Title:Snowfall
Chapter: 2
Fandom: Skip Beat!
Author: kitsunerei88
Pairing(s):Ren/Kyoko
Rating: G
Genre:Romance/General
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and LME has given all of its employees a couple of days off. Thinking Ren might be lonely, Yashiro sends Kyoko to see him. [Second Chapter It's the middle of the night in the worst blizzard in a decade, there's no power, and more importantly, there's no heat.
Warnings: Makes sense mostly in the context after Chapter 110, but no major spoilers.
Disclaimer: Skip Beat! is the property of Yoshiki Nakamura, and a whole lot of other people and companies.
Thank Yous: Again, to Alastair Black, for being so kind to beat me over the head until it was done right.

Snowfall: Midnight

The first thing Kyoko noticed was that the ballroom was crowded. The men wore suits; the women wore beautiful cocktail dresses in all colours. Looking down, she saw she, too, was wearing a sequined, floor-length dress in creamy white. Near the distant walls, she could make out the blurred figures of cameras and sound systems.

"Are you all right?" Tsuruga-san approached her from behind, his voice low. It wasn't quite right, Kyoko thought. There was a note in there, something she didn't quite recognize. Discontent, maybe? Disapproval? Certainly not anger, for her demon antenna was not out. No, she thought, it wasn't that. She was more in tune with Tsuruga-san's emotions than that. No, that note definitely sounded like pain. Well-hidden, but there nonetheless.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied, her voice as quiet as his, laced with concern for her senpai. "Are you all right?"

He sighed. "I'm fine," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. Everything else about him contested this fact; his suit was uncharacteristically wrinkled, his eyes were tired, and his hair was a mess. Kyoko doubted he'd slept. She was about to press him further when a woman wearing a navy-blue pantsuit approached him with a microphone, and he gave one last smile to her and drifted away to speak to the reporter.

Kyoko studied the banquet hall in more detail, thinking. It was vast; a little too warm. The walls, further away than should be possible, were guilded. Chairs were arranged in rows in the front of the room, and people were chatting, loudly and excitedly. She heard, underneath the chatter of the people, a classical tune; Pachelbel's Canon in D? Perhaps this was a set for a movie? That would explain Tsuruga-san's presence, and the cameras. It would even explain his sadness and his appearance; perhaps his role was a sad one, and he hadn't gotten out of his role yet. Looking around, she realized she recognized several actors and actresses that she had worked with before. Kuu Hizuri was there, with a woman who could only be his wife, Julie. Momose Itsumi, resplendant in a pale pink, was deep in conversation with Director Ogata, who was dressed to match in a cream-coloured shirt and navy trousers. She also spotted someone else, someone who shouldn't be there. Someone who had no business in show business. Frowning, she disengaged herself from the back of the hall, where she had apparently been standing close to the exit and followed that familiar figure.

Saena. It was her mother. Well, that did it. This was a definitely a dream, because her mother had no place at a movie set. The rational part of her mind questioned the presence of Kuu Hizuri, but that was irrelevant. After all, he was an actor! And Julie was of course there to give him support. But Saena, Saena had no place at a movie set. Unless of course this was all a dream, which it must be!

Well, even if this was a dream, she didn't feel like talking to her mother. She retreated rapidly to the back of the ballroom, hoping to escape out those doors, but was hampered as people stopped to wish her congratulations. Even dreaming, she smiled and thanked them. After all, it wasn't important to know what they were congratulating her for; she would probably wake up soon anyway. Glancing over her shoulder, trying to see if she could still see her mother, she ran headfirst into a tall, suited man. His blonde hair sparkled in the lights of the chandelier.

"Whoa, watch where you're going, honey," said a voice she recognized. She would recognize this voice anywhere, even though it contained a tone she didn't normally associate with him. Caring, for one. Affection, for another. She looked up and met the eyes of Shotaro Fuwa. "We wouldn't want you to fall down on your way to the aisle," he said, as Kyoko, panicked, looked behind her and saw the masses of people part to reveal a smiling priest and an altar.

