A/N: Have this short drabble I wrote for an ask on tumblr.
"If you die, I'm going to kill you."
A soft, pale hand caressed his cheek. It was cold, too cold. Ryou was freezing, like he always ways. But that was what kept Mariku grounded, here. Ryou was the winter night. He was the moon, the stars. He was the snow that blanketed the ground. He was the clouds that scattered the sky.
"You can't kill me if I'm already dead, Mariku," Ryou murmured. His voice was a soft lullaby in Mariku's ears.
Mariku growled. "I don't care. I'll bring you back just to kill you again."
Ryou laughed - the tinkling of wind chimes. "Wouldn't that be convenient, if we could just bring back the dead." His hand moved down, running over Mariku's smooth neck, caressing his collar bone, before resting on his bare chest. "Alright. Let's say you figure out how to bring me back. How many times would you kill me?"
Mariku snorted, his skin heating up from Ryou's soft touches - a mixture of cold and warmth. "As many times as it takes to convince you not to die again."
Ryou hummed in thought. "And if I never learn my lesson?"
Mariku dipped his head down, his breath warm against Ryou's ear. "Then I'd keep killing you. Over and over. For eternity."
A smile played on Ryou's lips as his hand traveled to the scars of Mariku's back. He reverently traced one after another. "Eternity's a long time, you know. Won't you get tired of killing me?"
Mariku dipped further down, brushing his lips against Ryou's neck. A pleasant shiver ran down Ryou's spine at the sensation. "I would never get tired of killing you."
A/N: I feel like this evolved into some kind of metaphor about them never leaving each other.