Disclaimer: I do not own X/1999.
Tea
The kettle whistled, so he turned off the stove and took it off the burner. As he carefully poured tea into two mugs stylized in traditional bamboo and mountain scenes, the doorbell rang. He set down the blue ceramic kettle with a soft clink. He opened the door and there was a man just off from work on his welcome mat, rain-soaked and wan with winter cold. The man's hands gripped a broken umbrella nervously.
Seishirou greeted his bedraggled neighbor. "Come in, Subaru-kun."
"I-I'm sorry, the landlord still hasn't fixed the heater in my room."
"Of course," Seishirou said gently, pulling out a seat from under the kitchen table and serving Subaru his favorite blend of chrysanthemum and rose-hips.
Casanova
It had been a while since he had tried to seduce a potential paramour. Subaru Sumeragi was attractive to look at but very shy and Seishirou was growing tired of having to chase and coax him into situations as innocent as sharing the couch. They were enjoying a broadcast of the newest concert by Japan's Philharmonic orchestra.
Subaru fidgeted in the seat beside him and Seishirou sighed.
He hated blind dates.
Snowflake
It was eight o'clock in the morning and Subaru was sitting with his feet up on the windowsill, arms curled around his knees like a small child. The windowpane was misted over in diaphanous white and Seishirou watched as Subaru wrote the kanji for destiny onto the glass with one pale finger.
"The city is very beautiful, isn't it?" Seishirou asked, advancing to the window. He leaned against the awning, one elbow causally pressed against a wall corner. His thigh slid intentionally along the gentle curve of Subaru's spine.
Subaru's lips twitched. "The snow is very beautiful, but I prefer spring."
Seishirou watched the winter sun ghost Subaru's skin in frost. Subaru's hair was deep ebony, refined into the most feathery of strands and the arch of his neck was as delicate as china.
"Then you must like sakura," Seishirou said, sure of Subaru's agreement.
"Ah, I do."
"I hate it," Seishirou answered, staring into the other's empty eyes. "I hate it's deception."
The snow fell until their window was as blank as a slate of marble and as cold as the silence between them.
Cessation
Seishirou pondered for a moment at the little boy slumped unconscious in his arms. The boy had very lovely skin, but all children did, smooth and pale. They all grew up. They all grew old. None of them would retain their lovely skin for long.
It didn't matter that this one had green eyes, perhaps a little more innocent than others he had seen.
Seishirou sunk his hand into the sleeping boy's chest, feeling that little heart yield and break, spill red secrets all over his fingers.
Their insides were always the same.
Gifts
Okaasan loved him. She fed him candied apples and gave him soft yukata and read him European stories about fairies, princes, wolves and tricksters. She was often away, so when he complained that he was lonely, she came back one evening with a small bundle shivering in her arms. It was a clear moonlit night, the pond in their backyard was frozen over. Seishirou eagerly descended the steps with excited breaths. Winter gave his anticipation form, silver mist that drifted mysteriously into nothingness.
"Okaasan!" Seishirou exclaimed happily to his mother, nuzzling the kitten to his face.
Three days later, Seishirou received another pet: a Bird of Paradise from the very heart of New Guinea. Okaasan loved Seishirou very dearly. Every time he got bored of a playmate, she would get him a new one. Seishirou chirped cheerfully back at his bird out in the patio.
He wondered if it would intrigue him long enough to die naturally of Kyoto cold while Okaasan disposed of the cat's corpse.