The dream spiralled into a nightmare as Kyoko struggled to open her mouth to scream.

"AIIIIRRRRRRRRGHHHHH!" Kyoko opened her eyes, thrashing around in her blankets, rolling out of her bed as she did so. She landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thump. Struggling to sit up, she disentangled herself with trouble from her sheets and breathed deeply. The air was cold, she realized, momentarily thankful as it brought her to her senses. It was a nightmare, she thought, just a nightmare. After all, Shotaro would never take a second look at her, right? She was plain, and had no sex appeal. She laughed nervously at her own foolish mind, running her fingers through her damp, sweat-soaked hair, her breathing obscenely loud in the silent night.

". . . Time is it?" she wondered aloud, searching for the alarm clock in the dark bedroom. Tsuruga-san's spare bedroom, she remembered. There should be a clock around her somewhere, she thought, slowly getting up to her feet. She gasped when the cold air hit her bare legs, cursing under her breath as she remembered. After they realized that she would have no choice but to stay the night, Tsuruga-san had offered her an oversized, thick sweater to sleep in. Given his height, the sweater fell to her knees. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, he had failed to procure anything like pyjama bottoms for her to wear that actually fit. Thinking back, Kyoko regretted turning down the pyjama bottoms he had offered her, even though they were so long that she would have tread over an extra foot of fabric walking anywhere with them and the waistline was about seven inches too large. It was cold.

Grimacing, she finally found a clock and drew up on another string of curses. It was a bedside digital alarm clock. The lights that should have been blinking the time at her were blank. The power was still out, she realized – and Tsuruga-san must have an electric heating system. That would explain the temperature of the apartment. She gathered up the sheets and blankets without thinking, quietly making the bed out of agitated habit. Sleep was out of the question, at least until she was calmer. She would find out what time it was before planning anything.

Two rooms over, Ren rolled over in his bed. Cold air crept into his bed and over his body, warmth retreating into the night. He had hoped the power would come back on shortly, but there had been no such luck; the heat in the apartment had finally seeped out. And of course he, being something of an insomniac, had been awake to feel every single degree slip away.

At least Kyoko had fallen asleep fairly quickly, he thought, shifting his pillow into a more comfortable position. He had gotten up to check on her a couple hours ago, and had found her dozing fitfully, rationalizing his behaviour with his concern. If she seemed too cold then, he had been fully prepared to give her all of his blankets too, he had stubbornly insisted to himself before he went. Of course he hadn't just wanted to catch a glimpse of her sleeping face; so like a child's, so innocent in her sleep. Closing his eyes, she was still in his mind, breathing slow and even, a lock of chestnut brown hair falling over her eyes. He remembered wanting to take a seat beside her, stroke her face, tuck that stray bit of hair behind one of those crescent-shaped ears; her breathing was light and even, her face tilted to one side, her body curled in the fetal position, facing the wall. The blankets had been clenched tightly with one hand, the other hand tucked under the blankets. He sighed, trying to rid his mind of the image. She had looked so defenceless in her sleep, immediately provoking a desire in him to protect her. Wrap her in his arms, bury his face into her sweet-smelling brown hair, warm her with his body heat. . . Well, he grumbled, rolling over, with luck, the power would come back on sometime in the night, and the apartment would be warm before she woke in the morning. She would never realize a thing.

"AIIIIRRRRRRRRGHHHHH!" A shriek tore through the apartment from the spare bedroom, followed abruptly by a loud thud. Ren sat upright in bed, alarmed. Kyoko! His mind was seized with nothing but her safety; but another thought hit him only a second later. Clearly, Kyoko was awake – would it be considered appropriate for him to go barging to the spare bedroom to make sure she was safe? He had been awake for the entire night; if anyone had broken in, he would have known. She could be more alarmed by him coming into her room at one in the morning. Thus prompting the question, would it be appropriate for him to go checking on her right now? Probably not, but . . .

