Yearning for Frostbite
It was dark outside. Well, that was to be expected so late at night. As a matter of fact, Tino probably should have been sleeping instead of sitting next to a window peering into the darkness. But he could not help it, not when the dark night glowed from the snow that covered every inch of the ground.
Only about an hour earlier a huge snowstorm had been raging outside. Now it was over, leaving behind a stillness that reminded Tino of death. It was a depressing thought, considering how much happiness could be found in a blanket of snow.
"Tino", a deep voice rumbled suddenly, but the nation did not start at it. He had seen the other coming in the frost that had formed at the bottom of the window.
"You came", Tino muttered quietly, not turning around to face the newcomer. He heard the other shift before he started to speak: "You sound like you didn't think I would."
"I can never tell", Tino admitted, not meaning to sound as bitter as he did. "Every year your visits grow shorter." The nation frowned at the icy flakes on the window. "It makes me fear that one year you might not come at all."
"Tino…" the other whispered weakly and finally Tino turned his head and his eyes met a pair even more old than his own as he snarled: "Do you know how many first snows came by this year without any of them being the real deal?"
"Tino, don't do this…"
"Seven!" Tino snapped, feeling tears burn his eyes. "Seven times I though: 'He's finally here!' only to be let down." The nation sniffed weakly. "What ever happened to me being Winter's favourite?"
"Nothing happened to it", Winter replied in that slow drawl he always used. "You still are, and will always be, my favourite." The man moved to Tino and grabbed a hold of the nation's hand. Even though the gloves that Winter always wore, Tino could feel a cold bite that sent shivers down his spine.
"You're shivering", Winter pointed out gently. "Is it too cold?"
Tino released a laugh at the question, his tears coming to a stop as he spoke: "It's never too cold for me, Winter." The nation smiled up at the apparition. "It's just that it never gets old, the first touch of pakkanen."
The last word brought a smile to Winter's lips and suddenly the embodiment of coldness did not seem so cold anymore.
"And that is the reason I will always come back to you", Winter said and pressed his frosty lips to Tino's forehead. "You have the sweetest pet names for me."
The End
Ending Notes: This fic was mostly inspired by the fact that winters in Finland grow later and shorter every year due to the changes in climate.