it's a brush of the back of a hand
against a cheek,
a stray strand of red hair curled
around his very finger,
and it's a stare
that lasts millennia,
like the way time is clung to,
in an attempt to keep it from passing,
and then,
there's a leaning together,
the closing of distance
happening all at once,
and two pairs of lips meet
and it feels like the ocean crashing against the shoreline,
and it feels like when the beginning of the fire
is drowned out by its continuous roar and hum,
by the way it becomes a middle all at once,
and she feels so warm,
Shirayuki's so warm here,
like Zen and her somehow shared their body heat
and became warmer together,
a pair drawn closer and closer together.