To hell with it, he thought, shaking his head. It would be perfectly appropriate for someone to go checking on someone else after hearing them scream. He swung his long legs off his bed, wincing as they hit the cold hardwood floor, and strode, worried, to the spare bedroom.

Kyoko sighed as she finally finished making the bed. It had taken longer than usual, indicating that she was either upset, tired, or both. In her current state, it was probably both. After all, who wouldn't be upset after having a dream about marrying their worst enemy? Ugh . . . Marriage on its own was terrifying, without factoring in Shotaro! She sighed again, and reached for the door; Tsuruga-san had a traditional, non-digital clock in the living room, didn't he?

A soft knock came at her door. "Kyoko?" Tsuruga-san's voice came through the door. "Are you all right?"

Kyoko shuddered as he echoed the words of her dream. Of course she would have woken him with her scream; Yashiro-san had told her once that he was a light sleeper, if he slept at all. "Perfectly fine," she replied, keeping her voice steady as she opened the door. His hair was tousled, but his eyes were wide awake. He looked much warmer than she felt in his flannel pyjama set, his tall body hanging gracefully in her doorway, one hand on the doorframe. "Sorry to wake you," she said, apologetic.

"I was already awake," Ren replied, his eyes wandering of their own accord to her bare legs, then snapping back up to her face. No, he scolded himself sharply, stopping a few stray thoughts from even surfacing in his brain. She looks cold, doesn't she? His mind whispered conspiratorially. Wouldn't he like to wrap her up and cuddle her on that bed, oh so conveniently placed this room? He was glad he was such a good actor, for not a single hint of those thoughts ever reached his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, carefully making sure his face betrayed only concern, despite whatever his mind might be thinking.

"Oh, it's nothing," Kyoko laughed, a little higher and more nervous than usual. She would have fooled someone else, he realized; it was only that he spent so much time focusing on her small quirks and behaviour that he had even picked up on that. He raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with her answer. "Just . . . just a bad dream," she continued hesitantly, her eyes falling away from him, focusing on the doorframe lying beneath his hand.

"Do you want to talk about it?" The words sprang unbidden to his lips.

"No." He was surprised at how harsh her voice had been, her eyes springing back up to meet his, alarmed. To him, that tone was sharper than the cold of the apartment. Didn't she trust him? A frown crossed his face, but he erased in an instant. It would not do to drive her away. He changed the subject. "Are you cold?"

Kyoko hesitated as guilt ran over her. She had caught the frown that flashed across Tsuruga-san's face. I don't want to tell him, she thought, distressed, but I don't want to seem like I don't trust him, either. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the question at hand. He would think she was weird if she took too long to answer. "A little," she admitted. Part of her mind realized that under normal circumstances, she would never have admitted it, but it was better to say that and have him forget about the dream altogether.

"The stove will still work," Tsuruga-san offered, his voice more tentative than usual. Bad sign, Kyoko thought, inwardly grimacing. Definitely a bad sign. "Since it's a gas stove. We can make hot chocolate?"

Kyoko faltered, unsure. On one hand, hot chocolate did sound good, and it would mean she wouldn't have to go back to bed until the shock of the nightmare had worn off; on the other, she would have to make conversation with Tsuruga-san, hoping the entire time that heremained Tsuruga-san, for she certainly couldn't deal with the Emperor of the Night in this condition. And there was no guarantee that he wouldn't bring up the dream again – she wished she hadn't said anything at all about that stupid dream, but what choice did she have? What other reason did she have for screaming in the middle of the night? In the end, however, the desire for hot chocolate won. "Sure," she agreed reluctantly, to cover her confusion. She was rewarded with a smile, as Tsuruga-san turned towards the kitchen.

