at my grave, you know."