A/N: Yami's POV.
The air stung that night. It's what I remember most clearly. He was standing outside, watching the first dreamy flakes fall. It was New Years. He stood for hours watching the snow, standing there for so long that I went out to make sure everything was all right.
"Hey, are you alright?" I asked tapping him on the shoulder. "You've been standing out in the snow for hours. I'm a bit concerned." He looked up at me, rose eyes glinting in the faint moonlight. I noticed that his lips were slightly blue and that his skin was abnormally flushed.
"I'm fine," came the soft voice, a slight smile lighting the round face. I was not convinced and said as much.
"I wouldn't mind stepping inside for a bit if I'm not intruding," he said finally. I laughed.
"Not at all!"
He came inside then, stomping the snow off his boots in the hallway before untying them. He was young, maybe 14, 15 at most and, despite what he had said to me earlier, he was clearly very cold. I brought him a blanket and then make two steaming cups of tea for the two of us. We sat rather awkwardly on the couch, neither one of us knowing what to say. Finally, my guest broke the silence.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked, a slight tremble in his voice. He was hunched over his mug, the warmth returned to his face and hands. I paused, not quite sure myself why the boy had entranced me.
"Well, I thought it was right," I said finally. "What better way to end a year than with a kind gesture to a stranger? And it's not like I have anything better to do. I'm not going anywhere. And as far as I'm concerned you're welcomed to stay the night. I can pull out the couch and you can sleep there." The boy looked considerably more relaxed after that and snuggled down into the couch. From then on, the silence became more companionable, less tense, and I knew I had done the right thing.
We didn't speak, but we both watched each other. He looked small for his age, thin and pale, but there was an undeniable spark in his eyes. His streaked blonde hair was hopelessly mussed, and I noticed him run his hands through the spikes on multiple occasions. I couldn't help but wonder what he had been doing out in the cold for so long, but he offered no answer and I didn't feel right asking about it.
It was midnight before we said another word. The bells were ringing, beautiful deep chimes, and my guest, who had stayed in almost the same position all night, sprung up and ran to the window.
"Look," he said, his voice full of wonder. "It's really snowing now! It's so pretty!" I stood, uncurling myself, and went to stand behind him. It really was a beautiful sight. The snow must have been falling for quite a while, for the wind had piled drifts of it in the street and on the roofs. Everything was coated white and the street lamps pooled golden light on the snow. Big, feathery flakes drifted and swirled, a thousand dancers in the darkness. I could hear singing.
"Happy New Year." The boy turned to face me, a bright smile on his face. "It was very kind of you to let me come inside."
"Don't think about it," I said, slightly embarrassed. "I was just trying to be nice. Is that such a bad thing?" The boy laughed.
"It's not a bad thing at all." A big, expansive yawn ripped itself from his throat then and I grabbed the blanket and put it around his shoulders.
"You should get some rest," I told him, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. He nodded, punctuating his consent with another huge yawn. He curled up on the couch, not even asking for sheets or another blanket, and promptly fell asleep. I watched him sleep for a while, watching the fears fall from his small face leaving him looking so young and innocent. I watched until I felt my own eyes closing, and I headed to bed myself, pleasant thoughts melding into pleasant dreams.
He was gone when I woke up.
I wasn't overly surprised, and part of me was ready to dismiss it. But then I found the note on the table. It was written in a flowing, but slightly childish script, fitting perfectly with my impression of my guest.
Dear Sir,
Thank you for letting me stay the night. It was very kind of you and I am very grateful.
I hope I see you again,
Yugi Moto
I smiled at the letter and looked out the window. It was still snowing.
A/N: I hate my plot-bunnies. Making me write New Years stories in March. Ah well. As always, leave a review. They make me joyful.