The warmth of the stove cheered her greatly, as Tsuruga-san silently took down a pot. She filled it with water from the tap and set it on the stove. Tsuruga-san fished out two mugs and a container of dry hot chocolate mix as she discreetly tried to warm her fingers over the pot. Silence sprouted in the room, and filled it quickly, broken only by the click of the stove; it was as cold and prickly as the howling winds outside. Neither Kyoko nor Ren were comfortable in the silence, but neither could think of anything to say.

While Kyoko waited for the water to boil, Ren found the matchbox they had used to light the candles the night before left carelessly on the kotatsu. He quickly lit the candles in the living room, contemplating moving one of the candles down onto the kotatsu itself. On the bright side, it would be romantic, and he would like that. However, Kyoko would not take well to it, and she was already on edge. It wouldn't take much for her to say "I despise you" to him, if he wasn't careful. Shaking his head, he sighed and decided against it. It wasn't worth the risk. He seated himself at the kotatsu with a sigh, his mind wandering back to her expression as she refused to tell him about her dream. Alarmed, but not particularly frightened. The way her eyes sprang up to meet his, wider than usual . . . His mind lingered, as it so often did when she was near, on her small movements, her expressions, her speech patterns . . . He was obsessed, he thought with vague disgust, putting his head in his hands. He really was. He stared out the window, their curtains left open for the meagre light earlier. It was still snowing heavily, though it was hard to see anything else.

"I'm done," Kyoko called to him softly from the kitchen. He didn't know how she managed to get the water to boil that fast; whenever he boiled water on the stove, which was rare, it always took at least ten minutes. Usually longer. She came out from the kitchen, balancing two mugs of hot chocolate carefully in her hands, her steps sure in the dim light.

"Here," she set down a mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of him, cushioning the impact gently with her pinky finger. He wondered where she had picked that up; some drama, perhaps? She seated herself noiselessly across from him, tucking her legs under the kotatsu with considerably less apprehension than before. It wasn't on, but the blanket had still trapped some heat within the structure. She really must be cold, a part of his mind analyzed distantly. "Is it still . . ." She hesitated, trying to find the right word. "Storming?"

"Snowing, yes," he replied, his voice soft as hers. He lowered his eyes briefly to his mug of hot chocolate, bringing the mug to his lips. It was good; she hadn't put a lot of chocolate in his mug. Somehow, it pleased him that she knew that he didn't like sweets. He didn't usually drink hot chocolate, and the container had been a gift from an actress he had worked with in another drama. It was supposedly top-quality, but he wouldn't know the difference. "It's difficult to tell from the window."

"I see," Kyoko stared down into her mug of hot chocolate, expression difficult to read. Ren eyed her carefully; she seemed to have calmed down now.

"Do you feel like talking about your dream now?" The words slipped out his mouth before he had really thought about it. He waited for her reaction with caution.

"Not really," she replied, but her voice wasn't particularly adamant. Her gaze was still firmly set in bottom of her mug. He wondered what she could see there; the swirl of the milk she stirred into her own cup, perhaps? "It's not really that interesting."

"To the contrary, Kyoko-chan" he teased her gently, taking the initiative. He was curious. "It's very interesting. You confronted delinquents to find your role for Mio, you willingly sought out your stalker in Karuizawa . . . I think it would be very interesting to find out what left you screaming at one in the morning."

Kyoko flushed at the memory, her eyes meeting his. No, no, the dream was just far, far too embarrassing to talk about. Tsuruga-san stared at her, resting his head in one hand, balancing himself gracefully on the table. She didn't know how he managed it. His eyes curled up at the ends in a hidden smile. "No," she insisted, ignoring the "Kyoko-chan" that he had so obviously thrown out to taunt her. Part of her realized that half the women in Japan would pay millions of dollars to have Tsuruga-san call them by "–chan." She wished she could sell the honour; it would pay both tuitions for high school and acting school, and a lot more besides. "Really, it's not that interesting." She smiled back at him, reinforcing her words.

"Ahh," Tsuruga-san murmured softly, voice light. "But seeing as you woke me up with your screaming, I believe you owe me an explanation." Kyoko raised her eyebrow, watching at him steadily as she sipped on her hot chocolate, as much for show as otherwise.

