The image was taunting him. Even as he sprinted down the road, icy wind tearing into his lungs, them, together, he couldn't forget it. He kept running, boots pounding on the frozen earth. He kept running even as his breath grew short and he was tripping every other step. He stopped only to collapse on a bench. His breath came in ragged gasps. "Aya, how could you?"
His heart was pounding. But had Aya ever promised me anything? "Yes. Yes, you promised me that!"
He stood, though his legs wanted to collapse. Goddamn you Aya, I won't take this from you. "I'll get back what is rightfully mine."
He began thudding down the streets. For three blocks his tyriad ran through his head. If she won't give him back, she'll just have to share. If she won't share, he'll have to choose. And he'll have to choose me. I'm family. I'm--..He looked around. The street name didn't look familiar. Neither did the street. "Goddamn you Aya, this is your fault."
He stalked on for another five blocks before he sat down on the bench again. His heart had settled back to a steady rhythm and the cold was finally sinking past his heated rage. Leaning his head back, he let the first cold flecks of ice hit his face. This is all Aya's fault. He knew what was going on. He knew how I felt. Isn't he the responsible adult?
Haru suddenly laughed at the thought of anyone referring to Aya as "the responsible adult." But the joy was short lived. The image was returning now that the anger had passed. Blinking even, he wasn't sure how he got to this bench. Hadn't he been on a black bench? This one was green. Rubbing his head he leaned forward, holding his face in his hands. Aya...
The flecks of snow fell in bursts. Most of the time it was just a few. But sometimes it would make the promise of more. Scraping his gloves against his face, Haru stood. The sun was already half gone and the cold was setting in. His shiver was interrupted by the flash of red, a puddle on the ground. Haru recognized the specialized trim at once. "Aya.."
Crouching to the pile, shifting through the material, he found him. The skin of the snake was already cold. Knuckles scraping the sidewalk, he scooped Aya into his arms, swaddling him in his own garments. Then he unbuckled his jacket, and re-buckled with Aya tucked inside.
But there was still a coldness between them.