"Liar," she told him, feeling her lips curve up in a smile. "You said you were already awake when you came to check on me. You're just curious." She set the mug down.

Ren dropped the hand that he had been resting his head on, laughing quietly. "So I am," he agreed. It was playing out the way he had planned, as the atmosphere in the room was now much lighter. "I really wish you would trust me, though," he said, turning his voice soft and serious, watching her expression with care. This was his trump card; after all, hadn't she herself said once that she "didn't want to lose his trust?"

"I do!" Kyoko started, "It's just . . ." She hesitated, thinking seriously for the first time about her dream. A dream about a wedding, a seething crowd, camera shutters stuttering, Pachelbel's Canon . . . Her own wedding, she corrected herself, still horrified that her mind could come up with something so dreadful. To Shotaro. Ignoring that, however, there was another anomalous fact that she hadn't seen until just now.

That was Tsuruga-san himself. He had been in her dream, in the very beginning, hadn't he? She stared into her mug, stroking the handle with her thumb. And he had not been happy; he had sounded in pain, he hadn't paid as much attention to his appearance as usual, he had looked as if he hadn't slept all night. Why was that? Why would Tsuruga-san be hurt if, she thought, wincing, if she married Shotaro? Angry, she could understand; she would be furious with herself if she married him at this point. Tsuruga-san knew that she was in show business to get revenge, so he would be angry at her for abandoning her principles, but there was no reason why he would, or should be hurt by this action. . .

Moko's words from the karaoke box, so long ago, came back. "Maybe . . . Tsuruga-san likes you?" Moko had been serious, but still . . .

That was ridiculous! She drew her hand back from her mug and smacked the table with her fist. Completely ridiculous! Tsuruga-san had his pick of women in Japan, and Kyoko knew that she wasn't a prize. Wasn't she plain and lacking sex appeal? Didn't she get dumped by Shotaro? No, that was definitely ridiculous.

But it was the only explanation that made sense in the context of her dream.

Ren watched the girl across from him as she stared at him, an expression of surprise, then thoughtfulness crossing her face as she focused her stare on her mug. A frown came over her face next. She stayed silent, stroking the handle on her mug with her thumb. All of a sudden, she winced, and continued to stare at her mug. Ren paused, unsure of what he should say. Should he tell her to forget about it, that it was okay if she didn't want to tell him? But she didn't look particularly angry; indeed, she looked as if she was focusing on a stray thought that hadn't occurred to her until this very moment. Suddenly, she withdrew her hand from her mug and smacked the kotatsu with a fist, making the liquid in his mug jump. Surprised, he eyed her expression; it had changed to one of confusion. Taking the risk, he asked, "Just?"

Kyoko shook herself out of her reverie and raised her head to meet Tsuruga-san's expression of intermingled curiosity and surprise. It was, after all, just a dream. Things didn't have to make sense in dreams. She smiled reassuringly at Tsuruga-san; she didn't have to tell him about that part, after all. He would understand why she woke up screaming if she just gave him a barebones explanation. "It's just, I just had a dream about marrying Shotaro," she ventured, colouring furiously. "It was horrifying."

Ren froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. Really, this girl! She could chase down a speeding car on a bicycle, get perfect on all of ditch her high school transfer exams, and act like a pro in a matter of months, but what was she scared of? Marriage. The cherry on the cake was that it was marriage to a childhood friend that she currently hated, and who, at least according to that part of his mind that he always tried to shut up in her presence, was his top rival for her affections.

Kyoko blushed furiously, watching Tsuruga-san shake with laughter. It was ridiculous, she knew. She brought her mug to her lips and took several large gulps of warm hot chocolate, wishing to remove herself from the room. Melting into a puddle in the floor wasn't an option, apparently, though she'd tried as he started laughing.

Suddenly, she was blinded by the flood of light in the room. She blinked furiously, trying to see – her vision was clouded with bright spots of white. She could see that Tsuruga-san was doing the exact same thing across from her, having stopped laughing as soon as the lights came back on. No one had thought to turn off the light switch before going to bed, so the lights had come on with the restoration of power.

"Well," he said, cocking his head to one side as she finally regained enough of her vision to see him clearly. "I would say that was interesting. And the apartment should warm up soon."

Kyoko smiled; he wasn't going to ridicule her. She caught sight of his clock hanging in the room; it was as much for show as for use, not being digital, and drew in a quick breath of surprise.

"It's almost two in the morning!" she blurted out, suddenly feeling slightly guilty. She wasn't really used to staying up this late, actress or not.

Ren chuckled at the expression on her face. "So it is," he agreed, taking a long draught of his hot chocolate. "If you think you can sleep now, we can finish this and go to bed." Part of him wanted her to say no, so that he could stay up with her longer.

"Yes, I'm fine now," Kyoko said, crushing his hopes. "Thank you very much," she offered, finishing her hot chocolate. He imitated her, finishing his hot chocolate quickly and passing the mug into the hand she offered to him. "I'll go put these in the sink to soak. I'll wash them in the morning," she said. A smile came on to her face.

He nodded, concealing his disappointment. It was a good thing that she felt better, he snapped at himself inwardly. He rose from the table, blowing out the candles he had lit earlier. "Good night, Kyoko-chan," he called out softly to her retreating back as she left for the kitchen, looking much smaller than usual in his ridiculously oversized shirt.

She paused and glanced back at him. His eyes held a remarkable level of caring, she realized. Had that always been there? She didn't know; she had never thought about that before. "Good night," she replied, pausing as she tried to find the appropriate words to call him. Senpai? No, that wasn't quite right. Tsuruga-san wasn't right either, it felt too . . . too formal, she realized. But she certainly couldn't call him by his first name! "Tsuruga-kun," she finished shyly, and continued her path into the kitchen.

Ren stared at her as she walked into the kitchen without a second glance at him. "Well," he murmured softly, blissfully happy. "I couldn't really have expected her to call me Ren-kun." He shook his head as he waited at the door to his bedroom, one hand on the light switch, for Kyoko to finish in the kitchen and return to the spare bedroom. Yashiro would have teased him for enjoying some small and trivial progress again. He heard the water running in the kitchen, and soon after, Kyoko crossed the living room, giving him a shy smile, and returned to the spare bedroom.

He flicked off the lights and returned to his bed. As a bonus, he thought, Kyoko is clearly opposed to marrying Sho Fuwa. This time, he fell asleep easily.

In the spare bedroom, Kyoko stared at the ceiling, Moko's words again echoing through her mind. "Maybe . . . Tsuruga-san likes you?" She rolled over, getting into a more comfortable position in her cold blankets. "That's ridiculous," she snapped to the wall. "Absolutely ridiculous."

She banished the thought from her mind and slept, dreaming troubled dreams, all of them starring that strange Tsuruga-kun.

Fin

Author's Notes: Most of the language and cultural details will be the same as for the last chapter. So mostly amusing details now . . .

For the record, Ren isn't actually THAT obsessed with Kyoko, it's just that she's around and as far as his mind is concerned, only half dressed. But he doesn't want to think about that, so he doesn't. And I've actually had a dream like Kyoko's before, only I didn't wake up screaming, I was just really, really freaked out. And also, if you're ever in a situation where the power is out and the heat is out, and you have a gas stove, DO NOT use the stove for heat! It will lead to carbon monoxide poisoning! Don't follow Ren and Kyoko's bad example!

There should be one last part to this, but I haven't written it yet. I'm going to try to get it written and posted before Christmas, but god knows. . . I've got a lot of other fics to concentrate on this month.

As always, please comment or review! I broke 25 with the first chapter of this, so the greatest Christmas present ever for me would be to break 50! I reply to all reviews too, so feel free to comment on anything and everything!